THE
INTERVIEW,
COMPANION VOLUME TO
ENQUIRE WITHIN.
IN THIS VOLUME MANY SUBJECTS BRIEFLY TREATED OF IN " ENQUIRE WITHIN " ARE FULLY ELA-
BORATED. AND SUCH ADDITIONS HAVE BEEN MADE AS THE ENQUIRIES AND SUGGESTIONS OF NUMEROUS
FRIENDS AND CORRESPONDENTS HAVE SHOWN TO BE NECESSARY.
THERE is, MOREOVER, IN "THE INTERVIEW," MUCH PLEASING READING UPON MORAL AND SCIENTIFIC
SUBJECTS, SO FAMILIARLY WRITTEN THAT IT WILL PKOVE UNUSUALLY INTERESTING AND, AMONG
THESE MATTERS, THE " JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY ALL ROUND OUR HOUSE " WILL BE FOUND ENTER-
TAINING AND INSTRUCTIVE TO OLD AND YOUNG.
LONDON :
HOULSTON AND STONEMAN, 65, PATERNOSTER ROW;
AND ALL BOOKSELLERS.
LCKSOJJ:
TAYLOR AND 6REBNIK6, GRET6TOKE-PLACK, FBTTBR-LANi-
LOAN STACK
PEE FACE TO THE INTERVIEW.
THE most agreeable interviews have their termination ; and the time
has come when the Editor of this work has to say a parting word to
his numerous friends.
" THE INTERVIEW " is designed to form a companion volume to
"ENQUIRE WITHIN." That work has already been received with
immense favour ; and it will be found that " THE INTERVIEW," though
it differs essentially from " ENQUIRE WITHIN " in its contents, is equally
interesting and useful.
The series of papers entitled " A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY ALL ROUND
OUR HOUSE " will be found to convey an amount of information scarcely
to be looked for in a volume of such small pretensions as the present.
Upon every page of the volume will be found excellent moral and
scientific lessons, and hints for every-day comforts, that will, if studied
and applied, prove that our Interviews have been productive of con-
siderable good.
Although " THE INTERVIEW " is complete, the Editor has no intention
of parting with his many friends. Next month (December 1, 1856) he
purposes publishing a magazine for every family, to be distinguished by
the quaint title of " THE CORNER CUPBOARD, A FAMILY REPOSITORY."
The Corner Cupboard is " an institution " sacred to English homes. It
is the household treasury in which grandmothers and grandfathers
store their invaluable " nick-nacks," and to which the 'younger members
of the family look up with longing and wondering eyes.
On the first of the coming month, then, the Editor will open the
\ 118
I/ PREFACE.
dooi of his Corner Cupboard ; and he invites old and young to see its
contents.
" THE INTERVIEW " now takes its place among the books of the
people. How many winter evenings will it enlighten and improve !
How many a home will it enrich and comfort ! Far down the stream
of time, when present readers and writers have passed away when the
world moves in stranger fashion than even now when we, the living
come to be spoken of as " ancestors," there may then be found upon
many a family book-case this little volume, giving evidence that the
days in which we lived were not entirely " darkened," and that some
of our love and wisdom has passed down to posterity.
London, Oct. 30, 1856.
The Fujures refer to the Pa,j:S. Not only are the >l H<\iUmjs " of ArUci,
coiitaine'l in the Articles, which ifte heading d> nrt suffiiietiily dmote.
he '' t
[INDEX.]
INTERVIEWS UPON
Page
Abrasions of the Skin, Re-
medy for 30
Page
Art of Life 345
Fcye
Bennett, Air., his Views
upon the Employment
of Females 117
Art of Thinking 123
Asparagus, Dietetic Use
of 164
A Century of Sayings to
Bidder, the Calculating
Boy 92
Acorns as Chimney Orna-
ments 319
Asparagus, Forcing 74
Aspirate, Pronunciation
of the 33
Birds' Neat Pudding :.' <)
Birth Extraordinary 1 ', 2
Births, Remarkable 11
Bishop and the Bird--,
The 2'J'J
Adulterated Cayenne
Topper 99
Astronomy : a Chapter
for Little People 307
Atmosphere ; its Chemis-
try and Geclogv _' ~>
Adulteration of Beer 32
Adulteration of Cigars... 31
Advertisements, Fraudu-
lent Exposed 154
Blackberries, Usefulness
of !;-'
Augustine Dugarre, Lines
bv 20
Advertisements Investi-
gated ' 7
Blind Man's Buff Charade 2 5
Blood, its Circulation de-
scribed . . 1"29
August, Moral for 5
Balfour, Dr., His Opinion?
respecting the Influence
of the Moon 1 9
\geofFowls 67
Age of a Horse 265
Blue Wash for Walls 2 <! 4
Board Wa^es 48
Amercements should be ex-
plicit 48
Bonnets, Bad Effects oi'
wearing them off the
Head . 10'
Agreements, Stamped ... 48
Agreements Void by Con-
sent 49
Ball Taps for Water Cis-
terns *> 9
Bankruptcy of Employer 4!)
Barley, Dietetic Use of ... 164
Barlow's Cask Stand 22
Barlow's Potato Steamer 22
Bathing, Evils of, when
Fatigued 100
Books, Entertaining is I
Bourrelet's Compressibles 2;;
Box Edgings, Planting for -J0!>
Boyhood, Lines on 1-' 1
Agreements with Sen-ants
should be in "Writing. . . 48
Air, Electricity of 158
Alcoholic Drinks 95
Bread, Dietetic Use of ... 52
Bread, Dr. Muspratt's
Account of it 1!'-'
Breeding Poultry ''*>
Alcohol from Field Beet-
root 34
Beards and Shaving 202
Beards in the Middle
Ages 202
Aluminium, the New-
Metal 97
Brevity. Advantages of ... 19-J
Broad Beans, Dietetic Use
of .... 10"i
Ancestors, The Wisdom
of our 329
Beautv 169
Boantv in Alen 198
Angel and the Child 343
Animal Diet 150
Beauty, Raleigh's Re-
Bruises, Remedy for o()
Burnt-in-China 18i>
Apple Trees, To Kill
Diseasesin 31C
Bed Curtains Unwhole-
some . 270
Butter, Some Account of it 1!)2
Butter, Cornish and De-
vonshire Mode of
making 3 1 ^
Apple Trees, Transplant-
ing 259
Beds, To Render Feathers
fit for 37
April, Moral for 5
Beech Tree, Uses of the 30
Beer, Adulteration of ... 32
Beet Root, Alcohol from 34
Belief.... 8
Cabbages, Dietetic Use of H5
Cabbages Sowing 4^
Ardent Spirits, Dietetic
Use f .. l<j(j
Artichokes, Cultivation of 7 5
Carnations, Cultivating.. . T.\
tNDEX.
Carpets, Economy in Beat-
ing i>
Chloroform, Safe Ad-
minitration of 81
Court Scene in Arkansas 2-1'.)
Cnx-nt Garden, Burning
Chocolate Diitrtio L'seof 166
of . 288
Crackle China IS:;
in Relation to 1 (i 1
How to obtain it
Cider in Bottles to I're-
all tin- vrar round ~>6
',ird Tlie 1S(>
.
Cucmnlx-rs, Dieteti.
V Ol
Cigars Alleged Yilultera-
of 165
! i>in 1'rddhi" '"
tion of :J1
Cucumber Forcing 320
.'-'
-s lor riant -
Cleft-grafting Roses 70
Cucumbers, Sowing 42
Curious K|>itu)'hs . 72
hould be fed regu-
1 u-lv SIS
Clerks ami >i:iM.'nor Ser-
vant* . . 48
Curious Extracts (.(
Cuttings of Plants \-i
Clothinc and Diet . '.'53
Tat, Sagacitv of a . ''> '"'
Cloves: What are they? 1G2
Daguerreotype, The 278
Cayenne Pepper Adultc-
Coal. Anthracite 6
Dahlias, Putting into hot-
1)9
Coal Bituminous 6
beds 44
C lerv Dietetic Use of 1G5
Coal, Cannel, or Gas , 6
Damp Walls 96
Chadwick Mr his Views
Coal different kinds of 6
Deaf ami Dumb. . . . 158
upon the Improvement
of Land 140
Coal, Dry or Cubical 6
Death I'hilosoplii.-ally re-
garded ""I
Charade " Blind Maii'<
Smokeless Fires 120
Death Warrant* imt
Buff" Jo
Coals, Steam - Coal, or
signed bv the Crown... -V.'
" Feeling verv
Smithy 6
December, Moral for -"
illonedav" 40
Cobbett's Opinion of Wo-
Degerando's Art of
men 1 S
Thinking ... .... 12 '.
geon far beneath the
ground" ... 90
Cocoa, Dietetic Use of ... 166
Cocoa Nut Cakes 255
Delays. Lines upon 27">
Dickens and Thackeray leu
Charade " Ladies who
Coffee, Dietetic Use of 1G<>
Diet and Clothing 2 ."> -J
wish the married state
to gain " '* "j
Coffee, How to know good 256
Coke as a Fuel IS) 5
Digestion Described IS'i
Dining Tables Polish for 10d
Charade "My first she
was a serving-maid " 40
Cold, How People take ... 341
Colic of Horses 249
Diseases of Horses 249
Diseased Skin of Horses 24 !
Charade "Oh thou, mv
College Expenses 33
Discoveries and Inven-
College Expenses, Cam-
tions ''71
bridge 159
Diseases of Poultry ";s
Charade " When upon
the gallows tree '' . 40
College Expenses, Edin-
burgh ... . 160
Discovery, the Progress of ] 0'.'
Disinfectants, an Inter-
Charcoal as Manure 73
Charcoal, Animal, An
Antidote to Monks-
hood 113
College Expenses, Oxford 159
Colours in Ladies' Dress 195
Comedy, The Perpetual. . . 59
Compressibles,Bourrelet's 23
view with Dr. Mu-pratt :, l
Domestic Education 17:;
Domestic Scenes in Russia 11''
Don't Talk About Your-
Cheese Dietetic Uses of 152
Conduct, Hints upon 17''
self l'.)4
Cheese-mite, History of
the 119
Consumption, Prevention
of *>54
Dove, Case of Mrs. poi-
soned at Leeds the
Child and the Angel :\4Z
Physiological te^t 1 1 s
Child, Lines On a De-
parted 24
Content, How to Get it ... 247
Contentment better than
Draughts through 1
and Windows, Remedies
Cliildren, And How to
Wealth 84
for 23
Manage Them 141
Contradictory Couple 84
n .. . ll',j
Children Cutting Their
Teeth, Method of Eas-
Contrast, or Order and
Disorder . 205
Dried Peas, Dietetic Use of 1 G5
Dried Beans, Dietetic Use
of 165
Children's Food . 340
Cool Consolation 11
Dr. Busby 60
Child Learning to Walk... 126
Corals, Imitation 101
Dr. Hall upon Del.
Children Left-handed 270
Cottage Walls Lime for 37
Poisons . 47
China, Old 183
Cotton, Impositions in the
Dr. Headland on Poison-
Chinese Etiquette 1G3
Reels :!')
ing by Monkshood 112
Chloroform, Dr. Kidds
Opinion of its Effects 97
Coughs or Colds in Horses 249
Court Plaster, toMake... 195
Dr. Kidd's Opinions of the
Effects of Chloroform 97
INDEX.
Dr. Lardner's Opinions
on the Motions of the
Moon 149
Fancy Biscuit Baking, Dr.
Muspratfs Account of 192
Farming, Action and Re-
action in 281
Galvanic 272
Garden Clocks, Vegetable 283
Garden Draining 317
Dr. Muspratt, an Inter-
view with Him 54
1 Garden, Value of a l'7
Gas Lights, Smoke from 2GO
Geysers, or Hot Foun-
tains 30--,
Gilding .
Fat, Dietetic Use of 152
Father's Useful Inventions ',} 5
Feathers, To Render them
Fit for Beds 37
! >r. Muspratt, another In-
terview with . . 189
Dr. Neilson's Opinion of
Alcoholic Drinks 95
Dumb and Deaf 158
February, Moral for 5
Feet Small ''06
Gilpin, Johnny, some Ac-
count of Him 10''
Dutch Loaf 256
Females, Employment of 117
Fermented Liquors, Die-
tetic Use of ... 166
Giotto, the Shepherd Boy
and Painter :;:;i
Dwarf Plants "<;;)
Dwina, A Russian Ballad 53
Early Rising 287
Glass and Crockery,
C hoice and Use of 100
Glass Houses and Frames
during Frost 41
Filters, Ransome's Stone 47
Fire Kindler 315
Earth, Rotundity of the 199
Education and Exercise 333
Egg- Beater, Patent 22
Eggs Consumed in the
United Kingdom 131)
Eggs, Dietetic Use of 152
Eggs, Useful Particulars
about 279
Fires, Hint for Reducing
theCostof (j
Fires, Hints How to Make
Them Burn Well 71
Fishing-rods, to Preserve 316
Fish to Sweeten ' 5 !
Glue,Liquid 39
Gold, Chemistry and Geo-
logy of 349
Gosse, Mr., his Account of
Experiments upon the
Marine Aquarium 16
Grafting Proper Shoots... 260
Grass under Trees 253
Fishes, Respiration in 217
Flies, Statistics of .... 193
Eggs, Weight and Value
of ' 5 9
Floral Specimens Preserv-
ing 101
Electricity o f the Air 158
Embalming 54
Gravel Walks, to Destroy
Moss and Worms 270
Great Men, Characteris-
tics of 211
Flower Gardens, Insects
in 61
Employers and Servants 48
Employer, Bankruptcy of 49
Employer Equally Bound
with the Servant 19
Kmployment, No Capital
Required, Fraudulent
Advertisement 154
Employment of Females 147
Enamel China 183
Flowerslntroduced to Eng-
land 208
Greenhouse and Stove ... 41
Green Peas, Dietetic Use
of 165
Flowers Forcing 315
Flowers that Look Up-
ward 299
Green Pea Soup, How to
Get it in Winter 56
Greenhouse, Temperature
of 7
Flower, Mysteries of a... 300
Food, Digestibility of 150
Food of London 138
Enamel of the Teeth 267
Endive, How to Make Use
of it 57
Food, Times of Taking... 266
Foot Rot in Sheep 260
For Better and for Worse 5
Forfeits by Servants ... 49
For the Benefit of Suffer-
ing Humanity Adver-
tisement E xposed 155
Fortune, How to Make a 256
For What do we Live ? ... 306
Fowls, the Best Breed of 254
Fowls, Age of 267
Greens. Dietetic Use of... 165
Greenwood's Patent India
Rubber Stops 3
Engagements of Servants 48
Enigma "In Number We
are Fifty-two " 90
Gregory, Dr., Cases Ob-
served Respecting the
Influence of the Moon 19
Gripes of Horses 249
Enigma "I've Led the
Powerful to Deeds of
111" 40
Guano, Mode of Prepar-
ing it for Use 258
Enigma, Uncle John's ... 90
Enigma" Without Me
the World Had Never
Been" . 40
Guano, Preservation of... 100
Habits and Weeds 241
Frame Plants, Manage-
ment of 318
Hair, Examination of Hu-
man ... 62
Epitaphs, Curious 72
Fresh Water Shrimps ... 314
Frogs, Detecting Poisons
by ... 47
Evening Parties, Hints on 5
Extravagance in Dress ... 113
Eyebrows, Remarks upon
the.. G3
Hair Nature of 270
Happiness, Lines on 53
Hardv Plants 41
Fruit, Preserved 259
Fruit Rooms 5S
TTntMiinw Xoct 9Sfi
Eyes, Description of the 63
Eyes : How to Take Care
of them 58
Fruit, the Use of 255 i WVP no Srorpts 2S7
Fuchsias, Cultivating ... 73
Fuel, How to Save Half of
it 6
HealtH Hint on 5
Health, Preservation of ... 1 Q
Hearing Described 65
Eyes, To Restore Weak ... 101
Facts About Milk 196
Full Diet . .151
Heat, Increase of in Sum-
mer 167
Galileo .. .. 272
Heat, the Properties of... 40
INDEX.
Hemans, Lines on Mrs.,
(hitherto unpublished)
' "When watching by
the sleepk .. 131
Herbs, Always keep a Few 3 1 7
Hints on Dre* 1 * 197
How was Glass Discovered 3 2 \
How to Treat a Wife 275
How to Ruin a Son l j*i;
How, When, and Whom to
Marry '> 7
Keep the Heart Alive... 287
Kindness 20:.'
Stew
paper, extracts 1'nmi ... G
Kill-hen G'irden
How to be Miserable 93
How People Take Cold
How do Insects Breathe ? 217
How does the. * >
breathe ? . . . . "2 1 7
Knife Cleaner. Worth's
Patent 21
Hint* to Mothers 193
IKntMipon Conduct 17'.'
Hiring and Wa^v, T-rius
of 49
Ladies Dresses, Colours in 105-
Lagoons, or hot springs
Some account of them i '.' 1
Land, and How to Make
the Mo*t of it . 1 4;;
History of Kevs
How to Manure a Watch Oil
How to tak- <'aie of the
Eyes 54
Hogg, Jabez. Esq., Sur-
marksupon
' ous K i nds of Food 1 5
Home and its Pleasures... 276
Homclv Worth 5
H, Pronounciation of the
Letter . 33
Lazy Fellow, a story of
Theophilus Briggs, who
was aroused to energy
by the teachings of a
worthy Doctor 105-
Hull's Patent Nut Crackrs 2 1
Humble Friends 342
Honey Bees How do they
cull their Honey 268
Honey, Dietetic Use of ... 165
Hope Lines on 201
Hunt, Robert, Extracts
from his Poetry of
Science 1 4
Lead Cisterns, Evil effects
of 31
Hyacinths, Cultivation of,
in Beds 255
Learned Negro, the 121
Leaves, Impressions of... 95>
Left Handed Children... 270
Leeks, Dietetic Use of ... 165
Lettuce, Dietetic Use of 165
Lightning and Thunder 244
Lightning Conductors,
Things in the House
that attract Lightning IKS
Light, Refrangibility of 193
Light Velocity of. 34
Hops, their Properties ... 190
Horses, Diseases of 249
Horseradish for Cattle ... 256
Hor^c-shoeing 257
Hydrangias, Cultivating 73
Imitation Coral 101
Horse, to know his age ... 265
Ifot-bed e Cheap 30
Importance of Trifles ... 239
Imposition in Cotton
Reels 35
House, Journey of Dis-
covery all Round it.. 1
Housekeeping Economy. . . 2 C3
House Plants in Winter... 241
How do Birds Breathe ? . . 217
How does a mere Thought
set the Body in motion ? 67
How do Fishes breathe ? 217
How to make 28 Ibs. of
Bread out of 14 Ibs. of
Flour 9 8
Impressions of Leaves 95
Impressions of Plants ... 95
Incubation of various
Birds 294
Life's Progress . . '-' 1
In-door Plants 45
Life of Vegetables . -'SO
Industry' and its Bless-
in QS 1 2f>
Life the \rtof 345
Lime and Soils... .. 25.".
India Rubber Stops 23 ' Lime in Agriculture 313
Infants, Clothing of 317 Lime for Cottage Walls 37
Infection, what it arises Lindley's Mr., opinion of
from 54 Warden Cases 8
How to obtain Cress all
the year round 56
Inscription on a Clock ... 11
Insects in Flower Gardens 261
Insect Life, Paradox in ... 5
Insects on Trees 260
Lines by Augustine Du-
izanne 2
How to get Green Pea
Soup in Winter 56
Lines by Mrs. Hemans
(hitherto unpublished) L'54
Liquid Glue ."!>
How to make use of
Endive 57
Insects. To Keep out of
Bird Ca^es 316
How to obtain Seakale in
the Winter 56
Liquid Glue, Preparation
nf JR.'i
Irish Cordial 316
How to obtain Mushrooms
all the Year round 5<J
How to get Spring Vege-
tables for Nothing 57
How to Save Half Your
Coals O i;
Ivory Silvering . . '"
Live for Something 19t;
Living Rules of 2 1 2
Ivory, Joining to Wood... 30
January, Moral for 5
Japanner's Gold Bixe.,
Japanning, Preparing
Wood or Metal for 257
Jefferson's Ten Rules... I'll
Johnny Cakes 2 <J i
Liveries of Servants 40
Live Stock, Management
of 240
How to make a good Fire 71
How to know Horseradish
from Monkshood 07
How to make the most of
Land li'.}
Lungs and Respiration... 217
Longest Dav, the 5
Longevity of Quaker*... i'O
London and its Food 1 o ,s
Low Diet 1 -.1
Journey of Discovery all
Round our House 1
June, Moral for 5
July, Moral for 5
How did people manage
when there were no
looking gla- .. 32 1
Magic Lanterns, to Paint
the Glasses of 102
IJS'JDEX.
Maize Dietetic Use of 164
Mothers Hints to 193'
Olive Oil Dietetic Use of 165
Manners Good . ''02
Mourning, How long
Omelette with Onions 30
Manure Permanent 27
Manure Salt as a 31
should it be worn for
different relations ? ... :; 1 7
One The importance of 203
Onions, Cooking 31"
Man Who Nurses the
Baby the 185
Mourning in different
Countries 1<>1
Onions, Dietetic Use of;.. 16?
Onion Omelette 30
Mappin's Shilling Razor 26
March Moral for 5
Month. Description of the <;f)
Mrs A Adams on Dress 1 !* 7
Orchard, Six Reasons for
Planting an "S4
Mulled Wine 284
Order and Disorder Con-
Marriage Offers of 265
Muscles of Men described ] 2G
trasted 205
Mark your Linen The
Pen Superseded 34
Muscular Exercise, Rules
for Taking it 99
Origin of the Custom of
Shaving 20:;
Marwick'9 Patent Spongio
Piline 26
Muscular Power, Statis-
tics of 283
Origin of Valentines 116
Oyster Eaters, Important
Mushroom* How to ob-
to .. *>87
Mead Dr., his opinions of
the Influence of the
tain them all the year
round 56
Painting Houses, the best
Moon upon the Earth 19
Music, Antiquity of 115
Season for 316
Meat, to Sweeten 254
Melon Beds 43
Mysteries of a Flower ... 300
Paper Hangings, Rules for
Choosing ' 6 1
Memory Modes of Studv 157
Names, a Chapter on 229
Paper for Rooms 317
Men Beauty in 198
Names, English 201
Parsnips, Dietetic Use of 165
M-'ntal Discipline .. ^4
Names French 204
Pastille** Fumigating 65
Mental Power of the Sexes 254
Names Greek . 204
Pastry Dietetic Use of 1C 4
Meerschaum Pipe, How to
Names, Hebrew 204
Pea-Leaf Soup 102
Test . ... 29
Names, Sa\on ... . 204
Pea Meal, Dietetic Use of JG4
Migration of Plants 253
Names Welsh 204
Pearls of Thought 1 4
Military Execution 69
Milk Diet 151
Natural History Collec-
tions Offer of 100
Pelargoniums, Mode of
Grafting 76
Milk Facts about . 196
reward for the best
Penny How it became a
Milk, its Dietetic qualities 151
Mind Your Own Business 193
Miniature, the 20
means of preserving
them from insects 132
Nettles an excellent
Thousand Pounds 327
Physiological Test for Poi-
sons 47
Minutes : Use them 287
Minuteness of Objects . 283
Spring Vegetable 57
New Musical Game 7
Pickles, Dietetic Use of . . . 166
Pic-Nic a Poem f )4
Mischief Making . 273
Pigs to Fatten *S5
Money : How to Make it 19
of 20
Pipes History of . . . 23 6
Money, Saving, Spending,
Giving, Taking, and
Bequeathing it 176
Nighti ngale, Habits of the 99
Nitrogen, to obtain it ... 98
Noble Bov 119
Pitcairne, Dr., his opinion
respecting the Influence
of the Moon 19
Money that we Spend,
the . 327
No Cure, No Pay A Re-
storative of Weak Sto-
Plants, Cleanliness for ... 253
Plants in Balconies 3
Monkshood, how to know
machs 39
Plants, Impressions of 8 5
it from Horseradish ... 97
Noble Reply to the Foun-
Plants In-door 245
Monkshood, Poisoning by 112
Montgolfter 272
der of Dulwich College 119
Nose Description of the i>4
Plants, Migration of 25."
Plants Storing in Winter *> 5 s
Months, Emblematic
Stones of the 196
November, Moral for ... 5
Nurserv, Hints for the 5
Playing Cards, Account of 24 5
Pleasure-; Lines on ... 201
Months, Morals for the... 5
Moon, Influence of upon
Health 19
Nutcrackers, Hill's Patent 21
Oatmeal Dietetic Use of 164
Plum Pudding, Carrot ... 29
Poisons, Detecting 47
Moon's Influence upon
October, Moral for ;>
their Sale 148
Weather 261
Odour a very Rev! ving -'70
Poultices Superseded <;
Morals for Married People 211
Odd Notion 13
Popular Error Corrected 14(;
Morals for the Months ... 5
Moreen Curtains, to
Clean .102
Oil Paintings, Cleaning... 266
Oil Pictures, Varnish for 95,
Oil of Bitter Almonds
Potatoes, Dietetic Use of lr.
Potatoes, How to keep ... :;].".
Potatoe Steamer Barlow's 9>?
Morella Cherry Wine ... 315
Morning Pleasures 191
< ' a ution upon the Use of 15
Old Japan China 183
Potatoes, Treatment of ... 2 (i
Potatoes, Useful Hints by
Motions of the Moon 149
Old Lore, tlie .
a Practical Grower .., 9G>
INDEX.
Poultry
Rogers the Poet 9 1
IVuli
Roses . 4 1
Poul trv- feeding . ..
Rose Trees Grafting 4 4
Smoke from Gas Light* *^<.i "
Prelate's Dinner 70
Roses Wintering
: nit
Rotundity f the Karlh J9!
NVa-h Tub 17
.Piv^ervina: Wood an.l lr, :.
_'!>
; Soft Soap . . .. "6"
Progn . 10!>
r Study !I3
Soils and Lime .' ; 3
Pronunciation of the Let-
Russia, Domestic Scene*, in 1 1 '"
Solitary Wasps 31
tor II 3(i
Rye Dietetic Use of lc 1
Pronunciation Indis-
doyi>-liko eves" . . . 132
tinctness I.} 7
Sailor's Farewell ' I
-Mi'i How to Ruin i '>(!
Profitable Employment
i Manure . 31
Soul and Body 05
Fraudulent Adverti-e-
Suit, Dietetic Use of ICO
Sowing, Late 352
ment 155
Salutary Sentences ''0
Proverbs of the New Zea-
landers 20
Scarlet Fever, Simple Re-
medies for 316
Speaking, Errors in 2!
Spectacles, on the Choice
P.'s and Q.'s Grammati-
Science, Subtleties of in
of . > 8 1
cal Hints lor the Million 3
Pruning Vines . :;i'i
Samples of Sand 125
Sea-kale Growing 74
Spectacles, when to Wear.
Pudding, Bird's Nest 29
I'uddings, Dietetic Use of 153
Sea-kale, How to Obtain
it in the Winter 5t!
Spices, Dietetic Use of ... 166
Spider's Thread "O'l
Punctuality, Value of 247
Purification of Water ... 45
Sealing-wax Varnish 38
Season, Influences of 338
Spinach, Dietetic Use of . 165
Squint Eyes 154
Quack Medicines 3 1 8
Sea-weed as Manure 74
Seeds, Hints upon 315
Staining, General Obser-
Quakers, Longevity of ... 99
September, Moral for . . 5
Star-gazing 121
Queen Anne's Farthings 99
Servants and Employers 48
Servants, and their In-
Stars, their History and
Laws 307
Radishes, Dietetic Use of 165
fluence Over Children 142
Statistics of War '_' 1 < >
Railways, Statistics of ... 57
Raisins, How are they
Servants, Engagements of 48
Servants, Hints for the
Steel Instruments, Sharp-
ening .... . 34
Made? 260
Benefit of ... 317
Stereoscope the ''78
Rarities and Relishes for
the Table 5G
Sexes, Mental Power of ... 254
Shadow on the Roof 7 7
Stones Emblematic of the
Months 196
Rats, Sagacity of 342
Sharpening Steel Instru-
Stove and Greenhouse ... 41
Raw Milk 151
ments 34
Stone History of a . 311
Reading Aloud 122
Sheep Foot Rot in ''(JO
S trains of Horses 249
Rebus" A part of your-
self, and part of a cow" 90
Sheep, Sagacity of a 313
Shell-Fish 210
Study, Rules for 93
Sunny Side of the Street 194
Rebus " The name of a
tree that in England
Sheringham's Ventilator . 2 1
Shipwreck a Charade 40
Sugar, Dietetic Use of ... 165
Sugar of Milk 152
grows" 90
Shrimps, Fresh Water ... 314
Surnames, Additional Re-
Red Wine, How is it
Shrubs, Planting 319
marks upon . . . 295
Made? ... 50
Side-Grafting .. 1C,
Refrangibility of Light... 193
Registrar-General, Inter-
Sight, Preservation of ... 187
Sight, Signs of the De-
Table- Talk with Rogers . 91
Tasting described 65
view with the 10
cline of 59
Taylor, Jeffervs (1 lance
Registrar-General, An-
Silk Uses of ... 9'J
at the Globe . 13
other Interview with 133
Silvering Ivory 257
Tea Dietetic Use of 106
Resin, Hints Respecting 194
Respiration and the Lun^s 17
Singing Birds, Foodfor... 270
Sir Isaac Newton . . 271
Tea, How to Make Good . 32
Tea, the Varieties of ..267
Restriction of the Sale of
Skimmed Milk . 152
Tea in Russia 140
Poisons 148
Sleep and Studv .. 161
Tea Which Kind is the
Rhubarb, Forcing . 74
Sleep, Excess of 261
most Economical ? :; 1 <;
Rhubarb Pic, Romance
Sleep, State of the Body
Teeth, Artificial .... 264
ofa 122
during 128
Teeth, Diseases of the . Id
RiceCupCake 256
Small Things, the Teach-
Teeth, Enamel of 267
Rice, Dietetic Use of 164
ings of 123
Teeth Preservation of .. 100
Romance of a Rhubarb
Pie .. 122
Smiles (short paragraphs,
humorous and various) 114
Temperature, Sudden
Changes in 55
INDEX.
Thackerav and Dickens 140
Vinegar What is it?... 50
What is Chicory' 324
The Beggar, Lines on ... 186
The Dead Child 94
Vines, Directions for
Pruning 319
What is Chocolate ? 324
What is Cocoa ' 324
The Poet Lark 94
Violet Tree the 312
What is Coffee ' 324
There's Nothing Lost ... 298
Violins, Varnish for 261
What is Water? 290
The Young Poet's Assis-
Vital Statistics 69
tant 2 7
Vocalists Hints to ... 314
Good Water ' 170
Thinking, the Art of ... 123
Von Platen's Rules of
What is Tea? . 304
Thoughts upon the WalT 337
Living 21
What is Sugar 305
Thoughts (short para-
Vowels, Mispronunciation
What is Vinegar ? 50
graphs various) 114
of the 38
What is Salt 9 3->5
Thousand Pounds, How a
What arc Cloves ' 16^
Penny became a 327
Wages and Hiring, Terms
WhatisAir? 290
Thunder and Lightning 44
of 49
What is Fire ' J 291
Things to be Found Out 56
Walls Damp 96
What is the Use of Cook
The Old Civic Toast 2 G
Walls, Blue Wash for ... 204
ing? 1:30
Toast, Dietetic Use of ... 15 3
Tobacco, History of _' 6
Tobacco, Uses to which
English may be applied 262
Walls, Reflections on 215
Wardian Cases: Mr. Lind-
ley's Opinion of them 8
Wor, Statistics of 210
What is Baking Powder ? 192
What Facts of Interest
are there respecting
Bread? . 325
Tomato, the SO
Wasps, Solitary .. . 34
What is Glass 3-1 1
Transplanting Apple
Watch Lines on a 24
What is Tinfoil ' 321
Trees 259
Watch-making 147
What is the Bright Mat-
Treacle, Dietetic Use of . . . 165
Trees Barkbound 352
Watch, How to Manage a 96
Water and its Purification 45
ter at the Back of Look-
ing. Glasses? 30 1
Trees, Planting 319
Water Cisterns, Ball Taps
What is Quicksilver' 321
Trees, Whitewashing the
for 29
What is Steel' 300
Trunks of ... . 264
Water, Dietetic Use of 170
What is Brass ' 3^3
Triads, or Three Things 352
Watercress, Dietetic Use
What is Copper ? 3-13
Trifles, Essay upon 160
of 165
What is Iron ' 3-79
Tulips, Treatment of ... 74
Water, Varieties of 163
What is Lead ? . 322
Turnips, Dietetic Use of 165
Wax, Different Kinds of 153
What is Gold? 305
Two Hundred and Fifty
Weak Eyes 101
What is Zinc? 300
Pounds per Annum
Fraudulent Advertise-
Wealth, The Objects of... 248
Weather, Influence of the
What is Rosewood ? 323
What is Wine?. 39
ment 154
Moon upon 260
What is Red Wine ' 50
Useful Things 2 1
Weeds and Habits 241
What is White Wine ? ... 49
What is Beer Produced
Use the Minutes 287
rooted 261
from? 139
What is Cotton 9 3-^6
What is Gin Produced
Valentines, their Origin 116
What is Silk? 326
from? 139
Valuable Matter from
What is Wool ? . . 327
What is Rum Produced
Worthless Materials... 195
What is the Use of Eye-
from? 139
Value of Good Wives 2 C
lids? 63
What is Brandy Produced
Value of a Garden 197
What purposes do the
from' 139
Varnish for Oil Pictures 95
Varnish, Sealing Wax ... 33
Eyebrows fulfil? 63
What is the Use of Eye-
What is Whisky Produced
from? 139
Vegetable Acids in rela-
lashes? 63
What is Alchohol Pro-
tion to Cholera 161
What Causes the Hand to
Vegetable Diet 151
Open?. ... 66
What is Mahogany ' 3 - ~"
Vegetable Garden Clocks 283
Vegetables introduced
What Causes the Hand to
Close? 66
When were Looking-
glasses first introduced' 3^1
into England 208
What is the Office of the
Vegetables, Life of 286
Heart? 127
Velocity of Light 34
What is the Cause of
land^ . 3-^1
Ventilator, Sheringham's 21
Thunder? 244
When was Iron first Dis-
Verbena, Pot Culture of
What is the Cause of
covered? 302
the 267
Lightning' 244
Vermicelli, Dietetic Use of 153
What's in a Name ? 59
Beast? .... 12
Vinegar, Dietetic Use of 165
What is Death? 225
Why U the Summer hot' Ifi7
xii
Why i-s Man's B
covered with Hair
Whev \>'. of ir,2
Window Gardening :'7;J
Windsor Hoans. Dietetic
Use of 165
Words to Workmen 201
Worms, Respiration in .. '.'17
Worth'* Patent Knife
White- washing the Trunk*-
Wine I)' 1(>G
er 21
of Trees 'Mil
Wine Jellv
Wood, Joining to Ivorv .".o
NViiu- Ho\v it i.-
\\iiu-, What i> it :5
Wood, Preserving ... 3(>
MaJe 4'.'
Wine What is it ? 49
Wood Plants 41
Mr Thoma> hN
Winteriin? Ko^-
Wounds of Horses ''49
opinion on Diseases of
Wisdom of our Ances-
Writing Material- 137
the Teeth I 7
tors
... .'70
Wills, Instructions how to
Make "!
... :IM;
Wizard, Account of the . 1
Woman as She should be 01
Yeast, Additional Instruc-
tions for Making 3G
"Winds, The Cause of. BOS
Woman, Love for 9
Young Ladies, Winter
Wine, Mulled (iveeipe in
Women. Cobbett's Opin-
Advice to ~t
verse) S4
ion ol them . ... 108
Windows, to render them
Opaque .., .30
Wonderful Publication
The Restorer is Come . 39
Zouave Swallowing Cos-
sack ...
JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY
ALL ROUND OUR HOUSE.
CHAPTER I.
THE FATHER OP THE FAMILY STATES
HIS REASONS FOE UNDERTAKING THE
JOURNEY.
A FEW days ago my boy returned from
school, not merely for the Christmas-
holidays, but with the intention of
going no more to the educational estab-
lishment in which he had been for the
last four years. When I tell you that,
although I have four daughters, this
is my only boy, you will be able to
judge from what you have experienced
yourself or witnessed in others, the
pride I feel in this lad, the joy that it
gives me to watch his progress from
the simplicity of childhood to the in-
telligence of youth ; and how anxious I
am that he may reach the maturity of
manhood, and be an honour to the
name he bears, long after my own his-
tory, with all its errors and sorrows,
has terminated.
The recent Christmas was to me
and to my boy an era of great im-
portance. I had arranged, in taking
him from school, to place him under
the tutorship of Dr. Renford, a gentle-
man of great educational acquirements,
who devotes himself to the tutorship
of two or three pupils, but never
undertakes a larger number at the
same tune. I rejoiced to think that,
in his fellow-pupils, my boy would
find that companionship with youth
which is so essential to the preservation
of the genial qualities of the young
heart, while he would receive from his
tutor a more direct attention, a more
individual watchfulness, than I could
hope to obtain for him in a large
establishment.
I had, therefore, arranged that,
during the holidays, Dr. Renford
should be a visitor at our house, chiefly
for the purpose of reconciling my boy
to the change, and to the person who
was to be his future teacher ; for, being
a youth of warm attachment, he had
become very fond of his old school-
master ; and to part with some of his
school -fellows had caused him indescri-
bable pain. It is surprising how, in
youth, the smallest incidents swell the
tide of grief, and trifles, which a
sterner acquaintance with the world
enables us to completely forget, seem
to plunge us into the depths of misery.
I had considered and prepared for
this, in the arrangements made at
home, to cheer my pet boy during the
holidays, and to wean him by degrees
from old attachments.
But, in thus providing for the happi-
ness of my boy, I did not anticipate the
delight which I myself should find in
the society of the amiable and gifted
Dr. Renford, who, during the short
time that he stayed with us, had really
put me through the very process which
I had designed for my boy. By his
conversations upon things that were
new to me, and by pointing out sources
of mental gratification which, though
close at hand, were utterly unknown to
me, he had completely weaned me from
erroneous opinions to which I had long
foolishly clung, and had tutored me to
a new discipline of the heart and mind,
in a way that cannot fail to influence
the soul. I will tell you how this in-
fluence came to be felt by me, although
the incident which I shall relate is only
one of many that occurred during the
time that my friend, Dr. Renford, re-
mained with me.
My young people, with their mamma,
made up a party to go and see the
Wizard "the Great Wizard of the
North" as he was called. And I
think that the night upon which they
went was to be the last of the Wizard's
performances at the Lyceum Theatre
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
prior to his removal to Covent Garden.
I did not go with the party, my health
being so delicate that I am compelled
to avoid the night air. So Dr. Renford
kindly did the amiable to the ladies, and
away they went in cheerful expectancy
of the wonderful feats they were to see.
The next day little was spoken of by
my youugpeople, but related to the won-
derful feats performed by the Wizard.
My wife was amazed : she had witnessed
such unaccountable marvels that she
almost wished she had not gone. She
had slept unsoundly during the night,
and when she slept she had dreams of
some great magician in flowing garments
bespangled with mysterious characters,
leading her through mazes of cloud, and
into caverns of oppressive darkness,
that gradually dissolved, and revealed
countless forms of beauty, which melted
away before the darkness that rolled
back like a velvet curtain, amid dis-
cordant yells and laughter, as if a thou-
sand fiends had been set free to
scramble through the blackness that
prevailed.
The girls were almost as much ex-
cited and bewildered as their mamma.
But my boy, my pet boy, seemed to
have gone half deranged so great had
been the fascination of the Wizard's art
over him. He did little else but walk
about trying to devise some simple ap-
paratus by which he might imitate the
lesser tricks performed by the Wizard.
Find him where you might, he would
be sure to be standing behind inverted
cups, with oranges underneath, pocket-
handkerchiefs, hats, glasses, and cards,
being strewed all around him. He
eagerly turned over the pages of the
Wizard's "Shilling's worth of Magic"
which he had purchased and brought
home with him, and paced up and
down the dining-room, looking up as
if addressing an imaginary audience
crowding around the walls.
It appears that, on the night in ques-
tion, the portico of the theatre was
brilliantly illuminated, not only with
the ornamental gas illuminations, but
with the electric light, and various
transparencies.
As our carriage approached the thea-
tre, its progress was arrested by the
presence of a dense mass of people,
whose up-turned faces receiving the
livid brightness of the electric light,
looked like a scene of real enchantment,
and greatly added to the effect of what
our party afterwards witnessed.
Upon entering the theatre, they
found every nook and cranuy filled.
The Wizard appeared, and commenced
his performances. Articles disappeared
and appeared again in the most sur-
prising manner, and in the most un-
looked-for places; handkerchiefs were
torn up, and mended again in the most
miraculous fashion ; watches were fired
from blunderbusses through men's
heads, and neither head nor watch any
the worse for the operation ; pigeons
flew out from empty boxes ; and, from
a portfolio of not immoderate dimen-
sions, were produced several children,
a live goose, a large trunk, not to men-
tion an infinite variety of smaller arti-
cles ; the bullet was caught in its flight
from the gun ; tables were rapped
upon ; and clairvoyance illustrated ; in
fact there was no department of jug-
glery whether jugglery proper, or that
which disguises itself beneath a scien-
tific cloak which was not thoroughly
illustrated.
When the time came to talk seriously
to my boy about the future arrange-
ments for his education, and to bring
him and the Doctor into friendly com-
munion, I found him so pre-engaged,
so utterly absorbed in the fascina-
tions of the Wizard's art, that it was
difficult to obtain his serious attention
even for a few momenta. And as,
every now and then, he succeeded in
the performance of some simple trick,
he summoned his sisters to witness
it, while they, by the natural expres-
sion of their surprise, only encouraged
the young conjurer in his devotion to
the mysterious art. I became, there-
fore, alarmed lest the opportunity I
had so long planned, of bringing my
boy and his tutor together under fa-
vorable auspices, should pass away. I
therefore called the Doctor aside, and
advised with him upon the subject.
" Oh, never fear," said he, " the enthu-
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
siasm which you witness on the boy's
part in these trifling matters is the
best evidence that can arise of his ear-
nestness in higher matters, as soon as
his intelligence his love of the mar-
vellous shall be directed toward the
highest objects in which they can find
gratification."
I was delighted to hear this ; though
my worst fears were again aroused
when, in compliance with my request,
the Doctor proceeded to ask my boy
what profession he thought he should
prefer. I shall never forget my boy's
reply : " I should like to be a wizard,
sir !" My boy a wizard ! he who is to
bear my name down to posterity a
conjurer, a juggler, a dabbler in leger-
demain, cheating the senses of the
people by the most palpable and silly
tricks ! My cheek, which has long been
pale, suddenly became red. But I
stifled my feelings, though I believe
the Doctor read my emotion.
I rose, and by the aid of my eldest
daughter's arm, took a walk round the
garden. The sun just at this moment
burst forth, and glistened upon the
fir and bay trees that waved their
ever-green branches in the cool breeze;
whilst the red berries shone, like coral
beads, upon the dark stem of the holly.
When I returned, I was somewhat
disconcerted immediately I entered
the room, to be invited to witness a
new trick, which my boy had just dis-
covered. I noticed that the Doctor
was absent, and I wished that he had
been there that he might support me
in the trial I had to undergo. For I
confess I had grown morbid under the
circumstances, and wished the Wizard
at Jericho.
However, I determined to suppress
my dislike of the entertainment, and
to throw myself upon the consolation
afforded by the Doctor when I had
named my anxiety to him. So I suf-
fered the conjuring to proceed. I was
told to ask any question by writing it
upon a slip of paper, and by holding
it against the circular mirror which
hung against the wall, an answer
should be received by raps upon the
table at the opposite side of the room.
I therefore wrote upon the paper
"What is my age?"
My boy immediately said to the
table, " I command you to answer !"
And forthwith, to my great surprise,
the table gave forty-nine distinct
knocks. And what surprised me more
was, that the table stood quite alone,
and that my boy never went near it,
but kept walking up and down waving
his hands, as if working some magicspell.
I then proceeded to ask numerous
other questions, all of which, to my
amazement, were answered quite cor-
rectly by the mysterious table. I con-
fess that I began to feel puzzled, I
might almost say interested, and to
forget for a moment my antipathy to
jugglery ; when, all of a sudden, the
heavy table-cover, which had been
drawn somewhat over the front, slid
off from the smooth mahogany surface,
and there, to my utter surprise, I be-
held the Doctor, my learned and esti-
mable friend, on all fours under the
table ! He had been acting as the
confederate of my boy the latter was
quick enough to read the questions
reflected in the mirror, although their
image was reversed, and while I was
looking at the mirror, or at the top of
the table whence the raps proceeded,
he was signalling with his foot to the
Doctor the number of raps to be given.
To describe the ludicrous scene that
ensued the screams of laughter from
the girls, the confusion of the boy, the
Doctor's embarrassment, mamma's dig-
nity, and my own perplexity, is quite
beyond my power.
Some time after,however,I was pleased
to observe that my boy was never easy,
unless he was by the side of his future
tutor ; that a companionship had
sprung up between them which seemed
inseparable and which was the very
consummation I had wished, but knew
not how to obtain. And I now dis-
covered that the Doctor had, with a
true knowledge o." >yv.i:m nature, con-
descended to act the ptw^t of my boy's
confederate in an innocent anJ silly
trick, only the more securely to obtain,
a hold of his affections, and to lead him
on to things worthy of his attention,
B2
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
But what has this to do with the
" Journey Round our House T Every-
thing, as you shall presently see. By
accident I overheard ;x conversation
between my friend, the Doctor, and
my boy. The Doctor was telling him
of the means by which many of the
Wizard's most celebrated tricks are per-
formed, and showing that they were
merely mechanical inventions with
which the talent and the power of the Wi-
zard had nothing at all to do that there
were men who were acquainted with
the laws of natural philosophy who in-
vented these tricks for the Wizard, that
the Wizard was merely the buyer of
those inventions, and that any one who
could afford to pay the same price for
the apparatus could perform those
tricks quite as easily as he. The Doc-
tor then went on to speak of the Magic
of Nature, which everywhere around
us is hourly presenting phenomena far
more wonderful and worthy of our at-
tention than the Wizard's tricks, which
were a mere burlesque of noble inven-
tions and sublime operations. He
pointed to the fire, saying that a piece
of coal placed thereon a solid, black
and heavy mass would soon disappear.
It flew up the chimney. Was there
anything that the Wizard had done
more wonderful than that of causing a
solid body to take wings and fly away ?
People were content to call this com-
bustion, or burning. But what did
these terms mean ? Could people com-
prehend them ? Why did the kitchen
maid, when she made a fire, put paper
beneath wood, and wood beneath the
coal, and then set fire to the first ?
What became of the several scuttles
of coal that in the course of the
day disappeared ? When the girl drew
a. lucifer match across the sand-
paper on the bottom of the box and
produced fire by a single touch, she
performed a feat in which there was
as much matter for wonderment, as in
the most mysterious trick performed
by the Wizard.
But people passed o^or these things
with on i not!'-. ..^d were content to
havp ih'-'i. senses cheated by a juggler
rather than be improved by the greatest
teacher of all Nature. Why (he
asked) does gas burn without a wick,
while oil and candles require that aid
to support their combustion ? Why,
when you set a kettle upon the fire,
does the water boil, and rush forth in
the form of steam ? Where goes the
steam ? What becomes of it at last ?
What is heat ? Why, though you sit
far away from the fire, does the heat
reach you ? How does it come ? Upon
what does it travel? When you say
you feel the heat, how do you feel it ?
In what way does it affect you ? What
is light ? How comes it flying through
the wonderful expanse of heaven, from
the far-off sun, to cheer our humble
dwellings ? What is glass through
which the light passes ? Why does
the light, as it travels through the
lustres upon the chandelier, issue
forth iii rays of various colours, giving
rich tints to the objects upon which
they fall? Why do3s the mirror upon
the mantel-piece reflect with exactness
the image of every object that appears
before it ? What is the difference
between wood and iron? Why does
the one burn and the other not do so ?
What supplied the damask curtains
that hang by the window, and the car-
pets that lie upon the floor ? Whence
came their brilliant colours? How were
those tasteful patterns woven into the
texture ?
The Doctor, to my great joy, had
completely absorbed my boy's atten-
tion by these questions upon the most
simple problems ; and what i.s more,
he had equally absorbed mine, and
made me feel how little I understood
of the objects and of the phenomena
observable even within the walls of my
own dwelling. It was for this reason
that I resolved to make a Journey of
Discovery all Round our House.
We are determined to learn something
respecting everything that the house
contains, whether it be a simple grain
of salt, or a thread of silk, or an elabo-
rate piece of tapestry, or the burning of
a candle, so that, " even the singing of
a kettle shall be unto us a song of wis-
dom." We should like the reader to
go with us through our journey.
LEISURE MOMENTS.
MORAL FOR JANUARY.
MORAL FOR APRIL.
MORAL FOR JULY.
Saxon or Welshman, Scot or
The First's a day when folks
Off to the Rhine, the Rhone,
Celt,
are sold
the Po ;
Name, by right name, this
By gamesome youth released
To Belgic flats or Switzer
month so merry,
from school ;
hills,
Pronounce it just as it is spelt,
Neither at this time, reader
Off, but take off, before you go,
And never call it Janniwerry.
bold,
Something, with cash, from
Nor any other, be a fool.
tradesmen's bills.
Hint on Evening Parties. A
young lady, after dancing all
Hints for the Nursery. The
MORAL FOR AUGUST.
night and several hours longer,
treatment of a new-born child
You may buy grice, and need
will generally find, on consult-
should be kind, but not cordial
not say,
ing the looking-glass, that the
and especially not Godfrey's
Whether with lead or coin
evening's amusement will not
cordial.
you got 'em ;
bear the morning's reflection.
MORAL FOR MAY.
But if you buy them, do Kot,
Winter advice to Young Ladies.
Welcome are all its flowers
Pi-ay,
Tell naughty fibs, and say
Thin shoes lead to damp
and bowers,
you shot 'em.
feet; damp feet bring on a
As guests when one has
cough ; a cough may terminate
in a coffin.
bidden 'em ;
But you're not welcome to the
Homely Worth. Many
flowers are expressive of the
MORAL FOR FEBRUARY.
flowers,
Mind this, when down at Sy-
most delicate sentiment, but
which of them has the heart
Get born upon Feb. 2 9,
denham.
of a cabbage ?
For Leap years come but
one in four ;
Economy in, Beating Carpets.
When you purchase your
MORAL FOR SEPTEMBER,
A toast's a thing that spoils
carpets, take care to buy one
O Cockney, if with the Perdrix,
one's wine,
that is infinitely superior to all
" A day " is offered, Cock-
You save three-fourths of
the rest ; for such a carpet
ney O,
birthday bore.
will beat every other carpet
With fire-arms don't be play-
Hint on Health. For air and
you have in the house.
ing tricks,
exercise too many young ladies
resort almost exclusively to the
Paradox of Insect Life. The
habits of the spider are sta-
Don't shoot and, better
still, don't go.
piano.
tionary. He seldom travels
MORAL FOR OCTOBER.
Contagion. Several young
far from the locality in which
The party who but drinketh ea u,
ladies who were accustomed
he first saw the light It is
And unto bed retireth
to sit under a popular preach-
er, became, consequently, much
affected.
curious that the spider should
travel so little, and yet be con-
tinually taking flies.
sober,
Shall fall (a punch - frauyht
song doth show)
Like leaves, and lenve us in
MORAL FOR MARCH.
MORAL FOR JUNE.
October.
A bushel of March-winnow'd
dust
A rhyme the word suggests
will suit,
MORAL FOR NOVEMBER.
Is worth, they say, a mo-
No special moral's taught
Of things that Civic magnates
narch's ransom ;
by June :
do,
I,et Bomba save it mobs
If you're an ass, and blow a
As stuffing, spouting O
don't trust ;
flute,
beware,
For such a life such price
Why, do not blow it out of j Or y u ""W **> degraded to
were handsome.
tune.
An alderman ; nay, down to
What is a Baby? Why a
For Better and for Worse.
Mayor.
Baby is a living I. O. IT., a
A Philosopher who had mar-
MORAL FOR DECEMBER.
" little Bill " drawn upon Man-
ried a vulgar but amiable girl.
With Christmas - tide thc-
hood, that is only honoured
used to call his wife "Brown
twdvemonth ends,
when it arrives at maturity.
Sugar," because, he said, she
Give all unkindly thoughts
was sweet but unrefined. Ano-
the sack,
The Longest Day. The day
ther, whose wife was affection-
Embrace your foes, forgive
before that of your wedding
ate and stout, was accustomed
your friends,
will probably be the longest
to denominate her "Lump
And buy your PuncJi's
day of your life.
Sugar."
Almanack.
DIFFEKF.XT KINDS OF COAL.
DIFFERENT KINDS OF COAL.
1. Dry or Cubical Coal. This spe-
cies is very black and shining. It gene-
rally cornea from the pit in large
MM ; and it burns freely with much
flame and heat. This is by far the best
coal for blast-furnaces, but is not so
desirable for domestic use.
2. St cam-Coaly sometimes called
Inj-Coal" This species, which
ignites readily, and produces compara-
tively little smoke, is much valued for
its excellence in the furnaces of steam-
boilers. It contains more carbon than
bituminous coal, and more hydrogen
than anthracite.
3. Cannel or Gas-Coal. This species
does not shine, but has, on the con-
trary, rather a dull appearance before
it is ignited. When burning it emits a
most brilliant flame. As the roots of
fir are used instead of candles in the
winter nights by the peasantry in some
parts of Scotland, so this coal is made
to answer the same end in some dis-
tricts of England, and also in the South
of Scotland. Hence its name, Cannel,
the Lancashire word for candle. Can-
nel Coal is almost invariably used in
the manufacture of gas.
4. Bituminous Coal. This species
swells and cakes when heated. It is
more abundant than any other kind
and is well adapted for household use.
There are 133,000 square miles of it in
the United States, and 8,000 square
miles of it in Britain. Bituminous
coal, in a raw state, is not suitable for
the blast-furnace.
5. Anthracite Coal. This species is
very black, very brittle, and very
shining. When sold, it is generally
broken up into small pieces, but there
is not much dust. It produces almost
no smoke, and scarcely any ashes.
Where it can be obtained at the same
price as bituminous coal, it is more
economical for domestic purposes.
Even where it costs more, it is good
management to mix the bituminous and
anthracite together. The latter, by its
great heat, consumes the smoke of the
former, and thus saves fuel. Two
scuttles ought to be used in such a case,
one for each kind of coal : at all events
tin- bituminous coal, in order to effect
the saving, must be put below the
anthracite, so that the smoke may have
to pass through the glowing embers.
Anthracite coal is abundant in Wales
and Ireland. In Ireland it is called
Kilkenny coal, and in Scotland, blind
coal. It usually contains about 90 per
cent, of pure carbon. This sort of coal
is especially valuable to maltsters,
brewers, and millers ; because it throws
out intense heat, and may be said to be
almost without smoke. But it is also
decidedly economical (where the price
is reasonable) in stoves and house-grates.
There being 90 per cent, of carbon,
only 10 per cent, is left for smoke and
ashes ; whereas, in some sorts of coal,
the residiuum of ashes amounts to 40
per cent. !
HINT FIRST. Put a piece of iron
plate, which you may get at any foun-
dry for fourpence or sixpence, across
the bottom of your grate, reaching
within an inch and a half of each side,
and projecting about an inch and a
half in front. There will thus be one
narrow opening for air between the last
two bars of the bottom grating at each
end of the plate, while the remainder
will be closed. The draught upon your
fire will thus be almost entirely from
the front, and you will soon discover,
by experience, that the present method
of constructing grates, by which the
whole bottom admits air through the
bars, is wrong in principle and extrava-
gant in practice.
HINT SECOND. When about to make
a fire, let the grate be first half filled
with common Newcastle coals. Above
these place some shavings or waste
paper, and then a few diy sticks or
splinters, or bits of charcoal or broken
peat. Lay on the top a few of yester-
day's cinders, and. lastly, some lumps
of coal. These must not be shovelled
in at random, but laid on carefully by
hand. Apply a match to the shavings
or paper, and in fifteen minutes you will
have a cheerful fire. At first, servants
will object to thi.s plan, and even ridi-
cule it. They have always been accus-
tomed to light a fire at the bottom of
DIFFERENT KINDS Oi? COAL.
the grate, and it is difficult to persuade
them to try the experiment of lighting
it from above. They cannot believe
that the fire will work its way down
into the mass of dead coals. One fair
trial, however, will satisfy a housemaid
on this point ; and she will soon find
that it not only saves her master an in-
credible quantity of coals, but that it
also saves her, what she may, perhaps,
consider of more importance, a vast
deal of trouble. The bell will be rung
less frequently for the coal-scuttle ; the
fire, if properly made and reasonably
attended to, will never require to be re-
lighted during the day ; there will be no
soot flakes on the furniture, and so little
even in the chimney, that the services
of the sweep will be seldom required.
But if you would have as little smoke
as possible, take heed to what follows.
HINT THIRD. After the fire has been
made in the manner just described, let
it be replenished during the day with
anthracite, not bituminous, coal. An-
thracite yields no smoke, and burns
with such an intense heat that it con-
sumes any smoke which rises from the
pitchy Newcastle coals at the bottom
of the grate.
HINT FOURTH. Abolish poker and
tongs. These time-honoured imple-
ments are worse than useless when a
fire has been made on the smoke con-
suming principle. Allow no poking,
unless you are willing to have your
coals wasted and your fire spoiled.
Instead of the burnished, clumsy, steel
biped, which is always in the way, get
a blacksmith to make for you a light
instrument like the sugar-tongs, about
a foot long, and without hinge or joint.
If you are a bachelor or maiden lady,
fond of sitting by the fire, and rarely
pressed for time, you will find it
amusing, as well as economical, to pick
up a lump of bituminous coal eveiy
now and then, when there is an open-
ing in the lower part of your fire, and
thrust it in among the red embers.
Every time you do this, you will have a
beautiful illustration of the smoke-con-
suming principle, adopted in a more
costly way by Franklin, Cutler, Arnott,
and others. The black lump will im-
mediately begin to puff out crude
gases and smoke, which ignite and are
consumed before they have time to
reach the top of the fire. You will
find the projecting inch and a-half of
the iron plate in the bottom of your
grate very convenient for the purpose
of introducing bits of coal in this
manner : Just lay the coal on the
edge of the plate, and push it in with-
out disturbing the fire. It is a good
plan, however, to thrust in a lump
wherever there happens to be a gap in
the burning mass.
HINT FIFTH, Whatever kind of coals
you use, never put on much at a time
when replenishing the fire. Even with
Newcastle coals, you will have compa-
ratively little smoke, if you put on only
a thin layer about once in half an hour
or so. Busy people would grudge this
trouble ; but any one who has leisure,
and enjoys a good fire, would do well
to adopt this hint, especially if anthra-
cite coal cannot conveniently be ob-
tained. The fire will continue clear
and hot, and the expenditure of fuel
will be very much lessened. When a
large shovel-full of bituminous coals has
been thrown on the fire, there is always
a dense smoke for some time ; but when
only a thin sprinkling is put on, if the
fire below is good, the gases emitted
will produce flame and heat.
HINT SIXTH. Mrs. Sarah Hale says
and what she says may be depended
on that " a saving of nearly one-third
of the coal consumed may be made by
the following easy means" : Preserve
the coal-ashes which are usually thrown
away as worthless. When you have
a sufficient bulk, add to them an
equal quantity of small coal or coal-
dust from your cellar, and then pour a
little water on the mixture. Use this
compost at the back part of your fire.
It will burn brightly and pleasantly;
only a little dust will remain uncon-
sumed ; and thus the trouble of sifting
will be saved besides.
HINT SEVENTH.' Another excellent
suggestion by the same American
authoress : Mix one bushel of small
coal, or saw-dust, or both, with two
bushels of sand, and one bushel and
s
DIFFERENT KINDS OJ? COAL. WARDIAN CASES.
a half of clay. Take water, and make
the mixture into balls, and pile them
up in a dry place till they become hard.
When your fire burns brightly, put
some of them on the top, and they will
give out a strong heat.
HINT EIGHTH. If you live near a
gas-work, you may buy the cinders,
which are neither more nor less than
coke, at the rate of fourpence or six-
pence for a large sack. No cheaper
fuel can be obtained in a town. By
making your fire as directed in " Hint
Second," and replenishing it with these
gas-cinders, you will find that for
warming or cooking, the expense of fuel
is less tfian one half. The writer has
tried the method, and been astonished
at the saving which is so easily, plea-
santly, and comfortably effected. The
cinders answer every purpose of anthra-
cite coal, and they are very much
cheaper. Perhaps there is no means of
consuming smoke so thoroughly in a
common grate.
Gas-cinders vary much in quality,
according to the sort of coal from which
they are made. When made from
Scotcli coal they are very good. Choose
those which are of light weight and
dark colour. Heavy lumps of white or
greyish cinder give less heat and
scatter a good deal of dust.
THE FOLLOWING HINT is OUR OWN.
When going to bed at night, the
kitchen fire being nearly out, take a
quantity of small coal, and mixing it
with the ashes under the grate, wet it
moderately, and fill the grate with it.
It will extinguish the fire, and contri-
bute to safety in that respect, while the
heat of the fireplace will be just suffi-
cient to cake the whole into a coke-like
mass. IB the morning take the poker
and raise it all out, and you will have
sufficient fuel to assist in lighting a
clear fire in every room in the house.
BELIEF. I would rather dwell in the
dim fog of Superstition than in air
rarified to nothing by the air-pump of
Unbelief; in Avhich the panting breast
expires, vainly and convulsively gasp-
ing for breath. Jean Paul (Titan .)
WARDIAN CASES.
MR. LINDLEY'S OPINION OF THEM.
As the Wardian case is largely employed
in horticulture, especially in the de-
coration of sitting-rooms, it seems de-
sirable to point out in this place what
are its real merits and defects. When
Mr. Ward first remarked a grass and a
moss growing inside a clamp bottle, he
merely saw what gardeners had wit-
nessed for a couple of centuries at least.
He beheld the propagator's bell-glass
with its edges dipping into wet sand,
a close cavity with transparent sides,
and an interior possessing an uniform
and unchangeable degree of humidity.
Thirty or forty years since, and pro-
bably long before, the same principle
was employed in the drawing-rooms of
the wealthy for the preservation of the
freshness of cut flowers: the flowers
were placed in a vase, the vase stood in
water, and a bell-glass, dipping its edges
into the water, covered the whole.
There is not the smallest difference
in principle between these old contriv-
ances and the modern Wardian case.
But all such plans were merely pre-
servative ; no one thought of cultivating
plants in close cases, though they found
the latter invaluable for keeping plants
alive. A cutting under a bell-glass was
surrounded with moist air until it had
formed roots; but the moment the
action of roots was secured it was trans-
ferred to the open air. What Mr. Ward
did, when he proposed the case that
bears his name, was to contrive a
portable bell-glass and its supporter,
made of materials strong enough to
bear the rough usage of a sea voyage.
He demonstrated the defects of the old
travelling greenhouses, and suggested
a remedy, pointing out at the same time
upon what principles the remedy de-
pended. That principle was 1st, to
expose plants to light, and 2nd, to in-
sure their being constantly surrounded
by a medium damp enough to keep
their system in a state of activity.
The old travelling greenhouses, or
plant cases, were open at the joints, and
the water originally contained in them
quickly evaporated, leaving a mass of
WARDIAN CASES.
parched earth in which no vegetation
could long survive ; they were also
glazed with talc, or oyster-shells, or
other half-opaque materials, through
which no such amount of light could
pass as plants require for the preserva-
tion of their vitality.
When properly constructed, the
Wardian case answers perfectly as a
means of transporting plants to great
distances. It also has its value in places
where the air is filled with floating soot
or dust ; or where it is naturally too
dry for vegetation, as in sitting-rooms.
There the lives of certain kinds of plants
may be maintained for a long period of
time, with the appearance of health ;
shade-loving races, such as ferns and
mosses, will even thrive there ; and
others, like dry crocuses and hyacinths,
which have been previously made ready
by the usual processes, out of doors,
may be led to blossom in perfection for
a season, or in some instances for more.
It is asserted, indeed, that plants
have been known to grow well and flou-
rish in Wardian cases. To that state-
ment I lend an incredulous ear. It will
be always found, upon inquiry, that
such cases are opened daily and venti-
lated freely, and thus, or otherwise, re-
lieved from, the moisture with which
the air is saturated. But those are not
Wardian cases at all ; they are merely
greenhouses on a small scale, in which
plants grow well or ill, according to the
care with which they are managed.
A Wardian case demands neither
care nor skill ; its operation is essen-
tially automatic ; it is its own gardener
in every way. The moment its struc-
ture enables the possessor to give it
daily attention in short, to cultivate
the plants within it, it ceases to be
Wardian, and may as well be called by
any other name, as has been already
shown. Plants cannot be cultivated
well in the absence of free access to air
in motion. The more rapid the motion,
within certain limits, the higher the
health of plants, and vice versa. This
is the foundation of good gardening ;
and it is precisely this which is unat-
tainable in a Wardian case. The latter
is the opposite of a natural condition ;
but plants demand all the resemblance
to natural conditions which is to be
secured by art. Direct, constant, and
unrestrained communication with air,
perpetually striking and then quitting
them, is as necessary to a plant as to an
animal ; and that the Wardian case is
intended to render impossible. It is
not, indeed, too much to add that so
far as gardening, properly so called, is
concerned, the Wardian case has done
nothing more than was effected years
before it was suggested. As a con-
venient means of enabling plants to
support existence under difficult cir-
cumstances it has value ; and that is
all. In short, it is to plants what tripe
de roche, bark-bread and fern-root, are
to man a means of prolonging life
under difficult circumstances.
Nature no more causes plants to
grow in half air-tight rooms than amidst
rays of coloured light. In the natural
world vegetation subsists in its greatest
activity in the presence of white light ;
red light, and yellow light, and blue
light are unknown ; and if green light
occurs it is only in the recesses of deep
forests, where little is to be found ex-
cept fungi, or mosses and ferns. So it
is with unventilated places; they are
the exception to the natural law, which
declares that living things shall have
access to air. The lowest orders of ani-
mals and the lowest of plants thrive,
indeed, in such localities, for all places
seem to have their allotted inhabitants ;
but the great world of vegetation knows
of no healthy existence, except where
the air moves freely around it. In suf-
focated places we find lean and sickly
races, too weak to stand alone, and
struggling to reach a better atmosphere ;
these places are the Ward's cases of
the wilderness ; natural accidents from
which all things endeavour to escape.
Lindley on Horticulture.
WOMAN. Nothing sets so wide a
mark "between the vulgar and noble
seed" as the respect and reverential
love of womanhood. A man who is
always sneering at woman is generally
a coarse profligate, or a coarse bigot, no
matter which.
10
AN INTERVIEW WITH THE REGISTRAR- GENERAL.
AN INTERVIEW WITH THE
REGISTRAR-GENERAL.
WHAT an oracle of knowledge and
wisdom has this modern functionary,
the Registrar-General, become ! How
he sums us up by millions, sweeps us off
in like manner, and taking the kingdom
in his hand, indicates by daubs of
various shades the diseases which deci-
mate particular districts, just as a
painter spreads patches of colour upon
his palette !
Well, here we are in the presence of
this oracle of statistical wisdom. He
holds in his hands three weighty
volumes, severally inscribed The Thir-
teenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Annual
Reports if the Book of Life of Death
of Reproduction." Let us listen to
one of his curious facts for they belong
to us we help to make them and
shall each of us soon contribute to
swell the tables of registered mor-
tality !
The Registrar-General tells us of no
fewer than 19,599,428 human creatures,
who have played a part in the move-
ment of the population of England
during the past three years. He in-
forms us that of that number 465,732
individuals of the two sexes had, during
that period, linked together their respec-
tive fates in life, under various forms
of religious or municipal prescription ;
but that this disposition for union exhi-
bited itself strongest in the quarter of
merry Christmas, which showed an
excess of 22,000 marriages over the
other quarters.
He tells us that, of the 19,599,428
human creatures, 1,833,299 were fresh
beings, who, in the course of the same
period, had come to share with us the
pains and joys of this world ; those of the
male sex maintaining, as is their wont,
the upper hand by 40,405, or tlje rate
of 1,040 boys for every 1000, girls, but
succumbing almost as soon as born, or
before attaining five years of age, in
greater numbers than the females
namely, at the rate of seven m. stead of
six in every hundred living.
Lastly, he informs us of the still more
momentous fact that, whilst these
myriads of new creatures entered the
world, a number nearly equal to two-
thirds of them went out of it the
deaths of all ages having amounted in
the three years to 1,171,525.
Looking through the pages of these
ponderous volumes we find that in 1850,
for every 1,000 persons living, fifteen
were married ; while in the two follow-
ing years the proportion of married
people was sixteen to 1,000 living.
Every fifty-ninth person in 1850 and
1851, and every fifty -eighth person in
1852, was married. We detect another
token of the increase of philogamy in
the steady decrease of the unmarried
recorded since the foundation of the
registry ; for whereas the number of
persons living to one marriage was in
1838 one hundred and thirty, it was in
1852 one hundred and fifteen. In that
year it is stated that 158,782 marriages
took place in England ; and during
the two preceding years 306,950 mar-
riages had been celebrated. It may
prove a source of amusement, and per-
haps of calculation also, to know how
these 465,732 matches had been
arranged
Between bachelors and spinsters 330,721
Between bachelors and widows ... 19,896
Between widowers and spinsters ... 42,915
Between widowers and widows ... 22,200
465,732
From the report for 1851, it appears
that of 1,000 bachelors in England, 58
married ; and the proportions varied
from 32 in Cumberland and 36 in
Herefordshire up to 82 in the Surrey
portion of London.
The desire to re-marry was shown
more among widowers than widows
during the three years ; the number of
the former who married again having
been 61,115 ; that of the widows 42,096
only.
The proportion of the men who, in
signing the marriage register, wrote
their names in 1851, was 69 in 100,
leaving 31 who signed with marks. Of
the women, 55 in 100 wrote their
names, and 45 signed with marks. The
proportions during the last five years
have varied little, and the instruction
AN INTERVIEW WITH THE REGISTRAR-GENERAL.
11
in the commonest elements of know-
ledge is still deplorably inefficient in the
country generally, and more particu-
larly in the counties of Hertford, Bu-;ks,
Huntingdon, Bedford, Cambridge, Essex,
Suffolk, Norfolk, Wilts, Shropshire,
Staffordshire, Monmouth, and Wales,
where no less than 40 in 100 men that
married made their marks.
There is a curious result deducible
from the returns of 1851. It appears
that in 36,186 marriages, both husband
and wife signed with marks ; in 73,141
marriages both husband and wife wrote
their names and in 44,879 cases either
the husband or the wife signed with a
mark, while the other party wrote his
or her name.
Does this imply that the ignorant
have a tendency to marry the ignorant
in a greater or less proportion than the
learned (up to the writing point) marry
the ignorant ; or than those so far
learned marry the learned ? It is evi-
dent from these numbers that in 24 of
every 100 families neither the husband
nor the wife can write, that in 47 both
can write, and that in 29 one of the
two can write. Now, as we know the
number of the men who could write
(106,767), and the number (47,439) who
could not write ; as well as the number
of women (84,394) who could write,
and the number (69,812) who could not
write ; it is a purely mathematical
question in the doctrine of the proba-
bilities, to determine how many of each
of these four classes would come together
in pairs, if their union were determined
simply by lot, and there was no inter-
ference of selection between the classes
who can write and the classes who can-
not write.
In conformity with this doctrine, the
number of marriages in which both
parties were unable to write their
names should have been 21,477 the
actual number was 36,186. The num-
ber of marriages in which both could
write should have been 58,432, while it
was 73,141; and, on the other hand,
the number of marriages in which only
one could write should have been, by
the doctrine of chances, 74,298, and was
44,879. Thus the ignorant evidently
intermarry by choice and the force of
circumstances to a much greater extent
than would be inferred from their num-
bers, and this is important, as the re-
sult is, that in 24 of every 100 of the
families that are now constituted every
year by marriage in England, the child-
ren are without the advantage of hav-
ing either the father or the mother able
to write.
The Registrar-General has collected
many interesting particulars respecting
births. He states that, in 1852, " 6,036
women bore two living children at a
birth; in 37 cases three living children at
a birth ; so that 12,072 of the children
were twins, and 111 triplets. In 15
cases the triple births consisted of three
boys, in 10 cases of three girls, in 7
cases of two boys and one girl, in 5
cases of two girls and one boy. It is
evident that in these cases the boys
preponderate, and that the cases in
which the children are of the same sex
occur in larger proportion.
We confess that we are not fond of
pondering over tables of mortality, so
we will leave our friend the Registrar-
General to pursue his stern duties, de-
lighting ourselves by the thought that
the Government watches over the pub-
lic health with anxious attention.
INSCRIBED ON A CLOCK.
Improve time in time while time lasts,
For all time's no time when time's past.
COOL CONSOLATION. Mr.Lowth, the
Arabian traveller, say thus : " When
an Arab woman intends to marry again
after the death of her husband, she
comes, hi the night before her second
marriage, to the grave of her dead hus-
band. Here she kneels and prays to him,
and entreats him 'not to be offended
not to be jealous.' As, however, she
fears he will be jealous and angry, the
widow brings with her a donkey, laden
with two goat-skins of water. Her
prayers and entreaties done, she pro-
ceeds to pour on the grave the water,
to keep the first husband cool under
the irritating circumstances about to
take place ; and having well saturated
him, she departs."
WHO IS MASTER, .MAX Oil HEAST?
WHO IS MASTER, MAN OR
BEAST /
Ki.i:i'HAN!> ud have un-
common strength ; lions and tigers aiv
Loth tierce and strong ; foxes are cun
ning ; apes and monkeys try their
hand at man's doings; but what does
it signify '! Did you ever hear that the
-. with all their powers, united
tlu-ir endeavours so as to drive a num-
ber of human beings into one of their
dens, there to feed, poke, and show
them off? or that they attempted to
fatten them as meat, or train them as
labouring slaves ?
The fact, you know, is exactly the re
verse of all this.
Q. Not always the reverse, surely;
animals do sometimes catch men, and
eat them up alive.
A. That does not alter the matter
I am speaking of. The beast over-
powers the man, as a falling tree, or a
wave of the ocean, may do; but it
cannot be said that these become the
man's master, neither does the tiger
Become his master even when he bites
frim in two ; he has never ruled the
.yuan, he has never compelled service
from him ; neither can the tiger wait
behind a bush, and kill his man with-
out approaching him.
See, now, what man has really done
with animals. See, not only the flocks
and herds, and horses all the cattle of
the land as much under the dominion
-of man as his own children are nay, a
great deal more^; but behold the most
enormous, the most fierce, those armed
with deadly weapons, all caged like
birds, fed, and trained, and made to fear
the keeper, whose body would not be a
mouthful amongst them, one whom
the least of them could snap up as we
would a kitten, but before whom they
cower in awe, not daring to disobey
him !
(I. Oh, but they do snap up their
keepers sometimes !
A. Yes, but that is when the keeper
3 his proper manner towards
them, .and trifles with the conditions
: '!;]] alone he can manage them :
iy beat them till they howl, if,
needful, but he must not trick them,
n. r tamper with their tempers. When
we see creatures like those which are
the terror of the tropics, crouched under
the wand of a keeper when we find
th.it a whale, which w bigger than a
thousand men, is hooked, and landed,
and skinned, and carved by a boat-full
of people this looks very much like
mastery, quite like the superiority of
man.
And did you ever see a little child
leading a horse ? a little fellow sitting
on the back of the huge creature, and
guiding it away from the herbage it
would like to crop away from the
pond where it really wants to drink ?
Yes. Of these powerful animals it is
even now true, that " a little child
can lead them !"
All this, you know, was expressly
promised to man by God himself :
" And the fear of you and the dread of
you shall be upon every beast of the
earth, and upon every fowl of the air,
upon all that moveth upon the earth,
and upon all the fishes of the sea ;
into your hand are they delivered."
(Gen. ix. 2.)
Well, now, let us see what man has
to do before he can make use of the
gifts of Nature that are placed before
him. The materials, we have seen, are
of three general sorts, and man's wants,
we may say, are also of three general
kinds : we have animals, vegetables,
and minerals ; and we require food,
clothing, and shelter.
Suppose, now, all these things in a
state of nature, and you a pool-,
hungry, houseless, uncovered wretch,
but very clever indeed, placed amongst
them. There are wild bulls careering
along the plain, wild goats scrambling
up the rocks, and, so far from acknow-
ledging your superiority at that mo-
ment, that see ! they are looking
down upon you ! Well, catch and eat
them ; you have free leave.
And there are the wild vegetables,
too, which cannot run away; and
fruits, and berries, and corn-seeds,
here and there : taste, and eat them.
Oh, they are growing amongst thistles
and prickles, very inconveniently ! And,
WHO IS MASTER, MAN Oil BEAST?
ah, they are very sour, austere, bitter,
and husky !
You eat a few, but you are not half-
satisfied ; and, besides, you are shiver-
ing with cold. Well, that sheep has a
f/reat coat on, which he really does not
want : try and ease him of it. Dear me,
how tiresome ! he sets off scrambling
through the thickets, frightened at the
sight of you ! Ah, now it rains !
hail-stones come pelting down the
wind rattles them in your face : get
under a tree, that is a little better, but
it is rather an inclement home !
Well, cut the tree down, split it into
boards, build yourself a house. But
you have no tools ! There is iron in
the mine, but where is the mine ? in
another part of the country ! You sit
down dejected, helpless, and famished;
you obtain a little uneasy sleep, till
the wild animals disturb you ; the
pigs and foxes put their noses to your
face, and have a smell at yoxi ; they
grunt or bark in your ear, and then
they trot away. It is very unpleasant ;
up you jump, and climb a tree
a monkey is there before you he
gibbers and pelts you down !
" This will never do ! " you say.
So you set your brains to work, and
now find a new use for your hands.
Somehow, you build yourself a hut ;
you procure a fire ; the smoke that
issues has a savoury odour in it ; there
is cooking going on, and you are a little
better off.
The fact is, that until man has made
use of his special powers and faculties,
which are the best gifts of God to him,
he must be a wretch. He cannot live
as the beasts do, nor share their com-
petence ; for, though Nature waits upon
them, and gives them all their meat in
due season, she will not do so by man.
She says to him " There are all sorts
of things provided for your use, but
they will not come to you ; you must
up, and be doing, and procure and
prepare them : YOU MUST WORK."
Well, man has taken the hint, as I
said before. See, now, the miners, the
founders, the smiths, the artificers in
all kinds of wood and metals. Man
has obtained tools, and there he is,
without ceasing, digging, and heaving,
and blowing, and hammering, and
driving, and all the rest of it. Men do
not sleep under trees now at least,
not sensible men, under whole ones :
the sawer has worked his way through
and through the mighty oak ; and the
builder, with his beams and boards,
has already caged himself in, and has
room for a score of people under one
roof.
And the architect, not content with
this, rears a mighty edifice to be seen
from far, and for those afar off to com<^.
and see, and to perpetuate his name to
future ages. Where did he find those
very convenient square blocks of stone ?
Oh, peep down yonder at the foot of
the craggy steep, where works the
mason. With patient diligence he sits,
pushing and pulling his long toothless
saw through the shapeless masses.
Did I say he ? Hundreds are at the
work ; and the rock, which Nature had
piled 'mid the darkness of chaos, is
taken down by man that he may re-
build it at his pleasure. Man can do
all this, for now he is no longer a
famishing wretch, contending with the
beasts of prey for his meal : his food is
secured ; the husbandman has learue J
to plough, to sow, to reap, to gather
into barns.
And now the beasts, which once
grinned at the roaming savage in con-
tempt, come lowing and bleating to his
gate, asking to partake of the benefits
of this state of things ; they expect here
their daily food and nightly shelter.
For this they lend him their mighty
strength, yield him their own bodily
substance ; they give up their Pugged
freedom, and in exchange they acknow-
ledge MAN THEIR MASTER !
Taylor's Glance at the Globe.
AN ODD NOTION. A sailor went to
see a funeral : on his return from the
churchyard, he said he had never seen
a funeral ashore be'fore. '' Why, what
d'ye thinks they does with their dead
men ? " said he to a shipmate. "I '11 just
tell ye: they puts 'em up in long;
black boxes and directs 'em."
1-1
TEA11LS OF THOUGHT.
PEARLS OF THOUGHT.
THE true is the beautiful.
Truth is the soul of the poet's
thought.
Truth' is the reward of the philoso-
pher's ti'il.
.-limpse of the real comes upon
the human mind like the smile of day-
light to the sorrowing captive of some
dark prison.
The labours to try man's soul and
exalt it, are the search for truth be-
neath the mysteries which surround
creation, to gather ameranths, shining
with the hues of heaven, from plains
upon which hang, dark and heavy, the
mists of earth.
The poet may pay the debt of na-
ture; the philosopher may return to
the bosom of our common mother;
even their names fade in the passage of
time, like planets blotted out of heaven ;
but the truths they have revealed to
man, burn on for ever with unextin-
guishable brightness.
Truth cannot die; it passes from
mind to mind, imparting light in its
progress, and constantly renewing its
own brightness during the diffusion.
The true is the beautiful ; and the
truths revealed to the mind render us
capable of perceiving new beauties on
the earth.
The gladness of truth is like the
singing voice of a joyous child, and the
most remote recesses echo with the
cheerful sound.
To be for ever true, is the science of
poetry, the revelation of truth is the
poetry of science.
Man, a creation endued with mighty
faculties, but a mystery to himself,
stands in the midst of a wonderful
world, and an infinite variety of phe-
nomena arise around him in strange
forms and magical dispositions, like
the phantasma of a restless night.
Lifting our searching gaze into the
measureless space beyond our earth,
we find planet bound to planet, and
system chained to system, all impelled
by a universal force to roll in regularity
and order around a common centre.
The pendulations of the remotest
star are communicated through the
unseen bond ; and our rocking world
obeys the mysterious impulse through-
out all those forces which regulate the
inorganic combinations of this earth,
and into which its organic creation is
irresistibly compelled to bow.
The glorious sun by day, and the
moon and stars in the silence and the
mystery of night, are felt to influence
all material nature, holding the great
earth bound in a many-stranded cord
which cannot be broken. The tidal
flow of the vast ocean, with its variety
of animal and vegetable life ; the atmo-
sphere, bright and light, obscured by
the stern cloud, spanned by the rain-
bow, or rent with the explosions of
electric fire, attest to the might of
these elementary bonds.
The mind of man, in its progress
towards its higher destiny, is tasked
with the physical earth as a problem,
which, within the limits of a life, it
must struggle to solve. The intel-
lectual spirit is capable of embracing
all finite things. Man is gifted with
powers for studying the entire circle of
visible creation ; and he is equal, under
proper training, to the task of examin-
ing much of the secret machinery that
stirs the whole.
In dim outshadowing, earth's first
poets, from the loveliness of external
nature, evoked beautiful spiritualisa-
tions. To them the sturdy forests
teemed with aerial beings, the gushing
springs rejoiced in fantastic sprites,
the leaping cataracts gleamed with
translucent shades, the cavernous hills
were the abodes of genii, and the
earth-girdling ocean was guarded by
mysterious forms.
Such were the creations of the far-
searching mind in its early conscious-
ness of the existence of unseen powers.
Robert Hunt's Poetry of Science.
BEAUTY. Remember, says Raleigh,
that if thou marry for beauty thou
bindest thyself all thy life for that
which perchance will neither last nor
please theo one year ; and, when thou
hast it, it will be to thee of no price
at all.
IS THE SUN INHABITED P BITTER ALMONDS.
15
dissement, for a machine serving the
double purpose of winnowing corn and
separating the best grains from the
common sort.
CAUTION UPON THE USE OF THE
ESSENTIAL OIL OF BITTER
ALMONDS.
AT a recent meeting of the Medical
Society of London, Dr. Quain exhibited
a stomach after poisoning by bitter al-
monds, removed from a man, thirty-
seven years of age, who committed
suicide by swallowing the essential oil
of bitter almonds. He walked down
stairs after taking the poison, and it was
quite certain he lived for ten minutes.
On opening the stomach, a most power-
ful odour was perceived, and a quantity
of deep brown fluid was removed, from
which ten drachms of the oil were ob-
tained. The oil had a strength per
drachm of 3'42 of anhydrous Prussic
acid ; besides much unavoidably lost in
the process, no less than thirty-five
grains of the latter were obtained in a
pure form. The matter of interest was
the length of time life continued after
taking so large a dose, warranting a sup-
position that the acid is not so active
when dissolved in oil as in water. The
stomach, from which there was still a
strong exhalation, was of a chocolate
colour in all its parts. The cesophagus
was unaffected.
Mr. Squire observed that essential oil
of almonds is not so necessarily fatal as
is generally supposed, or as Prussic acid.
A woman who swallowed three drachms
was taken into the St. Marylebone
parochial infirmary, and recovered.
Dr. Quain said the bottle in this case
labelled " Oil of Bitter Almonds" con-
tained really the essential oil. There is
a liquid sold which is a spirituous solu-
tion of the essential oil, containing only
a small quantity of the essential oil,
and answers all the purposes for confec-
tionery. It is likely that was the pre-
paration taken in the case just related.
BEGIN life by promising yourself all
you can perform, and show your sin-
cerity by performing all that you have
promised.
IS THE SUN INHABITED?
THE following are M. Arago's remarks
upon this interesting problem : " If
this question were simply proposed to
me, ' Is the sun inhabited ?' I should
reply, ' that I know nothing about the
matter.' But let any one ask of me if
the sun can be inhabited by beings or-
ganised in a manner analogous to those
which people our globe, and I hesitate
not to reply in the affirmative. The ex-
istence in the sun of a central obscure
nucleus, enveloped in an opaque atmo-
sphere far beyond which the luminous
atmosphere exists, is by no means op-
posed in effect to such a conception. J
Herschel thought that the sun is in-
habited. According to him, if the
depth of the solar atmosphere in which
the luminous chemical action operates
should amount to a million of leagues,
it is not necessary that the brightness
at each point should surpass that of an
ordinary aurora borealis. In any case
the arguments upon which the great
astronomer relies, in order to prove that
the solar nucleus may not be very hot,
notwithstanding the incandescence of
the atmosphere, are neither the only nor
the best that might be adduced. The
direct observation, made by Father
Secchi, of the depression of tempera-
ture which the points of the solar disc
experience wherein the spots appear, is
in this respect more important than any
reasoning whatever."
A BLIND MASON, JOINER, AND ME-
CHANICIAN. The Journal de Chartres
gives an account of a water-mill near
Chartres, built entirely by a blind man,
without either assistance or advice from
any one. The masonry, carpenter's
work, roofing, stairs, paddle-wheels,
cogs, in a word, all the machinery
pertaining to the mill has been made,
put up, and set in motion by him alone.
He has also, the above journal asserts,
made his own furniture. When the
mill does not work, the blind miller
becomes a joiner, and also a turner, on
a lathe of his own invention. In 1852,
this blind genius was awarded a medal
by the agricultural society of the arron-
16
THE MAIIINE AQUARIUM. DISEASES OY THE TEETH.
THE MARINE AQUARIUM.
MR. GOSSE'S ACCOUNT OF HIS EXPERI-
NTS.
MANY persons who have seen the
aquarium at the Zoological Gardens,
Regent's Park, will be greatly interested
in the following remarks. Moreover,
thousands of persons are setting up,
and will continue to set up, not only
marine, but fresh water aquariums.
And, therefore, everything which con-
tributes to a proper knowledge of the
management of them must be highly
acceptable. Mr. Gosse says :
If we attempt to collect and to keep
marine animals alone in sea-water, how-
ever pure it may have been at first, it
speedily becomes offensively fetid, the
creatures look sickly, and rapidly die
off, and we are glad to throw away the
whole mass of corruption.
Why is this ? why should they die in
our vessels when they live so healthily
in the little pools and basins of the
rock, that are no larger ? For the very
same reason that we should quickly
die in a room perfectly air-tight. The
blood of all animals requires to be per-
petually renewed by the addition to it
of the element called oxygen; and
when it cannot obtain this it becomes
anfit for the support of life. Terres-
trial animals obtain this gaseous ele-
ment from the air; aquatic animals
(that is, those which are strictly such)
obtain it from the water. But in either
case it is principally produced by living
plants while under the action of light.
If, then, we can furnish our captives
with a perpetual manufactory of oxygen,
the main cause of their sudden death
is removed. Of course they have other
requirements, but this is the most
urgent, the indispensable.
In a state of nature, the rocks, the
crannies, the pools, the sea-bottom are
studded with various living plants,
which we call sea-weeds ; and these,
under the daily stimulus of sunlight,
direct or indirect, produce and throw
off a vast quantity of oxygen, which, by
the action of the waves and currents,
is diffused through all parts of the
habitable sea, and maintains the health
of its countless swarnn of animals.
In an aquarium we seek to imitate
this chemistry of nature. We collect
the plants as well as the animals ; and,
a little observation teaching us how to
proportion the one to the other, we
succeed in maintaining, on a small
scale, the balance of animal and vege-
table life. Other less important bene-
fits result from this arrangement ; the
creatures love retirement and shelter,
and this they find in the umbrageous
fronds ; they delight to roam, and to
play, and to rest in the feathery tufts,
and not a few find their favourite food
in the delicate leaves of the herbs.
On the other hand, the plant is in-
debted to the animal for some of its
supplies. The carbon, with which its
solid parts are built up, is derived from
the carbonic acid which is thrown off
by animals in the process of breathing ;
a poisonous gas which would soon
vitiate the water, were it not taken up
and appropriated by the plants.
Such, then, is the principle on which
the aquarium is founded ; and any con-
ditions under which it can be carried
out will serve, provided of course they
be suitable in other respects to the
habits of the animals and our purpose
in keeping them. I have at present at
my residence at Islington one marine
tank full of animals and plants in the
highest condition, the water in which,
though as clear as crystal and quite
colourless, has never been even re-
moved from the vessel since it was first
put in, 19 months ago. I have, also,
other tanks and vases, which are re-
spectively 17, 14, 13, and 4 months
old. The successful establishment of
these has not been achieved without
some failures and losses, which yet
must not be considered as unmitigated
misfortunes, since they have added to
my experience, and better fitted me to
understand and sympathise with the
difficulties of other beginners. Hand-
book to the Marine Aquarian.
DISEASES OF THE TEKTH.
AT a recent meeting of the Western
Medical Society of London, Mr. Thomas
C. White read a paper on the cause of
DISEASES OF THE TEETH. SOAP. A GOSSIP OVER THE WASH-TUB, 17
dental caries (carious teeth). After
entering upon various physiological and
pathological considerations, the author
expressed his belief in the hereditary
influence, and cited some curious in-
stances. Certain trades tend to produce
caries, of which grocers and lucifer-
match makers were examples. Certain
localities, especially damp ones, and
those where imperfect drainage existed,
appear to be amongst the causes ; and,
also, mechanical violence.
Of the teeth most likely to be affected
the first molars appeared to occupy the
highest place, and those of the upper
jaw usually were the first to decay.
The "wisdom teeth" were often evolved
in an unsound state. The popular idea
of the contagion of caries was met by
asserting, that the apparently successive
decay of adjoining teeth was due to the
pressure of the teeth against each other,
caused by the upward and forward
growth of them. For if such teeth were
examined at an early period, long be-
fore caries had manifested itself, a round
chalky spot might be noticed, caused by
the crumbling of the enamel fibres
beneath the firm, but steady, pressure
exerted upon them : this opens the
dentine to attacks of acid, and other
irritants ; and sphacelus is the result.
Having thus discussed many and
various causes of dental caries, and con-
trasted the frequency of the disease in
civilised society with the immunity
enjoyed by man in his savage state, as
well as that of the lower animals, the
author was impelled to the conclusion,
that " it may in great measure be attri-
buted to the artificial mode of living in
a civilised state, which brings on a
morbid condition of the fluids, resulting
in impaired nutrition.
The treatment must, of course, vary
with the states and circumstances of
the disease. In an incipient state, from
pressure, the removal of the affected
enamel, and polishing the surface was
recommended. Where, on the con-
trary, the disease has proceeded so far
as to excavate the substance, the sooner
it is cleaned out and stopped with gold
or amalgam, the better. (See Enquire
Within, 112.) When the caries has
progressed to such an extent that the
dentine is soft and yielding, the slightest
pressure causing intense pain, stopping
is inapplicable, and recourse must be
had to escharotics. Of these, perhaps,
the most efficient was a combination of
oxide of arsenic with acetate of morphia,
mixed into a paste, with creosote. This
gives slight pain for about two hours,
after which it ceases, and the tooth can
then be stopped and made serviceable
for some time. The practice of indis-
criminate extraction was declared to be
unwarrantable.
SOAP A GOSSIP OVER THE
WASH-TUB.
SOAP at the present day being very
extensively adulterated, and the pub-
lic generally being so little dis-
posed to apply their reason to the
subject, suggests to me, that in your
first Interview with your readers you
would allow me to communicate the
following facts : Soap, as you are
aware, is a detergent article, applied to
all cleansing purposes, consequently
that soap_ must be most economical
which contains and retains the greatest
proportion of the detergent property.
Soap is manufactured from oil or fat.
either vegetable or animal. That soap
is most durable and detergent, which is
manufactured from animal fat. Palm
oil and cocoa-nut oil are largely used
in producing a soap which the public
are always seeking, viz., a low priced
one. Cocoa-nut oil soap is useful for
marine purposes, being used in cold
water; but if used in warm or hot
water it wastes quickly, and although
containing an excess of the detergent
material, the nature of the grease does
not allow the necessary rubbing on the
articles to be cleansed, consequently
the soap becomes wasted in the water,
making strong suds, and thereby mak-
ing the suds exceedingly caustic and
injurious to the hands of those who
wash. Palm oil soap is also subject to
like wasteful consumption (but not to
the extent of the cocoa-nut oil soap.)
If employed in hot water, it being a
vegetable grease it will allow only a
moderate rubbing on the article to be
IS
SOAP. A GOSSIP OVER TBE WASH-TUB.
cleansed, giving a large quantity of
lather. Persons generally suppose the
lather gives the cleansing property.
which is not the case. To c!
thoroughly, the soap should be solid
enough to resist the friction of rubbing,
yielding the detergent property on the
part to be cleansed. Soap manufac-
tured from palm oil is very extensively
adulterated. It will absorb when in a
liquid state one-third of a chemical
mixture commonly used in that class of
soap, and yet have the appearance of
ordinary soap. Aside from these soaps,
I state, that taking the bulk of soap
manufactured, two-thirds of which is
adulterated, more or less, in neigh-
bourhoods where the inhabitants are
poor, which class of persons so com-
monly seek out low priced articles take
such districts as New Cut, Whitechapel,
Whitecross-street, Bethnal-green, and
neighbourhoods of the kind where the
poor locate, the greatest quantities of
the low-priced soap is sold, the shop-
keeper, knowing how much this adulte-
rated soap wastes even in keeping, buys
.only a few days' supply, and retails it out
as fresh as possible on receiving it from
the soap makers. In some of the lower
priced palm soap one half is adultera-
tion. So inferior is this article that
the soap maker, who prepares it, is
obliged to adopt a drying room, similar
to drying of bricks made from clay :
this soap is piled in a room heated with
hot air (to dry, or, more correctly, to
bake the surface) of each cake ; this
process of drying is intended to shut in
the excess of moisture, and the portion
of silica used in the adulteration gives
a hard surface. Immediately when dried
it is despatched to the shopkeeper,
thence sold at the supposed cheap price,
the poor being most generally the pur-
chasers, being tempted by the colour
and cheapness. The fanciful idea of
having yellow soap a pale colour has
given much opportunity to cany on
this adulteration. Twenty-five years
ago a sound genuine detergent soap was
the article in common use : it was of a
brown or yellow colour, properly called
yellow soap. At the present day
"Primrose," "Extra Pale," "XXX
Pale," and terms of the like are given.
The public study the pleasing of the
oyo first, and will not buy a brown or
yellow soap, be it ever so genuine, in
consequence of its colour. This class
of soap is almost certain to contain the
durable and cleansing quality (if made
by good makers). Common soap is so
inferior in its cleansing property that
a large quantity of the crystal of soda
is used, as the soap is found not to per-
form the detergent process.
To go back to the year, say 1830,
crystal soda was scarcely in use for
laundry purposes, but it will be found
that so large is the use of this article at
the present time that something like
20,000 tons reach the metropolis yearly.
But such is the practice of adulteration
that this article, soda, is adulterated to
the extent of one half in some localities ;
the component ingredients are seriously
injurious ; viz., sulphuric acid being one
of the chief elements in the manufac-
ture of this so-called soda : the conse-
quence is, that whenever it is used, the
fabric becomes injured and rotten from
the effect of this acid, and the hands of
washerwomen suffer.
I omitted to notice that common hot
air dried palm soap is very extensively
manufactured in our large towns.
The article called fancy soap must
not be passed by, although generally
bought by persons capable of judging
in part; but when we find " honeysuckle
soap," " turtle soap," with an endless
variety of fine names, it is not out of
place to ask what is it which gives
these shades of colour. My answer is,
the colourman furnishes the vermilion,
the umber, the damp blue, and mineral
colours of this poisonous nature. Fancy
soap can be obtained of a much more
pure and suitable character ; but if the
public will not accept truths, and prefer
following after fanciful articles, they
must bear with the inconvenience re-
sulting from such indifference. To
conclude, avoid low priced soap: the bet-
ter sorts will be found most economical;
the linen washed thereby will last
longer. And remember that coloured
soaps, though attractive to the eye, are
generally injurious to the skin.
INFLUENCE OF THE MOON.
19
INFLUENCE OF THE MOON
UPON HUMAN HEALTH.
DR. MEAD details a number of facts
that have come under his own, as well
as the observation of his contemporaries,
demonstrative of lunar influence. Dr.
Mead was physician to St. Thomas's
Hospital during the time of Queen
Anne's wars with France ; and whilst oc-
cupying this honourable position great
numbers of wounded sailors were
brought into the hospital. He observed
that the moon's influence was visible on
most of the cases then under his care.
He cites a case, communicated to him
by Dr. Pitcairne, of a patient, thirty
years of age, who was subject to epis-
taxis, whose affection returned every
year in March and September that is,
of the new moon near the vernal and
autumnal equinoxes. Dr. Pitcaime's
own case is referred to as a remarkable
fact corroborative of lunar influence.
In the month of February, 1687, whilst
at a country seat near Edinburgh, he
was seized, at nine in the morning, the
very hour of the new moon, with a
violent haemorrhage from the nose, ac-
companied with severe syncope. On
the following day, on his return to town,
he found that the barometer was lower
at that very hour than either he or his
friend Dr. Gregory, who kept the jour-
nal of the weather, had ever observed
it ; and that another friend of his, Mr.
Cockburn, professor of philosophy, had
died suddenly, at the same hour, from
haemorrhage from the lungs ; and also
that six of his patients were seized, at
the same time, with various kinds of hce-
morrJiages, all arising, it was supposed,
from the effect of lunar influence on
the condition of the barometer. Dr.
Mead's opinions are formed upon some
ingenious and probable hypotheses re-
specting the influence of the moon upon
the atmosphere, and of the atmosphere
upon human beings. Similar views
were entertained by Dr. Francis Balfour,
who had for many months the charge
of a regiment of Sepoys, of Cooch Be-
har, immediately under the vast range
of mountains which separate the north-
ern part of Bengal from Bootan. The
prevalent diseases were fevers, or
"fluxes" attended with fevers. During
the month four hundred men were in-
valided. The greater part, however,
of these cases were convalescent in the
course of eight days that intervened be-
tween the full and change of the moon;
but during the remaining months of
his stay in that district, the diseases
previously mentioned increased to al-
most double their extent at every full
and change of the moon, falling down
again to their former standard during
the eight days which intervened be-
tween these two periods. With regard
to small-pox occurring in India, Dr. Bal-
four expresses himself as perfectly sa-
tisfied that the full and change of the
moon interferred with the eruption, and
increased the accompanying fever to a
dangerous degree. The opinion of both
these physicians have been decreed wor-
thy of quotation by Dr. Forbes Wins-
low, in his papers upon medical juris-
prudence.
How TO MAKE MONET. Let the
business of everybody else alone, and
attend to your own : don't buy what
you don't want, use every hour to
advantage, and study to make even
leisure hours useful : think twice
before you throw away a shilling ; re-
member you will have another to make
for it : find recreation in looking after
your business, and so your business
will not be neglected in looking after
recreation : buy IOAV ; sell fair, and
take care of the profits : look over your
books regulai-ly, and if you find an
error, trace it out : should a stroke of
misfortune come upon you in trade,
retrench, work harder ; " but never fly
the track :" confront difficulties with un-
flinching perseverance, and they will
disappear at last ; though you should
even fail in the struggle you will be
honoured ; but shrink from the task,
and you will be despised. By follow-
ing these rules, however, you never need
say " fail ; " pay debts promptly, and
so exact your dues : keep your word.
SALUTARY SENTENCES.-POETRY.
SALUTARY SENTKV
To him nothing is possible who is always
dreaming of his past possibilities.
My thy ability to Ins.- must thy genius, by
thy ability to gain must thy valour, be mea-
sured.
Francis Albert ini, an Italian Jesuit, who
died in ltll!>, published a Latin work, in
which lie maintains that the lower animals
have, like men, their guardian angels. The
tolerance of the English for blockheads and
stupid corporations seems to confirm the
opinion.
In the morning the sun strikes us as the
giver of light ; at noon, as the giver of heat ;
and in the evening as the giver of colour.
Thus, happy the man on whom God first be-
stows wisdom, then moral strength, then an
opulence of religious insight into the manifold
beauties of the universe.
The Emperor Siegmund said that he who
cannot leap over a thing must crawl under it.
How well is a wise boldness taught in these
words, and how much our English statesmen
need the lesson! Under how many things
they have to crawl for want of courage to
spring over them !
God has given thee an abiding place, thou
sayest, in the midst of pestilential swamps.
If thou hast courage to banish, by persevering
toil, the putrid waters, the swamps will
change into fertile and beautiful fields, the
deadly fever will depart, and thou wilt rejoice
as a strong man in thy health. But, moreover,
the curtain of vapour which was ever around
thee will be rent asunder, and night after
night thy eye will be gladdened and taught by
the glory of the stars.
Fire is its own law as it is its own life.
Send forth the fire in one swift devouring
mass, and it will neither heed your counsel nor
heed your guidance. But when the fire has
burned itself out and has done its work, all
the more quickly and effectually from being
its own inspiring demon, its own resistless
doom, how silly to sit down beside the black
and blasted paths and say Behold how strong
a thing is fire, let us trust in it evermore, dis-
daining all slower agencies !
AURELICS ARPIMOXT, in the Critic.
PROVERBS OF THE NEW ZEALAN 7 DERS.
A man who is of no consequence at home,
is one of importance abroad.
It is not good to lean upon a man, for he is
a moving bolster.
If it was a SUM just appearing, well ; but it
8 a sun which is setting.
THE MINIATURE.
JOHN was holding in his hand
The likeness of his wife;
l-'nsh. as if touched by fairy wand,
With beauty, grace, and life.
He almost thought it spoke. He gazed'
Upon the treasure still,
Absorbed, delighted, and amazed,
To view the artist's skill.
" This picture is yourself, dear Jane,
'Tis drawn to nature true ;
I've kissed it o'er and o'er again,
It is so much like you ! "
" And did it kiss you back, my dear?"
" Why, no, my love," said he ;
" Then, John, my dear, 'tis very clear,
'Tis not at all like me!"
LINES
BY AUGUSTINE DUNGANNE, AMERICAN POET
I SIT beside my gentle one,
Her hand is laid in mine,
And thus we watch the parting sun
In golden haze decline.
Across the fields the shadows creep,
And up the misty hill ;
And we our twilight vigils keep
At our own cottage sill.
The distant brooklet's murmurs come
Like bell-notee through the leaves;
And many an insect's mazy hum
Its dreamy music weaves.
The dove's last notes, in rippling beats,
Upon the air departs :
The breath of all our garden sweets
Is creeping to our hearts.
The russet woodbine round our porch
In clustering ringlets twines ;
The honeysuckle's crimson torch
Gleams through the dusty vines ;
The sunset rays are trembling now
Amid the trellis-bars
They paint upon my darling's brow
A glory like the stars.
Her cheek is nestling on my breast,
Her eyes are bright with tears ;
A prayer, half-breathed and half-represt,
My listening spirit h.-r.rs.
Oh ! blessed be the changeless love
That glorifies my life!
All doubt, all fear, all guile above
j\vn truc-hccj-tcd wife!
USEFUL THINGS.
21
1. SHERINGHAM'S VENTILA-
TOR. This is a very useful invention
for the purpose of ventilating either
public or private rooms. We have
examined
it s c o n -
structiou,
which is
very sim-
ple ; and
~- he princi-
ple of the invention is perfectly sound.
It is also exceedingly economical ; and
may be put up at a trifling expense. The
cost of a ventilator varies from 6s. 6d.
to 18s. 6d. The cheaper kinds are
t^uite as efficacious as the high-priced
ones. The ventilator is to be fixed in
the wall, for which nothing more is re-
quired than the removal of a single
brick. The valvular opening is placed
upon the wall of the room (not the
chimney), whilst, in the outer wall, an
ornamental air plate is set to occupy
the corresponding space caused by the
removal of the brick. The effect of the
ventilator will be found in the follow-
ing illustration :
A C
A. Section of External Wall. B. Section of
Ventilator C. Ceiling. D. Candles at 1 ft.
from the Ventilator, and 8 inches from the
Ceiling. E. Candle at 2 ft from the Venti-
lator, and 2 inches from the Ceiling.
It should be placed in the wall which
i.s at right angles to that in which the
fire-place stands, but not opposite a
door, for this reason, that the air com-
ing in at the ventilator, being met by
>,he air coming in from the door, is
precipitated to the ground, thus causing
a draught but if the incoming current
from the ventilator is allowed to pass
freely, it glides along the ceiling.
Unlike any other ventilator, its action
is not impeded when the shutters are
closed, at which time the rooms get the
most heated from the fire of the day,
and now the gas. The introduction of
fresh air is more conducive to ventila-
tion than providing means for the exit
of the impure air inasmuch as if you
admit the fresh air, the foul air must
be driven away. The supply of air
through the ventilator is modified to
any degree by a simple pulley. These
ventilators are manufactured by
Messrs. Hay wood Brothers, 196, Black-
friars-road, London.
2. HULL'S PATENT NUT-
CRACKERS. This is an invention
which strikes us at once by its useful-
ness and simplicity. The old nut-
cracker, (whose nose will certainly be
put out of joint by the new favourite,)
consisted of a pair of handles working
upon a hinge, the nut being received
between flat toothed plates, and crushed.
In the new Nutcracker, instead of the
flat plates, there are oval hollows, with
toothed border. The nut drops into
the oval, and the shell is cracked with-
out injury to the kernel. Price 2s. 6d.
To be had at C. Green and Sous, 44,
Newgate-street, London.
3. THE PATENT EGG
BEATER is a little invention of
great utility, enabling its posses-
sor to beat or whisk any number of
eggs most effectively in a few seconds.
It consists of an earthenware mug, from
the inside of which a number of points
completely intersect the vessel. The
eggs are dropped into the mug, a tight
fitting cover is placed upon it, and it is
then shaken for a few seconds, by which
means the eggs are most perfectly
beaten, and rendered fit for the most
delicate operations of cookeiy. The
only precaution that we see necessary
in the use of the egg-beater is to rinse it
out with hot water immediately after
use, to prevent the remains of the eggs
hardening upon the intersecting points.
The prices are Is., Is. 3d., and Is. 6d.
Sold at Deane, Dray and Go's, 46, King
Wiliam-street, London, Bridge.
4. WORTH'S PATENT KNIFE
AND FORK CLEANERS are inven-
tions of which we can speak highly. The
knife cleaner consists of a board to which
are fastened transverse cuttings of stout
USEFUL THINGS.
buff leather, so that the knife is brought
iu contact with a series of h
edgings, polishing without scratching
them. The fork cleaner is s
structed that it will clean the four
prongs of a fork thoroughly, and at the
same time. The prices of the knife
cleaner vary from 6s. to 16s., of the fork
cleaner, from Ss. 6d. to 10s. Gd. There
are other articles of the same material.
5. BARLOW'S CASK STAND is a
good invention for preventing the dis-
turbance of fermented liquors by the tilt-
ing of casks. When a cask upon the old
cask stand requires tilting, a block of
wood, &c., is jerked under it; the con-
sequence is, that the sediment is dis-
turbed, a second fermentation often en-
sues, the fluid is never bright again,
and eventually, two or three quarts at
the least in every cask are wasted and
thrown away. The frame of this new
machine is on a sharp incline ; its ac-
tion is remarkably simple. By turning
the wheel from left to right, the cask is
raised, without trouble, beyond its
level ; so that any sediment or hops
recede from the tap ; and when the
cask requires tilting, by moving the
wheel from right to left, it is lowered
BO gradually, that sediment of the
most limpid fluid by no possibility can
get disturbed, and the last gill of ale,
wine, &c., may be drawn off perfectly
"bright. They are made to suit every
size cask. The cask stand, price 14s.,
suits the 9, 18, or 36 gallon cask ; the
-rrong stand, at 24s., is for butts,
ids.
iSTERED CINDER
,i valuable contribution to
economy. The macliiue is
shaped like a deep pail, with a rocking
foot (like that of a cradle) at the bot-
tom. The lid is taken off, the ciuders
and dust taken up with a shovel from
under the grate, and then filled into
themoveable
sifter, which,
when in its
place, occu-
pies about
one-third of
MOVEABLE SIFTER. the height of
the machine ; the cover is then replaced,
and the machine standing on the floor
is rocked backwards and forwards, the
dust in a few seconds separates from
the cinders which remain in the move-
able sieve, and are then ready for use ;
and the cover remaining closed for a
few minutes, all dust is dissipated, and
the dust in the lower part may be
emptied into the dust-bin. Price 11s. 6d.
7. BARLOWS POTATO STEAMER.
We very much approve of the prin-
ciple of this invention for cooking
potatoes by steam without soddening
them with the moisture of condensed
steam. In Fig. 1, the old-fashioned
FIG. 1. FIG. "2.
steamer, it will be seen, is a flat plate
punched full of holes the cover is a
common saucepan cover the potatoes
are placed on the perforated plate ; the
steam as it arises from the lower vessel
is condensed into drops of water inside
the cover, and drips down like a shower
USEFUL THINGS
23
bath 011 the potatoes, completely sod-
dening them with the condensed water,
which then finds its way into the lower
vessel, the water of which it contami-
nates with its disagreeable flavour, ren-
dering it completely useless for the
purposes of cooking a fowl, pudding,
vegetables, &c.
In Fig. 2, showing a section of this
invention, it will be seen that the po-
tatoes are placed in the upper vessel,
round the conical bottom; the steam
enters from the top of the cone, and
cooks the potatoes in perfection. The
condensed water trickles down inside
the flutes of the conical cover, and
passes into the external receiver, thus
avoiding its falling on the potatoes or
into the lower vessel, by which means
it is available for cooking anything else
simultaneously, thus giving the space
of an extra saucepan on the fire.
Fig. 3 is an
external view
of Barlow's
PotatoSteam-
er covered for
use. There
is one great
advantage
connected
wi th this
Steamer,
which is, that
when the po-
tatoes are
cooked enough, the skins crack, and
the potatoes almost peel themselves ; and
thus by carefully taking off the skins,
a perfect potato is sent up to table,
which is so different to potatoes as
they are generally served, they being
not only indiSerently cooked, but often
so cut and mangled by the cook in peel-
ing, as to convey the impression that
they were diseased. In connexion with
the thirteen ways of cooking potatoes
given in Enquire Within (122) these
steamers will be found invaluable. The
prices vary from 6s. to 11s.
8. GREENWOOD'S PATENT IN-
DIA RUBBER STOPS. This inven-
tion is an ingenious application of a thin
band of Indian rubber to the exclusion
of draughts and dirt from rooms, &c.
The India rubber is fixed in a groove at
a proper angle at the edge of the stop ;
an elastic spring is thus formed, which,
when the door or window is closed,
makes them perfectly air-tight, and pre-
vents noise as the door closes dead
against the India rubber. The wood
beading, to which the India rubber is
attached, may be had of any colour to
match the frame or doorway. The
prices are from 4d. to 6d. per foot.
Door Frame
or Post.
Manufactured by J. Greenwood, 10,
Arthur Street-west, London-bridge.
9. BOURRELET'S COMPRES-
SIBLES. This is another invention,
for the exclusion of dust and draughts
from rooms, &c. It consists of the
ordinary wool-wadding, manufactured
into rolls, or soft cords, and stained of
various colours, to match the wood-
work. It is not, we think, so perfect
an invention as the India rubber stops,
but it is less expensive, costing only
from Id. to 4d. per yard. That it is
very useful, and will .greatly increase
the comfort and cleanliness of sitting-
rooms, there can be no doubt ; and it has
this advantage, that any one with a glue-
pot can fix it. It is supplied by Mr. R
Helbonner, the patentee, 265, Regent-
street, London.
POETRY.
A YOUNG SAILOR'S FAREWELL.
WAIT, ye winds, whilst I repeat
A parting signal to the fleet,
"Whose station is at home :
Then waft a sea-boy's simple prayer,
And let it oft be whispered there,
Wherever he may roam.
Farewell to Father, reverend hulk,
In spite of metal, spite of bulk,
Must soon his cables slip ;
But ere he's broken up I'll try
The flag of gratitude to fly,
In duty to the ship.
Farewell to Mother, first-rate she,
Who launched me on life's stormy sea,
And rigged me fore and aft ;
May Providence her timbers spare,
And keep her hulk in good repair,
To tow the smaller craft.
Farewell to Sister, lovely yacht,
But whether she will sail or not
I really can't foresee ;
May some kind ship a tender prove,
Well stored in wisdom and in love,
And take her under lee.
Farewell to George, the jolly boat,
And all the littler raft afloat
On life's tempestuous sea;
When they arrive at sailing age
May wisdom prove their weather-gauge.
And guide them on their way.
Farewell to all in life's rough main,
Perhaps we ne'er may meet again,
Through stress of stormy weather ;
But may we all be found above,
And anchored in the port of Love,
And all be moored together.
WM. HYK.
ON A WATCH.
COULD but our tempers move like this machine,
Not urged by passion, nor delayed by spleen,
But, true to Nature's regulating power,
By virtuous acts distinguish every hour,
Then health and joy would follow, as they
ought,
The law of motion and the law of thought ;
Sweet health to pass thy present moments
o'er,
And everlasting joy when time shall be no
more. A. HKUSTED.
BOYHOOD.
THK dreams of early youth,
Mow beautiful are they how full of joy!
When fancy looks the truth,
And life shows not a taint of sin's alloy :
When every heart appears
The temple of high thought and noble deed ;
When our most bitter tears
Fall o'er some melancholy page we read.
The summer morn's fresh hours
Her thousand woodland songs her glo-
rious h ui's
O ! life's so full of flowers,
The difficulty, ttien, is where to choose :
The wonderful blue sky
Its cloudy palaces its gorgeous fanes ;
The rainbow's tints which lie
Like distant golden seas near purple
plains ;
These never shine again,
As once they shone upon our raptured gaze ;
The clouds which may remain
Paint other visions than in those sweet days !
In hours thus pure sublime
Dreams we would make realities : life seems
So changed in after-time,
That we would wish realities were dreams !
ON A DEPARTED CHILD.
THE Sun now gilds each verdant field,
Sweet fragrance fills the vale,
The butterfly is on the wing,
And zephyrs soft prevail ;
The flowers arrayed in varied hues
Now blossom as before,
But death hath torn thee from my side,
To meet thee here no more.
The winding rill flows gently on,
And still adorns its side;
Forget-me-not, its simple bloom
Reflected in the tide.
The bird upon the slender bougk
Is singing as of yore;
But thou art gone, thy happy face
I gaze upon no more.
When sadness makes the tear to flow,
Upward I cast a glance,
With thankful heart and moistened eye,
Gazing on Heaven's expanse.
Methinks again I see him smile
In all his pristine joy,
Assured that time will soon unite
The Mother to her Boy.
PLEASANT EVENINGS, & c .
CHARADE.
LADIES who wish the married state to gain,
May learn a lesson from this brief charade ;
And proud are we to think our humble muse
May in such vital matters give them aid.
The Lady B (we must omit the name)
Was tall in stature, and advanced in years,
And leading long a solitary life
Oft grieved her, even to the fall of tears.
At length a neighbour, bachelor, and old,
But not too old to match the Lady B ,
Feeling his life monotonous and cold,
Proposed to her that they should wedded be.
Proposed, and was accepted need we say ?
Even the wedding - day and dress were
named;
And gossips' tongues had conn'd the matter
Some praised the union, others strongly
blamed.
The Lady B , whose features were my
first,
Was well endowed with beauties that are
rare,
Well read, well spoken, had indeed a mind
With which few of the sex called tender can
compare.
But the old bachelor had all the ways
Of one grown fidgetty in solitude ;
And he at once in matters not his own
Began unseemly and untimely to intrude.
Disliked this dress, that look or song
Thought the piano wholly out of tune
Frowned at the cat, hated the pretty poll,
And liked the windows closed in days of
June.
And when the Lady B would calmly
state
Wherein she deemed his views were in the
wrong,
He took my second, slamm'd the door, and left,
And made his absence often very long.
And longer still these fits of sulking grew,
Till by the post one day a letter came,
Stating that marriage suited not his view,
And that he hoped the Lady B would
feel the same !
Preposterous ! she who for fifty years
Had sought a chance, and clutched at one
at last,
To give it up ! Oh, silly bachelor !
She has you now, and, faith, she'll hold you
fart.
The Lady B at once became my wtole,
And put the bachelor to most enormous
trouble ;
Far better had he yielded up himself,
For what he paid was worth more than hfs
double.
My whole achieved a victory most complete,
And 'tis a motto with her to this day,
" If men make love to ladies, then retreat,
Let loose the lawyers, and enforce good pay.
CHARADE.
OH thou, my first, from whom much good pro-
ceeds,
Grand in thy beauty, bounteous in thy
breast,
Rich in thy treasures, rapid in thy speed,
Knowing no time of idleness or rest
Whence comes the terror that destroys thy
And makes thee tremble as with inward
dread ?
Whom hast thou wronged ? What hast thou
done,
That o'er thy face this awful curse should
spread ?
Lo ! as I gaze, my second, like a spell,
Sweeps through my frame, and racks my
heart with fear.
Where shall I fly for safety ? where find peace
To offer up my voice in praise or prayer ?
Oh ye who till the cultivated field,
Or dig the darkest mines for hidden gold,
Or cross the ocean heedless of tlie storm,
Or tend the sheep within their peaceful
fold-
When that my tchok appears, my second shakes
Your inmost souls courage and pride must
fail;
And ye, the proud men of the earth, must
bend
Like simple reeds before the boisterous
gale. .-
CHARADE BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
TWAS Christmas time, and my nice first
(Well suited to the season)
Had been well served, and well enjoyed-
Of course I mean in reason.
And then a game of merry sort
My second made full many do ;
One player, nimbler than the rest,
Caught sometimes onfe and sometimes
two.
She was a merry laughing wench,
And to the sport gave life and soul ;
Though maiden dames, and older folk,
Declared her manners were my tcTiole.
THE ADVERTISEMENT INVESTIGATOR.
rpHE OLD CIVIC TOAST. " All Friends
J_ round St Paul's, not forgetting Num-
ber One."
This is a puff (an ingenious one) of
Dakin and Co.'s tea establishment, No.
1, St. Paul's-churchyard.
P:iY. To those who wish to IM-
PROVE their BREED by giving New
Blood from the best strains, this being the
time for so doing. Apply for particulars to
A. G., Post Office, Watlington, Oxen.
The advertiser states that he is the
head-gardener and bailiff of a lady hav-
ing a " very handsome poultry court,"
from which it is proposed to sell choice
stock of Cochin Chinas, Spanish Han-
bro', Polander, Bantams, and other poul-
try, and gold and silver pheasants. Tne
lady is stated to be at Brighton. We
observe this the initials, " A. G.," are
not those of the person who replied to
our application. The prices quoted for
the stock are moderate for choice
breeds.
MAPPINS- SHILLING RAZOR,
sold everywhere, warranted good by
the makers, JOSEPH MAPPIN and BRO-
THERS, Queen's Cutlery Works, Sheffield,
and 37, Moorgate-street, City.
The prices paid for razors iu past
times are likely, ere long, to be deemed
fabulous, since a really good razor may
now be had for a shilling. "We have
shaved with Mappins' shilling razor,
and are pleased to recommend it. A
good blade, in a neat handle, enclosed
in a plain case, all for the trifling sum
stated.
Hard Times, and the Way to Mend Them.
Just published, price Is.
HOW TO SAVE HALF YOUR COALS :
a Practical Book, designed for all who
keep a Fire for business or pleasure. Bath :
Binns and Goodwin : London, Marlborough
and Co., Ave Maria-lane.
This little book, though having some-
thing of a catch title, is honestly worth
the shilling. It deals with the ques-
tions : " Can we make our scientific
knowledge contribute to economy in
our expenditure of fuel ? Can we have
as good fires as usual in the parlour, in
the nursery, in the laundry, and in the
kitchen, and yet save half our coals '
\Vr do not consider the affirmative
idhed to the extent assumed by the
author; but a very important saving
may be effected by attending to the
instructions given. We quote the ar-
ticle upon coal (p. 6) from this work.
There are many other hints given be-
sides those we have quoted.
FULTICES superseded by the use of
MARKWICK'S PATENT SPONGIO
PILINE. As a substitute for common poul-
tices and fomentations, the superiority of this
article is unquestionable. It is strongly re-
commended by the most eminent of the
Faculty for its cleanliness, economy, lightness,
and general efficacy, and is now used in
several of the hospitals. Sold, retail, by
Chemists and Druggists, and wholesale by
GEORGE TRIMBEY, 41, Queen - street,
Cheapside.
We have already called attention
(Enquire Within, 2199) to the useful-
ness of this invention for the purposes
pointed out. The sample of " Mark-
wick's Patent Spongio Piline," now be-
fore us is very good, and may be con-
fidently recommended.
KING CHARLES'S NEWSPAPER. A
Fac-simile of this highly interesting
and remarkable curiosity, with valuable and
amusing Gleanings from other very Ancient
Newspapers, sent free by post on receipt of six
postage stamps. J. H. FENNEL!, 1, War wick -
court, Gray's-inn, London.
This is a curiosity, and is well worth
the price, if only to illustrate the rapid
strides made since the year 1679 in
literary productions. Among the cu-
rious paragraphs are the following :
" These are to give notice, that during Hi
Majesty's being at Windsor, there will go a
post thither every evening from the General
Letter Office in Lomburd-street"
" The masters of His Majesties cock-pit do
desire all gentlemen that have their game, to
send in their cocks to the pit at Newmarket in
such seasonable time as that they may be
made fit to fight ; they intending to begin the
cock -match on the 15th of March. And there
shall be feeders ready to take care of their
cocks. February 1C79."
AVe will give some further extracts
in a future Interview.
THE ADVERTISEMENT INVESTIGATOR.
27
Just out, price 1*., sold by all booksellers,
HOW, WHEN, and WHOM TO
MARRY ; with Observations on the
Causes of "Marriages being so often Un-
happy." By the Rev. A. BLACK.
This is a book put forth to en-
anare the unwary, and evidently
issued in the interests of one of the
" Matrimonial Institutions" that have
been so frequently exposed and con-
demned. Under the head of " When
to Marry," the following paragraph im-
parts the chief information :
Marriages of Eminent Persons. People about
to marry, who wish to know the proper age,
are referred to the following precedents :
Shakespere, 18 ; Ben Jonson, 21 ; Waller,
22 ; Franklin, 24 ; Mozart, 25 ; Dante, Kepler,
Fuller, Johnson, Burke, and Scott, 26 ; Tycho
Braye, Byron, Washington, Wellington, Buo-
naparte, 27; Penn, Sterne, 28; Linnaeus,
Nelson, 29 ; Burns, 30 ; Chaucer, Hogarth,
and Peele, 32 ; Wordsworth, Davey, 33 ;
Aristotle, 36 ; Sir William Jones, 37 ; Wilber-
force, 38 ; Luther, 42; Addison, 44 ; Wesley,
Young, 47 ; Swift, 49 ; Buffon, 55 ; Old Parr
(last time) 120 ; (the Veteran Parr buckled
t& with a Widow at 120).
The inference is that, whatever your
age may be, the Matrimonial Society
deems you eligible. No doubt of it.
It is a book badly written, for a pur-
pose we feel bound to condemn.
Price 2s., post free,
THE YOUNG POET'S ASSISTANT: A
Few Hints on the Composition of
Poetry. By an OLD REVIEWER.
"The Old Reviewer's experience will be
invaluable to the young Poet : it kindles hope
and breathes encouragement." London
Journal.
SAUXDEKS and OTLEY, Conduit-street.
This is a book which we would re-
commend every aspiring poet to read,
and all youths are aspiring poets at some
period of their history. As editor of
various popular publications, we know
how great the proportion of poetical
effusions that find their way to the edi-
tor's table. With the aid of such a
book both writers and editors will be
spared unnecessary trouble, and the
pages of popular works will reflect
purer thoughts, more eloquently ex-
pressed.
'VTEW MUSICAL GAME. The THEORY
J3| of CONCORDS, beautifully Illustrated.
Price 2s. 6d., free for stamps. This amusing
and instructive game is highly recommended
by Sir George Smart, and all the leading
members of the musical profession.
JEWELL and LETCHFOBD, 17, Soho-square.
We have been disappointed in our
expectations from this promised aid to
family amusement. It is simply a
series of cards, printed in bold music
type. The game commences by one of
the players leading a card bearing any
note ; the next player must play a card
which will form a concord with the pre-
ceding one ; if the first player can play
another card forming a concord with
both the others, he wins the trick. As
a game, it is merely the game of do-
minoes confused ; as an exercise for the
musical student, we can recommend it ;
but, to being an " amusing musical
game," it offers but very slight preten-
sions.
MANURE (Permanent), 17s. per ton.
Farmers, can you meet the check on
the screw ? A national and inexhaustible
manure, as valuable to the people as coal, will
test any known manure on rank clay and
sheer gravel for price, fertility, and durability.
An enclosed stamped envelope to R. Romanis,
chymical farmer, Northaw, Herts, will be
returned with particulars.
The advertiser professes to be the
inventor of a manure, "composed of
eight good manures, scientifically
blended to engender the gasses essen-
tial naturally to the growth of the
vegetable tribe, as well as suit all soils,
and leave, after the chemical agents are
absorbed, a permanent improvement in
the land." He has taken, for twenty-
one years, between 200 and 300 acres
of cold, wet, undrained land, exhausted
by cropping, poisoned by seeds, over-
run with fern, docks, and thistles.
Like all inventors, we think Mr. Ro-
manis promises too much. But, from
the general intelligence of the papers
sent in reply to our 'communication,
and the fact that farmers are " invited
to judge for themselves by the crops
on the farm," we have no doubt of bona
fides of the advertiser's intentions.
28
THE ADVERTISEMENT INVESTIGATOR.
\ CENTURY OF SAYINGS to help our
A Doings. By A MAN IN THE CROWD.
Price Is. cloth.
London : 5, Bishopsgate Without.
This is a book with a " catch " title.
We were led to expect a work in which
would be found recorded opinions of
sages whose lives extended over the
past century. But we find that the
"century of sayings" means no more
than " one hundred " aphorisms by the
author, some of them being old truths
transformed and weakened by their
new garb. We confess that we are
unable to discover in what manner
such "Sayings" as the following are
calculated to help our " Doings " :
" Men of toil and thrift succeed in their
business, and at length make a holiday in
their coffins,"
" Se scarce a commodity is good sense, that
the world has made up its mind" to live without
it."
"Wisdom and genius are twin sisters,
always quarrelling."
"There are occasions when a brave man
may, without shame, act the coward."
The latter is a paradox ; for he who,
from conviction, dares abstain from
doing that which defective laws en-
force, is not, therefore, " enacting the
coward ; " he is, in fact, performing the
braver part. The book contains some
good sentiments, but it has, neverthe-
less, disappointed us.
Just out, Is. post free,
TTOW TO MAKE 281b. of BREAD OUT of
XI 1 41b. of FLOUR. By the Mother of a
Family.
Mary Wedlake, 118, Fenchurch-street.
What with her books, her oat-crush-
ing machines, her wheat mills, and her
books upon popular subjects, Mary
Wedlake promises to become the
" Mother of a very large Family." The
book before us is published chiefly to
promote the sale of Mary Wedlake's
Wheat Mills for domestic use. But it,
nevertheless, conveys valuable informa-
tion. We should have made some
extracts, if we had not already given in
" Enquire Within " (2183, 2323, 2956,
3015,) all the instructions upon the
various processes of making bread and
yeast that can be required, including
all the excellent hints given in the
letters of correspondents to the Times
newspaper, during the discussion of the
subject. Respecting the cost of the
Domestic Wheat Mills, the following is
stated :
s. d.
No. 1. Placed against a post, the
cheapest made, will cost
about 300
., C. A larger one, ditto, on stand,
without dressing apparatus,
about 4 10
Ditto 5 10 (i
., 4. Ditto G 10
5. Ditto 7 10
C. One ditto, with flour-dress-
ing apparatus under it,
about 800
If your means will not allow you to
go to the expense of No. 6, you
may get a small sieve at the cost
ofabout . . 7 fi
With the above you may grind about one
peck, more or less, per hour; with the larger
one from half a bushel to three. On examin-
ing the above you may see that the outgoings
are not very expensive.
With a small mill, such as Nos. 1 or 2, and
3 and 6, you may pass through it, from about
; a peek to a bushel per hour ; as the liour, or
j more properly speaking, the meal, will fall
under into a receiver, or either a common
plate or wooden box made for that purpose,
without any separation of the bran.
You will have to use a small sieve to sift it,
so as to eject the bran ; but with No. G mill,
you will find in the receiver below, your flour
readily separated into first, second, arid third
sorts the bran coming out at the side.
Some persons will prefer to mix the whole
together, so as to make what is called household
bread, far preferable, and much more nutri-
tious, than if made entirely of first-rate flour.
In support of our recommendation to
families to bake their own bread, it may
be stated that in the year 1804, the
town of Manchester, with a population
of 90,000 persons, did not contain a
single baker !
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
1. BALL-TAPS FOR WATER
CISTERNS. The copper and brass
balls attached to the taps of water cis-
terns being considered injurious in their
effects upon the water, it is desirable
to find a suitable substitute. Gutta |
percha globes, which may easily be
made, if they are not already obtain-
able, will answer the purpose. And if
earthenware cocks were used instead of
the metal ones now employed, the im-
provement would be still greater.
2. HOW TO TEST A MEER- I
SCHAUM PIPE. Draw a silver coin
across it ; if pure, there will be no line ; '
if spurious, the gypsum necessarily used
will take a mark from the silver like a
pencil on paper. Imitation pipes are
Imported and sold as new Meerschaum.
3. CARROT PLUM PUDDING.
The mother of a family having tried
the following receipt, and finding it
answer very well, thinks as eggs are at
present so very dear, and plum pud-
dings in great requisition, that the '
Editor of the Interview would honour '
her by inserting it in his valuable
publication :
CHRISTMAS PLUM PUDDING WITH CAR-
ROTS INSTEAD OF EGGS. One very large
carrot boiled soft, and beaten into a
pulp, sis. ounces of suet chopped fine,
five table-spoonsful of flour, two ditto
of sugar, one quarter of a pound of
currants, one quarter of a pound of
raisins when stoned ; to be boiled four
hours.
4 WILLS. We are favoured by
an eminent legal functionary with the
following : I hold that whenever two
persons save money by their joint in-
dustry, the survivor is equitably en-
titled to the benefit of survivorship ;
and that any man who does not take
the proper step for securing this benefit
to his wife, in the event of her being the
longest liver, is guilty of a fraud upon
his nearest relative and best friend.
And the fact of there being children
makes no difference the woman being
as competent and as likely to provide
properly for them in case she outlives
her husband as the man, if the respon-
sibility should fall upon him. Every
married man ought therefore to make
a will ; and I do not know a better form
than the following, which is in effect
the same as I adopted on the day after
I was married above thirty years ago.
It is not necessary to be prepared by
an attorney, but may be copied by the
party himself upon a sheet of foolscap
or letter paper, care being taken to
write the names and dates correctly,
and to sign the name at the foot, in the
presence of two witnesses, who in the
testator's presence must sign at the
places indicated.
THE WILL of J. B. , of
S , in the County of Y , [grocer].
I give all my real and personal estate and
effects whatsoever and whersoever, to my
dear wife M B , her heirs, executors,
administrators, and assignees, absolutely.
Dated this day of , 185.
Signed and acknowledged by the ~\
testator, in the presence of us, who f
in his presence,and the presence of f
each other, subscribe as Witnesses, J
C D
5. ERRORS IN SPEAKING. in-
stead of " you shall give me a separate
rnaintainanee," say " you shall give
me a separate maintenance,"
Instead of "an effluvia," say " an
effluvium."
Instead of "an automata," say " an
automaton."
Instead of "'a phenomena," say "a
phenomenon."
Instead of " a memoranda," say
"a memorandum." (See Enquire
Within, 1346 to 1601.)
6. BIRD'S NEST PUDDING. Take
four or five good sized apples pare
and scoop out the cores of each, with-
out making a hole through. Fill up
the cavities with sugar. Place the
apples in a small baking diah, into
which there have been previously put
two table spoonsful of sago mixed with
a pint of water sweetened, and flavoured
with a little nutmeg, or essence of
lemon. Bake until the apples are done.
For a large pudding the materials must
be proportionably increased. This ex-
cellent receipt is said to be by a Quaker
lady of America, and is given in Mrs.
Horsell's Penny Vegetarian Cookery
Book, in which is much valuable infor-
mation. The pudding is economical ;ui<l
delicious, and is ;i great favourite wher-
ever it is once tried. There are
families upon whose table it aj>
at least weekly, the year round.
7. OMBLKTTB WTFH ONI
This omelette is a great favourite in
France, where the prejudice against
the most nutritious and wholesome of
all vegetables the onion tribe a pre-
judice so destructive to the sipidity of
many English dishes is utterly un-
known. Those who do like onions, and
have the courage to confess it, will
find the omelette anx ognons a valuable
addition to their culinary repertory.
Its preparation is very simple. To an
omelette of three eggs add half a good
sized onion mixed almost to a powder,
and a table spoonful of chopped parsley.
The shredding of the onion to a suffi-
cient degree of fineness is the most im-
portant thing, as from the short time
required to cook an omelette it would
otherwise remain untouched by the
fire. And the lumps of the precious
vegetable in its raw state are not re-
commended even to its most enthusi-
astic admirers. The onion may be
boiled (or partially so) previously for
fastidious tastes. But the omelette will
thereby lose in flavour and crispness.
B.
8. FOR A CUT, BRUISE, OR
ABRASION" OF THE SKIN. Take
tincture of arnica, or wolfs bane, dilute
with 20 parts of water, or 30 parts
where skin is broken ; apply the liquid
with linen rag wrapped round cut, &c.
If this should be too strong, dilute it
with more water.
9. OPAQUE WINDOWS. Allow
me to give you a very simple mode of
obscuring the glass of windows, and
accidentally found ont by me. In ope-
rating in photography I was annoyed by
opposite neighbours staring at me ; yet
desirous of losing no light, I found the
following mode effectual : Cover the
glass very equally with one or two coats
of paste ; when dry take a small rag of
cotton cloth, dipped in a varnish made
of Canada balsam and turpentine, and
go over the paste ; it will become clear,
and yet no person can see through ; be-
T!IH method preserves the paste
from -1 >n. H. H.
10. JOINING IVORY AND WOOD,
&c. I send you the following, with
which I became acquainted accidentally,
and which is, I believe, a profound se-
cret except to the trade. It is a well-
known fact to persons having piano-
fortes and articles inlaid with ivory,
<fec., that when subject to variations of
temperature, much inconvenience and
annoyance are experienced (especially in
pianos) by the ivoiy keys and pieces
inlaid coming off, defying the ordinary
carpenter's glue to fix them on again.
The following is the composition which
should be used to obviate the evil :
Fine Russian isinglass is dissolved in
strong acetic acid (pyroligneons acid)
until the consistence of a strong firm
glue is obtained, which is used in the
usual manner.
11. THE USES OF THE BEECH
TREE. In Enquire Within (2445)
we have pointed out the usefulness of
the leaves of the beech tree in forming
beds for the poor. The nuts of the
beech yield plentifully an oil which is
of great value in burning, and for
various manufacturing purposes ; while
the nut-cake from which the oil is
pressed, is excellent for feeding pigs
and poultry, and the oil also possesses
some medical properties, similar to
those of the oil of almonds, but its
medical quality requires a closer ex-
amination than has yet been bestowed
upon it. If any enterprising persons f
were to take the subject up, there is a
clear road to a great success. There
are, even within fifty miles of London
hundreds of thousands of acres of full
grown beeches, and it is estimated that
one beech will bear as much as fifty
bushels of beech nuts !
12. CHEAP HOT-BEDS. In many
situations by far the cheapest and not
an inconvenient hot-bed or plant-pre-
serving frame may be made by build-
ing the sides with sods six or eight
inches wide, driving small stakes
through to stiffen them. These sod
walls may be either built solid or with
holes left, la, Macphail, for leaf or
other lining to be added, when desirable.
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
31
Upon the top of these walls lay a frame
of wood (we use only the larch slabs)
halved into each other, and with screeds
nailed on their sides to form the top
frame slide, to receive and keep in
their places either grass or other co-
verings. Simple as this may be, for a
few pence you have a mushroom, plant,
or cucumber receptacle far more ca-
pable of keeping out frost, than wood,
brick, or stone. This useful suggestion
is from an old correspondent of The
Gardeners' Chronicle to the editor of
that paper ; and the editor gives his
opinion that the plan is excellent.
13. SAFE ADMINISTRATION
OF CHLOROFORM. It is the opinion
of medical men generally that in most
cases in which deaths have resulted
after the use of chloroform, it has been
administered in too strong a dose.
There are differences of opinion as to
the precise operation of chloroform
upon the human system in cases where-
in death occurs. But it is generally
agreed that chief attention should be
paid to the breathing of the patient,
and that the medical practitioner
should not rely wholly upon the indi-
cations of the pulse.
14. SALT AS A MANURE.
Mrs. Prideaux, of Plymouth, says that
the properties of salt chiefly useful in
agriculture are 1. The supply of its
constituents, soda and chlorine. 2.
Attraction for moisture and resistance
of freezing. 3. Sharpness, without being
acid or alkaline; solubility and penetra-
tion of porous matter. 4. Promotion
of putrefaction when used sparingly,
though the contrary when used freely.
5. Mutual decomposition with lime
and some of its compounds, as well as
some other salts, giving rise to other
and often more active fertilisers. And
he sums up the benefits resulting to the
farmer from the use of salt as follows :
1. In the soil retention of moisture
and softness ; general penetration and
digestion of all the materials of vege-
table food to enrich the root-sap ; and
destruction of vermin and of seeds when
used freely. 2. On other manures the
destruction of all vermin, weeds, roots,
and seeds ; the digestive actionjust de-
scribed ; mutual decomposition with
lime and its compounds, to the advan-
tage of both ; and an improvement in
the efficacy of ammoniacal manures,
whilst it greatly reduces their cost. 3.
In the plant improvement in the
taste, wholesomeness, and nutritive
power, and earlier maturity.
15. TO PREVENT THE EVIL
EFFECTS OF LEAD CISTERNS.
To every 100 square feet of lead sur-
face let there be firmly attached one
square foot of sheet zinc, cut up into
about sixteen or twenty pieces, and
disposed equally over the "flat," or
superficies of the cistern, gutter, &c. ;
or let the lead be studded with broad-
headed zinc nails, say eight for a foot
square. Where " pipes" have to be
dealt with, zinc wire or thin strips of
the metal should be inserted a little
way, having a perfect contact with the
lead at some part. The efficacy of this
suggestion depends upon the fact, that
zinc is always electro-positive to lead
when these metals are brought together
in the presence of moisture; conse-
quently the lead could never be dis-
solved, its office being to conduct away
the electricity developed by the slow
action of water upon zinc. Both metals
should be kept tolerably clean, by
washing them three or four times a
year with weak brine. To prevent the
ill -effects of water impregnated with
lead upon the animal economy, four or
five drops of sulphuric acid in half a
pint of pure water, may be taken now
and then. White of egg (not boiled,
but) mixed with warm water, is the
best antidote in severe cases of lead
poisoning. W. L. S. (in the Builder).
16. ALLEGED ADULTERATION
OF CIGARS. It appears by the
testimony of Dr. Hassall before the
Parliamentary Committee that, con-
trary to general opinion, cigars and
cheroots are but little subject to adul-
teration ; the cheap penny cigars even
consisting, in the majority of cases,
entirely of tobacco ; although, no
doubt, of tobacco of very inferior
quality. Cigars are, however, now and
then met with, especially on race-
courses, at fairs, &c,, made up of hay
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
and brown-paper. That, notwithstand-
ing the generally received opinions,
opium was not detected in any of the
twelve samples of Manilla cheroots
analysed. Fifty-eight samples of cigars
were examined. (See the important
article upon adulterations, Enquire
Wt^tn, 2387.)
17. LAWS RELATING TO THE
ADULTERATION AND SALE OF
BREAD. Bakers, or sellers of bread,
are bound to have fixed, in some con-
spicuous part of then: shop, a beam
and .scales, with proper weights for
weighing bread ; and a person purchas-
ing bread may require it to be weighed
in his presence. Bakers and others
sending out bread in carts, are to sup-
ply them with beams, scales, &c., and
to weigh the bread, if required, under
a penalty of 5. Bakers, either jour-
neymen or masters, using alum or any
other unwholesome ingredients, and
convicted on their own confession, or
on the oath of one or more witnesses,
to forfeit not exceeding 20, and not
less than 5, if beyond the environs of
London: and not exceeding 10 nor
less than 5, if within London or
its environs. Justices are allowed
to publish the names of offenders.
The adulteration of meal or flour is
punishable by a like penalty. Loaves
made of any other grain than wheat,
without the city and its liberties, or be-
yond ten miles of the Royal Exchange,
to be marked with a large Roman M,
and every loaf so exposed. Any ingre-
dient or mixture found within the
house, mill, stall, shop, or other pre-
mises, of any miller, mealman, or baker,
which, after due examination, shall be
adjudged to have been placed there
for adulteration, shall be forfeited, and
the person within whose premises it is
found punished ; if within the city of
London and its environs, by a penalty
not exceeding 10, nor less than 40s.,
for the first, 5 for the second, and
10 for every subsequent offence. And
if without London and its environs, the
party in whose house or premises ingre-
dients for adulteration shall be found,
shall forfeit for every such offence not
less than 5, and not more than 20.
[s it not surprising that, with these laws
in existence, and with the facts admit-
ted that bread is generally adulterated
with alum and other noxious sub-
stances, the magistrates do not punish
the offenders ?
18. MAKING TEA. It has been
long observed that the infusion of tea
made in silver or polished metal tea-
pots is stronger than that which is pro-
duced in black, or other kinds of
earthenware. This is explained on the
principle, that polished surfaces retain
heat much better than dark, rough
surfaces, and that, consequently, the
caloric being confined in the former
case, must act more powerfully than in
the latter. It is further certain, that
the silver or metal pot, when filled a
second time, produces worse tea than
the earthenware vessel ; and that it is
advisable to use the earthenware pot,
unless a silver or metal one can be pro-
cured sufficiently large to contain at
once all that may be required. These
facts are readily explained by consider-
ing, that the action of the heat retained
by the silver vessel so far exhausts the
herb as to leave very little soluble sub-
stance for a second infusion: whereas
the reduced temperature of the water
in the earthern pot, by extracting only
a small proportion at first, leaves some
soluble matter for the action of a sub-
sequent infusion. The reason for pour-
ing boiling water into the teapot before
the infusion of the tea is made, is, that
the vessel being previously warm, may
abstract less heat from the mixture,
and thus admit a more powerful action.
Neither is it difficult to explain the fact
why the infusion of tea is stronger if
only a small quantity of boiling water
be first used, and more be added some
time afterwards ; for if we consider
that only the water immediately in con-
tact with the herb can act upon it, and
that it cools very rapidly, especially in
earthenware vessels, it is clear that the
effect will be greater where the heat is
kept up by additions of boiling water,
than where the vessel is filled at once,
and the fluid suffered gradually to cool.
When the infusion has once been com-
pleted, it is found that any further
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
33
addition of the herb only affords a very
.small increase in the strength, the water
having cooled much below the boiling
point, and consequently, acting very
.slightly. Dr. Kitchener.
19. COLLEGE EXPENSES. The
curriculum of a Scotch University ex-
tends through four sessions, from the
beginning of November till the end of
April. The classes, generally taken the
first session are the Junior Humanity,
L e. Latin, Greek, and Mathematical;
attendance at these, five hours daily.
The second session. Senior Humanity
and Greek, Second Mathematical, and
Logic classes; attendance four hours
daily. In the third session, the Senior
Humanity, and Greek, and third Mathe-
matical, may be attended gratis, along
with the Moral Philosophy class ; at-
tendance one hour in each class. In the
fourth session, the class of Natural
Philosophy is attended, along with the
Descriptive Anatomy or Chemistry class,
if the student wishes to take a degree.
There is also a Professor of Natural
History, whose lectures are gratis. The
fees are three guineas a class for the
session ; but after having paid two
sessions, the Humanity, Greek, and
Mathematical classes are gratis. The
class fees will therefore be nine guineas
the first session, twelve the second,
three the third, and three the fourth.
There are no other payments whatever,
unless a few shillings for a red gown,
and two-and-sixpence to the janitor.
The library, which, till lately, was en-
titled to a copy of every work entered in
Stationer's Hall, is free to the students.
The classes are all over by two o'clock,
p.m., and any employment may be fol-
lowed by the student : but if industri-
ous, he will have little time for any em-
ployment but study during the first and
second sessions. Most of the third and
fourth years' students obtain employ-
ment in private tuition. Lodgings
furnished, with attendance, cost for the
session from 3 to 5 ; and a student
may easily live on 10, if not inclined
to be extravagant. So that with 25
in his pocket, he may easily get through
the first session. In entering, students
require to be able at least to read, parse,
and construe Virgil, and the Gospel of
St. John in Greek, and to be acquainted
with the first two books of Euclid.
There are a few bursaries of the value
of 10 annually, to be competed for at
the beginning of every session ; and a
good Latin scholar might have a chance
of one of them. The expense will be
rather more at Edinburgh and Glasgow
universities, and less at Aberdeen, where
there are almost as many bursaries as
students.
20. PRONUNCIATION OF THE
ASPIRATE. The improper pronuncia-
tion of words commencing with h, and
of words beginning with an unaspirated
vowel, arises commonly from the manner
in which the definite article is enun-
ciated. As the prolonged sound of e
before a vowel gives the consonate
power of y, the habit of prolonging the
sound of the e in the leads to the pro-
, nunciation of the words, "the horse,'
"the house," as if spelt "the yorse,"
" the youse." To correct this habit the
pupil should not only learn how to
j aspirate his aitches in the words stand
I ing alone, but also with the article. Till
I the difficulty is thoroughly got over,
J the before a word beginning with the
i aspirate should be pronounced thuh,
(the vowel sound being that which is
heard in bird, heard, &c.) On the other
hand, the improper aspiration of words
arises often from pronouncing the article
carelessly. While practising sentences
! in which emphatic words beginning with
' a vowel occur, this improper aspiration
is especially to be guarded against. Ac-
cording to standard authorities, the h
in the following words, and then' de-
rivatives, is silent : heir, herb, honest,
honour, hospital, hostler, hour, humble,
humour. Mr. Dickens seems to think
the h in humble should be sounded, and
recent custom appears in favour of
sounding the aspirate in hospital. Host-
ler is often spelled without the aitch,
and humour is pronounced as if written
yewmour. (See En quire Within, 161,1323.)
21. SEALING-WAX VARNISH.
For fancy work, this has of late years
been much used ; and if well applied
and the wax good, will be a very good
imitation of Indian japan. The method
1'NUnillV.s ANSWERED.
of making the varnish or Japan i
easy, being simply reducing the w
a coarse powder, and pouring 11;
of wine on it in a bottle, and
letting it gracli.. it In ml
heat, slinking the 1-oti- !ly till
it is all dissolved. A two-ounce stick of
the best wax will be enough for a quarter
of a pint of spirits. Recollect that
much depends on the goodness of the
sealing-wax, and that you may vary the
colour of the varnish by using different
coloured wax. As this varnish dries
very quickly, it should not be made
until it is wanted for use.
22. SHARPENING STEEL INSTRU-
MENTS. A German scientific journal
: -It has long been known that
the simplest method of sharpening a
razor is to put it for half an hour in
water to which has been added one-
twentieth of its weight of muriatic or
sulphuric acid ; then lightlywipe it off,
and after a few hours set it on a hone.
The acid here supplies the place of a
whet.-tone, by corroding the whole
surface uniformly, so that nothing
further but a smooth polish is necessary.
The process never injures good blades,
whilebadly hardened ones are frequently
improved by it, although the cause of
such improvement remains unexplained.
23. VELOCITY OF LIGHT. Ex-
periments to measure the velocity of
light in its passage through a limited
portion of the terrestrial atmosphere
were made by M. Fizeau, and the results
show a close approximation to those
which have been obtained by observa-
tions on the satellites of Jupiter. His
experiments were intended to discover
the exact time required by a ray of
light to pass from Suresnes to a certain
spot on the heights of Montrnartre, and
back again to Suresnes. The distance
"between the two places is about two
leagues, or 8,633 metres, consequently
the ray of light had to traverse 17,266
metres. A point of intense brightness,
produced by the oxyhydrogen light, was
concentrated by a lens placed in the
window of an apartment on a terrace at
and being received upon a
mirror at Montmartre ; was reflected
bark again along the same line to
point of light at
:i wheel, which
carried 720 teeth, and whu-h was so
adjusted that the light .shone through
the opening between two <!' the teeth.
An eye plaeed behind the wheel when
it was at rest received th-- impression
of a full ray of light. If the wheel was
moved so that 12^ revolutions of the
wheel passed before the eye in a second,
the teeth of the wheel appeared con-
tinuous, the edge seemed semi-trans-
parent, and a moiety of light was ob-
structed. The wheel having 720 teeth,
each opening occupied l-440th part of
the circumference, and as the first in-
terruption or eclipse of light was pro-
duced by the above rotation, it was
proved that the light had traversed
17,260 metres, while the wheel per-
formed 1-1 4 4th part of a revolution. If
the speed was, increased uniformly,
more light was obstructed at the num-
bers, 1/3, 5, 7 ; and eventually a rapi-
dity was obtained by which all the light
was cut off, and that rate gave the value
of the time necessaiy for a ray of light
to pass from Suresues to Moutmartre
and back again. Thus M. Fizeau de-
termined that a ray of artificial light
travelled at the rate of 70,000 leagues
in a second of time. Astronomers have
given the rate with which solar light
travels at 192,500 miles in a second.
This agrees very nearly with M. Fizeau's
results ; the differences between English
and French measures being taken into
account.
24. SOLITARY WASPS." Often I
have seen," says M. Dume'ril, " such a
wasp suddenly strike against the web
of a spider in order to bring him out by
the unexpected shock, when they seize
him by the back, pierce him with their
sting, sni]} him off his legs, which re-
main sticking to the web, and immedi-
ately carry him away through the air
with a velocity perfectly astonishing.
Such are the habits of these wasps."
25. ALCOHOL FROM FIELD
BEET ROOT. No doubt can exist of
the profitable distillation of Alcohol
from Beet. It ia laid down by Dr.
! Ure, good authority, that 100 Ibe. of
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
35
field Beet or Mangel will yield 10 or 12
Ibs. of proof spirit (let it be taken at the
smaller quantity of 10 Ibs.), and 10 Ibs.
of proof spirit is equal to about 6 4
quarts (let it be taken at 6 quarts).
Thus 2,000 Ibs., or, still more, 2,240
llis. (a ton), of Mangel, will yield
120 quarts or bottles of proof spirit.
The produce of 1 acre will thus yield of
proof spirit, if the crop be 30 tons, 3,600
quarts; if 25 tons, 3,000 quarts or bottles.
Let the Excise duty be for the present
placed out of view, and let the value of
the spirit, free of duty or in bon.i, be
adverted to, and the crop taken at 25
tons : 3,000 quarts at 6d. is 75 ; at 9d.,
112 IDs. ; at Is., 150. It has further
been estimated by the Right Hon. T.
F. Kennedy, that the relative value of
barley and beet is as 42 to 150 in
favour of the latter. These facts are
highly important to the interests of
farmers, and should be thoroughly in-
vestigated. No doubt, as we showed in
our first Intervic w, with reference to the
Beech-tree (p. 30, 11), there are sources
of undeveloped wealth in this kingdom,
which might be turned to good account
by enterprising persons.
26. SEWING COTTON. Great
impositions are practised by the manu-
facturers of sewing cotton, the length
of cotton wound upon the reel being
much less than that indicated by ad-
vertisement, and by the lable on the
reel. Messrs. Jonas Brook and Brothers,
sewing cotton manufacturers, expose
this fraud in the following manner :
"It is a common practice for shippers
to keep on hand a list of prices of
threads of the following lengths
200, 180, 170, 160, 140, 120 yards ; a
purchaser selects his lengths, but with
the knowledge that, although the reel
or spool contains only 180 yards or less
quantities, they are all to go abroad j
ticketed 200 yards, and they do go out
so ticketed. Equal deception is prac-
tised in shorter lengths the 100-yards
reels or spools being similarly defective,
and all having the same outward ap-
pearance. The fraud consists in the
bole or barrel of the reel being thicker
than it ought to be, so that, while the
full quantity of thread appears to be
sold, the fact is that a purchaser obtains
so much more wood as he is short of
being supplied with thread. We send
you herewith a reel which we had
offered to us as a sample for a large
order; and you may judge for yourself
how small a quantity it could hold ; 25
yards would fill it, and yet it would
seem to be a 200-yards' reel. We re-
fused to degrade ourselves by taking
the order. We also enclose you a
proper 200-yards' reel, and you will
see how the public are deceived and de-
frauded ; the genuine article and the
spurious one may easily pass for each
other when wound upon ; the only way
to test them is to unroll and measure
them, and the fraud is at once palpable."
27. FATHER'S USEFUL INVEN-
TIONS. We have received a parcel
of preparations, described as " Father's
Useful Inventions," consisting of a
cement for decayed teeth, cement for
broken china and glass, tooth powder,
pomade, cloth renovators, rat and mice
destroyer, bug destroyer, beetle de-
stroyer, disinfectant, shaving cream,
stain remover, and corn and bunion
shields. We are asked to state our
impartial opinion of them, and have
accordingly examined each of the pre-
parations, though we have not had time
to test them all. Housekeepers will
find a perfect boon in these cheap pre-
parations, which are sold at 2d. per
packet. The cement for broken china
&c., is as good as can be made. The
rat destroyer is evidently compounded
in accordance with Dr. Ure's directions,
given in Enquire Within (251), and is
the most efficacious preparation for the
purpose. It will be better for house-
keepers to buy these cheap< packets,
than to attempt to make the rat-de-
stroying paste, as meddling with phos-
phorous is dangerous to unskilful hands.
The pomade is excellent, and wonder-
fully cheap. The corn and bunion
shields are also as good as can be pro-
duced. And of the oflier preparation?,
we are able to report that they are
worthy the confidence of purchasers.
The articles are rendered at a price
cheaper than thejr could be made fo>-
private use.
o 2
36
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
28. WOOD AND IRON, PRE-
SKllVINd. - Key and Guibert's compo-
sition, recently invented, for preserving (
wood and iron, either in water or air,
consists of ten parts of sulphuret of
copper, two of sulphuret of antimony,
and from five to thirty parts of the
::yinu r varnish. These substances
are ground together, forming a kind of
mint, which is then applied to the
wood or iron.
29. YEAST .A writer in the Times
having complained that he had tried the
receipt for Yeast previously published
in that paper, and in Enquire Within
(2160), and that the result had been a
complete failure, the following letter
appeared in The Times in reply :
"Sir,- In reply to the letter of ' H.' in
The Twits, dated January 17, 1 "beg to say that
I copied the following receipt from your paper
in September or October last. I have used
it ever since with invariable and complete
success.
" If the receipt is the same as that alluded to
by ' H.,' there must have been some fault in
preparing it, as I have never found it fail. I
make bread three times a-week with it for
my family.
" The bread takes aconsiderably longer time
to rise in the sponge, and also after beingmade
into dough, than that made with ordinary
yeast, and is better for being baked in a tin.
" M. H."
The receipt as tried and again com-
municated to The Times by this corre-
spondent, is precisely that given in
Enquire W thin (2160). Here is another
receipt for an excellent yeast, much
used in Cornwall :
Put one handful of hops to three
quarts of water, and let it boil two
hours ; then strain the hops away,
mixing a pint of flour with the liquor,
and while hot a teacup-full of moist
srugar ; let it stand and get lukewarm,
theii work it with a teacup-full of yeast,
stirring it often ; let it stand one day,
and then put it into jars for use. Quan-
tity one quart of the above to one
bushel of flour.
With the view of placing the mode of
making good yeast beyond all doubt,
the following further wtr actions are
given :
The vessel it is made in should be a
wide earthenware milk bowl capable of
holding alu.nt six quarts, and the mix-
ture is to be kept about new milk warm
during the entire time of making
namely, from Monday morning till
Thursday evening, and this is done by
letting it stand at a proper distance
from the kitchen fire.
I will suppose that he has done what
is required on the Monday morning
that is, has boiled two ounces of the
best hops in four quarts of water for
half an hour and strained it, and, when
new milk warm, has added a small
handful of salt and half a pound of
brown sugar, and that he has beat up a.
pound of the best flour with some of
the liquor, and mixed all well together,
and set the bowl, as directed, by the
fire, covered over with a flat dish, where
it stands till Wednesday morning, being
occasionally stirred. Now, on Wed-
nesday morning he adds three pounds
of mashed potatoes, cooled down to the
same temperature as the contents of
the bowl. It is shortly after this addi-
tion that he may expect fermentation
to commence, and as it proceeds the
mixture must be frequently stirred. It
very soon assumes the appearance of
the finest brown-coloured brewer's
yeast, rising to a crown. By the Thurs-
day evening its powers will be com-
pletely established, and then he may
bottle it, stirring it to keep it homo-
geneous.
The first time it was made in my
house the bottles were corked too soon
and too tight, consequently it burst two
of them. I use Seltzers water bottles.
Of course, when bottled, it must be put
in a cool place to keep it quiet.
When newly made more is required
to raise the bread than when it is six or
eight weeks old. It always proved
stronger for being kept.
The value of this yeast is that it is
equal to any of the other yeasts, and can
be made without their aid. D. S. Y.
We have now, we think, in Enquire
Within, and the subsequent Interviews,
given all the information that can be
rendered on this subject.
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
37
30. LIQUID GLUE (permanent).
Two methods of making liquid glu<
are given in Enquire Within (66, 230)
and here is a third : " Melt three
pounds of glue in a quart of water, anc
then drop in gradually a small quantity
of nitric acid. When this ingredien
is added, the mixture is to be removec
from the fire and allowed to cool. Glu
so prepared has been kept in an open
bottle for two years, still ready for use
on the instant. A good fluid glue,
ready at all times for use without any
.preliminary preparation, is one of the
most useful articles with which the
housekeeper can be furnished." Break
ages should be repaired immediately,
or they get worse, and the pieces are
lost. In making the above prepara-
tion, what is termed " Salisbury Glue"
should be employed. It is sold at the
ironmongers', at Is. per pound.
81. TO RENDER FEATHERS FIT
FOR USE FOR BEDS, PILLOWS,
&c. The feathers from land birds,
such as turkeys, fowls, &c., should be
kept by themselves, and those from
water birds, as geese, ducks, &c., may
be put together also. These latter are
much the best, having the most down,
and being softer and more elastic, and it
is consequently advisable to use these
for pillows ; both kinds, from land and
water birds, should go through the
same process in preparation for use. As
soon as convenient, after thev are
plucked from the birds, they should be
put in strong paper bags, and these
placed in the oven as soon as the bread
comes out, and remaining there till the
next day, they will be sufficiently dry
to prevent the animal juices decom-
posing and causing a most disagreeable
smell. After this they should be
" picked," all passing through women's
hands for this purpose, who should
strip the feathery part from the quill of
all those whose points are sufficiently
strong for pressure to cause their
piercing the bed-case, and this will be
found to be troublesome, even though
the closest material may be used, if the
feathers are not well " picked." It is
not recommended to use a large propor-
tion of the \\ iug or tail feathers, as they
are not so elastic, but some of the
softest may be cut off the quills with a
pair of scissors ; the smaller ones may
be more quickly stripped with the
fingers after "picking." They should
be again put into the oven for twelve
hours to render them quite sweet and
safe from moth, whose eggs might pos-
sibly have been deposited among them.
They are then fit for filling beds,
pillows, cushions, &c. The land and
water-birds' feathers may be mixed,
which makes rather better stuffing than
the former alone, though this is very
good for beds if properly prepared. The
price as piece-work is from 4d. to 6d.
per lb., the feathers being weighed after
being brought home picked and ready
for use. The above, from the Gar-
dener's Clironicle, appears to be a simple
and more expeditious method than that
given in Enquire Within (2318). The
method of cleaning ostrich feathers,
Enquire Within (2043), is simple and
efficacious, and the instructions for
dyeing feathers black, blue, crimson,
green, lilac, pink, rose colour, red,
yellow, &c., are excellent. The instruc-
tions for making feather flowers, En-
quij-e Within (1908), are perfect.
32. LIME FOR COTTAGE WALLS.
Take a stone or two of unslaked white
lime, and dissolve it in a pail of cold
water. This, of course, is whitewash.
The more lime used, the thicker it will
be; but the consistence of cream is
generally advisable. In another vessel
dissolve some green vitriol in hot water.
Add it, when dissolved, to the white-
wash, andabuffis produced. The more
vitriol used, the darker it will be. Stir
t well up, and use it in the same way
as whitewash, having first carefully got
off all the old dirt from the walls. Two
or three coats are usually given. For
a border at top and base, use more
itilol, to make it darker than the walls.
f you have stencil-plates, you can use
t with them. This is, cheap, does not.
rub off like ochre, and is pure and
wholesome, besides being disinfecting.
N prosperity be prepared for a
hange : in adversity hope for one.
THE AIWKK INVESTIGATOR.
The Second Edition, fcp. Svo.. cloth, Is.
P> .-.nil Q, S :
Million, With a <'h:ipn>r on S]
in Public. By th ^ H. SKKLEY,
JACKSON, and HALLIDAT, 54, Flee 1
Tlii ul little work, in
which some of the difficult branches of
English Grammar are simply and
clearly explaining The abuse of the
letter* H is thus humorously adverted
to:
-Poor Letter H' has, I hope, said enough
about himself and bis brethren of the vowel
family to make their rights respected. R is
not by any mt-ans so universally ill-treated ;
bat this letter has been, and is, so marvel-
lously perverted both by physical inability,
rind ignorant or careless utterance, that from
the mouths of many people w usurps the
sound ot' r; and you hear Cockney Sprigs
JJ'ichard Turpin was a wobber ;" and
you may hear an ignorant or thoughtless
speaker tell of the cannon's iroar at Sebas-
topol."
Of the mispronunciation of the
vowels, the following examples are
given :
" It is easy enough to give the vowels their
proper sounds when they stand alone, but
when they are combined with other letters to
form words the puzzle begins ; and they are
so smothered, clipped, and transmogrified, that
their best friends can hardly recognise them."
For instance, a is made to take the
sound oi e, and we hear :
krtch
gether
thmk
o.rceptable
for catch,
for gather.
for thank,
for acceptable.
The sound of the vowel e is changed
into , as :
kittle
forgit
intirely
inquire
for kettle,
for In.
for entirely.
for enquire.
All the nthor vowel sounds are equally
confounded, hence we hear :
for si';
pOMMt
stoopid twni'l.
gal for girt.
jest
fur for far.
cvwl for
ivdi'lous for ridiculous.
ixTtic'lar for particwlar.
impudence for j'mpwdcnce.
nrischieWous for misolu
mountain* ous for mountainous,
tremendwous for tremendous.
" These are not so much the mistakes of
ignorance as of carelessness, and mit,'!;'
be avoided by remembering to give each vowel
its/#, simple, and proper sound."
This is a very useful little book.
i Witliin (1323 to 1677), con-
tains most useful points upon " Errors
in Speaking and Writing."
ZOUAVE SWALLOWING COSSACKS,
and all the New Toys and Games of the
Parisian Exhibition for the happiness of
children of all ages. Show rooms for novelties
and elegancies in fancy goods. At A.
BOUCHETS, magasins de Paris, 74, Baker-
street, Portman-square.
We have a very great objection to
toys of this nature. In our ailicle upon
"Teaching by Toys," we shall enter
more fully into the subject. For the
present, we will merely say that the
sooner M. Bouchet withdraws his ad-
vertisement of the "Zouave Swallowing
Cossacks," the sooner he will defer to
good taste, and children will have no
difficulty in finding better assurement.
Or into a, as :
arrand ,r errand
Just published,
SPECTACLES : when to Wear and how to
Use them. Addressed to those who
value their Sight, by CHAKLES A. LONG.
Published by BLAND and LONG, Opticians,
153, Fleet-street, London.
Sent free by post for six postage stamps.
Although issued by Opticians, appa-
rently for the promotion of their trade,
this is a useful little pamphlet, written
in a candid spirit, upon a subject of
great importance. We make an extract
(p. i>b) from its pages.
THE ADVERTISEMENT INVESTIGATOR.
39
WONDERFUL PUBLIC ATION. The
RESTORER is COME. The VOICE
of the PROPHET ELIJAH. VOICE the
FIRST. Second Edition, 6d. ; post, 7d. Any
Bookseller.
C. M. PEACOCK, Publisher, 19, Cursitor-
street, Chancery-lane, London.
This is an impious paraphrase of the
words of holy writ, by a man calling
himself " the Prophet Elijah." He is
evidently unmistakeably mad. The
work is printed, as well as written, in
imitation of the Scriptures. In the
italic head-lines we find the follow-
ing:
" The Prophet calmly admonishes George Rout-
ledge Hall, Virtue, and Co., impede the work of
the Prophet r
We had already arrived at a convic-
tion of the madness of the " Prophet,"
when our belief was confirmed by the
Maniac's account of himself :
CHAPTER XVIII.
"18. On the 14th September, 1852, 1 was
a second time brought forth into the world, at
the hour of six in the morning.
"19. Within a few hours from that time
Wellington died ;
" 20. And about the hour of eleven on the
self-same day, I was taken from my home,
put into a fly, and conveyed about forty miles
to a madhouse ; for they so contrived it that
I should get there about eleven o'clock at
night.
" 21. Away with him '. away with him !
was in their hearts ; shut him up, for he is
not fit to live.
"22. I charge openly and publicly Aaron
Goold, coal-master, of the Forest of Dean,
with being the author of this vile and diaboli-
cal plot
"23. I charge John Abel, his son-in-law,
and Surgeon, with giving a false certificate,
by the direction of his father-in-law, knowing
it to be false.
"24. I charge Maynard Colchester, a
magistrate, with lending his authority unlaw-
fully and illegally to this vilest act of wrong
and oppression ever committed under the sun.
"25. I am not going into a corner to
declare these things ; I declare it, in the light
of day, and in the face of the whole world."
We purposely abstain from quoting
the "Prophecies" of the unfortunate
author.
NO CURE NO PAY. A RESTORATIVE
of WEAK STOMACHS, and by it of
General Health and Nervous System, has been
discovered. It is not to be found at any
Chemist's. No remuneration expected till
some benefit is produced. Apply, by pre-paid
letter, to A. B., Messrs. JOY and Co.s, Post-
office, Cornhill.
We applied to A.B., enclosing a stamp
for reply, but it never came. People
who confide in anonymous advertisers,
giving their addresses at Post-offices,
must not only have " weak stomachs,"
but weak heads !
TTTHAT IS WINE ? An interesting
VV dialogue on Wines, and a few facts
already digested. Price 2d. London : FOSTER
and INGLE,
This is a pamphlet put forth by a firm
of Wine dealers, but it is, nevertheless,
intelligently and honestly written. The
text is entirely free from " puffery," a
simple advertisement on the wrapper
being all that the ptiblishers devote to
the promotion of their trade. The
pamphlet gives a clear explanation of
the process of fermentation, as far as
that process is understood, and it also
advocates the reduction of the import
duties upon Wines. We have selected
passages in answer to the question,
" What is Wine ?" which, will be found
at p. 49.
MARK YOUR LINEN. THE PEN
SUPERSEDED. The most easy,
permanent, and best method of marking
Linen, Silk, Cotton, or Books, is with the
PATENT ELECTRO - SILVER PLATES.
Any person can use them. Initial Plate, Is. ;
Name, 2s. ; Set of Numbers, 2s ; Crest, 5s.
With directions sent post-free (for stamps)
by the Inventor and Sole Patentee, T.
CULLETON, 2, Long-acre (one door from St.
Martin's-lane).
The method of marking linen with
these perforated plates is so easy and
expeditious, that ladies should not fail
to adopt it. N"ay more, husbands should
see to it, for by the proper marking of
things, laundresses' bluuder.s,wilful and
otherwise, are avoided, and thus do-
mestic economy is promoted. The plan
is an excellent one, and though not new
in invention, is new in practice.
40
PLEASANT EVENINGS, &c.
CHARADE THE SHIPWRECK.
THE wind howled, and the heaving sea
Touched the clouds, then backward
rolled:
And the ship she strove most wcndrouslv,
"With ten feet water in her hold.
The night it darkened, and my first
No sailor's eye could see,
And ere the day should dawn again,
Where might the sailor be ?
Before the rising of the sun
The ship lay on the strand,
And silent was the minute gun
That signalled to the land.
The crew my second had secured,
And they all knelt down to pray,
And on their upturned faces fell
The early beam of day.
The howling of the wind had ceased,
And smooth the waters ran,
And beautiful appeared my whole
To cheer the heart of man.
ENIGMA.
WITHOUT me the world had never been
Other than forest wild, or ocean green.
I map the earth with lines all fair to see,
Remove the mountain, and transplant the
tree.
Egypt's vast pyramids of me were born ;
Without me Greece were of her temples
shorn.
By me the palace rear'd which shelters
kings ;
By me the cot wherein the loving maiden
sings.
By me the ship is steered across the sea,
By me the battle fought triumphantly.
By me the seed is sown, the harvest gleaivd,
And stubborn soil from barrenness redeem'd.
With hands, without, my functions are
fulfilled,
Wherever web is spun, or land is till'd.
Bird and beast, fish, reptile, all devote
Themselves to me, in town or clime remote.
What am I, then ? Surely, I'm known to you ;
Your friend oldest, and best, and ever true.
CHARADE.
^il first she was a serving-maid
She went to fetch some tea ;
How much she brought my second tell .
As plainly as can be.
Now when you have the answer fcu-vl.
Name it to others too ;
My whole is just the very thing
ID telling them, you'll do
CHARADE.
FEELING very ill one day
(What it was I cannot say),
But a pain like tic doloreux
Ran the nerves of my head through
Twinge and pang, pang and twinge.
Soon the door was on the hinge,
And the doctor coming in,
Felt my pulse, and pulled my chin,
That he might better see the tongue
Which only sad complainings sung.
Then he formed a sage conviction,
And wrote at once a good prescription
Calling then my servant maid,
He in her hands the paper laid :
"My first, my second, instantly,
Or your master worse will be ! "
But the minx she loitered long ;
Pain increasing, spasms strong,
Down I fell and took a roll :
On what I fell reveals the whole.
Pity that the servant maid
On her errand thus delayed !
ENIGMA.
I'VE led the powerful to deeds of ill,
And to the good have given determined will.
In battle-fields my flag has been outspread,
Amid grave senators my followers tread
A thousand obstacles impede my upward way,
A thousand voices to my claims say, " Nay ;"
For none by me have e'er been urged along,
But envy followed them and breathed a tale of
wrong.
Yet struggling upward, striving still to be
Worshipp'd by millions by the bound and
free,
I've fought my way, and on the hills of Fame,
The trumpet's blast pronounced the loud
acclaim ;
When by the judgment of the world I've been
Hurl'd from the height my eyes have scarcely
seen,
And I have found the garland o'er my head,
Too frail to live my home was with the dead.
CHARADE.
WHEN upon the gallows-tree
The culprit swings myfir.it :
My second there will speedy be,
To one of men the worst.
Oh, that a man should risk his soul,
And against God should dare my whole.
ANSWERS TO CHARADES, page 23:
1. Plain-tiff.
2 Earth-quake.
3 Flip-pant.
GARDENING FOR FEBRUARY.
GARDENING FOR FEBRUARY.
STOVE AND GREENHOUSE. Be atten-
tive to remove dead leaves from the
plants, to keep the earth in the pots in
a loose state, and to admit fresh air
when the weather permits. The potted
plants that are still in a dormant state
and have been kept dry during the
winter, may towards the time of their
removal be plunged to a considerable
depth in water of about 60 degs., in
order thoroughly to moisten the mould
around them, as a preparation for regu-
lar watering. Syringing the leaves of
other plants and sprinkling water on
the alleys are found useful in producing
atmospheric humidity in climates where
the external air is very cold and dry
moisture with heat being, as already
mentioned, the most favourable combi-
nations for promoting vegetation.
The woody plants in the greenhouse
that are in a state of torpor, except
when the mould is in a state of dust
and the leaves are withering, should
not be yet encouraged to grow, by heat
or watering. Pelargoniums however will
bs now exhibiting symptoms of life,
and will require repotting with fresh
mould, and in some cases to b trans-
ferred to larger pots. In doing this,
shake the earth almost entirely from
the roots, and remove tho dead fibres
from the roots with the finger, avoiding
to use the knife unless it be to trim
with a tender hand dead or decayed
roots. Stake the stems and tie them to
the sticks, which ought to be taller
than the plants, with soit and flexible
bands of rushes, strips of matting, or
worsted, &c.
There is no part of the gardener's
employment more delightful than that
of anticipating the season of vegetation
at this time, and enlivening the gloom
of a dreary period by calling forth the
freshness and bloom of the many flow-
ers which will now begin to expand
their corollas. Varieties of the Double
Almond, with the Rhodora, and some
other plants, appear now before their
leaves push forth, and artificial warmth
will bring forward many beautiful
plants.
Roses and other hardy plants, brought
into the stove-house for forwarding, are
liable to the attacks of the green fly
called the Aphis. If you are fond of a
pipe or cigar, you may perhaps smoke
this insect out ; in this way tobacco-
smoking may bo turned to a useful
purpose, which cannot be said of the
practice in general. Scattering pun-
gent snuff on the plants is another and
perhaps more effectual remedy. A cor-
respondent of the Gardeners' Chronicle
mentions, that having casually put a
titmouse into his greenhouse, he found
that this little operative cleared all his
plants of insects, which had crowded
among his Cinerarias in particular, from
which he had found it most difficult to
dislodge them.
In the stove-house, the bottom heat
of the tan-pits must be sustained by
forking up the bark (this at the begin-
ning of the month, and occasionally
afterwards if necessary), to give it time
to ferment : the progress of choice
flowers and fruits cannot be expected
if the heat of the tan be not sustained.
You will now be busy in forcing
strawberries, French beans, peas, car-
rots, potatoes, radishes, asparagus, sea-
kale, &c. If the peas and beans sown
last month under frames should now
touch the glass, you can check their
tendency to spindle, by turning their
tops towards the back part (the north
side) of the frame; if they be con-
strained in that position for a few days,
by means of a lath or any other con-
trivance, they will afterwards, of them-
selves, take that direction, and branch
out as desired.
Line such hotbeds as have cooled
down, and make new ones for melon
and cucumber plants, from the seed-
bed. Cold beds will answer very well
when re-dressed for the radishes, which
do not grow well in the heat that is
necessary for cucumbers, or for the
reception of cauliflower-seedlings and
salading, picked out from their native
bed.
Cover all your glass-houses, if pos-
sible, and frames, completely with mat-
ting and straw during severe frost, and
if you have a quantity of dry leaves, you
will find them most serviceable as an
CAKI'KNiNG FOR
exterior liniug to keep off frost : by
placing short stakes round the 1
of dung or clay-mortar, as the
may be. y u C ' :U1 1 "'event them I'roia
being moved by wind : tilling the alleys
between the beds of Anemones, &c.,
will be .serviceable, as security from
frost, but will not supersede the neces-
sity of laying mats over the beds, while
the frost is prevailing.
If you have not sown cucumbers in
a bed made last month, do not delay to
do so now, or else procure plants from
gardeners who have sown at an earlier
period. The plants will be fit for put-
ting into their bearing beds when they
have pushed two rough leaves, and
began to exhibit the appearance of run-
ners or shoots coming forth. Having
made the new bed as before directed,
cover it over to the depth of four
inches with light rich mould, mixed
with peat, raising a little mound under
the centre of each light, and rather
nearer the back than the front, and
three or four bushels laid round the
frame on the inside, all of which mould
is to be stirred daily. Everything
having been thus prepared, take four
pots of the plants (those which appear
to be the finest, of course), put the
mould into a round heap under the
middle of each light of the new bed ;
make a hole in the centre of the heap,
suitable for your purpose; take the
pots or plants, one at a time, put the
fingers of one of your hands on the
top of the earth of the pot, then turn
the pot upside down, give the rim of it
a little tap upon the edge of the frame,
pushing the oyster shell with the fore-
finger of the right hand, and the plants
and earth will come clean out of the
pot in a connected ball, which with
both hands you are to deposit in the
hole which you have made in the heap,
in the centre of the light. When you
have thus deposited it, draw the earth
of the heap well up about the ball, and
press it a little with your fingers, tak-
ing care of two things first, that the
hole be sufficiently deep to admit the
ball down into it, so low that the earth
of the hill when drawn up about the
plants may come up quite to the lower
side of the stem of the seed-leaves ;
and secondly, taking c;n-e that the
points of the. leaves of the plants be
not more than .six inches distant from
the glass. One plant is enough to esta-
blish under each light, for crowding
always defeats the object by causing
a growth of small plants which are
rendered defective by the interference-
of the roots, and their perpetual strug-
gles for advancement. Water these
plants once or twice gently with rain
or pond water, warmed either by hav-
ing been left for twenty-four hours in
the frame, or by the adoption of a
sufficient quantity of boiling water;
and also those that are in pots sunk in
any part of the bed as a reserve for
supplying any failures in the others.
Next prepare a lining (which you will
have to apply in about a fortnight) to
the back, to the height of the frame,
laying a board on it close against the
frame to prevent the steam which will
soon arise from entering the bed, and
another lining (if necessary) in a fort-
night after to the front, and afterwards
(allowing the same interval of time to
intervene) to the sides. On the autho-
rity of the Gardeners Chronicle, how-
ever, there will be no danger from the
rank steam, as long as the condensed
water on the sashes is^of pure colour.
Keep up the linings as they sink by
adding fresh materials to the top^
litter, straw, or mats, will occasionally
be required to guard against frost or
east winds, especially at night, but
fresh air must be admitted, more or-
less according to the state of the wea-
ther without, and the degree of heat
within, by raising the frame either in
front or behind (the direction of the
wind being considered), for air as v.vll
as strong heat are indispensable to the
health and fruitfulness of the cucumber,
and light must never be intercepted.
The runners are to be encouraged to
cover the entire surface 1 .
(for the finger and thumb should always
be used for this operation in preference
to the knife, which causes a wound),
when they have got three joints from
their tops, which makes them throw
out side-shoots from each of those
GARDENING- FOR FEBRUARY.
joints. When these new shoots or
runners have four complete joints,
pinch off the fifth as soon as it appears.
By this treatment there will be a suffi-
cient number of runners for each light.
As the plants become vigorous they
will require fresh mould, which is to be
drawn from the sides of the frame to
the mounds in the centre for the nou-
rishment of the roots ; and as their
fibres will continually stretch out in
search of food, you are to increase the
circumference of those mounds contin-
ually, by removing the earth to them
from the sides until the whole surface
of the bed is on a level with the central
parts. The blossoms must be impreg-
nated, as will be noticed in the treat-
ment of the melon.
Towards the end of the month make
the first melon bed, as for cucumbers,
except that the mould should be more
tenacious, and the lights larger. One
plant only should be put under each
light, if the frame be of moderate size ;
but if two be planted, let them be
fifteen inches apart lengthways with
regard to the frame. If the Persian
and Cabul kinds be chosen, the shoots
will not require pinching like other
varieties ; the leading one is to be
trained under the centre of the light,
and the lateral ones on each side at
right angles. Generally, melons raised
from seed should be stopped when they
put off the rough leaves, and only one
shoot should be allowed to run from
the axil of each of the two rough leaves
left on the plant ; those which proceed
from the axils of the cotyledon leaves
being suppressed at their first appear-
ance; and again when these two main
runners have attained about two feet in
length, in order to produce fruitful
laterals, for otherwise they become too
much drawn and long jointed. Those
that are from cuttings have far less
vine, and do not require topping until
they show fruit. When the melon is
in flower, watering over bead must be
dispensed with, and gentle vapour only
occasionally raised to nourish the leaves,
for it would be injurious to keep the
flowers too moist at this time. Every
female blossom must now be carefully
impregnated, and as soon as the fruits
are set and beginning to swell, plenty
of moisture and a closer atmosphere
will be of the greatest service till they
are swelled full size, when moisture at
the root and also vapour on the leaves
must be finally dispensed with. These
judicious observations from a corre-
spondent of Mr. London prove that the
melon requires much careful treatment.
The raising of cucumbers is much
easier, but the great superiority of the
other gives it a just claim to extreme
care. Those gardeners who provide
luxuries for the table, pot single plants
to produce a single fruit for the stove-
house.
The impregnation of the blossoms is
effected by applying the pollen of one
flower to the stigma of another, and
this is done by pinching off one of the
male flowers, and after carefully strip-
ping it of its corolla, so as not to injure
the stamen or anther, inserting it into
the female flower, and leaving ifc there.
The same plan must be adopted for
cucumbers grown in frames, at an early
period of the year, on account of the
little chance there is of plants so situa-
ted at such a season being casually
impregnated by bees, &c.
You may sow cabbage seed, and like-
wise celery, in a mild heat. At the
latter end of the month, supposing the
weather favourable, you may pot the
tender annuals that were sown a month
or six weeks ago, putting three or four
plants into each pot. Make cuttings of
everything you want, and part roots,
and make root cuttings of those plants
which are so propagated. With respect
to cuttings generally, I cannot forbear
quoting the experience of that highly-
gifted author and practitioner, Mr. Lou-
don, respecting the advantage of multi-
plying plants by their means, instead of
by seedlings.
"In an atmosphere as above described,
let the cutting-pots, prepared in the
following manner, be placed half a day
previous to their being used, in order
that the mould may be warm, to pre-
vent a check by cold soil, to the bottom
of an exotic cutting. If provided with
a small crystal bell glass, or a small
GARDENING FOR FEBRUARY.
hand light, closely glazed, either of
these may be used ; but if pi-ovided
with neither (which is nothing uncom-
mon), you can doubtless command as
much glass in square or fragment, as
will cover the mouth of a 48-sized pot.
"The cuttings should be taken from
the extremities of the healthiest vines,
cut close below the third joint from the
tip, and inserted in thumb-pots filled with
leaf-soil and loam mixed, about half an
inch below the surface of the soil ; and
these placed in the bottom of a 48-sized
pot, and the cavity between the two
pots stuffed with moist moss, and the
glass laid over the top of the outer pot,
TV Inch ought to be plunged into a hot-
bed to the brim.
tf This is an improvement in striking
cuttings which I have never made
known before, nor have I ever seen it
practised by any one else. It is a com-
mon way to fill a pot three-fourths full
of soil, and in that to insert the cut-
tings under a pane of glass ; and I have
no doubt, when those that have prac-
tised that mode come to see this simple
improvement, so much more workman-
like and applicable, not only to melon
cuttings, but to all sorts of cuttings
exotic, greenhouse, and hardy, they
will feel nowise reluctant to relinquish
the old way.
"The advantages of this mode are,
when the cuttings get up to the glass,
which they generally do before they
have struck root, the outer pot can be
changed for one a little deeper, and the
moist moss serves the twofold purpose
of conducting heat and moisture ; and
as the heat of the tan or dung-pit will
be 80 or 40 above that of the atmo-
sphere of the house or pit (a good tan-
bed will range about 110 at six inches
deep), it will be communicated through
the outer pot to the atmosphere around
the cuttings, thereby accelerating their
striking root. This high atmospheric
heat is an advantage possessed in com-
mon with the old system over the bell
glass propagating pot."
Dahlias may be 'put into hotbeds
during any part of the month, to make
them push. The seeds of Dahlia, Cal-
ceolaria, Polyanthus, and of various
annual flowers and kitchen vegetables,
may now be sown in mild hotbeds
under frames. Peat or heath mould is
the best covering for Calceolarias, and
when they have put out two leaves,
they should be pricked out into two-
inch pots, filled with good mould, and
transferred to four-inch pots when then?
tissue has overspi'ead the sides. Sow
successions of celery and cauliflower in
cool beds, and after three weeks the
seedlings will be fit for pricking out
into fresh ones.
Pot all the autumn propagated plants
in framed pits, so as to have them well
rooted and turned out in April, in
oi\ler that the pots may be disengaged
for a new succession of plants, which
ought at this time to be making pro-
gress in a propagating frame.
OPEN GROUND. Keep the Auriculas
free from insects and diseased leaves,
and replace the old mould at the surface
with fresh ; and if you have any under
common garden frames, be most par-
ticular to give them air. When the
trusses are rising to the heart, earth up
the stems of Polyanthuses with fresh
compost, and as Tulips appear above
ground cover them up well with sand,
which is some security against frost, and
otherwise serviceable to them. Plant
out Anemones and Kanunculuses in
drills seven inches apart and four inches
between the plants, which you should
put in with a trowel ; and if frost have
pulverised the earth, so much the
better.
The middle of this month is the best
time for providing scions, for grafting
rose-trees and fruit-trees next month:
these should be selected with judgment
as to the sorts, and pruned off, where
they can best be afforded, in lengths of
from two to three inches, separated and
labelled. When you have arranged a
sufficient number, and rubbed off the
buds, stick the thickest ends into moist
clay, closely pressed round them, and
then put them thus clotted iuto a pot
of earth, in which they may remain
under some shed until wanted. At the
close of this or the commencement of
the next month, time, which will be
more precious then than now, may bo
GARDENING FOR FEBRUARY.
saved by this timely preparation of
scions, where much of this nursery
work is to be performed, and you will
thus have the scions in the best order
for grafting, for this treatment will test
their vigour : those that shrink and
become feeble, you will reject out of
the number prepared, which should
considerably exceed the number actu-
ally required. Provide stocks, if you
have not already done so, for grafting
and budding during the ensuing season.
In the Kitchen Garden pursue the
works of digging, trenching, turning
composts, &c., in open weather ; and in
allotting portions of ground for par-
ticular seeds or plants, endeavour to
change the crops as much as possible,
because, by the frequent recurrence of
the same in any given spot, they de-
generate (generally speaking), and by
depriving the soil of peculiar alimen-
tary substances, or by making frequent
deposits of the same kind of excretion,
they render that soil indisposed to their
individual support, though fertile for
other families of plants. Another cause
why the culture of a particular tribe
without variation should be discon-
tinued in the same ground is, the me-
chanical effect which it may produce on
its soil, by rendering it, for instance,
excessively friable, or the contrary.
No annual vegetables ought, prudently,
to succeed each other; vary them
therefore as much as you can. You
will find that celery gives a good pre-
paration for carrots, turnips, parsnips,
onions, and early cauliflowers, or for
peas with potatoes and winter greens
or brocoli between the rows. Autumn-
sown onions may be succeeded by spin-
ach, lettuce, &c., and early cauliflowers
by autumn onions. Spring-sown onions
will be advantageously succeeded by
cabbages in beds, with scarlet runners
between ; and if the cabbages stand all
summer and next winter the ground
will come in in the spring, along with
brocoli ground for celery, potatoes, and
peas the peas sown on the ridges.
During rain you can find employ-
ment, besides what the stovehouses and
conservatories afford, in making and
repairing mats and straw covers, shades
for Dahlias, preparing stakes, cutting
shreds, making paper bags for the bulbs
of next year, &c., &c.
If the season be mild you may sow,
towards the close of the mouth, a great
variety of seeds in the open air, but do
not be tempted to sow by a pet day,
which may be succeeded by a deluge of
rain and heavy frost. If however seeds
and labour are of no great value to you,
there can be no objection to your ad-
venturing a little in warm borders, for
the sake of obtaining early productions
carrots for instance : but be prudent
in this particular. Kidney-beans are so
delicate, that there is no use in sowing
them yet out of doors, at least without
some artificial protection. Peas and
beans should be sown for succession,
and salading and early cabbages should
be planted out, as well as rocambole
(Spanish shallot) and Jerusalem arti-
chokes. Seakale may now be abun-
dantly forced in the open garden with
litter and pots. Protect the wall fruit-
trees that are in blossom from frost by
light matting, thin canvas, or (as Aber-
crombie recommends) by interweaving
through the branches boughs of ever-
greens from time to time.
WATER, AND ITS PURIFICATION.
IN Enquire Within (320) we have
pointed out the various vise of charcoal
as a purifier, and in the same work we
have pointed out the effect of wood
ashes (charcoal) in softening hard water.
The Illustrated London News has pub-
lished an excellent article, entering
more fully into the subject, and from
this source we derive many of the fol-
lowing remarks and facts :
The great importance of the use of
pure water for domestic and dietetic
pui'poses is now so generally recognised
that it might seem almost superfluous*
to insist upon the noxious influence
exei'cised upon the human frame by
the constant use of this fluid when
teeming with vegetable and animal
putridities at once offensive to the
palate and sufficiently evident to the
eye. It may not, however, be so gene-
rally known that water which to the
ordinary observer may seem clear and
WATER, AND ITS PURIFICATION.
limpid and pleasant to the taste, espe-
cially when first drawn iV:u tlu
tacle in which it has been piv-
may contain within it th
-t hurtful to the bu
has been abundantly proved by the
mk'ivscopical observation and analytical
nation of the most eminent sci-
entific inquirers of the present day.
There are three principal means
of purification of water. Purlji
jsition is effected by collecting
water in large basins or reservoirs, and
allowing it to remain stagnant till the
mechanical impurities are deposited at
the bottom, after which the supernatant
fluid is drawn off. By this means the
impurities that are held in suspension
are alone separated, while the large size
of the reservoirs, and the long time
required for subsidence, render the
amount of water which can be obtained
in this manner very small in proportion
to the outlay required ; and the putre-
fying gases Avlxch must result from the
decomposition of the organic matter
which subsides cause the water so
obtained to be anything but agreeable.
The second method is that of purifi-
cation ly reagents as alum or lime
which form a weighty precipitate when
added to the water, and, while subsid-
ing, take down with them certain or-
ganic matters. These processes resem-
ble somewhat in principle the common
domestic operation of clarifying liquids,
as coffee, by boiling it with the white
of egg. This Although found to answer
ni the laboratory, is difficult of applica-
tion on an extended scale.
The third method is that of purifica-
tion ly filtration. To be perfect, a filter
should be capable of separating both
mechanical and chemical impurities.
To effect this the water is passed through
a porous substance, which will arrest
the progress of mechanical impurities,
and at the same time act chemically
and withdraw such matters as are in
solution.
On a large scale the process of cleans-
ing now adopted consists essentially in
making the water pass through a con-
siderable thickness of gravel, sand, or
finely-divided stones, arranged in a sue-
u of layers. In some cases the
Is first purified by subsidence as
above mentioned, and afterwards made
to traverse these layers. The nature of
the stone depends much upon the
locality of the reservoir, and other cir-
cumstances, sometimes the natural con-
stituents in the soil supplying the most
appropriate material. In addition to
those substances which act by separat-
ing mechanical impurities only, other
materials, especially animal charcoal and
certain species of clay, are used, and
these substances possess the remarkable
property of withdrawing all traces of ani-
mal and vegetable matter, even when in a
state of perfect solution. In some forms
of filter the water is made to pass from
above downwards through the various
purifying media ; while in others the
current is sent in an opposite direc-
tion, passing from below upwards, so
that the pure water passes to the top,
and is drawn off froi* that surface.
For domestic purposes numerous
varieties of filters have been brought
before the public. Wool and sponge,
as media for filtration, have had their
respective advocates : they act mechani-
cally merely. The expense of the
former would render it inapplicable on
a large scale, and the latter would re-
quire frequent renewal : the heavier
earthy matters might be retained ; but
the minute organic and auimalcula con-
tents would not be arrested thereby. It
is in the removal of these that animal
charcoal is particularly useful its
peculiar absorbent powers, both for
gaseous and other organic matters being
very remarkable. >So strong is the
affinity which it possesses for vegetable
and animal matters, that water con-
taining the most poisonous substances,
after being passed through a layer of
animal charcoal, may be taken with im-
punity. Vegetable charcoal possesses
the same properties, though in a less
degree. Laudanum, which is of a dark
port-wine colour, if passed through it,
comes out free from colour and odour.
We Lave, then, in tlus material a
most valuable disinfectant agent. When
used alone as a medium for filtration,
it soon becomes, however, more or less
DETECTING POISONS.
<x>im>letely matted together, and the
rate' of filtration becomes very slow.
Hence it requires to be mingled with
some other substance, as fine sand,
stone, &c., which will hasten the pro-
and prevent the clogging up of the
filter ; but as the supply of this mate-
rial is small, and can be obtained only
from certain districts, at some expense,
its general use has not been rendered
practicable. The patent stone of Messrs.
Ransome and Co., which can be manu-
factured with any amount of porosity,
according as it may be required; and
its incapability of being affected by
ordinary menstrua, afforded a means of
artificial filtration which happily sug-
gested itself to the inventor, and which
has been employed for that purpose
with the most satisfactory result. By
the use of plates of this substance and
layers of charcoal, and the adoption of
the principle of ascension, the most
complete separation of impurities,
whether in suspension or in chemical
solution, or of gaseous matters, the pro-
ducts of putrefaction, can readily be
effected.
It will be obvious that the first stratum
of materials through which water con-
taining much mechanical impurities
must be especially prone to become
clogged up, so that a uniform supply of
clear water must be difficult to obtain,
while the occasional removal of such
matters will be difficult without disturb-
ing the water which has been already
filtered through it. In the method of
filtration which is now most common,
that namely by ascension, this difficulty
is overcome.
Amongst the prominent filters of the
present day, as combining the above
requisitions, &c., we would notice those
of Messrs. Ransome and Co., hi which
these gentlemen have happily contrived
the most perfect medium for filtration
that has come under our notice, and
adapted in various forms, for all the re-
quirements of personal, domestic, or
manufacturing purposes. By the em-
ployment of discs or boxes of a pecu-
liarly fine yet porous stone, enveloping
a bed of animal charcoal, they secure
the most effective apparatus in an in-
credibly small .space, thus rendering
their filters exceedingly portable and
light, whilst at the same time, owing to
the perfect simplicity of construction,
the filtering medium can easily be re-
moved and renovated at pleasure.
These gentlemen have recognised the
importance of the principle of filtration
by ascension, and their filters and water-
purifiers are constructed so as to secure
this end, by means of which the
mechanical impurities separated from
the water subside at the bottom of a
chamber prepared for that purpose, in-
stead of being deposited in the heart of
the filter, as has hitherto been the case
in filters of the ordinary construction.
Our space will not allow of our de-
scribing more in detail the various forms
of filters manufactured by this firm ;
they are as numerous as the require-
ments of the public in this respect
and doubtless full information will be
readily furnished to any inquirer, either
at their manufactory, Ipswich, or at
their de*pot, Whitehall-wharf, Cannon-
row, Westminster.
DETECTING POISONS.
IN consequence of the numerous cases
of poisoning by vegetable poisons, which
are difficult or impossible of detection
by chemical means, Dr. Marshall Hall
proposes to apply a physiological test,
which consists of subjecting small
animals to the effects of a fluid in which
(probably) the poisoned organs, or those
suspected of being poisoned, have been
macerated. Dr. Hall says :
" I have just performed two experi-
ments, and only two, for want of mate-
rials for more.
" I requested Mr. Lloyd Bullock, of
Hanover-street, to dissolve one part of
the acetate of strychnia in one thousand
parts of distilled water, adding a drop
or two of acetic acid.
" I then took a frog, and having added
to one ounce of water 1-1 00th part of a
grain of the acetate of strychnia, placed
the frog in this dilute solution. No
effect having been produced, 1-1 00th of
a grain of the acetate was carefully
added. This having produced no effect,
in another hour l-100th of a grain of
EMPLOYERS AND SERVANTS.
the acetate was again added, making
the 3-100ths, or about the thirty-third
part of a grain. In a few minutes, the
frog became violently tetanic, and
though taken out and washed, died in
the course of the night.
" I thus detected, in the most indubit-
able manner, one thirty-third part of a
grain of the acetate of strychnia. It
appeared to me that, had more time
been given to the experiment, a much
minuter quantity would be detectible.
" I placed the second frog in one ounce
of distilled water, to which I had added
the l-200th part of a grain of the acetate
of strychnia. At the end of the first,
the second, and the third hours, other
similar additions were made, no symp-
toms of strychnism having appeared.
At the end of the fifth hour, the frog
having been exposed to the action of
l-50th part of a grain of the acetate of
strychnia, tetanus came on, and under
the same circumstances of removal and
washing, as in the former experiment,
proved fatal in its turn.
"I thus detected l-50th part of a grain
of the poisonous salt by phenomena too
vivid to admit of a moment's doubt,
the animal, on the slightest touch,
became seized with the most rigid
general spasmodic, or, rather, tetanoid
rigidity. And this phenomenon, alter-
nating with perfect relaxation, was
repeated again and again."
The subject is one of great interest
and importance, though we are inclined
to doubt the infallibility, and, therefore,
the, applicability of the test.
EMPLOYERS AND SERVANTS.
EVERY person is either an employer
or a servant, and many persons stand in
both these relations at the same time.
They hold offices, and employ persons
under them.
It is therefore of the utmost im-
portance that the laws relating to the
employment of labour should be dis-
tinctly made popular. And to this end
the following facts will materially con-
tribute :
Engagements of Servants. In the en-
gagements of domestic and menial
servants, it is generally understood that
the engagement may be determined by
either party giviug a month's warning,
or by the employer paying a month's
wages, he can enforce an immediate
dismissal.
Board Wages. -It is generally sup-
posed that servants thus dismissed can
claim for their board during the month.
But such is not the case. The services
dispensed with being considered an
equivalent for the board.
Agreements should be in Writing.
In engaging any description of servant,
wherein other terms than those which
are usual with persons of such avoca-
tion, are more convenient, the terms
which are desired to subsist between
the parties should be specified in
writing, or be capable of proofs by
witnesses.
Clerks and Superior Servants. The
rule of giving a month's warning, or a
month's wages, does not apply to persons
of these classes. Generally speaking an
engagement is understood to be for a
year, and to expire at the eud of a
current year. It Is probable that three
months' notice would be sufficient. But
the law is so undefined upon the sub-
ject that it is best to have all the con-
ditions specified in writing, and signed
by each party. Where an engagement
is for any period more than a twelve-
month, it becomes a contract, and must
be attested in writing, otherwise such
an agreement may, at any time, be de-
clared void.
Stamped Agreements. A stamp is not
required in agreements with menial
servants. But it would probably give
security and legal force to all agree-
ments if properly stamped.
Agreements should be explicit.
An agreement should clearly express
all the conditions entered into, speci-
fying the money, food, clothing, lodg-
ing, and other consideration. Some
such consideration, however small, is
requisite to bind the employed to the
employer ; an agreement to serve fot A
term of years, without consideration, in
order to learn a given art or business,
having been declared void The
smallest paymeot, or consideration,
WHAT IS WINE ?
will, however, render such an agreement
binding.
The Employer should be equally bound
with the Servant. A servant may agree
to serve, and be held to his agreement
for any term ; but if the employer has
not agreed to employ for the same
term, his compliance is not to be in-
ferred from the agreement for servitude
on the part of the employed. The em-
ployer may, therefore, release himself
by notice, as if no such agreement for a j
term existed.
It is, therefore, important for the
interests of the employed, that the em-
ployer should distinctly engage to j
employ for the period that the servant i
engages to serve.
Forfeits by Servants. A proper pro-
vision in an agreement is, that the em-
ployer shall be at liberty to stop out of
wages the value of things broken, or
destroyed, or lost, by the negligence of
the servant. Such deductions from
wages cannot be made without express
stipulation.
An employer may increase his power
over a servant by binding him to make
a forfeit, if he leaves his work or his
situation, without proper notice. And
the clause in such agreement must
authorise the employer to make deduc-
tion of such forfeit out of the wages,
otherwise he can only sue the servant
as for a debt in the County Court.
Liveries of Servants. A livery ser-
vant quitting a situation cannot claim
the livery, which ia the property of the
master, unless it has been agreed that
he may do so.
Agreements void by Consent. Agree-
ments may be put an end to with the
consent of both the parties at any
time, or a new agreement maybe entered
into and the subsisting one super-
seded.
Bankruptcy of Employer. -The bank-
ruptcy of an employer does not cancel
the engagement with a servant.
Terms, and Wages of Hiring. Ser-
vants are, in some instances, engaged
by the day or week, though, according
to the usage with such servants in par-
ticular districts, the " hiring" is under-
stood to be for a year, and the wages
are understood to be but the propor-
tions of a yearly salary.
Apprentices. There are special laws
for the regulation of agreements be-
tween masters and apprentices. They
are bound by their friends or guardians
with their own consent. A master
must fulfil the conditions of the inden-
tures. He must not fail to teach the
apprentice the trade which he under-
takes to instruct him in in the inden-
tures. He must not alter his trade,
nor put the apprentice to an occupation
which is not provided for in the inden-
tures. If he does, the apprentice may
refuse to serve. The magistrates have
power of jurisdiction in such cases.
In a future Interview we shall explain
other points of law affecting the em-
ployment of labour.
WHAT IS WINE ?
WINE, in our acceptation of the term,
is the fermented juice of fruit, or of
the grape in particular.
Has the word, then, any other mean-
ing?
Yes; in many countries the same
word is equally applied to the product
of distillation even to that obtained
from grain. In Russia, for instance,
corn-spirit is called cereal wine.
Is the same or an analogous word
used to designate wine in many
different languages ?
Yes ; in all the European languages,
or in all those which owe their original
construction to Europe, since the
Eoman empire.
What is the process by which grape
wine is obtained ?
That depends upon the kind of wine
sought ; upon the colour, and upon a
variety of incidental circumstances.
How do you make white wine ?
White wine is made by gathering the
fruit, whether white or black, tramp-
ling it out, or bruising it down to pulp
in some way or other,,and then imme-
diately subjecting this pulp to the
action of a press, or to be trodden
down and strained off in coarse bags.
The liquor so obtained is collected in
vats, in which it ferments actively for
WHAT IS WINK?
several weeks (from ten days to three
months), after which it fines itself
down, and becomes drinkable wine.
It is sometimes drawn off its lees into
other vats, sometimes not, according to
the local practice of the growers. In
districts in which the growers are very
particular as to the colour, flavour, &c.,
of the liquor, the fruit is carefully
sorted ; all unripe or rotten berries
being removed, and the wliit-
black grapes separated. But th<
exceptional precautions.
How do you maJcc red wine ?
The process of making red wine
differs, in general, from that employed
for white, only as regards the macera-
tion of the pulp (husks) of the fruit in
the liquor during fermentation, whereby
the colouring matter is dissolved into
the liquor, and conveys a hue, more or
less dark, according to the nature or
particular variety of the fruit. There
are a few varieties of black grapes, such
as the Teinturier, of which the in-
terior of the berry, or juice, holds a
certain portion of the colouring matter
naturally in solution at maturity : but
these are exceptions to the general rule.
The great majority of grapes, whether
white or black, have a pale greenish
juice, when ripe ; and this juice
assumes a more decidedly yellow hue,
as it undergoes fermentation. The
husks alone, of the generality of black
grapes, contain the beautiful purple or
crimson colour which is conveyed to
the liquor by the process just de-
scribed.
The result of fermentation is to
change a portion of the grape-juice into
alcohol; but what is the proportion
of this alcohol to the entire volume of
the fluid ?
This varies greatly, according to the
more or less saccharine nature of the
fruit (because, obviously, the more
sugar, the more spirit), the manipula-
tion, the temperature, and so on. It
is greater in white than in red wines,
generally, for two reasons -.first, that
the white grape is commonly more
sacchai-ine than the black ; and,
secondly, that the maceration of the
husks during fermentation take^ up a
considerable portion of the sugar,
which would otherwise enrich the
The greatest proportion of alcohol
with which I an nit, and I
believe the greatest that can be
obtained without artificial or excep-
tional interference, is sixteen per cent. ;
the average of white wines in Southern
Europe is not above thirteen per cent.
The least proportion that I have
detected has been five per cent. : this
was, no doubt, a somewhat diluted liquor.
You say the greatest proportion is
sixteen per cent. ; do you speak of new
or of old wine?
I speak of new wine, of course that
is, of the result of primary fermenta-
tion; because there is a slow and
secondary fermentation, which gradually
eliminates more spirit in variable pro-
portions.
What is vinegar, and how is it
formed ?
Vinegar is simply a soured fermented
liquor. The presence of other com-
ponents besides those of alcohol and
water is indispensable to its formation.
Hence it arises in wine during secon-
dary fermentation, from the excessive
activity of the ferment upon the resi-
duary sugar, which deranges the
balances in the existing combination.
How is the elimination of this pro-
duct to be avoided ?
In strong spirituous wines no precau-
tion is necessary, because the abun-
dance of alcohol resists the agency of
the ferment. It may therefore be
averted by the artificial addition of
spirit to the liquor, immediately after
the subsidence of the primary fermen-
tation. But this is a spurious method.
It can also be averted by preserving the
liquor in perfect quiescence (inasmuch
as motion disturbs the precipitated fer-
ment), at an uniform temperature of
between 60 and 70. Are not the red
wines in our market the most spirituous
of all ?
Yes, certainly ; but I speak of natural
wines only. The red wines to which you
allude are wholly artificial. Port wine
is rarely found to contain less than
twenty-two per cent, of alcohol, as we
WHAT IS \VrNE?
51
import it ; but before it is made up
with brandy, it does not contain more
than nine or ten per cent. In the strict
interpretation of the Treasury Letter
of June 28, 1853, which limits the
strength of wine (as such) to thirty-
three per cent, of proof spirit, hardly
any port wine could be cleared except
as sweetened spirit (at 20s., instead of
5s. 9d. per gallon) ; because wines
which contain from twenty-four to
twenty -six percent, of alcohol are clearly
above the prescribed strength of thirty-
three percent, of proof spirit.
Do you draw any particular inference
from this comparison between white and
red wines ?
Yes, indeed. I infer that for curative
or dietetic purposes, the red wines I
mean, of course, good sound red wines,
like Roussillon are to be preferred to
white. The stimulating virtues of the
red wine are more genial and gentle,
those of the white, generally speaking,
more irritating. There are, doubtless,
particular idiosyncrasies which serve as
exceptions, and the white wines might
accordingly be found to agree better
with particular individuals than the
red (supposing both to be equally pure).
But there are quaint idiosyncrasies of
this kind respecting the effect of all
articles of food and all drugs; and
these, of course, it is the medical man's
province to detect. I only speak of
generalities.
Referring again to the condition tff
wine, which do you consider to be the
more wholesome, new or old wine ?
To a person in sound health un-
doubtedly old wine, because the new
wine contains the materials for gene-
rating acidity, and the old wine would
not be too stimulating. To an
invalid, neither very new nor very old
wine ; because the former would be
apt to operate as just described, and
the latter would have become by so
much more irritating as it had become
less nourishing. For convalescents'
drinking that is, as a roborant
I should prefer to recommend a sound
wine about four years old.
What do you consider the highest
attribute of a pure wine ?
Its natural fragrance and after-taste.
I say natural, emphatically, because
artificial means are employed to convey
the peculiar aroma which characterises
first-class wines (especially in the
northern and central regions) to
liquors of coarse and inferior quality.
What am I to understand by your
remark, as regards the "northern
and central regions in particular ?"
Is it that you adopt a definite and
quasi geographical rule in your classi-
fication ?
Approximately so. I consider the
European wine belt, including the
Mediterranean Islands, to extend from
the 35th to the 50th or 51st parallel of
north latitude ; and that the most per-
fect wine, in all respects, is to be found,
as a general rule, between the 41st and
the 47th parallels. The most northerly
region, such as that of the Rheingau,
produces the climax of fragrance, and
the most southerly the climax of sac-
charine.
Can you describe such a wine to
me?
It is fragrant, dry, clean, bright,
fruity, and generous; and it leaves a
pleasant after-taste, which no imper-
fectly fermented or loaded wine ever
does. The flavour is smart and racy ;
but never at all sweet. Sweetness can
only be detected in imperfect or loaded
wines ; and these all require manipula-
tion with spirit to restrain a destruc-
tive secondary fermentation.
A perfect wine will preserve itself ;
it is constitutionally enduring, and con-
tinues for many years to acquire deli-
cacy, as it slowly elaborates its insensible
fermentation.
None of the luscious or fiery liquors
are properly called wines, in our sense
of the term : they are compounds.
However great might have been the
natural capacity of the must to be con-
verted into fine wine, all its excellence
is submerged by the preponderance of
undecomposed saccharine which it has
been forced to retain in solution, and
by the spirit with which it has been
drenched to narcotise the rebellious
ferment. It can never afterwards be-
come either fragrant or clean, like a
THE HISTORY OF KEYS.
pure wine; and even its colour will
\mdergo changes which do not occur in
liquors that have been carefully carried
through the natural processes of fer-
mentation. Thus the more tan i
see a wine become with age tho more I
suspect it. Foster and Ingle, London.
HISTORY OF KEYS.
AT a recent meeting of the British
Archaeological Association, Mr. H. Syer
Cuming read a paper on the History of
Keys. He pointed to a strip of bark
and a thong of leather, as the first means
by which property was secured, prior
to the advanced stage of social refine-
ment when permanent houses were
constructed, and the door and the coffee
fastened with bolts, latches, and bars.
Homer was cited as the earliest writer
who mentions anything like a key, and
special reference was made to the primi-
tive locks and keys of wood of the
ancient and modern Egyptians. The
iron keys of Egypt were described, and
illustrated by examples from Thebes,
and the curious fact pointed out that
nearly similar specimens are met with
in Western Africa. After a brief notice
of Greek keys, attention was directed to
the Komaii era, and a minute descrip-
tion given of the fixed and moveable
locks, the dentated, piped, and broached
keys, and of the variously-formed bows
surmounting the stems. Mention was
made of the small keys attached to
finger-rings, and of the clavis adultera,
the false or skeleton key of the Roman
housebreaker. The Anglo-Saxon and
Norman keys were then dwelt upon,
and the various forms and fashions of
the key-bows from the thirteenth
century down to a later period were
described. The superstitious belief in
the magical powers of the key, of its
employment as a heraldic bearing, and
its frequent adoption as a sign in former
times, were next alluded to ; and Mr.
Cuming concluded his paper (which was
profusely illustrated with examples of
keys of all ages, from the days of the
Egyptians to those of George IV. as
shown in the key of the late Charlton
House) by enumerating the different
modes by which keys have been held
together, showing that a rini; w is among
the earliest as well as latest contrivances
for the purpose. It was remarked, that
two objects were frequently found ap-
pended to the keys of the doors of
stables and cow-houses, namely, a per-
forated flint and a horn ; the former of
which was declared to be an amulet to
guard the creatures from the attacks of
nightmare, and the latter, an emblem
of the good Pan, the protector of cattle,
and hence regarded as a charm, and both
of which have been used from the most
remote antiquity.
DEATH WARRANTS. It having been
incidentally announced in the Hants
Independent with reference to the con-
vict Abraham Baker, that " the usual
death-warrant signed by the Crown had
not yet been issued," allow me to pre-
vent, as far as possible, error in the
minds of such of your readers as are not
acquainted with legal formalities, by
mentioning that (except in the case of
a peer of the realm) there is no such
thing as a death-warrant ever signed by
the Crown or by any one or more of
the officers of the Crown, the only au-
thority for the execution of a criminal
convicted of a capital crime being the
verbal sentence pronounced upon him
in open court, which sentence the
Sheriff is bound to take cognisance of
and execute without any further au-
thority. It is true that a written
calendar of the offences and punish-
ments of the prisoners is made out
and signed by the Judge, of which a
copy is delivered to the Sheriff; but
this is only a memorandum and not an
official document, and it is optional
with the Judge to sign it or not. I
should not venture to occupy any por-
tion of your valuable space upon this
matter, but I am well aware that it is
a subject upon which very great and
general misapprehension exists. I re-
main, sir, your obedient servant, LEX.
J )r. SCORESBY is going to Australia in
the Royal Charter, with an express view
to make experiments relative to tho
variation of the compass in iron ships
in the southern hemisphere.
POETRY.
53
THE DWINA.*
A RUSSIAN BALLAD.
STONY-browed Dwina, thy face is as flint,
Horsemen and waggons cross, scoring no dint,
Cossacks patrol thee and leave thee as hard,
Camp-fires but blacken and spot thee like
pard,
For the dead silent river lies rigid and still.
Down on thy sedgy banks picquet the troops,
Scaring the night-wolves with carols and
whoops,
Crackle their faggots of drift-wood and hay,
And the steam of their pots fills the nostril of
day,
But the dead silent river lies rigid and still.
Sledges pass sliding from hamlet to town,
Lovers and comrades, and none doth he
drown,
Harness-bells tinkling in musical glee,
For to none comes the sorrow that came unto
me,
And the dead silent river lies rigid and still.
I go to the Dwina, I stand on his wave,
Where Ivan, my dead, has no grass on his
grave,
Stronger than granite that coffins a Czar,
Solid as pavement, and polished as spar,
Where the dead silent river lies rigid and
still
Stronger than granite ? nay, falser than sand!
Fatal the clasp of thy slippery hand,
Cruel as vulture's the clutch of thy claws,
Who shall redeem from the merciless jaws
Of the dead silent river so rigid and still ?
Crisp lay the new-fallen snow on thy breast,
Trembled the white moon through haze in
the west,
Far in the thicket the wolf-cub was howling,
Down by the sheep-cotes the wolf-dam was
prowling,
And the dead silent river lay rigid and still,
When Ivan my lover, my husband, my lord,
Lightly and cheerily stepped on the sward,
Light with his hopes of the morrow and me,
That the reeds on the margin leaned after
to see,
But the dead silent river lay rigid and still.
O'er the fi-esh snow-fall, the winter- long frost,
O'er the broad Dwina the fin-ester crost,
Snares at his girdle, and gun at his side,
Gamebag weighed heavy with gifts for his
bride,
And the dead silent river lay rigid and still.
* From Poems of Ten Years, by Mrs. D. Ogilvy.
Rigid and silent, and crouching for prey,
Crouching for him who went singing his way,
Oxen were stabled, and sheep were in fold,
But Ivan was struggling in torrents ice-cold,
'Neath the dead silent river so rigid and
still.
Home he came never, we searched by the ford,
Small was the fissure that swallowed my lord,
Glassy ice-sheeting had frozen above
A crystalline cover to seal up my love
In the dead silent river so rigid and still.
Still by the Dwina my home-torches burn,
Faithful I watch for my bridegroom's return,
When the moon sparkles on hoarfrost and
tree
I see my love crossing the Dwina to me
O'er the dead silent river so rigid and still.
Always approaching, he never arrives,
Howls the north-east wind, the dusty-snow
drives,
Snapping like touchwood I hear the ice crack,
And my lover is drowned in the water-hole
black,
'Neath the dead silent river so rigid and
still.
THE OLD LOVE.*
THE roving seasons come and go,
In each, like flowers, fresh passions blow,
They bud, they blossom, they decay,
And from my heart's soil pass away,
But still the old love dieth not.
Soft, pensive, tender, warm and gay,
But transient as an April day,
Each in its short but potent reign,
Sweeps like a flood through heart and brain,
But that old love it quencheth not.
Listen, ye breezes, ye who dance
O'er the blue waves to sunny France,
I have a message ye must bear
To a sweet maid who dwelleth there,
Tell her the old love dieth not.
HAPPINESS.
IF solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies,
And they are fools who roam.
The world hath nothing to bestow
From our own selves our bliss must flow,
And that dear hut our home.
* From The Maid of Messene and other Poems,
by E. H. Pember.
DISINFECTANTS.
DISINFECTA:.
AN INTERVIEW WITH DR. MUSPRATT.
DR. MUSPRATT, with whom we have
the honour of a personal acquaintance,
Is editing a most elaborate work upon
.iiistrtj, as applied to Art a <(inl
Mann/act ID-fa." In the second volume
of this work he gives an instructive
chapter upon Disinfectants, which he
says are, " Properly speaking, such as
remove the causes of infection ; but, as
the French signification has been adopt-
ed in England, the removal of any in-
jurious taint is also understood." This
subject being of extreme importance to
the welfare of families, we will accept
with gratitude from Dr. Muspratt those
facts which have a practical application.
Washing with pure water, to remove
ull putrescent or putrescible matters,
has always been, and must continue to
be, the most important disinfectant
whenever it can be applied. It has
generally been found that the soil is a
very valuable disinfectant, decomposing
animal matter with great rapidity, and
sending out gases which are, on the
whole, innocuous, unless sufficient space
has not been allowed for the remains.
Efficacious as the soil is for the disinfec-
tion of bodies buried in it, it has been
found in large towns that the amount
of soil covering the dead has been in-
sufficient : most nations, therefore, have
interred their dead in the suburbs and
less populous localities.
A process of purification after the
burial of a person was, among the an-
cients, nearly universal : sometimes it
resolved itself into a mere religious
custom, but this had evidently arisen
out of a distinct act of cleansing. Among
the Romans, certain days were set apart
for the ceremonial cleansing of the fa-
mily, and the house was swept out by
an officer appointed for the purpose.
Embalming has sometimes been re-
sorted to in Europe from the very ear-
liest times, and with great success. The
remains of the French kings disinterred
at St. Denis by the revolutionists, pre-
served their countenances, it i
perfectly when first uncovered ; but
immediately yielded when exposed to
the air. Sometimes the preservation
is effected by the mere action of cur-
rents of air. This may be readily be-
lieved of a warm climate, but the same
result occurs at Bonn, in the vault of a
chapel, where the bodies of the buried
monks are dried up or shrivelled, but
not decomposed. No means, whatever,
it is said are used to obtain this result,
further than placing an open coffin con-
taining the body in a dry repository
where the wind is continually blowing.
Infection arises from decomposing
matter, which, coming in contact with
that which is healthy or sound, induces
a continuation of the decay. It is in
this wide sense that the word is used
when disinfection is spoken of. Matter
may be thrown into this state in various
ways and situations. Vegetable and
animal substances decay spontaneously,
even if left to themselves, without the
interference of any body in a state of
decay. No infection is known without
the presence of such putrefying agent.
The origin and history of all plagues
and infectious diseases point to this sa-
tisfactorily. N"o cheincial re-agents,
properly so called, have been known
to give rise to contagion. Gases
are known which destroy health, and
by producing decomposition may cause
such decay to proceed in the system
that the exhalations may engender
infection ; but even in this case it is
produced by the organic substances,
though the distinct and direct injury
is effected by the chemical agency.
What, then, are the sources from which
disease may arise ?
Here Dr. Muspratt enumerates cer-
tain causes which do not relate to those
matters to which, alone, we think it
needful to direct the attention of our
readers. We therefore pa.ss ou I
remark that
When a country is badly dr. Lined, and
there is no outlet for the products of the
decomposition of plants but the air, it
often happens that disea.se spreads rapid-
ly. If the land be properly drained, these
emanations, passing through the soil, be-
come disinfected, and a comparatively
healthy atmosphere results. Marshes in
allageshavebeen unwholesome; but they
DISINFECTANTS.
55
are so in proportion to the temperature
and the state of vegetation. A damp
climate and a moist soil, such as those
of Holland, do not produce disease in
an equal degree, with a similar condi-
tion in the tropics, where the decay is
more accelerated. Still, even in Holland,
those who live in the immediate neigh-
bourhood of that part of the country,
which is adjacent on one side to the sea,
and on the other to fields below its
level, are far inferior in appearance to
those who live where the land is ele-
vated only a foot above the ocean's
surface.
Diseases sometimes seem to arise from
a greater expanse of sea than above
alluded to, at least when connected
with one or more great rivers. A reddish
vapour was seen by the inhabitants of
the surrounding country, to their great
alarm, to arise out of the Yellow Sea :
after floating about, it dispersed itself
over the land, and produced, or at least,
it was followed by that most dreadful
outbreak of cholera, which afterwards
passed over all Asia, ultimately coming
to Europe. Means of cure are not
readily found for such cases, but re-
course must be had to energetic disin-
fectants.
Ponds, and such collections of water
as are too shallow to prevent rapid de-
composition, and which allow the sun's
rays to enter so as to encourage the
growth of plants at the bottom, become
fertile sources of disease. They can
only be disinfected entirely by the de-
struction of the vegetation, generally
accomplished by complete drainage.
Masses of matter in a state of decom-
position around a dwelling may easily
become centres of contagion ; and the
best method of dealing with these is to
remove them immediately ; but if in a
dangerous condition, to disinfect them
previously, as the removal abundantly
spreads the noxious vapours and gases.
A still atmosphere favours the spread
of infection, as a whole district or coun-
try may become like a closed vessel,
rapidly filling up with impure matters,
and pestilence being generated. Hurri-
canes, it is well known, have a powerful
tendency to stop the progress of disease.
Before the plague of London an unusual
calm occurred.
Sudden changes in temperature are
likewise injurious, affecting the healthy
condition of animals and vegetable g
causing decomposition, and occasionally
infection. The peculiar condition Of
the air, called blight, is a state of thi s
kind, but is imperfectly understood
Great natural phenomena in any way
interfering with organic life, may acce-
lerate various maladies. Rain has some-
times been so continuous as to cause a
whole district to become corrupted,
destroying vegetation, and not only-
starving, but infecting man with offen-
sive emanations. So also great swarms
of insects, locusts, and caterpillars, for
example ; better known in history than
by the experience of the present days
droughts and pestilential heats, are simi-
larly destructive of animal and vegetable
life. These causes of infection have been
recounted, that a distinct view of the
opposite, or disinfection, may be taken.
Vapours arise in all these cases men-
tioned, and pervade the atmosphere-
That organic matter has been found in
the air has been sufficiently proved by
Ehrenberg, who ascertained the pre-
sence of animalcules ; by Vogel and
Dr. Southwood Smith, and more re-
cently by Dr. Angus Smith, who ob-
tained it in the moisture condensed from
the breath in crowded rooms. A state
of the atmosphere in which organic
matter does not exist, can scarcely be
imagined ; even when it comes from
healthy bodies it is found to be injurious
if allowed to collect; but when ema-
nating from unhealthy constitutions, ifc
must communicate disease more readily.
Its first action is in the nasal organ,
when nature generally gives notice of
contiguous evil ; but when persons are
accustomed to living in impure air,
habit causes them to be insensible to its
effects. It must next enter the lungs,
where the blood absorbs it ; distemper
is thereby communicated to the most
vital parts in a direct manner.
The subject is of so vast importance,
and Dr. Muspratt's communications
upon it are so lucid and useful, that we
will seek another Intewiew with him.
RARETIES AND RELISHES FOR THE TABLE.
UAKETIES AND RELISHES FOR
THE TABLE.
DOMESTIC discoveries are constantly
being made ; and though, too frequently,
useful hints die away after serving the
purpose of a Newspaper paragraph, we
think that among the readers of the
Interview there are many persona who
will not let practical suggestions slip. We
therefore bring together, as peculiarly
adapted to the present season, the fol-
lowing useful suggestions for easily
supplying the table with rareties. We
commence with a paragraph, extracted
from the Gardener's Chronicle, giving
instructions
How TO GET GREEN PEA SOUP IN
WINTER. "We shall have visitors
early in February, and must have green
pea soup once or twice at least. Tell the
gardener to provide a supply of young
peas." Such was the order given one
Christmas-day to the cook in a great
household, and duly communicated by
the culinary to the horticultural de-
partment. "Fresh green peas in a
month, in the middle of winter ! the
thing's impossible," cried the astonished
gardener. " My lord can't have given
such an order ; we haven't a house or a
light to grow them in and if \ve had
." ".We must have them for all
that," was the curt rejoinder; and the
gardener was left to discover the quo
modo. In his despair the worthy man
bethought himself that young peas and
young pea leaves tasted much alike,
and that, perhaps, the one might be as
good for soup as the other. So he
took some shallow pans, planted them
pretty thickly with dwarf Spanish
peas, put them in his early vinery on a
shelf where he sometimes grew straw-
berries, and where a good heat was
kept up. The peas soon began to
grow ; they had air as much as it was
possible to give it them, and by the
beginning of February were six inches
high, well furnished with healthy tender
green leaves and stems. The supply
thus obtained was cut like mustard and
cress, and handed over to the cook, who
declared that it made better puree than
if he had had green peas themselves.
And from that time forward peas were
forced at as regularly as French
beans ; and all lovers of good living
wondered how Lord continued to
have such capital puree of green peas
whenever they visited him in the
winter.
To this we will add the following
from our own note-book :
HOW TO OBTAIN CRESS ALL THE YEAR
HOUND. This may be done in a manner
to supply both a salad and an ornament
for the table. Take bottles, baskets,
plates, dishes, or any other articles,
and cover them with flannel, old pieces
of baize, cloth, or other absorbent
material. The cloth should be cut
out, and sewn so as to form a perfect
shape for the article to be covered.
Saturate the cloth with water after the
covering is complete, and then sprinkle
thereon mustard seed, or pepper seed,
so as equally to pervade the surface,
not too thick, n or too scanty. In a little
while the gluten of the seed will
become softened, and fix the seed
firmly to the cloth. Place it in a dark
and moderately warm place, and
moisten it occasionally. When the
seeds begin to germinate, bring them
to the light, and as their strength
increases, expose them as opportunity
may occur, to the sun. You will soon
have cress from an inch to two inches
long, growing in an ornamental shape,
which may be set upon the table, and
the cress cut from it as wanted. This
may be done at any season of the year.
To OBTAIN MUSHROOMS ALL THE YEAR
ROUND. Instructions for the formation
of artificial mushroom beds, by which
button mushrooms may be obtained all
through the year, are given in Enquire
Within (2151).
To OBTAIN SEA KALE IN THE WIN-
TER. Early in November cover the
surface of the bed, including the drills
and the intervening spaces with stable
litter, to the depth of two and a half
feet. The plants will be matured by
Christmas, and will yield abundantly
in January. This vegetable is easily
and cheaply forced, and blanched in
STATISTICS OF RAILWAYS.
57
any dark, warm cupboard or cellar.
Supplies of shoots may be obtained
for three months successively in this
way. They may be planted in old
boxes, baskets, mawns, &c., and will
yield abundantly.
HOW TO MAKE USE OF ENDIVE. It is
strange that Endive with us is only
known as a salad, dressed green with
oil and vinegar, and yet how excellent
a vegetable it forms those who have
visited the Paris restaurants must well
know. It is cooked on the Continent,
the bitterness removed, and an ex-
cellent dish produced in the following
manner : Chop up Endive or Spinach
very fine (cooks say for ten minutes) ;
toil it first, then put it into cold water ;
then drain the water off, and squeeze
it out till quite dry. Take a good
tablespoonful of flour, and a piece of
butter about the size of a walnut ; mix
them well near the fire, and boil them
in a pipkin. Put this mixture with the
vegetable, and about a teacupful of
water, for fear of burning ; add a little
salt and pepper, and boil till done.
Endive is the most universally popular
dish in the country, and a most savoury
morsel. The best method of preparing
it is as follows : Take two good En-
dives, not blanched, separate the leaves,
and boil them in two waters (to extract
the bitter). If still bitter use a third
water, but ten minutes before they are
ready throw in a handful of sorrel
leaves. When ready take them out
and strain them, and put them back in
the saucepan with a piece of butter the
size of a walnut, pepper and salt, and a
table-spoonful of any rich gravy.
Shake them well over the fire till all
is incorporated, and send them iu hot.
On no account chop the leaves.
AN EXCELLENT SPRING VEGETABLE
TO BE HAD FOR THE GATHERING.
Young nettles supply an excellent
vegetable for the table, boiled and
eaten as greens. They grow abun-
dantly, and are pronounced as not only
highly relishable, but very healthful.
Having given these hints, we shall be
happy to receive suggestions of a
similar nature.
STATISTICS OF RAILWAYS.
BY R. STEPHENSON, ESQ., M.P.
MORE rails are laid down than are
enough to form a belt of single iron
rail round the globe !
The extent of railways now (1856)
completed in Great Britain and Ireland
is 8,054 miles.
These lines have cost 286,000,000.
Thare are more than fifty miles of
tunnel.
There are eleven miles of viaduct in
the neighbourhood of London.
The earth- works of the railways mea-
sure 550,000,000 cubic yards.
The earth thereof would form a pyra-
mid a mile and a half in height, with a
base larger than St. James' Park.
Eighty millions of miles are run in
the course of a year by the trains.
There are 5,000 railway engines, and
150,000 working vehicles.
The engines in a line would extend
from London to Chatham. The vehicles
from London to Aberdeen.
The various companies employ 90,000
officers and servants.
The engines consume annually
2,000,000 tons of coal.
In every minute of time, four tons
of coal convert into steam 20 tons of
water.
In 1854, 111,000,000 of passengers
were conveyed upon railways ; each of
whom travelled an average of eleven
miles.
The receipts of the railways in 1854
amounted to 20,215,000.
The receipts of every railway have-
continued to increase.
20,000 tons of iron require to be re-
placed annually, on account of " wear
and tear."
26,000,000 of wooden sleepers re-
quire to be replaced yearly.
300,000 trees are annually felled to
make good the decay of the sleepers.
300,000 trees require for their gr
5,000 acres of forest land.
Trains carry upon an average 200
passengers.
The cost of running a train is under
Is. 3d. per mile.
58
THE EYES, AND HOW TO TAKE CARE OF THEM.
500 passengers at of a penny per
mile, produces 5a. 2sd. per i
But for the facilities afforded by r;)il-
\vays, the penny postage scheme could
not have been carried out.
70,000,000 of money have been paid
to landowners and others, as compen-
sation for property interfered with by
the lines.
The Electric Telegraph extends over
,200 miles, requiring 36,000 miles of
wires.
3,000 persons are employed by the
electric telegraph.
90,000 men are employed directly
upon the railways.
40,000 men are employed indirectly.
1 in 50 of the entire population of
the kingdom are dependent upon rail-
ways.
The annual receipts of railways have
reached 20,000,000, which is nearly
half the amount of the ordinary re-
venue of the State.
The saving of a farthing a mile in the
expense of running the trains, would
make a difference of 80,000 a-year to
the railway companies.
THE EYES, AND HOW TO TAKE
CARE OF THEM.
WHEN the eye is in a perfectly healthy
condition, we ought to be extremely
careful not to tamper with it so as to
derange any of its functions; for in-
stance, it is highly injurious for us to
pass suddenly from the dark to the full
blaze of a lighted room, or still worse
into that of open daylight. In some
extreme cases blindness has been the
result of such an act.
In viewing an object we should take
care that as much of it as possible is in
focus at once, but we must not fall into
the error of straining the eye to give us
the perfect picture, otherwise injury
will result.
Very great benefit will arise from the
use of the power of concentration of
sight : thus we ought to endeavour to
see only one part of an object at a time,
and to gradually complete the survey of
its different parts, in order to get the
correct idea of it; for if we look too
Uy at objects, we shall find that
re none of thorn properly in focus,
and a confusion of ideas is the con-
sequence.
It is injurious to the sight to be con-
tinually using the eye for one distance
of objects only, as from want of use the
eye loses that ready adjustment so es-
sential to the perfect appreciation of
objects seen at different /.part :
thus we should never look too steadfastly
nor for too long a period at the charac-
ters of a book, but from time totime look
off at objects at a greater distance ; this
plan not only secures the use of the ad-
justing powers of the eye, but relieves
the retina from the great strain it has
undergone by the too violent contrast in
the image formed on it, namely, black
and white.
A^ r e should avoid as much possible
viewing objects with one eye only, but
on the contrary endeavour to direct both
eyes on them, in order that we may
form more correct idea of their size and
distance ; for by the use of one eye we
can appreciate neither size, solidity, nor
distance, in a complete and satisfactory
manner.
In reading of an evening by an arti-
ficial light, we should be very particular
in the position of the candle with re-
spect to the book, so as to prevent as
much as possible the direct light from
entering the pupil. The best means of
accomplishing this end is, to have the
lamp or source of light so placed that it
may shine over the shoulder on to the
paper or book we are perusing, for it
will readily be seen that by this ar-
rangement the eye receives no more
light than that proceeding immediately
from the page before it.
These matters may appear very trivial
to those whose sight is not yet impaired,
but constant attention to them will
ensure the enjoyment of that great
blessing, perfect sight, for many years
beyond the usual limit.
Imperfect sight may be defined as
that state of vision in which objects are
not easily discerned with distinctness in
ordinary light and at the usual distances;
thus both long and short sight may be
considered as diseases of the eye, for
THE EYES, AND HOW TO TAKE CARE OF THEM.
those who are short-sighted see things '
distinctly which are close to them, j
while objects that .are more distant are I
confused and appear indistinct : on the
contraiy, the long-sighted see distant
object with perfect clearness, and close
ones with difficulty and confusion of
outline.
The first symptom of the change in
the eye inducing long sight is, that we
are obliged to remove every object to a
greater distance from the eye before we
can see it distinctly. Thus in perusing
a newspaper, or any small print, we are
sometimes obliged to hold it nearly at
arms' length before distinct vision is
produced ; whereas in healthy vision we
should have been able to bring about
the same result at a distance of twelve
inches from the eye. Although we may
see the type quite clearly under these cir- i
cumstances, it is a system that is highly '
detrimental to the eyesight, and should
on no account be persevered in, as it will
ultimately increase the failure of the
eye, and oblige the optician to use much
stronger glasses before a remedy can be
applied than if assistance had been
sought at an earlier stage of the dis-
order; whereas it not unfrequently
happens, that those who take to spectacles
in time are after a while enabled to lay
them aside and to see objects with the
unassisted eye as clearly as before their
use.
Another sign of the decline of sight
is when we are obliged to hold the
candle between the book or paper and
the eye before perfect distinctness can
be attained ; this causes a contraction, of
the pupil necessary to our perfect ap-
preciation of objects. Now nothing can
be more injurious to the sight than this
habit, for the strain thrown on the eye
by so much light in such close proximity :
will eventually dull the perception of
the visual organs.
Immediately an individual discovers
that the above applies to his own sight,
he should without delay seek the assist-
ance of glasses, and if care be taken in
the selection, he will be entirely relieved
from the inconvenience. Many persons
find from the above defect that it is
more difficult to read at night than in
the daytime ; such persons ought to be
provided with two pairs of spectacles,
the one to be used by candle light, being
rather stronger in power than that in
use in the daytime.
One unmistakeable indication that we
require spectacles is, that on reading a
book or newspaper the letters appear
after a short time confused, and run into
the other, appearing double and treble,
and convey the idea of the eye having a
veil or mist before it. The eyes from
this cause become so fatigued, that it is
found necessary to be continually
closing the lids, and to relieve them by
looking frequently at different objects,
or by stimulating them by friction. If
we neglect the means we have at our
disposal to correct this distressing state
of vision, we shall assuredly suffer for
it at no very distant period, and
eventually be obliged to use glasses of a
much greaterpower than if we had taken
to them in time, to the permanent
injury of the sight, and in some in-
stances to its partial loss.
WHAT'S IN A NAME? Hotels and
public houses have a phraseology of
their own. On an inquest some years
since on the body of a gentleman who
died suddenly at a London hotel, one
of the witnesses, Mr. Booth, deposed that
the chambermaid desired him to run
for a doctor, as, Number Four was in a
Fit! At one of the suburban Tea
Gardens, a waiter laden with a tray
containing tea and muffins for twelve,
who observed a bolt before the bill was
paid, roared out to his brother atten-
dant : " Run, run, Bob ! there's two
teas and a glass of brandy and water
escaping over the palings catch 'em !"
THE PERPETUAL COMEDY. The
world is the stage, men are the per-
formers. Chance composes the piece;
Fortune distributes the parts. The
Fool shifts the scenery ; the Philoso-
phers are the spectators. The Rich
occupy the boxes, the* powerful have a
seat in the pit, and the poor sit in the
gallery. The fair present the refresh-
ments, the tyrants occupy the treasury
bench, and those who are forsaken by
lady Fortune snuff the candles.
60
LEISURE MOMENTS.
CURIOUS EXTRACTS
YESTERDAY. December 13,
THE Proprietors of the
a woman stood on the pillory
Royal Bagno, at the earliest
(From "King Charles's Nncs-
at the end of Catherine-street,
request of several persons of
paper," noticed at j>. 26.)
for keeping a disorderly house
quality, have thought fit to
To ALL MOUNTEBANKS, TRA-
VELLING COMPANIES, INN-
in that neighbourhood. 1759.
THERE is a report that three
appoint that Saturday in every
week be set apart for the ac-
KEEPERS, &c. Whereas on
Sunday, July 4, 1790, Samuel
Kcll, my apprentice, did ab-
sent himself from my business
without my leave or know-
Suns were lately seen about
Richmond in Surrey, by divers
credible persons, of which
different observations are
made according to the fancy
commodation of Women only;
whereof all gentlemen and
others are desired to take
notice; forasmuch as no en-
tertainment will In- allowed
ledge, and has not since been
heard of, this is to caution all
pereons not to keep or har-
bour him after this publick
notice, as I shall in such case
of the people.
IT is reported that a Quaker
fell in love with a lady of very
great quality, and hath extra-
ordinarily petitioned to obtain
her for his wife.
them on that day. Nov. 1680.
WHEREAS some time since,
at the desire of several ladies
and persons of quality, Satur-
day was allotted them to sweat
prosecute any person or per-
STOLEN, the 29th of Sep-
and wash in ths Royal Bagno
sons with whom he may be
tember, out of Mr. Fletcher's
(all gentlemen exclusive).
found. Samuel Bell is about
five feet five inches, dark com-
backhouse in the Strand, five
small Pictures of about a foot
Now, at their further desires,
it is thought convenient by the
plexion, black hair, which he
wears tied ; had on, when he
went away, a blue coat, black
breeches, and half boots ; is
about nineteen years of age, a
and a-half square, viz., one by
Mr. Philip Thoverman, being
a robbery, with a pybal-horse,
and a man dragging along
murdered, with others. An-
Proprietors thereof, to add
(for their Services) another
day, which is Wednesday,
commencing the 23 of this
instant March. All persons
very good tumbler, and can
throw a great number of flip-
flaps, &c. ; plays the clarinet
and takes snuff. N.B. Who-
ever will give notice of him to
me, Mr. P Astley, at the Royal
Grove, Westminster Bridge,
HO as he may be secured, shall
be rewarded for their trouble.
other of Mr. Eyckhout, with
four figures, whereof two are
playing at cards. One of Mr.
Vanderneers, being a Moon-
shine. And two of Mr. John
Wyckes, being two seasons of
the year, autumn and mid-
summer ; all in carved gilded
frames. Whoever shall bring
being desirous to take notice
thereof, and order their
affairs accordingly. 1681.
ALL gentlemen and others
whose Sirnamesare Abraham,
are desired to meet at the
Pump in Wallbrook on Wed-
nesday, the 14th day of No-
vember, the hours of meeting
A FEW days since, the Rev.
news of them to the said Mr.
are from three till seven of
John Wesley was married to
William Fletcher, shall be re-
the clock, where you will
Mrs. Vazel, of Threadneedle-
warded for their pains. 1679.
meet some of the same name,
street, an agreeable widow
WHEREAS the Proprietors of
who are desirous to constitute
lady with a large fortune.
the Royal Bagno, are sensible
a friendly meeting there. And
Feb., 1751.
that their servants who attend
so to continue on every 2d
SATURDAY died Mrs. Wilks,
widow, mistress of the Cock
Inn in Aldersgate - street,
judged to be one of the biggest
women in England. January,
1762.
gentlemen, both Rubbers and
Barbers, have been very
troublesome, by demanding of
gentlemen a reward for their
attendance ; this is to give
notice, that the servants are
under a certain salary to their
Wednesday in each month
between the hours appointed.
1705.
SEVERAL journeymen bakers
of this city having refused to
bake on Sundays, licences
have been granted to forty
A FAT young black, about
eighteen years of age, with a
own demands, and that 5s. 6d.
is the whole charge ; and that
non-freemen, and many more
will soon be allow'd the same
scar in his cheek, a little bow
legg'd, be wants a toe in his
if any servant shall ask, or
make any complaints that they
privileges. Feb., 1 7
left foot, with a grey livery,
are not sufficiently paid for
THE gentleman who was so
lined with green searge, a
their pains; upon any gentle-
ridiculed for had
green pair of stockings, and a
man's notice thereof to the
horsemanship, under the title
grey hat. Whoever gives
Clerk of the said Bagno, such
of Johnny Gilpin, died a few
notice of him, at the Grey-
servant shall forthwith be
:it Bath, and has left
hound, in Gracechurch-street,
discharged. Servants shall at-
an unmarried daughter, with
shall be rewarded for their
tend from six in the morning
a fortune of 20,000. Nov.,
pains. August, 1680.
until ten at night. Oct 1680.
1790.
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
Cl
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY ALL
ROUND OUR HOUSE.
CHAPTER II.
THE TRAVELLERS FIND THAT THE IX-
TEREST OF THE JOURNEY COMMENCES
AT A POINT WHICH WAS NOT AT FIRST
ANTICIPATED.
WHENEVER travellers are about to set
out upon a journey, there are a number
of unforeseen delays and impediments ;
and wants arise which have been com-
pletely overlooked. But when we
resolved upon performing " A Journey
Round Our House," we certainly did
not expect to meet with the difficulties
that presented themselves. Let not the
reader, who is supposed to accompany
us through our journey, be disheartened
by this admission. Our perplexity at
the starting arose, not out of the limits
of our journey, but out of its vast ex-
tent ; not because of the few roads open
for us to travel, but on account of the
diversity of the prospect, and the multi-
plicity of paths that lay before us, all
inviting us to pursue them, and enticing
us by the beautiful truths which
clustered around them, like flowers em-
bellishing the path- way of the pioneer.
We knew not where to begin. The
prospect, which at first seemed simple
and circumscribed, widened before us
at every fresh glance. Our House at
once became a Paradise an Eden bright
with flowers. The fruit of science and
of knowledge clustered around every
object upon which we cast our eyes.
So that our imagination was for some
time bewildered, and we knew not
which way to turn.
Let us illustrate our difficulty. Sup-
pose we commenced with the fire that
blazed cheerfully before us. We should
at once have had to explore the deep
mines of the earth, from which the iden-
tical pieces of coal then burning had
not long been disembowelled. Our
imagination would have been earned
back to some thousands of centuries
ago, when those very pieces, now throw-
ing out their cheerful light and heat,
were branches of stately vegetables,
waving their luxuriant leaves in the
wind ; we should have to dwell for some
time in solemn contemplation of those
mighty, those wonderful, those terrible
revolutions in nature, which folded the
vast primeval forests in the bosom of
the earth, until by the industry and
skill of man they were disentombed, and
applied to the promotion of his com-
fort. Wonderful to think that thousands
of years before we breathed the breath
of life, those leaves were grown, to die
and be stored up through successive
centuries, that they might warm and
cheer us now ! Yet, that they did so
exist that they have lain thus buried
through thousands of years are truths
as palpable as that they are here now
comforting us by the warmth they
yield.
Still further: we should have to
examine the changes now being under-
gone by the pieces of coal as they
diminished perceptibly before our eyes.
We should have to consider that the
air, passing in rapid undulations towards
the fire, yielded up one of its gases to
unite with the substance of the coal,
and that the two rejoicing in their new
love, flew off like spirits released from
the dead, to brighter worlds. We
should have to follow these aerial crea-
tures in their flight, and we should find
them again among their old friends,
giving beauty to the flower, verdure to
the leaf, and strength and grandeur to
the tree. Perhaps we might even trace
those pieces of coal, until we found that
some parts of them, in their new and
gaseous form, uniting themselves to the
substances of the vegetables that were
growing in our garden, came back as
grateful food upon our table !
You see, therefore, Reader and fellow
Traveller, the " Journey Round our
House " is a far more extensive journey
than at first it seemed to be, and that
the discoveries which we may make on
our way, have never been exceeded in
importance, even by those of Cook,
Columbus, Linnaeus, Cuvier, or Hum-
boldt.
Well, we knew not from which point
to start. Whether we looked upon the
ceiling, the floor, or the walls of the
room ; whether we went outside, or re-
mained inside of the building ; whether
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
we started from its roof, or
whether we con.: ;ch the
furniture of the ho", house
itself, the same i. u>jects,
and of truth l us.
Whanerer
discovered land, he puts down in his
note-book the most minute particulars
of the geographical features of the
country ; he describes its auiiu
vegetable?, its atmosphere, its waters,
:md above all its inhabitants. We must
do the same in our "Journey Uound
our House : " the spider and the lly will
supply an interesting chapter in the
natural history of our Journey.
It was reflecting and reasoning thus,
that ultimately determined the point
from which we should start. A point
" nearer home " than any of us at first
anticipated. It was to commence with
OURSELVES, the inhabitants of the
country we had set out to explore !
I had no sooner proposed this start-
ing point to my fellow-travellers (iny
daughters and my wife) than they all
seemed filled with delight at so good
and appropriate a thought. I therefore
brought down from my library all the
physiological and anatomical works I pos-
sessed, and taking them as the charts by
which we wore to be guided, we fairly
started upon our " Voyage of Discovery."
It was agreed that the several travellers
should explore for themselves such parts
of the subject as they might feel most
interest in, and that we would occasion-
ally meet, like a band of pioneers be-
neath the shade of the cypress, to hold
our councils, and communicate our dis-
coveries. I will endeavour to collect
those discoveries into something like
order and connexion, and they may be
regarded as the narrative of the first
portion of our " Journey of Discovery." i
Man's body is to his soul, in many re- j
spects, what a house is to its occupant.
But how superior is the dwelling which ,
God erected to that which man has built. :
Reader, come out of yourself for one mo- ,
ment, and in imagination realise the '
abstraction of the soul from the body.
Make an effort of thought, and do not re-
lin'junh that effort until you fancy that
you see your image seated on a chair by
u. Andnowpro-
mr mental self certain ques-
tions respecting your bodily tenement
:iL-h, peivhaiK-e, h;ivo never
"d to you before; but which will
nselves the more forcibly
upon you in proportion as yoxi realise
to yourself, for a moment, the idea of
>ul examining tho body which it
inhal
re sits before you a form of ex-
proportions, with reference to the
mode of life it has to pursue the wants
of the soul for which it has to cm
which it has to guard, under tho di-
rection of that soul, its owner aud
master. Its head is covered with hair,
of which there are many thousands,
perhaps some millions. Well, what do
you think of a hair 1 Have you ever
examined one 1 Each of those hairs
is curiously constructed, and organised.
If you take a branch of a tree, and cut
it across, you will find curious mark rags
called the grain of the wood, indicating
its wonderful formation : for this grain
j is caused by vessels of various structure,
all necessary to the existence of the
plant. In the centre will be found
either a hollow tube, or a space occu-
pied by a soft substance called pith.
Each hair of your head is as curiously
formed as the branch of a tree, and in a
manner not dissimilar, though its parts
are so minute that the unaided eye
cannot discern them. Each hair has a
root, just as a tree has, and through
this root it receives its nourishment.
As the vessels which feed a plant are
always proportionate to the size of the
plant itself, how wonderfully fine must
be those vessels which form the roots of
the hair, being in proportion to the size
of the hair, which is in itself so small
that the eye cannot see its structure !
The hair is, in fact, an animal plant,
growing upon the body in much the
same manner as plants grow upon the
surface of the earth. But how does
this hair grow ? Not by the simple ad-
dition of matter at its roots, pushing up
and elongating its stem : the nourish-
ment of tho hair passes up through its
whole length and io depoaited upon its
end, just as the nourishment of a tree
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
is deposited upon its extreme branches.
If you, after having your hair cut, were
to examine its ends by the microscope, !
you would discover the abrupt termina- j
tion left by the scissors. But allow the j
hair to grow, and then examine it, and
you would discover that it had grown
from its point, which, in comparison
with its former state, is perfect and
fine. The reason why the beard is so
hard is, that the erds of the hair are
continually being shaved off. The hair
of the beard, if allowed to groAv, would
become almost as soft as the hair of the
head.
But why is man's head thus covered
with hair? For precisely the same
reason that a house is thatched- to
keep the inmates warm. We might
add, also, to give beauty to the edifice.
But as beauty is a conventional quality,
and if men were without it they would
consider themselves quite as handsome
as they clo now, we will not enlarge
upon the argument. Our bald-headed
friends, too, might have reason to com-
plain of such an unfavourable hypo-
thesis.
Let us take care that our discoveries
are sound, and do not tend to error.
The chief huir upon the human body is
placed upon the head, which is the seat
of the brain, and, next to the heart, the
most vital part of the system. There
are in the human body numerous
organs, denominated glands. The brain
is the chief of them ; and it is found
that in all parts where glands are laid,
they are kept warm by one or two pro-
visions either a covering of hair, or a
coating of fat. These glands and
especially the brain are of deep impor-
tance in the human economy.
It is true that hair is to be found in
parts where there are no glands that
can be supposed to receive warmth
from it. But in these cases the hair
fulfils other purposes which will be
presently explained. It may, however,
be regarded as a fact, that in all parts
where there is a thick covering of hair,
there are glands which derive warmth
and protection from it.
Besides tho warmth afforded to the
brain by the hair, it is perfectly encased
in a tenement of bone. The brain in
the great organ upon which the health,
the welfare, the happiness of the system
depends. The skull, therefore, may be
regarded as analogous to the " strong
box," the iron chest, in which the
merchant keeps his treasure. There is
no point at which the brain can be
touched to its injury, without first
doing violence to the skull. Even the
spinal cord, which may be regarded as
a prolongation of the brain, runs down
the back through a tunnel or tube
formed in a number of strong bones,
so closely and firmly .joined together,
that they are commonly termed "the
back bone."
Look at the eyebrows. What purpose
do they fulfil ? Precisely that of a
shed, or arch placed over a window, to
shelter it from rain. But for the eye-
brows, the perspiration would fre-
quently run from the brow into the
eyes, and obscure the sight ; a man
walking in a shower of rain would
scarcely be able to see ; and a mariner
in a storm would find a double difficulty
in braving the tempest, but for this
simple provision.
Now we come to the eye, which is
the window of the soul's abode. And
what a window ! how curiously con-
structed, how wisely guarded ! We do
not intend in the course of these dis-
coveries to encumber our subject by
the use of the technical phraseology of
scientific men. We contemplate the
objects themselves, and describe them
by the inspiration which they afford us.
In the eyelashes, as well as the eye-
brows, we see the hair fulfilling a use-
ful purpose differing from those already
described. The eyelashes serve to keep
cold winds, dust, and too bright sun,
from injuring or entering the windows
of the bo dy. When we walk against the
east wind, we bring the tips of our eye-
lashes together, and in that way exclude
the cold air from the surface of the eye ;
and in the same manner we exclude the
dust and modify the light. The eye-
lashes, therefore, are like so many sen-
tries, constantly moving to and fro,
protecting a most important organ, and
one that affords us great delight, from
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
injury. The eyelids are the shutters
by which the windows are opened and
closed. But they also cleanse the eye,
keeping it bright and moist. There
are, moreover, at the. sides of each eye
or window, little glands, or springs, by
which a clear fluid is formed and sup-
plied for cleansing the eye. The eye is
place d in a socket of the skull, in which
it has free motion, turning right or left,
up or down, to serve the purpose of the
inhabitant of the dwelling. Of the
structure of the eye itself we will not
say much, for that alone would form a
subject for a volume. But we would
have you examine the beautiful forma-
tion of the iris of the eye, the ring
which surrounds the pupil. Hold a
light to it, and you will find that the
iris will contract and diminish the
pupil ; withdraw the light and the iris
will relax, and the pupil will expand,
thus regulating the amount of light.
The images of external objects are
formed upon the retina of the eye, a
thin membrane, spread out upon the
extremity of a large nerve, which pro-
ceeds immediately to the brain, and forms
the telegraphic cord by which informa-
tion is immediately given to the mind,
of everything visible going on within
the range of sight. A landscape of
many miles is portrayed upon a space
.smaller than a sixpence.
Now think, for a few moments, \ipon
the wonderful structure of these win-
dows of the body. Can you fancy,
in the walls of your house, a window
which protects itself, cleanses itself,
and turns in any direction at the
mere will of the tenant; and when
that tenant is oppressed by excess of
light, draws its own curtain, and gives
him ease; and when he falls asleep,
closes its own shutters and protects it-
self from the cold and dust of night,
and the instant he awakes in the morn-
ing, opens, cleanses itself with a fluid
which it has prepared during the night
and kept in readiness ; and repeats this
routine of duty day after day for half a
century, without requiring repair ?
Such, nevertheless, is the wonderful
structure of the window of the body
the Eye.
The next part of the system which
presents itself for examination is the
This organ is given us for two
purposes: to enable us to respire and
to smell. As odours generally arise
from the surface of the earth, the cup
or funnel of the no-,- i.s turned down to
meet them. In the nostrils hair again
serves a useful purpose. It not only
warms the air which enters the nos-
trils, but it springs out from all sides,
and forms an intersecting net. closing
the nostrils against dust, and the intru-
sion of small insects. If by any means,
as when taking a sharp sniff, foreign
matters enter the nostrils, the nose
is armed with a set of nerves which
communicate the fact to certain muscles,
and the organs of respiration unite
with those muscles to expel the in-
truding substances. In this action, the
diaphragm, or the muscle which di-
vides the abdomen from the chest, is
pressed down, the lungs are filled with
air, the passage by which that air would
otherwise escape through the mouth is
closed up, and then, all at once, with
considerable force, the air is pressed
through the nostrils, to free them from
the annoying substance. So great is
the force with which this action takes
place, that the passage into the mouth
is generally pushed open, occasioning
the person in whom the action takes
place, to cry "'tshaP and thus is
formed what is termed a sneeze ! As
with the Eye, so with the Nose, innu-
merable nerves are distributed over the
lining membrane, and these nerves are
connected with larger nerves passing to
the brain, through which everything
relating to the sense of smell is commu-
nicated.
The next part of the system is the
mouth, which answers the fourfold pur-
pose of the organ of taste, of sound, of
mastication, and of breathing. For
all of these operations, except in breath-
ing, these various parts of the mouth
are engaged. In eating we ase the
lips, the tongue, and the teeth. The
teeth serve the purpose of grinding the
food, the tongue turns it during the
process of grinding, and delivers it up
to the throat, for the purposes of the
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
stomach, when sufficiently masticated.
The lips serve to confine the food in the
mouth, and assist in swallowing it, and
there are glands underneath the tongue,
and in the sides of the mouth, which
pour in a fluid to moisten the food. And
so watchful are these glands of their
duty, that the mere imagination fre-
quently causes them to act. Their fluid
is required to modify the intensity of
different flavours and condiments which
man, in his love of eating, will indulge
in. Thus, when we eat anything very-
acid, as a lemon, or anything very irri-
tating, as Cayenne pepper, the effect
thereof upon the sensitive nerves of the
tongue is greatly modified by a freeflow
of saliva inte the mouth. And if we
merely fancy the taste of any such
things, these glands are so watchful,
that they will immediately pour out
their fluid to mitigate the supposed
effect.
In speaking, we use the lips, the
teeth, the tongue ; and the chest supplies
air, which being controlled in its emis-
sion, causes the various sounds which
we have arranged into speech, and by
which, \inder certain laws, we are
enabled to understand each other's
wants, participate in each other's emo-
tions, express our loves, our hopes, our
fears, and glean those facts, the accumu-
lation of which constitutes knowledge,
enhances the happiness of man, and
elevates him, in its ultimate results,
above the lower creatures to which the
blessing of speech is denied.
In tasting, the action is precisely
similar to that of smelling. A certain
effect is produced upon the nerves of
taste, distributed over the tongue, and
they communicate immediately with
larger nerves proceeding to the brain,
constituting the telegraphic cord by
which all matters relating to taste are
conveyed to the mind.
In hearing, the nerves are affected by
the vibrations of the air, which are
communicated to the tympanum of
the ears, over which minute nerve-
branches are thickly distributed.
These are the filaments of the extremi-
ties of the auditory nerves, by which
sounds, and the direction and sources
from which they proceed, are commu-
nicated to the mind.
The organs, whose functions we have
been describing, are called the organs of
the senses. Through their agency, we
are enabled to hear, see, feel, smell, and
taste, and thus we preserve and enjoy
our relations with the external world.
Now, in order to avoid falling into a
merely anatomical or physiological de-
scription of the human body, let us bear
in mind that we have set out upon ;i
"journey of discovery," and that, there-
fore, instead of following in the beaten
track of our predecessors, we are to
explore for ourselves. Away, then,
from the arbitrary paths of science into
fresh fields of thought, and let us
imagine that the soul that inhabits the
tenement we have partly described,
is attended by numerous servants, the
duties of some of whom we have al-
ready explained.
That wonderful essence, the aoul of
man, rises above all finite knowledge.
Its wonders and powers will never,
probably, be understood until when, in
a future state of existence, the grandest
of all mysteries shall be explained.
When we talk of the brain, we speak of
that which it is easy to comprehend as
the organ, or the seat of the mind;
when we speak of the mind, we have
greater difficulty in comprehending the
meaning of the term we employ ; but
when we speak of the soul, we have
reached a point which defies our under-
standing, because our knowledge is
limited. The brain may be injured by
a blow ; the mind may be pained by a
disagreeable sight, or offended by a
harsh word ; but the soul can only be
influenced secondarily through the
mind, which is primarily affected by the
organ of the material senses. Thus the
happiness or the misery of the soul de-
pends upon the proper fulfilment of the
duties of the senses, which are the
servants of the soul, over which the
mind presides, as the steward who me-
diates between the employer and the
employed.
Such reflections as these, based as
they evidently are upon truth, though
somewhat new to mankind, lead ua in
80
A JOURNEY OF DISCO V F.I *.
eyitably to exercise a due watchfulness
over every action of our lives. The ear, J
which is taught to delight in sweet ]
sounds, and in pure language, is a better j
servant of the Master Soul, than one j
which delights not in music, and which
listens, with approbation or indifference,
to the oaths of the profane. The eye
which rejoices in the beauties of nature,
?jid in scenes of domestic happiness and
love, is a more faithful servant than
one that delights in witnessing scenes
of revelry, dissipation, and strife. The
nose which esteems the sweet odour of a
flower, or the life-giving freshness of the
pure air, is more dutiful to his master
than one that rejects not the polluted
atmosphere of neglected dwellings. The
mouth which thirsts for morbid grati-
fication of taste, is more worthless than
one which is contented with wholesome
viands, and ruled by the proper instincts
of its duty.
The hourly, the momentary actions
of these senses must necessarily affect
the mind, which is the head steward of
the soul ; and the soul becomes rich in
goodness, or poor in sin, in proportion
as the stewardship, held by his many
servants,is rightly or wrongfully fulfilled.
This, if we mistake not, is a clear and
a truthful exposition of the relation be-
tween the material and the immaterial
world the body and the spirit and is
free from objections which have been
offered to other theories.
We shall therefore speak of the Soul
as the inhabitant of the tenement we
have further to describe ; and shall, in
all respects, regard this high and im-
mortal spirit as the Master of the
Mind.
Admitting, however, this exception
that, as in an establishment where the
servants are not properly directed and
ruled, they often gain the ascendancy,
and the master has no power over them :
this is precisely the case with man,
when he gives himself up to sensual
indulgences. The soul becomes the
slave of the senses the master is con-
trolled by the servants.
Let us recall to the mind of our fel-
low-traveller, that he is supposed, by an
effort of imagination, to have come out
from within bib bodily tenement ; and
that he is now engaged in a minute ex-
amination of his bodily structure. There
remain many and most curious parts
and works yet to be examined. But
before we proceed to the inspection and
description of the internal chambers,
we will call attention to the fact that
this tenement is so constructed that it-
can be moved at will. How wonderful
is the mechanism by which the motions
of the body are accomplished ! In the
steam-engine, the force of steam, burst-
ing its way through valves, and rushing
into chambers and throwing up the pis-
ton, motion is procured. The steam enters
with a force varying in proportion to
the construction of the engine, and the
uses to which it is applied. But, never-
theless, a force so great, that it will fre-
quently rend wrought- iron as if it were
as frail as a sheet of paper ; in clocks the
motive power is supplied by pulleys and
weights ; and in watches aud minor
mechanical contrivances, by spring?,
which, being wound closely together,
have a tendency to expand themselves,
and by this tendency, set the wheels
and levers in motion. But the body is
put in metion by a thought ; by a
simple emotion or desire ! For a few
moments devote yourself, fellow-travel-
ler, to a few discoveries which, though
apparently simple, are among the most
astounding and delightful facts that you
can glean from any source. Nineveh's
wonders are stale and flat compared to
these. The Pyramids of Egypt may be
forgotten. The alchemist's search after
the philosopher's stone becomes com-
paratively a mere pastime.
Lay your arm and hand down upon
the table, let the palm of the hand be
upwards. Open your hand, then close
it quickly what caused it to close
The thought to close your hand had
scarcely passed your mind, when, lo ?
the act was accomplished. Open your
hand again place the thumb upon the
palm. Return the thumb to it- place,
then elevate the first finger, then the
second, then the third. Your will is
tly answered in each instance.
\Vhy is it so ? How is it that when you
wished to raise one finger only, the
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
C7
whole hand did not close ? Or that
when you desired the thumb to lie
upon the palm of the hand, a finger did
not drop in the place instead ? How
was it that when you wished to raise
the second finger, the mandate went
from the mind unto that finger, and not
to any other ? How is it that the mere
thought the mere effort of the will
caused the machinery of the arm and
hand to act and to act with BO much
exactness ?
Here, fellow-traveller, are materials
for thought and discovery, which may
well employ your leisure hours. Depend
upon it that until you have examined
such wonderful though familiar things
as have here been presented to your ob-
servation examined them minutely
and earnestly you have left the best
philosophy xmtouched, and have failed
to explore the most beautiful region
which God has granted unto us for the
furtherance of knowledge and the pro-
motion of our soul's welfare.
Try another experiment. Place be-
fore you a book say the Interview} .
Place it among other books, and desire
to select it from among the rest, for
the purpose of perusal. The moment
you desire to read it, your arm is out-
stretched and the hand takes hold of
the right work. The arm stretches
neither too far nor not far enough, but
it reaches exactly to the spot where the
book lies. It takes up the book the
one you desire and leaves the many
others behind. You turn over the leaves
you reach the page whereon is written,
" A Journey of Discovery all Round
Our House ;" and now the very thoughts
which are passing through my mind
begin to flow through yours. That
little book has lain for days and nights
unopened, unobserved. I am a stranger
to you. We reside apart. We may
never know each other. Yet my
thoughts enter your mind, and are pre-
sented to your soul, and your soul is
elevated or depressed in tone, becomes
better or worse for having had the
thoughts of my own soul laid before
it. How wonderful is this^ and how
important that we should endeavour to
drink from the fountains of truth only !
Since the time when I penned these
thoughts, others may have engaged mv
attention ; and the moment that may
find your mind busily collecting the
principles and facts here set down, may
find me deeply absorbed in some other
theme, wrapped in the sleep of nature,
or sunk into the abyss of death !
How can we explain the action that
takes place in the hand and arm as be-
fore described ? All we know about it
may be thus communicated. The arm
is made up of a series of bones, muscles,
and nerves. There are also blood-vessels,
and cartilages, and tendons. But they
do not call for specific notice in describing
the actions which take place. The term
muscles may be held to include the car-
tilages and tendons which are attached
to them ; and the blood-vessels will re-
ceive specific mention when we speak
of the circulation of the blood.
Now the office of the bones and the
muscles is simply mechanical. By their
structure and relative dispositions, the
motions we desire are effected. But
what is it that sets these bones and
muscles in motion ? The mind, whose
seat of government is the brain, com-
municates your desire to numerous
nerves which pass along the arm and
reach the extremities of the fingers.
These nerves are as fine as hairs, and are
abundantly distributed. Now, in effect,
these nerves say to the parts with which
they communicate, that your desire is
to open or to close your hand, to raise
your first, second, or third finger. But
to what or to which organs do the
nerves communicate your desire, and
how does the response take place ?
Do these nerves communicate with the
muscles, or the bones, or irritate and ex-
cite them to action ? No. There are
two sets of nerves ; and this is a most
interesting, and also a well-ascertained
fact. The nerves of volition are not
those of motion. There is one set of
nerves which convey the desire of the
will, and another 'set which, receiving
the instructions, cau.se them to be ex-
ecuted. The muscles aod the bones are
under the command of the nerves of
motion. The one nervous system com-
municates with the other nervous
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
system, and then the action or desire is I
fulfilled. This is wonderful most i
wonderful ! But it is God's work ;ind,
therefore, possible. In this way all
our voluntary motions are performed.
But let us look further into this inter-
esting subject. We shall find that many
of the servants of the soul have been en-
gaged iu the fulfilment of the simple !
duty we have been pointing out. You de-
sired to close your hand. The mind sent
forth that desire through the nerves,
which are the messengers over that part
of the system. The nerves, which are
the messengers, communicated the de-
sjire to those nerves which are the officers
of motion; these latter caused the
muscles to act iipon the bones in such
a manner as to close the hand, which
was the act you desired.
But that is not all. There was a
watchful servant, the eye, which, im-
mediately it saw the act fulfilled, re-
ported to the mind that it had been
dene. And even the nerves of volition,
which had conveyed your desire out-
ward from the mind, returned through
another department, the nerves of touch,
the intelligence that the desire had
been fulfilled. A moment's reflection
will serve to show that all these actions
must have taken place. If you had
been blind, and could not see, and if
your hand had, from some accident, lost
the sense of feeling, you could not
have known when to have ceased the
effort to close the hand. But you saw
and felt that the hand was closed, and
you instantly opened it again. Now as
this action took place in one of the ex-
tremeties of the body, the intelligence
by feeling and by sight must have
passed inward from the hand and eye to
the brain, just as in the first instance
the desire was passed outward from the
brain to the hand.
Let us take the case of a man who is
walking a crowded thoroughfare, and
we shall see how wonderfully active
are all the servants of the soul,
the direction of the mind. He walks
along in a given direction. But for the
act of volition in the niind not a muscle
would stir. The eye is watching his
footsteps. There is a stone in his path,
the eye informs the mind, the mind
communicates with the brain and the
nerves, the nerves lift the foot a little
higher, or turn it on one side, and the
stone is avoided. The eye alights upon
a familiar face, and the mind reminds
him that he has seen that face before.
He goes on thinking of the circumstance
under which he saw that person, and
partially forgets his walk, and the direc-
tion of his steps. But the nerves of
volition and motion unite to keep the
muscles up to their work, and the man
walks on without having occasion to
think continually, " I must keep walk-
ing." He has not to make an effort to
lift his legs along, between each inter-
val of meditation. He walks and medi-
tates the while. Presently a danger
approaches him from behind. The eye
sees it not knows no more, in fact,
than if it were dead. But the ear
sounds the alarm, tells the man, by the
rumbling of a wb eel, and the tramp of
horses' feet, that he is in danger ; and
then the nerves, putting forward their
utmost strength, whip the muscles up
to the quick performance of their duty ;
the man steps out of the way of danger ;
and he is saved. He draws near to a
sewer, which is vomiting forth its poi-
sonous exhalations. The eye is again
unconscious it cannot see the poison
lurking in the air. The ear, too, is
helpless ; it cannot bear witness to the
presence of an enemy to life. But the
nose detects the noxious agent, and
then the eye points out the direction of
the sewer, and guides his footsteps to a
path wherein he may escape the injuri-
ous consequences. The clock strikes,
and the ear informs him that it is the
hour of an appointment. The nerves
stimulate the muscles again, and he is
hastened onward. He does not know
the residence of his friend, bir
tongue asks for him, and his ear makes
known the reply. He reaches the spot
sits rests. The action of the mus-
cles is stayed ; the nerves are for a time
at rest. The blood which had flowed
freely to feed the muscles while they
were working, goes more steadily
through the veins and arteries, and
the lungs, which, had been purity ing
THE MILITARY EXECUTION.
fi9
the blood in its course, partake of the
partial rest Such is the action of
]jfe S uch the care which God has
taken of us such the beauty of his
works. Another Interview will enable
us to look into other wonders con-
nected with ourselves.
VITAL STATISTICS.
IT has been computed, that in France,
out of a number of individuals born the
same year, one-sixth die the first year,
one-fifth the second, one-third the four-
teenth year, one-half at the end of 42
years, three-quarters at the end of 69
years, four-fifths after 72 years, and
five-sixths after 75 years. In the last
century, French statisticians found that
44 individuals per cent, reach the age
of 30 ; 23 per cent, reach 60 ; 15 per cent.
70; 472 percent. 80; and 4 73 per cent,
reach 90. At the present time, it seems
that the mean duration of human life is
39 years and 8 months ; 26 years ago it
was only 36 years, according to some,
and so little as 33, according to others.
In 1817, the mean duration of life was
only 31 years and 3 months ; at the end
of the 18th century it was 28 years and
J) months ; in the 17th century 26 years ;
and only 17 years in the 14th century.
In Geneva, the mean duration of human
life was 18 years and 5 months in the
16th century ; 23 years and 4 months
in the 17th century; 33 years in the
18th; and has risen to 38 years and 10
months between 1815 and 1826. In
1840, the mean duration of life was,
in England, above 38 years ; in France,
36$ ; in Hanover, 35 years and 4 months;
in Holstein, 34 years and 7 months ; in
Holland, 34 years; in the Duchy of
Baden, 32 years and 9 months ; at
Naples, 31 years and 7 months; in
Prussia, 30 years and 3 mouths; in
Wirtembeig, 40 years ; and in Saxony,
29 years. It will be perceived that the
mean duration of life is gradually in-
creasing in Europe, and especially in
France.
THE MILITARY EXECUTION.*
His doom has been decreed,
He has owned the fatal deed,
And its sentence is here to abide
No mercy now can save ;
They have dug the yawning grave,
And the hapless and the bravp
Kneels beside.
No bandage wraps his eye,
He is kneeling there to die
Unbllnded, undaunted, alone.
His latest prayer has ceased,
And the comrade and the priest
From their last sad task released,
Both are gone.
His kindred are not near
The fatal knell to hear,
They can but weep the deed when 'tis done ;
They would shriek, and wail, and pray:
It is well for him to-day
That his friends are far away
All but one.
Yes, in his mute despair,
The faithful hound is there,
He has reached his master's side with si
spring.
To the hand which reared and fed,
Till its ebbing pulse has fled,
Till that hand is cold and dead,
He will cling.
What art, or lure, or wile
That one can now beguile
From the side of his master and friend ?
He has gnawed his cord in twain :
To the arm which strives in vain
To repel him, he will strain,
To the end.
The tear-drop who can blame ?
Though it dim the veteran's aim
And each breast along the line heave the sigh.
But 'twere cruel now to save ;
And together in that grave,
The faithful and the brave,
Let them lie.
Worldly joy is a sunflower, which
shuts when the gleam of prosperity is
over : spiritual joy is an evergreen an
unfading plant.
DR. BUSBY, whose figure was much
tinder the common size, was one day
accosted in a coffee-room by an Irish
baronet of colossal height, " May I pass
to my seat, giant ?" when the Doctor,
politely making way, replied, " Yes,
pigmy." "Oh, sir," said the baronet,
" my expression* referred to the size of
your intellect." " And mine to the size
of yours," replied the Doctor.
* From The Pilgrimage and other Poems, by
the Earl of Ellesmere.
70
A rHKl.ATK'S DINNER.
A PRELATE'S DINNER
THE following extract i- taken from a
Black-letter work. entitle! "C
Secrete Wonders of Nature confin-
ing adeseriptio of sundry strange tiling,
semiug monstrous in o\ir eyes and Judg-
ment, because we are not priuie to the
reasons of them. Gathered out of diners
learned authors, as well Grcekc as La-
tint, sacred as prophane. By E. Feu-
ton. Apres fortune espoir. Imprinted
at London by Henry Biuneuieu, dwell-
ing in Kuightrider-streat, at the signe of
the Mermaid. Anno 1569."
After giving an account of Cleopatra
dissolving a large pearl, at the banquet
she gave to Antony, the chapter thus
proceeds :
" And yet was this prodigalitie little
or nothing in respect of the magnificall
pompe which the Emperor Gaeta vsed
in his publike banquettes : for he caused
himself to be served at the borde with
diversite of meate>, as fish and fleshe,
in the order of the Alphabet, for all
foule and fishe that he could recouer
that began with A, he caused to be set
on his table as a firste seruice, as Aus-
iriges and suche others, practising the
like in the seconde course with B, as
Bustarde, Bitter, and suche lyke, the
same not fayling to come immediately
after ye first seruice was taken awaye ;
and so .consequently eury letter was
honored with a seruice till the whole
Alphabet was performed, hauing in
deede Cookes and Gators appointed for
that purpose only.
"But what stande we so longe in the
searche of foraine prodigalities in ban-
quettes, seeing (amongst a number of
others) our time hath stirred up a mon-
strous example that waye, in Aiiignon,
at such time as mine author studied
the laws under Einilius Farreus.
Emilius Farrctus, in whose time there
was a Prelate straunger, whose name I
will concele, as well for the honour of
his profession as to muche superstition
in himselfe, who one day inuited to a
banquette the nobilitie of Auiguon, as
well men as women, where, for firste be-
ginninge of his pompe, at the very en-
trie into the halle where the banquette
, pointed, Live spread vpon a curi-
ous borde a greate beefe with his heade
:i<l purged in his iutrailes,
having in his bellie a whole harte or
deare of the like dressing, stufte full of
little birdes, as Quailes, Part riches,
Larkes, Peasants, and other lyke, the
same being so cvnningly inclosed in the
bellie of the seconde beaste, and they so
artificially couioned ye one within the
other, that it seemed some excellent
Mathematician had beue the worke-
man thereof.
" But that whiche made the matter
both straunge and wonderfull was that
all the birdes so assembled did roste
and turne all alone vpon a broche by
certaine compasse and conduites with-
oute the ayde of any men : For the firste
course and order of the table, his gestes
were presented with store of curious
pastrie, wherein were wrought and in-
closed manye little birdes quicke, who,
assone as they cruste was taken of, be-
gan to fiie about the hall : there were
besides simdrie sortes of siluer plate,
full of jellie so subtillie conueighed,
that a man might have seenin the bot-
tome a number of little fishes quicke,
swimming and leaping in sweete water
and inuske, to the greate delite and
pleasure of the assistaunts : neither is
it lesse strauuge that all the foules
which were serued upon the table were
larded with Lampraye, albeit it was
in a season when they coste halfe a
crowne a piece : but that which scales
up the superstitious pompe of this
proude Prelate, was, that there was re-
serued as many quicke birdes, as he was
serued with dead foules, at his table,
the same contayniug suche indifferent
number that if there were a Feasant
sent dressed to the borde, there were
genltemeu (appointed for the purpose)
which presented another aliuve, and al
to showe the magnificence of the Prieste,
to whom what remains for the consum-
mation of his prodigall delites, but that
the Gentlemen which serued him had
their faces covered with a vaile leaste
their breathe should offende either him
or his meate."
HOW TO MAKE A GOOD FIRE.
71
HOW TO MAKE A GOOD FIRE.
IN our first Interview we gave several
hints upon the management of domestic
fires ; and we have been pleased to find
that since then the " first hint" has
been confirmed by an article which has
appeared severally in the Builder, the
Lancet, and the Times. The Lancet
makes the following remarks upon the
subject. We beg to call attention, how-
ever, to the fact, that we have found the
iron plate, recommended in " hint first,"
page 6, superior to the piece of paper
recommended below. The iron lasts
indefinitely, but the paper requires to
be renewed daily :
" The subject of coal-fires is so closely
connected with the ventilation, warm-
ing, and other sanitary arrangements of
our dwellings, that it falls strictly within
our province to invite the attention of
our readers to a new mode, that has
been recently noticed in the news-
papers, of making a fire in an ordinary
grate. _
" It is a proverb, that there is one thing
which everybody thinks he can do bet-
ter than anybody else that is, to
poke and make a fire. It sounds rather
oddly to be told that, although coals
have been used as fuel since the days of
our great grandfathers and great grand-
mothers, the proper way of using coals
economically, and of making a good fire,
has only just been discovered. It is
probable, however, that we are only now
entering upon a course of rational im-
provement in this matter. Many per-
sons have no doubt seen, within the last
few days, in the Times, a paragraph, i
taken from the Builder, describing the
following mode of making a fire : The
first step, as in all thorough reforms, is
to make a clean sweep. Clean out the
grate ; lay a piece of paper, cut to the
form and size of the lower part of the
grate, at the bottom ; pile up fresh coal '
as high as the level of the top bar, it '
is better that the pieces should be about
the size of stones used for macadamising
roads, and the larger lumps should be :
laid in front, then dispose paper or '
shavings and sticks on the top, and !
-cover with half -burnt cinders apd coal.
The fuel is laid. It is to be lighted at the
top.' Housemaids may stand aghast
and incredulous; but the results are
both astonishing and satisfactory. If
these simple instructions be well carried
out, the fire lights up at once, without
further trouble. The centre of the fuel
soon catches, and the inferior strata of
coal get ignited.. The fire burns down-
wards, and the smoke is forced to tra-
verse the upper layers of burning coal ;
the consequence is, perfect combustion.
A fire so made will go on burning for
six, eight, or even ten hours, without
poking, without adding fresh coal, or
any interference whatever. There is
little or no smoke, and scarcely any
ashes ; the fire gives out a pleasant and
uniform glow. We have put this mat-
ter to the test of experiment, and feel
well satisfied that we are rendering a
service to our readers by earnestly re^
commending them to try the plan forth
with. The members of our profession
are so closely associated with all classes
of the community, that they will at once
make this improvement known to the
whole of the public.
" Several pages of our journal might
be occupied by dwelling on the many
beneficial consequences that would at-
tend the universal adoption of this sys-
tem. It may be enough to point out a
few. The saving of coal is immense.
The avoidance of smoke is not only an
immediate comfort to the inmates of
each house, but the aggregate result in
London would be a material abatement
of a growing nuisance the increased
impurity of the air of the metropolis.
Poking the fire, shovelling up cinders,
throwing in coal, and replenishing coal-
scuttles, are annoyances that most per-
sons have too often experienced. A
fire made on the plan recommended will
burn the whole night without touching
and without watching. The fire in Dr.
Arnott's stove is made on a similar prin-
ciple. The same end is to a great ex-
tent accomplished. It has the advan-
tage of being applicable to the stoves in
common use. It is therefore a boon of
which every one may partake. The dis-
coverer is entitled to the thanks of the
community."
LEISURE MOM i
CURIOUS EPITAPHS
Two of his sons also lie here,
ALEXANDER GUN, an Inland
One Walter, t'other Joe;
Revenue officer in Scotland,
A BOOK entitled "A Collec-
They all of them wont in the
being dismissed from his em-
tion of Curious, Interesting, and
year 1510 below.
ployment for misconduct, au
J'acttioits Epitaphs, Monumental
..-.*," dr., by Joseph
Simpson, has just appeared.
The following are a few speci-
We have ourselves collected
many curious epitaphs in our
time. The following is upon
t-ii try v.us made in a bookfcept
for the- purpose, as fallows:
" A Gun discharged for making
a false report"
mens of the absurd inscrip-
our memory :
__^_
tions by which the tablets
"Tis my request,
A WITNESS in the Court of
commemorative of the dead
My bones may rest
Common Pleas lately gave her
are sullied:
Within this chest,
name as "Elizabeth Martha
ON A LINENDRAPER.
Without molest.
Selina Georgina Augusta Cu-
Cottons and cambrics, all adieu,
And muslins, too, farewell ;
Plain, striped, and figured, old
We are glad to mark an
improvement in the general
character of inscriptions upon
tombs. It was high time that
ham Burrows." This, she
said, was " her Christendom
name," but she did not in
general "write it in full."
and new,
Three quarters, yard, or ell ;
By nail and yard I've mea-
such gross absurdity should
cease to mock the solemnity of
death.
A YOUNG widow was asked
why she was going to take an-
sured ye,
other husband so soon after
As customers inclined ;
the death of the fir.-t. " <>,
The churchyard now has mea-
sured me,
And nails my coffin bind.
An Irish journal says the
following bill was presented by
a farrier : " To curing your
la !" said she, " I do it to pre-
vent fretting myself to death
on account of dear Tom."
FROM CUNWALLOW CHURCHYARD
pony that died yesterday,
l Is."
CORNWALL.
As proof of the fact that
(It may be read either back-
girls are useful articles, and
ward or forwards.)
A GENTLEMAN dining with a
that the world could not very
Shall we all die?
parsimonious man, was request-
well get along without them,
We shall die all.
All die shall we
Cape wine at dinner. " No,
that if all the girls were driven
Die all we shall.
thank you," said he, "I never
out of the world in one gene-
double the Cape."
ration, the boys would all go
FROM THETFORD CHURCHYARD.
out after them.
My grandfather was buried
here,
My cousin Jane, and two uncles
dear ;
A HUMOURIST remarking
upon the dispute pending be-
tween the teetotallers and
A MAN very much intoxi-
cated was sent to prison.
" Why don't you bail him
My father perished with an in-
flammation in the thighs,
And my sister dropped down
the " jolly full " bottlers of a
borough, termed it the " War
of the Red and White Noses.''
out?" inquired a bystander.
' Bail him out ! " exclaimed
the other, " you couldn't
dead in the Minories !
pump him out! "
Jjut the reason why I'm here
AT a ford in North Notts,
interred, according to my
near Ollerton, is a board with
MILTON, when blind, mar-
thinking,
the following inscription :
ried a shrew. The Duke of
i"s owing to my good living and
" Take notice, when this board
Buckingham called her a rose.
hard drinking.
is under water, the river is
"I am no judge of colours,"
If, therefore, good Christians,
impassable."
replied Milton, "but I dare
you wish to live long,
say you are right, for I feel
Don't drink too much wine,
the thorns daily."
brandy, gin, or anything
A WESTERN orator, in a late
strong.
swang wang address to the
DIBDIN had a horse which
FROM BRECON* CHURCHYARD.
unterrified voters of Cornopo-
lis, said that to save his coun-
he called Graphit. " Very odd
name!" said Oxenbury. "Not
God be praised !
try, a patriot should be willing
at all," responded Tom ; " when
Here is Mr. Dudley, senior,
to die, even if it cost him his
I bought him, it was Buy-a-
And Jane, his wife, also,
life. It is unnecessary to say
Graptiy; when I mount him,
Who, whilst living, was his
that " them " sentiments met
it's Top-o-Graphy, and when I
superior ;
with a " triumphant echo "
want him to go, it's Gee-ho-
But see what death can do.
from the assembled multitude.
Graphy."
GARDENING FOR MARCH.
73
GARDENING FOR MARCH.*
STOVE AND GREENHOUSE. Put cuttings
and seedlings of the tender and choice
annuals sown last month into thumb-
pots, from which they are to be shifted
at a more advanced stage, and shift all
plants that require repotting (leaving
the most forward to the end of this or
until the succeeding month), and make
cuttings of Hydrangias and Fuchsias,
and keep up a moist temperature of
about 70 degrees for a few days, until
the repotted plants acquire new roots in
the fresh mould, and the cuttings strike
theirs in a mild bottom heat. For
almost all the plants the mould may be
composed of rich maiden earth (rotten
turf preferable to any other), leaf mould
and sand in about equal proportions;
and for the lower stratum in the pots
charcoal is excellent, for it acts as a
drain below, and if a charred stick be
placed vertically in a pot, it becomes a
conductor of moisture to the roots of
the plant, which, without some such
management, are so frequently in dry
earth. Ground bones mixed with the
charcoal have a permanently good effect.
The depth of these porous substances
should be a third of the whole filling
for very delicate plants, such as heaths,
and indeed for cuttings of almost all
house plants.
The temperature of the greenhouse
should be much lower, though not
below 40 degrees during any part of the
month, and fires will be unnecessary as
the mouth advances. The flowering
plants should not be crowded or left
unventilated, but the more or less fre-
quent admission of fresh air will depend
very much on the size of the house and
the number of plants ; in a small and
full house the necessity for admitting
fresh air will be more urgent than
under opposite circumstances. Plants
* These excellent and familiar instructions
in gardening are chiefly derived from Houl-
ston and Stoneman's " Gardener," published
at Is. Gd., a work which, in addition to the
monthly directions, contains instructions in
the general principles of gardening that will
prove invaluable.
that have ceased flowering should be
removed from the greenhouse to the
conservatory or garden frames, to make
way for others about to blow.
Mr. Barnes, gardener to Lady Rolle,
in Devonshire, has been in the habit of
using fragments of charcoal of different
sizes with unsifted fibry soil and peb-
bles, in pot culture of every description
for upwards of twenty years, and with
the most beneficial effects. He was led
to use it from seeing the luxuriance of
grass and weeds in a wood where the
charcoal dust had got among them. He
tried it first with cucumbers, and then
with other* soft growing plants, and
most kitchen garden plants in drills.
Whether the mould should be unsifted
and therefore rough, or fine, should
depend, however, on the nature of the
plants for which it is intended. The
editor of the Gardener s Chronicle lays,
down as a rule, that soft-wooded plants,
such as Fuchsias and some of the
Clerodendrons, should be quite fine
(he assumes that they are to be first
put into small pots and to be shifted
into larger), in oi'der to let the roots
occupy every particle of it in a few
months. The compost for permanent
woody plants, on the contrary, should
be very rough.
Observe the directions for the pre-
ceding month respecting Auriculas. If
they be under frames, open the sashes
every fine day, keep them warm at
night, water very moderately until they
have opened their flowers, when even,
a soft shower would be injurious to
them, and shade them from much lighfc
to prevent their trusses from being
drawn : those (of a choice kind) which
produce two hearts should be deprived
of the weaker, and no buds except
those in the centre should be loft : a
very brilliant sun injures Polyanthuses
in blow by blanching the edges of the
flower protect them also.
Fine Carnations that have been under
frames should be put into nine or ten-
inch pots, or, if their roots be not much
matted, into smaller ones, from which
they should be afterwards shifted; when
potting them, take care that no wire
worm slips through your fingers in the
GARDEM!\ 7 G FOR MARCH.
compost, every particle of which ought
to be narrowly examined ; press the
balls round their roots gen-
fix them firmly in the pots.
Continue to force fruits, choice vege-
tables and roses, &c.
FRAME*. In the early melon pit, the
flowers may now require to be impreg-
nated : the plants put out last month
ought to be well rooted the middle of
...i mL : draw earth to the roots if
chey require it.
Give the same care to cucumbers as
to ventilation, watering, and lining, and
make fresh beds for later crops. Pro-
tect all your potted plants and cuttings
in frames, and give air to them when
you can.
Sow seeds of Dahlias; prick out two
inches apart those that were sown last
month, pot rooted cuttings of them
under frames, and lay the tubers that
are to be planted out next month into
hotbeds to make them push.
FLOWER GARDEN. Guard Tulips and
Ranunculuses from heavy rains and
frost ; the latter swell after much rain,
and frost succeeding injures them ex-
tremely. A top dressing of rotten
compost at the commencement of the
month will be serviceable to Pansies.
Fork and dress all flower-beds and bor-
ders, taking care not to loosen the roots
of the plants, and scatter lime, salt, or
soot, to destroy snails and grubs, which
will however be more effectively de-
stroyed by the activity of a sea gull
with clipped wings, which may be en-
couraged to roam about the garden at
Transplant annuals and biennials
sown last autumn.
KITCHEN GARDEN. Seakale is now
abundant for the table, by merely
taking the trouble of blanching the
shoots, and covering the crowns vith
sifted coal ashes, sand, peat, mould, or
tan ; fresh sowings or plantations of it
will, however, be always necessary at
this season, to keep up successions of
plants, if they be wanted for forcing in
the early part of the winter ; if yearling
plants are used instead of seed (which
is, however, more certain of success,
the best plants being those which grow
without removal from the places where
the seed was dropped), a year is gained :
for the same purpose, roots of rhubarb
may no\v bo parted, and put into fresh
plantations. . us and Elford's
scarlet stalked rhubarb (the former
much more so), if wanted for the table
early, must be forced by a In
ing of fermenting litter over the
or by digging trendies '> :n as
wide as the breadth of the alleys will
allow, two and a half or three feet
and filling them up with litter, of which
some should also be laid on hoops over
the beds. When you have obtained and
cut the crop, remove the litter from
the trenches, and fill them with rich
mould, into which the fibres of the
asparagus may strike freely. The dis-
advantage of forcing asparagus severely
is, that it will not bear a repetition of
the same treatment for three years a
serious matter with a vegetable which
cannot bear forcing at all until it is
four years' old, double the age sufficient
for seakale and rhubarb raised from
seed.
A rich, deep, and sandy loam is the
most suitable for those three valuable
plants, and if the sc-il be naturally dif-
ferent, it must be rendered appropriate,
as nearly as possible, for asparagus, by
combination with sea sand, loam, de-
composed turf, and a large quantity of
the richest manure, such as that from
a slaughter-house. Seakale does not
demand so much depth of rank soil as
asparagus, or rhubard, which is tap-
rooted. Sea- weed is an admirabl-
dime nt in their food ; the method of
propagating them all is almost the same.
After deep trenching and blending of
the manuring substances with the bot-
tom layer of mould, and throughout
the whole of it, form the ground (for '->
asparagus) into beds four feet wide,
with alleys of two feet intervening, and
to prevent any future irregularities in
dressing the beds and digging the alleys,
fix short stout stakes permanently at
every corner of each bed, so that by-
stretching the line from end to end
during those operations, the beds may
be kept at their original breadth : mark
two drills nine inches from the edges
GARDENING FOll MARCH.
of the beds, and one in the centre fifteen
inches from those outer ones ; drop the
seed in patches (to be thinned after-
wards), and cover it with an inch of
earth. You may take a crop of onions
and radishes (very thinly sown broad-
cast) the first year. The distances for
seakale and rhubarb between the drills
should be two feet, and if the seed have
been dropped irregularly in the drill,
the plants must be thinned out to two
or two feet and a half apart. Economy of
seed,however, demands that it should be
dropped only where actually required.
" The third spring, several stalks may
be gathered from each plant, and the
fourth spring the plantation will be in
full bearing. Excepting in the first
spring after sowing, no spring dressing
is required till May, after the crop has
been gathered. The London market
gardeners plant the seakale in rows
from four to six feet apart, and every
autumn, after the leaves have died
down to the surface, they dig a trench
between the rows, and cover the plants
with soil to the depth of a foot. As the
crop is gathered, tbe ridges so formed
are levelled down, and a crop planted
between. By this mode, the whole
produce of the plant is gathered at
once, every part of it being completely
blanched and tender."
Make plantations of artichokes, which
will grow very well in a stiff soil pro-
perly managed, though a rich friable
loam will be far better for them, as for
all productions generally. Trench, or
at least dig the ground deeply ; then
stretch your line, open holes fifteen
inches in diameter, and twelve inches
deep, three feet apart ; put two well-
rooted offsets into each hole, with the
tops above ground, and manure round
the roots ; then draw the line for the
next row four feet distant from the
first, and proceed as before, digging
good manure into the intervals. Plants
put down early this month will produce
some heads at the end of autumn.
Dress the established plantations, level-
ling the trenches, removing superfluous
stools and blending the Utter, which
had been protecting the plants, with
the BoiL
Jerusalem artichokes, once planted,
will take care of themselves ; like po-
tatoes, they have a disposition to renew
their growth from the tubers left in the
ground during the winter ; the best
way of propagating them, however, is
by planting sets of the tuber in well-
manured drills, exactly as potatoes are
cultivated ; any soil is good enough for
them, though that which is light and
sandy is the best. Once established, it
is not easy to get rid of them, as any
fractional part of a tuber that has an
eye will grow.
Do not lose a season for any of your
kitchen garden seeds, most of the com-
mon sorts of which may, however, be
now sown in sheltered borders, if the
ground _be in a good state. Turnips
and radishes will require a warm bed,
and though French beans may be sown
against a south wall, their success is
doubtful if they be put down before the
end of the month at soonest. Do not
omit sowing the seeds of Brussels
sprouts, as well as that of the savoy,
borecole, and successions of peas and
beans. When you have levelled the
ribbed and winter-manured ground for
carrots and parsnips, sow both crops in
sufficiently wide drills, leaving a greater
breadth, however, before those of the
latter than of the former .say sixteen
inches and thin the plants to eight
inches asunder : stake peas, plant and
earth up cabbages, transplant cauli-
flowers and lettuces, and put down cut-
tings of pot herbs, and offsets of chives ;
pick up and re-make gravel, and mow
turf walks ; dig and rake borders. The
planting of fruit-trees may be proceeded
with, but the details are not given until
the operations of October or November
are considered, which are better months
for the purpose. ]\Iulch the valuable
kinds, especially if newly planted, to *
keep out drought. The planting of
evergreens had better be postponed till :
next month : if you do plant or trans-
plant, stake them well, or the wind will
shake them severely. Peg down roses,
and finish the pruning of them ; lay
some, and take off suckers ; slip and
part roots of various plants. Dig the
ground in the nursery between the rows :
r.AUDENING FOR MARCH.
prick out seedlings, and plant cuttings
and slips, and put down acorns, korm-ls,
and berries of various kinds, in 1
well-prepared earth.
FRUIT GARDEN. Protect the blos-
soms of Peaches, &e., in the open garden
from frost and sharp winds, and lay
manure over their root ^ if you have not
done so before.
The pruning of fruit-trees ought to
have been finished at or before the
commencement of this month.
The important operations of grafting
are to be proceeded with ; its modes
are very numerous, but whatever be
the method, it is essential that the
scion and stock be at least of the same
genus, if not varieties of the same
pecies.
There are exceptions to this as to
most general rules. The medlar and
the pear will unite with the hawthorn,
though the genera be different, because
they happen ,to have some peculiar
assimilations of organisation and tem-
perament, the want of which prevents
the union of other trees, as of the peach
with the cherry, and of the apple with
the pear ; the latter indeed may be
grafted, but they do not thrive well.
For small grafts of fruit-trees. Rose-
trees, Pelargoniums, Camellias, &c., a
cement of these ingredients is excellent:
Rosin, one part ; pitch, ditto ; bees'-
wax, half-part ; to be melted together,
and applied with a small painting brush
or a few feathers together over the
thread. A man accustomed to this me-
thod of grafting (no favourite with our
gardeners, however) can graft one hun-
dred or more stocks in a day.
It is by cleft-grafting, however, that
the French propagate their numerous
varieties of Roses in spring : they con-
sider it the most simple and certain
method, if care is taken during the
ummer to pinch the shoots of the Rose
grafts to from four to six inches to
make them branch, and to rub off most
of the buds at the lower end. The
French gardeners obtain Roses in two
months from the time of grafting, and
for stocks they use Dog-briers at least
two years old, which are removed fronx
the hedges and forests. Thote taken
from a light soil are best, because their
capillary roots are more abundant than
f Dog-rose Briers raised in a
stiff one, to the nursi-ry in the previous
autumn, and planted closely in rows
eighteen inches asunder, each stock
being tied at two points to t\vo trans-
verse stakes fastened to upright ones.
Side-grafting may be usefully resorted
to for supplying a branch in a vacancy,
or, "for the sake of having diffei-eut kinds
of flowers and fruits upon the same tree;"
but it is better to graft on the M<lc
branches than on the main stem, because
in consequence of the flow of the sap
not being interrupted by heading down
the tree, the success of this kind of
grafting is more uncertain than almost
any other method.
A mode of side-grafting termed by the
French gardenersp/acff^ (veneering), is
employed by them for Pelargoniums
and Camellias. It consists in attaching
the graft, which is a thin layer of the
bark, with a bud attached to the stock,
from which a corresponding slice is
smoothly detached to give place to it.
When the stock and graft are of the
same size, and that a convenient one,
they may be easily united by ordinaiy
j splicing ; but to obtain more points of
contact, and to fix them firmly together,
the bark at each extremity, where the
knife first entered, should be raised a
little, to admit its lapping over the
narrow end of the splice, which must
be neatly bevilled to make it fit closely.
Graft and inarch Camellias, &c.
Herbaceous plants, such as the Dahlia
and Paeony, may now be propagated (as
a matter of curiosity) with a dormant,
eye, that is by inserting a bud on tho
neck of the tubercle in a small hole
made to receive it, and so that the base
of the bud shall be on a level with the
surface of the tubercle. Grafting-wax
must be applied to the edges. If the
tuber be potted and put in heat- under
glass, the bud which is not to be covered
with earth will push. A growing shoot
instead of a bud may be inserted iu a
later period of the year, when the
natural season for the vegetation of
these plants has arrived.
S
A SHADOW ON THE ROOF.
77
A SHADOW ON THE ROOF.
BY LEWIS MYRTLE.
HOME is a foretaste of Heaven ! At
least, so I could not help thinking,
while the fire-dogs glowed with the
bright flame that jetted against their
ruddy cheeks.
I had been musing on the endless
chances there were in a man's life ; the
varied views we take, as we get on ; the
ceaseless turmoil that bewilders us;
and the greedy scramble that jostles
us this way and that : and I thought
there was left us one nook of safety,
where the maddest world-storms can-
not reach. My heart grew grateful ;
and my fancies ran on at once to weave
into the tapestry of my thoughts the
picture of the Home Spot, that always
melts us into love.
Everybody looks forward to the time
when he shall have a HOME. No mat-
ter what it is, or where the spot ; no
matter how rich or how poor; the
golden atmosphere that hangs about the
name of Home, is the medium through
which we view the object itself. A
garret or a palace ; a hovel or a hall ;
pinching poverty, or wasteful wealth ;
to our hearts it 'is ever the same. Only
let it be home. The name itself is a
magnet; and ail our brightest hopes,
like glittering steel-filings, are caught
up by it as an instinct. It binds us by
cords that are stronger than bands of
iron ; by mystic powers above all
worldly rules, beyond all systems, ir-
resistible, and ever-enduring. What
statutes so binding as the unwritten
code of the fireside !
1 drew a picture of an odd little
moss-speckled roof, dropped down in a
clump of living green. It was all
walled in with dense leaves and flowers.
Vines clambered to the eaves, twining
leafy garlands about the columns on
their Wciy, and hanging trembling
bunches of blossoms just over my
head. Honeysuckles poured rich
streams of fragrance nto the little
parlour from out their ruby goblets ;
and gadding sprays burst through thfe
opened window in upon the floor. A
neat piazza belted the building, around
which grew an intertwisted lattice of
leafy shelter. There was a low and
broad bench on the piazza, where three
might comfortably sit in the cool of
the summer evenings, and drink in the
exhilarating draught that drew through
the screen.
A lawn of the deepest emerald
stretches down to the road, threaded
by but a single walk, on either side of
which the rich turf rolls itself up in
smooth and full ridges. Clumps of
syringas stand like sentries here and
there, and the air is loaded with their
sweet fragrance a dwarf fir on one
side, and a dwarf fir on the other. No
tawdry-looking flower-beds, laid out at
such pains to catch the vacant eye ; no
gaudy and glaring flowers, to inspire
only discontent by their contrast with
the unpretending green around them:
only wild - roses, honeysuckles,
trumpet-creepers, and luxuriant wood-
bines. They fling a leafy veil all over
the spot. They wreathe the posts;
shadow the light screen ; fringe the
casements; hide the rough angles of
carpentry ; and thatch the low roof with
their ten thousand leaves.
Behind this little homestead, that
now seems to rise out of the living
wood-coals before me, there is a care-
fully plotted garden ; where the squash-
vines run right over the mellow soil,
and on the rough back of the old stone
wall ; and bees keep up their busy hum
all through the summer day among the
yellow squash-blossoms; and the airy
aumming-bird daintily sips honey and
dew from the white scarlet bean-blos-
soms ; and the green and plump currants
hang in myriad clusters, for the length
of the garden avenue.
A little gate swings back at your
touch, and shuts itself as you enter. A
clean and hard walk conducts you to
the extreme end of the ground. There
are no terraces ; no grounds ; nor low-
ands; nor miry, swampy places. It
s all an unbroken plain, into which you
can almost step from your kitchen door.
It is your little kitchen farm; and the
owner of a thousand acres boasts not
78
A SHADOW OX THE ROOF.
more of hi pa, than you do of
your little stores.
What phalanxes of fruit trees ! The
rich damsons look plump and pulpy, in
among the leaves ; and white, and red,
and black cherries are bursting out in
bunches from the limbs ; and pears, that
will soon moisten your palate with their
delicious juices, are swelling, and
softening, and ripening in the sun ; and
smooth-cheeked peaches are beginniug
to wear their mo^t tempting blushes, as
the down begins to wear away; and the
luscious greenings are thrusting their
round heads through their glossy leaves,
to get a word of commendation from
their owner ; and the grapes are form-
ing in long clusters on the vines that
run over yonder trellised arbour.
A neat row of white hives is sheltered
from the cutting edge of the north wind
by the wall, out from which streams a
steady line of little labourers all through
the day. They buzz in the squash-blos-
soms, and hum drowsily about the bean-
flowers. They people the cherry, and
plum, and ruddy apple-blows, and wing
their way over into the adjacent field,
where the sweet white-clover blooms,
and beds of thyme breathe out their
balm. All day long they keep at their
work ; up before you in the morning,
and hardly quiet when you loiter in
your garden at evening. "Their street
is never silent or deserted, while Sum-
mer reigns in the fields and gardens.
You own a rich meadow beyond that
pasture, and the grass is already rolling
like waves in the sweeping breeze.
Your heart swells to see it glistening so
in the sun ; and you confess to yourself,
that there is a secret joy in the very
thought that it is yours. A few trees
dot the pasture-land, and patient cows
stand chewing their cuds, and stamping
their hoofs, in the shade. They look
mildly at you, as you pass, but never
stop grinding the cud. You almost
wonder if they, like yourself, have
' sweet and bitter fancies ! "
A belt of wood bounds your pastu-
rage on the north side, where you often
go with your young wife, on these balmy
mornings in ,1 une ; and gather primroses
and violets, or saunter thoughtfully in
the shadows. A thousand memories
your lips cannot fashion into expres-
sion, hang up, like golden fruitage,
among those old tree-boughs, and
linger about the ai.sliv. You feel that
you know
" Each lane, and every alley greeni
Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood,
And every bosky bourn from side to side,
Your daily walks, and ancient neigh-
bourhood."
A noisy brook riots through the soli-
tude, curling its waters darkly beneath
some gnarled old root, and leaping up
to kiss the leaves of the wild vines that
dangle from the branches. It washes
over shining pebbles, slips between
rank sedges, upon a muddy bed, steals
softly through the emerald turf, and
rattles off with a gay laugh, and a saucy
clapping of its hands, down by the fence,
and away through the low meadow.
Home, thought I, taking a new start
in my musings, is not altogether with-
out doors ; and, with this thought, I
began to paint the inner Home Life,
that fuses all our thoughts, in its mystic
crucible, into thoughts of Love.
A wife ! a young wife, all love !
The little cottage is full of sunshine.
There never, surely, were suck smiles
before ; never such musical laughter,
bubbling all the way up from the heart.
She reads to you when you are restless
and ill ; and you read to her in turns
when she is weary with the never-
broken round of household cares. She
watches your breathing, when you are
curtained in the sick-room; binds up
your head with damp and cool band-
ages ; places a wine-glass of fresh flowers
on the little stand beside your bed ; and
talks to you in the low music of her
soft and melting voice.
She is as airy as the sprite, and as
graceful as a fawn ; yet she is none too
ethereal to repay your love with genial
sympathy, and welcome words, and
patient, self-denying deeds. She does
her hair in papers to please your boyish
whim, but never breaks a link of the
chain that binds her heart to the Home
A SHADOW OX THE ROOF.
79
Hearth. She chats with you of Mon-
taigne, and Shakespere, and Spencer,
and sweet Jeremy Taylor ; and drinks
in your syllables, when you talk to her
of " Cordelia, and Corinne, of Jean
Jacques, and Coleridge, and Keats.
And she always dresses so charmingly,
too ! Nothing can surpass, for sweet
and unpretending grace, those summer
morning costumes, in which she trips
out through the open door, and slips
her dainty hand through your arm for
an early walk. Her throat is as fair as
the fairest alabaster; and the scarlet
just tinges her cheeks with matchless
beauty; and as she looks at you so
lovingly from out those large, dark,
dreamy eyes, you almost unconsciously
draw her closer to your side, and press
your lips to the forehead of your child-
wife.
It is home wherever she is. If you
stroll with her down the green lane,
chasing the playing sun-blotches that
fall on your path your cottage, and all
its wealth, is in the lane with you.
Without her, it is home nowhere. You
seem to lose your reckoning. The
sun is blotted out of the sky. You
grope your way. The birds do not sing.
You see no flowers, nor silver- winged
insects nor gaudy butterflies. Your
heart swells with misgivings for her,
lest some impossible harm has come
nigh her. And your spirits grow weary
and faint ; and your thoughts brood in
desolate places ; and your hold on life
grows weaker and weaker; till you
catch her smile again in the low door-
way, or fling your arms around her at
the little wicket.
Home is Heaven say you to your-
self, as you draw off your boots at even-
ing, and in slippered feet sit down to
hear the simple story of her day's life.
She draws her chair beside your own
and looks alternately in the glowing
rfire, and your delighted eyes.
Foolish little creature ! you tell her;
she sees only herself in your eyes ! It
is conceit !
And she will shake her head at you
so playfully, and lay her little white
hand over your mouth so lovingly,
and in such a childish tone, tell you
that you are her *' naughty boy, ' that
she makes you love her ten times the
more, in very spite of yourself.
As you sit before the gleaming
hearth, you read to her from large
books of travels, or from charming and
simple poems, or from some sad and
| touching tales; and when you suddenly
look up, you unexpectedly see the tears
swimming in her eyes. You stop to
ask her what it is that so saddens her ;
but the sunshine instantly breaks out
in the midst of the April rain, and she
only laughs at you for your inquisitive
folly. And then you tell her, half
j seriously and half in jest, that woman
i is just what she is now half smiles,
I and the other half tears. For your
impudence you get a kiss, and struggle
valiantly to free yourself from her em
brace. But your release is only on con-
dition that she is excepted from your
remark. And in a sudden impulse
again, you confess that there is no
truth at all in the libel you have just
uttered.
Your friends wonder how it is, that
some men can stumble on such a mine
of happiness as you have : and in the
midst of their compliments and self-
reproaches, they get urgent invitations
to visit you as often as they will. And
then they protest, that your dear Mag-
gie is so charming ; and has so much
grace ; and presides at table with such
simple dignity ! They will tell you,
when you stroll with them out on the
piazza, they would have married long
ago, if they could only have been as
sure of
You interrupt them at this point.
You know that it had better remain
unspoken. It is flattery you can bear
little better than Maggie herself.
Your relations come a great way to
see you in your new and quiet home ;
some to congratulate some to advise
and forewarn and some to study out
secret weaknesses. But they are all
alike melted by the magic of her simple
and earnest love. Their cynical sylla-
bles die on their lips. They forget all
their own perplexities, in the sunshine
of your complete happiness. They
even become envious, and almost tell
A SHADOW ON THE ROOF.
you so. But that they need not do :
you can read it in their looks.
Magde is perfection they say to
then:- man have
a better wife. Never found man a
truer one.
But she is only a child !
Ah ! would they, then, rob you of
the untold wealth of her early love
of the fragrance of her freshest feel-
ings of the dew, of which you found
IK r young heart so full '\ Can there be
no love, except the fruit of policy no
marriages, but those of convenience
no heart-riches, save those of yeai-s ?
Is your child-wife any the less a woman,
because her love is so undivided any
the less a helpmeet, because she is such
an innocent any the less a blessing,
because she knows the world only
through you ?
]\Iust our hearts be torn, and seared,
and probed, and worn with the iron,
before we can learn to love ? Doth pro-
founder happiness lie in the broad ways
of world-wisdom, than broods all along
the by-ways of innocence ? Can any
statutes limit the impulses of the heart
that is early inclined to love? Can there
DC no maturity, then, even in childish-
ness ? no bliss, except it be embittered
with the aloes of a cruel experience ?
You reason your heart into conclu-
sions that abundantly satisfy you,
and leave yournear-sighted relations to
conclude what they will. So you are
but strengthened in your happiness, and
grounded in your hope of the future,
it is enough. They do not see through
your eyes. Their hearts do not throb
like yours. They would laugh at you
remorselessly for your fine sentiments ;
and tell you, with a profoundly wise
wag of their heads, Love isn't bread
and buttt i' !
But what of that? What care you ?
You retort to yourself, of course,
But what blessing would bread and
butter be without Love ? And you
stoutly resolve, laying aside the tender-
ness of you* feelings for the moment,
that you wiTl make your Home Life a
deep sermon for these blind relations ;
and that each year shall be a new and
brighter page for them to peruse.
Your and your wife's heart are
knit by a new tie : stronger, deeper,
fuller, than any you have yet known.
She shows you her infant ; and begs,
by the tender looks of her moistened
eyes, that you will love it for her sake.
Ay, you respond, and for its
own, too !
It is a girl. It comes to you like an
angel in a dream. It lias the innocent,
yet mysterious smile of a seraph. Yon
lean over it while it sleeps, and your
heart goes up to God in a psalm of
thanksgiving.
A new root has struck into the lu-art-
soil. You feel that you must watch it
patiently, and guard it with the tender-
est solicitude. It is a part of your child-
wife ; it is a part of yourself. Your
souls have been knit mysteriously toge-
ther, and this is the new form they have
taken. Oh, how you yearn towards it
already ! Ho\v you wish it could
receive into itself the crowded feelings
that swell your heart ! How you desire
that you could read the hidden history
of its spirit life, and satisfy yourself
that it is really an offshoot from your
own soul ! And yet, there hangs a
strange feeling about you, that it can be
no other than the twin soul of yourself
and your dear Maggie.
" A babe in a house is a well-spring of plea-
sure."
So the poet tells you, and so your
heart believes. The countenance of
your wife tells you so. Her cares arc
doubled ; but her troubles are divided.
Your sympathies are instinctively more
ready, and full, and effective, for her ;
and the burdens, in consequence, only
become the lighter. She does not now
stop so often to humour your little ca-
prices ; but your caprices, you find,
have all vanished. You do not now
exact so much of her precious time.
You readily give it all up to another.
Ay, and you give up very much of
your own precious time, too.
The little cottage was full of sun-
shine before : now it i.s all ablaze. A
new life has begun within it. A myste-
rious germ has suddenly shot up be-
neath the little roof-tree. What was
before only a pictured fancy has now
A SHADOW ON THE ROOF.
81
become a living fact. Your tenderness
has budded into a palpable form. Your
love has become impersonated Myste-
ries are expanding and ripening into
experiences. The wealth of your heart
you can now hold in your hands. And
.still the mystery lurks in the revela-
tion ; and the dream sleeps in the
reality ; and the spirit does not alto-
gether reveal itself in the living form.
You catch only bright and broken
glimpses; the brighter, because broken.
And this is the study that Heaven
has given your heart. It will surely
serve to perplex you more and more,
every day of your life; and the more
accustomed to your outward senses it
becomes, the less will your heart have
learned of its real nature. And it is by
so divine a mystery, that God has pro-
mised to keep yt>ur heart full of joy,
while yet it continues to hunger for
more.
But time does not stop for your
happiness. It rather seems envious of
your possession.
What a calm, quiet day is the day of
the Christening ! How sweetly your
little cherub looks in that snowy lace
cap ! And how she makes all the spec-
tators smile, as she throws out her
chubby hands, and. with bubbling syl-
lables, looks up so earnestly into the
face of the white-robed clergyman !
How the soft air of the morning, the
fragrant drifts from the clustering roses
and clumps of lilacs, and the mellow
warmth of the bright sunshine, all
help to swell the joy of your heart, till
it seems that it must at length overflow
in tears !
The baby goes before, in the arms of
the maid ; and Maggie, now dearer to
you than ever, leaning on your arm,
follows close behind. Your spirits are
all in a glow. You scent the blossoms,
and tell your wife how ravishiugly
sweet they are to the senses, though
she knows it quite as well as yourself.
You look up into the stainless bos Dm
of the sky, and down again to the
earth. Your eyes chase swarming but-
terflies, and you fancy for the moment
that the flowers have taken wings.
You peep over into neighbouring gar-
dens, and across rolling lawns. And
then your eyes come back to your wife
again, and you draw her still closer to
your side.
" Be careful not to stumble !" you
caution the maid.
Maggie releases herself from your arm
for a moment, and takes a few hasty
steps forward to see that the child is
safe. She lays her own cambric kerchief
over its face, that the garish sunlight
may not weaken its eyes, and is at
your side again.
You ask yourself if ever two
loving hearts were so happy before !
Your little Alice soon becomes the
pet of the whole neighbourhood. Chil-
dren drop in at the cottage on their way
to school, and ask to see "the baby."
And maids from distant houses bring
other babies to see this beautiful wonder
of yours ; and you laugh till you cry,
to see the inexpressibly wise looks with
which they will regard each other. You
catch her up, in one of your sudden im-
pulses, and toss her quite to the ceiling ;
and she will be so full of glee with your
playful effort, that her fat little arms
will instantly go up to you again, for a
repetition of the fun.
Books ! what are books to you :\'jw ?
There is not a tithe of the life on all
their pages, that you read every moment
in the face of your own offspring. And
how burdensome become your daily
duties, at thinking of the hours that
must elapse before you can see your
idol child again. How heavily lag the
moments between morning and after-
noon. You quite begrudge time of the
happiness of which it is robbing you.
No weary, heart-saddened school-boy
ever looked forward more wistfully to
his dismissal.
Your child at length syllables
your name " papa !"
What a fresh joy !
To feel that you are recognised by a
new spirit ; that your very smiles are
at last rightly interpreted ; that your
love is beginning to bud and blossom in
the warmth of home !
To know that your day-dreams are
faster and faster ripening into realities ,
that what you once regarded as a beau-
A SHADOW OX THE ROOF.
tiful myth, is every day becoruin
a fable ; that the ripe, red bud, is
steadily coming through the parted
leaves !
Xr\vr \vos there such a child
before ! >" there
so devoted a father. You carry it to the
door in your arms, and let its ruthless
little hands crush the swinging bells of
the fragrant columbines. You teach it
to creep about upon the thick carpet,
pushing before it smooth and red-lipped
.ells. You teach it to pick open
your lips with its playful fingers, and
reward it by a song beginning with
"Bah ! bah ! black sheep !" You blow
iisses into its dimpled neck, till it
hiccoughs for violent laughter.
As you sing it to sleep it will open
family its drowsy lids, and hum with a
~baby discord the last syllables of your
lullaby. And when it has finally sunk
into deep slumber, you gaze long and
earnestly upon its passionless face, and
silently pray God it may long keep your
heart as fresh and pure as it is at this
moment. And then your dear Maggie
comes into the room, and looks into
the shaded face, and whispers, as if in
the holiest confidence to you " She's
asleep !"
Maggie prepares the cradle, and into
its depth you carefully lay your trea-
sure. It partly turns its head, as you
move to lay it down but the sleep is
unbroken. Your wife throws a long
veil over its face, and you both leave
the room together.
And are there any noisy world-
joys, that usurp the reign of a man's
heart, at all comparable to so simple a
joy as this ? Sleeps there anywhere a
fountain so full of sweet and clear
waters as here ? Can a man from any
source so readily bring down the fer-
tilising dew of heaven upon the soil
of his heart ? Is busy street-life as
fruitful in deep and abiding happiness,
as this innocent, almost child-like Home
Life ? Doth the ring of dollars echo
one half as pleasantly as the ring of
your musical baby-laugh?
Tell me, busy world-schemer, if all
your successful speculations can com-
pensate your inner heart for the remorse
that must ever gnaw, when you reckon
up the few short hours you spend at
your hearth ? if tlu> hollow voices of
men do not mock all your hopes, when
a swift memory of Home rushes over
your brain * if the fruits of success do
not turn to dry ashes on the lips of en-
joyment, as your heart reproaches you
with their uncounted cost ?
But the scene suddenly shifts.
You are in the little nursery. The cur-
tains are all closely drawn, and the
light is subdued and sombre.
Your angel-child lies on the bed.
Her face is burning with feverish fires.
Her hands are hot, and her head throbs
with the fever. But her lips are
parched and colourless. The dreamy
eye has lost its lustre. She tosses her
hands about restlessly, and murmurs
faint and broken syllables. Her breath-
ing is short, and fearfully quick.
You bend over the bed, and lay your
own cheek close to her hot cheek, and
ask her, in a sad whisper, if she is very
sick as if she could catch the meaning
of your words. But she interprets the
caress, though the words go unheeded
by her.
Maggie stands by you, and you gaze
long and anxiously at your child to-
gether. You both tremble, to see that
the expression has died out from her
eyes. You fear far more than you dare
trust to words, when you behold their
growing glassiness. Your wife stoops
down and kisses the child's forehead,
and gently smooths back its straggling
hair, and talks mournfully to it of sick-
ness, and tells it, tremulously, she hopes
it will soon be better again.
You cannot stay to listen, and to
witness, longer. Your eyes are grow-
ing moist, and you dash away a glitter-
ing tear, as you glide swiftly through
the door.
The doctor meets you on the embow-
ered little piazza. He is a kind and
gentle man, and you place full confi-
dence in his skill.
" Doctor," you say, " save my child !"
He has not a word for you in reply,
but walks steadily in. There is a ter-
rible earnestness in his tread. It smites
upon your sore heart fearfully. You
A SIIADOW ON THE ROOF.
have not the courage to follow after
him, but remain on the little bench on
the piazza. The moments seem like
hours to you. You wish he would
return again, and yet you have not the
heart to go back and learn the fate of
your offspring. You dread to hear even
the best, fearing it may be the worst.
Again in the nursery.
Your darling child is dead just
gone !
Oh ! was ever such woe !
Maggie throws herself upon your
breast, and buries her face from your
sight. You hear her low moans, and
feel the deep, strong throes of her
agony. Now it is that you feel the
need of a strong arm on which to lean
yourself.
But you have no words. They would
but vainly mock your grief. Your sor-
rows are dumb ; they cannot find their
way to your lips. Nothing now but
silence and sobs and tears.
You gaze at the f;ice of your dead
child, standing by the bedside, and
your grief looms up big and gloomy be-
fore you. You cast off your hold on
life altogether. The bud has been
blasted before it had time to round into
the fulness of maturity.
But another moan from your equally
bereaved wife recalls you to yourself;
and you now feel that you are bound
to her by a double bond, that will grow
stronger through your lifetime. You
keep your eyes, however, still fixed upon
your dead child ; and the sad lines of
the Poet sing in your sadder heart :
-'There is no fold, however watched and
tended,
But one dead lamb is there ;
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair."
It is as bright and balmy a
morning in summer as ever dawned'.
The odours of the lilacs and labur-
nums float through the open window
into the little parlour.
There is a dense crowd in the rooms ;
and people loiter about the outer doors,
talking in low tones. Everything looks
dark and fearful, and forbidding. The
crowd seems but a bank of gloom.
A little coffin, polished and smooth,
stands upon the table in the middle of
the room. Its lid is laid back, and your
dead child's face is upturned to your
own : but the light has gone out of the
beautiful eyes, and the prattle has died
for ever on the pale lips.
A few white snow-drops are strewn
over the coffin : and mothers lift their
blue-eyed children in their arms, and let
them look in silence at the face of the
little corpse.
And parents, who have been them-
selves bereaved, strive to keep down the
choking sensation in their throats, and
turn suddenly away with their eyes full
of blinding tears.
They sing a hymn. Your young wife
now all the world to your bleeding
heart leans heavily the while against
you, and sobs as if she would not be
comforted. You draw her closer
closer to you. Oh, how much more
deep is your love for her now ! How
much stronger is the bond that has
been strained with sorrow.
Back again from the silent ceme-
tery. Little Alice you have left behind
you.
The house is deserted. Your wife
has thrown herself upon the bed, and
buried her face deeply in the pillows.
You enter the little parlour. How
silent ! How sad are all the voices of
the summer morning as they reach you
through the open windows !
You seat yourself by one of the
j windows, and pluck leaf after leaf of
the vine that shelters it. How deso-
late ! How deserted ! "Was ever trial
like this I
You wonder why your heart was
schooled so mysteriously to love, and
then cruelly crushed with such a weight
of grief. You think there must be
something wrong in the ordering of
events, and your untutured heart broods
over unformed rebellion against God's
goodness, The agony is so great, that
you become, temporarily, its victim.
And then there comes slowly,
after long reflection, after fervid prayer,
a recollection of your heart's earlier
desire ; a remembrance of your earnest
hope, that your infant might be the
A. SHADOW ON THE ROOF.
means of keeping your heart full, and
fi'ft</i, aiul/ree.
A golden gleam of consolation breaks
through the clouds that beset y> mi-
sou!. A bright ray of litfht cuuu-s
daucing across the dark and troubled
waters of your heart. You remember
your early prayer, uttered when this
angel-child first began to grow into the
heart of your nature ; and you believe
that the prayer reached Heaven !
All through your lifetime now, little
Alice will ever be your CHILD. She
will add nothing to her years in your
memory. Her image, enshrined in your
heart, will keep it ever fresh and young,
through the silent lapse of years. And
when you lie down to die yourself,
weary, and worn, and heart-broken
with the world's selfishness, you will
be consoled beyond all measure with
the hope of regaining your child again :
the same gentle, pure, spotless child
that has been for years so mysteriously
drawing you to her with the golden-
linked memory of her brief existence !
Maggie lays her head upon your
shoulder, and you weep together for
deep and unutterable joy.
THE CONTRADICTORY COUPLE.
" I DO believe," said the husband,
taking his spoon out of his glass, and
tossing it on the table, " that of all the
obstinate, wrong-headed creatures that
ever were born, you are the most so,
Charlotte."
" Certainly, certainly; have your own
way, pray. You see how much I con-
tradict you/' rejoined the lady.
"Of coarse you didn't contradict me
at the dinner-table ; oh no ! not you ?"
says the gentleman.
" Yes, I did," says the lady.
" Oh ! you did ! " cries the gentle-
man. " You admit that ?"
'*' If you call that contradiction, I do,"
the lady answers ; " and I say again,
Edward, that when I am wrong, I will
contradict you. I am not your slave."
" Not my slave ! " repeats the gen-
tleman, bitterly ; " and you still mean
to say that in Blackburn's new house
.ire no more than fourteen doors,
iucludiug the wine-cellar."
" I mean to say," retorts the lady,
beating time with her hair-brush on the
palm of her hand, " that iu that house
there are just fourteen doors, and no
more."
" Vfell, then," says the gentleman,
rising and pacing the room with rapid
strides; "this is enough to destroy a
man's intellect, and drive him mad."
By-and-by the gentleman comes to a
little, and reseats himself in his former
chair. There is a long silence, and this
time the lady begins.
'" I appeal to Mr. Jenkins, who sat
next to me on the sofa, in the drawing-
room, during tea."
" Morgan, you surely mean," inter-
rupts the gentleman.
" I do not mean anything of the
kind," answers the lady.
" Now, by all that is aggravating and
impossible to bear," cries the gentle-
man, clenching his hands, and looking
up in agony, " she is going to insist upon
it that Morgan is Jenkins."
" Do you take me for a perfect fool,"
exclaims the lady. " Do you suppose I
don't know that the man in the blue
coat was Mr. Jenkins ?"
"Jenkins with a blue coat?" cries
the gentleman with a groan ; " Jenkins
in a blue coat ? a man who would suf-
fer death rather than wear anything but
brown."
" Do you dare charge me with telling
an untruth ?" demands the lady, burst-
ing into tears.
" I charge you, ma'am," retorts the
gentleman, starting up, " with being a
monster of contradiction a monster of
aggravation a a a Jenkins in a
blue coat ! What have I done that I
should be doomed to hear such state-
ments ?"
KNOWLEDGE of our duties is the most
useful part of philosophy.
MEASURE your life by acts of good-
ness, not by yeai-s.
RECEIVE blessings with thankfulness,
and afflictions with resignation.
THE best practical moral rule is never
to do what we should at any time be
ashamed of.
VALUE a good conscience more than
CONTENTMENT BETTER THAN WEALTH.
85
CONTENTMENT BETTER THAN
WEALTH.
IT was towards the close of a de-
lightful day, early in the month of
September, that a splendid equipage
was seen approaching a small village,
situated about thirty miles from the
metropolis. It contained but two per-
sons, one an elderly gentleman of stern
and commanding appearance, the other
a lady apparently about eighteen, whose
pallid cheek betokened absente of
health, though the calm and gentle ex-
pression which dwelt upon her finely-
cut features rendered her an object of
interest, if not of loveliness. They
were for a long time silent, both ap-
parently occupied in deep thought.
At length the gentleman turned sud-
denly towards his daughter for such
she was and regarding her for a mo-
ment with a look of affectionate inte-
rest, said :
"Emma, my dear, you seem fatigued.
Will not this day's ride be too much
for you ? "
" Oh no, father," replied the lady,
" your fears render me doubly the in-
valid that I am. This delightful coun-
try air will soon cause new life to thrill
through every vein. Come for me in a
few weeks, and you will find your
Emma the same wild, sunburnt crea-
ture that used to romp and sing among
the old trees that sui-round our beau-
tiful home in the valley of the Con-
necticut."
" Heaven grant it may be so ! The
situation I have chosen is every way
calculated to gratify your rural taste.
There, see as we turn the angle in the
road, it is plainly visible that fine old
mansion, with its spacious, airy apart-
ments, which open in the rear upon
what looks to us like an impenetrable
forest, but you will find it filled with
innumerable walks, which intersect
each other at every turn, where you
can wander at will, and dream of ro-
mance and nonsense to your heart's
content ; but mind you, Emma, not of
love you see I dread a rival in the
affections of my darling. But here we
are, and here's Abby in the door, wait-
ing to welcome us, and a dreary time
she will tell you she has had of it these
two days, in this dark old place, with-
out her young mistress."
Mrs. Howard, the kind hostess, with
her two daughters, Celia and Julia, fol-
lowed the faithful old nurse in her
welcome greeting, and ere many days
had passed those dark old woodlands
resounded with the merry shouts of
laughter which sent the timid birds
soaring high above their forest home,
alarmed at such evident manifestations
of life in their hitherto quiet domain.
Her father saw everything arranged
for her comfort, and then left her to
the care of Abby, the faithful nurse,
who had watched over her from ctild-
hood with a mother's care, while he re-
turned to the city, where his extensive
business demanded his presence, for he
was one whose idol was gold.
He believed it the talisman which
would ensure happiness, and his whole
life had been one struggle for its at-
tainment. The world gave him credit
for success, but in this, as in many
other instances, it judged not rightly.
Though he had commenced business
with a handsome fortune, yet repeated
losses, joined with an expensive style
of living, had long ere now consumed
it, and nothing but his established re-
putation as a man of wealth had pre-
i vented his creditors from becoming
i clamorous. He had married, too, a
young and lovely wife, though less for
her personal attractions, and inesti-
mable worth, than the noble fortune
which she brought him. That, too,
was gone ; and she, the pure, the
lovely, and the innocent, whose fate
had been thus unequally linked with
that proud, imperious man, rested be-
neath the wild flowers of her own
loved grove. Such had been her re-
quest.
" She would rest," she said, "where
the din of business could not reach her,
and where the timid birds might chaunt
her requiem, and the wild flowers grow
unmolested upon her grave."
And her wish was gratified. The
favourite haunt of her early years be-
came her final resting-place; and
around the rich and costly monument
CONTENTMENT BETTER THAN WEALTH.
which rose above her tomb, the wild
flowers wreathed their tendrils, and
shed their . :'ume ; while the
mournful chauutiug uf the niL'ht bird,
joined with the rustling of the trees
above, seemed indeed a fit requiem for
the depaii
By Mr. Morrison this blow was se-
verely felt. Though affection had been
but a minor inducement to the amour,
, lauiant indeed must have been
that heart her kindness had not won ;
and the union which was at first one of
interest, at length became one of affec-
tion. But now she was gone, and
Em^ia, his only child, became the ob-
ject around which his affections cen-
tred. Her happiness lay nearest his
heart, and believing as he did that it
was dependent on wealth, his anxiety
to gain it for her sake increased in pro-
portion with his affection, till it be-
came his ruling passion. Sundry means
were devised to secure an independence
for his daughter, when he felt the found-
ation of his own fortune crnmbling to
atoms ; but all seemed likely to fail,
and now, as with a last forlorn hope, he
turned to the one last expedient, that
of selling his darling child for gold !
Could he but see her independence se-
cured by a wealthy alliance, he could
summon the cold philosophy of his
own proud heart to his support, and
retiring within himself, live upon the
frowns of the world, whose favours he
no longer sought to court.
Sick of the contest, the turmoil and
strife, with which he had been sur-
rounded since his first entrance upon
the stage of manhood, and knowing no
higher source from which to seek en-
joyment, no wonder his selfish heart
became frozen, and every kind impxiLse
which his love for Emma had called
up, smothered amid the darkness in
which it had found birth. Then won-
der not, kind reader, that in choosing
a husband for his daughter, the ingots
of gold which his coffers contained
were his first and most important con-
sideration; and in Mr. Henderson, one
of Emma's most devoted admirers, he
fondly looked for a realisation of his
wishes.
The possessor of a princely fortune,
which he inherited from his father,
with a character tarnished by no posi-
tive vices nor polished by virtues
o-ither and a person which, in his own
opinion, w; .^nted
himself as a competitor for her hand,
with every assurance of success ; what,
then, was his surprise at receiving a
decided negative to his proposals, which
he formally and with due ceremony
forwarded by letter to Emma in her
retirement ! He had previously taken
the precaution to procure her father's
consent, and to him he immediately
repaired, deeply chagrined and disap-
pointed, not so much from unrequited
affection as mortified pride. Her for-
mer indifference he had attributed to
timidity, but the open and candid man-
ner of her refusal left him no room to
hope for success, independent of the
influence of her father. But he could
not, without an effort, relinquish so
desirable an appendage to his own dear
self as Emma and her imaginary for-
tune would constitute. He should be
so envied by all his acquaintances ; and
then she would be such a queen in his
magnificent house, and lend such a
charm to his splendid entertainments ;
and, more than all, she was the only
one among the fair circle of his ac-
quaintance who had looked coldly upon
him, and pride revolted at the idea that
he, who had hitherto been invincible,
should thus tamely yield to a capri-
cious beauty.
For a moment Mr. Morrison sat grave
and thoughtful should she persist in
her determination, poverty must be
their lot but she would not : his will
had ever been her law, and she surely
would not resist it now ; but she con-
cealed her feelings, and calmly assured
him of his influence, and her ready
acquiescence to his will. Emma soon
returned to her home. The father,
impatient for the consummation of an
event which he felt to be so necessary,
hastened her return, as her letters
spoke of renewed health and buoyant
spirits. She left her humble friends
with evident regret gladly would she
have lingered with them, in their dear
CONTENTMENT BETTER THAN WEALTH.
87
forest home, through the sweet autumn
months.
In Celia she had found a fit associate
and confiding friend. Intelligent and
amiable, her society was no less courted
for the pleasure, than for the instruc-
tion it afforded ; and the sprightliness
and childish simplicity of Julia de-
lighted and interested her. But there
was one other she regretted to leave
more than those.
Frederick Clifton had won her first
pure love, and they only waited for
the consent of her father ere they
plighted their vows of mutual faith
and constancy. She first learned to
love him as she sat beneath the roof
of their unpretending village church,
listening to the truths which he de-
clared with such force and clearness ;
and, in their future intercourse, she
learned to revere him as a being but
little lower than the angels.
In her first interview with her father
he alluded to the proposals which he
was aware she had received from Mr.
Henderson, and expressed his wish that
she should accept them. In vain did
she plead her want of affection, and
the impossibility of happiness with such
a man.
(f It must be so," he said ; " my word
is passed, and I cannot recal it."
" Love him I cannot, and never will I
sacrifice my happiness by a union with a
man I despise. By so doing I am not
unmindful of the duty I owe you as a
daughter, neither would I be unmindful
of that I owe to Him above, in whose
sight I could but plead guilty were I to
bestow my hand on one for whom I
feel neither respect nor affection."
" Emma, you know not what you do
would you see your father a beggar ?
Would you yourself become a dependent
on the bounty of others ? If so, persist
in your course, and you will be gratified.
^J e ) y u ma y learn to sue for favour at
the hand of him you now affect to
despise."
" What mean you, father ?"
" I mean as I say I am beggared. I
have not one guinea I can call my own,
and it remains with you that I continue
so. Accept the offered hand of him
who loves you, and wealth and happi-
ness will be the result."
" He loves me, say you, father ? Love
j me indeed he may, as the heiress of your
reputed wealth and honour ; but think;
you he would accept the hand of Emma
Morrison were it known she were penni-
"Ask not what he would accept
he claims it now, that is sufficient.''
" Wed a fool for his gold ! Oh,
father ! why did you teach me to wor-
ship the mind, not the man and his
possessions, if you wished me to play
the part you assign me ?"
" Then I thought myself indepen-
dent you the favoured child of for-
tune and should have been proud to
bestow you on the man of your choice,
though wealth had not been his : but
those times have passed, and now you
must secure your station through the
influence of a husband, or sink into
obscurity and misery."
"Poverty is not necessarily attended
by misery it has no terrors for me.
United to the man of my choice,
though humble and obscure his lot, I
shall be happy."
" Emma, answer me truly ; have
you ever seen one for whom you could
relinquish your present station in so-
ciety, and the luxuries with which you
have ever been surrounded ? "
" Yes, father, I have for whom I
would not only relinquish the luxu-
ries, but the comforts of life, were it
necessary."
" Foolish girl, you know not your
own heart ! You have seen too little
of the world and its hardships to-
brave them thus. I gave you credit
for more good sense. You will one
day thank me for forcing you to yield
to that which you regard with so-
much horror. I am not to be diso-
beyed," he added, assuming a fearful
sternness, " with impunity. One week
sees you the bride t of Mr. Henderson.
Prepare yourself to act accordingly;"
and he left her with a frown upon his
brow, such as she had never before
seen directed towards her.
That day it was announced that
the proud, the envied aristocratic
CONTENTMENT BETTER THAN WEALTH.
Mr. Morrison, was a bankrupt, and tin.
announcement brought joy at least to (
the heart of one, and that one hi.s own
daughter, for she deemed it but the
precursor of other intelligence assured
it was her reputed wealth more than
herself her tormenting suitor sought ;
and she was not mistaken, for the next
day brought with it an humble apo-
logy from Mr. Henderson for the un-
happiness he had caused her, begging
she would not distress herself further
on his account, as he could never think
of urging a suit which, he regretted to
learn, was .s > repugnant to her will. A
proud triumphant smile lit up her
features as she sought her father, into
whose presence she had not dared to
venture since he left her with that frown
upon his brow. She found him seated
in the library. A haughty, determined
expression dwelt upon every feature.
There he sat, motionless, and appa-
rently as insensible of all outward ob-
jects as the marble statues with which
he was surrounded. She paused as
she entered, awe-struck by the solemn
and death-like silence that prevailed,
and she half repented the errand on
which she came ; for the moment she
thought no sacrifice too great which
could add to the happiness of that
dearly-loved parent. He turned and
gazed coldly upon her, but deigned to
take no further notice of her presence.
She advanced tremblingly and placed
the letter in his hand.
He glanced hastily over its contents,
then, crushing it, flung it from him
with scorn.
Emma stood riveted to the spot, like
one who had been suddenly deprived
of power and will. At length the violence
of his rage gradually subsided, and
for a few moments he sat calm and
thoughtful ; then the overcharged foun-
tain of his heart gave way, and he wept.
Yes ! that proud man wept. He whose
nature was never before softened by ad-
versity, was now humble and contrite
as a child. Then came Emma's turn
for action. The sight of tears tears
upon her father's cheek called up every
tender emotion of her soul, and with a
calm and dignified demeanour, which
would not have disgraced one older in
years and experience than herself, she
advanced and poured words of consola-
tion into his ear. She told him of the
enjoyment to be found in a calm, se-
cluded life, arising from the conscious-
ness of having faithfully discharged the
duties which Heaven imposes on us.
It was a strange sight; that proud,
imperious man, humble even as a child
beneath its parent's reproving rod, and
that young and timid girl, advising, con-
soling, and reproving even the grey hairs
of age, with all the calm philosophy of
experienced maturity. And then he
drew her gently to his bosom ; and his
burning tears fell upon her brow as he
told her it was not for himself he wept,
for with him life's sun was nearly set,
but for her, the cherished idol of his
heart, whose fragile bark he must see
thus early launched upon the boisterous
tide of adversity, to anchor, perchance
in the haven of despair.
" Nay, father, speak not thus ; weep
not for me. While health affords the
means, our livelihood shall be nobly
earned not grudgingly, but with a
buoyant heart and right g< >d will,and
we shall yet be happy very, very happy.
Though humble be our "home, yet you
shall see that your daughter is not un-
skilled in those arts which render
even poverty endurable. You shall
learn that happiness depends not on
wealth not on the multiplicity of life's
blessings, but rather results from a pro-
per control of the passions and affections
with which a wise providence has en-
dowed us. Together will we study the
book of Nature, through that commu-
nion with Nature's God, combining the
rare delight of intellectual and heavenly
enjoyment with the sublunary cares and
duties in which we may be called to
bear a part ; and think you, father, that
we shall not yet be happy ? even hap-
pier than we have been here, amid all
the splendour with which we are sur-
rounded."
" You are a sweet enthusiast, Emma.
Heaven grant that your young heart be
not crushed by so rough a contact with
this cold world, of which you know so
little. You have many bitter lessons
CONTENTMENT BETTER THAN WEALTH.
b'-j
yet to learn. Where you look for kind-
ness and sympathy, you will meet with
cold neglect. You will too soon find
the distinction made between the
daughter of George Morrison the mil-
lionnaire,and George Morrison the bank-
rupt. If argument or proof of this be
needed, yonder crushed sheet would
rise as the first witness. 'Tis but the
first of a long list that will soon appear ;
perhaps in a manner less direct, but
still quite as convincing to your sensi-
tive feelings. Alas ! that it should
come to this ! I have struggled hard
to avert it, but to no avail. The only
heritage I can now bestow upon you is
an old man's blessing, and may Heaven's
richest gift accompany it. If there is
one, as you yesterday intimated, who
values the jewel I have so long guarded
for its own intrinsic value, I yield it to
him. I have too much confidence in
your judgment to think your affections
would be unworthily bestowed. Par-
don my harshness of yesterday. It was
the result of desperation to see my am-
bitious dreams thus crumbling to the
earth, like the baseless fabric of a vision !
'Twas a hard struggle; but 'tis over
now. Those dreams of happiness have
for ever flown, and I look not for peace
this side the grave ; but your young and
cheerful heart may yet pluck flowers
from what would prove to me but a bar-
ren stalk, and I would not, by any act
of mine, interlace them with the cruel
thorn and brier. I therefore consent
yea, more, I counsel you to bestow your
hand on him who has already the pos-
session of your heart."
"But, father, my home as well as
heart must be shared with you. It
would be but half a home were you ab-
sent. But the ordeal is not yet passed.
After the lesson of distrust you have
just taught me, I cannot reckon even
upon Frederick Clifton's constancy. He
was to come to-morrow to claim per-
mission to instal me as mistress of his
humble home, as he asserts I am now
of his affections ; but, perchance, instead
of himself a missive like yonder one
may appear. We shall see."
It is again autumn. Time, never
ceasing, never varying in its course,
has rolled onward and brought us,
after the lapse of three years, to the
threshold of that humble cottage.
Around it the richly-tinted leaves are
falling in beautiful and luxuriant pro-
fusion, while the night-bird is warbling
forth its tiny notes among the leafy
foliage, through which the mellow rays
of the rising moon just penetrate, and
then spreading onward and around,
illumine with dazzling brilliancy the
pellucid waters of that noble river, as
it flows away in soft murmui-s towards
the fathomless ocean.
Think you, dear reader, it will be an
unpardonable intrusion upon their re-
tirement, if with a gentle hand we push
aside the foliage, and join them in then-
evening devotions, though all unseen by
them ? Look at that old man, whose
bleached locks may perchance have seen
the frost of sixty winters, seated in an
easy chair, listening to the words of
truth as they fall from the lips of one
worthy to speak them. And that young
and lovely female, seated near them,
with her attention deeply fixed upon
the calm, good man; and as he lays
aside his book, and expatiates upon the
wisdom, justice, and mercy of the
Creator, her eye brightens, and the light
of inward, heartfelt happiness, irradiates
each feature. And as they kneel around
the altar dedicated to the worship of
Him above, with what fixed attention
does she listen to the deep, eloquent
prayer which falls from the lips of her
husband. That grey-haired man, too,
proud and haughty as is his nature, he
has learned humility even from his own
child ; and the deep fervour of his voice
and manner, as he, too, offers up his
evening orisons, betokens the chastened
feelings of a heart which has yielded to
the mild influence of Heaven's will.
See him now, as he imprints his ac-
customed good-night kiss upon the
cheek of his beloved Emma ; what does
his manner indicate ? Does it not tell
of peace ? Yea, more of enjoyment
of happiness pure, holy, passionless,
divine ?
I'Ll-ASAXT tVKNLNGS, &c.
UNCLE JOHN'S ENK,
COMZ, children, draw around the fire, and
AS your uncle John is here. h<> will describe to
joua wonder, v. hi oh you may study hereafter:
Now, Uncle John, be pleased to show,
"What gianta from the earth do grow ?
1. There is a giant lx>rn of earth.
2. Its parent died tefore its birth :
3. Though it partakes of vital breath,
4. It is the mighty child of death.
5. Its might is found where fire glows,
6. Its mildness where the water
7. Its native forms all o'er the globe,
8. Are found in autumn's golden robe.
9. Its essence is the purest sweets
10. Made bitter; and so arc its feats.
1 1. It has no tangible shape or form,
12. To every shape it can conform.
13. It has no colour but in flame,
14. And long it lived without a name ;
15. Though then it reigned in many a clime,
16. A king of boundless mirth and crime,
17. It fell the father of a world ;
18. Earth's victor to the dust it hurled.
1 9. In our days with many a guise,
20. The nations it can still entice ;
21. For royal /etes it has a charm,
22. It nerves the felon's murderous arn:.
23. It wafts in gentleness o'er the fields,
24. And to the grave rich harvest yields;
25. It gives to Britain mighty wealth,
26. But robs her more by quiet stealth.
27. It never fails to gender strife,
28. But has the fame of lenthening life,
29. Though war with blood has stained the
lands,
-30. Its victims form far larger band< :
31. With all its strength it cannot stand,
32. And can be mastered by the hand.
33. It never yet has killed a foe,
34. Though empires it did overthrow,
35. And though it has a boundless sway,
36. A thimble will hold it any day ;
37. Or should the air be warmed *a little,
38. It would escape in vapour subtle.
Now children, you may all be gone,
To solve this tale of Uncle John.
THE name of a tree that in England grows ;
A river next find that in Northampton flows;
A beautiful flower familiar to all,
A troublesome iasect exceedingly small ;
"What misers will always contrive to conceal,
And a delicate fruit which I shall not reveal.
The heads of these words will give Hint which
you
oubt have been puzzled at times to construe.
A PART of yourself, and part of a cow,
Pljtcv them together, you will have in view
A town on the Continent noted, ye fair,
For something which rovers a part of y,
hair. *
Is number we are fifty-tw.,.
A motley, quaint, and jovial crew ,
We go wherever fortune send-,
By some deemed foes, by others friends.
In festive scenes we oft are found,
In dissipation's halls abound ;
Four monarchies, with rogues in court,
Each in apparel of a sort ;
One makes his kingdom in the heart,
Another takes the delving part,
A third is armed quite savagely.
A fourth lights up the other three,
We have a pope, we have a deuce
I pray th' expression you'll excuse ;
Our commons have their apple seed ;
But 'stead of fruit a noxious weed
Springs up to choke the mind's best soil,
And a false pleasure proves fierce toil ;
A pack of wolves we fleece the sheep ;
And leave them wasted hours to reap.
IN a dungeon far beneath the ground
A Christian captive lay ;
His head was bent, his arms were bound
And 'midst the darkness all around
He earnestly did pray.
He thought of that loved but distant land,
He never more should see,
Where he used my first with skilful hand,
And turned my next, as he oft did stand
'Neath his lady's balcony.
Not long did the weary captive pine,
No ransom could he pay ;
My deadly whole round his neck they twine,
And obedient to their master's sign,
They took his life away.
ANSWERS TO CHARADES, ETC., PAGE 40.
1. Land-scape.
2. Labour.
Ann-ounce.
4. Drug-get.
r >. Ambition.
6. Off-end.
TABLE-TALK WITH ROGERS, THE POET.
91
"TABLE TALK" WITH ROGERS,
THE POET.*
<l BEFORE his going abroad, Garrick's
attraction had much decreased ; Sir
"William Weller Pepys said that the pit
was often almost empty. But, on his
return to England, people were mad
about seeing him ; and Sir George Beau-
mont and several others used frequently
to get admission into the pit, before the
doors were open to the public, by means
of bribing the attendants, who bade
them ' be sure, as soon as the crowd
rushed in, to pretend to be in a great
heat, and to wipe their faces, as if they
had just been struggling for entrance.'
" At the sale of Dr. Johnson's books,
I met General Oglethorpe, then very,
very old, the flesh of his face looking
like parchment. He amused us young-
sters by talking of the alterations that
iiad been made in London and of the
great additions it had received within
his recollection. He said that he had
shot snipes in Conduit-street ! By the
bye, General Fitzpatrick remembered the
time when St. James's-street used to be
crowded with the carriages of the ladies
and gentlemen who were walking in
the Mall, the ladies with their heads
in full dress, and the gentlemen carry-
ing their hats under their arms. The
proprietors of Ranelagh and Vauxhall
used to send decoy-ducks among them,
that is, persons attired in the height of
fashion, who every now and then would
exclaim in a very audible tone, ' What
chacmiug weather for Ranelagh,' or 'for
Vauxhall." * * I recollect when it was
still the fashion for gentlemen to wear
swords. I have seen Haydn play at,a
concert in a tie-wig, with a sword at his
side. * * I have gone to Ranelagh in a
coach with a lady who was obliged to
sit upon a stool placed in the bottom of
the coach, the height of her head-dress
not allowing her to occupy the regular
seat.
" Boddington had a wretchedly bad
memory; and, in order to improve it,
he attended Feinaigle's lectures on the
Art of Memory. Soon after, somebody
asked Boddington the name of the lee-
* Extracts from " Rogers's Table. Tails." Moxon
turer ; and, for his life, he could not re-
collect it. When I was asked if I had
attended the said lectures on the Art
of Memory, I replied, ' No : I wished to
learn the Art of Forgetting.'
"Dunning was remarkably ugly. One
night, while he was playing whist, at
Nando' s, with Home Tooke and two
others, Lord Thurlow called at the door,
and desired the waiter to give a note to
Dunning (with whom, though their
politics were so different, he was very
intimate). The waiter did not know
Dunning by sight. ' Take the note up-
stairs,' said Thurlow, ' and deliver it to
the ugliest man at the card-table to
him who most resembles the knave of
spades.' The note immediately reached
its destination. Home Tooke used
often to tell this anecdote.
" When I was a lad, I recollect see-
ing a whole cartful of young girls, in
dresses of various colours, on their way
to be executed at Tyburn. They had
all been condemned, on one indictment,
for having been concerned in (that is,
perhaps, for having been spectators of)
the burning of some houses during Lord
George Gordon's riots. It was quite
horrible. Greville was present at one
of the trials consequent on those riots,
and heard several boys sentenced, to
their own excessive amazement, to be
hanged. ' Never,' said Greville, with
great naivetd, 'did I see boys cry so.'
"Coleridge spoke and wrote very
disparagingly of Mackintosh, but Mack-
intosh, who had not a particle of
envy or jealousy in his nature, did
full justice, on all occasions, to the
great powers of Coleridge. Southey
used to say that ' the moment anything
assumed the shape of a duty, Coleridge
felt himself incapable of discharging it.' f
* * In all his domestic relations Southey
was the most amiable of men ; but he
had no general philanthropy ; he was '
what you call a cold man. He was never
happy except when reading a book or
making one. Coleridge once said to
me, ' I can't think of Southey, without
seeing him either mending or \ising a
pen.' I spent some time with him at
Lord Lonsdale's, in company with
Wordsworth and others ; and while the
GEORGE BIDDER.
rest of the party were walking about,
talking, and amusing themselves,
Southey preferred sitting solus in the
library. ' How cold he is [' %\as the ex-
clamation of Wordsworth, himself so
joyous and communicative.
" Dining one <l:iy with the Princess
dee (Queen Caroline), I heard her
say that on her first arrival in this
country, she could speak only one word
of English. Soon after, I mentioned
that circumstance to a large party ; and
a discussion arose what English word
would be most useful for a person to
know, supposing that person's know-
ledge of the language must be limited
to a single word. The greater number
of the company fixed on 'Yes.' But
Lady Charlotte Lindsay said that she
should prefer 'No,' 'No' very oft
meant ' Yes.' The Princess was very
good-natured and agreeable."
GEORGE BIDDER THE BOY AND
THE MAX.
IN our second Interview we gave some
interesting statistics of railways. The
following interesting account of a lec-
ture delivered by George Bidder, Esq.,
once "the calculating boy," will pro-
bably explain by whom those statistics
were calculated :
Recently, at the Institution of Civil
Engineers, there was something new
under the sun. Contrary to rule and
order, an oral lecture was delivered by
George Bidder, on the faculty of mental
calculation, illustrative of the peculiarity
which, in bygone years, rendered him a
mark of wonder, like Xerah Colburn
and Jedediah Buxton. This faculty he
pronounced capable of being acquired j
by many persons under teaching, to the [
extent of multiplying three figures by j
three figures, and by others to a greater I
extent consistently with the power of j
their memory to hold facts ; but that in
his own case the stress of mind became
very great when greatly increasing the
number of figures. Nor did he consider
the faculty very advantageous beyond
'hree figures. But all this technicality
was a very small part of the pleasure
felt that evening by an audience more
crowded than ever was known in that
theatre of science for practical objects.
We remember to have read years ago a
magazine article on calculating boys, in
which the writer laid it down as a kind
of law, that one faculty absorbed all
other faculties lik.- the -n.,ke-changed
wand of Moses, and that George Bidder,,
having become an engineer, was in no
wise remarkable in this vocation. The
critical faculty of the writer was cer-
tainly not remarkable.
But one thing is worthy of remark
that George Bidder and Xerah Colburn,
after being exhibited to the ;.'
crowds of curiosity-mongers, boii
came engineers ; one in England, join-
ing himself to the fortunes of Robert
Stephensou; the other in America,
whither he returned with his father, a
poor man, after the late James Mill,
Jeremy Bentham, and Francis '
had vainly tried to stir up people here
to a subscription,, for the purpose oi'
superaddiug upon the natural faculty
the highest kind of education, as an
experimental test. He now conducts a
weekly journal of practical science in
the United States.
But the charm of the evening was
other than calculation. It was the
tale, told with modesty and simplicity,
of early struggle, from the condition of
a labourer's child to that of a foremost
worker at the great lever of modern
civilisation the iron railway. The
whole man was changed. We had seen
him, known him, again and again, in
Parliamentary committees, fighting rail-
way battles inch by inch, with a face as
hard as tunnel rock, with no outwanl
indication that he had a heart within
him, or any perception other than that
of money to be gained. We believed
in him only as a machine for calcula-
tion. But Othello s story was not more
moving than his tale of life struggle.
There was no oratory, no trick, no boast,
but an even flow of words without a
fault in grammar ; all so true, so si:.
that the very words were witnesses to
their own truth. The world was gone,
and the child lived over again without
calculation ; and those who had never
before recognised anything but a rough
HOW TO BE MISERABLE.
93
.and unscrupulous antagonist marvelled
as they listened. It was the triumph
of nature over artificiality. The brother
who taught him first and last to count
up ten, the blacksmith whose forge he
sat on with other boys, and whose bel-
lows he was sometimes permitted to
blow, and his subsequent lifelong at-
tachment to his "earliest and best
friend," Robert Stephenson, all pre-
sented a perfect picture to the mind's
eye ; and the speaker stood forth in his
true form, with the outer husk removed,
a manly-minded Englishman, with calm
philosophic power of analysis, and yet
withal a strong gushing heart. In truth
there has been in the lives of these two
men, Robert Stephenson and George
Bidder, the old heroic spirit in a modern
garb ; Orestes and Pylades bent on rail-
way-making money-making also but
still doing the world's work, and not
with a view to obtain false titles to
shame their origin. Spectator.
HOW TO BE MISERABLE.
" How to be happy," is a very common
heading to an article addressed to the
young. I have seen it in the papers so
often, that I should not think of writing
upon it. But I believe that I have
never seen anything in pi-int to tell
young people how to be miserable.
"How to be miserable! Well, we
don't want to be miserable."
Don't want to be miserable ! How
so? Then why do you take so much
pains to be miserable ? I cannot think
how a child or a youth who is free from
care or trouble, and full of buoyant
spirits, can be miserable, without trying
very hard to be so. But as I havo seen
a great many young persons, who not
only seem determined to make them-
selves miserable, but everybody around
them also, I thought perhaps they
would thank me for telling them how
they may do it easier.
In the first place, if you want to be
miserable, be selfish. Think all the
time of yourself, and of your own
things. Don't care about anybody else.
Have no feeling for any one but your-
self. Never think o enjoying the satis-
faction of seeing others happy ; but the
rather, if you see a smiling face, be
jealous, lest another should enjoy what
you have not. Envy every one who is
better off in any respect than yourself,
think unkindly towards them, and speak
slightly of them. Be constantly afraid
lest some one should encroach upon
your rights ; be watchful against it, and
if any one comes near your things, snap
at him like a mad clog. Contend earnestly
for everything that is your own, though
it may not be worth a pin; for your
"rights" are just as much concerned as
if it were a pound of gold. Never yield
a point.
Be very sensitive, and take everything
that is said to you in playfulness, in
the most serious manner. Be jealous of
your friends, lest they should not think
enough of you. And if at any time
they should seem to neglect you, put
the worst construction upon it you can,
and conclude that they' wish to avoid
your acquaintance; and so the next
time you meet them, put on a sour look
and show a proper resentment. You
will soon get rid of them, and cease to
be troubled with friends. You will
have the pleasure of being shut up in
yourself.
Be very touchy and irritable. Culti-
vate a sour, cross, snappish disposition.
Never speak in good-nature if you can
help it. Never be satisfied with any-
thing, but always be fretting. Pout at
your father and mother ; get angry with
your brothers and sisters; or, if you
are alone, fret at your books, or your
work, or your play. Never look at, or
admire anything that is beautiful or
good ; but fix your eye on the dark side
of everything ; complain of defects in the
best of things, and be always on the
look-out for whatever is deformed or
ugly, or offensive in any way, and turn
up your nose at it. If you will do half
of these things you will become miser-
able enough.
RULES FOB STUDY. 1. Learn one
thing at a time. 2. Learn that thing well.
3. Learn its connexions, as far as pos-
sible, with all other things. 4. Believe
that to know everything of something
is better than to know something of
everything.
9-t
VOKTKY
TI1E POET LARK.
THE purple hills an
The evening hour is drawing nijrh :
And yet, near yonder cloud, behold
Tho lark is soaring in tin
Me there at such an hour?
The twilight creeps the vale along.
The drowsy bee now quits the flower,
The thrush hath closed his vesper song.
I heard him o'er the waving corn.
Herald the dawning of the day,
And now, on fluttering pinions borne,
It chants its parting roundelay.
Hark how the little minstrel sings.
Among the golden clouds ef even :
While up he springs on trembling wings.
As if his spirit were in heaven.
Is it ambition calls him there,
There prompts so sweet a song to flow ?
Ah ! no no, no, 'tis all for her
Who nestles in the vale below.
For her who mounts the clouds among,
For her attunes his melody
And thus, my love, expressed in song.
Is all that I can give to thee 1
THE BEAD CHILD.
O CLOSE with reverent care those eyes ;
Their meei and sorrowing light hath fled ;
No trembling gleam through mists of tears
From those dimmed orbs will more be shed
Draw down the thin and azure lid ;
No look of mute appealing pain,
No piercing anguished gaze on heaven,
Will strike through those blue depths again.
Now gently smooth her soft brown hair:
Shred not those glossy braids away,
But part the bright locks round her brow-
As sweetly in her life they lay.
Press one soft kiss on those soft lips :
They thrill not now like flickering flame :
They'll ne'er unclose in troubled dreams,
To brea the again that cherished name.
But press them softly ; still and cold,
They part not with the sleeper's breath
Fear thou to break the softened seal
Left by the kindly touch of DEATH.
Wrap the white shroud about her breast:
'.nlilinif throb shall stir its fold:
No wiLi ike to light.
Within that l>,>si'in snowy cokl.
Milorly her fzvir younp h;;:
The heart beneath in stillno.s lies ;
They'll never strm. with tightened clasp.
Again to hush its anguished eru -.
Oh ! fierce but brief the storm that swept
The bloom from this pale sleeper's brow
And keen the pang that rent apart
The bosom calmly shrouded now.
A PIC-NIC. BY M. COLLINS.
THE lake is calm. A crowd of sunny faces
And plumed heads and shoulders round andJ
white,
Are mirrored in the waters. There are traces
Of merriment in those sweet eyes of light
Lie empty hampers round ; in shady places
The hungry throw themselves with ruthless
might
On lobsters, salads ; while champagne, to cheer
'em,
Cools in the brook that murmurs sweetly near
'em.
Green leagues of park and forest lie around;
Wave stately antlers in the glimmering dis-
tance :
Up from the dusky arches comes a sound
That tells the story of old Pan's existence.
And now in song the summer wind is drowned ;
Now comes a call that conquers all resist-
ance :
A dance upon the turf ! up, up, instanter,
Away with quarried pie, and stained decanter.
Small hands are linked, and dance divinest
tresses,
And agile feet fly down the pleasant glade in
A merry measure ; through the deep recesses
How gaily trip they, youth and laughing
maiden.
The shaken turf is swept by silken dresses,
The woodland breeze with many a jest is-
laden.
And lips are curled, and haughty heads are
tossed, too,
As none could picture them but Ariosto,
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
33. ALCOHOLIC DRINKS. Dr.
J. B. Neilson expresses the following
opinion upon the use of alcoholic stimu-
lants. We offer these remarks as his
opinion not as our own. And by in-
serting them, we were actuated more by
a desire to elicit discussion, than by a
wish to enforce Dr. Neilson's views
upon our readers. Our Interviews will
admit the views of all classes of thinkers.
Milton said, " Let Truth and Error grap-
ple ; who ever knew the truth worsted in
u fair and open encounter : " " Spirits
are of no use in three cases 1st. As a
cordial, when the body has been sud-
denly exhausted of its strength, and a
disposition to fainting has been induced.
2nd. When the body has been exposed
for a long time to wet weather, more es-
pecially if it be combined with cold.
Here a moderate quantity of spirits is
not only safe, but may be of use to ob-
viate debility. And 3rd. In those cala-
mitous cases where any exercise that can
be obtained is insufficient for resisting
cold, wet, &c. Thus we find, in the
instance of the men who were in the
boat with Captain Bligh, after the mu-
tiny of the Bounty, exposed for nearly a
month to cold, wet, and hunger, what a
powerful effect even one teaspoonful of
rum daily had in fortifying them
against such hardships. "But," says
Liebig, "the use of spirits is riot the
cause but an effect of poverty. It is an
exception from the general rule when
a well-fed man becomes a spirit drinker.
On the other hand, when the labourer
earns by his work less than is required
to provide the amount of food which is
indispensable in order to restore fully
his working power, an unyielding, in-
exorable law or necessity compels him
to have recourse to spirits. He must
work, but in consequence of insufficient
food a certain portion of his working
power is daily wanting. Spirits, by
their action on the nerves, enable him
to make up the deficient power at the
expense of his body to consume to-day
that quantity which ought naturally to
have been employed a day later. He
draws, so to speak, a bill on his health,
which must always be renewed, because,
for want of means, he cannot take it up
he consumed his capital :'nstead of
his interest ; and the result is the inevit-
able bankruptcy of his body." Another
writer observes, "As to spirits being
useful in warm weather, the general
opinion is that whether used moderately
or in excessive quantities, they diminish
the strength of the body, relax the
muscles, render men more susceptible
of disease, and unfit them for any ser-
vice in which great vigour or activity is
required."
34. VARNISH FOR OIL PIC-
TURES. According to the number of
your pictures, take the whites of the
same number of eggs, and an equal
number of pieces of sugar-candy, the
size of a hazel-nut, dissolved, and mix
it with a teaspoonful of brandy ; beat
the whites of your eggs to a froth, and
let it settle ; take the clear, put it to-
your brandy and sugar, mix them well
together, and varnish over your pic-
tures with it. This is better than any
other varnish, as it is easily washed
off when your pictures want cleaning-
again.
35. IMPRESSIONS OF LEAVES.
Dissolve in a saucerful of water about
a teaspoonful of bichromate of potash
Pass the paper to be used through this
solution, and, while wet, press the
eaves lightly upon it, and expose it to
the sun when it is shining brightly.
When perfectly dry, remove the leaves,
and a fac-simile will be left in a light
lemon shade, while the rest of the
paper will be of a dark brown.
36. IMPRESSIONS OF PLANTS.
Take half a sheet of fine paper, and
cover the surface with sweet oil ; let it
stand a minute or two, then rub off the
superficial oil, and hang the paper in
the air : when almost dry, move the
paper slowly over the flame of a candle
or lamp, till it is perfectly black ; lay
on it the plant or leaf, place a piece of
clean paper over, and rub it equally
with the fingers for half a minute.
Then place the plant on the paper or
scrap-book where it is' desired to have
the impression, cover it with blotting-
paper, and, on repeating the rubbing, a
representation of the plant will appear
equal to the finest engraving. The same
piece of black paper will serve for a
Dumber of impressions.
96
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
37. METHOD OF CAUSING
CHILDREN TO CUT THEIR
TEETH EASILY. Feed them with an
ivory spoou and boat to be made thick,
round and smooth at the edges. Ivory
being of the sumo hardness and texture
as the jaws and tender teeth, the gums
are not hurt or inj ured ; but, when they
are thus pressed, facilitate the teeth in
their progress ; whereas, the silver im-
plements, being of a hard texture, and
the edges made thin, bruise and wound
the gums, and make a hard seani ; so
that the teeth cannot make their way
direct, and, if they do cut, come irregu-
larly ; so that the operation of lancing
is frequently absolutely necessary,
which, of course, must prejudice the
teeth, as some are exposed before the
time they are fit to cut. By this method,
fevei's, convulsions, &c., owing to the
teeth not being able to find their way
through the hard seam,may be prevented.
It must be often observed, that children
cry much when feeding, as if ill, or dis-
gusted with their food; whereas it is
frequently owing to quite the contrary ;
for, being hungry, and over eager to take
their food, they press hard, through
eagerness, on the boat and spoon, which,
being sharp, bruises and cuts the gums,
and consequently causes great pain,
which, by the ivory implements, will be
prevented. Those who cannot afford
ivory, may have horn or wood, or even
pewter is greatly preferable to silver,
provided the edges are made thick,
round, and smooth. The wooden sort,
unless they are kept very sweet and
clean, on that very account, are the
least eligible, and should be made, how-
ever, of box, or such hard and close tex-
tured wood as is the least liable to be
tainted 'by the milky food.
38. MANAGEMENT OF A WATCH.
First : Wind your watch as nearly as
possible at the same hour every day.
Secondly : Be careful that your key is
in good condition, as there is much
danger of injuring the machine when
the key is worn or cracked ; there are
more mainsprings and chains broken
through a jerk in winding, than from
any other cause, which injury will,
sooner or later, be the result, if the
key be in bad order. Thirdly : As all
metals contract by cold and expand by
heat, it must be manifest, that to keep
the watch as nearly as possible at one
temperature, is a necessary piece of at-
tention. Fourthly : Keep the watch
as constantly as possible in one position
that is, if it hangs by day, let it hang
by night against something soft. Fifthly :
The hands of a pocket-chronometer or
duplex watch, should never be set back-
wards ; in other watches this is a matter
of no consequence. Sixthly : The glass
should never be opened in watches that
set and regulate at the back. One or
two directions more it is of vital im-
portance that you bear in mind. On
regulating a watch, shoxild it be fast,
move the regulator a trifle towards the
slow, and if going slow, do the reverse ;
you cannot move the regulator too
slightly or too gently at a time, and the
only inconvenience that can arise is,
that you may have to perform the duty
more than once. On the contrary, if
you move the regulator too much at a
time, you will be as far, if not further
than ever, from attaining your object ;
so that you may repeat the movement
until quite tired and disappointed
stoutly blaming both watch and watch-
maker, while the fault is entirely your
own. Again, you cannot be too careful
in respect of the nature and condition
of your watch-pocket ; see that it be
made of something soft and pliant
such as wash-leather, which is the best ;
and, also, that there be no flue or nap
that may be torn off when taking the
watch out of the pocket. Cleanliness,,
too, is as needful here as in the key be-
fore winding; for if there be dust or
dirt in either instance, it will, you may
rely upon it, work its way into the
watch, as well as wear away the engine
turning of the case.
39. DAMP WALLS.- Since the pub-
lication of the Hints in Enquire Within
(819), it has been proved that thin gutta-
percha paper, pasted against the walls,
and then covered with the usual paper-
hangings, proves an effective remedy.
40 MONKSHOOD Every one is
digging up and throwing out of his gar-
den the poisonous plant monkshood;
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
97
but care should be taken as to where it
is thrown. A person threw some roots
on a dunghill, where they were eaten by
a cow, and the cow died the same day.
If left till the summer sun brings out
its blossoms, they can be easily detected
as growing on a tall lax spike of from
two to three feet high, the corolla or
coloured part of the flower being in
general blue, and shaped like a helmet
or monkshood, which has given rise to
the English name. As the monkshood
is very retentive of life, the surest way
to destroy it is to burn it, or mix it
with quicklime.
41. THE SAFE ADMINISTRA-
TION OF CHLOROFORM. Dr. Kidd
states that there are four stages of
chlorofoi-misation. It is recommended
by him to bring patients gradually
under the influence of chloroform iu a
darkened ward rather in the noise and
alarm of the operating-theatre : many
deaths arising from the increased quan-
tity of chloroform called for in operat-
ing - theatres to dull the increased
sensibility, caused by increased alarm
and motional excitement. Dr. Kidd
believes that for the latter reason ex-
periments on the lower animals, as
rabbits and guinea pigs, do not apply to
man, except in a remote and imperfect
manner. The first stage of chloroform
is marked by a giddiness and confusion
of memory, but perfect consciousness
of pain. In the second stage, as is well
seen in muscular men and women, the
brain seems to be influenced, and the
muscular system is specifically affected,
almost like hysteria or epilepsy. To
this succeeds the third stage, or that of
general want of feeling and absence of
consciousness, beginning in the interior
half of the body first ; the peripheral
distribution of the nerves of feeling and
touch spread out over the upper extre-
mities, face and head, being far more
complex about the fifth and seventh
nerves, diaphragm and cardiac nerves,
than in the cauda equina ; the senso-
rium itself in the third stage, becoming
a tabula rasa for awhile from want of
ideas conveyed through the conscious-
ness. In the fourth stage, not always
reached, but the author believes always
to be apprehended, the patient faints
from cardiac syncope, and where un-
dulated chloroform vapour is u^ed, from
asphyxia, being " drowned," as it were,
in chloroform vapour, not perhaps from
spasm of the glottis so much as the
existence of air in the lungs, deprived
of oxygen. In recovering patients from
this stage, artificial perspiration is not
in Dr. Kidd's opinion, so valuable as
cold sprinkling and turning the patient
on his face and side, the reflex nerves of
the face and external respiratory mus-
cles requiring to be excited.
42. ALUMINIUM. The physical
properties of aluminium, the newly pro-
duced metal, are very interesting. It
is ductile, malleable, an excellent
conductor of heat and of electri-
city ; its specific heat is great ; its
specific gravity very low (2'25) ; it is
also very sonorous. But the chemical
properties of this metal are yet more
remarkable. Considering the great diffi-
culty of detaching aluminium from the
oxygen with which it is found com-
bined, it might have been expected that
immediately on its coming into contact
with the oxygen of the air, it would at*
tract that element with the utmost
avidity. So far from this being the
case, aluminium is scarcely acted on by
any of the strong acids (except hy-
drochloric acid) in the cold, neither is
it attacked by sulphur. Dr. Percy haa
obtained interesting alloys of this metal ;
of these several were exhibited,
namely, with copper, tin, and gold,
one with copper at 5 per cent, of alumi-
nium deserves notice : it laminates well,
and " dips " of a fine golden colour,
the dipping liquid was nitric acid. As
to the uses of aluminium, this metal is
at present too costly to be employed for
many purposes for which it is singu-
larly adapted. It is, however, adopted
as the material of weights for the de-
termination of small quantities. The
lightness of this metal, and its freedom
from all liability to 'rust or tarnish, re-
commends it to the surgeon and the
dentist : pianoforte strings are said to
have been made of it ; while its pro-
perty of conducting heat, its high
specific heat, and the resistance it offers
98
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
to corroding agents, indicate it as per-
haps the best known metal for culinary
vessels. But as soon as it is sufficiently
cheap it will, doubtless, be employed in
covering iron surfaces (such as rails,
pipes, &c.) which are exposed to the
atmosphere. It has been found from
experiment that a clean iroii surface
will receive an adhering plating of
aluminium.
43. POTATOES. Growing season
for planting potatoes is at hand. I
thought I would give my experience of
the way in which I have been most suc-
cessful in planting them, as well as the
sort to be planted (which, by the way,
has a deal to do with it). I grew some
acres last year on wheat stubble with-
out any dung, dug up in the winter and
allowed to lie till the beginning of
April, when I commenced planting
them in the following manner (the
ground I should say is a very strong
clay subsoil, but has been well drained
3 feet 6 inches deep) : We use a tool
called a Tubal, made in Devonshire,
with which we make a drill as if for
peas, but about an inch deeper, the
drills 2 feet apart, and then lay in the
sets about 10 or 12 inches apart. After
they are in draw in the drill on one
side sufficient to cover the sets and
leave the other side till the plant is up
a fortnight ; then draw in the other side,
and this will be as good as hoeing. If,
however, the ground is very foul, you
must hoe again and heap them up if
wanted. They will require nothing
more done to them before they are ripe,
save only the top dressing, which I sow
broadcast about three weeks after they
are up ; 1 cwt. guano, or not having
this 2 of superphosphate of lime will
answer the purpose. Now, I have
planted several sorts in this way
Eegents, Kidneys, Early Oxford, and
others, ail of which succeeded very well,
but none like the Early Oxford ; they
were ready to take up the latter end of
July or beginning of August, quite soon
enough for a crop of turnips. The
yield was remarkably good, more than
130 sacks to the acre, and the mode in
which we get them up is as follows :
Th potatoes being planted near the
surface, we have a tool like a dung fork,
only turned down, with which a man can
with ease get up 60 bushels a day, and
being so near the surface there has not
been half a bushel of diseased potatoes
to an acre. The Oxford Potato keeps
so much better than any other, and is
best for all purposes. Richard Wtbb,
Calcot Farm, Read'nuj.
44. TO OBTAIN NITROGEN.
You ask, how is nitrogen obtained, and
we answer, by burning phosphorus in
air enclosed in a jar over water, as in
the annexed diagram. Should you wish
to make the experiment of obtaining
nitrogen, take a piece of phosphorus
about the size of a large pea, place it in
a small earthenware dish, and let it float
on the surface of the pneumatic trough ;
then touch the phosphorus with a piece
of hot wire, and coverthe jar over it. You
will then observe that the jar is being
filled with dense white fumes, produced
by the combination of phosphorus with
oxygen to form phosphoric acid. When
the fumes disappear you will see that
the water has risen about one-fifth of
the height in the jar, and the phos-
phorus has become extinguished, be-
cause it has exhausted all the oxygen
in the jar.
45. LIGHTNING CONDUCTORS.
Closed windows are dangerous during
lightning, because the inner sides of the
frames acquire an opposite electricity
to the outside, and then any conducting
body is likely to concentrate the action
on the inside. Metallic bodies, picture-
frames, coated mirrors, bell-wires, &c.,
display electricity by induction, during
a storm. The best lightning conductor
is lead or copper, on the ridge of the
roof, with perfect continuation of metal
pipes into the ground.
46. QUEEN ANNE'S FARTHINGS
The erroneous supposition that only
three of these farthings were struck in
Queen Anne's reign is founded on the
fact that there were some pattern or
proof coins which got into circulation,
in addition to the com which was really
in use. Several hundreds of Queen
Anne's farthings were struck, and those
bearing the impression and lettering
given in the annexed diagram are not very
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
rare. The common farthing of Queen
Anne is worth, to collectors, from
seven to twelve shilling.-!, while the pat-
tern coins fetch from one to five pounds.
47. THE USE OF SILK. Silk is
an agreeable and healthy material.
Used in dres^, it retains the electricity
of our bodies ; in the drapery of our
rooms and furniture covers, it reflects
the sunbeams, giving them a quicker
brilliancy, and it heightens colours with
a charming light. It possesses a cheer-
fulness of which the dull surfaces of
wool and linen are destitute. It pro-
motes cleanliness, and will not readily
imbibe dirt. Its continually growing
use by man, accordingly, is beneficial
in many ways. Grace and beauty even
owe something to silk.
48. ADULTERATED CAYENNE
PEPPER. Everything you take in at
the mouth almost, saving the pure
element, water, is adulterated. The
Lancet gives the following results of an
analysis of twenty-eight samples of
cayenne pepper, regarding which you
write, obtained at different shops :
" That out of the twenty-eight samples
of cayenne pepper subjected to analysis,
twenty-four were adulterated. That
out of the above number, four only were
genuine. That out of the twenty-four
adulterated samples, twenty-two con-
tained mineral colouring matter. That
red-lead, often in large and poisonous
quantities, was present in thirteen sam-
ples. That Venetian red, red ochre,
brick-dust, or some other analogous
ferruginous earths, were contained in
seven samples. That cinnibar, ver-
milion, or sulphuret of mercury, was
detected in one sample. That six sam-
ples consisted of ground rice, turmeric
and cayenne, coloured with red lead, or
a red ferruginous earth. That six con-
tained salt, frequently combined with
rice and red ferruginous earth, or red
lead. That one of the samples was
adulterated with a quantity of the husk
of white mustard-seed. That two con-
tained rice only, coloured with red lead
or a ferruginous earth. (See Enquire
Within: "A .,<*.")
49. THE NIGHTINGALE. This
bird arrives in England somewhere
about the middle of April. The males,
as in the case of the black-cap, comes
several days before the females ; they
are very easily caught, and the lynx-
eyed, quick-eared bird-catchers are im-
mediately on the watch, so that they
may secure them before the arrival of
their mates ; for it is a sad truth, that
if a male nightingale be taken after his
song has won for him a partner, he
hardly ever survives in a cage ; he dies
broken-hearted.
50. MUSCUL R EXERCISE.
Much care should be taken in setting
down the feet. Let the outer edge of
the heel first touch the ground,, and the
sole of the foot bear and project the
weight of the body. The length of step
is to be determined by the length of
limb. Efforts at taking long steps,
out of proportion to the power of
motion, are always ungraceful. Reckon-
ing from heel to heel, or toe to toe, the
length of a military step at drill march,
is thirty inches, which is considerably
more than the length of ordinary steps
in walking. The length of step at a
moderate pace of a man five feet nine
inches high is usually twenty-four
inches ; and this will be found a con-
venient length to acquire the habit of
using. The motion of the arms too and
fro, in cadence with the movements of
the legs, greatly helps the locomotion,
and is advantageous in exercising the
muscles of the shoulders, and expand-
ing the chest. The motions of the
arms, however, should be on a moderate
scale, the hands not swinging through
a greater space than eight or nine
inches, before and behind the leg. The
practice of working forward the shoul-
ders and swinging the arms at a great
rate is most odious. It may be added,
that the art of comporting the hands,
keeping them down, or from meddling
with the person, is one very necessary
in polite behaviour, and should be ac-
quired by all young persons, before bad
habits are confirmed.
51. LONGEVITY OF QUAKERS'
The reasons are obvious enough.
Quakers are temperate and prudent, are
seldom in a hurry, and never in a pas-
sion. Quakers, in the very midst of tb
100
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
week's business (on Wednesday morn-
ing) retire from the world, and spend
an hour or two in silent meditation at
the meeting house. Quakers are dili-
gent ; they help one another, and the
fear of want does not corrode their
minds. The journey of life to them is
a walk of peaceful meditation. They
neither suffer nor enjoy intensity ; but
preserve a composed demeanour always.
Is it surprising their days should be
long in the land ?
BATHING. Too much fatigue
in the water weakens the strength and
presence of mind necessary to avoid
accidents. A person who is tired, and
remains there without motion, soon
becomes weak and chilly. As soon as
he feels fatigued, chill, or numbed, he
should quit the water, and diy and dress
himself as quickly as possible. Friction,
previous to dressing, drives the blood
over every part of the body, creates an
agreeable glow, and strengthens the
joints and muscles.
53. PRESERVATION OF HEALTH.
Our correspondent should refer to
the various rules we have given in the
Enquire Within on this important sub-
ject. Sir William Paulett, who died in
the reign of Queen Elizabeth, at the age
of ninety-seven, gave the following
answer to a person who had inquired
how he had preserved his health :
" Late supping I forbear :
Wine and excesses I forswear :
My neck and feet I keep from cold :
No marvel then, though I be old :
I am a willow, not an oak ;
I bend, but never hurt with stroke."
54. PRESERVATION OF THE
TEETH AND GUMS. -The teeth are
bones, thinly covered over with a fine
enamel, and this enamel is more or less
substantial in different persons. When-
ever this enamel is worn through by too
coai-se a powder, or too frequently
cleaning the teeth, or eaten through by
a scorbutic humour in the gums, the
tooth cannot remain long sound, any
more than a filbert-kernel can, when it
has been penetrated by a worm. The
teeth, therefore, are to be cleaned, but
with great precaution ; for, if you wear
the enamel off faster by cleaning the
outside than nature supplies it within,
your teeth will suffer more by this
method than perhaps by a total neglect.
55. GLASS AND CROCKERY.
Crockery and glass, to be used for hold-
ing hot water, are best seasoned by
boiling them, by putting the articles in
a saucepan of cold water over the fire,
and letting the water just boil ; the
saucepan should then be removed, and
the articles should be allowed to remain
in it till the water is cold. Some kind
of pottery is best seasoned by soaking
in cold water. Choose thin rather than
thick glasses, as the thin glass is less
likely to be broken by boiling water
than that which is thicker, for thin
glass allows the heat to pass through it
I in least time. The safest plan is to
I pour boiling water very slowly into cold
j glasses. As boiling water will often
j break cold glass, so a cold liquid will
j break hot glass ; thus wine, if poured
I into decanters that have been placed
j before the fire, will frequently break
; them. Glass dishes and stands made
in moulds are much cheaper than
others, and they have a good appear-
ance, if not placed near cut glass. Lamp
glasses are often cracked by the flame
being too high when they are first
placed round it ; the only method of
preventing which is to lower the flame
before the glass is put on the lamp,
and to raise the flame gradually as the
glass heats.
56. POLISH FOR DINING TA-
BLES Is to rub them with cold-drawn
linseed oil, thus : Put a little in the
middle of a table, and then with a piece
of liueu (never use woollen) cloth rub it
well all over the table ; then take ano-
ther piece of linen and rub it for ten
minutes ; then rub it till quite dry with
another cloth. This must be done every
day for some months, when you will
find your mahogany acquire a perma-
nent and beautiful lustre, unattainable
by any other means, and equal to the
finest French polish ; and if the table is
covered with the table-cloth only, the
hottest dishes will make no impression
upon it; and when once this polish is
produced, it will only require dry rub-
bing with a linen cloth for about ten
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
101
minutes, twice a-week, to preserve it in
the highest perfection; which never
fails to please your employers; and
remember, that to please others is
always the surest way to profit yourself.
If the appearance must be more imme-
diately produced, take some furniture
paste.
57. IMITATION CORAL. An in-
geuioiis person can make up with arti-
ficial coral a great variety of useful and
ornamental articles, such as work-bas-
kets, liqueur bottle-stands, card- racks,
candle ornaments, &c., all of which have
a novelty in appearance, and are at the
same time very pretty. To prepare this
coral, procure small branches of shrubs,
peel the bark off, and dry them ; they
are to be dipped in melted red sealing- |
wax ; to every quarter of a pound of
which should be added, prior to the
melting, one ounce of bees'-wax, which
will render the mixture, when cold, less
brittle than sealing-wax by itself. Twigs
of the black thorn are the best kind of
wood to employ for this purpose. Small
articles should be fashioned before they
are dipped, but larger ones require the
twigs to be dipped first. After they are
finished, they should be held before a
gentle fire, turning them round till they
are perfectly covered and smooth.
FLORAL SPECIMENS. The mode
of preserving leaves is simple. Take
two leaves of every kind you wish to
keep ; lay them inside of a sheet of
blotting paper, place them under a con-
siderable pressure, and let them remain
during the night. Open them the next
morning, remove them to a dry part of
the paper, and press them again for the
same space of time. They may then
be placed in the book intended for the j
purpose, and fastened down with a little
gum, with the alternate sides turned
out, and the name written, with such
other observations as the artist may
think propei*.
58. WEAK EYES. The following
directions will be of service to our
readers generally : 1. Never sit for
any length of time in absolute gloom,
or exposed to a blaze of light, and
then remove to an opposite extreme.
2. Avoid reading a very small print.
3. Never read by twilight, nor by fire-
light, nor, if the eyes are disordered, by
caudle-light. 4. Do not permit the eye
to dwell on glaring objects, particularly
on first awaking in a morning. 5. Long
sighted persons should accustom them-
selves to read with rather less light, and
somewhat nearer to their eyes, than is
naturally agreeable, while the short-
sighted should habituate themselves to
read with the book as far off as possible.
6. Nothing preserves the sight longer
than a moderate degree of light; too
little strains the eyes, and too great a
quantity dazzles and inflames them. 7.
Do not wear other spectacles than your
own, to which your eyes have accommo-
dated themselves.
59. MOURNING. It was different
in different countries. Among the an-
cients, mourning was expressed by
various signs : tearing their clothes,
wearing sackcloth, laying aside ensigns
of honour ; thus Plutarch, from the
time of his leaving the city with Pom-
pey, neither shaved his head, nor, as
usual, wore the crown or garland.
Amongst the Romans, a year of mourn-
ing was ordained by law, for women
who had lost their husbands. The
colours of the dress or habit worn to
signify grief vary in different countries.
In Europe, the ordinary colour for
mourning is black, which, being the
privation of light, is supposed to denote
the termination of life. In China it is
white, the emblem of purity, which
colour was the mourning of the ancient
Spartan and Roman ladies. In Egypt
it is yellow, which, representing the
colour of leaves when they fall, and
flowers when they fade, signifies that
death is the end of all human hopes.
In Ethiopia brown, which denotes the
earth to which all the dead return. In
Turkey blue, which is an emblem of
the happiness which it is hoped the de-
ceased enjoys. Kings and cardinals
mourn in purple or violet, which is sup-
posed to express the combination of
sorrow and hope. The custom of
mourning for the dead in shrieks and
howlings is of great antiquity, and pre-
vails almost universally among the
followers of Mahomet.
102
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
60. PEA-LEAF SOUR From what
has been stated in your pages (see p.
56), we have been induced to try this.
Our first and second ''>\ not
come up to our expectations. The second
was hi > ment on the first
so far as colour and flavour were con-
cerned; the only deficient.-;.
stance I am happy to say we
ined in the th:
tempt. At the suggestion of a first-rate
cook we boiled a small quantity of a
blue variety of pea (the Prussian blue),
put them through the tammy, mixed
the two veil together, and the pea soup
for colour, flavour, and body could not
be surpassed even by midsummer pro-
ductions. A quantity sufficient to serve
a party of 14 can be raised at the ex-
pense (labour and space included) of
from 2s. to 2s. 6d. One quart of the
strong growing varieties is enough for
sowing, and a half of pint of Prussian
blue or any other blue variety of peas to
boil separately. Mint ought not to be
used ; the less artificial it is the better.
Pea Green, Herefordshire.
61. JOHN GILPIN. There is at
present a discussion being carried on
in some of your contemporaries as to
whether the story of John Gilpin, "of
credit and renown," was an entirely
fictitious romance, or whether Cowper
founded his poem upon an event in the
life of a real personage. In making
some researches in the Gentleman's
Magazine, I think, about a week ago, I
came accidentally upon a notice to this
effect : " Died this day, at , Mr.
, celebrated for his indifferent
horsemanship, under the name of John
Gilpin." The notice, to the best of niy
memory, was about twelve lines in
length. I have since vainly endeavoured
to find the passage. Had I been aware
of the controversy now pending, I
should certainly have made a note of it
at the time. Of this much, however, I
am certain, that the short memoir
alluded to distinctly affirmed and esta-
blished (i. e., as far as it wa.s trust
worthy) the fact that the cele
John Gilpin was a historic personage.
As I cannot find the passage in the In-
dex of the Gentleman's Magazine under
Gilpin, I conclude that Gilpin was not
1 nainr, but only the appellation
which Cowper assumed for the ocr
I am, &c., JOSEPH B. M'CAUL. Li-
brary, British Museum, March 3rd.
[The foregoing was addressed to the
editor of the At ft- published
by him. The notice of .f the
reputed "Johnny Gilpin" will U- found
at p. 60 of the Interview.]
62. TO PAINT THE GLASSES OF
MAGIC L J.~ Draw on a
paper the subject you desire to paint.
Lay it on a table or any flat surface,
and place the glass over it ; then draw
the outlines with a very fine pencil in
varnish mixed with black paint, and,
when dry, fill up the other parts in then?
proper colours. Transparent colour
must be used for this purpose, such as
carmine, lake, Prussian blue, ve;
sulphate of iron, tincture of Brazil woody
gamboge, &c., and these must be tem-
pered by a strong white varnish, to pre-
vent their peeling off. Then shade
them with black or with bistre, mixed
with the same varnish.
63. TO CLEAN MOREEN CUR-
TAINS. Having removed the dust and
clinging dirt as much as possible with a
brush, lay the curtain on a large table,
sprinkle on it a little bran, and rub it
round with a piece of clean flannel;
when the bran and flannel become
soiled, use fresh, and continue rubbing
till the moreen looks bright, which it
will do in a short tune.
64. EFFECTS OF FASHIONABLE
BONNETS. An eminent medical
gentleman in London, writing to a
friend in Bristol, says : " I have to
lament the great increase, among the
female part of my practice, of tic-
doloureux in the forehead, loss of
sight, and great suffering in the ear,
induced, I firmly believe, from the
present absurd fashion of wearing bon-
nets on the neck, instead of the head.
During the past month I have been in
attendance upon two young ladies with
the tic-doloureux in the forehead, and
several others with similar complaints
It is high time that the frivolous bonnet
of the present day should be done away
with."
THAT LAZY FELLOW.
103
"THAT LAZY FELLOW."
WE never read anything more likely to
stir up the energies of the dormant
than the story we are now about to
give. It's just the thing we would put
into the hands of a dull boy, if we had
a lazy one. Or we might get its spirit
by heart, and act the part of the bust-
ling doctor. This story was first
printed in an American magazine, and
afterwards reprinted in an English
periodical, some years ago. But it can-
not now be found anywhere in a con-
venient form. We therefore give it,
with little alteration or abridgement.
If the reader knows a " lazy fellow,"
whom it is desired to wake into the
energies of life, send to him this number
of the Interview, putting a broad ink
mark under " That Lazy Fellow." He'll
be sure to read it, and if it doesn't
rouse him, he must be worse than
Theophilus Briggs !
I am sorry I have undertaken to say
anything about Theophilus. Not that
I am afraid he will read this, and attack
me with a stick. No danger. Theo-
philus never opens a magazine rarely
ever opens a newspaper, and when he
does he only reads the anecdotes.
Besides, I don't intend to name where
he lives. There is no danger. Even if
the bookseller reads the Companion,
and sends for Theophilus and shows it
to him, and urges him " not to stand
it," he is too lazy to get angry ; or if it
does, he is far too lazy to attack any
one.
No ! the reason I am sorry I under-
took to say anything about him, is
because there is so very little I can
possibly say. There is no use in at-
tempting to say anything about his
father. It is true he kept shop, and
sold marbles to me when I was a boy,
and was in the militia. I have racked
my memory, and cannot recollect any-
thing concerning hica except that he
sold tape, and nails, and calico, over his
little counter, as far back aa I can re
member, without one single incident
which I can possibly dress up into an
interesting narration.
As to Mrs. Briggs, she was simply,
solely, and only Mrs. Briggs, and that
is literally all I, or anybody else, ever
knew about her. She made a new
bonnet and two new calico dresses for
herself every year, made and mended
the clothes of Mr. Briggs and Theo-
philus, ground the coffee, baked the
biscuits, and occasionally the cakes,
helped a neighbour to work, suckled
Theophilus when he was a baby,
thrashed him when he was a boy, and
knocked upon the partition (Mr.
Briggs's family lived in the back part of
his shop), when dinner was ready. Love
and marriage are always interesting, and
if I knew anything about theirs I would
relate it, even if I had to add a little
fiction in the way of an opposing father,
or a wonderful rescue of Mrs. Briggs,
that was to be, by Mr. Briggs from
some mad dog or runaway horse, or
something or other. But nobody ever
knew or said anything about their mar-
riage. I suppose they went to school
together, and grew up together, and got
married together, so much as a matter
of course as not to excite any stir at all
in Pikesville yes, I will call our town
by that name, for there is no use
wounding, or running the risk of wound-
ing, Theophilus's feelings.
Much more has now been said about
Mr. and Mrs. Briggs than I thought
could possibly be said ; so I feel encou-
raged to go on and speak about their
only son,
I might have described the death and
quiet funeral of his father, and how his
mother followed his father to the little
graveyard just three months after that
funeral. But I forbear. Easy, un-
offending, kind-hearted in their lives,
they sleep peacefully together. If they
did and said nothing else during their
lives, they, at least, injured no one, and
it is a vast deal better the world should
be peopled with suoh people, than with
active, but wrangling and hard-hearted
couples.
I want to dwell on the loveable quali-
ties of Mrs. Briggs as a mother for
there is something to me actually holy
in the character of a mother, apart from
all other qualities of the female. Yet I
cannot conscientiously do it in her case.
True, she suckled Theophilus and Lu-
"THAT LAZY FELLOW."
cinda his sister, and slapped them when
they cried, and gave them cakes when
they stopped crying, and nursed them
when they had eaten too much cake,
or had the hooping-cough. All this is
true, but it is only what the mere ani-
mal mother has instinct to do. At this
moment, you might ask Theophilus or
Lucinda, and they could not tell one
single thing done by their mother to
improve their minds, or waken their
immortal souls to the knowledge of im-
mortality.
She did teach Luciuda a peculiar way
of preparing peaches, so that they an-
swered either for preserves or pickles,
having a remarkable half-sweet, half-
sour taste, but I believe this is all, ex-
cept, of course, that Lucinda learned
from her how to cut out, and sew, and
cut candle-papers. This was all she re-
eived from her mother beyond her
mere existence.
Theophilus had his father's fat figure,
red hair, and every-day sort of face,
inherited his father's little shop, his
father's habits of opening the shutters
late in the morning, breakfasting late in
the back room, sitting on a tea-chest in
front of the door, or by the little stove
in the shop, as it happened to be sum-
mer or winter, all day cutting a stick, or
chatting with somebody. If a custo-
mer came in, he rose slowly, clasped his
pocket-knife by shutting it against his
thigh, slipped it in his pocket, went
round the counter, weighed the sugar
wanted, or measured off" the gingham,
just like a man who had plenty of time
to do it in.
Lucinda inherited her mother's realm
in the back-room, and kept up the rap-
ping when dinner was ready, as it had
been kept up for the last forty years by
her mother. I always thought her su-
perior to her mother. She was rather
pretty, medium size, lively black eye,
red lips, rosy cheek, loving heart only
needed the mind within her to be
lighted, to glow and sparkle, and be a
lovely and fascinating girl. Apparently,
however, the very same path lay before
her as before her mother ; grinding
coffee, baking tarts, making pickles,
making garments, mending socks, and
combing her hair, seemed to be literally
and absolutely all that lay before her
through life, with some slight change as
to the maternal duties of nursing in
case she married.
From Monday till Saturday, every day
seemed to be a mere repetition of the
preceding one. On Sunday they went
to church regularly ; but I do firmly
believe that they always returned with-
out the increase of a single idea at
least, of any one strong enough to
waken and move them on a higher
course of thought, and feeling, and ac-
tion.
Everybody in the town there are
about four hundred persons in Pikes-
ville liked Theophilus and Lucinda
well enough ; but the brother was
hardly ever mentioned, without the ad-
jective lazy attached. " That lazy fel-
low, Theophilus Briggs," was his usual
designation. It was only a few days
ago, when I was attending on Mrs. Mil-
son, for I am a practising surgeon
in Pikesville, that I overheard Mrs.
Jones tell Mrs. Smithers, who had
also dropped in to sit up with Mrs.
Milson, that Mr. Briggs was heard to
express himself more strongly in admi-
ration of her Mrs . Smithers' daughter
Jane, than was altogether consistent
with mere admiration.
" Well, what then ?" said Mrs. Sniithers
I thought rather tartly.
" Why, nothing," replied Mrs. Jones,
" except that Theophilus is old enough
to marry."
" Do you think I'd let my Jane many
that lazy fellow, Theophilus Briggs !"
said Mrs. Smithers, in a half-scream,
loud enough to waken my patient.
I could not stand it. My surgery is
right opposite Briggs' s shop, and I have
seen so very much of him sitting on his
tea-chest, that I felt myself to be more
acquainted with him than anybody else.
I am only going to stay a few months
longer in" Pikesville, to gain a little
more reading and practice in my profes-
sion, and then I intend going to a wider
field ; and so 1 determined I would take
the first opportunity to talk with my
neighbour see if I could not benefit
him a little. I think it was the Mon-
" THAT LAZY FELLOW.'
105
day after that that I did so. I had that
morning operated for strabismus on
Henry Milson's left eye had read hard
upon the operation, both before and
after it had ridden over to Squire
Smithers', and got back had drawn
my dentist chair near the window to
read a little more upon Mrs. Milson's
very delicate diagnosis, when I saw
Theophilus sitting as usual on the box
opposite. No one was with him. I
laid aside my book, went out, locked
the door, and went over, determined to
spend the hour before the bell rang for
supper, in talking to Theophilus.
In order not to make too sudden an
attack, I drew out my knife as I slowly
sauntered over, took a seat by Theo-
philus on the box, split off of it a splin-
ter to chip, and chatted a few minutes
about the warm, beautiful weather we
had.
"There is something," said I, "in
this bright, blooming weather, that
warms one through and through. It is
like spending an hour with Jane
Smithers to have an hour of such sun-
shine."
My figure was not extravagant. I
have been married two years, and, be-
sides, Jane is so lovely and intelligent,
and warm-hearted, and laughing a girl,
that to call her embodied sunshine is a
compliment to the sun, not to her ?
I saw I had hit the nail on the head.
Theophilus coloured, and looked up
with more life in his eye than I had
ever seen before.
" Think so ?" said he.
"I'll tell you what it is," said I,
" that girl is a pi-ize. She deserves to
marry a man. All her sunshine would
be lost on anything else."
" Don't understand," replied my com-
panion, rather earnestly.
I had no time to lose, for the sun was
getting low so I came right to the
point. Nothing but a hearty slap will
waken a sleepy-headed man.
" Theophilus," said I and I glanced
at the well-formed head and open coun-
tenance of the man, and saw he was
worth talking to, notwithstanding his
drooping shoulders and listless habits.
" Theophilus," said I, putting my hand
on his shoulder, "I know you love Jane:
I know you won't gfat her, unless you
change veiy much in some things. I
am going to leave here in a short time,
and I want to have a plain talk with
you before I go, because I like you.
You won't be offended ?"
" No."
" You have one grand fault. It has
wrapped itself all around you like a boa-
constrictor which you saw in the show
here last March. It is sliming you over
with its saliva, and will swallow you up
presently, before you know it."
" What do you mean, Doctor ?"
"Just exactly this : you are lazy
daily becoming more so."
" Well, fact is, I believe I am, but I
don't see why I should slave myself.
I make enough for me and Lucinda to
live on. And if I ever do marry"
here he coloured " I dare say some-
thing will turn up. Everything is
cheap. I will have a plenty to live
on."
Phidias cut a Venus out of the
quarries in Mount Hybla. Here was a
rougher, deader quarry, to get a perfect
man out of.
" You were created by God ?"
" What a question ?"
" Well, He is working out some great
plan in the millions that have trod, are
treading, and will tread the earth. He
don't create these millions by millions,
but individual by individual, giving
each man his peculiar duty in the world.
He made you to do something or He
would not have made you at all there
would have been no object in it."
" Very well."
" You see, no man was created to be
nothing and do nothing. Every man
has his own business, and it is his duty
to God to do all he can, to the utmost
of his strength in that business for
God as loudly commands you to be not
slothful in bu&iness, as He does not to
steal, lie, or murder."
"I see!"
" There are many different sorts of
business in this world. It is by division
oi labour that each is carried on; just
as in a large printing establishment;
one class of workmen have the sole
106
" THAT LAZY FELLOW.'
duty of preparing the paper ; another
the duty of setting the type ; another
the duty of passing the sheets through
the press ; another the duty of receiving
them from the steam-driven cylinders ;
another the duty of taking them, thus
completely printed, and folding them
for the post or for binding. You see,
by the energy of each class, and of each
individual of each class, the whole work
moves with order and speed, scattering
printed sheets over the reading world.
Whether a man plough, or plead law,
or act as legislator, or sell goods, or
doctor, it is only when a man throws
his whole force into his peculiar busi-
ness that he does his duty. Every blow
of Peter's hammer down yonder in the
blacksmith's shop, every piece of busi-
ness you do, every visit I pay as a
doctor, has a double object, you see-
individual profit and general improve-
ment at least it ought to have. Well,
then, every wasted moment, eveiy half-
effort of any man, is just so much lost
lost to the man himself lost to the
public. Every one of us has his busi-
nessevery man's work in that business
has a certain value. Every hour, then,
you waste on this box in lazy trifling,
not only confirms you in the disease of
indolence, not only habituates your
mind to idle thought and talk but
eveiy such an hour is an actual and de-
liberate theft of just so much value as
that hour spent iu work would have
yielded a theft from your own fortune,
Theophilus, and a theft from the pub-
lic."
"Every nirtn has his place, Doctor.
Mine is a mighty little one. Not much
to be done in it ! "
" Yes, but do you do with all your
might att you can possibly do in it ? "
" Why, no ; I might do a great deal
more business if I would, but I do
enough to make a living; that's all I
want."
"Ah, but what do you mean by a
living? The living a rational man
ought to live, is not only to have plenty
of food and clothing, but plenty of
books and papers for the living of his
mind pictures and statuary too, where
it can be afforded. You ought to be
active too, if it was only not to set an
example of laziness if it was only to
stir everybody all around you into
greater energy and enterprise by your
example. Besides, you ought to get
rich as fast as you can if it was only
to increase your power of doing good."
"Doing good? Pshaw, you are
preaching ! "
" Yes, doing good. If you were rich
you could educate orphans, build asy-
lums and colleges. If you had five
thousand pounds to spare, and the soul
to give it, you might build up a free
school in this very town, which would
give all the children a good education,
and refine and improve the place be-
yond any thing you can think. If you,"
continued I, " had spent those hours in
some business which you have spent in
lying on this box doing nothing, you
would be able to do it now and would
thus have made yourself a blessing to
the town for ever ! "
My lazy friend here clasped his ever-
lasting knife and put it in his pocket.
It was a good omen. "Theophilus,''
said I, standing in front of him, " con-
sider, will you, my dear fellow, what a
tremendous mass of work is upon all
men now? The generation passing
away is leaving to us the world-wide
business which has strained its efforts
to the utmost. The cultivation of the
immense raw material consumed in the
ten thousand manufactories of the
world, is passing from their hard hands
into ours. The machinery of these ten
thousand manufactories has to be kept
up in uninterrupted speed. The innu-
merable roads and vessels by which the
commerce of the world is carried
through it; the million inventions by
which cities are lightsd with gas, by
which thought is flashed on lightning
around the world, by which all surgery
is performed without pain pshaw ! you
know all the thousand new inventions,
from a new plough to a new telescope
all these have to be kept up in full
use."
" But, Doctor "
" Wait a moment ! our Government
has to be kept up, too, in all its
branches made to do more and more
THAT LAZY FELLOW."
101
for its own citizens more and more for
the freedom of the old world. What a
vast amount of legislating has to be
done ! and what a vast deal of voting ;
and of reading, and thought, that the
voting may be intelligent and good !
The vast system of education, too, has
to be kept up. All the thousands of
schools and colleges have to be kept
supplied with able teachers."
" Don't know what you mean."
" I mean that our generation inherits
the work of the six thousand years
since creation has to keep it up in full
vigour. Besides, millions of acres more
have to be brought under cultivation.
Thousands of manufactories more have
to be established. Thousands of new
steamships have to be built. Thousands
on thousands of miles of railroads and
telegraphs have to be added to those
now in use."
" Plenty of work to do, I'll acknow-
ledge."
" That's not all ; all the thousand
new evils of this new age have to be
held down and strangled. Intemper-
ance has to be banished ; quackery in
science and politics has to be unmasked
and killed. The world, my dear fellow,
has a vast deal to do, and a vast deal of
evil to be kept from doing."
"But / haven't to do all this ! "
" Very true ; but suppose everybody
was to sit on his tea- chest and say the
same ; would anything be done then ? "
My lazy friend put an almond in his
rtyrath, and slowly cracked it, as he
meditated my question.
" Theophilus," continued I, hoping
the glacier of his mind was slowly de-
taching itself under the warmth of my
eloquence, and was about to move.
"Theophilus," said I, "tell me; what
have you done since your father died ? "
''Well, I have sold goods, and chatted
with the neighbours, and and gone to
church on Sunday, and and and
that's all, I believe ! "
" Except eating your meals and sleep-
ing, and sitting out here in the sun,
without a bit more real thought than
occupies a bullfrog squatted on a log.
You said you wouldn't get angry, you
know," said I ; and I laid one hand on
each of his shoulders, and looked him
steadily in the eyes, while I continued,
with all the earnestness I was capable
of " Theophilus, in that head of yours
there sleeps a mind which you might
waken to think and will, in such a way
as to make you a blessing to yourself
and everybody. In that breast of yours
there slumbers a heart, which might be
roused to such a love to God and man,
as would warm you and all around you
through and through ! You might do
so much more ; you might be so much
happier if you only would. I hate to
see you live on hi such idleness. Why,
I would almost as soon see you lying in
the gutter there, in the mud, all the
time. Why, man, you are a living
corpse ! There is almost as little stir
about you you do almost as little in
the town, as if you were in the grave-
yard, instead of your shop. This tea-
chest is your coffin ; you are just as
useless, sitting idle on it, as if you were
lying dead in it."
" I believe you are half right,
Doctor."
" I am whole right. Just look at it.
If you were only to devote every hour
to doing something enlarging your
business, or improving your mind by
reading, or doing something or other,
it doesn't matter what, so that it be
something ! the habit of activity would
grow upon you ; your business and
your money would increase ; your mind
would act more the more you used it ;
your heart would warm ; you would be
a new man. You would feel like a
healthy man after a brisk walk on a
cold bright morning cheerful, hearty,
happy. You would enjoy your very
meals more. You would be far more
respected. You would become, at
least, very well off. You would be able
to marry Jane ; for I believe she loves
you in spite of your present laziness,
though she would have the sense never
to marry you, even if her mother would
let her, while you are what you have
been all along. You could build up a
bright and happy home. You could
hope to be elected to any office almost,
in the land. You see, a broad and in-
definite course of usefulness, and honour,
108
"THAT LAZY FELLOW."
and happiness is before you, if you will
only waken out of the mud of your
sloth, and think, and act, and live ! "
Theophilus hud risen from the box.
and stood before me really awakened.
That picture of Jane anil housekeeping
touched him.
"You may be as happy and as pro-
sperous as you please, by being active.
You will sink lower and lower into
brutal sloth, by being just as you are.
You ain't thirty years old, Theopbihu,"
continued I : " if now, in the spring and
heat of young blood, you are so lazy,
what on earth will you be when you get
older? What on earth but a poor,
miserable, idling, drivelling, chattering,
good-for-nothing old bachelor, rotting
before you are dead ; your soul dwindled
and dead within you, like the kernel of
a frost-bitten peach ? ''
" Strikes me, you talk plain enough,
doctor ? "
" Have to shout when one talks to
the deaf ! have to cut and slash when
the limb is mortified; have to apply
mustard plaster where we wart action
to follow."
'*' Well, doctor, what would you have
me to do ? "
" Do ? Why, split this tea-chest into
kitchen wood ; rise two hours earlier to-
morrow morning ; subscribe this even-
ing for a good newspaper and a maga-
zine ; clean out your shop, and paint it,
and fill it with goods, and advertise.
When you do talk, and when other
people talk wuth you, talk yourself, and
make them talk about something. When
you go to church, listen to every word
sung, or prayed, or preached, if it be
only for the sake of keeping your mind
busy. You are in a comatose state
stir about with all your might, or your
lethargy will become fixed."
Here the bell rung for supper, and I
arose.
" Much obliged for your visit, doctor ;
believe I'll take your mustard and
medicine don't know I'll see."
" Shall, if I can make him ! " said
Lucinda, who had been sitting near the
door inside, listening, with female
curiosity, to our talk, but keeping un-
seen and still. As she spoke, she came
to the door. Her eyes were really
awak.-, her cheek flushed, and I knew
my visit had not been lost, at least,
upon her. I could see the Venus start-
ing out from the block !
" Good bye, doctor," said both, a>
they shook me warmly by the hand,
which was unnecessary, as I was not
going to be absent from town. I an-
swered cordially, and walked slowly
away. The sun was just down. ''Rose
at four," murmured I, recalling the
events of the day; "read two hours;
did that strabismus case ; rode over to
Squire Smithers' ; read up Mrs. Milson's
case ; had a talk with that lazy follow,
Theophilus. Put thctf down iu note-
book among my ' Cases in Pikesville/
as ' Case of Mental Catalepsy : ' write
out treatment Watch Effects.
COBBETT'S OPINION OF WOMEN.
Women, so amiable in themselves, are
never so amiable as when they are use-
ful ; and as for beauty, though men
may fall in love with girls at play, there
is nothing to make them stand to their
love like seeing them at work.
" AH, Sambo," said a sick planter to
his attendant nigger, " I fear I'm going,
and I've a long journey before me."
"Neber mind, niassa," was the en-
couraging answer, " it's all down hill."
THE ART OF CONVERSATION is the
finest of the fine arts ; it is not the art
of saying much, but of saying well.
There are preaching men who talk, but
listen not ; or who speechify in private ;
or gossippiug men, who think little, and
are never still, and yet they are not
conversible men. The real art of con-
versation consists, not only in express-
ing your own thoughts freely, but in
drawing out by encouragement the
thoughts of others. You will never be
liked for long-talking, by anybody ; but
you are sure to be liked if, by your
talking, you encourage and stimulate
others to think and talk in response to
your thoughts. The art is a natural
gift in the main. It is not only a gift
of mind but also of temper. It requires
condescension, indulgence, patience, and
many other moral accomplishments, re-
finement as well as power.
THE PROGRESS OF DISCOVERY.
109
THE PROGRESS OF DISCOVERY.
WE are confirmed in the conclusion that
the popular diffusion of knowledge is
.-able to the growth of science,
when we reflect that, vast as the domain
of learning is, and extraordinary as is
the progress which has been made in al-
most every branch, we may assume as
certain, we will not say that we are in
its infancy, but that the discoveries
which have been already made, wonder-
ful as they are, bear but a small propor-
tion to those that will hereafter be
effected; and that in everything that
belongs to the improvement of man,
there is yet a field of investigation
broad enough to satisfy the most eager
thirst for knowledge, and diversified
enough to suit every variety of taste,
order of intellect, or degree of qualifica-
tion. For the peaceful victories of the
mind, that xmknown and unconquered
world, for which Alexander wept, is for
ever near at hand ; hidden, indeed, as
yet, behind the veil with which Nature
shrouds her undiscovered mysteries,
but stretching all along the confines of
the domain of knowledge, sometimes
nearest when least suspected. The foot
has not yet pressed, nor the eye be
held it ; but the mind, in its deepest
aliasings, in its wildest excursions, will
sometimes catch a glimpse of the hid-
den realm a gleam of light from the
Hesperian island a fresh and fragrant
breeze from off the undiscovered land
" Sabaean odours from the spicy shore,"
which happier voyagers in after times
shall approach, explore, and inhabit.
Who has not felt, when, with his very
soul concentrated in his eyes, while the
world around him is wrapped in sleep,
he gazes into the holy depths of the
midnight heavens, or wanders in con-
templation among the worlds and sys-
tems that sweep through the immensity
of space who has not felt as if their
mystery must yet more fully yield to
the ardent, unwearied, imploring re-
search of patient science ?
Who does not, in those choice and
blessed moments, in which the world
and its interests are Hot-gotten, and the
spirit retires into the inmost sanctuary
of its own meditations, and there, un-
conscious of eveiything but itself and
the infinite Perfection, of which it is
the earthly type, and kindling the flame
of thought on the altar of prayer who
does not feel, in moments like these,
as if it must at last be given to man to
fathom the great secret of his own be-
ing to solve the mighty problem
" Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and
fate?"
When we think in what slight ele-
ments the great discoveries that have
changed the condition of the world
have oftentimes originated ; on the en-
tire revolution in political and social
affairs which has resulted from the use
of the magnetic needle ; on the world of
wonders, teeming with the most impor-
tant scientific discoveries, which has
been opened by the telescope ; on the
all-controlling influence of so simple an
invention as that of moveable metallic
types ; on the effects of the invention
of gunpowder, no doubt the casual re-
sult of some idle expez-iment in alchemy;
on the consequences that have resulted,
and are likely to result, from the appli-
cation of the vapour of boiling water to
the manufacturing arts, to navigation,
and transportation by land ; on the re-
sults of a single sublime conception in
the mind of Newton, on which he
erected, as on a foundation, the glorious
temple of the system of the heavens ;
in fine, when we consider how, from
the great master-principle of the philo-
sophy of Bacon the induction of Truth
from the observation of Fact has
flowed, as from a living fountain, the
fresh and still swelling stream of mo-
i dern science ; we are almost oppressed
with the idea of the probable connexion
I of the truths already known, with
1 great principles which remain undis-
i covered, of the proximity in which we
! may unconsciously stand, to the most
I astonishing, though unrevealed myste-
I ries of the material and intellectual
world.
If, after thus considering the seem-
ingly obvious sources from which the
most important discoveries and im-
provements have sprung, we inquire
110
THE PROGRESS OF DISCOVERY.
into the extent of the field, in
farther discoveries are to
which is no other and no less than the
entire natural and spiritual creation of
God a grand and lovely system, even
: fectly apprehend it, but no
doubt, most grand, lovely, and harmo-
nious, beyond all that we now conceive
or imagine : when we reflect that the
most insulated, seemingly disconnected,
and even contradictory parts of the
system, are no doubt, bound together as
portions of one stupendous whole ; and
that those which are at present the
least explicable, and which most com-
pletely defy the penetration hitherto
bestowed upon them, are as intelligible,
in reality, as that which seems most
plain and clear ; that as every atom in
the universe attracts every other atom,
and is attracted by it, so every truth
stands in harmonious connexion with
every other truth ; we are brought di-
rectly to the conclusion, that every por-
tion of knowledge now possessed, every
observed fact, every demonstrated prin-
ciple, is a clue, which we hold by one
end in the hand, and which is capable
of guiding the faithful inquirer farther
and farther into the inmost recesses of
the labyrinth of Nature. Ages and ages
may elapse, before it conduct the patient
intellect to the wonders of science to
which it will eventually lead him ; and
perhaps with the next step he takes, he
will reach the goal, and principles de-
stined to affect the condition of millions
beam in characters of light upon his un-
derstanding. What was at once more
unexpected and more obvious than
Newton's discovery of the origin of
light ? Every living being, since the
creation of the world, had gazed on the
rainbow; to none had the beautiful
mystery revealed itself. And even the
great philosopher himself, while dissect-
ing the solar beam, while actually un-
twisting the golden and silver threads
that compose the ra /of light, laid open
but half its wonde,. ?. And who shall
say that to us, to whom, as we think,
modern science has d/sclosed the re-
sidue, truths more ^nderful than
those now known will t yet be re-
vealed?
It is, therefore, by no means to be
.ause the hum;m mind has
seeme. I 'or a longtime around
i results as ultimate principles
that they and the principles closely
connected with them are not likely to
be pushed much further; nor, on the
other hand, does the intellect always re-
quire much time to bring its noblest
truths to seeming perfection. It was,
we suppose, two thousand years from,
the time when the peculiar properties
of the magnet were first observed, be-
fore it became, through the means of
those qualities, the pilot which guided
Columbus to the American continent.
Before the invention of the compass
could take full effect, it was necessary
that some navigator should practically
and boldly grasp the idea that the globe
is round. The two truths are appa-
rently without connexion ; but in their
application to practice, they are inti-
mately associated. Hobbes says that Dr.
Harvey, the illustrious discoverer of the
circulation of the blood, is the only au-
thor of a great discovery who ever lived
to see it universally adopted. To the
honour of subsequent science, this re-
mark could not now with equal truth
be made. Nor was Harvey himself
without some painful experience of the
obstacles arising from popular igno-
rance, against Avhich truth sometimes
forces its way to general acceptance.
When he first proposed the beautiful
doctrine his practice fell off; people
would not continue to trust their lives
in the hands of such a dreamer. When
it was firmly established and generally
received, one of his opponents published
a tract De Circulo Sunguinis Salomoneo,
and proved from the twelfth chapter of
Ecclesiastes that the circulation of the
blood was no secret in the time of Solo-
mon. The whole doctrine of the Refor-
mation may be found in the writings of
Wiclif ; but neither he nor his age felt
the importance of his principles, nor the
consequences to which they led. Huss
had studied the writings of Wiclif in
manuscript, and was in no degree be-
bind him in the boldness with which he
denounced the papal usurpations. But
his voice was not heard beyond the
THE PROGRESS OF DISCOVERY.
Ill
mountains of Bohemia ; and he expired
in agony at the stake, and his ashes
were scattered upon the Rhine. A hun-
dred years passed away. Luther, like
an avenging angel, burst upon the
world, and denounced the corruptions
of the Church, and rallied the host of
the faithful, with a voice which might
almost call up those ashes from their
watery grave, and form and kindle
them again into a living witness of the
truth.
Thus Providence, which has ends in-
numerable to answer, in the conduct of
the physical and intellectual, as well as
of the moral world, sometimes permits
the great discoverers fully to enjoy their
fame, sometimes to catch but a glimpse
of the extent of their achievements, and
sometimes sends them dejected and
heart-broken to the grave, unconscious
of the importance of their own disco-
veries, and not merely undervalued by
their contemporaries, but by them-
selves. It is plain that Copernicus, like
his great contemporary, Columbus,
though fully conscious of the boldness
and the novelty of his doctrine, saw but
a part of the changes it was to effect in
science. After harbouring in his bosom
for long, long years that pernicious
heresy the solar system he died on
the day of the appearance of his book
from the press.
The closing scene of his life, with a
little help from the imagination, would
furnish a noble subject for an artist.
For thirty-five years he has revolved
and matured in his mind his system of
the heavens. A natural mildness of
disposition, bordering on timidity, a re-
luctance to encounter controversy, and
a dread of persecution, have led him to
withhold his work from the press, and
make known his system but to a few
confidential disciples and friends. At
length he draws near his end; he is
seventy-three years of age, and he yields
his work on " The Revolution of the
Heavenly Orbs," to his friends for pub-
lication. The day at last has come, on
which it is to be ushered into the world.
It is the 24th of May, 1543. On that
day, the effect, no doubt, of the intense
excitement of his mind, operating upon
an exhausted frame an effusion of
blood brings him to the gates of the
grave. His last hour has come : he lies
stretched upon the couch from which
he will never rise, in his apartment at
the Canonry at Frauenberg, East Prus-
sia. The beams of the setting sun
fiance through the Gothic windows of
is chamber; near his bedside is the
armillary sphere, which he has con-
trived to represent his theory of the
heavens; his picture, painted by him-
self, the amusement of his earlier years,
hangs before him; beneath it are his
astrolabe, and other imperfect astrono-
mical instruments ; and around him are
gathered his sorrowing disciples. The
door of the apartment opens ; the eye
of the departing sage is turned to see
who enters : it is a friend^ who brings
him the first printed copy of his immor-
tal treatise. He knows in that book he
contradicts all that had ever been dis-
tinctly taught by former philosophers
he knows that he has rebelled against
the sway of Ptolemy, which the scien-
tific world had acknowledged for a
thousand years ; he knows that the po-
pular mind will be shocked by his inno-
vations; he knows the attempt will
be made to press even religion into
the service against him ; but he knows
that his book is true. He is dying, but
he leaves a glorious truth, as his dying
bequest to the world. He bids the
friend who has brought it to place him-
self between the window and his bed-
side, that the sun's rays may fall upon
the precious volume, and he may behold
it once more, before his eyes grow dim.
He looks upon it, takes it in his hands,
presses it to his breast, and expires.
But no, he is not wholly gone. ^~
smile lights up his dying countenance,
a beam of returning intelligence kindled
in his eye; his lips move; and ths
friend who leans over him can heap
him faintly murmur the beautiful sen-
timents which the Christian lyrist of
a later age has so finely expressed in
verse :
" Ye golden lamps of heaven, farewell, with all
your feeble light;
Farewell, thou ever-changing moon, pale
empress of the night ;
112
ON POISONING BY ACONITE ROOT.
And thou, refulgent orb of day, in brighter
flames array'd,
My soul, which springs beyond thy sphere,
no more demands thy aid.
Ye stars are but the shining dust of my
divine abode,
The pavement of those heavenly courts,
where I shall reign with God."
So died the great Columbus of the
heavens.
ON POISONING BY ACONITE ROOT
(MONKSHOOD) MISTAKEN FOR
HORSERADISH. (See p. 96).
AT a recent meeting of the Medical
Society of London, Dr. Headland read a
paper upon the above subject, which
possesses much interest from the recent
accidental poisonings by aconite root in
Scotland.
After glancing at the history of the
plant, and its use as a poison in ancient
times, Dr. Headland referred to a
number of statements made by authors
in the middle ages, which showed that
the poisonous properties of the plant
were well understood by them. Poison-
ings by aconite in modern times were
usually accidental. A number of cases
in which the leaves and shoots had been
eaten with fatal effects, were first briefly
remarked upon, and then the cases of
poisoning by aconite root which had
been recorded in this country during
the last few years were divided under
two heads. First Cases of an over-
dose of some preparation given as medi-
cine. This was generally the tincture.
Second Cases in which the root had
been eaten by mistake as an article of
diet.
1st. Four cases of poisoning by the
tincture have been recorded during the
last five years. Othei-s are said to have
happened. Of these four persons, two
died from taking one fluid drachm of
Fleming's tincture ; one died from the
effects of twenty-five minims of the
tincture of the London Pharm. ; a fourth
barely escaped from a dose of fifteen
minims of the same. Two of these
cases were attributable to carelessness
in dispenseri?, one to ignorance of the
power of the preparation. The author
made three recommendations with the
hope of obviating such accidents for the
future : Firstly, to carry out the plan
of the Dublin College, requiring drug-
gists to keep all dangerous preparations
in square or angular bottles, and the
others in round bottles. Secondly, that
the tincture of aconite, if used, should
be made of one uniform strength (as far
as possible). At least three different
tinctures are in use in this country. Or,
thirdly, that it would be still better, to
discard this tincture altogether, as an
uncertain preparation, substituting for
it a solution of acouita of one fixed
strength, containing 1-6 00th of a grain
in each drop.
2nd. In nearly all the cases in which
aconite root had been eaten as food, the
singular error has been made of mistak-
ing it for the root of the common horse-
radish, and so scraping and eating it
with roast beef. The author read ac-
counts of four cases of this fatal error
which have occurred of late years, the
last of them being the recent tragedy at
Dingwall, in Scotland, when three gen-
tlemen lost their lives. To show that
such mistakes could not be committed
by careful persons, specimens and draw-
ings of horseradish and aconite root
were exhibited and compared. The
acid but not pungent taste of the aconite
parings, and the pinkish colour which
they assume when exposed to the air,
were amongst the points noticed.
The author, having noticed a singular
case of poisoned coffee, proceeded to
state that there were two ways in which
a case of aconite poisoning could be re-
cognised : 1. By the symptoms, which
are very characteristic. 2. By obtaining
some of the poisonous principle, by a
chemical process, from the contents of
the stomach and matters vomited, and
then trying its action upon small ani-
mals, or on the tongue, &c. There are
no distinctive chemical tests for it, but
1 -300th of a grain of the alkaloid (aco-
uitina) would kill a mouse, and 1-1 000th
placed on the tip of the tongue would
cause tingling and numbness.
AYith regard to the treatment of such
cases of poisoning, Dr. Headland recom-
mended the ' remediate and free admin-
istration of animal charcoal, mixed with
ON POISONING BY ACONITE HOOT.
113
water : this to be followed by a zinc
emetic, then by brandy and ammonia.
The charcoal has the power of retaining
and separating the poisonous alkaloid,
and if we have i-endered help in time,
the patient may perhaps be saved.
Dr. Guy had had no experience of
poisoning by aconite, but would refer to
one point in reference to the subject.
It might be supposed that the acrid
taste of the aconite would directly indi-
cate to the person eating that it was not
hot horseradish ; but this acridity was
not observed immediately ; a minute or
two, or even more, might elapse before
it was felt, and a good deal of food
might be swallowed before the taste
was detected.
Mr. Bishop spoke of the necessity of
caution in respect to the planting of
horseradish in the neighbourhood of
aconite.
Dr. Webster would be glad to find
the value of animal charcoal tested as
an antidote to aconite by experiments
on animals. He believed that a case of
poisoning by the root of aconite, not re-
ferred to by Dr. Headland, had occurred
in Lambeth.
Mr. Canton related the case of a pa-
tient who had taken an over-dose of
aconite by mistake, for rheumatic disease
of the eye. The man was found, shortly
after, so much affected as to be unable
to give an account of his sensations. He
was throwing his head back, rubbing
his throat, and suffering from symptoms
of general palsy, was restless, bedewed
with a cold perspiration, and with a
pulse scarcely perceptible. The pupils
were dilated. He had vomited con-
siderably, and stimulants, consisting of
ammonia and brandy, were given to him
freely ; counter-ii'ritation was also ap-
plied to his legs, and he got well.
Dr. Thudichum referred to the value
of small doses of aconite in the treat-
ment of pneumonia. He preferred a
tincture of the spirituous extract to any
other.
Mr. Headland inqu'red whether the
author was acquainted with the case
which occurred to Dr. Goldiug Bird, in
which two grains and a half of aconite
were taken by a gentleman, without de-
stroying life. He should be glad to
hear a little more decided evidence
respecting the condition of the pupil in
poisoning by aconite. He referred to
Dr. Garrod's experiments on the value
of animal charcoal in cases of vegetable
poisoning, and thought if this agent was
as valuable as stated, it should be always
in the immediate reach of the practi-
tioner. He ridiculed the notion of
treating disease by aconite in the doses
recommended by Homoeopaths, the
smallness of which defied all calculation.
Throwing a grain of calomel into the
Thames at Battersea-Bridge, and order-
ing the patient to drink the water at
Gravesend, to procure a mercurial ac-
tion, was dosing the patient largely,
when compared with the Hahuemahnic
prescription for the use of aconite. Mr.
Headland then mentioned that some
years since he took a drop of the tinc-
ture of aconite shortly before bedtime,
and finding no effect from it, he swal-
lowed another on getting into bed. He
was called up in the night, and on rising
was so giddy he could hardly stand, and
was obliged to take some brandy-and-
water before he could proceed to his
patient. Aconite required to be used
with extreme care and caution.
Dr. Headland, in reply, mentioned
that several minutes would elapse before
the tongue would be affected in any
marked degree by eating the aconite
root. In the case related by Dr. Gold-
ing Bird, the aconitine was no doubt
inert, as was the case with much that
was sold in the shops. (See p. 96.)
PREACHING AGAINST EXTRAVAGANCE
IN DRESS. Several of the popular
preachers in Paris have entered upon a
crusade against the lavish expenditure
of their lady hearers upon dress, the
waste of material especially exciting
their indignation. One of them, a bishop,
exclaimed in the height of his zeal, in
the midst of a 1'ate discourse, "Let
women remember, while putting on
their profuse and expensive attire, how
narrow are the gates of Paradise ! "
The man who stammers at his name
is in debt a certain symptom.
114
TIIO' i) SMILES.
THOUGHTS
WITHOUT economy none can be rich,
and with it few can be poor.
There is no grief like the grief which
does not speak.
In this world, purses are the arteries
of life ; as they are full or empty, we
.are men or carcases.
Time, with all its celerity, moves
slowly on to him whose whole employ-
ment is to watch its flight.
It is a heaven upon earth to have a
man's mind move in charity, rest in
Providence, and turn upon the poles of
truth.
The long morning of life is spent in
making the weapons and the armour,
which manhood and age are to polish
and to prove.
The sweet breath of Spring should
open hearts, as it uncloses myriads of
buds and blossoms.
It is more from carelessness about
truth, than intentional lying, that there
is so much falsehood in the world.
Few people are wise enough to prefer
the censure which is useful to them to
the praise which betrays them.
Wise men are instructed by reason ;
men of less understanding by experi-
ence ; the most ignorant by necessity ;
and beasts by nature.
Be not affronted at a jest. If one
throw salt at thee thou wilt receive no
harm, unless thou hast sore places.
It is a bad sign when a preacher tries
to drive home his logic by thumping
the desk with a clenched hand. His
arguments are so-fist-ic&l.
It is the nature of ambition to make
men liars and cheaters; to hide the
truth in their breasts, and show, like
jugglers, nothing in their mouths.
A million of blades of grass makes a
meadow, and millions of millions of
grains of sand make a mountain ; the
ocean is made tip of drops of water, and
life of minutea.
Love one human being purely and
warmly, and you will love all ! The
heart in this heaven, like the wandering
sun, sees nothing, from the dewdrop to
the ocean, but a mirror which it warms
and fills.
SMILES.
epitaph on a Neyro baby at Sa-
li, commences "Sweet blighted
" An independent man," said Pitt,
" is a man not to be depended upon."
To Widows. Never encourage weeds
Oncers look so much better.
Many a man's thoughts are like the
omnibus, there's hardly one of them
that doesn't run to the liauk.
" Is your watch a lever ? " " Lever !
yes. I have to leave her once a-week
at the watchmaker's for repairs."
A skull without a tongue often
preaches better than a skull that has
one.
Truth, they say, lies in a well. " For
my part," said a wit, "I thought it
the property of truth to lie nowhere."
Sir Thomas Overbury said of a man
who had boasted of his ancestry, that
he was like a potato" the best thing
belonging to him was underground."
An Irish student was once asked
what was meant by posthumous vx
" They are such works," said he, " as
a man writes after he is dead."
An American paper, in announcing
the opening of a new cemetery, says,
" Mr. had the pleasure of being first
buried there."
A queer gatherer of statistics says,
that of one hundred and fifty-eight
women whom he met in the streets of
a city in a given time, one hundred were
sucking their parasol handles.
When Milton was blind he married a
shrew. The Duke of Buckingham called
her a rose. " I am no judge of colour,"
said Milton, " but it may be so, for I
feel the thorns daily."
Mrs. Spekles says the best vegetable
pill yet invented is an apple dumpling ;
for destroying a gnawing at the
stomach, it is a pill which may always
be relied on.
Formerly, women were prohibited
from marrying till they had spun a
regular set of bed furniture, and, till
their marriages, were consequently
called spinsters, which continues to this
day in all legal proceedings.
THE ANTIQUITY OF MUSIC.
115
THE ANTIQUITY OF MUSIC.
THE first mention of music in the Bible
was about 3870 years before the Chris-
tian era. In the 4th chapter of Genesis
it is said, " Adah bare Jabal : he was
the father of such as dwell in tents and
of such as have cattle. And his bro-
ther's name was Jubal : he was the
father of such as handle the harp and
organ." From that time lawgivers,
prophets, apostles, poets, and philoso-
phers, have strenuously advocated the
cultivation of music, as a means of
soothing the evil passions, softening the
manners, improving the mind, and con-
tributing to devotion. From the time
of Moses, 1,571 years before the Chris-
tian era, music was constantly em-
ployed in religious and civil festivals,
as well as in public and private rejoic-
ings. The most sublime effect of music
on record is in Exodus, when, after the
passage through the Red Sea, Miriam
the prophetess took a timbrel in her
hand, and all the women went out after
hei % , and the praises of the Deliverer of
Israel were celebrated in the presence
of the assembled camp. There is no
reason to doubt that vocal and instru-
mental music were of contemporary
origin; and, as Jubal introduced the
one, so it was the belief of eastern na-
tions that either the same person, or
one of the same family, invented the
other. Music being thus introduced
by Jubal, it was in all probability known
to Noah, who instructed his family in
the art. When the world was repeopled
after the flood, it is not at all improba-
ble that Ham taught music to the Ba-
bylonians ; and when Ham went into
Egypt music was no doubt taken there,
together with many other arts. The
music of the Egyptians in those days
greatly resembled that introduced by
Jubal ; and if the Temple service re-
sembled the music of the Egyptians,
and our cathedrals imitate the Temple,
it is evident we have now amongst us a
remnant of the greatest antiquity.
Plutarch observes that nothing is
more useful than music to stimulate
mankind to virtuous actions, and parti-
cularly to excite that degree of courage
which 13 necessary to brave the dan-
gers of war. The Lacedaemonians
played upon the flute when approach-
ing the enemy. The Cretans, for
many ages, played their military
marches to a lyre. The Lacedaemonians
and Thebans had a flute upon their en-
signs ; the Cretans a lyre. Many an-
cient nations and cities impressed the
lyre upon their coins, as their particular
symbol. There is no doubt that music
formed a great portion of the religious
ceremonies of the Romans and Greeks.
There are no proofs that any other
language, except poetry, through the
medium of music, was admitted in the
rituals of pagan liturgies. The praises
and thanksgivings offered up to the
several deities were songs and choruses,
accompanied by musical instruments
and dancing, or by a solemn march and
gestures. Plato was such a friend to
the temple music as to wish that none
other should be used by gods or men :
and it has been clearly proved that in
all nations the first public use of music
was in the celebration of religious
rites and ceremonies. Christianity
being established in the East, peculiar
ceremonial observances originated there,
and were afterwards adopted by the
western Christians. St. Ambrose, it is
said, brought from thence the manner
of sing'.ng the hymns; and Eusebius
says, that a regular choir and method of
singing the service were first established
in the church at Antioch. St. Augustine
and Gregory have also left undisputed
testimony respecting the cultivation of
music in the western churches. In the
East, St. Basil, Chrysostom, and Jerome
make early mention of chanters and
canons being appointed to officiate in
the church daily. In the fifth century
Italy was laid desolate, and we may
readily imagine that the arts were
neglected. Music suffered the most, so
that at the beginning of the sixth cen-
tury, when the whole western empire
was the scene of revolutions, its
music was reduced to church chants
and a few national songs. After-
wards, when the Goths settled in Italy,
they cultivated the arts and soon
imitated the enlightened manners
of the people whom they had subjugated.
In the year 590, Pope Gregory the Great
116
VALENTINE'S DAY.
collected the musical fragments of such
ancient hymns as the primitive fathers
had recommended. After this period
the Roman schools of music shone with
renewed lustre. Music was also strongly
encouraged by Cloies, King of France.
In 787, when Charlemagne went to
Rome at the festival of Easter, a quarrel
arose with the singers of France and
Rome. The French affirmed that their
singing was superior to the Roman, and
the Romans accused the French of
having corrupted the Gregorian chant.
The dispute was carried before the Em-
peror, who decided by asking the
following question : " Declare to us
which is the most pure, water drawn
from its source, or that which is taken
from a distant stream ?" " Water from
its source," said the singers. " Well,
then," said the Emperor, "return to the
original source of St. Gregory, whose
chant you have evidently corrupted."
It is somewhat strange to find the
love of cruelty and the love of music in
the same persons, yet such was the case
with the Emperor Nero. He whose
cruelties are known to all instituted
exercises of music, poetry, and eloquence
to be performed in Rome every fifth
year. Amongst the ancients music exer-
cised a powerful influence. The father
of Cleopatra derived the nnme of
Auletes, or the flute-player, from his
excessive attachment to that instrument.
Some of the early Christian fathers say
that music drew many Gentiles into the
Church who, coming from mere curiosity,
liked its ceremonies so well that they
were baptised before they departed.
In the present day the character of
our Church music is such that it would
sooner drive persons out of the Church
than into it. In the reign of Edward IV.,
music, after living a vagrant life, passing
from parish to parish, seems to have
acquired a settlement, and letters patent j
were granted to certain persons who
were minstrels to the king. It cannot
too strongly be urged the advantages
which music possesses in a religious and
moral point QJ. view, the incitements to
its study are so numerous, tliat means
ought without doubt to be adopted t<>
accomplish its nationality.
VALENTINES.
SAIXT VALENTINE ! all we know of
this personage is, that he was a priest at
Rome, where he was martyred about A.D.
270, and had, in consequence, the honour
of being assigned a niche in the record
of saints, his post being the 14th
of February.
The origin of this custom has been
sought for in the Lupercalia of the
Romans, and with much apparent rea-
son, as will be evident when we come
to inquire into the old mode of cele-
brating Valentine's Day, which, as we
shall presently see, had but little in
common with the modern habit of
sending silly letters by the penny post.
In ancient Rome a festival was held
about the middle of February, called
the Lupercalia, in honour of Pan and
Juno, whence the latter obtained the
epithet of Fcbruala Februalis, and
Falrulla. Upon this occasion the
names of young women were put, amidst
a variety of ceremonies, into a box, from
which they were drawn by the men as
chance directed ; and so rooted had this,
like many other customs, become
amongst the people, that the pastors of
the early Christian Church found them-
selves unable to eradicate it. They
therefore, instead of entering into a
fruitless struggle, adopted their usual
policy on such occasions, and since they
could not remove what they held to be
an unsightly nuisance, they endeavoured
as a skilful architect would do, to con-
vert it into an ornament. Thus they
substituted other names for those of
women, a change that would not seem
to have been generally, or for any long
time, popular, since we read that at a
very remote period the custom prevailed
of the young men drawing the names of
the girls, and that the practice of
adopting mates by chance-lots soon
grew reciprocal between the sexes. In
fact, Pan and Juno vacated their seats
in favour of Saint Valentine, but the
Christian bishop could not escape having
much of the heathen ritual fastened
upon him. AVe must not, however,
ie that Valentine's Day, anymore
than Epu'hany or Caudlenia.', was cele-
VALENTINE'S DAY.
117
brated with one uniform mode of ob-
servance ; the customs attendant upon
it varied considerably according to the |
place and period. In many parts of j
England, and more particularly in Lon- j
don, the person of the opposite sex who i
was first met in a morning, not being j
an inmate of the house, was taken to be <
the Valentine, a usage that is noticed j
by the poet Gray :
41 1 early rose just at the break of day,
Before the sun had chased the stars
away ;
Afield I went, amid the morning dew,
To milk my kine (for so should
housewives do),
The first I spied, and the first swain
we see,
In spite of fortune, our true love
shall be."
That the lasses went out to seek for
their makes,or mates i. e., Valentines
is also shown in poor Ophelia's broken
snatches of a song :
" Good morrow '. 'tis St. Valentine day
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window
To be your Valentine."
Herrick has the following in his
Hesperides, p. 172 :
"TO HIS VALENTINE ON ST. VALEN-
TINE'S DAY.
" Oft have I heard both youth and virgins
say,
Birds choose their mates, and couples, too,
this day :
But by their flight I never can divine
"When T shall coupls with my Valentine.
In Dudley Lord North's Forest of
Varieties, fol. 1645, p. 61, in a letter to
his brother, he says : A lady of wit
and qualitie, who you well knew, would
never put herself to the chance of a Valen-
tine, saying that shee would never couple
liersdfe but by choyce. The custome and
charge of Valentines is not ill left, with
many other such costly and idle customes,
which by a tacit generall consent wee
lay down as obsolete."
We find the following curious species
of divination in the Connoisseur, as prac-
tised on St. Valentine's day or eve.
4< Last Friday was Valentine Day, and
the night before I got five bay-leaves,
pinned four of them to the four corners
of my pillow, and the fifth to the
middle ; and then, if I dreamt of my
sweetheart, Betty said, we should be
married before the year was out. But
to make it more sure I boiled an egg
hard, and took out the yolk, and filled
it with salt ; and when I went to bed,
eat ifc, shell and all, without speaking or
drinking after it. We also wrote our
lovers' names upon bits of paper, and
rolled them up in clay, and put them
into water ; and the first that rose up
was to be our Valentine. Would you
think it ? Mr. Blossom was my man.
I lay a-bed and shut my eyes all the
morning till he came to our house ; for
I would not have seen another man
before him for all the world."
Mr. Pennant, in his Tour in Scotland,
tells us, that in February young persons
draw Valentines, and from thence col-
lect their future fortune in the nuptial
state.
Oliver Goldsmith, in his Vicar of
Wakefield, describing the manners of
some rustics, tells us, they sent true
love-knots on Valentine morning.
Herrick, in his Hesperides, p. 61,
speaking of a bride, says :
44 She must no more a-maying :
Or by Rose-buds divine,
Who'll be her Valentine f '
Misson, in his Travels in England,
says : On the eve of the 14th of
February, St. Valentine's Day, a time
when all living nature inclines to couple,
the young folks in England, and Scot-
land too, by a very antient custom, cele-
brate a little festival that tends to the
same end. An equal number of maids
and bachelors get together, each writes
their true or some feigned name upon
separate billets, which they roll up, and
draw by way of lots, the maids taking
the men's billets, and the men the
maids' ; so that each of the young men
lights Tipon a girl that he calls his
Valentine, and each of the girls upon
a young man which she calls her's.
By this means each has two Valentines ;
but the man sticks faster to the Valen-
tine that is fallen to him than to the
Valentine to whom he is fallen. For-
tune having thus divided the company
into so many couples, the Valentines
118
PHYSIOLOGICAL TEST FOR POISONS.
give balls and treats to their mistresses,
we;u- their billets several days upon
their bosoms or sleeves, aud this little
sport often ends in love. This cere-
mony is practised differently in differ-
ent countries, and according to the
freedom or severity of Madame Valen-
tine. There is another kind of Valen-
tine, which is the first young man or
woman that chance throws in your
way in the street or elsewhere on that
day."
In Poor Robin's Almanack for 1676,
that facetious observer of our old cus-
toms tells us opposite to St. Valentine's
day, in February
" Now Andrew, Antho-
ny, and William,
For Valentines draw
Prue, Kate, Jib' an."
PHYSIOLOGICAL TEST FOR
POISONS.
IN our second Interview, (see p. 47) we
gave an account of Dr. Marshall Hall's
suggestion for detecting the presence of
poisons, which cannot be .fully demon-
strated by chemical agents by physio-
logical means ; that is, by the employ-
ment of small animals to demonstrate
the effects of the suspected poisons upon
their living systems. It appears that
in examining the contents of the stomach
of Mrs. Dove, poisoned at Leeds, this
test was employed, and with the follow-
ing results :
"Additional Report of the Analysis of
the Contents of the Stomach.
" As a further test of the presence of
poison in the stomach, and one which as
nearly as possible would amount to de-
monstration, we determined to try
whether the spirituous extract obtained
from the contents of the stomach,
already shown by chemical tests to
contain strychnine, possessed really the
poisonous properties of that substance.
"We selected for experiment two
rabbits, two mice, and a guinea pig, and
as the most exact method of acting
upon such animals with small quantities
of poison, we applied it by inoculation
through small openings, either in the
cellular tissue beneath the skin, or into
one of the serous cavities of the body ;
j also in one of the mice, giving a portion
! by the mouth.
" In each of these five animals thus
submitted to experiment the character-
istic effects of poisoning by strychnine
wore produced. In three of them (the
two mice and a vigorous rabbit) death
ensued respectively in two minutes,
twelve minutes, and fifty minutes, from
the first introduction of poison. The
symptoms preceding death were, dis-
turbed respiration, general distress, con-
vulsive twitchiugs or jerkiugs, tetanic
spasms, a peculiar outstretching of the
legs, and general rigidity of the body
symptoms which are exactly those com-
monly presented by strychnine.
" In the fourth animal, a rabbit, the
symptoms were equally well marked
and decisive, but although the animal
lay for a time nearly dead, it afterwards
revived and eventually recovered. In
the guinea pig the effects were at first
much more slight, the spasms were not
so strong as to throw it do\vn or
entirely disable it, but on the following
day it was found dead, with the muscles
rigid and the hind legs extended, as if
from the effects of the poison.
e ' For the purpose of comparison we
conducted at the same time a parallel
series of experiments on other animals
with ordinary strychnine. In these
animals the symptoms were exactly
similar to those produced in the five
acted on by the poison extracted from
the body of Mrs. Dove.
"They were, as a series, not more
severe and not more rapidly fatal.
These animal experiments, which add
the test of physiological effect to that of
the chemical reagents, decisively con-
firm our analysis, and, taking them in
connexion with the analysis and with
the symptoms observed during life, and
with the appearances noted in the body
after death, they afford, in our opinion,
the most complete proof that the death
of Mrs. Dove was from the poisonous
effects of strychnine, and from no other
cause.
"GEORGE MORLEY,
"THOMAS NUNNELEY, F.R.C.S.E."
As a scientific demonstration, it is
impossible to conceive anything more
DOMESTIC SCENES IN RUSSIA.
beautiful or more conclusive than this
evidence. The dumb animals which
formed the subjects of the experiments
of Messrs. Morley and Nunneley are
here summoned as unexpected wit-
nesses, whom no cross-examination can
shake, to bear irresistible testimony to
the cause of the death of Harriet Dove.
A NOBLE BOY. A boy was once
tempted by some of his companions to
pluck ripe cherries from a tree which
his father had forbidden him to touch.
" You need not be afraid," said one of
his companions, "for if your father
should find out that you had taken
them, he is so kind he would not hurt
you." " That is the veiy reason," re-
plied the boy, " why I would not touch
them. It is true, my father would not
touch me ; yet my disobedience I know
would hurt my father, and that would
be worse to me than anything else." A
boy who grows up with such principles,
would be a man in the best sense of the
word. It betrays a regard for rectitude
that would render him trustworthy
under every trial.
NOBLE REPLY TO THE FOUNDER OF
DULWICII COLLEGE. Sir Francis Calton,
who had foolishly squandered the pro-
perty left to him by his father, once
taunted Alleyn with having been a
player. To this Alleyn replied : " And
where you tell me of my poore originall
and of my quality as a player. What
is that ? If I am richer than my ances-
ters, I hope I rnaye be able to doe more
good with my riches than ever your
ancestors did with their riches. You
must nowe beai*e povertye, and if you
beare it more paciently than I, your
desert wil be the gretter. That I was a
player I can not deny, and I am sure I
will not. My meanes of living were
honest, and, with the poore abilytyes
wherewith God blest me, I was able to
do something for my selfe, my relatives
and my friendes, many of them nowe
lyving at this daye will not refuse to
owne what they owght me. Therefore
I am not ashamed." PETERS.
When should an inkeeper visit a
foundry? "When he wants a bar made.
DOMESTIC SCENES IN RUSSIA.*
IN almost every house some female art
is carried on, useful or ornamental ; and
the women are employed in spinning,
weaving, knitting, carpet-making, &c.;
for the raw material in Russia is worth
little, and the manufactured article alone
is valuable in the market.
The ladies of England, however, " who
live at home at ease," little know the
disagreeable and troublesome duties of
inspection and correction which thus
devolve upon the mistress of a family
in Russia, from all the various branches
of domestic industry which she is
obliged to superintend. The discipline
of the estate and of the household is
maintained by means of the lash, from
which neither sex is exempt. The fre-
quency and severity of its use depends
on the character of the master or mis-
tress, many of whom, like those among
whom I have lived, voluntarily limit
the application of this punishment to
male offenders, and always resort to it
with great reluctance. The system,
however, is revolting in itself, and it
necessarily opens the door to frequent
scenes of gross oppression and cruelty,
where, as sometimes happens, the power
is vested in hands nearly as rude as
those of the serf himself. All owners
of serfs are noble, but the law cannot
make them all gentle.
The following anecdote, which I am
assured is true, will illustrate the results
of serfdom, while it will remind you of
my remarks in a former letter on the
Russian system of military rank, as fur-
nishing the universal rule of precedence.
Among the serfs owned by a widow lady
was a girl, who had been brought up
with unusual indulgence in the house-
hold, receiving a superior education,
and acquiring manners far beyond those
of her class ; to which advantage,? was
.added the natural gift of an attractive
person. At a proper age she \va.s appren-
ticed at St. Petersburg to a French
dressmaker or milliner ; and having at-
tained to some skill in her business, she
was after a time offered profitable em-
ployment. This her mistress permitted
* By the Rev It. L. Yenables. London :
Murray.
120
SMOKELESS FIRES.
her to accept, on the usual payment of
an obrok to herself in lieu of peivonal
service. The girl conducted herself
well in her situation, acquiring a know-
ledge of French, and forming habits of
some refinement. Here she attracted
the notice of an officer of the rank of
colonel, who in due time proved his at-
tachment by offering her marriage. The
girl accepted his proposal, and nothing
remained but to obtain her freedom
from her mistiness, the consideration for
which or, in plain words, the purchase-
money the colonel was eager to pay.
This ought to have been regulated by
the obrok which the girl had paid, calcu-
lated at so many years' purchase. The
lover, however, was not inclined to dis-
pute the price the lady might demand,
but on applying to herand unfortunately
explaining the state of affairs, he re-
ceived for answer that on no terms
whatever would she emancipate her
slave. Every effort was used to shake
the resolution, which appeared unac-
countable ; but argument, entreaty,
and money Avere alike unavailing, and
the lacly remained inexorable ; giving in
the end the clue to her obstinacy by
observing that she would never see her
serf take precedence of her, as she would
do if married to a colonel, while she
was herself but the widow of a major.
The match was necessarily broken off,
and the girl's prospect of happiness
destroyed. To complete her misery,
her mistress revoked her leave of ab-
sence, and ordered her immediately to
re burn to her native village ; an order
which the system of passports and police
rendered it impossible to resist or evade.
Arrived in the village, the unhappy girl,
accustomed to the habits and comforts
of civilised life, was clothed in the
coarse garments of an ordinary peasant,
and was moreover ordered forthwith to
marry a rough-bearded moujik, or com-
mon country labourer. Revolting at
this tyranny, and refusing to obey, she
was flogged, and, though she still re-
sisted for awhile, a long continuance of
cruel and degrading treatment con-
quered her in the end, and she was
forced to submit to the miserable lot
entailed upon her by the wretched
jealousy of her remorseless mistress-
The story of this barbarity was told me
with an indignation as strong as could
be felt among ourselves, but there was
no redress for the sufferer. The mis-
tress up to a certain point had the law
on her side, and where she had not, as
in the compulsory marriage, might
overpowered right. That such a case
should be possible sufficiently condemns
the whole system of serfdom.
SMOKELESS FIRES, AND ECONOMY
IN COALS.
WE must say a few words more upon
the new method of making domestic
fires (see pp. 6, 71). We have received
many testimonies to the efficacy of the
improved system. The following, from
a correspondent of The Builder, is fully
corroborative of what we have already
asserted. E. R., it will be seen, has
acted upon our suggestion, respecting
the iron pl<'*c. :
"Your valuable notice of the new
mode of making a fire in a common
gnte, which shall save coal, and con-
sume a greater part of the smoke, only
requires universal adoption to become
one of the greatest blessings conferred
upon us in this smoky ergo, dirty me-
tropolis. Properly carried out, it would
effect a perfect revolution in stoves,
chimney-sweeping, fires from foul flues,
price of coals and coke, safety from
fire by shooting coals, smoky rooms,
cinders and dust (the whole of which
are nearly consumed), cleaner linen,
brighter atmosphere, and sounder
lungs. I have ever been a great advo-
cate for giving due credit to Mr. Cutler
for his admirable introduction of this
principle more than thirty years since,
when his patent was crushed by a com-
bination of the trade, who dreaded the
success of the patent. His more ra-
tional opponents afterwards acknow-
ledged its value ; and one stove-maker,
who would not join the combination, a
few years since, in a work on stoves
and chimneys, eulogised the principle,
and ignored the decision. His remarks
on this crushed patent, the writer fully
believes, first led Dr. Aruott to investi-
gate the subject, and to produce the
STARGAZING.
121
now-called Arnott's self-consuming,
smokeless stove ; but as simplicity is
the greatest charm in all novelties,
either patented or not, I conceive the
suggested and successful process, ap-
plied to the common stove, and imme-
diately at the service of all, without
screws and levers, or an expansive
smith's, ironmonger's, bricklayer's, or
mason's bill, is a most valuable boon to
society, if society wiil only universally
adopt it. I say if, for if it is prover-
bial what an obstinate person John Bull
is. I think insurance companies should
especially request, or specify to this
mode, as particularly safe, until some
more stringent means be ordered and
enforced. Furnace chimneys no longer
are permitted to pollute the air, and
vomit out their smoke; why, then,
should, in the aggregate, a far greater
nuisance be for one day permitted to
continue, when the public would in-
finitely gain, in every way, by the
change ? On seeing the notice in your
journal, I at once resolved to try the
new method, with, I must say. certain
misgivings. With my own hands I ad-
justed everything, even to the paper at
the bottom, and built up to the top bar
with coals ; then formed a sort of crow's-
nest, of paper, shavings, and wood, and
covered it lightly over with thin pieces
of coal. Judge of my horror, in
entering my room the next morning,
and finding my servant had taken it all
to pieces, and laid the fire in (I shall j
now call it) the antique way : fortu-
nately, it was not lighted. I therefore |
had it again pulled to pieces, and re-
placed as I had laid it, and lighted.
The next few minutes were most
anxiously passed, fearing I might be-
come the laughing-stock of family,
servants, and all. What was my de-
light, however, when I saw the coals
igniting one by one, and in half-an-hour,
without billows, or clouds of smoke, a
most cheerful fire : it was lighted at
nine, and by one o'clock it was so fierce,
that I was obliged to pour water on it
to keep it down. This occurred after
the paper at bottom had become burnt,
the draught being greater. I may also
add, that I have continued each day the
new process, only substituting sheet iron
at bottom, in place of paper. The
comfort and cleanliness are beyond all
conception, without considering the
economy. Fire-irons are scarcely needed,
it burning gradually downwards for
hours, according to the depth of the
stove. The deeper the stove the longer
it burns. I have placed a fire-brick at
the side of my stove an ordinary par-
lour one, owing to its being wider than
its depth. I would strongly urge all
persons not only to adopt the process,
but to recommend it for general use.
" E. R."
STAR-GAZING.
YES, dearest, each night I have gazed on that
star,
And fancied theenear me, though distant afar,
Have hoped that a place in thy thoughts I
might claim,
And watch'd the bright star while I murmur'd
thy name.
But oft, when its radiant beams were most
bright,
Auspicious, rejoicing my soul with its light,
A cloud, passing over, concealed from my view;
The bright orb of heaven which bound me to
you.
And so, O beloved ! when Hope seems most
fair,
And my heart in its gladness is light as the air,
Sad doubt cometh o'er me, and darkly doth
roll,
Its cloud of despair round the light of my soul
The cloud passes on, and again I can see
The beautiful star that unites me to thee ;
Still gazing I hope, and still hoping I pray,
That thus may the cloud from my soul pass
away.
THE LEARNED NEGRO. " Ca?sar,"
said a negro to a coloured friend of his,
" which do you tink is de most useful
ob de commets, de sun or de moon ?"
"Wall, Clem, I don't think I should be
able to answer that question." " Why,
you black nigger, don't you see it's de
moon, cos she shines in the night, when
we need de light ; and the sun shines in
the day time, when de light is of no
kinseconce." "Well, Clem, you is the
most learned darkey I eber seen. 1
guess you used to sweep out a school
house for a living."
122
THE ROMANCE OF A RHUBARB PIE.
THE ROMANCE OF A RHUBARB
PIE.
A SHORT time ago I saw a discussion in
your paper about the taste of plant <
"Being sometimes suspiciously like the
manure in which they have been grown.
Xow this is not a pleasant idea. It dis-
sipates at once all our fond romance of
science about the conversion of elements
into new forms. We may talk and
write to people for ever about oxygen,
hydrogen, Liebig, and Professor Way,
the glaring fact will still remain sus-
pended before the epicurean vision, that
in eating our forced or "strongly" grown
vegetables, we are not eating the re-
arranged, reorganised, or reconverted
elements of poor mild harmless humus,
but actually the very essence of some
horrid artificial manure company, or
one of those proud monuments of rural
greatness, an ungypsumised dunghill.
The question is one of national import-
ance, and I really felt much cast down
in mind when I read the facts, corrobo-
rated by those mystical hieroglyphics
"M.J. B."
In this mental condition I was looking
at the plants in my greenhouse, all re-
dolent of pure fresh chlorophyll, and I
was thinking that if it was really all a
dream that roses had a beautiful smell,
or whether some eastern genii had not
invented the famous attar to delude
mankind, or whether poets had not
been equally disingenuous when they
gave to the lily its whiteness, when my
eyes fell with delight upon two huge
pots containing most luxuriant stalks of
what I knew full well would soon be
converted into rhubarb pie. Now then,
I said to myself, will this great question
be decided ? Visions of past days and
dinners, in which rhubarb pie formed
a prominent part, came at once into
my mind's eye. And that smoky taste
what was that ? My mind reverted
insensibly but with horrid individuality
to the sheep of our respected vicar
then browsing in happy ignorance in
the churchyard. Should any of my
future dinners be from a haunch of this
mutton, and a pie of that smoky rhu-
barb ?
To settle the question, I had the
rhubarb in my greenhouse cut on
the spot, and the pie wherewith it
was inadi- wa< not smoky. " It is
1 the case, my dear," said a
gentle voice, " with forced rhubarb."
Alas ! my greenhouse rhubarb was
ie "lit with
clear unmistakable certainty. X<> per-
settle
the matter in favour of rearranged ele-
ments. The actual thing wi'li which
those pots and tubs v. inded
positively identical with that
smoky taste, and the glories of rhubarb
pie are with me among the things that
were at least that form of it which
proceedeth from tubs and pots with
their well-known covereings of straw.
Sic transit gloria rhubarb ; . R. Bree,
Strickland. Gardener's Chronicle.
READING ALOUD. There is no treat
so great as to hear good reading of any
kind. Not one gentleman or lady in a
hundred can read so as to please the
ear, and send the words with gentle
force to the heart and vmderstanding.
Indistinct utterance, whines, drones,
nasal twangs, gutteral notes, hesitations,
and other vices of elocution, are almost
universal. Many a lady can sing Italian
songs with considerable execution, but
cannot read English passably. Yet
reading is by far the more valuable ac-
complishment of the two. In most
drawing-rooms if a thing is to be read,
it is discovered that nobody can read ;
one has weak kings, another gets hoarse,
another chokes, another has an abomi-
nable sing-song, evidently a tradition
of the Way in which he said Watts's
hymns when he was too young to under-
stand them; another rumbles like a
broad-wheeled waggon; and another
has a way of reading which seems to
proclaim that what is read is no sort of
consequence, and had better not be
listened to.
WE heard a good joke once of a party
of young fellows, who found fault
with the butter on the boarding-house
table. " What is the matter with it ?"
said the mistress. " Just you ask it,"
said one. " it is old enough to speak for
itself."
THE ART OF THINKING.
123
THE ART OF THINKING.
TROM THE FRENCH OF DEGERANDO.
" Yea, at that very moment,
Consideration, like an angel, came,
And whipp'd the offending Adam out of
him;
Leaving his body as a paradise,
To envelop and contain celestial spirits."
Shakspeare.
MEDITATION, that great and universal
instructor of the human race, which
presides over all the creations of g
the parent of philosophy the sure
guide of the arts in all their applica-
tions, because it enlightens them with
geneiv.l principles plays a still more
important, and more extensive part in
the great process of moral development.
It is here that its value is most conspi-
cuous, for it puts man in possession of
all his powers, and elevates him to the
real dignity of his nature. In science
and in art, thinking elaborates the ele-
mentary facts furnished by observa-
tion and experiment ; in the work
of moral development, its object is,
to explore the inmost recesses of the
mind, to collect together those ele-
mentary phenomena which reveal to us
the great law of duty, and to familia-
rise us with a knowledge of ourselves.
In science and in art, thinking operates
only on ideas furnished by the senses
and the ntellect ; in the work of moral
education, it also excites those emotions
or feelings which, are associated with,
or which naturally flow out of our con-
ceptions of good, and which constitute
the immediate springs of action. Think-
ing, indeed, may be said to be the living
principle of wisdom ; and, if the prac-
tice of it be so difficult in the ordinary
course of study, and familiar only to a
small number of minds, it becomes still
more so, and is consequently less prac-
tised, in reference to moral objects. Iu
the acquirement of scientific truth,
thought is often aided by images of
sense, by descriptions and definitions.
In moral speculations, these exterior
aids do nob exist ; the mind is thrown
upon its own resources, is fed only by
its own aliment, and maintains itself by
its own native strength.
There is, in reference to morals, not
only an intellectual conception, but an
emotion or feeling: the one informing
the intellect, the other influencing the
will, the emotion or feeling flowing natu-
rally from clear conceptions of the ii>ftl-
lect. Such, indeed,is the imposing autho-
rity with which the Author of all things
has invested the law of duty, that the
conception of it has an effect upon the
heart more certain and more absolute,
according as it is presented to the mind,
under a form simple and free from all
that is foreign to its nature. It is, how-
ever, in vain, that we seek for the pro-
totype of this conception out of our-
selves ; externally we are presented with
a reflection r image only ; it is to be
found only within, in the inmost sanc-
tuary of consciousness. But it is not
sufficient that the conception should
merely be presented to the mind ; pains
must be taken to search for it, and to
keep it steadily before us ; ignorance and
inattention cover it as with a veil. It
does not generally happen that the law
of duty is violated with deliberate inat-
tention, but rather by neglecting _ to
study it ; and so far from evil ever being
committed for its own sake, it would be
next to impossible to resist the attraction
which surrounds the good, if we really
knew how to consider it in all its beauty.
It is not sxTfficient simply to glance at
our duties, they should be deliberately
reflected upon; their influence should
gradually extend through the whole of
our mortal nature ; should ramify
through, and penetrate its inmost folds ;
should, indeed, take entire possession of
us. Such is the end proposed by the
art of thinking, the first and the most
powerful of all arts, since it alone
enables man to enjoy the exercise of
those high faculties which his Creator
has endowed him with, and invests the
mind with true causative power.
Struck with the importance and preg-
nant character of this great art, the
ascetic writers and philosophers of an-
tiquity have, with praiseworthy indus-
try, endeavoured to develop its laws,
and we are indebted to them for a great
number of useful precepts, on a subject
on which precepts are indeed essential.
The art of thinking has, however, expe-
rienced the fate of other arts that have
124
THE ART OF THINKING.
become loaded with didactic rules. It
has become embarrassed by rules, use-
less both to such as are capable of acting
of themselves, and to those that are not
so ; for the first act naturally without
their aid, and the others are not in a
state to profit by them at all.
In tho hope of rendering the applica-
tion of rules easy and certain, they have
become purely mechanical, and conse-
quently deprived of their true principle
of action, both morally and intellec-
tually. Rules have been laid down as
to how to select a subject, how to deter-
mine it, how to circumscribe and divide
it : the proper times and places for
action and repose, for ideas and emo-
tions, have been assigned ; the bounda-
ries, the methods and formularies, have
all been laid down ; the exercise of the
moral and intellectual faculties has been
rigorously bound by a preconceived sys-
tem, utterly neglectful of the fact, that
in order that the faculties should fulfil
their destined functions, a certain degree
ef independence is necessary, and that the
first and most indispensable i-equisite
for thinking is, the acquirement of that
energy and freedom of the mind, which
allows the soul to appropriate to itself
the truths on which it meditates, as if
they sprang spontaneously from the
depths of its own being.
The truth is, that in reference to the
Art of Thinking, the difficulty does not
lie so much in the act itself at in the
commencement of the act ; not so much
In the cultivation of the soil, as in the
taking possession of it. The shores of
the regions of thought are steep and
rugged, and inspire feelings of affright
and terror to those who first approach
them. This is the true reason why the
Art of Thinking is really practised by
so few. In first attempting this diffi-
cult process, we are repulsed on all
sides ; memory assails us with a thou-
sand reminiscenes in the retreat we may
have chosen; capricious and wandering
phantoms of objects, long since removed
from us, return and impoi'tune us more
than the objects themselves ever did, j
crowding round us in every direction, i
If we strive to appease this tumult, a j
still more painful state often awaits us \
blank, void, and obscurity. Instead of
those fertile regions where we had hoped
to wander in joyous happiness, we dis-
cover a parched desert ; it is in vain that
we attempt to call up those heavenly
images that were to transport us to
Elysium ; they fly from us, and we fall
back upon ourselves, overwhelmed with
weariness, the mind seeming but a vast
solitude. By another effort the clouds
become dissipated ; ideas present them-
selves, yet confused, incoherent, and
disordered ; they escape us the moment
we try to seize them ; they confusedly
mix and interfere with each other, and
end by plunging us into a state the
most painful of all, viz. doubt and scep-
ticism. It is only when we have the
courage to traverse these three succes-
sive zones, so to speak, that we come at
last to that luminous and peaceful
sphere, where the fruit of meditation
and all its pleasures await us ; but we
are too often discouraged, and renounce
the enterprise as impossible.
A most important thing therefore is,
to facilitate the entrance to these regions
of thought : and this can be effected
only by a suitable preparation, the
proximate result of which is the attain-
ment of that state of mind which we
usually term self-possession. Self-pos-
session, however, does not exclusively
consist, as some mystical writers have
imagined, in isolating the soul from
every external influence. It is the
gathering together of all the powers of
the mind, and the disposing of them
with sovereign power. The pz-esence of
certain exterior objects may sometimes
second, rather than counteract this ener-
getic reaction ; whilst on the other hand,
the soul may, in the absence of external
objects, become plunged into idle leth-
argy. Self-possession is a state of mental
freedom, at once active and peaceful,
because well ordered ; but it is a state
not under the immediate dominion of
the will, nor is it easily acquired ; it is a
prerogative purchased by a long appren-
ticeship, and hence the error of those
inexperienced persons who present them-
selves at the door of the sanctuary, with
a confident hope of being instantly
admitted. Neophytes of a day, they
THE TEACHING OF SMALL THINGS.
125
wonder that they are not at once
initiated; they forget that _ they must
first become worthy of initiation by a
well-conducted life,'by order, regularity,
and temperance in all things, but espe-
cially by self-knowledge, and the habitual
practice of self-vigilance and self-con-
trol.
(To be continued.)
THE TEACHING OF SMALL
THINGS.
EXPERIMENTS familiar and vulgar to the
interpretation of nature do as much, if
not more, conduce than experiments of
a higher quality. Certainly this may be
averred for truth, that they be not the
highest instances that give the best and
surest information. This is not unaptly
expressed in the tale, so common, of the
philosopher, that while he gazed upward
to the stars, fell into the water : for, if
he had looked down, he might have seen
the stars in the water ; but looking up
to heaven, he could not see the water in
the stars. In like manner, it often
comes to pass that small and mean things
conduce more to the discovery of great
matters, than great things to the dis-
covery of small matters ; and therefore
Aristotle notes well, that the nature of
everything is best seen in its smallest
portions. For that cause he inquires
the nature of a commonwealth, first in a
family and the simple conjugations of
society, man and wife, parents and
children, master and servant, which are
in every cottage. So, likewise, the nature
of this great city of the world, and the
policy thereof, must be sought in every
first concordances and least portions of
things. So we see that secret of nature
(esteemed one of the great mysteries)
of the turning of iron touched with a
loadstone towards the poles, was found
out in needless of iron, not in bars of
iron. Bacon.
A DIVINE benediction is always invi-
sibly breathed on painful and lawful
diligence. Thus, the servant employed
in making and blowing of the fire
(though sent away thence as soon as it
burneth clear) ofttimes getteth by his
pains a more kindly and continuing heat
than the master himself, who sitteth
down by the same ; and thus persons
industriously occupying themselves,
thrive better on a little of their own
honest getting, than lazy heirs on the
large revenues left unto them. Fuller.
SUBTLETIES OF SCIENCE IN SAMPLES
OF SAND. A great impostor, of the
name of Simonides, was lately unmasked
by Professor Ehrenberg, of Berlin, the
celebrated microscopic discoverer of
the animalcular or shelly origin of chalk,
who, on examining with his micro-
scope, a pretended ancient manu-
script " discovered" by Simonides,
observed, that the " ancient" ink ran
above, not beneath, other ink of profes-
sedly less ancient or modern origin^ also
traced upon the parchment. Ths same
acute professor has just succeeded in
unkennelling a thief of gold coins, ab-
stracted on their way in a barrel, by
railway, to Berlin. When the specie
was abstracted, the barrel was filled
with common sand, and Professor
Ehrenberg procured specimens of sand
from the neighbourhood of every station
on the line, and, on microscopically
examining the samples, very soon iden-
tified the station whence the barrelled
sand must have come; the hint was
sufficient, and led to the identification
of the thief amongst the few employees
on duty at that particular place and
time.
INDUSTRY AND ITS BLESSINGS. People
may tell you of your being unfit for
some peculiar occupations in life ; but
heed them not. Whatever employ you
follow, with perseverance and assiduity,
will be found fit for you; it will
be your support in youth, and your
comfort in age. In learning the
useful part of any profession, very
moderate abilities will suffice great
abilities are generally injurious to
the possessors. Life has been com-
pared to a race ; but the allusion still
improves by observing that the most
swift are ever the most apt to stray from
the course. Goldsmith.
126
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY ALL
ROUND OUR HOUSE.
FURTHER DISCOVERIES MS THE
INHABITANTS OF OUR 11OI -
WE have described those muscles which
produce, under the direction of the
nerves, the motions of man ; and we
will only say further of them at present
that there are t\vo sets of muscles, act-
ing in unison with each other, to pro-
duce various motions ; they are known
by the general terms of flexors and ex-
tensors ; the one enables us to bend the
limbs, the other to bring the limbs
back to their former position. The
flexors enable us to close the hand, the
extensors to open it again. The flexors
enable us to raise the foot from the
ground ; the extensors set the foot
down again in the place desired. Now
consider for a moment the nicety with
which the powers of these muscles
must be balanced, and the harmony
which must subsist between them in
their various operations. When we are
closing the hand, if the extensor mus-
cles did not gradually yield to the
flexors if they gave up their hold all
at once the hand, instead of closing
with gentleness and ease, would be
jerked together in a sudden and most
uncomfortable manner. If, in such a
case, you were to lay your hand with
its back upon the table, and wish to
close the hand, the fingers would fall
down upon the palm suddenly like the
lid of a box. Again, consider how awk-
ward it would be in such a case. Our
walk through the streets would become
a series of jumps and jerks; when a
man had raised his foot, after it had
been jerked up, there it would stand
fixed for a second before the opposite
muscles could put on their power to
draw it down again. This case is not
at all supposititious. There is a derange-
ment frequently observed in horses, in
which one of the set of muscles becomes
injured, and we may frequently see
horses suffering from this ailment, trot-
ting along with one of their legs jerking
up much higher than the others, and set
down again with much difficulty, just in
described. Again, a most fa-
niiluu- illu.stnitiou is afforded by thecases
A ho squint. The eye is held
uckets by muscles which regulate
. These muscles are placed
on tho opposite sides of the eye. Those
on the left side draw the eye to the left,
and those on the right side to the right.
Now when a person squints, it is because
the muscles on one side of the eye are
too powerful for those on the other
side, and the eye is drawn over in their
direction . Such persons find it difficult
to keep the eye in its proper situation ;
to do so, they have to exercise a strong
mental effort by which the weaker
muscles are excited to stronger action.
The moment that effort is withdrawn,
the eye, with a kind of jump, slips out
of its place. A cure for squinting is
sometimes found in an ingenious method
of covering with a shade that corner of
the eye towards which the eye is un
duly drawn. This brings the weak
muscles of the opposite corner into
exercise, whilst the state of rest into
which the stronger muscles are thrown
weakens them, and thus the balance in
the powers of the muscles of the eye is
gradually restored.
It is also to be observed that very
nice proportions must exist between the
sizes of the muscles and the sizes of the
bones. 'If this were not the case, our
motions, instead of being firm and
steady, would be all shaky and uncer-
tain. In old persons the muscles be-
come weak and relaxed ; hence there is
a tendency in the movements of the
aged to fall, as it were, together : the
head is no longer erect, the body bends,
the knees totter, and the arms lean to-
wards the body, as if for support.
In the child a somewhat similar state
of things exists. The muscles have not
yet been properly developed, nor have
they been brought sufficiently under the
control of the nervous system. The
child therefore totters and tumbles
about, and it is not until it has stumbled
and tumbled some hundreds of times in
its little history, that the muscles have
become strong enough to fulfil their office,
or have been brought sufficiently under
the control of the nervous system to
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
127
perform well the various duties required
from them.
In all these things we recognise the
perfection of the divine works. We are
apt, too apt, to over look this perfection,
because we cannot discover defects ;
but, by speculating upon what incon-
veniences we might suffer, were not
things ordained as they are, we obtain
most cheering evidences of divine good-
ness and wisdom.
Well, having taken this view of the
muscular system of the external man,
let us turn our attention to another set
of muscles which have not yet been in-
cluded in our contemplation. The
muscles of which we have been speak-
ing are called the voluntary muscles,
because we have them under our own
control they are subject to the in-
fluences of our will.
But there is another set of muscles
which have not yet entered into our
contemplation. Where are they ? Let
us seek to discover them.
We speak of our hearts ; but, do we
know much of the subject of which we
speak ? We talk of the beating, or of
the palpitation of the heart. But, what
is it that causes the heart to beat ?
You cannot, if you wish it, make your
heart beat more quickly or more slowly.
Place your finger upon your pulse, and
notice the degree of rapidity with which
its pulsations follow. Now think that
you should like to double the frequency
of those pulsations. Say to the heart,
with your inner voice, that you wish it
to heat 120 times in a minute, instead
of 60. It does not obey you ; it does
not appreciate your command. Now
place your finger on the table, and your
watch by the side of your hand, and tell
your finger to beat the table 60 times in
the minute, or 100 times, or 150 times,
or 200 times, and the finger will obey
you because it is moved by muscles
which are subject to the will, while the
heart is composed of, and moved by,
muscles which are not subject to the
will.
Why should this be? Why should
man have the power to regulate his
finger, and not to regulate his heart ?
It might be well, perhaps, before read-
ing further, to set down the book, and
to endeavour to find a solution to this
pleasing and instructive problem. Why
should man have control over the
motions of his finger, and have no con-
trol over the motions of his heart ?
What is the office of the heart ? It
is the hydraulic machine, by which
blood is circulated through the system !
What is blood ? How is it produced ?
Why does it circulate ? How does it
circulate? These are notes which we
must make, in our Book of Discoveries,
as subjects upon which which we must
seek information.
But now to the solution of our pro-
blem ; a solution which shall afford a
most beautiful and perfect illustration
of the goodness and wisdom of our
Creator. For the sustentation of our
bodies it is needful that the blood
should ever be in circulation. If the
heart were to cease beating only for
three or four minutes (perhaps less)
life would be extinct. In this short
time the whole framework of man,,
beautiful in its proportions, perfect in
its parts, would pass into the state of
dead matter, and would simply wait
the decay that follows death. The eye
would become dull and glazed, the lips
would turn white, the skin would ac-
quire the coldness of clay, love, hope,
joy, would all cease. The sweetest, the
fondest ties would be broken. Flowers
might bloom, and yield their fragrance,
but they would be neither seen nor
smelt ; the sun might rise in its brightest
splendour, yet the eye would not receive
i ts rays ; the rosy-cheeked child might
climb the paternal knee ; but there,
stiff, cold, without joy, or pain, or emo-
tion of any kind, unconscious as the
block of marble would sit the man
whose heart for a few moments had ceased
to beat.
How wise, then, and how good of God,.
that he has not placed this vital organ
under our own care 1 How sudden
would be our bereavements how fre-
quent our deaths, how sleepless our
nights, and how anxious our days, if we
had to keep our own hearts at work, and
death was the penalty of neglect.
And yet, before we pass from our
128
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
mother's womb, until we have reached
life's latest moment, through days of
toil and nights of rest even in the
moments of our deepest sin against the
God who at the time is sustaining us
that heart beats on, never stopping,
never wearying, never asking rest.
And this brings us to another reflec-
tion to most of us, another discovery.
Our arms get weary, our legs falter from
fatigue, the mind itself becomes over-
taxed, and all our senses fall to sleep.
The eye sees not, the ear is deaf to
sound, the sentinels that surround the
body, the nerves of touch, are all asleep,
you may place your hand upon the
brow of the sleeping man, and he feels
it not. Yet unseen, unheard, without
perceptible motion, or the slightest jar
to mar the rest of the sleeper, the heart
beats on, and on, and on. As his sleep
deepens, the heart slackens its speed,
that the rest may be the more sound,
and that his senses may not be weakened
by the slightest disturbance. He has
slept for eight hours, and the time ap-
proaches for his awakening. But is the
heart weaiy that heart which has
toiled through the long and sluggard
night ? No ! The moment the waking
sleeper moves his arm, the heart is
aware that a motion has been made,
that effort and exercise are about to
begin. The nerves are all awakening to
action ; the eye turns in its socket, the
head moves upon the neck ; the sleeper
leaves his couch, and the legs are once
more called upon to bear the weight of
the body. Blood is the food of the eye,
the food of the ear, of the foot, the
hand, and every member of the frame.
While they labour they must be fed
that is the condition of their life, the
source of their strength. The heart,
therefore, so far from seeking rest, is
all fresh and vigorous for the labours
of the day, and proceeds to discharge its
duty so willingly, and so ably, that we j
do not even know of the wonderful I
movements that are going on within us.
Thus we have seen clearly the dif-
ference between the voluntary and the
involuntary muscles, and we have per-
ceived the goodness of our Creator in
not entrusting to our keeping the con-
troul of an organ so vital to life, as the
heart.
But the heart is not the only organ
which thus works unseen and unfelt.
There are the lungs and the muscles of
the chest, the stomach, and other parts
occupying the abdomen, together with
all those muscular filaments which
enter into the structure of the coats
and valves of the blood-vessels, and
which assist to propel the blood through
the system.
All these are at work at every mo-
ment of man's life ; and yet, so perfect
is this complicated machinery, that we
really do not know, except by theory,
what is going on within us. Why, at
eveiy moment of our lives the most
wonderful movements and changes are
going on within our bodies.
During the time that the sleeper has
been at rest, the stomach has been at
work digesting the food which was
last eaten. Then the stomach has
passed the macerated food into the
alimentary canal, the liver has poured
I out its secretion, and produced certain
i changes in the condition of the dis-
solved food ; and the lacteals, of which
there may be many thousands, perhaps
millions, have been busy sucking up
those portions of the food which they
knew to be useful to the system, whilst
they have rejected all those useless and
noxious matters upon which the liver,
like an officer of health, had set his
mark, as unfitting for the public use.
This busy life has gone on uninter-
ruptedly, every member of that body,
every worker in this wonderful factory,
has been unremitting in his duty, and
yet the owner, the master, has been
asleep, and wakes up finding eveiy
bodily want supplied.
We have spoken of the liver, the
lacteals, the stomach, and the alimen-
tary organs connected with the stomach.
We have not, however, sufficiently ex-
plained their interesting functions,
structures, and situations. We shall
give these organs special notice when
entering upon other branches of our
subject.
We will now, as we are examining
the internal man, suppose that instead
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
129
of his being covered with an opaque
skin, that he is covered with a substance
as clear as glass, and that, therefore, we
are enabled to see every movement that
occurs within the body.
What an astonishing sight would,
under such circumstances, meet our
view. That which would probably strike
us most would be the wonderful net-
work of bloodvessels that everywhere
pervade the body. When we talk of
a bloodvessel, our idea is simply of a
fine tube through which the blood
passes. But when we consider that
these bloodvessels are so fine, and are
so thickly distributed, that we cannot
prick the finger, or any other part of the
body, without opening several of these
vessels, and allowing the blood to
escape therefrom, we must be impressed
with a sense of their wonderful minute-
ness, and of the immensity of their
number.
We should, if examining a trans-
parent body, see many millions of these
bloodvessels ; we should find them
entering into every tissue, enfolding
every fibre, and passing into the very
centres of the bones.
We should, moreover, discover two
sets of vessels. In one of these sets we
should see a bluish blood travelling
along, and in the other set, we should
find the blood to be of a bright red.
We should find the blue blood, in what-
ever part of the body it was discovered,
travelling towards the heart ; and the
red blood, under all circumstances, and
in all places, would be travelling from
the heart.
The vessels containing the blue
blood are known as veins ; those which
contain the red blood are the arteries.
The red blood is flowing forth from the
heart to feed the members of the body ;
the blue blood is the exhausted, or
impure blood, which has yielded up its
nourishment, passing back to the heart,
to be thence transmitted to the liver
and the lungs, to throw off the impuri-
ties it contains, and to take up fresh ele-
ments of nutrition to support the body.
That which we have supposed to be
seen, in the foregoing remarks, may
actually be witnessed, at least, as far as
the circulation of the blood is concerned.
If you take a frog, and place its foot
upon a microscopic slide, so as to bring
the thin and semi-transparent web of
the foot on the field of the instrument,
you may see most distinctly the blood
circulating through the vessels, darting
along with the utmost rapidity, the
motions of the heart of the animal
being increased by the fright it expe-
riences, at being made captive.
And what will be the appearance of
the blood seen passing in those vessels ?
Not certainly that of a mass or stream
of blood, as usually witnessed by the
naked eye. The blood itself will pre-
sent a most curious appearance ; instead
of looking like a red stream, in which
no organic shapes can be discovered, it
will be found to consist of a number of
egg-like bodies, having a red centre,
with a transparent shell, and these egg'
like bodies will be found surrounded
with a watery fluid, in which they float,
and are carried in rapid succession
through the bloodvessels.
The human blood, like that of the
frog, and indeed of all animals, is found
to consist of small egg-like vesicles,
suspended in a watery fluid.
We shall have now to inquire whence
this blood is derived. We shall have
to follow its course of circulation, and
watch the changes that it undergoes.
And we shall have to inquire why the
blood thus circulates, and why it under-
goes the changes described.
When we have done this, we shall
have completed the first object of our
discovery ; we shall have examined the
physical and physiological features of
the inhabitant of the little world at
home, which we are about to explore.
Whence comes the blood ? The
blood is usually understood to proceed
from the heart. And so it does, me-
chanically speaking. But the blood no
more originates in the heart, than water
originates hi the pump which supplies
our house. The heart is simply the
machine by which the blood is kept in
motion. There is no one organ of the
body which can be said to produce
blood, since several organs are engaged
in its formation.
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
"\Ve will, therefore, begin with the
bcLiiming. And really, to do so, we
must walk down into the kitchen, whore
Betty has just set a mutton chop upon
the gridiron, and confess that blood-
forming has commenced with Betty's
opera t ions upon tb e mutton chop. Yes,
that identical chop, now spirting out its
fat upon the fire, is destined to enter
into a new life ; its own particles will be
broken up and destroyed (and that is
i Jetty is assisting to do) ; then those
particles, reformed and reorganised,
will go to swell the numbers of the
little egg-shaped bodies in the blood,
ind in a few hours that piece of mutton
will become a part of man !
Our kings and courtly ladies, and all
who pride themselves as being greater
than their fellow-beings, may learn hu-
mility from this one lesson at least they
are flesh of the same flesh. One may
feed upon venison and game, the other
upon beef and mutton, but the same
fact governs the cases of all mankind
that the flesh of the slaughtered animal,
or of the substance of the plucked fruit,
becomes a part of the bodily substance
of the human being. And, however
daintily one man may live, or however
plainly another, they are one in flesh
and blood, and no earthly wealth or
wisdom can elaborate a distinction.
Well, now that Betty has done her
part in the laboratory of the kitchen,
now that she has, by the application of
heat, softened the muscular fibres of
the chop and set its juices free from
the vessels and tissues in which they
were held bound, let us consider what
tekes place when the chop is delivered
up to its owner in the dining-room.
With the knife and fork he separates
the large substance into smaller pieces ;
then he places one by one these small
pieces into the mouth, where they are
subjected to the grinding operations of
the teeth the object still being to
destroy the organic formation of the
chop to reduce what we call mutton to
the simple state of matter. And to
accomplish this, two agencies, or indeed
we u;a.y say three, will be employed.
The fir.st is the mechanical agency of
he teeth, and the internal parts ; the
next is the chemical agencies of the
salivary, the -as trie, and the biliary
juices ; and the third is the effect of
heat in the body, &c.
What we want to impress strongly
upon the reader is, that this mutton
must be torn to pieces, macerated, par-
boiled, and wholly changed in its
condition, before it can become part of
the man who eats it.
While the teeth are tearing it, the
glands of the mouth pour in the salivary
juice, which saturates the masticated
mutton, and in this state it is passed
into the stomach. Now, the stomach
is a sort of bag, not unlike in shape the
bag of a Scotch, bag-pipe. It lies across
the body, and has a motion something
like that which we may notice in the
leech, or in the red worms which crawl
the earth a series of muscular rings
passing along, the body keep up a con-
tinual motion from one extremity to
the other.
Let us suppose, now, that we see the
mutton chop, broken all to pieces by
the teeth, now resting in the chamber
of the stomach : the stomach, stimulated
by the presence of the food, begins to
move, and to roll the meat about ; and as
it rolls there enters from the sides of the
stomach a powerful juice, called the
gastric juice, which assists in dissolving
the particles of the chop. And as this
juice becomes mingled with it, the chop
turns soft and pulpy, and the stomach
begins to work more actively, and to
throw the pulp formed out at its
lateral extremity. But at that ex-
tremity there is a door-keeper, in the
form of a valve, something which
closes the outlet as an india-rubber
ring would close the neck of a purse.
If the matter which goes up to
the valve, or outlet, be soft, and
well dissolved, the valve will allow
it to pass; but if there are still
lumps of undissolved meat bits of
the chop still remaining, the valve
will not allow them to pass, but
sends them back, a-nin and auain, until
they are dissolved, One form ( >f indi-
gestion arises from the inability of the
stomach sufficiently to dissolve the
food. When the stomach is debilitated
A JOURNEY OP DISCOVERY.
131
by excef ses, or when the general vigour
of the system is failing, the strength of
the stomach fails also. Then arise
" head- aches " and " heart-burns,"
showing that other parts of the system
sympathise with the debility of the
stomach.
We may say, therefore, that the mut-
ton ceases to be mutton, when it leaves
the stomach. But it has not yet com-
menced to be a part of the man. It is
now simply a broken and pulpy mass,
and has become an inorganic substance,
in a state now fitted for reorganisation.
As it leaves the stomach, and is pass-
ing through a passage which com-
municates with the bowels, it is acted
upon by the biliary juice of the liver.
The moment this juice acts upon the
substance, which has of course become
mixed in the stomach with other sub-
stances such as the potato and the
bread eaten with the chop, the salt and
pepper used for seasoning it, &c. &c., a
remarkable change takes place in its
condition one part of the matter pass-
ing through the tube to enter the bowel,
is acted upon by the juice of the liver,
and turns yellow, but upon the surface
of this may be seen numerous little
globules of a milky substance this
which is, in fact milk, the nourish-
ment which the body will derive from
the food taken. But although it is
formed into milk, it cannot nourish the
body in that state it must first be
converted into blood. How, then, is this
accomplished ?
As the nourishing and the refuse mat-
ter are passing together through the
bowel, the nourishing part, the milky
globules, already spoken of, are
taken up by a set of vessels called lac-
teals, whose mouths open on the inside
of the bowel. The reader should notice
this, because it is commonly supposed
that the nourishment derived from food
passes at once into the bloodvessels and
becomes blood. All these vessels, then,
convey their gleanings to one larger
vessel, by which the whole of the
nourishment is borne upwards to a
great vein, situated near to the heart,
and which is bringing back to the heart
blood which, having gone the round of
the body, has become impoverished,
and comes back to be purified and re-
stored. With this blood the nourish-
ment goes into the heart, and from the
heart is sent through another set of
vessels into the lungs there it throws
off carbon, in the form of carbonic acid
gas, and takes up oxygen, or vital air ;
and, from this moment it is probable,
that the dead mutton, so lately frizzling
upon the gridiron, has acquired life again
in a new form. That it now exists in
numerous little ' egg-shaped vesicles,
and that, in this shape, it is about to
travel through the body, repairing and
uniting with nerves, muscles, or bones
becoming a part of an eye, an ear, or
a nose, or any other member of the
living system.
For this purpose, after it has been
vitalised in the lungs, it goes back to
the heart, to be distributed through the
body, and to fulfil its ultimate destina-
tion.
The circulation may be thus de-
scribed. The heart sends out through
one large bloodvessel a constant stream
of blood ; this vessel branches off into
vessels of smaller size, and these into
smaller ones again just as the roots of
a tree commence in large branches
near the trunk, and then taper away,
until they become as fine as silk. Well,
these vessels are called arteries they
convey the nourishing blood through-
out the body, and when they reach
their extremities they are met by the
veins, which receive from them what-
ever parts of the blood the arteries have
not employed for purposes of nourish-
ment in their course. As the arteries
grow smaller, so the veins grow larger
from the point at which they receive
the blood. The small veins merge into
larger ones ; they have to collect the
impure blood and take it back to the
heart to be mixed with fresh nourish-
ment, and to be again vitalised hi the
lungs.
These, then, are the wonderful ope-
rations which we should see incessantly
going on, if we could look into a glass
body and watch the changings and
workings that are for ever in progress
within the system.
132
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
It transpires from these facts and ob-
servations that the wonderful opera-
tions of birth, decay, and death, are
continually going on within us. Man,
so far as his organic substance is con-
cerned, may be said to decay and die
many times in the course of a life-time.
His substance is continually under-
going renewal. Were it not so, what
would be the necessity for, and what
would be use of, the large amount of
food which man consumes daily, and
which as it accumulates in the course
of years, swells to an amount that is
perfectly astounding ? Let our fellow
discoverers open their note-books, and
make the following calculations :
Suppose a man to live eighty years,
and to consume on an average two
pounds of vegetable substance, say one of
bread, and another of other vegetables,
and one pound of animal food. How
many quarters of wheat, how many
sacks of potatoes, how many oxen,
sheep, poultry, &c., would be devoured
in a lifetime ? These are interesting
and important speculations, and we
leave them to some of our fellow-
travellers to work out. We have already
made calculations upon the subject,
but we wish to kindle an interest in the
minds with which we are associated in
this "Journey of Discovery," and there-
fore we set them something to do for
themselves.
"VVe have now given such a view of the
physical constitution of man, as will
greatly heighten the appreciation of
those facts which bear upon his exis-
tence, and the objects and elements by
which he is surrounded. There are
other parts of the system which might
be considered with much profit. But
we have a long journey to perform, and
as, when we come to explore " Our
Library," which is an important part of
our house, and to make discoveries
among authors and books, we shall be
able to point out some good authorities
upon the subject, we shall now turn
from the further contemplation of the
inhabitants of our house, to the various
objects l:y which they are surrounded.
NATURAL HISTORY COLLECTIONS SAT-B
FROM INSECTS. A. F. Schlotthauber,
naturalist at Gottingen, offers for the
sum of 100 to communicate his new
method of freeing and protecting Natu-
ral History Collections from insects,
without opening the cases in which they
are preserved, and without the applica-
tion of scents, poisons, heat, or other
means injurious to the collections them-
selves.
EXTRAORDINARY BIRTH. On Sunday
morning, the 13th April, between the
lours of eight and ten, Mrs. E. Phin,
wife of Edward Phin, a guard in the
service of the London and North
Western Railway Company, residing at
144, Scofield-street, Bloomsbury, Bir-
mingham, was safely delivered of five
children three boys born alive and
doing well, and two girls born dead.
SONG.
BY J. DEFFETT FRANCIS.
(From the May number of the " Train.")
ANNIE, she hath dove-like eyes,
Dora, she hath golden hair,
Fanny's bland, with soft replies,
Flora's breath is fragrant air.
Mary hath a form divine,
Eve a voice both sweet and low,
Phoebe's lips like rosy wine,
Blanche a skin like virgin snow.
Amy, tiny hands and feet ;
Alice, healthy smiles a store ;
Rose, with balmy sighs replete ;
Patty, dimpled o'er and o'er;
Ada, graceful as a fawn ;
Kate, majestic, fair, and tall ;
Jessie, bland as summer dawn;
One I know combines them all.
Take each charm of form and face,
Fragrant breath, voice, hair and eyes ;
Add from each the mental grace,
One I know all these supplies.
Do not ask the fair one's name,
Paining thus her modest mind ;
In this room she blushing came,
She by all these charms defined.
ANOTHER INTERVIEW WITH THE REGISTRAR- GENERAL. 133
ANOTHER INTERVIEW WITH
THE REGISTRAR-GENERAL
IN the year 1853 the number of persons
who married was 329,040, and the
number of children born alive was
612,391 ; the excess of births over
deaths was 191,294 : so that the popu-
lation of this country is increasing at
therate of nearly two hundred thousand
per annum. During the same year
62,915 English men and women emi-
grated, of whom only 4,194 went to
our flourishing North American colo-
nies, where, in the opinion of the
Registrar-General, " the soil and cli-
mate are so adapted to develop all the
vigour of the British race."
Of the persons who married 9,131
men and 29,219 women were under
age; and the Registrar- General states
that the proportion of early marriages is
rapidly increasing. The circumstances
which govern this are curious. " The
straw-plait and lace manufacturers in
the south midland counties apparently
promote early marriages by affording
employment to children and to young
persons." It appears that more widow-
ers than widows get married again.
Possibly the latter, if left comfortably
off, are content to " let well alone."
Of the persons who married, 49,983
men and 72,204 women were unable to
sign their names. The proportion of
persons able to write is highest in Lon-
don and lowest in Wales. These
figures show a deplorable lack of edu-
cation.
Out of the number of children born,
no less than 39,760 (or six-and-a-half
per cent, upon the wholenumber) were
born out of wedlock. Much-abused
London, with all its temptations, is
more moral in this respect than the
rest of the community, only four per
cent, of the births there being illegiti-
mate ; while in the town of Preston in
Lancashire more than ten per cent, of
the births come within that category.
Even in the quiet little town of Stam-
ford, in Lincolnshire, the proportion is
nearly 420 legitimate to 40 illegitimate
nearly ten per cent.
The comparative mortality of the
sexes is a subject of curious calculation.
Up to the age of ten more boys die
than girls ; but after that period up to
3^, the mortality of the female is in
the ascendant. After the age of 45, the
mortality of men is considerably
greater than the mortality of women.
Mortality varies, according to the more
or less healthy state of the locality.
In Rothbury and Glendale in North-
umberland, and in Eastbourne in
Sussex, the annual mortality is at the
rate of 15 in 1,000 ; in Hendon, Dorking,
and other places it is 17 in 1,000; in
marshy parts of Cambridgeshire it is 25
in 1,000. In the Whitechapel district
of London it is 30 in 1,000.
The Registrar-General has some
pleasant and instructive gossip upon
the subject of family nomenclature in
England.
The most striking circumstance pre-
sented by the indexes, is the extraordi-
nary number and variety of surnames
of the English people. Derived from
almost every imaginable object from
the names of places, from trades and
employments, from personal peculiari-
ties, from the Christian name of the
father, from objects in the animal and
vegetable kingdoms, from things
animate and inanimate their varied
character is as remarkable as their
similarity is often striking. Some of the
terms which swell the list are so odd,
and even ridiculous, that it is difficult
to assign any satisfactoiy reason for
their assumption in the first instance as
family names, unless indeed, as has been
conjectured, they were nicknames or
sobriquets, which neither their first
bearers nor their posterity could avoid.
The Registrar-General estimates that
there are nearly forty thousand differ-
ent surnames in England. It is estimated
that among these there are 53,000
families bearing the name of Smith, and
51,000 bearing the name of Jones. The
Smiths and Jones's alone are supposed
to include about half a million of the
population. On an average it seems,
that one person in seventy-three is a
Smith, one in seventy-six a Jones, one
in 115 a Williams, one in 148 a Taylor,
one in 162 a Da vies, and one in 174 a
134
POEM.
Brown." Among the list of peculiar
names given we note the following :
Affection, Alabaster, Allbones, Awk-
ward, Baby, Bolster, Bowel, IJi-alns. I'.y
(the shortest English name). Camomile,
Corpse, Dagger, Eighteen, Fowls,
Fussey, Gin, Hogsflesh, Idle, Jelly, Kiss,
Lumber, Muddle, Xutbro.vn, Officer,
Pocket, Quince, Rabbit, Sanctuary,
Tombs, Unit, Vulgar, Waddle, Yellow,
and Zeal.
Appended to the population tables
are some useful calculations upon many
matters which bear upon, and influence
the condition of the nation. In the
first quarter of 1852 wheat was 40s. lOd.
per quarter, and in the corresponding
quarter of 1853 45s. 7d. Beef bad
risen three eighths of apeuny per pound,
and mutton an entire penny, and
potatoes from 70s. per ton had risen to
127s. 6d.
Finally, we have some 1'eports pur-
suant to the resolutions of the Statistical
Congress in Brussels, for collecting
systematic returns all over Europe, and
a uniform nomenclature of the causes of
death applicable to all countries. These
have been prepared with great care, and
will, we have no doubt, lead to the
most valuable results in statistical
science. A report of the proceedings of
.gress
the International Statistical Con
held at Paris last year is also given.
(Seepage 10.)
TO , ON HER RECOVERY.
[The following lines, never before published
or printed, were written by Mrs. Remans,
when she had just attained her sixteenth year,
and therefore not yet assumed the name by
which she is generally known in English litera-
ture. They were addressed to an ami:i!
esteemed lady .lately deceased, whose family and
that of the authoress were neighbours' and
friends, Mrs. Families, of Eriviatt, a beautiful
place in North Wales, to which allu
made in the congratulations here poetically
offered for her recovery from illness. One of
ilrs. Hemauii' surviving children has for
to us the lines in question, which are 1:
joined.] t'riiic.
"When watchiug by the sleepless bed,
Where sickness laid her faiutiug head,
Affection breathed the silent prayer
That Heaven, relenting Heaven, would
spare;
That prayer Devotion bore on high,
Unlock'd the portals of the sky ;
And, kneeling at the eternal shrine,
Implored relief for Caroline.
" Angel of Mercy ! hear the sigh ;
Look down upon the suppliant eye !
Oh ! come with ' healing on thy wing :'
The balm of renovation bri
To her, our joy, our hope, descend,
The Wife, the Daughter, and the
Friend !"
And Mercy heard ! the prayer pre-
vail'd !
Sickness ! thy dart no more assail'd !
Yes, Mercy heard, with smiles benign,
And joy revived for Caroline !
Ye who in anguish, day by day,
Have seen the torch of life r
(Like some exotic, fair and frail,
That dies before the stormy gale) ;
Have marked the sad expressive smile
That fain your sufferings would beguile ;
The languor of the drooping frame,
That steals upon the vital flame ;
Ye who have proved, for one as dear,
Each thrilling pulse of hope and fear ;
Ye best can judge what those must feel
Who love with all affection's zeal,
When health her quivering lamp re-
lumes,
And seems to promise brighter blooms j
Tints the pale cheek with living hue,
Fires the dim eye with i-adiance new !
Soon may we see her light divine
Beam from thine eyes, our Caroline?
The cloud that shaded with alloy
The heaven of calm domestic joy,
That cloud is gone! that heaven is bright
Again with pure and tempered light !
Long may it smile with ray serene
O'er sweet Eriviatt's woodlands green ;
O'er the dear Parcot's locks of snow
Long may its balmy sunshine glow !
Mild as the southern breezes play,
And genial as the skies of May
And she, its gentle day-star shine,
She whom we love our Caroline !
FELICIA BROWNE.
A WAG says there is no danger of
hard times among the shoemakers be-
cause every shoe is sol'd before it is
ready for the market.
THE ART OF THINKING.
135
THE ART OF THINKING.
FROM THE FRENCH OF DEGERANDO.
(Concluded from page 123.)
THINKING, then, is facilitated not
only by an immediate preparation, but
by one more extended and remote.
The first comprises silence and seclu-
sion : certain times and certain places
are particularly favourable to the deve-
lopment of thought. The most fa-
vourable place is that which is most in
harmony with our habits and disposi-
tions, which inspires calmness of mind,
-and which excites serious and uniform
feelings. The time most suitable is
that in which the mind, freed from the
influence of the external world, feels all
its strength, and is possessed of all its
powers ; and that where the mind,
casting aside external influences, falls
back on itself, and resumes its inward
communings. The influence of circum-
stances becomes modified in different
individuals. There are some whose
minds demand almost an entire isolation
from external objects, and whose
thoughts arise in greatest number and
rigour amidst the stillness and darkness
of night ; others, on tfae contrary, are
aided in thinking by the presence of
objects analogous to the subjects of
thought, in the same way that a feeble
and unsteady voice is aided by instru-
mental accompaniments. We should
not, however, rely too much upon these
extraneous aids, which we cannot
always command, but rather acquire
the habit of preserving our mental
liberty in the midst of the tumult of
the world and material occupations.
The effect of these multiplied pre-
cautions, in order to obtain the self-
possession of the soul, is, that we be-
come peculiarly susceptible to external
distractions. In estimating also too
highly the value of these precautions
in thus isolating ourselves so completely
in thus concentrating the faculties,
we are exposed to the danger of falling
into vague reveries, or being earned
away by enthusiasm which we cannot
moderate, since we are not aware of its
existence. Besides, this system of
precautions is of extremely little value
to those who have not undergone the
necessary mental discipline before al-
luded to ; nay more, these very precau-
tions themselves not unfrequently serve
to increase a state of mental agitation,
if the soul nourish in itself the germs
from whence it springs. The most
violent passions are sometimes nour-
ished in solitude ; and the world has
witnessed the spectacle of an army of
anchorites issuing from the desert, and
spreading disorder through an empire
(the Byzantine). It is in the very
sanctuary of the mind thnt the law of
silence should be observed there, that
all the elements should be disposed in a
regular harmony there, that freedom
should be complete and there, that
meditation should receive all the aid of
the gravest and sweetest images. If
the mind, by this union of precaution
and care, once becomes capable of this
noble mental action, the Art of Think-
ing will become an easy exercise, and
all its fruits will be attainable ; unex-
pected inspirations, more valuable than
any extrinsic counsel, will often spring
up. We must have confidence in our
own nature, and trust to the teachings
of our own experience.
One of the earliest truths that will
thus develop itself is, that, in order to
think to advantage, it is not desirable
to fatigue and torment the mind with
too much effort. Meditation is the
parent of all vigorous thought and
deep emotions; but both the one and
the other should spring up na-
turally in the mind ; we may indeed
facilitate their birth, btit not by agita-
tion and constraint ; while the energy of
these mental manifestations will be in
proportion to the spontaneousness of
their issue. The art of governing the
mind does not consist in oppression and
violence, but in a wise and calni im-
pulsion. All moral thinking is ail
intercourse of the mind with itself. It
questions itself, and should wait the
reply, and receive jt with confidence and
with entire good faith ; there should be
no suggestion of the reply, for we learn
only what ice have a sincere desire to
learn. All men have very nearly the
same primitive or fundamental notions,
136
THE ART OF THINKING.
particularly as regards moral subjects;
the chief difference is, that some know
how to cultivate and develop them,
while others neglect and disuse them.
That restless agitation of the mind
which arises from our very anxiety to
develop its powers, affects chiefly those
inexperienced in the art of thinking.
There is nothing more difficult of com-
prehension than a mental state of calm
activity, because there is nothing more
difficult than complete self-possession in
the midst of action ; we pass from sleep
to agitation, and fall again from agita-
tion into sleep; the impatience of
success makes us blind to the true
means of attaining it.
There is no successful thinking with-
out method, which is rendered doubly
needful in moral meditations, since the
mind cannot here rest on any extraneous
aids, and is therefore in constant dan-
ger of falling into vague incoherency.
This method, however, need not have
all the vigour and precision of science,
for this would entail upon it something
of the dryness of science ; it should be
natural and simple, in order to allow
entire liberty to the mental movements,
and to the springs of emotion in the
heart ; it consists at first in dissipating
the clouds in which ideas are usually
involved, in clearly distinguishing them,
in distributing and arranging them,
and in clearly discerning the end of
thinking itself. If this be perfectly ap-
prehended, precise views will spring up
in abundance ; as in Geometry, when
the position of the problem is once
established, the means of solution
readily and naturally present them-
selves. Method will lead to the dis-
covery of those parent thoughts, which
contain the germs of numberless others,
and at the same time enable us to seize
their connecting links; it will fix the
rank and relation of each separate con-
sideration reduce to unity the scat-
tered notions which float on the surface
of the mind assign to them a deter-
minate place mak. them reflect light
on each other, and develop from them
their practical applications. The mind
has a tendency to fall into vague and
idle reverie where the natural labour of
thought is replaced by a soft mental
voluptuousness, in which we cannot
properly be said to think at all ; we
become, on the contrary, oblivious and
dreaming, or rapt in a state of vain or
false ecstacy. This is a dangerous state,
and clearly arises from .such a want of
method as allows this state of confusion
and anarchy.
The advantages of thinking do not
follow immediately, nor after a first
trial; the success obtained will vary
according as we mix up with these
secret operations of nature those vary-
ing states of the mind which often arise
quite independently of the will. Per-
severance is essential to success : both
clearness and freedom will be gained by
it, for it is especially necessary that on
many points we should dwell long and
patiently, in order that we may com-
pletely develop all that the subject may
involve. Barrenness of intellect is gene-
rally a consequence of precipitation. In
moral meditations, the tranquillity
which attends steady persevei-au.ce is
necessary, in order that from the con-
ceptions of the reason may flow the
emotions which should fill the heart.
The spring of those emotions demands
a certain amount of quiet contem-
plation; just as in the admiration ex-
cited by the highest works of art, time
is required to develop all their beauty.
The soul must have leisure to perceive
the emanations of the true and the
good ; to feel them, appropriate them,
and transform them, as it were, into
its own proper substance. There is
even danger in considering too many
objects ; each should be thoroughly
digested, and, in developing itself, dis-
play all the fertility that belongs to it.
Finally, in order that meditation should
produce its greatest effect, it should be
appropriately recapitulated, and pre-
sented in simple formulae, that it may
without difficulty be fixed in the
memory, and be made easily applicable
to the wants and duties of daily life.
Method in these exercises will render
this last operation easy, particularly if
we once acquire the habit of carrying
into practice the truths which flow from
meditation. Conteir nlation and action
THE ART OF THINKING.
137
too often assume a sort of rivalship to
each other, and dispute possession of man.
The former has its most zealous advo-
cates with mystical writers ; the other
amongst men of the world. But the
truth is, that each of these powers has
need of the other ; they are mutually
strengthened, and ordinated by their
alliance ; they mutually serve for pre-
paration, check, and proof of each
other. The contemplation of moral
truth, when it remains idle and barren,
both condemns and belies itself. We
should not present to virtue voluptuous
Sybarites, but courageous Athletics.
Conceived in its proper spirit, thinking
urges us to practical application, and
longs for good actions. It inspires the
necessary strength, and delights in the
realisation of truths that have been
conceived with so much happy feeling.
Reciprocally, the practical application
of moral truth becomes, what observa-
tion and experiment are in the physical
sciences j it controls, determines, and
circumscribes what, in conception, of-
ten appears vague and incomplete. It
controls the imagination, and forces it
to regulated movements ; it foresees and
corrects the wanderings and hallucina-
tions of enthusiasm, generally pure and
innocent in its origin. It alone can
teach us, that those meditations, in-
dulged in with so much delight, have
brought forth moral truth, and feelings
that have penetrated the heart, and
there taken sure and deep root. No-
thing so effectively cures the afflictions
of the heart, and dissipates that grave
and depressing melancholy to which,
perhaps, all are more or less subject,
than the exercise of the great law of
duty. We not uufrequently find our-
selves incapable of thinking or feeling ;
at such times we should act, and do good ;
we find that the depressed faculties
soon regain their natural vigour. Be-
sides, there are always involved in our
conceptions of duty, conditions only
fully understood by those who have
essayed to put them into practice. It
is in the field of action that we estimate
difficulties, discover obstables, and learn
the value and strength of particular
motives. It is there that we thoroughly
learn to know ourselves, for there we
are put to the proof. It is there, also,
that we learn to preserve ourselves
against the illusions of vanity illusions
which habitual contemplation too often
tends to foster and encourage. After
having done good, we return to a study
of its laws with renewed ardour and
increased pleasure ; meditation is in-
vested with a greater serenity of feeling
by the approbation of conscience ; and
thus it happens that Vice perseveres in
its course, because it is blind, and Virtue
perseveres in hers, because she is en-
lightened. The most persevering sinner
often curses and condemns his own
weakness, yet seems as if constrained
by some mechanical and foreign force ;
while the virtuous man increases in his
love of it, by perseveringly practising
it ; the chains of the former go on in-
creasing in weight and in strength,
while the latter becomes free as the
mountain air.
If we reflect on the nature of the
obstacles which usually deter so many
men from moral meditations, it be-
comes manifest that such obstacles do
not arise so much out of the nature of
the thing, like scientific and philoso-
phical speculations, as from negligence
and levity. Moral truths, unlike the
lofty speculations of science, which
often exceed the capacity of ordinary
minds, are at hand are familiar and
simple ; we do not make them, but sim-
ply recognise them, not by any extraor-
dinary efforts, but simply by self-scru-
tiny and good faith ; so that no man,
whatever may be his condition or rank
in life, is excluded from such exercises
nor consequently from the aids they
give to our moral develop i.ent. The
maxims of the earliest sages, which
have been by ancient tradition handed
down to us from the very cradle of
civilisation, evince the most profound
meditation on the destination of human
nature ; and it is no uncommon thing
to find in the most' obscure ranks of
society individuals with very little ac-
quired knowledge, who, nevertheless,
possess an almost marvellous clearness
of vision ; and, thanks to this interior
education, which is the result of patient
133
LONDON AND ITS FOOD.
thought, speak the language of virtue
better than men of the world, who are
so often vain of their know I >
men, simple and honest, may be iiu-a-
pableof ea2>rgss/Ji<7 their thoughts; tlu-ir
meditations have not been conducted
according to any prescribed rul<
forms; but they have acquired the
habit of diving deep into the recesses of
their own minds with, fixed honesty of
purpose. The tumult of the world and
the agitations of vanity have not inter-
fered with this self-study. They learn
much in a short time under the guid-
ance of this greater teacher of man ;
they learn, at least, enough to enable
them to recognise the good, and to
love it.
LONDON AND ITS FOOD.*
THE problem of how two millions and-
a-half of people are fed daily, is certainly
one of startling interest. Have our
readers ever thought with wonder and
perplexity of the means by which this
mighty city is supplied with food ?
Have they ever calculated, or tried to
do so, the amount consumed in one
day ? If they have amused themselves
by investigating this subject, they will
turn with great pleasure to Mr. D odd's
interesting statements and statistics.
He has given us a volume full of care-
fully-collected facts, and of very read-
able matter ; and a glance at the table
of contents will show its variety and
scope. In the first chapter we have the
subject briefly treated on broad princi-
ples, as behoves a political economist.
Then follows the Food of London in
Past Ages, the influence of railway on
the foor" ^pply corn and bread, cattle
and cattle-markets, dairy produce, Bil-
lingsgate, Covent-garden, colonial pro-
duce, and London beverages, and divers
other topics connected with creature-
comforts, all admirably handled. In-
stead of taking up the book for the
purposes of criticism, we shall just
glean from it a number of facts which
may amuse, surprise, or instruct our
readers, and tempt them to turn to the
* The Food of London. By George Dodd.
Longman.
volume itself for further information.
Let us be^in with bread. There i.s no
fautory in London, no great
vfinn with whose name we are
familiar, but of bakers'-shops we can
i!,500 at the present time. The
majority of the bread consumed in
London is made as follows :
" Boiled. potatoes are mashed with a
little water, flour, and yeast, and the
mass is left covered up for some time to
ferment. Then it is brought to a liquid
condition with water and strained
through a sieve. Anon they pour it
on a mass of flour, and mix it with the
hands, and the ' sponge ' thus produced
is allowed to remain several hours to
' rise.' At a certain stage in the pro-
cess the ' sponge ' is softened by water,
in which salt and alum have been dis-
solved, and mixed into a paste, more
flour is added and well mixed up with
the paste into dough. Then follows the
kneading by a man 'straddling and
wriggling on the end of a lever or
pole ; ' the dough is separated into
portions large enough for loaves, which
in due time are placed in the oven.
Much of the difference between com-
mon and fancy bread is due to an alte-
ration in the mode of placing the loaves
in the oven."
Baking is a very unhealthy trade;
the journeymen work too long, and
their health is injured by high tempe-
rature. Mr. Dodd says :
" If the bread eaters will have ' hot
rolls' for breakfast, and 'new bread*
for tea, the bakers must work at night
to prepare the rolls and loaves ; and it
thus becomes a contest between the
consumer's wishes on the one hand, and
the baker's independence on the other ;
the latter gives way, and hence the
poor baker worka while others sleep."
He has his revenge, however, if that
is any satisfaction to him ; for few peo-
ple can eat "hot rolls" with impunity !
Londoners do not eat biscuits to any
large extent. In peaceful times, the
quantity of sea biscuits made annually
has been estimated at 60,000 tons, or
124,000,000 pounds. During war time,
the trade in biscuits is " stupendous."
LONDON AND ITS POOD.
139
The use of alum, and the deficiency in
weight, are two crimes to be laid at the
door of most London bakers. The
former will probably be put a stop to
ere long 1 , and housekeepers might avoid
the latter fraud by insisting on. seeing
all their bread weighed.
With regard to the supply of meat
for London, it is supposed that 1,000,000
bullocks and 4,000,000 sheep, all living
at the same time, are destined for the
dinner-tables of the metropolis.
" There are twice as many oxen and
sheep always existing, destined for
London consumption, as there are
human beings in London five millions
for two millions and a half."
Mr. Dodd gives a copious history of
the meat markets ; but it will be
pleasanter to pass them over, and come
to the dairy produce. The number of
cows reared for supplying London with
milk is 24,000; each is supposed to
yield nine quarts on the average daily;
the quantity of milk consumed is about
eighty million quarts annually, for
which the consumers pay not less than
1,600,000. It should be mentioned
that these statistics are not very sound,
since there is no certain data for the
calculation. The railways are daily
bringing larger supplies of milk to
London ; and it is estimated that in
1853 more than 3,000,000 quarts were
sent to us in this way.
" When the Lancet commissioners ex-
amined London milk, they purchased
small quantities from twenty-six dairy-
men ; and, rather to their surprise,
though of course to their satisfaction,
they found twelve of them to be genu-
ine ; two had some of the cream re-
moved ; the rest were adulterated with
water, to an extent varying from ten to
fifty per cent. No adulterant was
detected except water. All these speci-
mens were purchased at the west-end of
the town."
It is supposed that for the butter
supply to the London market, upwards
of 160,000 cows are needed. From
three to four million Ibs. are sold
annually at Newgate, " but the greater
portion of the supply does not reach any
| of the public markets." Out of forty-
eight samples examined by the commis-
I sioners, it was found that nearly one-
: fifth of the whole weight consisted of
salt and water; potato-flour has also
I been met with.
Cheese is more in request than butter
among our labouring population ; and
this, Mr. Dodd tells us, is not to be ac-
counted for by the mere difference of
price. Cheese is very nutritious, and
working-men have generally good di-
gestions, and find it a valuable article
of food.
It is supposed that of eggs our con-
sumption in the United Kingdom is
1,500,000,000 annually, of which
900,000,000 are produced in Great
Britain. Reckoning them, only at one
halfpenny each, the annual cost amounts
to 3,000,000. From eggs we naturally
pass to poultry ; and as Mr. Dodd
dismisses fowls somewhat summarily,
we will do so likewise, and extract,
instead, a few noticeable facts about the
goose. Enclosure Acts have interfered,
it seems, with their liberty. " Some of
the commons of Wiltshire, now en-
closed, were formerly graziug-grounds
for thousands of geese belonging to
different owners; each owner had his
own mark impressed by a punch on the
web between the toes of the birds ; and
thus, though many flocks intermingled,
each goose was easily identified ; they
were attended by goose herds, whose
duty it was to watch over their safety."
At Michaelmas-time, there is always
" an amount of slaughter," especially in
the fens of Lincolnshire.
" The fatteners pass unremitting
attention to the wants of the geese
classing them according to their condi-
tion ; keeping them always clean ; feed-
ing them three times a-day, alternating
dry with soft food ; and supplying
them with good water and an exercise
ground."
From poultry Mr. Dodd passes on to
fish, and tells us that, although the
denizens of the deep grow ready to our
hands, " there may be such a thing as
fish-culture as well as corn-culture."
Singularly enough the fecundated eggs
or roe of the fish may be packed in sand
140
DICKENS AND THACKERAY.
in boxes and conveyed from place to
place, or kept in rooms ; so that rivers
may be stocked with fish not before
contained therein. By this means many
rivers in France are now being artifi-
cially stocked with trout.
Billingsgate, as our readers know, is
now, and always was. the principal fish
market in London. For eight hundred
years it has held its ground against all
rivals, and in the early morning, when
the " mighty heart " of the metropolis
is lying still, one of the busiest and most
exciting scenes in the world is enacted
there :
"Fishing vessels and railway vans
arrive as near the spot as possible by
five o'clock, to catch the prime of the
market. The salesmen place them-
selves at their stalls ; the porters bring
in the fish, brushing ruthlessly past
any idle lookers-on ; and the fishmon-
gers arrive. All the best fish are dis-
played and sold first. The bargains
are soon made, for both salesmen and !
shopkeepers contrive to ascertain the j
state of the market, and the fishmongers
carry away their purchases in the carts
which, for want of sufficient accommo-
dation, blockade Fish-street-hill, as far
up as Gracechurch-street."
Mr. Dodd gives xis a curious extract
from a pamphlet published in 1632
about the " fair sex " engaged in the
Billingsgate trade:
" These crying, wandering and travel- j
ling creatures carry their shops on their
heads, and their storehouse is ordinarily
Billingsgate or the bridge-foot, and their
habitation Turnagain-lane. They set
up every morning their trade afresh.
They are easily set up and furnished,
get something, and spend it jovially and
merrily. Five shillings, a basket, and I
a good cry, is a large stock for one of !
them. They are merriest when all !
their ware is gone. In the morning
they delight to have their shop full, at
even they desire to have it empty.
Their shops are but little, some two
yards' compass."
Such a book is full of facts impor-
tant to the statesman and the philan-
thropist, and highly interesting to the
merely statistical inquirer.
TEA IN RUSSIA.
Ti:\, which is largely consumed in Rus-
sia, is a carefully protected article. The
Tea trade between Russia and China is
carried on exclusively overland vid
Kiahta, and is in the hands of a very
limited number of merchants. The
frontier town of Kiahta is situate in
the midst of a vast desert at the ex-
tremity of two immense empires, and
the tea has to traverse more than 7,000
English miles before it reaches Moscow,
which may be considered the centre of
its distribution. Importation by sea is
prohibited in order that the overland
trade may be supported, and whilst
Tea of a fair quality sells in London for
80 or 90 kopecks the pound, Tea of the
same quality costs in Russia 2 or 2J
roubles, notwithstanding the fact that
the duties levied in England and Rus-
sia are, or at least were till lutely,
pretty neai-ly the same. This enor-
mous difference of price of course leads
to smuggling on a most extensive scale,
and in spite of the vigilance of the police
little else than smuggled Canton Tea is
drunk in Poland, and the Western pro-
vinces of Russia. It used to be thought
that the Caravan Tea was of a different
and very superior quality to the Canton,
and that to this circumstance its higher
price was referable. It appears, how-
ever, that the two sorts come from the
same plants and the same plantations,
and the differences in quality are refer-
able to the periods at which the leaves
are gathered.
DICKENS AND THACKERAY.
THERE is a vexed question in literature
about the relative excellence of Dickens
and Thackeray ; and the principle upon
which it turns is not very remote from
this comparison between Robson and
his fellows. Thackeray is a great anat-
omist, and Dickens is a great painter ;
and it merely depends upon a man's
preference for a dirty but necessary de-
partment of science to a delightful art,
whether he prefers the former or the
latter novelist. Thackeray dissects the
human heart, and (to quote Mr. Sala's
words) proves himself master of all the
petty meanness, the crawling spites,
CHILDREN, AND HOW TO MANAGE THEM.
141
the grovelling desires, the pettish ca-
prices, all the spasms of malice, of envy,
and of hatred, &c. Dickens, on the
other hand, idealises humanity, and
sheds around our faulty nature the
dazzling halo of his genius. The one is
Mr. Partridge delivering a clinical lec-
ture in his anatomical school, cutting
and hacking with marvellous skill, in
garments stained- and odorous with the
work; the other is Raffaello Sanzio,
painting with a pen instead of with a
pencil. The one addresses the brain,
and the other the heart ; but there is
more Oh, how far more ! intellect in
the heart than in the brains. What is
the result in the case of these two no-
velists ? Why, the one has many com-
peers, and seme of them (Swift, Sterne,
and Fielding) are superior to him ; but
the other stands alone in literature.
Critic.
CHILDREN, AND HOW TO
MANAGE THEM.*
A VERT nice little book under this title
has just reached us. It should be in
the hands of every parent and teacher ;
for though it enunciates no new doc-
trine, it brings together a complete
string of pearls of thought, embodying
the ideas of the best moralists upon this
subject.
The following extracts will serve to
show the spirit and ability of this ex-
cellent little work :
"TRUTH. Who does not desire to
have that great blessing, a truthful
child ? But, oh ! how few children are
perfectly upright. Some writers, in-
deed, have goce so far as to say that all
children are naturally liars. God forbid !
Our own belief is that circumstances
almost force children to become un-
truthful. Let us look at the delicate
organisation of a young child its tender
frame its susceptible mind its utter
powerlessness against tyranny its
weakness and its ignorance. Can we
expect from children a nerve and courage
we do not ourselves possess ? Does the
fear of man, with us, never bring a
snare, or lead us into a breach of truth ?
* Darton and Co., 5$. Holborn Hill.
Is it not cowardice? contemptible
cowardice ? And if we matured beings
feel a fear that leads us into error, how
gentle should we be to the young who
suffer from it.
"A mother may do much to make
her child truthful. Her example will
do much. If she is habitually open in
her conduct, if her child never hears
from her lips 'Don't tell papa,' if he
never sees a lie acted, this will do much
to teach him to value truth.
"But more is needed. A mother
must not content herself with saying
' I insist on your speaking the truth, it
is wicked to tell a lie ; ' but she must
show that no piece of childish wilful-
' ness no amount of mischief that might
: accidentally be perpetrated, is to be the
| cause of such severe punishment as a
falsehood, however trifling. Indeed, it
is unwise to punish any accident. Even
if your best dress be spoiled by the care-
less upsetting of an inkstand, if your
child's intention was to help you, look
at the intention and not at the conse-
quences, however inconvenient. Your
child's truth is of more moment to you
than all the dresses in Regent-street.
Do not, therefore, terrify the poor little
i thing, who is already probably suffi-
j ciently grieved, by flying into a passion,
or punishing it. Show your sorrow
speak of your regret; your child will
sympathise with you, and be more care-
ful ; but never terrify it into telling a
lie, or make no distinction in your
punishment of a deliberate falsehood,
and a childish, however wilful, fault.
" Encourage, in every possible way, a
love of truth. Foster the struggling
virtue as earnestly as a good gardener
would the tenderest hot-house plant.
Let no cold blast of harshness check its
growth let no angry tone blast it. Let
assurance of a perfect forgiveness of any
error short of falsehood help the feeble
resolution to confess the fault ; and if
you do promise forgiveness, keep your
own word, in the 'spirit as well as the
letter. Let pardon of a fault imply for-
getfuluess of it.
"Never doubt a child's word until
you have proof that its word is not
sacred. By giving great importance to
CHILDREN, AND HOW TO MANAGE THEM.
the inviolable nature of a promise, you
will succeed in impressing the child's
mind with the same feeling. ' Are you
sure, my dear, quite sure you did not
break the glass ? Remember, if you
have done it, and tell me, I will not be
angry ; but if you assure me you have
not, I shall believe you until I find you
do not speak the truth. Then mamma
would be sorry, for she could not be-
lieve her little boy any more. Think
again, are you quite sure ? ' Some such
speech, with action to correspond, will
tend to keep your children in the right
path.
" One word more. Do not indulge in
hast}-, thoughtless, accusation of either
children or servants, or even in too de-
termined suspicion of them. Never
condemn without open examination.
Guilt is sure to develop itself some day ;
never, therefore, risk injuring an inno-
cent person by punishing him for an
assumed fault, however strong the pro-
babilities may be of his having com-
mitted it. Remember, it has been
frequently proved that perfectly inno-
cent persons have even been hung on
circumstantial evidence.
" Moreover, children are keen critics.
Let them once be sensible that you have
committed an act of injustice, and much
of your influence over them is destroyed.
Children are rarely treated justly, they
are either petted too much, or they meet
with undue harshness. But they have
inalienable rights, which ought to be as
much respected as those of grown-up
persons, more so, indeed, since they
cannot defend them; and, therefore,
parents ought to study, above all things,
to be perfectly just to them, not one
day allowing that which they prohibit
on another, or acting so as to lose their
children's respect, but to let all their
conduct to them be even, fearless, and
truthful, practising themselves the up-
rightness they try to inculcate."
"SERVANTS AND THEIR INFU
As long as servants continue the un-
educated beings they are, they are most
unfit guardians for children ; and no
true mother will, if she can possibly
avoid it, confide her children, even for
a few hours daily, wholly to the care
of the nurse. How much less, then,
suffer a young and ignorant woman to
become the directress and mistress in
the nursery, that too many nursery-
maids are. Many are unfit for the
charge ; they alternately indulge and
punish the children, coax and terrify
them, teach them to tell falsehoods to
parents, to conceal some neglect on
their part ; and act so that the children's
minds never fairly recover from the
hateful effects of their lessons. Even
more; some are wicked enough to
frighten those tender minds with horri-
ble stories when, perhaps, in a dark
room, and at night, until, in many in-
stances, permanent derangement, or,
worse still, a life of mental feebleness,
has ensued. Even death itself has re-
sulted from the terror caused by these
wicked inventions. Let no mother
suffer a servant to usurp either her
place or her authority with a child.
Even when no harm is meant, the ig-
norance of a young, inexperienced girl
will lead her into error; and a mother
should be constantly at hand to protect,
to teach, and to train her own child;
to lead the young thoughts to pure and
holy subjects, to check the first indica-
tions of error, and to guard its body and
mind from injury. As, however, there
are positions in which a mother is com-
pelled to confide her child to the care
of a servant, her choice cannot be too
carefully made. Whatever the personal
sacrifice, in order to afford good wages
to a good and true nurse, the sacrifice
ought to be made. She should !>
fectly healthy, neat, and sober ; plea-
sant in face, cheerful in manner, active,
and, above all, truthful. Give her to
understand, on first entering your
service, that you can pardon almost
anything but a wilful lie ; and that to
utter one, or teach your children to
utter one, will insure her instant dis-
missal. On such points be strict ; but
to accidents, and the failings inevitable
to human nature, be lenient. Let
the poor girl have a -little leisure while
you take her place in the nursery, if
only for half an-hour, after the chil-
dren are in bed ; let her have an occa-
sional holiday, and proper opportunities
THE LAND, AND HOW TO MAKE THE MOST OE IT.
of going to church. Take a kindly in-
terest in her welfare, and do not be too
exacting to poor human nature. Above
all, if you are fortunate enough to have
a servant who will speak the truth her-
self, and teach your child to speak it,
show that you value and appreciate her
conduct.
" Never allow children to be rude or
domineering to servants, or to receive
any benefit from them without ac-
knowledgment. Neither should they
be suffered to give unnecessary trouble
in dressing or walking. On the other
hand, the familiar way in which servants
are sometimes allowed to speak to chil-
dren, is injurious to both parties. Too
much familiarity is far from desirable.
To address the children of their mis-
tress by the Christian name only, is an
impertinence which ought, at once, to
be checked. Teach your children to
honour the conscientious servant, in
her place ; but, on the other hand,
maintain their self-respect and dignity,
of which even young children have
sometimes more than their elders
imagine.
" ' What will you make your son ?' I
once asked a very clever woman and a
most admirable mother. ' I will try
to make him a man and a gentleman,
and then he may make himself what he
pleases.'
" She was right. It is of more con-
sequence that a child should be brought
up to do his duty in the station of life
into which it shall please God to call
him, than that that station shall be
some particular one of his own
choosing.
" I have given a few brief hints as to
what the training of children ought to
be. All I would say in conclusion is,
do not expect too much from your
children they are, like yourselves,
human and fallible.
Be to their faults a little blind,
And to their virtues very kind,
You'll clasp a padlock on their mind.
"Lovingly and trustingly sow the seeds
of virtue in their minds; and though
you may not, at once, see the fruit of
your labours, remember the promise,
' Be not weary in well-doing ; for in due
season ye shall reap, if ye faint not.' "
The authoress has evidently be-
stowed much thought upon the subject;
and writes with all the inspiration of
the maternal heart. We can most con-
scientiously recommend this pearl of
great value, but of small price, to all
who, having children, are desirous of
knowing how to manage them.
THE LAND, AND HOW TO MAKE
THE MOST OF IT.
AT a recent meeting of the Council of
the Royal Agricultural Society of Eng-
land, Mr. Chadwick made the following
important communication. It is inter-
esting to the cottage gardener and to the
farmer ; and, indeed, important to every
one of us.
Mr. Chadwick said May I ask the
favour to be permitted to submit some
suggestions to persons who have adopted
the principles of liquified manure culti-
vation, now, I am glad to state, so far
extending as to preclude individual com'
munications, even to those with whom
I am personally acquainted, and who
have acted upon my recommendations.
The suggestions relate to the frequency
of the applications of the manures. In
recent times, the "lasting" manures
have enjoyed extensive popularity. A
dressing which served two years, and
much better if it serves three, is deemed
sound agricultural economy. Thus ma-
nuring with solid bones was once pre-
ferred ; but this practice has been broken
in upon by breaking the bones, and still
more by pulverising them ; and by the
experience of immediate and more heavy
as against the lighter, though more last-
ing, production.
With the farm bailiffs of the older
habits, who are accustomed to deem only
that as manure which is to be moved by
the spade or the fork, it is a great up-
turning of the ideas and of practice, to
treat, as I have presumed to do, that
only as economical and proper manure,
which is only to be moved by the spoon
or the scoop . But eminent agricultural-
ists have agreed with me, and have now
moved many of their farm bailiffs, who
had been educated to give one dressing
144
THE LAND, AND HOW TO MAKE THE MOST OF IT.
for two years, or one dressing for a sea-
sou, to give four eight and even ten
dressings of liquified and diluted ma-
nures.
The grumblings, and this " everlast-
ing work of dressing," " which, would be
sure never to answer," have been gene-
rally silenced by successive augmenta-
tions of crops. But even with yields 45
bushels of wheat, where 22 and at the
utmost 30 had been got before ; with
even ten dressings instead of one ; with
double, treble, and even with quadruple
crops; I have still to present myself
with an aspect of dissatisfaction, and
make remonstrances against remaining
sins of waste, and talk even of this prac-
tice as backward. I have visited the
farms of forward and successful agricul-
tural improvers during the last year and
the year before, who have put their
farms under good and tolerably com-
plete distributory apparatus, who were
still using guano or other artificial ma-
nures, whilst they had near the cattle-
sheds heaps of decomposing dung which
ought not to have been there, and whose
liquid manure tanks were stinking with
the escape of the products of decompo-
sition denoting the extent of waste
which is preventable by putting the ma-
nure in its right place.
One eminently successful improver is
a guauo merchant, and is to be excused
for displaying to the farmers a liquified
application on his farm, the powerful
effect of his commodity. Another farm
manager has also excusable preposses-
sions in favour of special manures, which
he has been moved to try. But the
" opinion evidence," and the particular
examples to which I advert, and the ad-
dition of any imported stimuli by the
managers, are open to objection, whilst
the farm-yard itself presents in the un-
used dung, and in the products of de-
composition evolved from the stagnant
contents of the tank, the demonstration
of the presence of unused or misused
manure.
The empirical demonstrations of the
absorbent and retentive power of soils
which I obtained from trial works on
the Manchester canal in 1846-47, such
as the marks of a leaky hose visible on
the grass in the second year after a
single dressing, corroborated and ex-
tended by the scientific researches of
Professor Way and others, have been
subsequently corroborated practically
on a number of the liquified manure
farms. Sometimes the corroboration
has been accidental. Thus on one farm
very capacious tanks were filled by the
solid deposit, and they were seen to be
overflowing and the unused liquid
manure running down a lane. The
farm manager was for the removal of
the solid deposit by hand labour and
cartage, but the owner suggested that
the tanks might be more conveniently
arid cheaply emptied by pumping the
contents on some adjacent fallows, to
which " it could do no harm," and, al-
though it was in the winter, if the
rains were not so very heavy as to
wash it all away, it might do some good;
and this course was taken, and the suc-
ceeding rains were very heavy, but to
the surprise of all the summer crops
everywhere displayed " to a splash" the
effects of the application of the manure
in the preceding winter, affording on a
large scale a demonstration that liqui-
fied manures are not held in mechanical
suspension, as the Baron Liebig and
other patentees of solid manures have
assumed and alleged, but are at once
received in chemical combination. A
familiar proof of the combination is
the immediate suppression of offensive
smells even from decomposing manures
which is so important for sanitary ob-
jects, as well as for agricultural econo-
my, in the prevention of the further
waste of manure.
Mr. Walker, of Newbold Grange, near
Rugby, who receives nearly the whole
of the sewerage of that town upon his
own estate, has given important demon-
strations of the principles for which
I have contended. Every day except
Monday throughout the year and ex-
cept days of very severe frost the
sewerage manure is applied to some
part or other of the land by steam
power, and hose and jet as distributory
apparatus. By the total abolition of
cesspools, and of brick house drains or
brick sewers of deposit ; and the sub-
THE LAND, AND HOW TO MAKE THE MOST OF IT.
145
stitution of drain pipes and pipe sewers
properly adjusted to the flow and
which are therefore self-cleansing all
the refuse of the town is discharged at
a rate of upwards of two miles an hour,
and before it can enter any advanced
stage of decomposition. The sewerage
from 900 houses has some odour, though
slight ; but has not the odour of de-
composition, and does not smell half so
bad as the old cesspool matter of a sin-
gle cottage, as any one who goes to the
spot may convince himself. All the
refuse matter of the town discharged
into the house drains by 9 o'clock will,
during nearly 300 days in the year, be
upon the land, and not merely upon
the surface, but in chemical combination
with the soil of that portion of the farm
to which it may be applied freed from
all odour, " disinfected," and preserved
from all waste usually before 10 o'clock,
or within little more than an hour.
Usually not many days afterwards,
upon the grass land the portions last
irrigated may be discerned by the sheep
and cattle, which have selected it and
are feeding upon it. He informs me
that when an accident has occurred to
the engine, and the works have been
stopped, in about three or four days
bubbles of gas are evolved, and decom-
position commences, that is to say,
waste commences. Now it is this
waste which it is of importance to avoid
by the application of the manure as
frequently as practicable, before the
decomposition can commence. Since
the manure tanks must be emptied, no
great difference will occur in the total
amount and expense of labour under
proper arrangements, whether they are
emptied soon or late.
Mr. Walker has applied the sewerage
of 900 houses to about 500 acres. But
he finds that pumping every day, except
Sunday, he only gets about three dres-
sings in the year all over the farm. He
is, nevertheless, well satisfied with the
result, as he obviously may be, in more
than double crops in his cereals as well
as his grass. But if he were to renew
the work he would, as I apprehend,
give a more concentrated application, |
10 dressings or upwards on a limited |
area. And the example affords an
important demonstration that the com-
plete sewerage of 900 or 1,000 houses,
including the external surface washings
of the streets and roofs of houses, may
be absorbed, disinfected, and rendered
productive on about 200 acres of ordi-
nary land.
The other instances of the application
of sewer water to agricultural produc-
tion are generally, as at Edinburgh,
Milan, the Clipstone Meadows, the Duke
of Bedford's water meadows at Tavi-
stock, are irrigations chiefly with the
surface washings of the streets and the
overflows of decomposed manure from
cesspools, drains, and sewers of deposit,
which is the strongest in periods of
storm ; but in the case of the sewerage
of Rugby, from a general water-closet
system and self cleansing pipe drains
and sewers, the manure comes unde-
composed unwasted, chiefly from the
interior of houses, and is the weakest
in the periods of extraordinary storms.
The manageableness of the sewerage
without large reservoirs, or offensive
marsh surfaces, like the plain water
meadows ; the manageableness on
limited areas are matter of great im-
portance for towns.
The Rugby experience demonstrates,
that the sewerage of the metropolis
may be utilised inoffensively, far less
offensively than the manurings of mar-
ket gardens, on an area of 50,000 or
60,000 acres, or 10 miles square, about
the extent of the Plumstead marshes,
or say a belt of land about a mile and a
quarter wide, commencing, at the inner
circle, about five miles from the centre
of the metropolis. On such practical
examples, what I wish to urge in respect
to farm- yard manures is that the liquid
manure pump should be kept going for
the immediate deposit of the manure
on some part of the farm or another ;
it will be better preserved on fallows
than in the tank. In the tank, after
decomposition commences, it not only
wastes; but becomes a source of danger
to the cattle in the shed ; inasmuch as
from the manner in which the tanks
have been commonly constructed, they
are too frequently retorts for the gene-
146
THE LAND, AND HOW r m M \KE THE MOST OF II
ration of noxious gases, and -the drain
from the shed serves as the neck of the
retort, to convey the gases into the
shed, where they are sure to operate to
a greater or less extent injuriously.
In Flanders and Holland, where the
sheds are kept remarkably clean, the
escape of the concentrated gases from
the long kept liquid manure of their
tanks have in certain conditions of the
atmosphere been productive of great
mortality amongst the cattle. The long
kept liquified manures convert the tank
into as dangerous a common cesspool
or fosse as such as those which pollute
the air, and the interior of the houses,
of Paris. In the new cultivation, ten
dressings with liquified farm-yard ma-
nures has been deemed a maximum
application. Yet to such an application
a dressing of guano has been super-
added, as I complain, whilst liquified
farm-yard manure was in the tanks and
might be made further available.
I rely upon the evidence of market
gardeners as to an experience of many
years for the fertilising power of farm-
yard manures upon the same crops
year after year ; and the market gar-
deners to whom I have shown the re-
sults obtained on the new liquified
manure farms, exceeding, as they have
already done, all other agricultural pro-
duction, deem that production as nowise
extraordinary, nor will it be found to
be so in relation to the green crops
grown by market gardeners ; and I rely
upon the evidence of horticulturalists
of practical experience and much supe-
rior production in quality as well as
quantity, in asserting the expediency of
far more frequent applications of liqui-
fied manure than has yet been dreamed
of by most of the managers of liquified
manure farms.
Horticultural experience justifies me
in saying that not ten, but more than
twenty dressings in the course of the
season, properly applied, will be at-
tended with remunerative results. The
application of liquified manure to the
cereals may be intermitted ormoderated
during the period of growth, to avoid
carrying the vegetation too far into
stalk and leaf. But horticultural
experience shows that when the leaves
are withered and the plant is out of
bloom and the corn is set, it should
then be well fed to make the corn
plump and heavy. If the soils are light
and the weather dry, the food may be
conveyed in the liquid twice a-week. It
may be conveyed to the roots of the
standing crop by a hose with lateral
apertures. What I wish, then, to impress
is that it is more economical to lave the
manure on the land than in the tank ;
that all delay of the application until
decomposition lias commenced is wasteful
and dangerous ; that until the whole of
the farm-yard manure is thus used up,
any artificial manures are superfluous,
and that they do not yet Tcnow how far
it will go. The information I have
received warrants me in saying that
the best of the liquified manure farms
may by this course far exceed their
present crops.
In answer to the inquiries of Mr.
Slaney and other members, as to the
expenses of the process, Mr. Chadwick
stated that Mr. Walker had informed
him that he estimated the establish-
ment charges and working expenses of
the new works, steam-engines, pipes,
and labour of distribution, at 1 per
acre per annum ; but that was for pipes
over double the area that would in
future be used ; and Mr. Chadwick said
that according to the best of his infor-
mation, 14s. per acre might be set down
as the establishment charges and work-
ing expenses, including ten dressings
during the season. The expense of
each additional dressing of twenty tons
of liquified manure (or watering with
simple water) by steam power, was
stated at about Is. under ordinary cir-
cumstances. Where gravitation was
obtainable for pipe distribution, the
cost might be set down at from 7s. to
10s. per acre under ordinary circum-
stances.
A POPULAR ERROR CORRECTED. A
Western editor thinks that Columbus ia
not entitled to much credit for disco-
vering America, as the country is so
large he could not well have missed it.
E.M 1'LOYMENT FOR FEMALES.
147
EMPLOYMENT FOB FEMALES.
MR. BENNETT, the well-known watch-
maker of Cheapside, has addressed a
very sensible letter to the public
papers, pointing out the practicability
of employing females in the manufac-
ture of watches, and thus affording re-
munerative employment to thousands
of females who would otherwise be left
to live miserably upon the scanty pay of
needlewomen, or be driven to sinful life
as an easier source of present subsis-
tence :
"The pocket-watch is an article of
commerce of universal demand. The
sale can be increased to an indefinite ex-
tent in every corner of the civilised
globe, if we will but produce a trust-
worthy timekeeper at a very moderate
price. The Swiss are our only com-
petitors. But while the English first-
class watch retains its old and well-
deserved reputation, the Swiss are
beating us in every market in the price
of second and third class watches. They
give our model, as accurately and of
greater elegance, cheaper by thirty or
forty per cent., diity paid, to our own
doors.
" Their superiority arises from a sys-
tem which is no secret, for I have
recently laid it before many large au-
diences. Their admirable method of
public education is one of the chief
causes of their success. They know
an ignorant can never be a skilful
workman. The next cause of their
superiority lies in a minute subdivision
of labour, in which they attach the ut-
most importance to the peculiar deli-
cacy of touch possessed by the female
hand over that of the more clumsy-
fisted man. There are parts of the
mechanism of such exquisite delicacy as
to demand the nicest possible manipu-
lation.
" Why, then, in our stupid prejudice
against the employment of women, will
we reject what will give us the maxi-
mum of quality for the minimum of
cost?
" Why refuse the ready means that
will enable us soon to compete with
the Swiss both in the home and foreign
markets? Last year only 186,000
watches were made in Great Britain,
while the canton of Neufchatel sent
out 1,500,000 ! The manufacture has
departed entirely from Paris, and we
may dread a similar catastrophe unless
we reform our present unscientific plan.
I am prepared to explain how this may
be accomplished, the two prime requi-
sites being a well-arranged system of
education, like that of the Swiss, and
the gradual employment of some thou-
sands of those women who are now
forced to drag on a profitless existence
on a pittance barely enough to keep a
dog.
" This reduction of the price would
so greatly extend the sale as to give ad-
ditional demand for all those portions
of the work for which the man's hand
is best adapted, while to the women of
London would be opened up a source of
remuneration that would benefit alike
the producer and the consumer.
" Its cleanliness and lightness would
well suit the natural conformation of
the woman's delicate fingers, and being
done at her home would never be neces-
sarily detrimental to the due perform-
ance of her domestic duties."
It will be a matter for much regret if
a suggestion so valuable should pass
away, as many such suggestions do,
with merely a few newspaper comments
and commendations.
Some time ago, a respectable firm (we
believe the Messrs. Chambers, of Edin-
burgh), pointed out the propriety of
employing females in the art of wood
engraving, an art easily acquired, and
very remunerative to the industrious
and the skilful. But we think that the
idea has never been developed as it
should have been.
If influential personages among
whom the Duchess of Sutherland and
the Earl of Shaftesbury stand con-
spicuous were to found an institution
for promoting the employment of
females in the various occupations for
which they are eminently adapted, they
would confer an immense blessing upon
society, and save thousands of virtuous
women from the worst ruin that can
befal them.
148
RESTRICTION ON THE SALE OF POISONS.
In America, we believe, females are
frequently employed in the setting up
of printing types; and there are a few
instances in this country in which the
proprietors of local newspapers have in
structed their daughters in the handi
craft of " composing" types for the press
What are the proprietors of The
Ladys Xeicspaper doing? Why do
not they take the initiative ? Let them
have their paper produced entirely by
females ; let their paper be written
their drawings and engravings be pro
duced by females, and the types be set
up also by females. This would be an
experimental step which would be un-
doubtedly successful.
The social advancement of woman
has always been a theme of much dis-
cussion. And in this, as in the question
of national education, practical good has
been lost amidst diversity and con
tention.
It is undoubtedly desirable to keep
women womenly ; to avoid overstepping
the bounds of propriety, and the deve-
lopment of masculine qualities where
tenderness and grace should abound.
But the absence of any effort in a right
direction, leaves the way open to un-
impeded wrong. Thus it is that wo-
man becomes demoralised, and spreads
a baneful influence over society.
There are many sources of female em-
ployment not yet developed. And in
penning these remarks we have been
actuated by a desire to raise the sub-
ject in the consideration of mankind.
We saw lately in the Times an adver-
tisement somewhat to the following
effect :
"WANTED TWO HUNDRED
POUNDS, to save 12 girls from ruin."
The advertisement went on to say that
this sum of money was required to get
the girls into an asylum where they
would be provided for, and placed
under moral restraint. This is trifling
with a great evil. There are twelve
hundred thousand women in this great
kingdom, claiming help and guidance
from the better classes of society. To
teach woman independence, and to give
her the means of its enjoyment, are j
alike necessary. "\Ys shall be glad co
publish, in our future nrvMto^ sug-
gestions in aid of this great work ; and
we shall be much disappointed if the
subject be allowed to fall into obli-
vion.
RESTRICTION ON THE SALE OF
POISONS.
MRS. DOVE'S case backs up many others
in teaching us that a much more strin-
gent and absolute interference ought to
be made with the distribution of poisons.
We know that they may stray into
hands that are xintaught, careless, or
guilty. There can be no difficulty in
placing a very serious check. No man
ought to be allowed to sell poison un-
less the purchaser brings an official
"permit" from the police magistrate of
the district, or from a borough or county
magistrate where no police magistrate
exists. The permit should state the
exact quantity, and the natae of the
applicant; while the quantity allowed
to him should be registered in the re-
cord of the magistrate's office. The
necessity for this permit would never
prevent the medical man from stocking
his own laboratory, or from administer-
ing medicine on his own responsibility.
The very necessity of applying for a
permit would in itself be a powerful re-
striction upon an improper use of such
dangerous and easily-hidden weapons.
Supposing that no one was guilty in
Mrs. Wooler's case, we still should have
had some clue to the poison itself, and
therefore to the hands that administered
it, whether by mistake or otherwise.
Supposing that any one was guilty, that
person would have had to come before
the police in order to qualify himself
for obtaining possession of his instru-
ment. Is it probable that in a case like
hat of Palmer, Monaghan, or Dove, a
person contemplating the use of poison,
would beforehand place himself in com-
munication with the police? Palmer
was a surgeon, and might possess poisons
nnocently in his profession; but the
exact amount and relative proportion to
.he average of a man's general const mp-
ion of drugs would have been traceable
)y the police mrgistrate. The rule
would at least secure the grand check of
publicity , and before thefact. Spectator
THE MOON AND ITS MOTIONS.
THE MOON AND ITS MOTIONS.
A DISCUSSION has for some time been
going on in the pages of the Times news-
paper, through the letters of correspon-
dents, the subject of debate being
whether the moon revolves upon its
axis. The discussion opened by a
letter from one of the inspectors of
schools, who ventured to doubt the
accepted theory, and who therefore
claims at least to be considered a man
of original and independent thought.
The Athenceum makes the following
remarks upon the subject :
" The inspector of schools will not give
in. Letter after letter appears in the
Times to prove that the moon does not
turn on her axis. The controversy will
be useful, because the inspector's mis-
take is one which so many have made
and do make. He has not plenty of
followers, because the world at large
respects the opinion of those who have
studied geometry, and is content to
suppose they must be right on geome
trical questions. But there are persons
who wonder how it can be that the
geometers are right and the inspector
wrong in the present case. The diffi-
culty is that the two rotations may be
conceived by one act of thought, and
effected by one apparatus, if desired.
Persona who are accustomed to see a
double effect produced by one process
frequently find a difficulty in imagining
the two effects separately. When a
man walks round a circle, following his
nose, he turns on his own axis, because
he makes his nose point to all the
points of the compass one after another.
How can a nose first point north and
theu south without a right about face ?
But this double procedure is so usual
and simple that it seems all one job. So
that if the man wished to walk round
the circle, and yet keep his nose turned
towards a very distant object say he
wanted, without leaving the circle, to
keep on inspecting a school three miles
off he would be sensible of the effort
requisite to effect this departure from
his usual mode of travelling, and would
magine that he had to make a new
kind of rotation, whereas all he has to
do is to remember not to make the old
one, to which he is well accustomed.
Again, the turning round the axis is
unnoticed because it is gradual. But
suppose a person to neglect the gradual
turning on the axis until the necessity
for it mounts up. When a point tra-
vels over the four sides of a square, it
moves round the centre of the square,
though not always at the same distance.
Now, let a man walk round the square.
When he comes to the corner he must
make a quarter face, unless he prefer to
walk sideways. And this he does four
times. Now let it be a regular octagon :
he makes an eighth of a face eight
times. Next, a figure of sixteen sides :
a sixteenth of a face sixteen times. Go
on in this way, and as the sides become
more numerous, and severally smaller,
the turns become severally less and
more frequent. Finally, at the limit,
as the mathematicians say, the figure
becomes a circle, the turning becomes
gradual, and the successive rectilinear
motions merge in a continuous circular
motion. If our readers will ponder this
explanation a little, they will probably
arrive at the conclusion that a person
who cannot make it out is not fit to be
an inspector of schools. We bear, of
course, no ill will to the unlucky specu-
lator ; but we must say we do feel for
the teachers who are to be subjected
to his overlooking, and to be judged of
by his reports."
The following is Dr. Dion. Lardner's
opinion upon the subject:
"Considering that the proposition
advanced by the ' Inspector of Schools,'
is in direct contradiction to the conclu-
sions of all the more eminent astrono-
mers of the present and the last age,
and that it relates not to a point of
abstruse mathematical physics, but to
one depending on the most elementary
mechanical principles, it would be won-
derful indeed if it were not completely
erroneous. Now, although it cert .".inly
is so, it is very evident, from the mat-
ter of the various answers elicited, that,
however universally the moon's rotation
has been admitted, the reasoning by
which it has been established still
requires elucidation and development
150
DIET, AND THE DIGESTIBILITY OF FOOD.
before its conclusiveness can be pen
linary minds, and I think it would
be more rational to supply such '
tion than to attempt to pooh-pooh the
question. I am the moiv free, to say
this, as I have attempted myself to
elucidate the point in more thaii one
of my elementary works and public
lectures, and I confess that something
more seems to me to be required to
satisfy common minds.
" If a terrestrial globe take for exam-
ple, Wyld's great globe in Leicester-
square bo placed with its axis parallel
to the axis of the earth, it will be
carried round the centre of the parallel
in which it is placed in 23 hours 56
minutes, presenting, like the moon,
always the same hemisphere to the cen-
tre of the parallel. No\v, the same
reasoning which proves the moon's
rotation must equally demonstrate that
Wyld's globe rotates on that diameter
which is parallel to the terestrial axis
once in 23 hours 56 minutes. Can it
be expected that common understand-
ings will readily admit this upon the
force of the received demonstrations ?
" To take another illustration of this
principle : a mountain- the Peak of
Teneriffe, For example is moved round
the centre of its parallel of latitude, pre-
senting always the same side to the
centre. This mountain is not a globe
like the moon, and has no geometrical
line analogous to the moon's axis; but
that does not affect the principle of the
question. The same reasoning which
proves the moon to rotate on its axis
must establish with equal conclusive-
ness the rotation of the Peak of Tene-
riffe upon a certain line as an axis of
rotation, that line passing through the
mass of the mountain in a direction
parallel to the terrestrial axis, the time
of rotation being 23 hours 50 minutes.
" The point requires more clear expo-
sition than it has yet received."
It appears to us that thi.s discussion
relates less t ) the facts of the ease
than to the meanings of the terms em-
ployed to explain those facts. If a body
turns while it is describing a revolution
in an extended orbit, can it be said to
revolve upon its axis? We think so.
What the moou does is precisely what
the earth does for the earth has its
orbit of revolution as w r ell as its rotation
upon its axis. If we deny that the
moon >on its axis, we must
also deny that the earth does so. And
if we succeed in confusing the terms
and ideas already received, what do we
gain ? Everybody who understands the
subject at all, knows that the moon, as
\\v11 as the earth, has its orbit of revo-
lution as well as its axis of rota-
tion, and that they both perform the
latter while going through the former.
DIET, AND THE DIGESTIBILITY
OF FOOD.
IN connexion with the medical hints
given in Enquire Within, we think the
following hints by Jabez Hogg, Esq.,
F.R.C S., published in his Medical and
Surgical Gwidc, excellent:
In the treatment of many diseases,
attention to diet is of the utmost impor-
tance. It is very necessary in disorders
of the digestive and urinary functions, in
chronic or long-continued diseases of
the assimilating or converting org^is
in which the appetite is impaired, or
even decreased. The patient should be
very particular in the employment of
a diet neither improper from the quan-
tity nor quality, as this would retard
the best-directed efforts of medical aid.
Several kinds of diet are usually re-
commended in the various forms of
disease, the most important being :
Animal Diet. This term is applied
to a diet composed principally of animal
food ; but, in speaking of a diet of this
kind, it is usual to permit the use of
eggs, cheese, new milk, beef tea, mutton
broth, and such like articles to be taken
with a proportionate amount of animal
food. There are but fe\v '.
quiring a diet exclusively of this kind;
the most important are diabetes,
scrofula, and those cases wherein it i*>
desirable to combine a highly stimula-
ting and nutritious diet.
Vegetable Diet is termed spare diet.
This is used to indicate the employment
of vegetable substances principally, not
exclusively. It in general includes the
use of fish, with a small quantity of
DIET, AND THE DIGESTIBILITY OF FOOD.
151
poultry and butter. In full habits this
diet is ordered, if apoplexy or gout is
threatened; and by its adoption we
diminish the quantity of nutritive mat-
ter supplied to the system, while we
keep the digestive organs actively em-
ployed.
Milk Diet. Besides cow's milk, this
diet includes the use of farinaceous
substances, such as arrowroot, sago,
tapioca, rice puddings, and bread. Milk
diet is ordered when it is necessary to
support the system with the least possi-
ble stimulus or excitement. It is well
adapted for inflammatory diseases of the
chest, of the stomach, bowels, and
bjadder. After bleeding from any
internal part, when the powers of life
have been gradually exhausted, a light
diet is very beneficial ; it is also consi-
dered a preventive and curative of gout.
In the diseases of children, especially
those of a scrofulous nature, it is highly
recommended.
Low Diet. In acute inflammation, in
fever after serious accidents, operations^,
and after childbirth, a low diet is abso-
lutely necessary, consisting principally
of slops, such as tea, weak broth, barley-
water, and toast-water. Small quanti-
ties of milk and farinaceous matters, in
the shape of gruel and arrowroot, are
sometimes added.
Full, or Common Diet. On many
occasions, where it is desirous to restore
or support the powers of the system,
patients are permitted to satisfy their
appetites with plain vegetable and
animal food. In many indolent diseases,
in some affections of the nervous system,
as epilepsy, &c., and in convalescence
after illness, this kind of diet is fre-
quently of much service.
A physician observes : " Many of our
customs, manners, and habits are pre-
judicial to health. Some of them are
physical, while others are moral in their
effects. Nothing more plainly betrays
our ignorance of even the principles of
health, and at the same time our slavish
submission to selfish indulgence, than
the custom of eating wppers by which
we do not mean the mere eating a slice
of bread and cheese, but of making a
meal at that time. Instead of allowing
the body, with its multifarious powers,
to be refreshed by ' Nature's best
restorer, balmy sleep,' and the mind to-
be relieved from care and thought, irri-
tation, and excitement, the stomach is
loaded with (probably) a heterogeneous
mass of food, and the whole machinery
of the inward man is forced into sluggish
operation when the vital powers are at
the lowest ebb ; the brain, feverish and
disturbed, sends forth startling visions
and horrifying dreams until morning
dawns, when the haunted imagination
recovers itself, and is conscious of the
mental and bodily vigour being rather
exhausted than refreshed by the night's
turmoil. We would not have touched
upon this subject, but we are aware that
notwithstanding all the evils which
are known to follow in its tram the
practice of nightly repletion is still too
common."
It now becomes our duty to inquire
into the properties and effects on the
stomach, of the articles of food employed
to supply the waste of our bodies, and
maintain us in health. The suitability
of particular kinds of food to the varied
constitutions of man is not made that
study and science its importance de-
Mittc. This causes wind and acidity
in some stomachs, which effects can be
remedied by mixing about half an ounce
of lime water to each pint. Milk, when
it agrees with a person, is useful in
scrofulous affections, and where debility
and morbid sensitiveness exist, in early
stages of consumption of the body, in
cases of enlarged glands, diseased affec-
tion of the joints, and in continued
rheumatism of the joints. A milk diet
is not sufficient for any one having con-
tinued and active exertion, but it is for
those who are invalids. Asses' milk is
not so nourishing, but more easily
digested than that of the cow. Goats'
milk contains matter of a peculiar taste
and odour, which requires an invalid to
have good, pure air and some exercise to
easily digest.
Raw Milk is not commonly used
abroad, and we may observe that, when
boiled, it proves more agreeable to the
stomach. If, after boiling, it be put into
152
DIET, AND THE DIGESTIBILITY OF FOOD.
bottles, and well corked, or in tins
soldered up, it will keep daring many
mouths. Milk may also be purchased
in small cases prepared for long voyages.
This is made by gently simmering the
milk until nearly all the water is eva-
porated; it is then cooled and kept
carefully from the action of the air, re-
maining in a solid state ready for use ;
when required, a piece is put into the
cup of tea or coffee. The most certain
method for voyagers is to take with them
a supply of patent concentrated milk or
cream, which prevents disappointment
at a time when it is impossible to pro-
cure so useful an article in illness, c.
Or an excellent substitute may be
secured by laying in a supply of cocoa
and chocolate, having the milk and sugar
ready combined with them.
Skimmed Milk is more easily digested,
and not much less nutritive, than that
in the state as fresh drawn from the
cow.
The article called Sugar of Milk may
be purchased at any druggist's shop, and
is occasionally used instead of milk.
flutter always irritates the digestive
organs of those suffering from indiges-
tion, and especially when on toast, or in
a melted state. Butter is best when
fresh, well made, and from a cow fed on
grass. Salt butter is never so good as
fresh, and yet a little salt on fresh
butter facilitates its digestion. The
utility of butter to the invalid can only
consist in having a solvent effect oil the
bowels. It is generally thought better
to prevent children indulging in this
oleaginous matter, by placing before
them plain palatable food, for which
they have some liking, as milk and
bread, oatmeal porridge, etc.
Cheese, when toasted, is more easily
digested than when not so ; the richer,
and also the more mature it is, the
better. Decayed cheese, in some cases,
stimulates and assists a weak stomach
in the digestion of food. Good ripe
cheese contains a large amount of
nourishment, and is, with a little home-
brewed beer, a very wholesome meal.
Cream Cheese, when fresh and untainted,
is as digestive as ordinary ripe cheese.
Whey is an excellent drink in all
febrile disorders, at the same time it ia
nutritive and dilutent to the body.
Wine W/irif, taken warm, promotes the
action of the skin, and is a valuable
domestic remedy in colds and influenza.
Tamarind Whey is preferred by some
people ; it is prepared by boiling two
ounces of tamarinds into two pints of
milk, and then straining it through a
sieve. Cream of Tartar also makes an
excellent whey.
fyr/s.The yolk is best suited to a
very delicate stomach when lightly
boiled, but the white, even in a pudding,
may prove unpleasant to it. The entire
of a raw egg is one of the most easily
digested articles of diet known. Eggs
lightly poached are preferable to boiled
ones, while those hard boiled are the
worst to digest ; still, to persons under-
going great exertion in the open air, a few
hard-boiled eggs prove an excellent sub-
stitute in the absence of a regular meal ;
adding a little salt assists digestion.
Eggs ought to be used veiy fresh, as
they speedily, from their nature,
undergo decomposition. Immersed in
vinegar and water or quick lime they
will keep for some time. The eggs of
tiie duck and goose are less digestible
than those of the hen and wild birds.
Fat is not so digestive as lean, nor
does it possess nutritive properties ; it
is called a calorifiant, that is, maintains
the animal heat ; thus we find the inha-
bitants of cold climates indulge most
enormously in it, while in warm climates
it is neither relished nor does nature
supply it. It is useful as a dilutent of
the other portion of the food.
Bread baked in small loaves as toasted
before a hot fire, and not eaten new,
being freed from the effects of fermen-
tation, is the most easily digested.
Bread containing bran is occasionally
useful for irritating the stomach and
bowels, and thus preventing constipa-
tion ; but, if continued, the coarse
particles are apt to lodge in the intes-
tines, which is followed by severe de-
rangement, requiring medicine for their
removal. To those much troubled with
indigestion, fresh biscuits preserved from
the air or damp are the most suitable,
especially those made for use at sea.
DIET, AND THE DIGESTIBILITY OF FOOD.
153
Toast. In the act of toasting bread
we wish to get out the water, which
makes the bread cold, waxy, and heavy
of digestion. Perhaps we shall be best
understood if we first explain what
makes bad toast of a slice of bread, or
rather what makes it no toast at all, but
merely a piece of bread with two burnt
surfaces, more wet and waxy in the
heart than ever, and which not a parti-
cle of butter will enter, but only remain
upon the surface, and if vexed with
additional fire, turns to a rancid oil of
the most unwholesome description. If
the slice of bread is brought into close
contact with a strong fire, the surface
becomes covered with, or rather con-
verted into charcoal before the heat
produces any effect upon the interior of
the slice. This being done, the other
side is turned, and converted into char-
coal in the same manner. Charcoal, as
everybody knows, is one of the worst
conductors of heat. It is of no conse-
quence whether the said charcoal be
formed from wood, flour, or any other
substance, for its qualities are in every
case the same. Now, when the surfaces
of the slice of bread are charred over in
this manner, there is an end of toasting,
as no action of heat can be communica-
ted to the interior, and not one drop of
water can be evaporated. In this state
the slice of bread may be wholly burnt
to charcoal ; but until it is altogether
so burnt, the unburiit part will become
always more wet and unwholesome.
There is an illustration of this in putting
a potato in the middle of a strong fire
in order to be roasted. If the fire is
but hot enough, a potato the size of
one's fist may be burned down to a cone
not bigger than a marble, and yet that
cone will remain hard and scarcely
warmed.
Chestnut-brown will be far too deep a
colour for good toast ; the nearer you
can keep it to a straw-colour the more
delicious to the taste, and the more
wholesome it will be. If you would
have a slice of bread so toasted as to be
pleasant to the palate and wholesome to
the stomach, never let one particle of the
surface be charred. To effect this is
very obvious. It consists in keeping the
bread at the proper distance from the
fire, and exposing it to a proper heat for
a due length of time. By this means, the
whole of the water may be evaporated
out of it, and it may be changed from
dough which has always a tendency to
undergo acetous fermentation, whether
in the stomach or out of it to the pure
farina of wheat, which is in itself one of
the most wholesome species of food, not
only for the strong and healthy, but for
the delicate and diseased. As it is turned
to farina, it is disintegrated, the tough
and gluey nature is gone, every part can
be penetrated, it is equally warm all
over, and not so hot as to turn the butter
into oil, which, even in the case of the
best butter, is invariably turning a
wholesome substance into a poison.
The properly toasted slice of bread
absorbs the butter, but does not convert
it into oil ; and both butter and farina
are in a state of very minute division,
the one serving to expose the other to
the free action of the gastric fluid in the
stomach ; so that when a slice of toast
is rightly prepared, there is not a lighter
article in the whole vocabulary of
cookery.
Yeast Dumplings, are only good for
those with strong digestion, and who
have laborious out-of-door employ-
ment.
Vermicelli and Maccaroni are made
from a hard, small grained wheat ; the
flour is made into dough, and dried
until hard ; whether simply stewed,
taken with the gravy of meat, or used
as a vegetable, they seldow disagree
even with a weak stomach. If boiled
until soft, and eaten with French mus-
tard or jam, it makes a soluble and
wholesome dish, which may even be
taken by invalids.
Puddings are usually better than
Pies for those affected with indigestion,
especially if made with milk and eggs,
instead of butter, lard, suet, or treacle.
Baked puddings are not so good as
boiled, and those done under meat are
objectionable for weak stomachs. The
simplest form of constituting puddings
is that of flour, eggs, and milk Pan-
cakes fried in fat are not good.
(To be concluded in our next.)
154
ADVERTISEMENTS.
ADVERTISEMENTS INVESTI-
GATED.
31 ANY persons must have been struck
-with the large number of advertise-
ments which appear in the daily and
weekly papers (and the numbers of
which havr j^ivatly increased of late),
offering in return for remittances of
money, or small sums in post?
stamps, to return information, or grant
-certain benefits, which appear to be
singularly disproportionate to the
charges made. Some of these adver-
tisements have offered to show, in
return for a few shillings, how an in-
come of 5 a-week might be realised
with perfect ease; others have pro-
mised to impart knowledge of some
new and peculiar art, and to give em-
ployment by which 2 per week
might be earned, in return for a fee of
1 ; and various offers have been
made more or less tempting.
Although, upon the very face of
them such offers must be gross imposi-
tions, there is too much reason to fear
that very many persons, urged by ne-
cessity, and tempted by the highly-
coloured professions of the advertisers,
have been misled and duped. The
fact that these advertisements appeal-,
week after week, in our high-priced
advertising mediums, and that many
of these advertisements must have cost
as much as 20s. or 30s. each insertion,
sufficiently proves that this nefarious
method of obtaining money from
struggling but confiding persons, has
been too successful.
If any other proof were required of
the unmerited success of these fraudu-
lent advertisers, it would be supplied
by the number of letters we receive,
urging us to expose those deceptions.
As a matter of duty we have, there-
fore, taken up the subject, and in our
present INTERVIEW we publish a num-
ber of advertisements, and the " advan-
tages " which, upon application, we
have found them to offer. We think
it unnecessary to make remarks special
to each. We content ourselves with
the publication of the advertisements ;
and the reply received upon application
to the advertiser, and we leave the
to judge whether they are
fraudulent or not, and in what degree
they are so.
The following are those which we
ted ; and in our
next INTERVIEW w/hope to give the
lio whole of the remaining
ones, not included in the following list,
all feel obliged by such further
information upon the subject as those
of our readers, who have bought experi-
ence, may be able to supply :
24J, Skeldergate, York,
Miirch :ust, 1856.
Sir, I took in your valuable work ENQUIRE
WITHIN, and now take its succes-or, Tire
INTERVIEW. Among the various things you
set before your readers, I see you investigate
advertisements, and set the result of your
trouble before them; so, hoping I shall not
be deemed too intruding, I beg to enclose you
a reply I got in answer to an advertisement,
headed, in large flaring capitals, "250 Per
Annum for 10s ," stating that particulars
might be obtained by enclosing a postage
stamp to Mr. James Anderson, 20, Middle-
row, High Hoi born. London. Will you be
good enough to inform me. through the me-
dium of your valuable little 'magazine,
whether any faith is to be placed in. it ;
whether it is really a flourishing public com-
pany, as its circular would lead us to sup-
pose, or whether it is only a few or perhaps
only one person desirous of swindling those
who may put any faith in his assertions?
I am, sir,
Yours respectfully,
M. JACKSON.
EMPLOYMENT. -NO CAPITAL RE-
QUIRED. 1(0 Active Men are Wanted as
Agents, for Town and Country, to engage in
light and gentlemanly occupation, of a
remunerative nature. With ordinary in-
dustry, 6 a week maybe made, although,
with energy, double that amount would only
be a fair estimate. None need apply without
references.
There being so many applicants from
curiosity only, no letter can receive attention
nless 5s be enclosed by Money Order or
Stamps ; for which, samples of goods, all
particulars and instructions for immediate
operation, will be sent free. Unpaid letters
refused.
Address to the Manager, 30, Holywell-
street, Somerset House, London.
We sent a messenger to the above address,
laving instructed him to pay five shillings
'or the information. He found that, although
I'.tt.iTs were taken in, there was no one there
vho would be seen ; and upon inquiry next
door, our messenger was told that the adver-
isement was an imposition.
;EAD THIS; SQUINT EYES; -That
ugly deformity, squint, or cross-eyes, maybe
ADVERTISEMENTS.
155
easily and certainly cured, byscnding 12 un-
out postage stamp!?, witli :i stamped directed
envelope for reply, to HUBERT ARMSTRONG,
Esq., Morton road, Buckingham. Quite
painless, inexpensive, and has never been
known to fail. State age when sending.
The answer :
Never read or sew without fastening over
the eyes a pair of pasteboard funnels, four
inches long, wide enough to cover the eyes,
; ^dually tapering to a quarter of an
inch. By perseverance your eyes will be-
come quite straight, n. A.
PROFITABLE EM PLOYMEN 1 . Per-
sons in search of Employment, either as a
source of Income, or to fill up their leisure
hours, may hear of such, by which means
from 2 to 4 a-week may be realised, in
Town or Country, and by either sex, station
in life immaterial, by applying to .Mr A.
KOY, Orchard House, Clapton, London, en-
closing stamped directed envelope for reply.
THE ANSWER TO THOSE INQUIR-
ING EMPLOYMENT. -MIL ALFRED
ROY has great pleasure in announcing to
those in want of Employment, that he has
succeeded in making some very valuable
discoveries, by means of which he is now
enabled to place the means of earning a
handsome income within the reach of all.
The discoveries made by A. R. have these
advantages over all others, viz., that they
can be acted upon by every one, no matter
what their station in life ; the capital re-
guired to start with is so small, that it can
e raised by almost any one ; the employ-
ment is suitable for either male or female,
andean be carried on either during the day-
time or in the evening, in town or country.
Now comes the most extraordinary part of
the business ; any one having a capital of
ONE SOVEREIGN to start with, can, by adopt-
ing A. R.'s method, make an income of from
2 to 4 weekly. This will seem absolutely
impossible to most people ; but when they
read the printed instructions which A. II. is
ready 10 forward, they will be immediately
convinced not only of the probability of
wealth being within their reach, but also of
the certain/!/ of such being the case. The
plan is alike remarkable for its simplicity
and the ease with which it can be adopted.
All in want of money, no matter whether
the ignorant or well-informed, should im-
mediately make application forthis valuable
and extraordinary information, informa-
tion which can only be obtained from one
person, and that person ALFRED ROY,
who feels assured that all who act upon his
advice, will congratulate themselves upon
their good fortune, and consider their ad-
viser as their best friend, and entitled to
their everlasting gratitude. A. R , in con-
clusion, begs again to call attention to the
fact, that the employment is suitable either
for the poor man or woman, or the polished
gentleman or lady. The following are A.
R.'s terms: Each person requiring his in-
formation, must forward the sum. of 2s. Gd.
either by money order or postage stamps
(money order preferred) and at the same
time must faithfully promise to send him at
least one half of the first week's profits . A.
R. trusts that no one will forget the latter
part of the engagement, as all must be well
aware that the small sum of 2s. 6d. will
scarcely repay him for his trouble ; but his
object being to place his plan within the
reach of every one, he feels compelled
merely to make a small charge in the tirst
instance, and depend on the generosity of
his friends for his future reward. Those
persons who wish to avail themselves of the
present, splendid opportunity of making
money, can address (enclosing a feeof2s. 6d.
to Mr. ALFRED ROY, Orchard House,
Clapton, London. Each applicant is re-
quested to enclose a directed envelope, with
two postage stamps on it. Money orders to
be made payable at Hackney Post Office.
FOE THE BENEFIT OF SUFFERING
HUMANITY!!!
A RETIRED GENTLEMAN having
cured himself of Indigestion and Nervous
Debility, accompanied with Deafness and
Defect of Si^ht, after suffering upwards of
twenty-five years, thinks it his duty to make
the remedy known for the benefit of the
afflicted. "He will therefore forward the
particulars for the cure of the same on re-
ceipt of a stamped envelope properly di-
rected.
Address Hey. J. JOHXSTONE, No. 1, Park-
terrace, Heavitree, Exeter, Devonshire.
In answer to our application we received a
little book, badly printed, entitled "Baron
McKinseyon Health and Long Life." It
contains puffs of wonderful cures, said to
have been effected by " the Baron ;" adver-
tises two or three quack medicines, and of
course urges a confiding public to put their
cases under Baron McKiusey's direction.
"The Rev. J. Johnstone" appears to have
no other connexion with the matter than
that of disguising the real object of the ad-
vertisement
We intend to investigate the following
advertisements in our next INTERVIEW:
DESTINY.
THE FUTURE FORETOLD -Any per-
son wishing to have their future life revealed
to them correctly, should send their Age,
Sex, and eighteen stamps to Mr. VERNON
(whose prophecies never fail).
236, Bliickfriars-road. London.
TO THE LADIES. CLAIRVOYANCE.
MADAME MAYN, who has been con-
sulted by Royalty, will at any time (stating
age^ answer five questions relating to the
Past, Present, or Future; business, tira
of marriage, property, prospects in life, ice.,
on receiving Twelve uncut postage stamps-,
and a directed stamped envelope. 46, Lower
Essex-street, Birmingham.
THE 1-T It Ki: KEYKALED.
INFLUENCE OF THE STAR>. The
leading events of your life foretold of ab-
sent friends success in trade new engage-
156
ADVERTISEMENTS.
ments partnerships travelling, &c Send
the time of your birth, and twenty two un-
cut stamps to Mr. DAVID STELLA; 2, John-
street. Portland-town. London
NAEVUSOLOGY MOLES: their Signi-
fication iiii-1 Influence on the Past, Pre.-ent,
and Future K vents of Life Professor
BURLINGTON, on receipt of a letter (pre-
paid), containing Thirteen uncut postage-
stamps, and describing accurately the po-
sition, size, shape, and colour of any Moles,
on whatever part of the body, will send an
explanation of their signification, character-
istic of the disposition, temper, and tenden-
cies of those that bear them; describing
their mental and moral qualities, whether
good or bad; with their past, present, and
future influence on the events of life. This
extraordinary science, the result of years of
study, will astonish and gratify the most
prejudiced disbeliever in Occult Science.
Address, Professor BDRLINGTON, Paradise
Cottage. 9, Upper Marsh, Lambeth, London.
TO THE LADIES HONESTY
ENSURED.
A RETIRED CONFECTIONER continues
to send a choice Receipt and Instructions
for making extra superior PASTRY, which
cannot be surpassed During the last year it
has been proved and given the highest satis-
faction and delight to hundreds, as the
many letters from highly respectable ladies
will testify It will be sent for Thirteen
postage-stamps, a directed envelope, and
pre-paid letter, addressed to E. H. F., 45,
Howard-street, Reading.
has long been practised by Emelie Henr
with astonishing success. Her startling
delineations are b tli full and detailed, dif-
fering from anvtliin.ir hitherto attempted
All persons wishing to "know them-'
or any friend in whom they are interested,
must send a specimen of their writing,
stating age and sex (endosinp thirteen
penny postage stamps), to EMELIE HENRI, 98,
Berwick street, Soho, London, and they will
receive in a few days a minute detail of the
moral and mental qualities, talents, tastes,
affections, virtues, failings, &c., of the
writer, with many other things hitherto un-
suspected.
COURTSHIP MADE EASY; or, How to
Win a Lover. Miss WELLS continues to
send free to any address, plain directions to j
enable ladies or gentlemen to win the affec-
tions of as many of the opposite sex as their
hearts may desire. The proposal is simple,
but so captivating and enthralling that all
may be married, irrespective of age, appear-
ance, or position. Young and old, peer and
peeress, as well as the peasant, are subject
to its influence ; and last, it can be arranged
with such ease and delicacy that detection is
impossible. Address, Miss WELLS, 1, Mar-
ket-street, Caledonian road, London, enclo-
sing thirteen post-stamps, and receive full
particulars in course of post.
SECRETS WORTH KNOWING. Miss
WELLS is willing to communicate, on receipt
of thirteen stamps, a number of very impor-
tant and profitable "Secrets" of great
value to all, but especially to the fair sex.
This advertisement is bona fide and honour-
able.
HENRI, THE CLAIRVOYANT, is
again in London; any three questions of
the past, present, and future, will be truth-
fully answered by enclosing age, sex and IS
stamps to M. HENRI, 98, Berwick-street,
Soho, London. Sporting questions answered
KNOW Til Y.SELFr-The B.-C et art of
discovering the true character of individuals
from the peculiarities of their handwriting,
KNOW THYSELF! ELLEN GRAHAM
continues to give her useful and interesting
delineations of character, discoverable by a
graphilogical examination of the handwri-
ting. All persons desirous of knowing them-
selves, or the peculiar characteristics of any
friend in whom they are interested, must
send a specimen of the writing, s ating sex
and age, and enclosing the fee of 13 penny
postage stamps to Miss GRABAM, 14, Hand-
court, Holborn, London, and they will
receive in a lew days a minute detail of the
talents, tastes, affections?, virtues, failings,
&c., of the writer, with many other things
hitherto unsupected. "lam pleased with the
accurate description you have given of my-
self." Miss Smith." My friends pronounce
it to be faithful." Mr. C. Gorwyer.-" Your
skill is certainly wonderful." Mr. G. Sharp-
penton. " I am surprised and pleased with
your truthful delineations of my character."
Miss Whitting. " I fully coincide with your
estimate of his character." Miss Thompson.
"I consider you have described her charac-
ter very accurately." J. \ye, Esq. ' This
is the fifth time you have been perfectly
successiul." Wm. Cowper, Esq "Miss
Graham has established the truth of the
science of Graphiology. by several years'
successful practice of it." Family Herald.
YOUR DESTINY. NATIVITIES CAL-
CULATED, and questions carefully and
correctly solved, by Professor Bell, 1, Mar-
ket-street, Caledonian-road, Islington, Fee
2s. 6d. by stamps.
KNOW THYSELF. The secret art of
discovering the true character of individuals
from the peculiarities of their handwriting,
has long been practised by Professor i.ell,
with astonishing success. His startling de-
lineations are both full and detailed, differ-
ing from anything hitherto attempted. All
persons wishing to "know themselves." or
any friend in whom they are intere.-ted, mu.-t
send a specimen oftheir writing, stating age
and sex (enclosing thirteen penny j>u.-t >ge
stamps), to Protestor HELL. I, Market-
street, Caledonian road, Islington, London.
and they will receive in a few days a minme
detail of the mental and moral qualities,
talents, tastes, ailections, virtues, laiiin.'s,
&c., of the writer, with many other things
hit.herto unsuspected
Read THK GUIDE to COURTSHIP uud
MARRIAGE, free for 12 stamps.
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
157
65. MEMORY MODES OF
STUDY. We are not prepared to
recommend the use of any system of
artificial memory. Most of those we
have examined require more trouble to
understand than would enable the
student to gain the knowledge he seeks
without them ; and they too often make
those who use them mere mechanical
repeaters of facta, without enlarging
their judgments or adding to their
stock of real knowledge. To learn a
list of dates is of little use, unless the
student understands the causes and
results of the events whose place he
fixes in his chronology. An enlarged
view of periods of history, and a know-
ledge of the manner in which the
events of past ages influence the pre-
sent conditions of mankind, is more to
be valued than the most perfect memory
of dates. It is a common error of students
in science, to seek perfection in details
before mastering general principles, and
to overburden the mind with a series
of comparatively unimportant matters,
while they neglect to gain acquaintance
with the fundamental laws. This is as
absurd as the conduct of a man, who,
wishing to gain a complete knowledge
of a fine piece of architecture, began by
analysing the cement used in its con-
struction.
66. PRONUNCIATION INDIS-
TINCTNESS. One great cause of
indistinctness in reading, is sinking the
sound of some of the final consonants when
they are followed by words beginning
with vowels, and, in some cases, where
the following word begins with a con-
sonant. A common fault in reading
and speaking, is to pronounce the word
and like the article an. Example :
" dog an cat," instead of " dog and
cat." "Men an money," instead of
"men and money." This fault is
most offensive to the educated ear, if it
is committed when the following word
commences with a vowel of the same
sound, as in the sentence, " question an
answer," instead of " question and an-
swer ;" or, " he ate pears an apples, an
an egg," instead of "he ate pears and
apples, and an egg." In some parts of
the kingdom the final / is dropped,
especially before words beginning with
th. The word with before th is also
frequently slurred in a manner which
gives much indistinctness to utterance.
In reading or speaking in large rooms,
distinctness is secured only by the slow
utterance of words, between each of
which there should be a perceptible
interval.
67. WRITING MATERIALS.
Before the invention of writing as a
means of recording events, men planted
trees or erected rude altars or heaps of
stone, in remembrance of past events.
Pictures and statues were soon sug-
gested as symbolical or representative
things. Hercules probably could not
write when he fixed his famous pillars.
The most ancient mode of writing was
on bricks, tiles, oyster-shells; then
tables of stone or facets of blocks;
afterwards, on plates of ivory; and
finally, an approximation to the use of
paper was made by the use of the bark
and leaves of trees. It has been grace-
fully observed, that the ancients gave
speech to rocks, metals, and trees by
engraving memorable events upon them.
In the book of Job, mention is made of
engraving on rocks and sheets of lead.
The law of the Jews was said to be
written on tables of stone ; Hesiod's
works on leaden tables. The laws of
the Cretans were described as "en-
graven in bronze." The Romans etched
their laws on brass, and the speech of
Claudius, engraved on plates of bronze,
is said to exist in the town-hall of
Lyons. Bronze tables are still un-
earthed in Tuscany. Treaties and con-
veyances of property were also engraven
on brass, and official mementos hare
been found etched on copper. A bill
of f eoffment on copper, dated a century
before Christ, is stated to have been
dug up near Bengal. In early times the
shepherds wrote their songs with
thorns and awls on straps of leather,
which they wound round their crooks.
The Icelanders s6ratched their runes
on their walls, and their heroes appear
to have bestowed some of their leisure
in recording their own acts on their
chairs and bedsteads. Wooden boards
overlaid with bees-wax were sometimes
158
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
in use. The Mahomedans scratched
their chronicles on the blade-bones of
sheep.
68. WAX. Vegetal -b w:ix and
bees-wax differ in their elementary
composition. The former is a vegetable
product, forming the varnish of the
leaves of certain plants and trees ; it is
found also upon some berries as the
Myrica cerifcra, and it is an ingredient
of the pollen of flowers. It was long
supposed that bees merely collected the
wax ready formed in plants, but Huber
found that, though excluded from all
food except sugar, they still formed
wax. " Bees-wax " is obtained by drain-
ing and washing the honeycomb, which
is then melted in boiling water, strained
through calico or linen, and cast into
cakes. Many of the cakes sold in the
shops will be found to be moulded into
the shape of the inside of the cottage
dishes in which the melted wax was
cooled. Foreign wax comes from the
Baltic, the Levant, and the shores of
Barbary. It is bleached by exposure
in thin slices to air, light, and moisture,
or more rapidly by exposure to action
of chlorine. White-wax is generally
adulterated with spermaceti. It is
also mixed for artistic purposes with
Canada balsam, Venice turpentine, com-
mon resin, tallow, &c., &c.
69. DEAF AND DUMB. Deaf-
ness may be partial or complete. Where
it is partial, it usually arises from dis-
ease ; such as inflammation or destruc-
tion of the internal parts of the ear, or
disease of the throat, where the eusta-
chian tube opens at the back of the
nose. Where the deafness is complete,
it commonly arises from incomplete-
ness of the organs of hearing from
birth, and in such cases dumbness is
always the result. The reason of this is
obvious. The man who never hears the
sound which others useto communicate
their thoughts, can never imitate those
sounds. It has been found, indeed, in
those rare cases where complete deaf-
ness has arisen after children have
learned to talk, that they have retained,
only for a while, the memory of the
modes of speech ; but that their words
become fewer, till at last they have
forgotten altogether how to utter words
or articulate vocal sounds. In complete
deafness, the sufferers do not hear the
sounds which they themselves utter.
The effort to te:ich the dumb to talk
has been undertaken by ignorant per-
sons, who, having found all the organs
of the voice complete, supposed that in
that circumstance they found all the
conditions necessary for the production
of speech, being ignorant of the fact,
that speech is an imitation of sounds
heard, and that the integrity of the
organ of hearing was the first require-
ment.
70. ELECTRICITY OF THE AIR.
The earth and the surrounding
air have an extraordinary relation to
electricity.' These phenomena may be
referred to static or dynamic electricity ;
the latter occurs but rarely, as in case
of thunderstorms, &c., which are in-
stances of great local disturbance, as
there must be a great amount of this
abnormal action to produce a sensible
effect on the galvanometer. It is very
remarkable that these disturbances oc-
cur when the amount of atmospheric
electricity is at its minimum. The static
condition of atmospheric electricity is a
subject of much higher philosophical
interest. From the observations of M.
Quetelet, it appears First, that the
amount of electricity ab any given mo-
ment varies at different altitudes, but is
the same at all similar altitudes. Se-
condly, that it increases directly with
the distance from the earth's surface.
Thirdly, that it is greatest in the coldest
months. Fourthly, that in the course
of the day it is greatest at 8 A.M. and
9 P.M. Fifthly, that it is greater when
the sky is clear than when it is clouded.
Sixthly, that the electricity of fog or
snow is double that of rain, and equal
to the mean maximum of the cold
months. During his observations, con-
tinued through five years, M. Quetelet
found the atmosphere in a negative state
in twenty-five instances only, and all
these occurred either immediately
before or immediately after rain, or a
storm. As to the dependence of
electricity on the direction of the wind
it appeared to be greatest when the
wind was from S.E. to E.S.E., and from
W.N.W. to N.W.
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
159
71. COLLEGE EXPENSES. Ox-
ford. Several correspondents ask
" Which college is the least expensive
for persons wishing to study and gra-
duate at ?" This is a question v/hich
has been asked, no one knows how
often, during the last 120 years, and
still continues to be of great interest.
Mr. Eden, a fellow and ex-tutor of Oriel
College, published a work on College
Expenses and Poor Scholars; and the
Rev. 0. Gordon, Considerations. It has
been stated, upon high authority, that
a young man might have rooms, food,
and college tutor for 80 a-year (of
twenty-two weeks). As observed in an
excellent article on this subject in the
Oxford Protestant Magazine for October
1847 Oxford expenses are of two or
three classes : there are the voluntary,
the involuntary, and an ugly class,
which may be called the unreckoned, or
the unconscious, or the miscellaneous.
For the first only are the college
authorities directly responsible. The
expenses of a quiet reading man, as
incurred during his first year of
residence, are given as follows : Pre-
liminary Expenses: Caution money,
30 ; admission fees, 5 ; matriculation,
1 18s. 6d. ; furniture, 40 ; making a
total of 76 18s. 6d. For Lent term
(eight weeks), he paid for food (battels),
university dues, tuition, rent, coals, and
laundress, 21 17s. ; for Easter term
(six weeks), in the same manner was
expended 19 11s.; for Act term
(three weeks), 14 2s. ; and for Mich-
aelmas term (five weeks), 23 2s.;
making the current expenses for the
one year equal to 78 12s., or for the
three years, 235 16s. Add to this the
preliminary expenses, and we find that
upon the three years there has been an
outlay which may be called compul-
soryequal to 312 14s. 6d., or an
average of 104 4s. lOd. per annum.
In addition, however, the four grace
terms of non-residence are charged for,
of which the expenses are equal to
about 21 8s. To this must be added
the fees for B.A. (12 6s.) and M.A.
(22 12s.) degrees; making a grow
total of 369 Os. 6d. From this is to
be deducted caution money, and thirds
for furniture, returned 54 ; leaving a
nett total of 315 Os. 6d., or 105 per
annum. To this must be added tin-
expenses of tea, sugar, and candles
(which the college does not provide), thf
fees of a private tutor, and the expense^
of books, and what are called extraa,
which may be regarded as closely allied
to necessaries. The poor student,
therefore, pays for one hundred weeks'
residence in Oxford upwards of 400.
[See the Report of the Bristol Education
Society.] The least expensive collcy
for a man of thirty years of age is Pem-
broke or Exeter. The expenses are
said to be a little less at what arc
called " Halls." In reply to question*
about " terms to be kept," we should
refer our pupils to the Unir
Calendar (6s.) for more detailed
particulars than we can here give.
There are four terms in the year, the
lengths of which respectively had been
given above. Sixteen terms (nominal}
are required for the degree of B.A. from
commoners ; and they are allowed to
be candidates for the degree after
having completed three years; but
owing to certain regulations, residence
for twelve terms only is actually
necessary. From the admission to B.A^
twelve nominal terms are computed
before the admission to M.A., but only
one term is actually required. For
B.C.L. (bachelor in civil laws), twenty-
eight nominal terms are necessary, but
seventeen only need be actually kept.
The regulations of matriculation are
private with your college tutor. In
answer to A. R., and others, we reply
that a B.A. of Dublin may get his terms
allowed, but must pass an examination
before obtaining a decree. The differ-
ence between the " incorporation " and
" ad eundem gradum," is, that the
latter only gives a vote in convocation.
W. B. F., &c. The terms at St. Bees' do
not count at Oxford. Cambridge. The
college expenses at ^Cambridge, which
appear to be very disproportionate
pared with those of the Scotch universi-
ties, amount to about 80 per annum,
exclusive of tradesmen's bills
private tutorage. For this sum, the
student is entitled to- the exclusive use
160
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
of two rooms in college, to dine in the
college hall during term, and to attend
the various classes. These meet mostly
for two or three hours each day. The
subjects of study for the first year are
the classical authors, elementary
mathematics, and Old Testament
history ; second year, the same, with
the addition of the evidences of the
Christian religion, moral philosophy, and
Greek and Roman history ; third year,
the higher mathematics, theology
(patristic and polemical), the history
and antiquities of the Christian Church,
and the Liturgy of the English Church.
The whole of the three years' studies,
if diligently pursued, are believed to be
calculated to ground the student well
in the three important divisions of
learning history, philosophy, and
science ; and to strengthen (as Dr.
Whewell has shown in his Cambridge
Studies) the two most important of the
human faculties reason and language.
I ought to mention that at Trinity
College there is an entrance examination
in Homer's Iliad, Xenophon's Memora-
bilia, Virgil's ^Eneid ; arithmetic ; the
elements of algebra ; and Euclid, books
i. and ii. P.S. The student has an
opportunity of attending lectures, if he
please, for a trifling fee, in every branch
of learning botany, chemistry, geology,
medicine, anatomy, physic, and in all
the modern languages, in addition to
the regular course of study. J. A. L.
Edinburgh. An Edinburgh corre-
spondent writes : " In Edinburgh, the
session begins on the first Tuesday of
November, and closes about the middle
of April. The matriculation ticket costs
1. The literary, philosophical, and
divinity classes, are three guineas each.
The medical classes vary from 2 to 7.
Taking 8 as class fees, one's total ex-
penses for a session need not exceed
25." A Glasgow student states that the
fees there only differ in the matiicula-
tion fee, which is 7s. 6d. The students
are under no restrictions except in the
class rooms ; they can live where they
think proper, and do what they please.
(Seep. 19.)
72. TRiFLES. The best essay we
know on the importance of small mat-
ters is to be found in Tupper's Prover-
bial Philosophy. We remember hearing
how a French poet had inscribed a copy
of verses A Ou'dlcmette, chienne de ma
Sceur. In a second edition, it is said,
the word ma having dropped out, th
letters were placed by mistake in such
a manner, as to make the sentence read
ma chienne de Sceur. In 1717 a Bible
was printed at the Clarendon Press, in
which the heading of the 20th chapter
of Luke stood thus " The parable of
the Vinegar ." By mistake a g had
been substituted for a y and the d
dropped out. A quarrel about an old
bucket has ere now lead to a destruc-
tive war; a trifling accident has de-
stroyed a city. The most important in-
terests frequently depend upon a steady
and uniform attention to small matters.
We have no faith in men who are so
impressed with their own conceptions
of the immensity of their "mission,"
that they spend their energies in pride-
blown vapourings, and are too self-
satisfied to condescend to pay attention
to " details." They can live for nothing
less than " the universe," and therefore
forget their duty to the " limited circle"
of fellow creatures in the "narrow sphere
of reality." It is easier to talk of the
" devotion of a life to the elevation of our
fellow-man," than to give a week's steady
attention to collecting for the support
of a Sunday school.
73. HOMOEOPATH Y-The practice of
dividing medicines infinitesimally is not
an essential principle of homoeopathic
practice, which is founded upon the
principle that similia similibus curan-
tur. The method consists essentially
in the administration of medicines,
which are presumed to excite in healthy
persons symptoms similar to those of
the disease. Thus, eruptions of the
skin being produced by sulphur, sul-
phur is applied as a cure ; quinine pro-
ducing intermittent febrile symptoms is
used as a specific for ague ; and ur.senic,
in minute doses, being found to give
rise to symptoms analogous to those of
cholera, is indicated as the specific for
that frightful disease. Though disci-
ples of the Allopathic school, we cannot
deny that singular success has attended
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
161
homoeopathic practice on several occa-
sions ; as, for instance, in the treatment
of the cholera in England and Russia ;
and still more singularly in the treat-
ment of the destructive typhus, which
contributed to the depopulation of Ire-
land. As with phrenology and other
sciences, the professors of homoeopathy
have been too often its greatest enemies,
by claiming for its practice, &c., higher
value than really belongs to it. A large
proportion of those who practise homoeo-
pathy adopt the plan of administering
medicine in a state of minute subdivi-
sion on the ground that medicines so
presented to the absorbing surfaces of
the body more rapidly pass into the
blood ; but we have never heard any
person argue that " the smaller the
dose the greater the effect." Mr.
Sampson's work is the best popular
treatise on the subject, we believe.
74. VEGETABLE ACIDS IN RE-
LATION TO CHOLERA. Some of
your readers will, doubtless, recollect
having read in the Lancet for 1854 and
1855, allusions made to the exemption
of Jews from cholera, and the causes
assigned for their immunity by some
to olive oil, others to abstinence from
pork and shell-fish, also from spirituous
liquors, and by myself to the free use of
lemon-juice and vinegar with articles of
diet. The exemption of Jews fi*om
cholera more than any other race has
been doubted by some. That many
have died of the disease, I cannot but
admit ; but I suspect that some of those
who were attacked were afraid of con-
tinuing, in times of cholera, the vegetable
acid diet. Amongst the few of the
Jewish persuasion whom I may call
patients, I fo >nd more than one family
who thought: that acids of all kinds
should be avoided, and some of these
had diarrhoea. Michel Levy, in his
"Traite" d' Hygiene," alludes to the ex-
emption of Jews from cholera, and
Iskand de Diembrack, M.D., in his work
on the Plague, published by him in
Latin, in "1722, and translated into Eng-
lish by Thomas Stauton, surgeon, states
this, in reference to plague : " It is very
remarkable that in the histories of many
pestilences, notice is frequently taken of
the exemption of Jews from infection."
Both authors dwell upon the diet of
Jews, but rather allude to the vegetable
acids, which, from times immemorial,
the Jews have been in the habit of
using more or less. I would willingly
enlarge upon this subject, but fear to
trespass too much at present on the
pages of your journal, well knowing
that many of your correspondents, who
have a prior claim to me are awaiting
their turn for their articles to appear.
In conclusion, I will express a hope that,
should the cholera unfortunately visit
us this or any succeeding summer, a fair
trial will be given to some of the vege-
table and mineral acids, both as pre-
ventive and remedial. I am, Sir, your
obedient servant, J. H. TUCKER :
Berners-street, April, 1856.
75. SLEEP AND STUDY. It is a
common complaint " When I want
to study, I invariably fall asleep."
There are many reasons why this is the
case. A frequent cause of the sleepiness
of the student over his book is the
choice of an improper hour for reading,
as for instance after dinner, or at a
late hour in the evening, after the
physical energies of the bodies are ex-
hausted. Smoking, and the drinking of
spirituous liquors, also produce sleepi-
ness. A still more common cause of
drowsiness is the direction of the mind
constantly to the same subject in the
same manner ; this is the mistake of
diligent students, who forget that the
mind, like the stomach, requires a mixed
diet, and loses its appetite and power of
digestion, unless the nutriment is varied,
at least in form. The effort to study
continuously, when the brain declares
itself unfitted to receive more excita-
tion in that particular manner, is de-
cidedly injurious, and should not be
persisted in. If it is necessary to pursue
the subject, the manner of study should
be varied. A friend may be requested
to question the student, or he may
" test his knowledge" by contriving
questions, and looking out the answers
in his works of reference, which should
be read aloud. We know a man of very
moderate abilities, but who has achieved
a high position, and who attributes
162
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
much of his success to a habit of a
pore speaking in his room to an
imaginary audience, when reading had
become wearisome. The student often
induces drowsiness by foolishly making
his study, his table, his chair, and his
habits, as luxurious as possible. We
-it in an easy chair, and we would
advise every ambitious student invaria-
bly to eschew all such luxuries as
loungiug-chairs, thick table-cloths, elbow
cushions, handsome readintr-rans. and
all varieties of book-rests. We know a
real " study" at a glance, by the absence
of all such things. The want of a
proper supply of oxygen in the blood
sent to the brain, is another fruitful
cause of sleepiness in the student who
shuts himself up in an ill-ventilated
room, or sits down to study immedi-
ately after coming from the cold con-
densed air, which, at each inspiration,
supplies him with more oxygen than the
warm expanded atmosphere of a heated
room. Too large or too small a supply
of blood to the brain produces drowsi-
ness ; the former is the more frequent
cause, but may be relieved by tying a
damp towel round the head. A common
mistake of the studious is to over-heat
their rooms, and to sit near the fire,
whereby their heads become heated,
and the blood driven from the feet,
which are chilled by the cold (and com-
paratively heavy) air which flows al<>ng
the floor. A thermometer should be
suspended in every study. Excellent
instruments may be purchased for one
shilling at Bennett's, 65, Cheapside. A
regulated temperature is au important
item in the causes of the health and
success of the studious.
76. THE BLACKBERRY. Very
few regard this shrub as of the slightest
value it does, however, possess some
qualities which entitle them to the
attention of others than the mere
passer-by. For instance : the black-
berries have a defeiccative and astringent
virtue, and are a most appropriate
remedy for the gumsand inflammation oi
the tonsils. Boerhave affirms that the
root? taken out of the earth in February
or March, and boiled in honey, are
au excellent remedy against dropsy.
Syrup of blackberries, picked when only
red, is cooling and astringent, in com-
mon purgiuga, or fluxes. The bruised
leaves, stalks, and unripe fruit, applied
outwardly, are said to cure ring-worm.
Passing through the cultivated grounds
of the Messrs. Needhams, in West Dan-
vers, our attention was attracted to some
h ixi iriant bushes, about four feet in height
which we were told yielded a berry-
called the ii'kitc blacUx'i-i'tf. To-day we
have been kindly favoured by the gen-
tlemanly proprietors with a box of this
fruit matured. It is not exactly white,
but more white than black, resembling
in appearance and taste the fruit of the
mulberry quite as much as the black-
berry. The luxuriant growth and
abundant produce of this shrub make it
desirable to be cultivated by those who
are ambitious of supplying a variety of
the best fruits of the season. New
Enf/ln.nd Fanner.
77. CHINESE ETIQUETTE.
When a Chinese emperor dies, the in-
telligence is announced by despatches
to the several provinces, written with
blue ink, the mourning colour. All
persons of rank are required to take the
red silk ornaments from their caps,
with the ball or button of rank ; all sub-
jects of China, without exception, are
called upon to forbear from shaving
their heads for one hundred days, with-
in which period none may many, play
on musical instruments, or perform any
sacrifice.
78. CLOVES. Cloves are the un-
opened flowers of a small evergreen
tree that resembles in appearance the
laurel or the bay. It is a native of the
Molucca, or Spice Islands, but has been
carried to all the warmer parts of the
world, and is largely cultivated in the
tropical regions of America. The
flowers are small in size, and grow in
large numbers in clusters at the very
ends of the branches. The cloves we
use are the flowers gathered before they
have opened, and whilst they are still
green. After being gathered they are
smoked by a wood fire, and then dried
in the sun. Each clove consists of two
parts, a round head, which is the four
petals or leaves of the flowers rolled up,
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
163
enclosing a number of small stalks or
filaments. The other part of the clove
is terminated with four points, and is,
in fact, the flower-cup, and the unripe
seed-vessel. All these parts may be
distinctly shown if a few leaves are
soaked for a short time in hot water,
when the leaves of the flowers soften,
and readily unroll. The smell of cloves
is very strong and aromatic, but not
unpleasant. Their taste is pungent,
acrid, and lasting. Both the taste and
smell depend on the quantity of oil
they contain. Sometimes the oil is
separated from the cloves before they
are sold, and the odour and taste in
consequence is much weakened by this
proceeding.
79. WATER. Well water may be
affected as to purity, taste, &c., by the
presence of mineral salts, or of animal
matters. The mineral substances are
silica, alumina, carbonates, and phos-
phates of lime and magnesia, sulphate
of alumina and potass, chlorides of
calcium, magnesium, sodium, and
nitrates of the same bases. These
mineral salts, in small proportions, do
not seriously affect the qualities of
water used for domestic purposes ;
when, however, they are in large pro-
portions or combined with animal
matters, the water is not fit for either
washing or drinking. The presence of
animal matters is, therefore, of the very
highest importance, since their effects
on the human economy produce dysen-
tery, and various maladies which appear
to be contagious, because the whole
population acquire the poison at the
same source, and are affected at the
same time. Hence burial-grounds of
all kinds should be at such a distance
from the town as to prevent the injury
of the wells by the filtration of the rain
through the soil of such places. We
have observed in more than one in-
stance, that where the burial-grounds
of a town are much above the level of
its streets, or are placed in its centre,
that the mortality is above the average.
The presence of magnesia, in con-
siderable quantities, in well-water, has
been said to produce goitre and cre-
tinism ; but there is some doubt as to
the truth of this statement. The dis-
agreeable taste of the water sent to us
appears to be derived from alumina
dissolved in an excess of carbonic acid.
It contains also a large quantity of
vegetable matter, derived, apparently,
from filtration through peat, or by
passage over moor land. The soil
generally exercises a great purifying
power, by the oxidation of organic
matters. [See Dr. Smith's Report, pub
lished in Jameson's Journal, No. 98.]
There are many natural water-purifiers.
In the Quarterly Review it is related
that Mr. Warrington had, for a year,
kept twelve gallons of water in a state
of admirably balanced purity by the
action of two gold fish, six watei'-snails,
and two or three specimens of that
elegant aquatic plant known as Vallis-
neria spiralis. Before the water-snails
were introduced, the decayed leaves of
the Vallisneria caused a growth of
slimy mucus, which made the water
turbid, and threatened to destroy both
plants and fish. But, under the im-
proved arrangement, the slime, as fast
as it was engendered, was consumed by
the water- snails, which reproduced it
in the shape of young snails, whose
tender bodies again formed succulent
food for the fish ; while the Vallisneria
plants absorbed the carbonic acid ex-
haled by the respiration of their com-
panions, fixing the carbon in their
growing stems, and luxuriant blossoms,
and supplying fresh oxygen for the
respiration of the snails and the fish.
The spectacle of perfect equilibrium
thus simply maintained between animal
t.nd vegetable, must have been very
beautiful; yet the experiment is so
simple, that any of our pupils may
repeat it with a certainty of success.
It is possible that some such means may
hereafter be made available on a large
scale, for keeping tank-wafer clean and
sweet.
WHEN we are alone, we have our
thoughts to watch*; in our families, our
tempers ; and in society, our tongues.
PERSEVERING mediocrity is much
more respectable, and unspeakably
more useful, than talented incon-
stancy. Life in Earnest.
DIET, AND THE DIGESTIBILITY OF FOOD.
DIET, AND THE DIGESTIBILITY
OF FOOD.
(From the Medical and Suryical <
(Concluded from page 153.)
Puddings. Pastry ought to be lijjht,
well cooked, but iiot what is called
1-ich or greasy. Hard dumplings lie like
a stoue on the stomach of most people.
Beef steak puddings and meat pies
ought never to be taken by those having
weak digestion.
Li; tie fancy cakes eat much shorter
if put while hot into a hot jar instead
of being allowed to cool according to
the usual custom.
Cakes, puddings, &c., are much better
if the currants, sugar, and flour used
are made hot before being mixed toge-
ther.
Oatmeal. Oats are best when grown
in a cold climate, and they seem to
agree with the inhabitants as a substan-
tial article of diet. Oatmeal is chiefly
valuable in the form of gruel, as it
soothes the stomach, is nutritive, and
easy of digestion. A little oatmeal
mixed with water is an excellent drink
when abstemiousness is necessary. As
a light supper, nothing is more fitting
than gruel for the delicate. In inflam-
matory affections, when proper to
change from toast and water, nearly
half a cupful of gruel may be given
every two or three hours. But there
are some persons with whom oatmeal
never agrees. Gruel for the sick ought
always to be boiled one hour. When
ib will sit comfortably on the stomach
of a child, oatmeal gradually stirred
into boiling water, and eaten with milk,
forms an excellent breakfast, not so
liable to produce costiveness as bread
and milk.
Barley. Bread made of the meal of
barley is not easily digested, but, from !
its flavour, is liked by those accustomed j
to it. Pearl barley is a great addition j
in the concoction of broth ; and as bar-
ley -water will often suit where oatmeal
gruel disagrees, mixed with milk it i.s
an excellent diet for the sick. It should
always be mads fresh, and boiled three
hours.
Rjc Bread acts ac a laxative ; but the
to which this '.Train is subject
will sometimes render the whole popu-
lation where it is used dangerously ill,
ami be productive of most alllicting
diseases.
AV-r. from its large proportion of
starch, is most excellent for the sick
and those of defective digestion ; it
forms an excellent substitute for vege-
tables when found productive of flatu-
lency ; its tastelessuess : easily
flavoured and palatable. It ought to
be well cooked, the grain much swelled,
but not broken ; by not stirring it in
the process of boiling it does not, what
the cooks call, "set on." Ground rice
is more readily cooked than when
whole. It is a good and economical
food for families.
Maize requires a taste to be acquired
for it, and then it is preferred to wheaten
bread. Mixed with wheateu flour, or
as puddings or porridge, it is, as reganis
digestion, about the same as ordinary
flour.
Pea Meal is very nutritious, but often
indigestible ; from the flavour it gives
to soup, it is highly relished, and espe-
cially used for that purpose on board
ship ; it is also said to act most benefi-
cially with sailors as a preventive
to scurvy. In the north it is often
made into bread, although the bread
made from it is heavy and not easily
digested.
Asparagus is prescribed in Spain as
a powerful diuretic. The less fibrous
vegetables are, the more easily they are
digested, yet they contain but a very
slight proportion of nutritious princi-
ple ; in this class there may be named
artichoke, sea-kale, vegetable marrow,
celery, the flower of the cauliflower, and
young French or kidney beans. Vege-
tables ought to be thoroughly cooked,
and the water in which they have been
boiled well drained from them before
use. French and kidney beans, when
old, contain a great deal of nourishment,
and are a good substitute for more
flatulent vegetables. Sea-kale and
asparagus were at one time insignificant
marine plants. The wild briar is the
parent of the rose ; the sloe, of plums,
peaches, apricots, and nectarines; the
DIET, AND THE DIGESTIBILITY OF FOOD.
165
crab, of apples of all kinds ; and corn,
the improvement of grass.
Potatoes. The best potatoes do not
contain a fourth of the nutritive matter
of wheaten flour. They are chiefly
valuable to dilute food that contains
a large proportion of albuminous mat-
ter. If man were to feed exclusively
on animal food, a vast train of evils
would arise ; and therefore, by partaking
of it moderately, while he supplies the
stomach with a sufficiency for the ex-
ercise of its functions, by some such
article of diet as potatoes he keeps up
a proper balance, tending to a healthy
state of body. Potatoes ought always
to be fully ripe and well cooked, and
not eaten with a " hard heart." The
manner of cookery, as to boiled, roasted,
or baked, is of no importance. It is
said, if boiled with their "jackets" tfn
they are more nourishing, but, if peeled
before boiling, more easily digested.
Spinach, when tender and fresh, is
easily digested. It acts as a stimulant
to the stomach and bowels, and is gently
laxative in many instances.
Turnips ought to be young, otherwise
they are apt to be slow of digestion,
and annoy the digestive powers.
Cabbages and Greens, if young and
quite fresh, are wholesome, but if even
a day old they frequently ferment and
produce wind and acidity during diges-
tion, which occupies some time. The
less fibrous they are the better.
Carrots and Parsnips are nutritious,
but rather difficult of digestion with
some persons.
Green Peas are best when young.
When old tbev aj*e hiel^v vv*r.t:r^,
but dr lYJl agree witn those who have
bad digestion.
Broad and Windsor Beans ought only
to be eaten by those who have out-door
exercise.
Dried Peas or Beans are very nutri-
tive, but slow of digestion.
Watercress or Garden Mustard stimu-
lates the stomach and promotes appe-
tite.
Lettuce, if found easy of digestion,
with a little salt, ia suitable to the sto-
mach, and may be eaten, as in the north,
with sugar and vinegar, or, as dressed
on the continent, with vinegar, mustard,
and oil. It is best when young and
quickly grown, as its narcotic principle
is not so great as when old, and its
fibres being tender, digestion is more
easy.
Celery ought to be eaten when young
and tender, and is more easily digested
when boiled.
Radishes are only good when young
and scraped.
Leeks and Onions do not agree with
weak stomachs ; they are valuable in-
cold and humid atmospheres, and where
the diet is meagre, as on the Continent,
and among labourers whose wages do
not afford a nourishing diet. They
are conducive to health. A little parsley
takes off the disagreeable odour of the
breath arising from their being eaten.
Cucumbers. Persons having a bad
digestion ought never to eat this watery
and cooling vegetable. Vinegar and
salt and pepper are condiments that
should always be used \\ ith it.
The French convert vegetables of all
kinds into wholesome and somewhat
nutritious soups, which, by the addition
of a little spice and flavouring, have
become favourite dishes with all classes.
Sugar is highly nutritious, adding to
the fatty tissue of the body, but is not
easy of digestion.
Honey seldom disagrees with the sto-
mach ; it ought not to be quite freed
from the wax of the comb, when used
as an article of diet ; it is greatly laxa-
tive.
Treacle, though like most high.lv SA<>-
charine bodies, ir-ita*iv.< u ori* aigeeciva
sjefrcrin.., IA prcierable to sugar, and at
the same time has laxative properties.
Olive Oil, like butter, is slow of diges-
tion ; from continental nations eating
less frequently than we do, and conse-
quently there being many hours for the
digestion of food, it may be found useful
in giving employment to the stomach.
Vinegar is apt to derange the func-
tions of digestion ; 'yet, where the food
is of an oily nature, or not fresh, it
aids digestion, and prevents bad effects ;
this is especially the case on a voyage
where salt meat is often eaten.
Salt is imperatively required with
166
DIET, AND THE DIGESTIBILITY OF FOOD.
our food, but ought to be taken with
due regard to moderation.
Spices are stimulants to digestion ;
but if used to excess, tni.l to weaken
and impair the action of the stomach.
Pic/els are often valuable as stimu-
lants and preventives of putrefaction ;
but when indulged in as mere provoca-
tives to the appetite, too often cause
the passage of the food before digestion
has been completed.
Tea exercises a peculiar influence over
tho nervous system, hence tea is em-
ployed as a drink by those who wish to
remain watching or studying at night.
Strong green tea, taken in large quan-
tities, acts upon some as a narcotic, but
weak tea rarely disagrees with the in-
valid, and is admissible and refreshing
in a variety of diseases, especially those
of a feverish or inflammatory tendency.
A grain or two of carbonate of soda
put into the tea-pot with the tea, will
greatly aid in extracting its strength
and flavour. The water must boil
before it is poured on to the tea, and
only a small quantity should be poured
on at first.
Coffee is a tonic and stimulating beve-
rage of a wholesome character, but not
so good for the invalid as tea ; this is
used as an anti-narcotic by those who
study at night, and is given largely to
patients after poisoning by opium and
other powerful narcotics.
Cho olate is very nourishing, but, on
account of the oil which enters into its
composition, it is difficult of digestion,
and apt to disagree with delicate
persons.
Cocoa is less oily, and being a mild
astringent, is adapted to persons with
relaxed bowels.
Fermented Liquors, such as ale, por-
ter, and beer, commonly known as fer-
mented decoctions of malt and hops,
deserve a slight notice. Beer differs
fro in wine in containing less spirit, and
more nutritive matter; therefore, when
used in moderation, it may be considered
wholesome, proving a refreshing drink,
and an agreeable and valuable stimulus
and support to those who have to un-
di;rtro much bodily fatigue.
Wine. It cannot be denied that
more perfect health is maintained with-
out than with the use of this liquid;
nevertheless, a moderate enjoyment of
wiue is not injurious to those who take
much open-air exercise.
Ardent Spirit*. The injurious effects
of spirits we be^ most emphatically to
s upon the reader, as in warm
climates, and in most countries
visited by a voyager or emigrant, he
meets only with newly-manufactured
spirits, which prove most baneful to
the English constitution, producing a
long train of diseases. The most imme-
diate consequences are felt in the
bowels, dysentery being prevalent, and
often fatal to those who give way to the
degrading bestiality of over-indulgence
in Australia. The incautious use of
ardent spirits may produce evil conse-
quences to others, not habitual drunk-
ards. Of the havoc created by the new
rum of the United States, all have read,
and lamented over the weakness and
depravity of human nature. Insanity
is another disease that those who indulge
in spirituous liquors are liable to.
Dram-drinkers suffer from liver com-
plaint, loss of appetite, and fatal disease
of the stomach ; they become thin,
wasted, and emaciated. Emigrants, by
indulging in ardent spirits, bring upon
themselves ruin in body, mind, and
fortune. Dr. Prout says that, " with
regard to the use of stimulating fluids
during meals, it may be laid down as a
rule, that the stomach, requiring their
aid to enable it to do its duty, is in a
state of disease, or certainly not a natu-
ral state ; for the moment such fluids
entor n stomach only slightly debiM-
tated, they act as ferments, and are not
only converted into acids themselves,
but dispose everything else to un
similar changes," thus accounting for
diarrhoea, dysentery, &c. The same
eminent physician observes, with regard
to the use of tobacco, that he con
it most deleterious in its effects upon
the organs of digestion and nourish-
ment.
A DIVINE potency presides in human
affairs, and is wont often to shut great
things within small. Raphael's Tomb.
INCREASE OF HEAT IN SUMMER.
167
INCREASE OF HEAT IN SUMMER.
SUMMER may be said to be the season
of growth, as spring is of reproduction.
Those organised existences, which burst
into life in the latter season, are either
brought to maturity, or, at least, invi-
gorated and expanded, in the former ;
and, in both seasons, the peculiar cha-
racter of the weather is most wisely
adapted for the intended object. The
state of the atmosphere, during the
progress of the summer months, pre-
sents itself as an appropriate subject of
consideration, in entering on the study
of this season.
The sun is now approaching the
northern tropic, having, in the month
of March, passed from the south to the
north of the equator. He is rising high
in the heaveus, and thus pouring his
rays more directly on this part of the
earth, which, according to a principle
already explained, causes his influence
to be more powerful ; and what much
adds to this influence, is the greater
length of time in which he remains
above the horizon. In the depth of
winter we enjoyed his presence little
more than seven hours out of the
twenty-four. In the beginning of sum-
mer this period is increased to upwards
of fifteen hours ; and in the middle of
it he daily lingers with us two hours
longer still. There is thus not only a
great direct increase, but a great accu-
mulation of heat. The mode in which
this effect is produced may be shortly
mentioned. The rays of the sun, or
whatever the influence may be which
generates the heat, in passing through
a perfectly transparent medium, do not
increase the temperature of that medium.
They seem to require resistance to pro-
duce this effect. It is not, therefore,
till they reach the earth, that their
power is veiy sensibly exerted. In
striking upon the opaque surface of our
globe, they give out their qualities.
Light and warmth are produced and
reflected. The earth and the atmo-
sphere are thus both subjected to their
influence. These become heated, the
one by conduction, the other by reflec-
tion. Now, it is obvious that while the
intensity must be in proportion to the
directness with which the globe is struck
by the sun's rays, the accumulation
must be in proportion to the length of
time during which the influence con-
tinues. Hence, there is a double cause
for the summer's heat, the height to
which the luminary rises in the heavens,
and the length of the day compared
with the night. These causes operate
in an increasing ratio. Day after day
the accumulated heat receives fresh
accessions. Every time the sun's influ-
ence is repeated it penetrates deeper
below the surface, and is more intensely
reflected into the already heated atmo-
sphere. This effect continues even after
the direct solar heat has begun to be
diminished ; and it is not till several
weeks after the sun has begun to take
a retrograde motion, that the tempera-
ture is at its maximum. In June the
sun reaches his greatest height, and
begins to decline, but the heat continues
to increase till the middle or end of
July.
But there are various circumstances
besides warmth, which constitute sum-
mer weather. The mechanism of the
atmosphere is very complicated, and the
adjustments which it requires are ex-
ceedingly nice, and, considering merely
the nature of the powers employed, we
may well add, hazardous. Any change
in the relative proportion of one of the
principles is calculated to produce a
powerful effect on all the rest ; and were
there not a regulating power of consum-
mate wisdom, it might be expected that
the balance would be overset, and that
the most disastrous consequences would
ensue. Let us look for a moment at
the constituents of the atmosphere, and
this will become apparent. The air,
which forms the chief part of the
atmosphere, is composed of two sub-
stances, held together merely by mecha-
nical admixture, which are of very
different properties, and which require
to continue unite'd in the precise pro-
portion they actually bear to each other,
in order to be capable of sustaining
animal and vegetable life. Were that
proportion destroyed even in a slight
degree, the air we breathe would be
168
INCREASE OF HEAT IN SUMMER.
instantly converted into a deadly poison.
X >\v. it is u't'll worthy of remark, that,
although in the functions both of animal
and vegetable life, and in the process of
combustion, a great and apparently
unequal consumption of these two
substances takes place, the proportion
between them is always maintained, and
that notwithstanding any difference of
temperature. Heat expands, and cold
contracts them ; but they are not thus
disunited, or in any way disturbed in
their proportions. On the contrary, it
is probably in some degree owing to the
alternations ofheatand cold, which keep
up a constant motion in this wonderful
fluid, that the necessary balance is
maintained.
Another ingredient in the atmosphere
is moisture. T his is very sensibly acted
on by heat. It is the principle of heat
which evaporates the moisture from the
earth, and causes it to mix with the air,
and to float in it, sometimes as an invi-
sible fluid, sometimes in the form of
clouds, and which at other times causes
it to be precipitated in the form of rain.
Now, the remarkable circumstance is,
that although heat is the agent in these
operations, the change of temperature
does not so affect the process as to cause
the operations to cease, or very mate-
rially to disturb them. Evaporation
goes on both at a low and a high tem-
perature, and in both states clouds are
formed and rain falls. This is owing to
a very peculiar provision, obviously
imposed by consummate wisdom. The
air is made capable of containing vapour
in a certain proportion to its tempera-
ture ; and it is not till it be saturated
that the evaporation from the surface
of water ceases, or that deposition takes
place. The temperature of the air in
winter does not, indeed, admit of the
same quantity being held in solution as
in summer : but up to a certain point
it is equally capable of sustaining it in
the one case as in the other. Evapora-
tion, therefore, takes place in very cold
weather, even from ice and snow ; and
the water thus infused into the air is
carried up into the higher regions, till
it reaches the point where the tempera-
ture is such as to correspond with the
quantity of moisture. Precisely the
same process takes place in summer,
with this difference, that the evaporation;
is much more abundant, and the air,
owing to it sincreased temperature, is
capable of containing a far greater quan-
tity in solution. Again ; the point of
deposition is regulated by a similar law,
with a similar difference. Deposition
does not take place either in winter or
summer, till the air is more than satu-
rated; but this effect is produced at
very different temperatures, according
to the quantity actually held in solution,
so that a veiy slight degree of cld will
form clouds and cause rain in summer,
compared with what is necessary to
occasion the same phenomena in winter.
Hence the processes of evaporation and
deposition are made, by this very pecu-
liar law, always to bear a relation to
the actual temperature of the season ;
and such a balance is kept up between
these processes, as is admirably suited
to the wants of vegetable and animal
life.
I may add to all this the properties
of the atmosphere, by means of which
it is made the vehicle of light and sound,
and the means of respiration. The
changes .which the air undergoes by the
operation of heat and cold, might easily
be supposed, and might even perhaps,
reasoning without the aid of experience,
be expected to produce a material alter-
ation on such properties. But although
these changes are so considerable in
different seasons, and in different cli-
mates, we do not find that the laws
either of vision or of acoustics are in
any material degree affected by them,
or that the action of the lungs, either
in man or the lower animals, is impeded
or deranged.
In attending to the complicated nature
of the atmosphere, and the various im-
portant functions it has to perform, and
in considering the diversified modifica-
tions it must necessarily undergo by
the alteration of its temperature, both
in the various latitudes of the globe,
and in the different seasons of the year,
it does seem impossible to doubt that
the uniformity of its properties, and of
its salutary influences under all these
BEAUTY.
169
modifications, has been provided for by
what Whewell, considering that subject
in a more extended view, justly calls
" a most refined, far-seeing, and far-
ruling contrivance." So many opposing
forces, and the mingling of such subtle
and fearfully active elements, appear in
the most quiescent state to require
amazing prospective skill for their re-
gulation and control ; and when we
find them, even under the influence of
extensive changes, still harmoniously
combining their powers for the general
good, we cannot but perceive that all
this could not be effected but by the
same Paternal hand which originally
called their powers into action. Sacred
Philosophy of the Seasons.
BEAUTY.
BEAUTY is a principle, either in nature
or art, that gratifies the senses, and
leaves upon the mind the impression of
a certain grace and proportionate fitness
of parts. There is, throughout the
material universe, a congruity in all the
workings of nature, that gives to our
observations a peculiar interest; and
that, too, in proportion to the vigour of
our investigations.
We may admire a rock, because it is
one of the features that gives beauty
and variety to the landscape; we may
have our wonder and interest excited,
as we reflect that it may be "as ancient
as the sun ;" and we pause in contem-
plation of that Power, whose care has
imbued it with principles that defy the
changes of time, and the war of the
elements.
But a new impetus is given to our
curiosity, and fresh ardour to our in-
quiries to learn more of nature, when
we perceive that which at a distance
appeared to be a homogeneous mass of
stone, is bound together by an aggrega-
tion of particles, each differing from the
other, in hue, consistence, and composi-
tion, yet all together forming a grand
whole.
Take also the wing of a butterfly ;
the eye is delighted with the variety
and brilliancy of the hues that are
depicted on it ; and yet how many, as
the bright insect flutters across their
pathway, stop to think of the exquisite
skill displayed in the construction of
that wing ? That which to the eye of
the attentive observer appears like a soft
down, if attentively examined by the
aid of a microscope, will prove to be
an infinity of delicately-constructed
feathers.
Flowers, too, the wild wood flowers
that greet us by thousands in our daily
walks, are teeming with beauty. " They
have tales of the joyous woods to tell"
by the couch of suffering, and they bear
the message of hope to the desponding.
" Flowers ! ye form the bridal chaplet,
and ye go down to the grave with the
coffined ones."
At a ball given at Nottingham, in
honour of Lord Howe's victory, on the
1st of June, 1794, amidst the glare of
diamonds, pearls, and plumes, there
was one lady whose head-dress consisted
of a simple wreath formed from a
branch of natural oak. On the following
morning after breakfast, the Countess
Howe, in the presence of the company,
planted three of the acorns taken from
the wreath ; they germinated, and at
this day, form three handsome trees.
While thus evincing her taste, the lady
could not have found a more efficient
method of perpetuating her memory.
The idea of beauty is universal ;
wherever there are hearts and minds
that can be influenced by external
causes; wherever there are ears that
hear with delight the varied minstrelsies
of nature, or eyes that can behold with
pleasure the pictures from a master's
hand that are continually free to the
view that can read with interest the
volume ever open to the student of
nature, beauty has there an empire;
and in this perception of the beautiful,
not only is the natural taste gratified,
but it bestows a graceful refinement
upon its votary; it ennobles the intellect,
and lends a heightened lustre to the
moral qualities.
No less beneficial are its effects upon
nations. Look at Italy and Greece.
" Their glorious day is o'er." The
orators whose eloquence could move a
nation are heard to speak no more ;
the hand that could give life to marble
170
DIETETIC USE OF WATER.
is palsied by death ; and the bard " who
struck with magic art the lyiv." long
ago sang his last song. But ;u
forgotten ? No ! their laurels are
green as on the day when awarded
amidst the applause of the multitude.
The sun of political power is gone
down amid clouds of gloom, yet
" Pilgrim's pensive, but unwearied throne,
Haii the bright clime of battle and ni
For art has there reared to herself a
monument, that still commands the
admiration of the civilised world, and
has erected a shrine at which genius
still delights to pay homage.
DIETETIC USE OF WATER.
WATER is an inestimable benefit to
health, and as it neither stimulates the
appetite to excess, nor can produce any
perceptible effect on the nerves, it is
admirably adapted for diet, and we
ought, perhaps by right, to make it our
fcole beverage, as it was with the first of
mankind, and still is with all the
animals. Pure water dissolves the food
more, and more readily, than that which
is saturated, and likewise absorbs better
the acrimony from the juices that is
to say, it is more nutritious, and pre-
serves the juices in their natural purity ;
it penetrates more easily through the
smallest vessels, and removes obstruc-
tions in them ; nay, when taken in large
quantity, it is a very potent antidote to
poison.
From these main properties of water
may be deduced all the surprising cures
which have been effected by it in so
many diseases, and which we shall here
pass over altogether. But as to the
dietetic effect of water, we shall recom-
mend it to our readers for their ordinary
leverage on three conditions.
The first is, that they drink it as pure
as possible. Impure water is of itself
impregnated with foreign matters which
may prove prejudicial to health. Hence
it loses all the advantages which we
have in the preceding remarks ascribed
to water ; and it would in this case be
much better to drink beer, or any other
auch beverage, that is saturated with
nutritive particles, rather than impure
We must leave the stomachs of
camels to answer for the preference
1 >y them to muddy water ; for we
are assured l>y Shaw, that these animals
stir it u]) with their feet, and render it
turbid before they drink. The human
economy requires, on the contrary, a
pure bever.i
The signs of good water are, that it
easily becomes hot and c,ld ; that in
summer it is cool, and in winter slightly
lukewarm ; that a drop dried on a clean
cloth leaves not the faintest stain
behind ; and that it has neither taste
nor smell. It is also a sign of good
water, that when it is boiled it becomes
hot, and afterwards grows cold, sooner
than any other water. But this sign is
far more fallible than the evidence of
the quality of water obtained by feeling.
Singular as this may sound, it is very
possible to distinguish the properties of
water by means of this sense. A soft
or a hard water is synonymous with a
water the parts of which adhere slightly
or closely together. The slighter thoir
adhesion, the less they resist the feeling,
and the less sensible they are to the
hand, because they may be so much
the more easily separated. A gentleman
of our acquaintance has for many years
used two different sorts of water, which
are equally pure and limpid, the one for
drinking, and the other for washing his
hands and face. If his servant ever
happens to bring the wrong water for
washing, he instantly discover the mis-
take by the feeling. Our cooks and
washerwomen would be able to furnish
many other instances of the faculty of
discriminating the properties of water
by the touch, which would show that
this faculty depends more on the excite-
ment occasioned in the sensible parts
than on any other cause. Hard water,
for instance, makes the skin rough :
soft, on the contrary, renders it smooth.
The former cannot sufficiently soften
flesh or vegetables : the latter regularly
produces this effect. The difference of
the extraneous matters which change
the qualities of water, naturally makes
a different impression on the feeling;
and in this there is nothing that ought
to astonish a person of reflection.
The water of standing pools and wells
DIETETIC USE OP WATER.
171
is in general extremely impure, and is
accounted the worst of all. River-water
differs according to the variety of the
soil over which it runs, and the changes
of the weather ; but though commonly
drank, it is never pure. Of all impure
river- waters, those which abound in
earthy particles alone are the least in-
jurious, because those particles are not
dissolved by the water. In Auvergne,
near the villages of St. Allier and Cler-
mont, there is a stream of a petrifying
quality, which constructs of itself large
bridges of stone, and yet it is the only
water drank by the inhabitants of those
places, and that without the slightest
inconvenience. If we consider that a
stony concretion is deposited in all our
kettles, we shall readily conceive that a
water which carries stone along with it
cannot be very pernicious to health,
since it is constantly drank by men and
animals. This stone in our kettles is
really a calcareous earth, which may be
dissolved by boiling in them vinegar,
or water mixed with a small quantity
of nitric acid ; and as the water deposits
it, and does not hold it in solution, it
can of course do us very little injury.
We cannot, therefore, imagine how the
celebrated Dr. Mead could believe that
water which leaves such a deposit in
culinary vessels may occasion a particular
disease, merely because Pliny has said
so ; though he was well acquainted with
the great difference between animal
calculi and more calcareous earth.
Next to well and river- water, both of
which are always impure, rain-water
follows in the scale of preference. It
is very impure, and a real vehicle for
all the pernicious matters that are con-
tinually floating in the atmosphere.
Snow-water is much purer. Snow is
formed of vapours which have been
frozen before they could collect into
drops. It is in the lower region of the air
that these drops, in falling, absorb most
of their impurities. The vap< >urs floating
in the upper atmosphere freeze before
they reach the mire of the lower. This
water is seldom to be had. That which
we would most strongly recommend for
drinking is a spring-water, which de-
Bcends from lofty hills, through flints
and pure sand, and rolls gently along
over a similar bed of rocks. Such
water leaves behind all its coarse impu-
rities in the sand ; it is a purified rain
and snow-water, a fluid crystal, a real
cordial, and the best beverage for per-
sons in good health.
The second condition which I attach
to water-driaking is, that such persons
only choose it for their constant bever-
age, to whom warming, strengthening,
and nutritive liquids are hurtful ; and
that if they have not been in the habit
of drinking it from their youth, they
use some caution in accustoming them-
selves to it. Many suffer themselves to
be led away by the panegyrists of water,
without considering that even good
changes in the system of life, when a
person is not accustomed to them, and
when they are abruptly or unseasonably
adopted, may be productive of great
mischief. Hence arise the silly com-
plaints that water-drinking is dangerous,
pernicious, nay, fatal, and the inappli-
cable cases quoted from experience.
Those who have been in the habit of
drinking water from their youth, cannot
choose a more wholesome beverage, if
the water be but pure. Many nations,
and many thousand more species of
animals, have lived well upon it. But
for an old infirm person, a living skele-
ton, with a weak stomach that can
scarcely bear solid food, to exchange
nourishing beer or strengthening wine
with the water of his brook, would be
the height of absurdity. Let such
adhere to their accustomed drink.
Water is an excellent beverage, but beer
too is good ; it is also water, more
nutritious than the pure element, and
therefore more suitable for the persons
to whom we allude.
The third condition which we require
from water-drinkers is, that they take
cold and hot water for their habitual
beverage. We mean not to prohibit
their boiling or distilling it, if they
suspect it to be impure. Boyle drank
nothing but such distilled water, and
most delicate people of good taste in
Italy still do the same. It mus not,
however, be drank warm, but cold,
The ancients, it is true, drank hot
172
HINTS ITOX CONDUCT.
water. Various passages in Plautus
and other ancient writers clearly prove
that so early as their times i
customary to drink the water of warm
springs : and there arc i'lv.pient in-
stances of com mon water warmed. Thus,
in Dio, we find Drusus, the son of
Tiberius, commanding warm water to
be given to the people, who asked for
water to quench their thirst at a fire
which had broken out. Seneca says
{De Ini, ii. 15), that a man ought not
to fly into a passion with his servant if
he should not bring his water for drink-
ing so quickly as he could wish ; or if
it should not be hot enough, but only
lukewarm ; and A man says the same
thing, but more circumstantially. The
drinking of hot water must of course
have been a common practice with the
Greeks and Romans ; but it should be
observed, that even in their times it was
held to be an effeminate indulgence of
voluptuaries. Stratonicus calls the
Rhodians " pampered voluptuaries, who
drink warm liquors." Claudius, when
he attempted to improve the morals of
the people, and to check luxury at
Rome, prohibited the public sale of hot
water. When, on the death of the sister
*>f the Emperor Caius, he had enjoined
mourning in the city of Rome on ac-
count of this exceedingly painful loss,
he put to death a man who had sold hot
water, for this very reason, because he
had thereby given occasion for volup-
tuousness, and profaned the mourning.
So dangerous an indulgence was the
drinking of hot water considered, that
the trade of water-sellers was interdicted
by the censors. Some writers publicly
satirised this species of voluptuousness.
Ammianus complains that in his time
eervants were not punished for great
vices and misdemeanours, but that three
hundred stripes were given them, if
they brought the warm beverage either
liot promptly enough or not hot enough :
and from that passage of Martial's in
which he says, that, at entertainments,
the host was accustomed to pay parti-
cular attention, that during the feast
there should be an abundant supply of
hot water, it appears that this beverage
was an essential requisite at the tabl".s
of the luxurious.
1 1 1 XTS UPON CONDUCT. *
A KING says "My wife." There are
shopkeepers who sny "My spouse.!
These fellows have always set up for
giving lessons to governments. As to
the shopkeeper's spouse, she talks of
"Our young lady," thereby giving a
lesson to the inhabitants of the Fau-
bourg Saint Germain, who simply say
" My daughter."
Naturalness is an essential item in
good-breeding. Hear what La Bruyere
thinks on this important question.
" Some young people do not sufficiently
understand the advantages of natural
charms, and how much they would
gain by trusting to them entirely. They
weaken these gifts of heaven, so rare
and fragile, by affected manners and an
awkward imitation. Their tones and
their gait are borrowed ; they study
their attitudes before the glass until
they have lost all trace of' natural
manner, and, with all their pains, they
please but little."
Without being vain, a young giri
should be careful of her person.
Nothing is more repugnant to good
taste, than an air of neglect in the toi-
let and deportment of a woman. The
hair and head-dress especially, require
care and neatness.
Bewai-e of imitating those people who
never know what to do with their
bodies, and can never keep their hands
quiet.
Swinging on one's chair is extremely
ill-bred.
The eye-glass stuck in the eye, de-
notes either the dandy, the clerk, or the
student. This custom is in no way dis-
agreeable to the passers-by, but it has
an air of ill-breeding and impertinence.
To follow a lady in the street, and
turn the head to stare at her, is still
more impertinent than to do so in a
promenade, especially in Paris, for rea-
sons which cannot be further adverted
to in a book intended for young persons
of both sexes.
Familiarity with servants should be
! avoided, but they should always be ad-
dressed with civility.
* From Parisian Etiquette. J. F. Sbaw.
DOMESTIC EDUCATION.
173
Noble families do not encourage
children to use the pronoun thou, in
speaking to their parents. In defiance
of fashion we venture to blame this
custom. The thou and you have nothing
to do with filial respect.
Some people, in speaking to you, have
a silly habit of passing their hand
through the hair, or stroking the mous-
tache ; some even carry a pocket comb,
which they produce on all occasions, for
dressing the beard : others bite their
nails, play with their watch-key, or jingle
the money in their pocket ; all these
offences against propriety denote a want
of good breeding.
Excess in perfume should be avoided,
lest the suspicion be excited that you
deal in the odours that you exhale.
The name of the person you are ad-
dressing should not be added after
Monsieur and Madame.
Good sense has often more to do
than education in making a polished
man.
One of the essential qualities of good-
breeding, is deserving general esteem by
one's deportment.
In little social games, a malicious girl
will sometimes amuse herself by im-
posing on a companion a forfeit that
will make her ridiculous; this shows a
bad disposition of mind as well as ill-
breeding.
If, in offering a lady a gift, you select
one that is very costly, you may be
guilty of an impertinence.
To speak in society of private matters,
is extremely improper.
Turning up the sleeves on sitting
down to table, as some people do, is
gross in the highest degree.
A habit of swearing constantly, marks
a vulgar man.
Calling to the waiter with a loud
voice in a public-room, and striking
violently on the table, are indicative of
extreme ignorance.
A snuff-taker should not take out his
box at table; his neighbour will be
little pleased at receiving the stray
grains in his plate.
Indiscreet questions are impertinent,
as well as unseasonable harangues.
You should be ready to act the
knight, if a lady in your company is at-
tacked. If she give offence, and that
without reason, your office is only that
of mediator. You should even ask
pardon for your companion. A bully
would act otherwise ; but it is absurd
to get into a quarrel for the sake of
maintaining that a person who is inso-
lent has a right to be so, and that be-
cause he is of your company. You will
show yourself, in acting thus, as ill-bred
as he.
If, in doing an obliging act, you make
people feel the obligation, you de-
prive it entirely of its value.
A young girl should never write to
her lover.
To fill a glass to the brim is uu-
genteel.
If you speak of a friend to a person
who is not intimate with both him and
you, preface his name with the word
Monsieur. It would not be proper to-
say to a servant or a porter " Is Julius
here ?" You must say " Is Mr. Julius
here ?"
A servant who understands propriety,
always speaks of his superiors in the
third person.
When you receive a present, it would
be an offence to the donor to dismiss
the porter without a gratuity.
If the honour of a woman be attacked
you should always defend it. It is not
allowable for any one to assail the re-
putation of a lady, even if she be open
to censure.
In walking with a lady in the street,,
leave her the inner side of the pave-
ment. If you meet friends in a narrow
passage, or on a footpath, be careful not
to block up the way. It would be very
impolite to inconvenience the passers-
by in this manner.
DOMESTIC 'EDUCATION.
THE character of most individuals is
almost wholly to be traced to domestic
education. Our first sensations neces-
sarily produce the greatest effects ; and
17*
DOMESTIC EDUCATION.
the power with which they act in
susceptibility of the teinli-r mind is
evidenced in the charm of d<
ties, local attachments, and patriotic
feelings. The earliest succession of
ideas to which we are accustomed form
our primary habits, whether for good
' or evil ; and these are seldom or never
eradicated. But what cau be learned
at the house of a drunkard and a slut,
whose improvident union was hastened
by sin, who are degraded in body and
mind: where disorder, poverty, and
strife, are ever in the ascendant ? Or,
how can dirty and neglected children,
associated with none superior to them-
selves, acquire a single beneficial habit,
or experience a single train of whole-
some ideas, in the absence of parental
care, in their desolate homes ? What
domestic, what local attachments, what
patriotic, what generous or virtuous
sentiments, can be expected in such
quarters ?
Everything which disconnects our
minds and being from our parental
hearth, must needs have a debasing and
pestilential influence ; but what can be
done to ameliorate the condition of such
helpless ones? Even amongst the
higher classes, children are left too much
to themselves, or with servants ; but
here the evil seems to be unmixed with
a single redeeming feature. "The
beaten track of customary vice" is
followed without scruple. "Parents,
be virtuous," said the heathen satirist ;
" if, on no other account, at least for the
sake of your children." Our infant
schools may effect some good ; but at
best they are imperfect substitutes for
what parents ought to be zealously ac-
complishing for themselves, and none
but parents can accomplish. Home
should be rendered the happiest of all
the scenes of our childhood, endeared
to us by a thousand lovely associations
cherished in strong memory on account
of the noble and generous feelings there
excited. Then, its remembrance would
hang like an enchanted spell upon the
tempted youth ; and, if ho fell, ever
whisper in the ear of the wayward pro-
digal a loving invitation to return and
be blessed again
" The child is father of the man ;
And I could \vj.sh my days to be
Hound each i.. iach by natural piety.
" The thought of our past years in me both
breed
Perpetual benediction : not indeed
For that which is nio.,t worthy to bn blest
Delight, and liberty, the simple crcrd
Of childhood, whether bu
With new fledged hope still fluttering in his
breast
" But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Are yet a master-light of all our seeinp,
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to
make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal silence ; truths that wake,
To perish never :
Which neither listlessness nor mad endeavour
Nor man nor boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy !
" Hence, in a season of calm weather.
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea,
Which brought us hither ;
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling ever-
more." WOBDSWOBTH.
But a painful illustration of the influ-
ence of early association is afforded by
the history of Lord Bacon, The royal
presence and favour, which he attracted
as a quick and interesting child, seem
to have raised ambitious hopes in his
aspiring mind before his judgment
could control them. The love of
state, and pomp, and worldly grandeur,
or the service of royalty, thus became,
as he calls it, his " first love," his
strongest passion, which all his delight
in philosophical meditation and studi-
ous retirement, and all the natural im-
pulse of his powerful genius, could not
subdue. He was trained to be a
courtier almost from his cradle; and
hence arose all those mean and shuf-
fling arts and evasions, which have so
fearfully sullied his glory, as they cor-
rupted his noble disposition, and even
dimmed the lustre of his eye.
DOMESTIC EDUCATION.
175
It is obvious that correctness and
elegance of language will be most
easily acquired, when those with whom
we have most constantly associated in
early years have possessed these accom-
plishments, and thus formed our ear
and sharpened our tongue. The Roman
orator strikingly illustrates this, by the
case of Curio. He was very illiterate,
and even ignoi-ant : he thought slowly ;
his arrangement was bad; his memory
most defective ; and his action so awk-
ward, as he rolled himself violently
about, as to excite general ridicule. His
education, as a neglected ward, had
been of the most wretched character ;
and yet, so great was the force of do-
mestic association, that his language
was fine, and his fluency of expression
admirable. (Cic. de Brut., sec. 59.)
If such a happy talent was thus ac-
quired without effort, what might not
have been accomplished by well-directed
labour ! We have been recently in-
formed that Sir Robert Peel derived his
fluency and eloquence from the manner
in which his father had trained him up
from early boyhood, to speak from a
table on any subject suggested to him.
Applause stimulated his efforts, how-
ever imperfect at first, until the habit
was acquired, which was afterwards so
admirably matured. Such an anecdote
is, at least, strikingly illustrative of the
success which might be reasonably ex-
pected to crown similar persevering
efforts.
Cicero beautifully says : " We have
read the letters of Cornelia, the mother
of the Gracchi. It is evident that her
sons were nursed (educates) in her dis-
course more than in her lap." Women,
indeed, of energy, piety, or talent, have
exercised a prodigious influence over
their children. It is said that these
commonly resemble their mothers in
their intellectual qualities; and that
this fact accounts for the notorious de-
ficiency in the sons of Tully and Lord
Chesterfield. Cleobulus vainly urged
his countrymen to educate their
females ; the few who followed his ad-
vice witnessed the beneficial result.
We cannot be surprised at the love of
pleasure, frivolity, and external embel-
lishment which distinguishes the mass ;
it is the vacancy of untutored minds
which is thus manifested; they feed
upon husks, because no solid nourish-
ment has been ever provided for them.
In order to arrest the evil, we must
direct them to higher and nobler ob-
jects: we must educate them thorough-
ly, and with earnest diligence. They
will subsequently mould the character
of their sons, and impart to genius and
to virtue a softness and delicacy which
can be found nowhere else. Their love
and tenderness will render their influ-
ence permanent and paramount, as " in
sweet and kindly tones and words, they
direct the opening mind to nature, to
beauty, to acts of benevolence, to deeds
of virtue, and to the source of all good
to God Himself."
The great defect of domestic training
in general is the habit of cherishing
pride and vanity in children, and of al-
lowing them to have their own way in
everything. It is forgotten that a spoilt
child must pass into a selfish and op-
posing world, and that the contradic-
tions and trials to which he must then
be exposed so unexpectedly, may render
his existence a sore burthen to himself.
The hot-house plant sickens and dies in
our harsh climate when protection is
withdrawn.
If our early trains of ideas create a
habit of over-valuing any pleasure or
pain, too much will be sacrificed during
life to obtain the one or avoid the other.
We shall be in prodigious haste to
realise a pleasure as soon as desired, or
to extinguish a pain as soon as felt. But
these results can only be attained by a
series of steps, frequently numerous
ones; and, if impatience hurry us to
overlook these, we may sacrifice more
than we gain. It is desirable that
parents should follow the order of na-
ture, and never thwart it, and thus con-
tribute to form correct associations in
the minds of their children, as to the
connexion between pain and sin on the
one hand, and pleasure and good con-
duct on the other, and as to the import-
ance of the constant exercise of patience
and self-control.
176
SAVING MONEY, ETC.
SAVING, SPENDING, GIVING, TAKING,
LENDING, BORROWING, AND BEQUEATH-
ING MONEY.*
IT needs no demonstration that the
saving of money is as essential as get-
ting, for the attainment of a permanent
independence. This is one of those
self evident truths that meet with a
ready and a universal assent. It is
even a truism that it is as physically
impossible for money to accumulate
without saving, as for a leaking vessel
to hold water. There is no income so
large that cannot be got rid of, and no
sum so small that an able-bodied, in-
dustrious man may earn in this country,
that will not suffice, so long as he
remain single, to lay the foundation of
an independent fortune. A young man
who can earn a dollar a day has but to
resolve to save a portion of what he
earns towards capital to start business
upon, and the difficulty is already half
overcome. A capital acquired in this way
is generally lasting, while capital ac-
quired by loan or inheritance is too fre-
quently lost. The industry and efforts,
used in acquiring capital train to habits
of business, which, as we have before
shown, are necessary to success, and
without which training, business is
most apt to fail. In looking abroad,
too, we generally see those who com-
mence life by their own personal efforts,
and by such efforts start themselves in the
World, are the most successful.
But a man has only the right to
commence the work of saving after all
his just debts are paid; and all his
debts are not merely those of which the
evidence is a note, or a bond, or a
mortgage, or a book account. If he is
the head of a family, he is under ob-
ligations to his family which he must
discharge. As a member of society, and
one of the great family of man, he owes
debts of brotherhood to those whom
misfortune has visited, of which he
must pay his proportion. Charity is
*From " Money : how to Get, how to Keep,
and how to Use it." In connexion with this
article we recommend the perusal of " How
a Penny became a Thousand Pounds," price
IB., just published by Houlston and Stone-
not merely a politic virtue, in the
exercise of which he may reap an
nward satisfaction, but in the neglect
of which he incurs no guilt. Charity
is a solemn debt, which no one can fail
bo pay without moral bankruptcy. It
is a debt so binding in its nature that
physical impossibility to have the
means to discharge it is the only
sufficient excuse.
The totally different rules and
principles that apply to the getting and
to the using of money, are the rock on
which theorists split. The distinction
is one that they do not seem to perceive
clearly. They pour out the vials of
their indignation on the getting of
money, when it should fall upon the
improper use of money. They at one
time contend that a man should not
devote more of his time to the acqui-
sition of property than will barely
suffice for his wants, and then argue for
an amount of charity that he could not
possibly be able to give without unre-
mitted industry.
But there is a question of equal diffi-
culty, and perhaps of greater practical
importance, which honest men encoun-
ter, and that is, how can contributions
be given so as to effect the greatest
good This is best left to every indi-
vidual's discretion, every one remember-
ing that nothing good can be achieved
without labour and attention, and that
he must not trust to others nor alto-
gether to rules which are only intended
to help discretion, not to be its sub-
stitute, as a means of superseding the
exercise of these qualities even in the
distribution of charity. One fact seems
fully established by large experience,
which is, that fixed sums appropriated
to any particular species of charity
such as to maintain the poor, to feed
and clothe orphans, to rear foundlings,
&c., generate the evils they are intended
to cure. Men are made careless of
providing for the future when they
know that they will always be able to
find a refuge in the workhouse, or they
will marry regardless of what is to be-
come of their offspring, if other persons
have made provision for rearing and
educating foundlings and orphans. The
SAVING MONEY, ETC.
177
principle that each pair of parents are
morally bound to provide for the wel-
fare of their offspring is set at nought
by such a provision. The task is taken
out of their hands when charitable
establishments for such a purpose
become numerous. It ought to be
remembered, that though founded by
property bequeathed, all such institu-
tions are really maintained by the in-
dustry of each living generation, and
that, consequently, a great multitude of
charities have the double effect of
tempting individuals from the perform-
ance of their duties, and, at the same
time, of making the performance more
difficult. The tasks of the poor la-
bourer are increased in order that the
rich may appear generous, while his
moral instincts are misdirected. The
question, therefore, how men can apply
their charitable contributions in the
best manner must be left to the dis-
cretion of every individual ; but he is
bound to exercise discretion in giving,
as well as in getting and in saving.
There are many reasons for saving
when a man has the power and has
paid all his just debts. Every one is
liable to illness and misfortune. For
all the night cometh when no man can
work. Everywhere, and at all seasons,
there are rainy or stormy days, when
he who has made no provision for them
must be hungry or in want. A married
man may save, for the sake of his
family ; an unmarried man for the
sake of getting married. Children
cannot provide for themselves, and
though it does not seem prudent to
provide too well for children, for that
too often makes them idle and worth-
less to others and themselves, they are
all the better for receiving a good station
in the world and having a good out-
fit to begin with, which can, in general,
only be done by the saving of parents.
To perform a man's part well in life,
he must not always be under the goad
of necessity. He must to some/ extent,
plan his existence, or have it planned
for him, which is done when a youth
is bound an apprentice or enters a pro-
fession ; and he must, at the same time
whether it be in subordination to that
plan, or in subversion of it, when he
changes his pursuits, guide his conduct
by circumstances from day to day. In
society, immediate necessity arises
rather from the respect we have for the
opinions of one another than from
physical wants ; and a man who always
has his living to seek is thus depen-
dent on his fellows, and cannot plan his
existence for himself. He is the servant
of his brothers. It is plain, from the
money of the world being very small in
amount, compared to the property in
the world, and from the bulk of the
property in the world being annually
created and annually consumed, that
property is rather an immaterial than a
material or physical relation. Material
wealth cannot be saved with advantage ;
for iron rusts, provisions moulder, cloth
becomes a prey to the moth, buildings
fall swiftly to ruin unless carefully
looked after ; what is at all times really
saved is power power over other men
by whose labour the material wealth
saved is made profitable. Land, too,
supplies man with little but timber,
which is in his way till he has obtained
plenty of bread; or brambles, which
only excite additional industry, and
make more labour necessary to obtain
food. What men really save, therefore,
and bequeath, is power to obtain the
services of other men, represented by
the possession of land, houses, food,
clothing, money, &c. &c.
On this view, the saving which ends
in amassing a large fortune, another
name for accumulating power, is not
very desirable. In a public point of
view it is known to be of no advantage,
except as every kind of waste, destruc-
tion, and unnecessary consumption is to
be avoided, because what the saving
man does not consume, another does.
He puts his money out at interest he
lends all his spare produce, and those
who consume it pay him for the use or
the enjoyment. In a private point of
view saving means privation, self-denial,
or probably excessive and over-labour
in order to save. It means, therefore, a
refusal of natural and healthful enjoy-
ment, and is otherwise of no advantage
to the saving man. He cannot carry
178
SAVING MONEY, KTC.
hia riches with him, and in most
he leaves them to be squandered by his
heirs. Some persons form expectations
of getting his accumulated wealth, or
are bred up in the expectation -
ceiving it, and the expectation d<
exertion, encourages idleness and false
hopes, engenders the formation of bad
habits, and in the great majority of
cases renders the expectant an unhappy
man as long as he lives.
We see continually the eldest sons of
great judges, great physicians, great
generals, great admirals, and sometimes
of great merchants and manufacturers,
who pass an idle, worthless, and miser-
able existence, because their fathers
toiled and saved to make large fortunes
for them. Hope is the balm of life, the
stimulus to exertion, and it inflicts a
terrible injury on a youth, so to provide
for him as to leave him no rational
object of hope to excite generous ex-
ertions. A born king removed from all
competition, who has no hopes, and is
deprived of every rational motive of
existence, is a miserable man. No one
is more happy than he who is continu-
ally occupied by some honourable and
hopeful pursuit ; and as the bulk of
honourable pursuits have for their
object the getting money, as the almost
universal measure of and reward for
exertion ; so to enrich a youth as to
deprive him altogether of a natural and
rational motive for exertion, is to make
him in general a very miserable man.
Saving, therefore, to accumulate a large
fortune, in order to found a family, as it
is called, is not a good, but an evil
not a virtue, but a vice. One man
shortens his life by privations and
anxious toil, to shorten the life of ano-
ther by idleness and dissipation.
To obtain power over other men, and
exact services from them, has universally
and at all times been considered of
great advantage ; and slavery, with all
its concomitant and attendant horrors,
has been carried into effect for that
purpose, and for that purpose only. As
modern laws and institutions, particu-
larly all those concerning property, had
their origin in a state of society when
slavery prevailed the broad acres of
a feudal baron, carrying with them a
power to exact the labour or the pro-
perty of all the serfs on them ; aud this
power over land being the basis of our
>ncerniug property, it is a conside-
ration of some importance in saving,
not so to save as to perpetuate and
sti-engthen the slavery from evils still
existing. Great accumulations under
this aspect are merely great gatherings
of power in individual hands, over
other men. A parent saves to give
that power to his children ; if it be ex-
cessive it exposes them more or less to
the inconveniences which have always
attended on slavery. They are either
masters, like the eldest sons, or poor
and dependent like the younger, or like
the daughters. A man should not,
therefore, save so as to increase the
evil. The power he accumulates in the
hands of one, is power over his other
successors. To save under a legal dis-
pensation, which directs the accumula-
tion into the hands of one, is to make
him arrogant and careless, and to make
others submissive, dependent, and ob-
sequious. Saving, therefore, may be
injurious to affection and to morality.
The man who neglects the amenities
and kindlinesses of family life, or of the
friendly circle, merely to labour con-
tinually that he may heap up wealth,
saves by injurious means and for in-
jurious purposes.
The contrast to the power of one to
extort the labour of others is the free
exchange of mutual services. That is
the rule of modern society, as contra-
distinguished from the ancient rule,
and its power is extending ; it pervades
society more and more every day, and
will henceforward regulate the saving as
well as the getting money. We must
save as well as get, with the knowledge
present to our minds, that other men
are getting and saving, and we must
emulate one another in saving as well
as getting. We must not so save as to
interfere with the free exchange of ser-
vices : but as all large accumulations do
I interfere with that moderate saving
j which tends to an equal diffusion of
power, savings by the poor whenever
possible, that they may not be depcu-
SAVING MONEY, ETC.
179
dent, saving by the middle classes, that
they may divide and distribute the
large power of the very rich, is much to
be applauded. The classes who have
most-need of saving are the least able
to save. The most destitute are the
most dependent ; the most enthralled
can barely evist, and can save nothing.
Hence the condition of the lower orders
throughout Europe has been only very
little improved since the time when
serfdom was generally prevalent. The
improvement has been in escaping from
amongst them. From age to age they
have been able to save nothing; and
from age to age the master class, and
those who have gradually shared their
power, have saved and accumulated, and
have continued the poverty and serfage
of the multitude. Though some persons
of very high authority, and the present
Chancellor of the Exchequer, have said
that the rich classes become continually
richer, and the poor continually poorer ;
yet the fact is, that the very poor and
the very rich have proportionally de-
creased in numbers since the extinction
of serfdom, and a very numerous middle
class has grown up. It is now fast
increasing. Probably the future increase
in population will be chiefly of the
middle classes. All the new wealth
found in California and Australia is
obviously obtained by mere manual
labour, which in consequence, and in
consequence of a greater demand for
it, is everywhere becoming better re-
warded. Perhaps it will no longer be
very difficult for the great multitude to
save. It must be noticed, too, that
almost all manual labour is conjoined
with some kind of skill ; that every
labourer is to that extent a capitalist,
and skill being almost universally and
pretty equally diffused, wealth will be
so too. The companionship of skill
tends to ennoble and enrich labour, and
the process of converting a larger and
a larger proportion of society into
middle classes is now very conspicuous.
As less difficulty is found in obtaining
subsistence, as families are more easily
provided for, as the chances become
fewer that a man will fall into a condi-
tion of dependent serfage, the motives
for great accumulations, which formerly
existed, will be lessened, and power or
property be more equally diffused. As
the aristocratic distinctions of society
lessen, the motives cease for founding
aristocratic families ; and moderate, and
therefore enlightened, saving must take
the place of the selfish, unintelligent
hoarding which has always prevailed in
conjunction with rapacity, insecurity,
and fraud.
Of spending mney what can be said,
but that it should be something less
than a man's means, and in conformity
to his tastes? Every individual is so
different from every other, that it is a
very rare thing to find any two exactly
alike. This variety of form is accom-
panied by an equal variety of taste,
though the deference and respect we
have for one another tend to reduce all
to one common and mutual standard.
This becomes the measure of a man's
expenditure. His house, his dress, his
pursuits, are in conformity to social
usages, and to those of the class to which
he belongs. He must so regulate his
expenditure as not to sink below his
fellows, but emulously rise above them.
To command respect, is one great ob-
ject of every man's life ; and every
man, as the rule, clothes himself and
houses himself, which is something
visible to others, rather better and more
carefully ttun he habitually feeds him-
self. More than fortune health, com-
fort, and happiness are very generally
sacrificed to the opinion of the world.
Men buy show things, and go about to
show-places to keep up a fashionable ap-
pearance, while they deny themselves
and their families those comforts and
conveniences, though necessary to
health, which concern only the indi-
viduals, and which the world are never
called on to admire. " Let thy garment
be as costly as thy purse can buy "
excellent advice was founded on this
principle, when men were distinguished
by a luxury of dress, that is now lost in
a universal and comfortable plainness.
Still the di-ess of women is distin-
guished by its costliness, and very often
by its untidyness and uncomfortable-
ness, and much is sacrificed to appear-
180
SAVING MONEY, ETC.
ance in dress. To preserve in health
and strength all the members <>f a
family, the art and science of which
ought to be much more studied than
they are, should be the first principle of
all expenditure ; then to obtain com-
forts and ease, and then to command
respect by a good appearance. Frugality,
order, and method, which make the six-
pence of the prudent housewife of as
much value as the shilling of the care-
less one, are the means for obtaining all
the ends of expenditure. All getting
of money is in truth for the sake of ex-
pending it, and quite as much care,
attention, and even genius are required
to spend money to advantage as to get
it. To gather money by great diligence
and exertion, and to be careless or pro-
fuse in squandering it, is to forget in
the means the end for which all labour
is begun. Expenditure seems much
more regulated by custom than exer-
tion ; and changes in modes of living
seem to follow at a distance the changes
in modes of exertion and getting money.
Expenditure is regulated less by indi-
vidual taste than by class habits, and it
becomes those who acquire wealth by
honourable exertions, the leaders of
society, to deliberate carefully on the
modes in which they expend it. Follow-
ing rather a reasonable than a customary
course, they should direct expenditure
to secure health, to give ease, and to
command respect.
Of giving money there is little to be
said. It is a gift of services which only
the generous and the strong will make.
To be enabled to give money is, how-
ever, very often a motive for getting it ;
and it is not unfrequently got by im-
proper means in order to be given away.
Men are proud of being generous, and
Turpin's generosity gilded his robberies.
What a man honestly gets he may
freely dispose of; and each man in
giving away his superfluity must con-
sult his own heart, his condition in
society, and the wants of his neighbours.
To give an arboretum to a town, as Mr.
Strutt gave one to Derby ; to plant a
tree and to conduct a stream to the
road-side, and give them to the thirsty
traveller for convenient shade and drink,
are praiseworthy gifts ; but many of
the ostentatious gilts of the opulent to
the poor, such as gifts to paupers and
foundlings, only serve to perpetuate
some disease or some vice they are in-
tended to relieve.
Borrowing and lending money i&
borrowing and lending services, which is
an essential part of social life. Borrow-
ing and lending are not, therefore, to
be indiscriminately condemned. The
borrowing must always take place with
a reasonable hope of repayment, and for
the purpose of accomplishing some good
object. To borrow merely to squander
to borrow in order to indulge in low
vices to borrow without a reasonable
hope of having the means to pay, is to
receive services from others and return
none ; is to be useless or mischievous,
and deserving reprobation. Carried out
extensively, it would soon extinguish
society, and only in a very small degree
is it, or can it ever, be tolerated. It is a
palpable and injurious vice, and like
other vices is repressed by opinion.
But to borrow services in order to
execute some great or good work, which
will enable the borrower to repay with
interest all that he borrows, is a great
j means of men serving one another ; it
I calls into existence many mutual ser-
I vices that otherwise could not exist;
j and such lending and borrowing is
j equally and especially advantageous to
j both lenders and borrowers. All that
i is necessary to say of such lending and
I borrowing is that it must be judicious
j on both sides. For borrowing and
lending by individuals we can give no
other rule : to serve a friend to help a
neighbour to assist the needy and the
industrious, are all kindly acts, which,
when done in a right spirit, are sure to
be rewarded, though the money may
never be repaid.
Bequeathing money is bequeathing
power. In many, perhaps the majority
of cases, a man loses the power actively
to manage his property before his death.
As he becomes aged, he becomes infirm
and dependent. To give up all, like
Lear, and trust to children, is not wise,
but to give up property during life to
those who are to have it after death, and
ENTERTAINING BOOKS.
181
who (most probably) manage it before
death, seems wiser than to bequeath it.
The voice from the tomb is not so im-
pressive as the counsel of the living
man who has yet something in his
power, and the aged may more advanta-
geously guide or influence the young
than the departed. A gradual and
reasonable distribution of an accomu-
lated property before death is to be
recommended. When that is not done,
and for all that remains when it is done
as no general law for the distribution
of property, whether the rule be to
divide it equally between all the chil-
dren, or, when there are no children,
between all the collateral relatives of a
deceased, or to give a large portion to a
widow, or to an eldest son, or to the
youngest son, can never meet the require-
ments of individual cases the property
should be bequeathed by will. To
provide, as far as possible, for the help-
less, should be kept most prominently
in view : to give something to the needy
and the industrious, should next be
Considered; and the very last thing
that should be thought of is to add to
the riches of the rich. Superior to all
these considerations, however, is the
fact that almost every man is sur-
rounded by those who have already
shared in his wealth, and who perhaps
have assisted to bring or keep it to-
gether, and who have been bred up to
expect a large share of it ; in distribu-
ting it these are first to be thought of,
and amongst them the most helpless, the
most needy, the most careful, should be
especial objects of consideration. Each
individual case, however, has its own
peculiarities, which are at least as
various as the height, forms, and shades
of colour in individuals, and each can
only be judiciously treated by the ex-
ercise of discretion. No rules can
supply its place, or exonerate individu-
als from the duty of considering and
deciding for themselves ; and no general
habit is probably more pernicious than
that of supposing that rules can be the
substitute for discretion, and of follow-
ing them to the disregard of the pecu-
liar circumstances on which alone can
be formed auy and every sound judg-
ment. The main object of all law is not
to define but protect rights, and
amongst the rights it has to protect the
right of property is second in impor-
tance only to the right of life. " Thou
shalt not murder," "and thou shalt not
steal," are promulgated with equal
authority and equal strictness. The
right of property implies the right to
dispose of it, and consequently all regula-
tions to dispose of the property of indi-
viduals in any peculiar manner are
infringements on the right of property,
which the state is organised to protect.
They are all indefensible. Individuals
should dispose of their own property,
but it will remain for the legislator to
determine how far he will enforce tes-
tamentary dispositions that can only be
carried out by his authority. Get
money industriously, reader, spend it
methodically, and you will live happy,
and bequeath wealth and a good ex-
ample to posterity.
ENTERTAINING BOOKS.
THE age in which we live abounds with
entertaining books. Stories of every
description, some of them containing
good moral lessons, are exceedingly
numerous. Those of the better class
furnish food for fancy and feeling.
Fiction has its peculiar attractions,
and so has truth. Imagination can
scarcely devise more strange events,
more striking characters, or more ro-
mantic results, than occur on the pages
of history. The entertainment derived
from true books is the most valuable,
because it is the most worthy of being
remembered. The mind rests upon it
with satisfaction. It accords with its
native tastes. The child, as soon as it
can speak, says, " Please to tell me a
true story." Those who are most fami-
liar with unfolding infancy, agree, that
incidents simplified from the Scriptures,
delight it, though they may frequently
be repeated.
So, from the great storehouse of
history, the young may entertain and
enrich themselves at the same time.
By extending their acquaintance through
past ages and distant nations,the powers
of thought expand themselves, an ac-
183
OLD CHINA.
quaintance with illustrious elm:
is formed, and knowledge gained which
will be pro tit-able through liiV. hoth for
reflection and conversation.
Some have objected, that a wide-
range of history may give the young
mind a premature introduction to the
aid follies that disgrace mankind.
Yet thus to study them on the man of
man, and to form a correct opinion of
good and evil, and to deepen the love
of virtue, and the hatred of vice, by the
force of selected examples, might pre-
pare the young better to understand
character, and to resist temptation in
the actual struggle of life. The enter-
tainments of history may be as safe as
those of fiction, and more salutary. If
they sometimes reveal the whirlpools of
ambition, or the abysses of cruelty,
they change the scene, and present the
quiet waters of peace fertilising the
valleys, and the pure rose of virtue
blooming in the wilderness. Examples
of true greatness, generosity, and piety,
if less frequent than those of an oppo-
site nature, borrow force from contrast,
and may therefore make a deeper im-
pression, and thereby awaken a stronger
desire of imitation.
The entertainments of history aid in
acquiring a knowledge of human nature.
We taere see what man has been from
the beginning, and what motives or
temptations have moved him to good
or to evil. Great care should be taken
to form a correct judgment, and to
measure by a true standard of excel-
lence those whom the world has called
illustrious.
Especially should opinions be cau-
tiously formed of those whose fame
rests only upon military exploits.
Though the pride, cruelty, and revenge
that stain many of those now applauded
as heroes, are in a measure palliated
because they were heathen, still we are
bound to judge of right and wrong as
Christians. When we think of the
misery, mourning, and death that
marked their course upon the earth,
we cannot but wonder by what rule of
equity " one murderer should make a
villain, and many a, hero /"
To purchase a single conquest, how
many eyes have wept, how many
bosoms been pierced, how many hearts
i ! If victories, aud triumphs,
and trophies dazzle the eye, look at
their dark reverse; torrents of blood
flowing, widows and orphans plunged
in despair, throngs of unprepared souls
driven into the presence of their Maker.
The patriotism that dares danger for
the preservation of liberty, the firmness
that repels the encroachments of ty-
ranny, the courage that protects those
whose lives are entrusted to its care,
differ from the ambiaon that is willing
to build its glory on contention, suffer-
ing, and death. This spirit is at war
with His precepts, at whose birth the
harps of angels breathed the song of
" Peace on earth, and good-will to
men."
History may be read by the young
with a resolution of transcribing into
their own character whatever it exhibits
that is "just, lovely, and of good re-
port." Thus will its pages not only
afford, rational entertainment, but be
subservient to usefulness and piety in
this life, and to the happiness of that
which is to come.
OLD CHINA.
AMONG the ornaments and decora-
tions of our modern apartments, old
porcelain forms a very prominent fea-
ture. The activity shown in the pur-
suit of a rare piece of china, and the
extraordinary price which has been fre-
quently paid for it, are striking indica-
ti >us of the prevailing taste ; and there
is a certain degree of reputation at-
tached to the possessor of a good col-
lection, which is highly stimulating.
Of all the pursuits of fashion, this is
one of the most innocent. We have
had frequent occasions to admire the
female taste and judgment displayed in
the selection, and we have listened to
many an elegant dissertation from the
MPMtMt HpB in the world, on the beau-
ties of a mutilated jar, until we have
felt the incipient mania. Then have
we pryed into every broker's store in
each dirty avenue of the metropolis, in
the hope of forming a collection suited
to the dimensions of our apartment,
OLD CHIN,
183
and purchased with painful reference
to the state of our exchequer.
The proficiency of the Chinese in the
chief branch of their manufactures, the
state of their fine arts, and even the
religious opinions of the people, may be
collected from their porcelain. In the
numerous private cabinets of this me-
tropolis are specimens of the most pre-
cious kinds of porcelain, for which the
Chinese have been long pre-eminent,
and the manufactories of our own
country experience the benefit of these
models. With the advantages of more
correct principles of design, the know-
ledge of perspective, and of the har-
mony of coloiirs, we are only deficient
in understanding the mixture of the
materials, and the plastic part, to rival
the productions of Eastern Asia in this
line. The former may be made good to
us by our superior chemical science, the
latter will no doubt be acquired by pa-
tience and care. Every one therefore
must applaud the curiosity which leads
to forming such collections, and must
cease to wonder at the high price at
which objects of such beauty and im-
portance have been estimated.
The kiud of porcelain chiefly prized
is termed Mandarin or Egg-shell. It
displays the greatest ingenuity in the
fabric ; its characteristic is extreme deli-
cacy, and the objects on it are of the
most exquisite pencilling and enamel.
The marks, however, by which the
Mandarin porcelain may be known are
not decidedly agreed on. Some persons
have ventured to recommend it by the
thinness and transparency of the ma-
terial ; others by the contrast of some
rich colour on the outside with a green
verditer within ; others again only, and
perhaps with juster reason, on the
quadrangular cluster of characters in-
scribed on the bottoms of the vessels.
These groups, it is believed, are the
most ancient characters of China,
changed from their hieroglyphical to
a quadrate form, and are used as a
court character. The inscription re-
cords the dynasty and emperor under
which the specific piece of porcelain was
made.
The Crackle China is admired for
the cracks observable in the varnish.,
which, it is believed, are occeasioned
by the vase being suddenly exposed to
a cool draught of air, while the varnish
is yet warm.
The more thick Enamel China is less
to be admired for its earth and painting,
than for the freedom with which
aquatic and other plants are designed
on it, for the richness of the colours^
laid on in varnish, and the curious sym-
bols with which it is embellished.
The Burnt-in China is considered of
inferior quality; but this mode of
colouring gives admirable richness and
effect when introduced on the genuine
specimens of the old Japan, which is of
massive manufacture, and admired for
its weight.
The Old Japan, properly so called,
combines almost every quality that is
separately admired in the porcelain of
China. The broad flowers depicted
on it are displayed in blue and red,
burnt in, with the addition of a little
enamel. But what chiefly gives rich-
ness to these specimens, is the bold
relief in which some of the flowers are
executed, and afterwards gilt and bur-
nished.
The Chinese have discovered a fertile
source for the embellishments of these-
different kinds, in the fables of their
religion; and, it is remarkable that,
like the Greeks, they have chosen their
earthenware to commemorate their
most secret doctiines.
A Chinese Emperor is said to have
observed that the dragons on his crest
were designed for more than mere
ornament. They had a moral significa-
tion. We may amrm that many sub-
jects depicted on porcelain have a
recondite meaning. The operation of the
elements on each other, to produce the
first created universe, according to the
material notions of the Gentiles, seems
to be expressed by the combinations of
the fiery dragon with the Fung Hoang,
or bird of Paradise, expressive of Air ;
the Ky-lin, or horned dog, perhaps
denoting Earth ; and the tortoise-fish,
or the lotus, which indifferently imply
Water.
Fohi, the ancient founder of the
184-
THE MAN WHO NURSES THE BABY.
Chinese Empire (coeval with Noah) is
reported to have seen a tortoise issue
from the water, bearing cm its back a
mystical diagram ; and on this account
we find a tortoise-shell pattern adopted
on china as a border, having open com-
partments in which flowers are painted
and enamelled in natural colours.
Hence, the date of this appearance to
Fohi being considered, we conclude the
combined emblem denotes the vegeta-
ble creation arising from water. But
the forms, as well as the paintings of
porcelain, are of mythological import ;
and the hexagon seems to have been
generally preferred, from its represent-
ing the natural vein or mark in the
shell of the sacred tortoise. We col-
lect from Bayer that Fohi appointed
eight Tchin or spirits they are proba-
bly no more than the eight persons pre-
served at the general destruction of
mankind, with which Fohi must have
been coeval, but which he and a few
others survived. These persons may
be seen on bowls, plates, &c., standing
on water, generally supported on a fish
or aquatic animal, and are thus dis-
tinguished :
1. How-ciug-koe, a female with a
landing net.
2. Hong-chong-lie, a boy with a flute.
3. Lit-hit-quay, a man with a crutch
and double gourd.
4. Toug-fong-sok, a man with a fan
and the fruit of immortality.
5. Schow-lak-how, a man with rat-
tles or castanets.
6. Lut-hong ban, a man with a sword
and cowtail.
7. Tchuug-colao, a man with a bam-
boo tube and pencils.
8. La-mi-tsui-woo, a youth or female
with a basket of flowers.
The implements depicted on Enamel
China are the symbols of these divini-
ties, and the fruit borne by the fourth
person has suggested the form of many
vessels in porcelain. Were a Chinese to
present liquor in a vessel so shaped, it
might be deemed a flattering mode of
salutation.
We find a ninth person, superior to
these, who may, perhaps, represent the
material heaven ; he is almost invaria-
bly seated; he rides on the stork, a
bird of supposed longevity ; he is bald
and au'i'd. and he carries a sceptre. He
seems to be the ancient one a title well
known in the Egyptian, Scythian, and
Greek mythologies, as Pi-apas, and
Jupiter Pappaeus.
THE MAN WHO NURSES THE
BABY.
LITTLE children, lonely little ones,
white-souled buds of existence, fair
dovelets of heaven's own empyrean :
happy the man of the world who, turn-
ing his back on scenes of heartless
frivolity and falsely alluring pleasure,
seeks his dearest enjoyments among
them, in their purifying association, for
" of such is the kingdom of heaven."
Would, for the sake of you, my dear
reader, I were endowed with a pencil
embodying the delicate grace of Coreg-
gio, and a palette spread with the magic
tints of Titian, that I might worthily
pourtray the excellences and virtues of
this noblest and most admirable of his
kind, the man who nurses the baby.
"Who is he?" demands a fair damsel,
in dulcet accents.
Oh, that must remain a secret, for
a modest person is the one in ques-
tion ; but a little patience, and I will
enlighten you as far as the bounds
of prudence admit of enlightenment.
Paying a visit the other afternoon to
a friend who resides somewhere in the
precincts of , I, after sojourning
for a brief interval in the drawing-room,
was invited by the lady of the mansion
up to her boudoir, which, entering
rather unexpectedly, the first object my
gaze lit upon was the lord of the house-
hold, ensconced very comfortably on a
low couch by the fire, with the baby
on his lap, and wearing, meanwhile,
an air the most placid and matronly
in the world.
"Ah, this is pretty employment for
you, Mr. H , is it not?" quoth I,
derisively.
"Yes, indeed," chimed in his wife;
"he always will take the baby when he
comes home from the city."
But while her nonchalant tones
seemed to convey the impression that
THE MAN WHO NURSES THE BABY.
185
she but lightly appreciated the treasure
of a hu-band she possessed, it was easy
to discover from her beaming eye and
self-gratular<>ry manner, that she con-
sidered him a very model of men a
pattern for extensive imitation.
The rnau who nurses the baby, in
utter scnrn of my continued raillery,
only the more fondly caressed the mag-
nificent little fellow, and, sweeping his
eyes proudly over a circle of as lovely
home-flowers as need to grace a fireside,
from the blythesome small maiden just
hovering over the verge of her teens,
down to the riugletted, frolicksome
fairy of some three summers, who,
nestling close to her mother's side,
darted at me, from her violet peepers,
shy, curious glances, smiled his reply
a mute response far more eloquent than
words.
Little children are the keenest phy-
siognomists imaginable, for they have
an infallible instinct which teaches them
whom to approach or avoid, and to dis-
tinguish, almost at first sight, a kindly
and sincere nature from a morose and
ungeuial one. To the meek simplicity
of a little child must return the haugh-
tiest and loftiest spirit of man, ere it
may become meet for the kingdom of
God. The man who loves children, and
is successful in winning their trust and
affection, still catches through the clouds
and darkening shades of perturbed life,
bright glimpses of
' The heaven that lay about him in his iufancv ; "
and yet folds closely above his heart,
even amidst the toils and tatters of his
out-grown innocence, a small remnant
of that glittering raiment of immaculate
purity which robed the soul of the first
infant when cradled, a tender nursling,
in mother Eve's arm.
" Umph ! I wonder whether father
Adam ever nursed the baby ?" methinks
I hear muttered in tones of deep in-
credulous bass.
What a question ! Why, my good
sir, of course he did ; and a beautiful
sight it must have been to have seen
that first family together. We will
imagine a scene in that era; a bower,
gorgeously draped with a profusion of
fragrant blossoming vines, and fur-
nished with an enamelled and flower
broidered carpet of luxurious velvet
grass. Inside behold the majestic pair;
Adam, reposing after the toils of the
day, with the infant Abel in his arms,
and graceful Eve kneeling beside him,
playfully waving, just beyond the tiny
grasp of the smiling little one, a bunch
of rich, luscious, purple grapes. Not
far off flows a picturesque river, and,
straying on its gently sloping margin,
may be seen young Cain, wirh curling
locks and sunny brow, as yet unfor-
rowed with the scowl of unhallowed
passions, gathering for his baby brother
a nosegay of the superb lilies and other
rare flowers that fringe it. The melo-
dious ripple of the stream mingles
faintly with the sweet glee of Abel as
he welcomes, with a glad shout, the
returning steps of his playmate. Sweet
and placid picture !
Now, the creeping shades of evening,
and the dews spangling each leaf and
blossom, warn the sacred group that it
is time to prepare for slumber. Phi-
lomel commences her vesperian hymn,
and Adam, the baby still in his bosom,
offers up his accustomed sacrifice of
prayer and adoration to the Preserver
of his happiness, the bestower of his
wife and babes. That radiant baud of
angels, who have been bending with
looks of love and admiration over the
scene, now, ere their immortal eyes
vanish from among the myriads of
silver stars, pronounce a fervent Amen.
Let not for a moment be harboured
the idea that my friend, the man who
nurses the baby, is an effeminate or
weak-minded individual ! No ! Nothing
could be farther from the truth. Dig-
nified in appearance is he, of portly
and courteous mien, in tastes refined,
and, withal, with a mercantile reputa-
tion that speaks well on 'Change.
Miss Bremer affirms that at no other
time does a gentleman appear to such
advantage as when presiding patriarch-
ally in the bosom of his family. Certain
it is, that a large majority of the more
fascinating gentlemen one meets in
society, are men of family. The man
who reserves his sour moods for home
who hoards up the spleen, which he
186
THE CANARY BIRD.
dared not wreak on strangers, for the
domestic circle who slams the front
door till the whole house quivers -
who snatches off his beaver, and tears
off his coat with a growl, and bounces
into the room with a sharp snarl who
tosses poor Pussy off her comfortable
cushion for sheer spite, and kicks Ponto
till he fairly yells with pain; but, oh !
oh ! especially the man who nwcr nurses
the baby, is prepared to perpetrate any
enormity whatever, and .should be
banished, with hue and cry, from the
society of humanised beings. Mark
him well; he is ripe for "treason,
stratagems, and spoils; let no such
man be trusted."
Therefore, all hail to my friend ! the
man who nurses the baby, and does it,
too, with such irresistible elegance ! may
he continue to flourish, until his crown
blossoms like the almond tree. Much
astonished will he be, in sooth, when,
seizing on his favourite paper, he finds
himself and his modest merits immor-
talised in its delightful columns. But
let him not blush, for righfc fortunate
may he esteem himself, if, during the
progress of life he earn no less honour-
able cognomen than this, the Man who
nurses the Baby ! A. B.
THE CANARY BIRD.
THE Canary birds now kept and reared
throughout the whole of Europe were
originally natives of the Canary Islands.
There they are still found in pleasant
valleys, and on the delightful banks
of sparkling rills and small streams.
But for some two hundred years they
have been bred in Europe.
About the beginning of the sixteenth
century a ship was wrecked on the
coast of Italy, which, in addition to
merchandise, had a multitude of cana-
ries on board. These birds, thus
obtaining their liberty, flew to the
Island of Elba, the nearest laud. There
they found a propitious climate, and
multiplied veiy rapidly. Had not man
interposed, by hunting them for cage
birds, until they were entirely extir-
pated, they would probably have
naturalised themselves there.
In Italy were found the first tame
canaries, and there they are still raised in
vast numbers. Within the last hundred
years they were so uncommon and
expensive, that only princes and people
of great wealth could keep them. But
at the present day these birds are raised
in all our cities, and most of the towns,
and sold a, moderate prices.
In its native island the. plumage of
the canary bird is said to be more
beautiful than that of our tame ones ;
but its song is less melodious and
varied, consisting of fewer notes, and
uttered at longer intervals. The ori-iuai
colour of this bird in its wild state was
grey, merging into green beneath ; but
by domestication and climate it has
been so changed that canaries may now
be seen of almost every hue.
Most commonly they are of some
shade of yellow ; but some are grey,
others white ; some are reddish brown,
or chestnut- coloured, others ai^e beauti-
fully shaded with green. These are the
prevailing colours, but they are blended
in various combinations, and tt us pre-
sent every degree of shade. Those th
most prized exhibit most marked and
regularly these various shades
The one most generally admired, at
present, is yellow, or white upon its
body, and of a dun, yellow colour on
the wings, head, and tail. Next in
degree of beauty is that which is of a
golden yellow, with black, blue, or
blackish-grey head, and similar wings
and tail. There are also grey ones, with
yellow heads, or with a ring about the
neck ; and white ones with a yellow-
breast, and white head and tail. Those
which are more irregularly marked are
less esteemed.
The canary bird is five inches in
length, of which the tail comprises two
inches and a quarter. Sometimes the
female is not easily distinguished from,
the male ; but the latter has generally
deeper and brighter colours, the head
is rather thicker, the body is more
lender throughout, and the temples
and space around the eyes are always of
brighter yellow than the rest of the
body.
In selecting a bird, those are best
which stand upright on the pw-ch,
PRESERVATION OF SIGHT.
187
appear bold and lively, and are not
frightened at every noise they hear, or
everything they see. If its eyes are
bright and cheerful, it is a sign of
health ; but if it keeps its head under
tho wing, it is drooping and sickly.
Its song should also be particularly
noticed, for there is much difference in
this respect. But as it often depends
on the peculiar taste of the purchaser,
no directions can be given for its appli-
cation. In respect to the notes of these
birds, there is much difference. Some
of them have very fine notes; but if
the song is not fine they can be edu-
cated, by being placed with another,
which is a good singer.
They catch the tones of other kindred
songsters with considerable facility ;
hence, among the best singers there is
a material difference in the song, which
depends mainly on the bird with which
they have been educated. In some
countries the nightingale is employed
as a master musician to a whole flock
of canaries ; and it is this which gives
some foreign birds a different tone of
voice from those bred in this country.
In teaching the canary bird to sing, it
is usual to take him from his com-
rades, and place him in a cage alone.
This is covered with a cloth, when a
short, simple air is whistled to him, or
played on a flute, or a small organ. In
this manner, by repeating the tune five
or six times each day, especially morn-
ings and evenings, he will learn to sing
it. But it will frequently require five
or six mouths before he will retain the
whole tune.
Canary birds sometimes hatck their
young every month in the year; but
more commonly they breed only in the
spring, summer, and fall months. After
the young birds are hatched the old
ones are fed with soft food, such as cab-
bage, lettuce, chickweed ; also with eggs
boiled hard, and rniuced very fine with
some dried roll, or bread containing no
salt, which has been soaked in water,
and the water pressed out. Rape-seed,
or the seed of the turnip, is much used
for their food.
Up to the twelfth day the young
birds remain almost naked, and require
to be covered by the female but after
the thirteenth they will feed them-
selves. When they are a month old
they may be removed from the breeding
cage.
It is a curious fact that, when two
females are with oce male in the same
cage, and one female dies, the other, if
she has not already sat, will hatch the
eggs laid by her co-mate, and rear the
young as her own.
PRESERVATION" OF SIGHT.
Take care of your Et/es. Most people
may preserve good sight through their
whole lives by taking care of it ; and
yet most people forfeit it by neglecting
it. Among the rules for keeping the
eyes sound and healthy the following
are some of the most important :
Avoid glaring lights ; avoid abrupt,
violent transitions from light to dark-
ness, and from, heat to cold, and vice
versa ; keep the eyes clean ; wash them
with lukewarm water. According to
the old English proverb, " fasting spit-
tle is good for sore eyes." Most ani-
mals heal their wounds by licking them
with their tongues, for the saliva has
great healing virtues ; therefore, if you
suffer from irritation of the eyes,
moisten your finger with your saliva,
and apply it gently to the eyes. But
do not rub or press your eyes at
all roughly unless you wish to injure
them. Never allow dust or hairs to
remain in your eyes ; but if they get in,
fill the eyes with lukewarm water, so
as to set the encumbrance afloat, and
gently draw your fingers across the eyes
in the direction of the nose, until the
offending substances slip out at the
corners. Don't put poultices over your
eyes, lest in attempting thus to draw
out the inflammatory diseases, you draw
out eyes and all. In order to preserve
your eyesight preserve your general
health by air, exercise, and temperance,
and medic :ne when you require it.
Accustom your eyes to moderate and
varied exercise, but never strain them
by too long persevering over a work
which they are weary of. Weak eyes
are more benefited by a green shade,
188
THE BEGGAR.
or blue or green spectacles, or railway
goggles (marie of wire gauze) than by
thick bandage. Avoid reading small
print after dinner, especially if your
dinner has been rather of the epicurean
order. And do not read much by can-
dle-light, nr sew black clothes, &c.
As caudles are apt to flare and produce
an undulating glare, use a ground glass
or oiled paper lamp instead. Avoid
exposing your eyes to an artificial
draught of air. Don't roast your eyes
by sitting too much before a bright
fire. If your usual position exposes
one eye more than another to a glare of
light, protect the exposed eye by a
green shade. Use double eye-glasses
when you require them, rather than
single eye-glasses, or even spectacles,
and take care that their focus precisely
suits your own. Choose apartments
that are well and evenly lighted. Ac-
custom your eyes to the natural influ-
ence of the atmosphere and solar light ;
those who live in dark and close rooms
will produce a morbid weakness of the
optic nerves. Beware of strong reflected
lights, especially those from white
walls, chalk rocks, &c., for white hardly
absorbs any ray, whereas the other
colours absorb many. Accustom your
eyes to view varied objects at near and
remote distances, as by this means you
will preserve their free play and flexi-
bility; whereas if you direct your
sight too exclusively to near objects
you will become near-sighted, and vice
versa. Let the coloured papers of your
rooms be rather mild and soft than
brilliant or garish. View objects in
oblique lights so as to avoid their direct
reflections, which often dazzle the eyes.
The best colour for spectacles is pale
blue. Do not let a glaring light fall on
the paper while you read or write.
Keep the eyes cool by temperance, and
the feet warm by exercise. When the
eyes are simply weak, a tonic wash,
such as alum-water, or green tea and
brandy-water, is beneficial. When
irritable, use weak goulard water, and
produce defluxion from the nose by
taking snuffs.
THE BEGGAR.
A BEGGAR through the world am I
From place to place I wander by.
Fill up my pilgrim's scrip for me,
For Christ's sweet sake and charity f
A little of thy steadfastness.
Rounded with leafy graceness,
Old oak, give me,
That the world's blasts may round me
blow,
And I yield gently to and fro,
While my stout-hearted trunk below
And firm-set roots unmoved be.
Some of thy stern, unyielding might,
Enduring still through day and night,
Rude tempest-shock and witl
blight-
That I may keep at bay
The changeful April sky of change
And the strong tide of circumstance
Give me, old granite gray.
Some of thy mournfulness serene
Some of thy never-dying green,
Put in this scrip of mine,
That griefs may fall like snow-flakes.,
light,
And deck me in a robe of white,
Ready to be an angel bright,
O sweetly-mournful pine.
A little of thy merriment,
Of thy sparkling, light content,
Give me, my cheerful brook,
That I may still be full of glee
And gladsomeness, where'er I be,
Though fickle fate hath prisoned me
In some neglected nook.
Ye have been very kind and good
To me since I've been in the wood ;
Ye have gone nigh to fill my heart ;
But good bye, kind friends, every one,
I've far to go ere set ol sun ;
Of all good things I would have
part,
The day was high ere I could start,
And so my journey's scarce begun.
Heaven help me ! how could I forget
To beg of thee, dear violet !
Some of thy modesty,
That flowers here as well, unseen,
As if before the world thou dst been,
give, to strengthen me !
J. R. LOWELL.
ANOTHER INTERVIEW WITH DR. MUSPRATT-
189
ANOTHER INTERVIEW WITH
DR. MUSPRATT.
DR. MUSPRATT'S Dictionary of Che-
mistry, applied to arts and manu-
factures, appears in monthly shilling
parts. Whatever is discussed is dis-
cussed with remarkable completeness,
the rationale of each process is very
clearly given, and there is no stint of
well-executed illustrative woodcuts. Dr.
Muspratt proposes to himself that the
seeker of information upon any subject
included in the plan of his dictionary
shall find in the work whatever he may
chance to look for ; and we have no
doubt that he will so carry out his
plan as to produce a book of standard
value to the chemist and manufacturer.
That it is at the same time not
without much interest even to the
general reader who looks into it for in-
formation, we may show by quoting
several brief and interesting passages.
ALCOHOL, &c. The operations of a
distillery relate to the extraction of the
alcohol from various sorts of grain.
Wheat, oats barley, rye, Indian corn,
lice, and other of the grammas, whether
in the raw or in the malted state, as
well as the juices of fruits, sugarcane,
beetroot, potatos, carrots, and even
some of the grasses, and many other
vegetable and natural substances, evisce-
rate certain elements which, by peculiar
processes, yield alcohol. Distillation
is invariably one of these operations ;
but it is preceded by others which differ
according to the nature of the ingre-
dients employed. Those liquors uni-
versally known and abused, such as
whiskey, hollands, gin, brandy, rum,
spirit of wine, and cordials of various
kinds, all contain alcohol, which passes
over in the process of distillation.
British brandy, British gin, whiskey,
or rum, are produced from corn ;
French brandy, from wine; West
India ruin, from sugar or molasses.
The different qualities of these
various liquids depend partly on the
centesimal amount of alcohol, partly on
the berries, herbs, and seeds with which
they are flavoured, partly on their mode
of manufacture, and lastly, on the
matters whence they are derived. In
every case, however, the substance
suffering the process of distillation is a
sweet liquid, but the means whereby
the saccharine material is instituted
vary with circumstances. The extract
produced from grain is converted into
a kind of beer before being distilled.
The fermented liquor, modified in a
particular way, forms beer at the
brewery ; whilst in the distillery it is
known under the name of wash, and is
that liquid which undergoes, subse-
quently, the process of distillation. * *
From scientific inquiries, the distillers
and rectifiers of spirituous liquors have
gathered a rich harvest of experience,
inasmuch as they have been made
better acquainted with the nature of
their operations, and more qualified to
procure artificially any beverage almost
instantaneously. But many of this
class, much to the detriment of their
business character, pass by chemistry
entirely ; the consequence of which is,
that in the fabrication of artificial
liquors a most absurd course is often
adopted, and mixtures used in favour
of which there is neither the evidence
of reason nor of common sense.
BEER. A malt liquor of any kind, or a
spirituous liquor made from any farina-
ceous grain, but generally from barley,
which is first malted and ground, and its
fermentable substance extracted by hot
water. This extract or infusion is
evaporated by boiling in caldrons, and
hops, or some other plant of an agree-
able bitterness, added. The liquor is
then allowed to ferment in vats. It is
of different degrees of strength, and is
denominated small beer, ale, porter,
brown stout, &c., according to the quan-
tity and nature of its ingredients. Beer
is a name given in America to ferment-
ing liquors made of various other ma-
terials ; and when a decoction of the
roots of plants forms part of the com-
position, it is called spring beer, from
the season in which, it is made. There
is also root beer. In Britain, the t erm
beer is applied in the sarae way to fer-
mented liquors mad*/ from ginger,
spruce, and molasses, as well as to that
procured from malt and hops. In the
190
ANOTHER INTERVIEW WITH DR. MUSPRATT.
time of Tacitus, whose treatise on the
manners of the Germans was written
about the end of the first century of
the Christian ei-a, beer was their com-
mon drink. Pliny mentions it as being
tised in Spain, under the name of ccelia,
and :-(ria ; and in Gaul, under that of
cerevisia ; he then proceeds to explain,
that almost every species of corn has
been used for the manufacture of beer.
In Europe it is usually made from
barley ; in India from rice ; in the
interior of Africa, according to Muugo
Park, from the seeds of the hoicus
spicatus, spiked or eared wall-hardy.
These observations are corroborated
by other authors of antiquity ; and
the cercvisia of Pliny evidently takes
its name from Ceres, the goddess of
corn lexicographers doubting whether
it o\ight not to be written cererisia.
Plautus more minutely calls it Cercalis
liquor; that is, liquor used at the
solemn feasts in honour of that goddess
the harvest home ; and both he and
Columella a famous writer on agri-
culture, who nourished in the reign of
Claudius, and whose work is therefore
coeval with the invasion of Britain by
that emperor called this liquor zythum,
which, if traced back to its Greek origin,
is interpreted " drink from barley."
There is no department of the arts
and manufactures where chemistry has
exerted a more decided influence than
in brewing. In a state of society like
the present, when philosophy and enter-
prise travel with giant strides, and
when every branch of technology calls
aloud for scientific aid, exact theo-
retical information cannot be too widely
diffused. Notwithstanding the trite
saying which has existed from time im-
memorial, that any old woman can
brew, it is worthy of remark that few
old women, even in literature, are che-
mists, fewer chemists are brewers, and
fewer still are the brewers who, by
attention to chemical transformation,
have been able to increase the quantity
of the useful extract from malt, and to
reject the errors, both in theory and
in practice, that eventually reduce the
labour of the old- woman brewer to fu-
tility and loss.
Many operative brewers, in some of
the largest town establishments, even
now ridicule and despise the idea of
chemistry being in any way connected
with the art of brewing. Such ignorant
prejudices only perpetuate bigotry, and
cause an enormous waste of property ;
the progress of useful art is impeded ;
and its promoters are ungenerously
maligned by a spirit which knows not
the limited range of its own capacity.
WATER. Perhaps nothing in nature
is more variable in character than this
apparently simple fluid, which is not
the aqua pura which it seems, and
which many believe it to be, but a
heterogeneous mixture of alkaline and
metallic salts, acids, gases, and occa-
sionally even animal and vegetable
matter, some being held in chemical
union, and others in mechanical sus-
pension. Pure water, or oxide of hydro-
gen, is attainable only by art.
HOPS. The medicinal properties of
hops are numerous. The odorous ema-
nations arising from them possess
marked nai*cotic properties. Hence a
pillow of the cones has often been pre-
scribed to promote sleep, in cases
where the administration of opium
could not be effected, or would have
been objectionable. Both infusion and
tincture of hops are mild and agreeable
aromatic tonics. They sometimes mani-
fest diuretic, or, when the skin is kept
warm, sudorific qualities. Their se-
dative, soporific, and anodyne proper-
ties are very uncertain.
The editor does not attach much
importance to the assertion that hops
are narcotic, and that their influence
upon the frame is wonderful, especially,
when they are used in pillows, as he
considers that the imagination plays a
most important part in all such matters
vide spirit rapping, table turning, ct
cetera.
The properties of hops in brewing are
important, but may be given in a few
words.
All the medical qualities are to some
degree exerted by the liquors in which
they are employed. They render the
beer more stimulant and cordial, and
the bitter principle overcomes the dia-
ANOTHER INTERVIEW WITH DR. MUSPRATT.
191
agreeable sweetness arising from the
malt, and which, if unneutralised,
might be offensive, if not injurious, to
pei-sons having weak digestive organs
LAGOONS OF TUSCANY. They are
unique in Europe, if not in the world ;
and their produce has become an article
of equal importance to Great Britain as
an import, and to Tuscany as to export
They are spread overasurface of 30 miles,
and exhibit, from the distance, columns
of vapour, more or less according to the
season of the year and state of the wea-
ther, which rise in large volumes among
the recesses of the mountains.
As one approaches the lagoons, the
earth seems to pour out boiling water,
as if from volcanoes of various sizes, in
a variety of soil, but principally of
chalk and sand. The heat in the im-
mediate vicinity is intolerable, and one
is drenched by the vapour, which im-
pregnates the atmosphere with a strong
and somewhat sulphurous smell. The
whole scene is one of terrible violence
audconfusion the noisy outbreak of the
boiling stream; the rugged and agi-
tated surface ; the volumes of steam ;
the impregnated atmosphere ; the rush
of waters among bleak and solitary
mountains.
The ground, which burns and shakes
beneath the feet, is covered with beau-
tiful crystallisations of sulphur, c.
The character beneath the surface of
Monte Cerboli is that of a black marl,
striated with carbonate of lime, giving
it, at a short distance, the appearance of
variegated marble. Formerly the place
was regarded by the rustics as the
entrance of hell, a superstition de-
rived, no doubt, from very ancient
times ; for the principal of the lagoons,
and the neighbouring volcano, still
bear the name of Monte Cerboli Mons.
Cerberi. The peasantry never passed
by the spot without terror, coxmting
their beads and imploring the pro-
tection of the virgin.
The lagoons have been brought into
their present profitable action within a
very few years. Scattered over an ex-
tensive district, they have become the
property of Count Larderel, to whom
they are a source of wealth more
v:du:tble, perhaps, and certainlv less
capricious, than any mine of silver that
Mexico or Peru possesses.
That these lagoons, so valuable to the
proprietor and to other nations, in the
commercial importance of their produc-
tions, should have been permitted to
discharge their enormous yield of bo-
racic acid unheeded into the atmo-
sphere- that they should have been so
frequently visited by scientific men,
to none of whom, for ages at least, did
the thought occur that they contained
in them mines of wealth, is a curious
phenomenon : nor is it less remarkable,
that it was left for a man whose name
and occupation are wholly dissociated
from science to convert these fugitive
vapours indirectly into gold, by pro-
cesses which, though simple, are never
theless eminently chemical.
BREAD. Nations from the earliest
periods, as they approached civilisation,
became, as it were, instinctively aware of
the necessity of providing a more certain
means of satisfying the cravings of appe-
tite than the chase could afford ; hence
the introduction of agriculture has been
one of the most effectual of human
means to bring about that conversion
from barbarism inherent in man, when
left only to batten on a moor. This
art is one of the conditions imposed
upon man in consequence of his fall ;
and it continues to be the mainstay of
human existence. It is observed that
of all the material interests influencing
humanity, there is none which so com-
pletely and tyrannically fetters the in-
dividual as the care for his daily bread ;
and though this great feature is evinced
by different pursuits in life, yet these,
like so many tributary streams and
rivulets, are continually meandering till
they terminate in the all-absorbing
ocean of agriculture, which is the soul
of all the other branches of industry in-
vented in modern ages ; without it,
none other can stand It is that art on
which a thousand millions of men are
dependent for the'ir very life ; in the
prosecution of which about nine-tenths
of the fixed capital of civilised nations
are embarked; and upon which more
than two hundred millions of human
192
ANOTHER INTERVIEW WITH DR. MUSPRATT.
teings expend their diurnal labour; the
parent and forerunner of all the other
arts. In every clime, then, at every
epoch, the investigation of the princi-
ples on which the rational practice of
this art is founded ought to have com-
manded the attention of the greatest
minds ; and to no other object could
they have been more beneficially di-
rected.
Is it not strange that those engaged
in the cultivation of the land are, as a
body, amongst the most unscientific in
the industrial pursuits of ancient and
modern times ? A paramount obstacle
to scientific agriculture in the farmer is
the great difficulty which the solution
of natural science always presents to
the investigator; and as nature's opera-
tions lie at the foundation of agricul-
ture, the philosopher can, in numerous
instances, go no further in offering an
explanation than the humble husband-
man.
BAKING POWDER. Bicarbonate of
soda and tartaric acid, mixed in equal
proportions, are other substitutes for
yeast. The result of their action is the
same as the preceding ; instead of chlo-
ride of sodium, however, tartrate of
soda is formed. This mixture of bicai*-
bonate of soda and tartaric acid is re-
tailed by druggists under the name
" baking powder." In preparing a
dough with this compound, it is
thoroughly mixed with the flour by
agitation and sifting ; the usual quan-
tity of water is then added, and the
whole quickly stirred and mixed up
into the form of the loaf; as soon as
the water comes in contact with the
flour with which the mixture has been
incorporated carbonaic acid is liberated,
on account of the chemical action con-
sequent upon the solution. In making
this kind of dough the hands cannot be
conveniently used in the usual way, as
the moist flour adheres to them ; and
therefore a mechanical agitator, or
wooden spatula is employed ; and when
the mass has acquired sufficient con-
sistency, without any lumps of dry
flour being allowed to remain, it is
shaped, put into the moulds or other-
wise, and baked as speedily as possible.
About a teaspoonful of the baking
powder is sufficient for each pound of
flour.
FANCY BISCUIT BAKING. Tim branch,
which was heretofore confined to retail
confectioners, has latterly acquired an
importance entitling it to be ranked
among the minor staple commodities of
the kingdom ; for not only does the
home demand absorb thousands of tons
weight annually, but large quantities
are exported to the colonies au'l foreign
countries. This change, like many
others of modern date, has been brought
about by means of the manufacturing
system : which, by its subdivision of la-
bour, the skilful adaptation of machinery,
and capabilities of production on an ex-
tended scale, has so diminished the cost
as to place within reach of the million
what was till of late years a luxury for
the opulent. The production of fancy
biscuits on the large scale mentioned
is confined to some half dozen localities.
In this department one is struck with
the variety of form and names of the
products. So numerous are these that
no fewer than sixty sorts are made, all
reputed to be different; and what is
most singular, every new kind seems
for a season to take the place of its pre-
decessors. This, if it augurs nothing
else, at least indicates a love of novelty,
which the trade tampers with to a vast
extent, for large sums are yearly ex-
pended in procuring designs, as well in
the form as in the manner in which the
the biscuits are presented to the public.
BUTTER. Though butter may be con-
sidered as one of the most common of
all ordinary things, yet the ancients
were nearly, if not entirely, ignorant of
its existence. The older translators of
Hebrew seemed to think that they had
met with it in Scripture, but most
modern Biblical critics agree that what
was formerly interpreted butter signi-
fied milk or cream, or, more properly,
sour thick milk. The word referred to
plainly alludes to a liquid, as it appears
that the substance meant was used for
washing the feet, and that it was im-
bibed, and had an intoxicating imluence.
It is well known that mares' mi.k, when
sour, has a similar effect.
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
193
80. REFRANGIBILITY OF
LIGHT. If you bold your finger in a
perpendicular direction veiy near your
eye, that is to say, at the distance of a
few inches at most, and look at a candle
in such a manner that the edge of your
finger shall appear to be very near the
flame, you will see the border of the
flame coloured red. If you then move
the edge of your finger before the flame,
so as to suffer only the other border of
it to be seen, this border will appear
tinged with blue, while the edge of your
finger will be coloured red. If the same
experiment be tried with an opaque
body surrounded by aluminous medium,
such, for example, as the upright bar of
a sash window, the colours will appear
in a contrary order. When a thread of
light only remains between your finger
and the bar, the edge of your finger will
be tinged red, and the edge next the bar
will be bordered with blue ; but when
you bring the edge of your finger near
the second edge of the bar, so that it
shall be entirely concealed, this second
edge will be tinged reel, and the edge
of the finger would doubtless appear to
be coloured blue, were it possible that
this dark colour could be seen in an
obscure and brown ground.
81. MIND YOUR OWN BUSI-
NESS. To tell a man to his face to
mind his own business, would be consi-
dered about equal to knocking him
down. And yet it is one of the simplest
rules of right conduct, and the most
useful that mankind can adopt in their
intercourse with each other. There is a
great deal of the Paul Pry spirit in the
human heart, or wonderful inquisitive-
ness in regard to the personal and
private affairs of friends and neigh-
bours. This spirit makes more mischief
in the community than almost any other
cause, and creates more malice, envy,
and jealousy, than can be overcome in a
century. Let every man mind his own
business, and there will not be half the
trouble in the world that there is at
present.
82. FLIES. A fly lays four times
during the summer," each time eighty
eggs, which makes 320 ; half of thege
are supposed to be females, so that each
No. 7.
of the four broods produces 40. I
First eight, or the 40 females of the first
brood, also lay four times hi the course
of the summer, which makes 12,800;
the first eight of these, or 1,600 females,
three times, 384,000 ; the second eight
twice, 250,000; the third and fourth
eight, at least once each, 230,000. 2.
The second eight, or the 40 females of
the second brood, lay three times, the
produce of which is 9,600 ; one-sixth of
these, or 1,600 females, three times,
384,000; the second sixth twice,
256,000; the third six once, 123,000.
3. The third eight, or the 40 females
of the third brood, lay twice, and pro-
duce 6,400 ; one-fourth of these, or
1,600 females, lay twice more, 256,000.
4. The fourth eight, or 40 females of
the fourth brood, once, 2,200 ; half of
these, or 1,600 females, at least once,
128,000. Total produce of a single fly
in one summer : 2,080,320 !
83. BREVITY. We must impress
upon our correspondents generally the
importance of brevity in their commu-
nications. A long letter, containing
frequent repetitions of the same subject,
however good the purport may be, is
often laid aside, from want of leisure to
examine and simplify the details.
Brevity is not only the soul of wit, but
it is the hinge of business, and an indis-
pensable requisite in letter -writing.
None valued this quality more highly
than Dr. Abernethy, who could also
appreciate it in another, as the following
anecdote proves : A woman, having
bui % nt her hand, called at his office.
Showing him her hand, she said "A
burn." " A poultice," quietly answered
the learned doctor. The next day the
woman returned and said "Better."
" Continue the poultice." In a week,
she made her last call, and her speech
was lengthened to three monosyllables :
"Well; your fee?" "Nothing!"
said the pleased physician ; " you are
the most sensible woman I ever saw !"
84. HINTS TO MOTHERS. If you
wish to cultivate a gossiping, meddling,
censorious* spirit in your children, be
sure when they come home from church,
a visit, or any other place where you do
not accompany them, to ply them with
194
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
questions concerning what everybody
wore, how everybody looked, and what
everybody said and did and if you fiud
anything iu all this to .<. n-uiv. always
do it in their hearing. You UK-,
assured, if you pursue a course of this
kind, they will nut return to you
unladen with intelligence ; and, rather
than it should be uninteresting, they
will by degrees learn to embellish in
such a manner as shall not fail to call
forth remarks and expressions of
wonder from you. You will, by this
course, render the spirit of curiosity
which ib so early visible in children,
and which, if rightly directed, may be
made the instrument of enriching and
enlarging their minds a vehicle of
mischief, which shall serve only to
narrow them.
85. MORNING PLEASURES.
Whoever is found in bed after six
o'clock, from May-day till Michaelmas,
cannot, in any conscience, expect to be
free from some ailment or other, de-
pendent on relaxed nerves, stuffed
lungs, disordered bile, or impaired
digestion. Nothing can be done ab-
solutely nothing if you do not rise
early, except drugging you with draughts
a luxury which the indolent morning
sleeper must prepare himself to pur-
chase dearly. We give him joy of his
choice bid him good bye, and spring-
ing out into the sunny air, we gather
health from every breeze, and become
young again among the glittering May
dew, and laughing May flowers. " What
a luxury do the sons of sloth lose ?"
says Harvey, in his Flowery Reflections
on a Flower Garden, " little, ah ! little,
is the sluggard sensible how great a
pleasure he foregoes, for the poorest of
all animal gratifications !" Be per-
suaded; make an effort to shake off the
pernicious habit. " Go forth," as King
Solomon says. " to the fields lodge in
the villages get up early to the vine-
yards ;" mark the budding flowers
listen to the joyous birds in a word,
cultivate morning pleasures, and health
and vigour will certainly follow.
86. DON'T TALK ABOUT YOUR-
SELF. Never introduce your own
affairs for the amusement of a com-
pany : it shows a sad want of mental
cultivation, excessive weakness of iutel-
lepul-
Some folks cannot tell a story,
relate au anecdote, or speak upon any
subject, without using the significant
pi-ououn / as, wluai / was a boy, /was
at the head of niy class, and / never
was surpassed /can dive dee|>er, /can
stay uu UT longer, and / can come up
dryer / can, than anybody else / ever
saw / can. / / think / am rather
keen, / do / do. Reader, what think
you of such a specimen ?
87. RESIN. It is said that a small
piece of resin dipped in the water which
is placed in a vessel on a stove (not an.
open fireplace), will add a peculiar
property to the atmosphere of the room,
which will give great relief to persons
troubled with a cough. The heat of
the stove is sufficient to throw off the
aroma of the resin, and gives the same
relief that is afforded by the combus-
tion, because the evaporation is more
durable. The same resin may be used
for weeks.
88. THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE
STREET. A free exposure to the light
and to the sun's influence has a great
effect in diminishing the tendency to
disease. The sunny side of the street
should always be chosen as a residence,
from its superior healthiness. It haa
been found in public buildings, &c.,
that those are always the most healthy
which are the lightest and sunniest.
In some barracks in Russia, it was found
that in a wing where no sun penetrated,
there occurred three cases of sickness,
for every single case which happened on
that side of the building exposed to the
sun's rays. All other circumstances
were equal such as ventilation, size of
apartments, number of inmates, diet,
&c. so that no other cause for this
disproportion seemed to exist. In the
Italian cities, this practical hint is well
known. Malaria seldom attacks the set
of apartments or houses which are freely
open to the sun, while on the opposite
side of the street, the summer and
autumn are very unhealthy, and even
dangerous.
89. COKE AS FUEL FOR DOMES-
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
195
TIC PURPOSES. The value of coke
for general use in private houses is
comparatively little known. When once
introduced, and the proper manner of
using it is understood, this kind of fuel
becomes almost indispensable. The
best kinds of Newcastle coal, to be kept
burning, require attention and frequent
applications of the poker A coke fire,
with the addition of a little small coal,
which, in any other way, would be
scarcely consumable, being properly
made, will burn for hours without
further attention or trouble, and at one-
third less cost than a fire sustained by
coal only. In the kitchen, coke is also
very valuable. It makes the clearest
fire for broiling, and a capital one for
roasting. In all cases, the coke should
be broken tolerably small.
90. COLOURS IN LADIES'
DRESS. Incongruity may be fre-
quently observed in the adoption of
colours without reference to their ac-
cordance with the complexion or stature
of the weai-er. We continually see a
light blue bonnet and flowers surround-
ing a sallow countenance, or a pink
opposed to one of a glowing red ; a pale
complexion associated with canary or
leinon yellow, or one of delicate red and
white rendered almost colourless by the
vicinity of deep red. Now, if the lady
with the glowing red complexion had
worn a transparent white bonnet, or if
the lady with the glosving red com-
plexion had lowered it by means of a
bonnet of a deeper red colour if the
pale lady had improved the cadaverous
hue of her countenance by surrounding
it with pale green, which, by contrast,
would have suffused with a delicate pink
hue ; or had the face
" "Whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on,"
been arrayed in a light blue, or light
green, or in a transparent white bonnet,
with blue or pink flowers on the inside,
how different, and how much more
agreeable, would have been the impres-
sion of the spectator ! How frequently,
again, do we see the dimensions of a tail
and embonpoint figure magnified to
almost Urobdignagian proportions by a
white dress, or a small woman reduced
to Lilliputian size by a black dress?
Now, as the optical effect of white is to
enlarge objects, and that of black to
diminish them, if the large woman had
been dressed in black, and the small
woman in white, the apparent size of
each would have approached the ordi-
nary stature, and the former would not
have appeared a giantess, or the latter a
dwarf.
91. TO MAKE COURT PLAIS-
TER. Procure a small frame, that of
an old school sixpenny-slate will suffice,
strain tightly over it, in every direction,
a piece of black silk. Prepare a size, by
dissolving thirty grains, by weight, of
the best small shred isinglass, in six
drachms, by measure, of common gin.
Set this on the hob in a tea cup, covered
over, to acquire heat. When the isin-
glass is quite dissolved add gradually
thirty drops of Friars' balsam (com-
pound tincture of benzoin), occasionally
stirring the fluid or size on every ad-
dition, with a strip of glass, or the small
end of an ivory spoon. Then take a
broad, flat, camel-hair pencil, such as is
used for the first wash of the sky in
water-colour drawings, and cover the silk
with a coating of the fluid ; then let it
dry in a warm room. Repeat the coat-
ing as often as the siik shall become
dry, and till the surface appears quitf
glossy. If the size shall be found iir
sufficient to finish the process, mort
must be prepared ; eight to twelve ap-
plications of the fluid, according to the
texture of the silk, will be required.
Should the size become too thick, a fey
drops more gin may be added.
92. THE PRODUCTION OF
VALUABLE MATTER FROM THE
MOST WORTHLESS MATERIALS.
Instances of this nature are constantly
occurring. The skins used by the gold-
beaters are produced from the offal of
animals. The hoofs of horses and cattle
and other horny refuse, are employed in
the production of the prussiate of pot-
ash that beautiful -yellow crystallised
salt which is exhibited in the shops of
some of our chemists. The worn-out
saucepans and tin-ware of our kitchens,
when beyond the reach of the tinker's
art, are not utterly worthless. We
196
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
sometimes me-'t carts, loaded with old
tin kettles and iron coal-scuttles, tra
versing our street. These have not yet
completed their useful course. The less
corroded parts are cut into strips,
punched with small holes, and varnished
with a coarse black varnish, for the use
of the trunkmaker who protects the
edges and angles of his boxes with them.
The remainder are conveyed to the
manufacturing chemists in the out-
skirts of the town, who employ them, in
conjunction with pyroligneous acid, in
making a black dye for the use of
calico printers.
93. EMBLEMATIC STONES. S.
TV. THE JEWELS OP THE MONTHS.
In Poland, according to a superstitious
belief, each month of the year is under
the influence of some precious stone,
which influence is attached to the
destiny of persons born during the
course of the month. It is, in conse-
quence, customary amongst friends, and
more particularly between lovers, to
make, on birthdays, reciprocal presents,
consisting of some jewel ornamented
with the tutelar stone. It is generally
believed that this prediction of happi-
ness, or rather of the future destiny,
will be realised according to the wishes
expressed on the occasion :
January. The stone of January is
the Jacinth, or Garnet, which denotes
constancy and fidelity in any sort of en-
gagement.
February. The Amethyst, a preserva-
tive against violent passions, and an as-
surance of peace of mind and sincerity.
March. The Bloodstone is the stone
of courage and wisdom in t>erilous un-
dertakings, and firmness in affection.
April. The Sapphire, or Diamond, is
the stone of repentance, innocence, and
kindliness of disposition.
May. The Emerald. This stone
signifies happiness in love, and domestic
felicity.
June. The Agate is the stone of
long life, health, and prosperity.
July. The Ruby, or Cornelian, de-
notes forgetfulness of, and exemption
from,, the vexations caused by friendship
aad love.
August. The Sardonyx. This stone
denotes conjugal felicity.
mber The Chrysolite is the
stone which preserves and cures mad-
ness and despair.
October. The Aqua-Marine, or Opal,
signifies distress and hope.
November. The Topaz signifies fide-
lity and friendship.
December. The Turquoise is the
stone which expresses great sureness and
prosperity in love, and in all the cir-
cumstances of life.
94. FACTS ABOUT MILK. -
Cream cannot rise through a great
depth of milk. If milk is therefore de-
sired to retain its cream for a time, it
should be put into a deep narrow dish,
and if it be desired to free it most com-
pletely of cream, it should be poured
into a broad, flat dish, not much ex
ceeding one inch in depth. The evolu-
tion of cream is facilitated by a rise, and
retarded by a depression of tempera-
ture. In wet and cold weather the milk
is less rich than in dry and warm ; and
on that account more cheese is obtained
in cold than in warm, though not in
Ihundery weather. The season has its
effects the milk in the spring is sup-
posed to be best for calves, in summer
it is best suited for cheese, and in au-
tumn the butter keeping better than
that of summer. Cows less frequently
milked than others give rich milk., and
consequently much better. The morn-
ing's milk is richer than the evening's.
The last drawn milk of each milking, at
all times and seasons, is richer than the
first drawn, which is the poorest.
LIVE FOR SOMETHING" Thousands
of men," says Chalmers, "breathe,
move, or live, pass off the stage
of life, and are heard of no more
Why ? they do not partake of good in
the world, and none were blessed by
them ; none could point to them as the
means of their redemption : not a line
they wrote, not a word they spake,
could be recalled ; and so they pf rished ;
their light went out in darkness and
they were not remembered more than
insects of yesterday. Will you thus
live and die, man immortal !
THE VALUE OF A GARDEN.
197
HINTS ON DRESS.
BY MRS. A. ADAMS.
WE have some warm weather now, and
with it some pretty costumes. Full
flounced thin dresses are very much
worn. Four, five, and eveu six flounces
on a skirt are very pretty, and for thin
material nothing else is seen. Some silk
dresses are made with three or four,
but the two wide flounces are still worn
on silk. Double skirts are worn, but
do not suit all figures ; they are elegant
for a certain style of figure if made
properly. Judgment is required. The
height of a lady must be considered.
Some double skirts are made far too
short ; they should be in most cases
only ten or twelve inches from the
bottom of the dress. It is ungraceful
when your skirt looks cut in two.
Double skirts for ball dresses are
always looped up ; sometimes all round
the trimming, a little way apart, or
else only in front, once or twice. For
a person of moderate height, four
flounces will look well, the lower part
of your jacket giving the skirt the ap-
pearance of five flounces. Light jackets
trimmed, are the still all the fashion ;
if in muslin or lace, a frill five inches
deep round the waist just full enough
to set easy is pretty. Frills to match
on sleeves. They are easy to wash, and
look well when done. Three frills on
the straight way of the material a little
way apart put on your sleeves, and do
not make them too full. The braces
on the jackets are still worn Cut
them the straight way of the material.
For walking dress, silk cloaks are
still worn, black and coloured, to make
a little change. This summer some
ladies are wearing a kind of gauze
shawl, black middle and coloured
borders, and a very graceful, pretty
effect they have. Black lace shawls
are much worn, and very elegant they
look. I know of nothing prettier or
more serviceable for any lady over the
age of twenty years. For young ladies
I should recommend lace cardinals, or
lace and ribbon mixed, a row of wide
black gauze ribbon and then a row of
lace, the lace not quite so wide as the
ribbon, but both the same width will
look very well. Have a paper pattern,
and put your rows round and round,
until you make your cape the proper
size ; press it with a moderate warm
iron ; when finished, your ribbon and
lace will both require gathering in
some places.
THE VALUE OP A GARDEN. I hold
that any farmer, who is worthy of tht-
name, will prepare a small plot of
ground for his' wife and daughters,
and that he will, out of love to them,
make it all they can wish or desire. It
is these little things that make home
pleasant and happy ; and it has been
the lack of these that has driven many
a loving heart out into the world and
away from a sterile barren home. Give
the wife and daughters a place to plant,
tend, and rear their flowers ; help them
if needs be, although it may take an
hour sometimes that is hard to spare,
and you will a thousand times bless
God for so ordering your mind that
you did it. What husband or father,
rugged though his nature may be, does
not fondly linger round a home made
so bright and cheerful by the fairy
hands of his wife and daughters, scat-
tering, as it were, in his way, the beau-
ties of their little plot ? What son or
brother ever forgets his home who has
found his room daily perfumed with
flowers which have been raised by the
hand of a fond mother or gentle loving
sisters, and placed there through the
Eromptings of their own affectionate
earts ? What daughter ever forgets
the home where she has cultivated her
little garden, and year after year been
so happy in the blossoms which have
been borne upon the plants she has
watered and tended with such patient
care ? Parents, brothers, sisters, the
dear old home all come back to her,
though years may have passed away in
the scent or bloom of every flower. The
family is seldom unhappy whose dwel-
ling is surrounded with shady trees,
and whose garden is gay with cultivated
plants. Do not, then, I beseech you,
forget the little flower-garden. Mr.
Peter's Address,
19S
BEAUTY IN MKN.
BEAUTY IN MEN.
" I CAN tell when a woman's face is
beautiful," said a friend to us the other
day, "but I don't know what you call
a handsome man."
We might have referred him to the
popular romances of the present day for
the description of manly beauty ; but
having little sympathy for those perfect
beings with expansive brows of snowy
whiteness, oblong, drooping, deep,
piercing blue, black, or grey eyes, finely
chiselled features, rich, wavy curls, and
all the minutiae of fancied perfection,
we simply said we believe there was no
particular standard of beauty recognised
among the ladies with reference to his
sex, and we think that in so saying we
were correct.
" I do not like a pretty man,
"With pretty lisp and pretty walk,
With hands that prettily sport a fan,
And delicate lips that prettily talk ;"
says a lady at our elbow, an interesting
and sensible one too.
We believe, as a general thing, ladies
do not like what are called pretty men ;
their style of face is too softly feminine ;
there is generally no break-up in the
monotony of expression, no sudden
gleam of joy, no flitting ray of thought ;
they are like a cloudless sky, which
needs here a massive array of dark
cloudsf there a broken line of fleecy
vapour, here a bright spot of brilliant
hue, there a pale azure, a soft, almost
imperceptible blending into the white
pure light that sometimes silvers our
northern heavens as with a dazzling
wreath, to make its beauty impressive
and lingering. A pretty man is too apt
to be mincing and affected ; his smile
is always sweetly interesting ; his whis-
kers he would not have them en-
croached upon a tenth of an inch for a
dozen little worlds like ours ; his repu-
tation is at stake should an unsightly
pimple obtrude its hideous outline upon
the fairness of his complexion.
Strong outlines of face, well-<l
brows, marked and prominent foi
any sort of eyes, so that they are capable
of being lighted up with the soul
these, with us, constitute a handsome
man, for the reason that rough, heavy
features, if they are not in any way de-
formed, are capable of the greatest play
of expression ; and expression, after all,
is the truest test, of beauty, for it cap-
tivates while it please.-^, and stamps it-
self upon the heart, not upon the ima-
gination. Do we not weary of the most
perfect picture? Even in a ntemplating
the cherished semblance of a friend, the
heart almost aches for a change ; a
frown would be preferable to that im-
movable placidity or unbending stern-
ness.
The frank, open countenance, cheer-
ful with the light of a sunshiny disposi-
tion ; the thoughtful, placid brow j
broad, or low lips, firm when in
thought, yet flexible and smiling in
conversation ; the goodness of a refined
nature illuminating every lineament '.
give us these, in preference to all your
set, fine faces. And even the irregular
features of what are called decidedly
plain men, we have seen glow with an
expression absolutely beautiful, as some
all-pei-vading theme of interest lighted
up the face, so that the coarse mouth,
the crooked nose, even the heavy shape-
less forehead, and the dull eyes have
caught a reflection of the inner loveli-
ness the beauty of the soul.
Then, gentlemen, remember it does
not need the air and face of an Adonis
to please and interest us ladies. Only
let us read upon the countenance the
stamp of a cultivated mind, or the
quick lighting up of the eye as some
generous impulse prompts to an act of
kindness ; let us behold you at once
dii-.nified and courteous, gentle and re-
fined to all alike, even to the erring 1 ,
delicate in your attentions (especially
to us ladies), unbending in your will
only when in the absolute rujht, gen-
tlemanly in your address, and neat
in person, and we will all those whose
opinion is of any value, ofcour.se -pro-
nounce you handsome, without a dis-
senting voice.
Remember that the qualities of the
heart and the actions of the life stamp
the features with an ineffaceable mark
either with goodness or vilem-ss ; and
cultivate those affections and habits,
ROTUNDITY OF THE EARTH.
199
which will write upon the tablets of your
countenance that which no one reading
can but love and admire.
THE CHEESEMITE.
THE Acarus domesticus, or common
mite, is of all the species the best
knovrn. It is foundin great abundance
upon old cheese, on dried or smoked
meat, on birds and insects in collections
of natural history, on old bread, and
dried up confectionary, which has been
kept too long. It is for this reason that
Degeer has named this species domestic.
He also observed some of these mires
in the flower-pots which he had in his
chamber. This insect, is almost invisible
to the naked eye; its colour is a dirty
white, bordering a little on the brown,
with two brown spots produced by the
internal parts appearing through the
skin, which is transparent. The body
is bristling with hairs, thick, oval, a
little narrowed in the middle ; its ante-
rior part is terminated in a cone, or a
sort of muzzle, containing the organs of
manducation. The mandibles h.ive
been distinguished ; the palpi are very
short andsetacious ; the skin is smooth
and tense ; the eight feet are rather long,
always curved towards the plane of
position, terminated by an oval piece,
transparent, and swelled like a small
bladder with a long neck, having in
front a sort of small cleft or separation.
The insect can impart to it all kinds of
inflections, swell and contract it. It
dilates it when walking, and contracts
it, so as to make it disappear, when the
foot does not touch the plane of position,
and is raised. The vessicle can be
folded in two in its length, by reason of
the cleft which we have just mentioned.
Each moiety is furnished with a small
hook, which enables the mite to fix itself
on the object upon which it walks. The
feet are of equal length, but the two
anterior pair are much thicker than the
two last. The numerous hairs with
which the body is bristled are barbed
on both sides, and what is singular is,
that the insect can move th^m on one
side or the other. " Each hair," says
Degeer, " must necessarily be attached
to, or have communication with, a
muscle, which gives it motion." What
marvellous mechanism in so small an
object ! These sort of prickles are
placed upon the body in regular order:
two are observed on the upper part of
its anterior extremity, which represent^
as it were, two small antennae. There
are some on the feet which are finer, and
on which Degeer has observed no barbs.
The females are larger than the males.
The female lays some oval eggs, very
white, and which appear to be reticu-
lated or spotted with brown. Leuwen-
hoe'k, who has particularly observed
this species, saw but six feet on the
little ones just disclosed.
ROTUNDITY OF THE EARTH.
FOR many ages mankind supposed the
earth to be a vast plain, bounded on
all sides by the sea and sky. They sup-
posed the sun, moon, and stars to be at
no great distance from the earth, and
that these moved daily from east to
west.
Though this was the belief of the
great mass of mankind, there were a
few attentive observers of the motions
of the heavenly bodies who thought the
earth to be round, like a ball ; but they
dared not tell their views, except in
secret, lest they should be persecuted,
and even endanger their lives.
It is only about three hundred years
since the true theory of the figure and
motion of the earth began to be
generally received. A few years pre-
vious to that period a person would
have been in danger of imprisonment
for life, or even of being put to death,
had he taught the opinion now held
concerning the shape of the earth.
We learn from history that the
learned Spegelius, of Upsal, in Sweden,
was burned at the stake because he
taught that the earth was round. Only
a little more than two centuries ago,
the celebrated Galileo was confined in
prison because he proclaimed that the
earth turned on ,its axis, and moved
around the sun.
Nicholas Copernicus, who was born
at Thorn, in Prussia, in 1473, was the
author of the theory of the Solar
system, which is now" received by all
200
ROTUNDITY OF THE EARTH.
enlightened nations. But he was
threatened banishment and even death
if he would not deny his belief, so pre-
judiced by ignorance were the minds of
that peri>d, Yet truth prevailed, and
in honour of its author the theory is
called the Copernican system.
How the ancients first became con-
vinced that the earth was round we have
no means of knowing; but we will here
give a few facts and observations which
prove it to be a globe :
1. Persons have sailed around the
world, and come back to the place from
which they started, as a fly would do
by crawling around an apple. But,
since there are so many continents and
islands to obstruct a direct passage, it
may not appear plain to some how sail-
ing around the world will prove any-
thing about its shape.
That this may be better understood,
we will suppose a vessel to start from
Rio Janeiro, in South America, and sail
directly east. In a few weeks it would
come to the western coast of Africa.
Now navigators carry with them a com-
pass and other instruments by which
they can always tell the course they
are sailing, and how far they move in
any direction.
On arriving at the coast of Africa, the
captain changes the course of his vessel
and sails south until he has passed the
Cape of Good Hope ; then he goes east
again till he gets beyond Africa, when
he turns toward the north and sails as
far as he had gone south, which will
bring him in a direct line east of his
starting-place.
He will now continue his course east-
ward, till coming to Australia; and
after sailing around that, in a like man-
ner, to a point directly east of Rio
Janeiro, will again proceed in an
easterly direction, and at length arrive
at the western coast of South America.
Then, by sailing south, around Cape
Horn, and going north again, he will
arrive at the place from which he
started.
It is by thus making allowances for
the land which is sailed around, that
the navigator knows he has continued
in one general direction. Once it was
considered an extraordinary act to have
sailed around the world, but now many
persons return every year from such
a voyage. The time thus required is
from one to two years.
2. When a ship goes out to sea, we
first lose sight of the hull, or body of
the ship ; then of the sails and lower
rigging, and lastly of the masts. When
a ship approaches the land, the top of
the mast is seen first, then the lower
parts of the vessel gradually appear.
If the earth were an extended plain,
the largest parts of the ship, when
leaving the shore, would be seen last,
and on approaching laud these would be
seen first.
If a person stands on the deck of a
vessel when leaving the shore, the land
and less elevated objects are first lost
sight of, and the steeples and highest
parts of all objects are seen last. Now
these appearances are the same in every
part of the world, which man has
visited, hence it follows that the earth
is regularly curved on all sides.
3. When the moon is eclipsed, it is
darkened by passing through the
earth's shadow. This shadow, as seen
on the surface of the moon, is always
of a circular form, such as a round ball
would make.
4. If we stood on the equator, the
north star would be in the horizon,
where the earth and sky seem to meet.
On going twenty degrees to the north,
this star would appear to have arisen
twenty degrees above the horizon.
If we proceeded forty-five degrees
north, this star would appear forty-five
degrees above the horizon, and so on.
The reverse would be the case on going
south again. Then the stars in the
north would sink and new ones rise in
the south.
These changes prove that the earth
is round from north to south, as they
could not occur were it otherwise.
The first-mentioned observation proves
that the earth is round from east to
west ; the second shows its general
convexity; and all combined afford
convincing proofs that the earth is
round like a ball.
LIFE'S PROGRESS.
201
LIFE'S PROGRESS.
" We bring our years to an end as it were a
tale that is told." Psalms.
CHILD ! that so securely clingest
To thy mother's side,
And thine arm around her flingeat,
Lest some harm betide !
Thou who art so archly smiling,
Void of care thy brow ;
No wrong thought thy soul defiling
Child, how old art thou ?
And the child look'd up with a face of
glee,
Which beam'd with a smile of ecstacy ;
But his lisping tongue no words express'd,
As he closer clung to his mother's breast :
And the guileless glance of that sinless
eye
Was all the innocent one's reply.
3oy ! that mournfully art creeping
To thy tasks to-day,
And to-morrow high art leaping
On thy joyous way ;
Thou whose every thought is bounded
By the present now ;
Thy prospects , 11 by hope surrounded,
Boy, how old art thou ?
And the boy answer'd haughtily,
And his bosom swell'd perceptibly :
" Call me not Boy I am in my teens,
And long hava forgotten my childhood's
scenes ;
And five brief years will soon be gone,
Then hail ! all hail to twenty-one !
Hurrah! for the day that shall set me
free,
When none shall dare to dictate to me!"
Man ! that through the crowded city
Passest in thy prime,
Doling forth superfluous pity
To the sons of Time ;
Thou, whose half of life is wasted,
Unredeem'd thy vow;
Religion's waters scarcely tasted
Man, how old art thou ?
And the man replied abstractedly,
In a voice that sounded remorsefully :
" Oh ! ask me not the days are past,
That I vainly thought for aye would last !
The plans that I form'd in my early years,
Have brought to me only griefs and tears ;
And those whom in youth I did most de-
spise,
Have been lifted up in the nation's eyes.
Whilst, unimproved, the powerful sway
Of my forty summers hath pass'd away !"
Grey-hair'd, old ! that totterest weakly
'Cross thy chamber floor,
Drinking sounds, benign and meekly,
Soon thou'lt hear no more ;
Thou whom " mere oblivion"' ahroudeth.
Whose last days are now,
Ere "sans speech" upon thee crowdeth,
Say, how old art thou ?
And the grey-hair'd man essay'd to speak,
And a tear pass'd over his wither'd cheek ;
But there came no sound he bow'd his
head
His age untold, he was with the dead !
A WOMAN AS SHE SHOULD BE.
IN person decent and in dress,
Her manners and her words express
The decency of mind ;
Good humour brightens up her face,
Where passion never leaves a trace,
Nor frowns a look unkind :
No vexing sneer, no angry word,
No scandal from her lips is heard
Where truth and sweetness blend ;
Submissive to her husband's will,
Her study is to please him still,
His fond and faithful friend ;
She watches his returning way,
When from the troubles of the day
He seeks an hour of bliss
She runs to meet him with a smile,
And if no eye be near the while,
The smile is with a kiss !
HOPE.
LET none look back on darker years,
Where Hope's lone star had set ;
But let us e'er pursue the right,
And all the wrong forget.
Let none despair, for brighter hours
Will surely come at last ;
And thousands yet will hail the day,
When sorrowing scenes are past
PLEASURES.
PLEASURES are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed ;
Or like the snow-falls in the rive ,
A moment white then melts for ever ;
Or like the borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place :
Or like the rainbow's lovely form
Evanishing amid the storm
Nae man can tether time or tide. Burns.
Call not that man wretched, who,
whatever ills he suffers, has a child to
love.
302
BEARDS AND SHAVING.
KINDNESS.
IT is said that bees and wasps will nt
sting a person whose skin is imbued
with houey. Hence those who an-
much exposed to the venom of these
little creatures, when they have occasion
to hive bees, or take a nest of wasps,
smear their face and hands with honey,
which is found to be the best preserva-
tive. When we are annoyed with insult,
persecution, and oppression, from per-
verse and malignant men, the best
defence against their venom is to have
the spuit bathed in honey. Let eveiy
part be saturated with meekness, gen-
tleness, forbearance, and patience, and
the most spiteful enemy will be disap
pointed in his endeavours to iuflict a
sting. We shall remain uninjured,
while his venom returns to corrode his
own malignant bosom ; or what is far
better, the honey with which he crimes
in contact will neutralise his hatred,
and the good returned for evil will
overcome evil with good.
BEARDS AND SHAVING.
CONNECTED with the subject of beards,
there is much that is curious and in-
teresting. The difference which the
beard exhibits in different countries
would alone form a curious matter for
inquiry. It is the cherished appendage
of soi ne nations, the despised excrescen ce
of others ; some have it in profusion,
others are almost without it. In hot
countries, the beard is dark, dry, hard,
and thin; in cold, thick, curling, and
light in colour. Poor, dry, and indiges-
tible food, renders the beard hard and
bristly ; while wholesome and digestible
nutriment makes it soft.
Civilised life appears to be most
favourable for producing luxuriant
beards. Savages are seldom furnished
with large ones ; though there is, per-
haps, no people, however savage, upon
whose chins a few stunted and stray
hairs do not appear. At one time it
was believed that the Indians were
naturally destitute of beards ; but
stricter inquiry has since shown that
they pull out, root and branch, the
scanty supply of hair with which their
chins are furnished. In this they are
not alone; and it may be generally
stated, that those on whose faces no
culture can raise a decent beard, con-
sider the little they possess a deformity
of which they would be well rid.
Excepting the Greeks and Romans,
all the nations of antiquity appear to
have prized and cultivated the beard.
Even in Greece, it was worn until
Alexander's time, and in Rome, until
800 B.C. In both nations beards were
retained by the philosophers and priests
long after they were given up by
the mass of the people. Among the
Egyptians, on the other hand, it was
the priests that shaved, and that not
only in the face, but the head and the
whole body. In times of mourning,
however, they let their beards grow;
and so did the Romans, after they be-
came a shaven people ; while the Greeks,
in the time of beards, on similar occa-
sions, were accustomed to shave. After
the abolition of beards, among the Ro-
mans a long beard became a token of
its owner's being a slave. On the other
hand, the Franks who were a bearded
nation, ordered all bondsmen to shave
the chin.
In the middle ages, beards were gene-
rally in high esteem. Among the early
French monarchs, it was the custom to
attach three hairs of the sovereign's
beard to the seal of all important offi-
cial documents, which probably became
so numerous as to threaten the royal
beard with extinction, and the custom
was abolished.
The natives of Europe, generally
speaking, are now a shaven people, while
the Asiatics are as generally bearded.
Among Asiatics, the Persians have the
finest and best cultivated beards ; we
shall, therefore, bestow a few remarks
upon Persian beards. The Persians, in
early times, paid extreme attention to
their beards. According to Chrysostom,
their kings had them interwoven with
gold thread. During one dynasty, how-
ever, only moustachios were allowed.
But at the present time, the ancient
zeal for them has revived, and the king
has a magnificent specimen one reach-
ing to the waist, and claiming the admi-
ration and adoration of his numerous
ONE.
203
subjects. Naturally, the beards of the
Persians grow to a larger size than those
of any other people. Mostly, they
arc black by nature ; but the practice of
dyeing, either to strengthen the inten-
sity of the black, or to give that colour
where it does not exist, is universal.
The operation of dyeing is both tedious
and painful, and must be undergone
every fortnight. Ib is always performed
in the hot bath, as the hair is then satu-
rated, and takes the colour better. At
first, the beard is plastered over with
a thick paste of henna, which, after re-
maining for about an hour, is washed
away, leaving the beard of a deep orange
colour, bordering on that of brick dust.
Many of the common people are so cap-
tivated by the meteoric appearance of
the beards produced by this first appli-
cation, that they decline having it
changed to black. In the second opera-
tion, another paste, made from the leaf
of the indigo, is applied in the same
manner, and allowed to remain for
two hours, after which the patient leaves
the bath, graced with a dark, bottle-
green beard, which in the course of
twenty -four hours, becomes a jet black.
Throughout all this, the patient is
obliged to lie on his back ; while the
dye, in the application of the second
preparation, causes the lower part of his
face to smart and burn, and contracts
the features in a most mournful manner.
The whole operation is one of great deli-
cacy, and often results in a purple or
parti-coloured beard.
The comparative advantages and pro-
priety of shaving, and of permitting the
beard to grow, it is not easy to determine.
Much has been said that is good for both
sides ; yet, after all, it seems more a
matter of taste than anything else.
The practice of shaving probably ori-
ginated at first from its being found
that the beard afforded too good a hold
to an enemy in battle ; and for this
cause shaving was originally practised
among the Greeks, who continued in
it until Justinian's time, when long
beards carne again into fashion, and so
remained until Constantinople was taken
by the Turks. The Romans appear to
have derived the custom of shaving
from the Sicilians, who were of Greek
origin ; and the refinement of daily
shaving was first introduced by no less a
personage than Scipio Africanus. At the
close of the Republic beards were rare;
and some of the Emperors lived in great
fear of having their throats cut by their
barbers. For the sake of hiding the
scars on his face, the Emperor Hadrian
wore a beard, and this of course brought
that appendage again into use ; but the
custom did not long survive him.
Among the Romans, shaving did not
commence with the appearance of the
hair ; the youth was permitted to raise
a small beard which was shorn for the
first time with great ceremony. Persons
of rank had the operation performed for
their sons by men of rank higher than
themselves ; and by this act such per-
son became the youth's adopted father.
The day was kept as a festival, visits
were paid to the young man, and he re-
ceived presents from his friends. The
first crop of beard was solemnly conse-
crated, generally, to the household gods.
ONE.
ONE hour lost in the morning by lay-
ing in bed will put back all the business
of the day.
One hour gained by early rising is
worth one month of labour in a year.
One hole in the fence will cost ten
times as much as it will to fix it at
once.
One diseased sheep will spoil a flock.
One unruly animal will learn all
others in company bad tricks.
One drunkard will keep a family
poor and make them miserable.
One wife that is always telling how
fine her neighbour dresses, and how
little she can get, will look pleasanter
if she talks about something else.
One husband that is penurious or
lazy, and deprives his family of neces-
sary comforts, such as their neighbours
enjoy, is not as desu-able a husband as
he oujjht to be. '
One kind word may turn aside a tor-
rent of auger.
One doubt may lead to disbelief.
One glass of wine is better than two
One is God aloue.
20*
ENGLISH NAMES.
ENGLISH NAMES.
NAMES were first used amongst men
for distinction. The Jews gave names
at their circumcision, the Romans on
the ninth day after their children's
birth, and the Christians at their bap-
tism; which names were generally in-
tended to denote the future good wishes
or hope of parents toward their chil-
dren.
English names of baptism are gene-
rally either Saxon as Edmund, Ed-
ward, Edwin, Gilbert, Henry, Leonard,
Robert, Richard, Walter, William, &c. ;
or from the Bible and Testament as
Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, John, Thomas,
James, &c. ; or it sometimes consists of
the mother's surname, or occasionally
of two Christian names, which is still
customary in other countries, especially
in Germany.
The French called names superadded
to the Christian names, surnames, that
is, super nomina.
The Hebrews, Greeks, and other
nations of antiquity, did not affix sur-
names to their families, but counted
thus : for example, the Hebrews,
Melchi Ben Addi, Addi Ben Casam, &c. ;
the Welsh, Hugh ap Owen, Owen ap
ilhese ; the Irish, Neal mac Con, Con
mac Dermoti, &c.
As Christian names were given to
distinguish persons, so surnames were
used for the distinction of families.
About A.D. 1000, the French began
to take surnames, with de prefixed for
a place, and le prefixed for some other
qualifications. The English also
adopted the use of surnames, but it
was not until the reign of Edward the
First that they became general.
Offices of honour have given rise to
many surnames ; for example, the
Duke of Ormond and his descendant
took the surname of Butler, their
ancestor, Edward Fitz-Theobald, having
been made Butler of Ireland ; and
again, John, Count Tanquerville, of
Normandy, being made chamberlain to
the King of England, about six hun-
dred years since, his descendants still
bear the same coat of arms, by the
name of Chamberlain.
At first the English gentry took the
names of their birthplaces, or habita-
tions, for surnames, as Thomas of
Aston, or East-town ; John of Sutton,
or South-town ; and, as they altered
their habitation, so they changed their
surname. When they afterwards
became the lords of manors, they staled
themselves Thomas Aston of Aston,
John Suttou of Sutton.
Among the Saxons, the common
people added for surname their fathers'
names, with son at the end thereof
as Thomas Johnson, Robert Richard-
son. They often took their fatln-r'.-
nickname, or abbreviated name, with
the addition of an 5, as Gibs, the nick-
name of Gilbert ; Hobs, of Robert ;
Nick, of Nicholas ; Bates, of Bartholo-
mew ; Sams, of Samuel ; Hodges, of
Roger : whence Gibson, Hobsou,
Nickson, Batson, Sampson, Hodson,
&c. Many were surnamed from their
trades, as Smith, Joyner, Weaver,
Walker, Goff, &c. ; or from their em-
ployments, as Porter, Steward, Shep-
herd, Carter, Spencer, Cook, Butler,
Kemp ; or from their places of abode,
as Underwood, Underbill, jjso Atwood,
Atwell, Athill ; or from their coloui's
or complexions, as Fairfax, Pigot,
Blunt, or Bland; and fiom birds and
beasts, as Arundel, Corbet, Wren,
Finch, Woodcock, Lamb, Fox, Moyle, &c.
The Norman descendants in this
country, about 200 years after the
Conquest, also took their fathers'
Christian names for surnames, with
Fi'z or Fils prefixed, as Robert Fitz-
William, Henry Pitz-Gerard; afterwards
Williamson, Gerardsou, &c.
The Welsh were the last to adopt
surnames, which they did chiefly by
dropping the a in ap, and annexing the
consonant to their fathers' Christian
names ; as, instead of E an ap Rice,
Evan Price ; and for ap Howel, Powel :
ap Hughe, Pughe; ap Rogers, Pro-
gers, &c.
The most ancient families in this
country are such as have taken their
surnames from places iu Normandy, or
England and Scotland, as Evreng,
Chawort, Seymour, Nevil, Moir
Mohun, Biroa, Bruges, Clifford, Berkley,
Arcy, Stourton, Morley, Courtney,
CONTRAST; OR, ORDER AND DISORDER.
205
Grandison, Hastings, &c., which for-
merley had de prefixed, but now made
one word, as Devereuac, Darcy, &c.
(See Enquire Within, 140.)
CONTRAST; OR, ORDER AND
DISORDER.
CAPTAIN WIDEOPEN'S house stands in a
broad street that runs for a mile iu
length through the village of Decay.
It 'S an old farm-house one story high,
with its gable end to the street. In
front of the house is the wood-pile,
spread out so as to cover a rood of
ground. As you pass by, the barn,
cow-house, and yard, with its deep mo-
rass of manure in high flavour, salute
the eye and nose. The pig-pen, wide
open and in full view, is between the
house and barn. In a warm day the
congregation of vapours is overwhelm-
ing. The well, the wash-shed, the
wood-shed, are all in full view to the
passers by. The space around the front
door is defiled by the pigs, who root
and grunt there by day, and by the
geese, who roost there by night.
Thus, all the unsightly and unseemly
objects are spread out to view, and the
scene is embellished by the addition of
broken sleighs, sleds, ploughs, waggons,
carts, old posts, &c. There lies a shape-
less heap of stones ; yonder is a gate
with one hiuge, which will soon be
broken for want of care. Here is a
pair of bars thrown down ; there the
stone wall has tumbled over !
Such is the scene presented by the
residence of a wealthy, respectable
farmer in New England; and I am
sorry to say that there are hundreds,
nay, thousands, like it in Old England !
ay, in Old England ! Not that every
village is a Decay, or every farmer a
Wideopen. No ! some of our villages
are delightful, and some of our country
people are patterns of good order and
neatness. But I am speaking of those
who are not so. And if these pages
should come into the hands of any
person, iu Old England or out of it,
who is ignorant of the advantages of
neatness ami order, let me urge upon
him, as worthy of immediate attention,
the following remarks, drawn from ob-
servation and experience :
1. A man whose house, like Captain
Wideopen's, is out-of-doors marked by
disorder, confusion, and want of clean-
liness, is generally the same in-doors.
2. Where there is confusion and want
of neatness, though there may be plenty
of bread, butter, milk, cheese, fuel,
clothing, and other necessaries, there
is little comfort, little thrift, little good-
nature, little kindness, little religion,
little beauty, little peace or happiness.
3. Children brought up in the midst
of confusion and want of cleanliness,
are likely to be low, vulgar, and vicious
in their tastes, and in their character.
Let fathers and mothers consider that,
if they bring up their children in this
way, they are schooling them to be
drunkards, profane, mean, base, wicked,
and despised; that the schooling of
home is the most lasting of all school-
ing ; that the ferule of the schoolmaster
cannot efface \\hat the father and
mother have taught ; that the preacher
cannot destroy the die stamped upon
the young heart at home by parental
example ! Look to this, ye fathers and
mothers ; and if for your own sakes ye
are indifferent to neatness and order,
for the sake of the young immediately
around you be no longer so.
4. There is a certain tendency, in the
want of order and neatness, to cause
ruin and waste ; consequently a man
who, like Captain Wideopen, allows
things to go on in this way, generally
gets poorer and poorer, till at length
mortgages, embarrassment, debt, losses,
and the law, bring him to poverty.
5. Neatness and good order contri-
bute to health, wealth, and happiness ;
while opposite habits tend to disease,
misery, poverty, vice, and short life.
Let us now turn to another scene.
The village of Thrivewell is also a New
England village, and is remarkable for
its pleasant, cheerful aspect. Every
person who rides through it is de-
lighted ; and the place has such a repu-
tation, that the land is worth more,
and the houses will sell for more, than
in almost any other place of the kind
you can name. And this arises from
VALUE OF GOOD WIVES.
the good taste, neatness, and orde-
which characterise the inhabit tints. I
will give you a sketch of the h<>use be-
longing to Captain John 1'
a careful, correct, upright man, uho
has risen from poverty to ease and
competence, by industry, economy, and
}ru(k:
His house stands three or four rods
back from the street; the front yard is
green, grassy, and decorated with hand-
some trees. The wood-pile is fenced
in ; the barn-yard, pig-pen, &c., are also
tidily fenced. It is a favourite proverb
with Pepperidge, that there should be a
<plac6 for everything, and that everything
should be in its place. This is his great
maxim ; and he not only observes it
himself, but he requires eveiy man,
woman, and child about him to observe
it sJso. He says it saves him one hun-
dred pounds a year.
He has other rules, such as a stitch
in lime saves nine ; thus, as soon as a
stone falls off the wall, he puts it up ;
when a rail gets out of the fence, he
replaces it ; when a gate is broken, it is
forthwith repaired ; if a clapboard is
loose, a nail clenches it. Thus, matters
are kept tight and tidy. On a wet day,
ijastead of going to the tavern, he spends
the time in making little repairs. At
odd moments of leisure, he sets out
treae and shrubs ; thus, year by year,
beautifying his place, and rendering it
not only more comfortable, but also
worth more money in case he should
ever desire to sell it.
Farmer Pepperidge takes great plea-
sure, and perhaps a little innocent pride,
in his place, though, to say the truth,
it is by no means costly. He loves
better to spend his time in making it
more convenient and pleasant, in set-
ing out trees, improving the grounds,
mending the fences, &c., than in going
about to talk politics, or gossip upon
other people's business, or in haunting
a tavern bar-room. In short, bis home
is comfortable, pleasant, delightful. It
is aeat and orderly, inside and out.
And he has made it so; though his
wife, having happily caught the influ-
ence of his example, contributes her
share to the good work. His children
ai-f wHl dressed, well educated, well
behaved. Can such a man be a drunk-
ard ? Can he be vicious? Can he be
wicked ? Who has so good a chance of
health, wealth, and happiness? Who
so likely to be respected by his neigh-
bours ? Who so likely to do good by
hie influence and example ? Come, Cap-
tain Wideopen, I pray you, ami learn
a lesson of Farmer Pepperidge !
Let us look at the practical effect of
Pepperidge's example. Formerly, the
village of Thrivewell was called Uneasy
Swamp, and was inhabited by a set of
people becoming the name. They were
poor, ignorant, idle, and uneasy. They
were jealous of all rich people, and con-
sidered the unequal distribution of pro-
perty a dreaful evil. They were equally
jealous of the wise, and considered the
unequal distribution of knowledge a
nuisance to be abated. They were also
jealous of the virtuous, and hated no-
thing so much as a just and honest
man. In short, they were, half a can-
tury ago where some conceited, but
ignorant and ill-minded people are
now willing to level every body and
thing to their own standard. If a can-
didate for office was up, who addressed
their prejudices, and coaxed them with
promises, though meaning to cheat
them, he was the man for them. If
he was known to be mean, slippery,
and unprincipled, fellow-feeling seemed
to render them kind, and the more ar-
dently they espoused his cause. Such
was Uneasy Swamp ; a place which may
have its images still in some parts of
the country.
VALUE OF GOOD WIVES.
WE are not about to write a homily on
the duty of our wives ; our sex have
more frequently done this than pointed
out the duty of husbands duties which,
we fear, are fully as often neglected as
those of the wife. We commenced this
article to remind men that they have
no friend so entirely true to their in-
terest as the wife. It is, therefore,
more safe at all times to advise and
counsel with our \ eat friend, in prefer-
ence to those who are less interested in
WORDS TO WORKMEN.
207
our welfare. A distinguished man
once said that he never prospered in
any enterprise where he had acted
against the advice of his wife. Misf r-
tunes, or the result of bad speculations,
always bear on her most heavily. Her
interests are inseparably identified with
his own. The ready perception and
timid caution of woman make her,
especially to the impulsive and adven-
turous, peculiarly qualified to check
the rash and impetuous act. Many a
man whose fortunes are broken, would
have been in a happy and prosperous
condition, had he listened to the better
counsels of the now afflicted partner of
his troubles. A true-hearted wife is
also our best friend in adversity, even
when imprudence, incapacity, or even
folly or perhaps our vices, have brought
it upon us. Instead of reproaching
him, she clings to and encourages him :
her words of comfort and good cheer
revive his hopes and his courage, and
lie is often able to retrieve his fortunes.
At worst, with such a friend, he holds
up his head, and grapples manfully
the difficulties of his lot. His position
in society may be more or less reversed ;
and those who flattered and looked up
to him, may now pass him by coldly.
A heartless world leaves him to his
fate, or he may even be sneered at and
frowned upon by those whom he once
considered too mean and unworthy to
be admitted to his society. However
cold aud heartless these, he is sure he
has one dear friend ; one bosom, one
heart is true to him ; that friend is the
wife. After the toils of the day, after
perhaps being buffeted off by those
who were his sunshine friends, how re-
viving to his sinking spirits to mingle
his soul with the dear one who has
clung to him in weal and woe. What
a cordial are her words of comfort, when
all without is dark ! In this hour of
darkness, surely, she is to him God's
messenger of mercy. While the true-
hearted wife is all this and more to her
husband, do we do well in all important
matters not to consult so interested and
faithful a friend? We repeat what
we before said the wife is our own
.safest and best adviser. The family is
a little state ! let those at the head of
this little state mature all their plans
by mutual, kindly, and wise counsels,
and there will be fewer wrecks of the
hopes of individuals and of families.
Husbands, you will lose nothing, but
gain much, by trusting more to that
dearest and best of all earthly friends,
the person whom you have selected from
all the world to be your life-long com-
panion. Sir Walter Scott, and the
great Irish orator, Daniel O'Connell, at
a late period of their lives, ascribed
their success in the world principally
to their wives. Were the truth known,
theirs is the history of thousands.
WORDS TO WORKMEN.
No sensible person of the working (or
any other) classes will envy the higher
ranks the enjoyment of luxuries
champagne and the like ; things which
the best men of all ages have been.
without, many even by premeditation,
and the awe of the deleterious effects of
stimulants, &c. Neither can we be-
grudge the higher ranks their exemp-
tion from toil and labour an assump-
tion only gratuitous and exceptional,
for who eats his bread more in the
sweat of his brow than the wealthy or
noble sportsman? the traveller fofc
science or art's sake in distant climesf
the over- worked and fagging state*
man and financier ? Or shall we envy
them their spacious dwellings, knowing
that Goethe (though not poor) mostly-
lived in one room, in which there was
no sofa, and reposed in a small iron-
framed bedstead? Or shall we envy
them the slakeness and tidiness of
their occupation, which they often
perform without " wetting their feet?'
This preference also will, on closer
examination, be found illusory, con-
sidering, for instance, the dire occupa-
tion of medical men, work so ominous
both physically and morally, that we
will not dwell on it any further.
What working' men may really envy
the higher ranks for is, then, the quiet
and orderly way in which they (mostly)
perform their work; the quiet and
comfort, in fine, they enjoy after that
work is done Both, we say, are at
08
INTRODUCTION OF VEGETABLES.
the command of the working-men of
the present time, if they chose to think,
to reflect, and to act judiciously and
prudently essential attribute", after
all, of humanity ; and any one, in fact,
who does not possess them, places him-
self forcibly out of that pale he still
wills or means to reach. First, then,
every person ought really to possess
that qualification (profession) he even-
tually professes to be capable of. Do
you wish to obtain the reward (wages)
of skilled men ? Be such, and then the
world will belong to the courageous.
We do not speak of that dogged cou-
rage of the battle-field, but that energy
of life and exertion to which after all,
we repeat, the world belongs. Will
you possess the external rewards of
the higher ranks of society ; take them
at once by acquiring their internal
stamina and impulses. Act judiciously,
prudently, and with skill, and you will
surely be raised, because it is a curious ;
observation, that men (mostly) soon ;
cease to do that work they perfectly and i
eminently are able to perform, and rise
to that which is above it ! Of course, j
this has its limits, the centripetal force j
controls the expansive one, and wisely I
ordained it is.
But let us reflect on the quiet and
comfort the higher classes enjoy in their
leisure hours at home; and so can the
thinking human-like workman. It is
not the range of rooms we may occupy
which makes men happy, but the com-
fort of that one or two he actually
uses and dwells in. That regularity,
tidiness, systematicity which a sensible
man displays in his work, he mostly
transfers and conveys home. Clever
men of all ranks have done wonders
also in this respect. When the chemist
Scheele had become famous all over
the world, and visitors were anxious to
see his laboratory, where he had made
such great discoveries, he led them
to a few shelves and cupboards of his
room, a few furnaces placed outside the
windows, when and wherewith all
these grand things had been accom-
plished all orderly, all tending and
arranged for one purpose and end. The
dwellings of the industrious classes
have, ot late, become a matter of States'
attention in most parts of Europe. If
working men will have respect for their
places of abode, they will not hiiv
any human-unworthy habitation. Surely
architects and landlords will soon be-
come aware and alive to that ; and so
also may be the internal arrangement
of their dwellings " the luxury of
order, cleanliness, tidiness," &c. To
conclude, the man who will prosper in
life, must make himself capable of being
prosperous.
INTRODUCTION OF VEGETABLES,
FLOWERS, &c., INTO ENGLAND.
THE advantages arising from the explo-
ration of foreign regions are scarcely to
be enumerated. To the discovery of
America by the illustrious Columbus^
we owe the introduction of that truly
useful root, the potato. The pear, the
peach, the apricot, and the quince, were
respectively brought into Europe from
Epirus, Carthage, Armenia, and Syria,
and by degrees into England. Cherries
are of very ancient date with us, being
conveyed into Britain from Rome, A.D.
55. In the King of Saxony's museum,
at Dresden, there is a cherry-stone, upon
which, aided by a microscope, more
than a hundred faces can be distin-
guished. Dr. Oliver was shown a
cherry-stone in Holland with one hun-
dred and twenty-four heads upon it ; and
all so perfect, that every one might be
seen with the greatest ease by the naked
eye. Melons were originally brought
from Armenia. According to Mr. An-
drews, fruit was very rare in England in
t'.ie reign of King Henry VII. ; that
gentleman informs us that apples weiv
then not less than one or two shillings
each; a red rose, two shillings; and
that a man and woman received eight
shillings and fourpence for a small
quantity of strawberrias. Cabbages,
carrots, &c., were introduced about the
year 1547. Previous to this period,
Queen Catharine of Arragon, first con-
sort of Henry VIII., when she wanted a
salad, was compelled to send to Holland
or Flanders on purpose. Alout thi.-
time, apricots, gooseberries, pipping au<l
SPIDER'S THREAD.
artichokes, were first cultivated. The
currant-tres came from Zante, and was
planted in England, A.D. 1533. Coss-
lettuces were brought from the island of
Cos, near Rhodes, in the Mediterranean.
Asparagus, beans, peas, and cauliflowers,
were introduced in the beginning of the
reign of Charles II. Nor can we claim
the jessamine, the lily, the tulip, &c.
&c. ; for the jessamine came from the
East Indies ; the lily and the tulip from
the Levant; the tube-rose from Java
and Ceylon ; the carnation and pink
from Italy ; and the auricula from
Switzerland. Thus it appeal's that nuts,
acorns, crabs, and a few wild berries,
were almost all the variety of vegetable
food indigenous to our island.
SPIDER'S THREAD.
IN the introduction to entomology, by
Kirby and Spence, there is a very cu
rious description of the process by
which the spider weaves its web. After
describing the four spinners, as they are
termed, from which the visible threads
proceed, the writer goes on to mention
that these are the machinery through
which, by a process more singular than
that of rope-spinning, the thread is
drawn. Each spinner is pierced, like
the plate of a wire-drawer, with a multi-
tude of holes, so numerous and exqui-
sitely fine, that a space often not bigger
than a pin's point includes above a thou-
sand. Through each of these holes pro-
ceeds a thread, of an inconceivable te-
nuity, which, immediately after issuing
from the orifice, unites with all the
other threads, from the same spinner,
into one. Hence from each spinner
proceed ; a compound thread ; and these
four threads, at the distance of about
one-tenth of an inch from the apex of
the spinner, again unite, and form the
thread we are accustomed to see, which
the spider uses in forming its web.
Thus, a spider's web, even spun, by the
smallest species, and when so fine that
it is almost imperceptible to our senses,
is not, as wo suppose, a single line, but
a rope composed of at least four thou
sand, strands. But to feel all the won-
ders of this fact, we must follow Leu-
wenhoek in one of his calculations on
the subject. This renowned microscopic-
observer found, by an accurate estima-
tion, that the threads of the minutest
spiders, some of which are not larger than
a grain of sand, are so fine that four mil-
lions of them would not exceed in
thickness one of the hairs of his beard.
Now we know that each of these threads
is composed of above four thousand still
finer. It follows, therefore, that above
16,000 millions of the finest threads
which issue from such spiders are not,
altogether, thicker than a human hair.
It has long been a question among philo-
sophers, whether it is possible to render
the labours of the spider subservient to
the benefit of mankind. In the earlier
part of last century, Bon, of Languedoc,
fabricated a pair of stockings and a pair
of gloves from the threads of spiders.
They were nearly as strong as silk, and
of a beautiful grey colour. The preda-
cious habits of these animals, however,
would seem to oppose an effectual
barrier to their being bred up in suffi-
cient numbers to render such a manufac-
tory at all productive. The following
arguments against the probability of any
permanent or real advantage resulting
from this attempt, were published by
Reaumur, whom the Royal Academy
had deputed to inquire into the matter.
The natural fierceness of spiders renders
them uufit to be bred and kept together.
Four or five thousand being distributed
in cells, fifty in some, one or two hun-
dred in others, the big ones soon killed
and eat the smaller ones, so that in a
short time there were scarcely above one
or two left in each cell ; and to this in-
clination of devouring their own species
is attributed the scarcity of spiders, when
compared to the vast number of eggs
they lay. Reaumur also affirms that
the web of the spider is inferior in
strength and lustre to that of the silk-
worm, and produces less of the material
fit for use. The thread of the spider's
web can only bear a weight of two
grains without breaking; and the bag
sustains the weight of thirty-six grains ;
the thread of a silk-worm will bear
two drachms and a half, so that five
threads of the spider are necessary to
form a cord equal to that of a silk-worm,
210
1STICS OF WAK.
and as it would be impossible to apply
these so closely together as to avoid
leaving any empty spaces, from which
the light would not be reflected, the
lustre would consequently be consider-
ably less : this was noticed at the time
the stockings were presented to the
society by M. de la Hire. It was further
observed, that spiders afford less silk
than silk-worms, the largest bags of the
latter weighing four grains, the smaller
three grains, so that 2,304 worms pro-
duce a pound of silk. The bags of a
spider weigh about one grain ; when
cleared of the dust and filth, they lose
about two-thirds of that weight. The
work of twelve spiders, therefore, only
equals that of one silk- worm ; and a
pound of silk will require at least
27,648 spiders. But as the bags are
solely the work of the females, who spin
them to deposit their eggs in, there must
be kept 55,296 spiders to yield one
pound of silk; and this will apply to
the good ones only, the spiders in gar-
dens barely yielding a twelfth part of
the silk of the domestic kinds. Two
hundred and eighty of them would not
produce more than one silk-worm ; and
663,555 such spiders would scarcely
yield a pound of silk !
SHELL-FISH.
THE life of a shell-fish is not one of un-
varying rest. Observe the phases of
an individual oyster, from the moment
of its earliest embryo life, independent
of maternal ties, to the consummation
of its destiny, when the knife of fate
shall sever its muscular chords, and
doom it to entombment in a living
sepulchre. How starts it forth into
the world of waters ? Not, as unen-
lightened people believe, in the shape
of a minute, bivalved, protected, grave,
fixed, and steady oysterling. No; it
enters upon its career all life and
motion, flitting about in the sea as
gaily and lightly as a butterfly or a
swallow skims through the air. Its
first appearance is a microscopic oyster-
cherub, with wing-like lobes flanking
a mouth and shoulders unencumbered
with inferior crural prolongations. It
passes through a joyous and vivacious
juvenility, skipping up and down, as if
in mockery of its heavy and immoveable
parents. It voyages from oyster-bed to
oyster-bed, and, if in luck, so as to
escape the watchful voracity of the
thousand enemies that lie in wait, or
prowl about to prey upon youth and
inexperience, at length, having sown
its wild oats, settles down into a steady,
solid, domestic oyster. It becomes the
parent of fresh broods of oyster-cherubs.
As such it would live and die, leaving
its shell, thickened through old age, to
serve as its monument throughout all
times a contribution towards the con-
struction of a fresh geological epoch,
and a new layer of the earth's crust
were it not for the gluttony of man,
who, rending this sober citizen of the
sea from his native bed, carries him un-
resisting to busy cities and the hum of
crowds. If a handsome, well-shaped,
and well-flavoured oyster, he is intro-
duced to the palaces of the rich and
noble, like a wit, or a philosopher, or a
poet, to give additional relish to their
sumptuous feasts. If a sturdy, thick-
back, strong-tasted individual, fate con-
signs him to the capacious tub of the
street fishmonger, from whence, dosed
with coarse, black pepper and pungent
vinegar, embalmed partly after the
fashion of an Egyptian king, he is
tranferred to the hungry stomach of a
costermonger.
STATISTICS OF WAR.
THE battle of Waterloo lasted for about
nine hours, and not more than 20,000
French were killed and wounded. We
will suppose that only 5,000 of these
were disposed of by the allied cavalry
and artillery, and there will remain
15,000 as the results of infantry who
were actually engaged on the side of
the English, and that they had only ex-
pended on an average seventy-five cart-
ridges per man a most moderate al-
lowance ; for it is well known that the
Rules went into action with eighty
rounds, and were twice supplied witn
ammunition during the day. The re-
sult will be, that it took the exertions
of three English soldiers for nine hours,
and the expenditure of two hundred
CHARACTERISTICS OF GREAT MEN.
211
and twenty-five musket shots to place
one Frenchman hors de combat I Slow
and tedious work this ! And had not
the Prussian army, according to pro-
mise, arrived in time to surround the
French reduced in numbers and ex-
hausted by their protracted exertions
with an overwhelming force, this would
have added one more to the long list of
indecisive modern battles. But " the
slaughter was tremendous." Well
might it have been, when 70,000
French and 70,000 English had been
engaged in the exchange of every spe-
cies of missile for nine hours ! But
mark a contrast. At the battle of
Prestonpans 2,500 undisciplined High-
landers, with broadswords and target;
their advance covered by an unskilful
fire of musketry, cut to pieces and dis-
persed in ten minutes a superior num-
ber of English infantry, armed and
equipped exactly like the men who con-
quered at Blenheim and Malphquet.
The same result followed at Falkirk,
and even at Culloden ; with dissatisfac-
tion and disobedience in their ranks,
which prevented the first attack being
supported and followed up, the High-
landers broke through every part of
the English line that they reached in
their charge.
JEFFERSON'S TEN EULES.
1. NEVER put off till to-morrow what
you can do to-day.
2. Never trouble another for what
you can do yourself.
3. Never spend your money before
you have it.
4. Never buy what you do not want
because it is cheap.
5. Pride costs us more than hunger,
thirst, and cold.
6. We seldom repent of having eaten
too little.
7. Nothing is troublesome that we
do willingly.
8. How much pain the evils have
cost us that have never happened.
9. Take things always by the smooth
handle.
10. When angry, coxmt ten before
you speak ; if very, angry a hundred.
MINOR MORALS FOR MARRIED
PEOPLE.
THE last word is the most dangerous of
infernal machines. Husband and wife
should no more strive to get it than they
would struggle for the possession of a
lighted bomb-shell.
Married people should study each
other's weak points, as skaters look out
for the weak parts of the ice, in order
to keep off them.
Ladies who marry for love should
remember that the union of angels
with women has been forbidden since
the flood.
The wife is the sun of the social sys-
tem. Unless she attracts, there is no*
thing to keep heavy bodies, like hus-
bands, from flying off into space.
The wife who would properly dis-
charge her duties, must never have a
soul " above buttons."
Don't trust too much to good-temper
when you get into an argument.
Sugar is the substance most univer-
sally diffused through all natural pro-
ducts ! Let married people take a hint
from this provision of Nature.
CHARACTERISTICS OF GREAT
MEN.
TASSO'S conversation was neither gay
nor brilliant. Dante was either taciturn
or satirical Butler was sullen or
biting. Gray seldom talked or smiled.
Hogarth and Swift were very absent-
minded in company. Milton was un-
sociable and even irritable when pressed
into conversation Kirwan, though
copious and eloquent in public ad-
dresses, was meagre and dull in col-
loquial discourse. Virgil was heavy in
conversation. La Fontaine appeared
heavy, coarse, and stupid; he could not ,
speak and describe what he had just j
seen, but then he was the model of \
poetry. Chaucer's silence was more
agreeable than his conversation. Dry-
den's conversation was slow and dull,
his humour saturnine and reserved.
Corneille, in conversation, was so in-
sipid that he never failed in wearying.
He did not even speak correctly that
language of which he was such a
master. Ben Jonson used to sit silent
212
RULES OF LIVING.
in company and suck his wine and their
humours Southey was stiff, sedate,
and wrapped up in asceticism. Addison
was good company with his intimate
friends, but iu mixed company he pre-
served his dignity by a stiff and reserved
silence. Fox, in conversation never
flagged; hi-; animation and variety were
inexhaustible. Dr. Bentley was loqua-
cious. Grotius was talkative. Gold-
smith wrote like an angel, and talked
like poor Poll. Burke was eminently
entertaining, enthusiastic, and inter-
.: in conversation. Curran was a
convivial deity, he soared into every
region, and was at home in all. Dr.
Birch dreaded a pen as he did a torpedo ;
but he could talk like running water.
Dr. Johnson wrote monotonously and
ponderously, but in conversation his
words were close and sinewy ; and if
his pistol missed fire, he knocked down
his antagonist with the butt of it.
Coleridge, iu his conversation, was full
of acuteness and originality. Leigh
Hunt has been well termed the phi-
losopher of hope, and likened to a
pleasant stream in conversation. Car-
lyle doubts, objects, and constantly
demurs. Fisher Ames was a powerful
and effective orator, and not the less
distinguished in the social circle. He
possessed a fluent language, a vivid
fancy, and a well-stored memory.
RULES OF LIVING.
ADAPTED FROM THE GERMAN OF
A. VON PLATEN.
1. READ frequently the following pre-
cepts ; impress them carefully upon
your mind, and let your purpose of
living by them ever grow firmer and
livelier, and let them be to you more
inviolable than an oath.
2. Let your religion be that of sensi-
ble and reasonable men. Let it consist
in faith in the goodness of the great
all-pervading Spirit in a Providence,
whose guiding and directing presence
is clearly manifested in all the events
of your life.
5. Permit no doubt nor doubter
to perplex you. It is neither possible
nor conceivable that you, with human
understanding, should be able to com-
prehend the Deity and the original
creation of things, since you can survey
only so small apart of the universe, and
can perceive that only through the
senses, and externally.
4. Communicate your principles only
to those who are animated by similar
views. You will convince no one
who does not convince himself. The
reformation of the world advances
at a slow place , let time perform its
work. All projects of sudden enlighten-
ment have proved abortive.
5. Never engage in so-called religious
disputes ; break oft such a conversation
as soon as an opportunity of doing so
is presented.
6. The idea of a Supreme Being will
necessarily lead you to the belief of thr
spirit's immortality, without which life
would be without meaning.
7. Neglect not the body, upon which
your whole earthly existence depends.
Inform yourself of what is beneficial,
and what is pernicious to it. Despise
it not ; but on the other hand also con-
sider what an inert, useless, and moul-
dering mass it is, as soon as it lacks life,
its animating principle.
8. Let the object of your life be, im-
provement in what is good. All is
good which contributes to the health of
your own body and mind, and that of
others.
9. For the perception of the good, a
sincere desire is sufficient. But it is
only by reflection and observation of
ourselves, that we attain to that rapid
penetration, and that nice power of dis-
tinction, which are so necessary iu
the manifold and complicated events of
life.
10. Never lose sight of that aim of
life, not even iu little things. Believe
that no action is so insignificant that
some virtue may not be promoted by
it. In bodily suffering and disagree-
able occupations, exercise at least
patience, of which man stands so much
and so frequently in need, and which
is the best safeguard against ill-
humour.
11. The good man contributes to the
welfare of others not alone by positive
acts and instruction ; but hi* life
RULES OF LIVING.
213
resembles a fruit-bearing shade tree,
by which each passer-by finds shelter
arid refreshment, which disinterestedly
and even involuntarily scatters happy
germs upon the surrounding soil,
whereby it produces what is like and
similar to itself.
12. Whatever you do, trust in Pro-
vidence, and also in yourself. Both
united, will extricate you from every
dilemma, encourage you in every un-
dertaking.
13. Should any misfortune threaten
to plunge you into the deep gloom of
despondency, stimulate your courage
by an effort of resignation.
14. Shun no toil, as the wise Seneca
says, to make yourself remarkable by
some talent or other.
15. Yet do not devote yourself to
ne branch exclusively. Strive to get
clear notions about all. Give up no
science entirely, for science ia but one.
16. Follow also the counsel of Garve ;
acquire the art and skill to render the
whole man at least tolerable, although
you may gain your real reputation in
the world by a single part only. To a
rational man this attainment is obliga-
tory.
17. Let your watch-words be con-
stant activity and daily contemplation
of yourself and the ways of God.
These will guard you against every false
step.
18. Allow yourself, moreover, as
much recreation as is needful for you,
but not more, unless you would reap
the reward of disagreeable feelings.
19. Force yourself in the evil hour
to no labour, except it be a positive
duty. Yet on the other hand, fly pro-
crastination, which Young justly calls
the thief of time. These rules have
their exceptions, not likely to be mis-
taken.
20. Introduce changes in your read-
ing and studies. Who reads but little
at a time, retains that little the better.
21. Guard against reading too much
or too rapidly. Read rather with at-
tention ; lay the book often down ; im-
press on your mind what you have read,
and reflect upon it.
22. Weigh every step that you are
about to take, whenever your passion*
become involved. How often do thing*
assume a different aspect, when they
are fairly considered !
23. On the other hand, be prompt
and decided in all that you have ascer-
tained to be clear of doubt, irreproach-
able and in accordance with duty, and
in which you can in no wise fear mis-
construction.
24. Maintain your name blameless,
and deliver it pure and stainless to
posterity. Let no end induce a resort
to questionable means.
25. In all things study moderation,
a virtue more difficult than it appears,
but more necessary than any other.
Thiuk not, however, that anything base
can be ennobled by moderation.
26. Be prepared for the worst. Never
let your sorrows get the mastery over
you; conceal them always. Those
things, says La Bruye're, which are most
wished for, do not happen, or if they
happen, it is not at the time and in the
circumstances when they would have
given the greatest pleasure.
27. Be always frank and true, and
spurn every sort of affectation and dis-
guise. Have the courage to confess
your ignorance and awkwardness. Con-
fide your faults and follies to but few.
28. Observe, hear, and be silent.
Judge little, inquire much.
29. Be not deterred by unfavourable
appearances, provided your intentions
are good. Be not too proud to dissi-
pate a prejudice that happens to attach
to you, whenever it lies in your power.
If it does not, entrench yourself within
your virtue, as Horace says.
30. When low-spirited, remain rather
alone. In company be as cheerful as
possible. It is incredible to what an
extent a gloomy and surly deportment
can disfigure how prepossessing cheer-
fulness is.
31. When you are in ill-humour, ask
yourself seriously : What is the cause
of my vexation ? May it not be dis-
pelled? What shall I do ? In most
cases an earnest effort will be success-
ful.
32. Be punctual. Admit no disorder
in your effects and papers. Look over
2H
RULES OF LIVING
the latter from time to time, distroying
those that are useless.
33. Appear rather too liberal than
too economical, but never lavish. Econo-
mise in little things. Learn self-denial.
34 In a strait betwixt truth and
falsehood, decide unhesitatingly for the
truth. Candour is always essential.
35. Be strictly on your guard against
the risings of anger. Never vent your
displeasure against those who cannot or
dare not retort.
36. Restrain your self-will. An oppor-
tunity will not be wanting for exhibit-
ing your firmness. Banish obstinacy,
however.
37. Let your repentance be a lively
will, a firm resolution Complaints and
mourning over past errors avail nothing,
without a determination to amend them.
38. When you wake in the morning,
think over the day. Endeavour to look
at the bright side, though unpleasant
business lies before you.
39. Keep a journal , the utility of it
is manifold, as is also the pleasure.
Make it, however, a point of duty to be
rigidly candid. Let it not be to you
merely a remembrancer, but a means
of self-knowledge.
40. Preserve purity of mind under
all circumstances. Guard against the
follies of love. Allow due importance
to first impressions, but do not let your-
self be carried away by them. Study
physiognomy in different persons, but
not in those for whom you begin to feel
affection, for in that case it will as-
suredly mislead you. Shun all self
dece >tion. Accustom yourself to esteem
only inward and acknowledged worth,
and to regard exterior rathe" as a snare
for your freer j udgmeut. Do not delude
yourself by fine sounding words, by self
created idols.
41. It is particularly necessary that
you should be master of your thoughts.
Difficult as it may be not to indulge
one's darling ideas, be determined never-
theless to strive against them. Should
they intrude themselves during your
walks, take a book with you and read
with attention. But read something
that will change the tone of your mind,
not Pastor Fido, which would only make
it worse.
42. Attend scrupulously to the du-
ties which your situation imposes on
you.
43. Take a benevolent interest in all
that concerns humanity and its progress,
as well as the welfare of individuals.
Be sensible to the claims of all.
44. Let the judgment of the multi-
tude make you reflect, but never
despair.
45. Do not imagine that every person
who lays claim to your sympathy at the
first moment, is made to be your friend,
for experience contradicts it.
46. Be the more confiding with your
known friends. Do every thing for them
that lies in your power. For Pope was
right in saying, that when we deduct
what others feel and think, our joys
sicken and fame sinks. Let no threats,
no fate, induce you to forsake your
friends.
47. Trust them, for without confi-
dence never do two persons really get
near to each other. On the other hand
keep sacred not only every secret con-
fided to you, but also every word not
proper for all to hear.
48. Never read other people's papers,
letters, or journals, that happen to lie in
your way.
49. See your friends neither too often
nor too seldom.
50. Promise little, particularly in
small matters, but keep your promises
in spite of all hindrances. Do not place
reliance in the promises of those whom
you do not well know.
51. Better trust too much than mis-
trust. Believe not with La Rochefou-
cault and his followers, that all men and
all their words and actions are regulated
simply by their interest, if indeed you
deem yourself capable of a disinterested
action.
52. Epistolary correspondence is as
pleasant as it is profitable, but do not
extend it so far as to make it burthen-
some.
53. Be more polite to inferiors than
to superiors.
ON WALLS.
216
ON WALLS
OUB great dramatist made a certain wall
so kind and accommodating in temper
as to open a chink for the love-inter-
course of Pyramus and Thisbe; and
walls in general (except those of pnsons
and fortifications) are by no means such
harsh and obdurate things as might be
supposed by those who have never
studied their resources. One of the
most thoughtful and original of writers
on architecture (Mr. Ruskin), has given
the world some matter on this subject
worth its attention, and traced histori-
cally the decline from significant beauty
to false and tasteless ornament, and
thence into baldness and unmeaning
formality, changes traceable to, and
concurrent with, a departure from
aesthetic principles in general matters,
and, in particular, to a decline in ear-
nestness and spirituality of religious
habits and ideas. But it is not our
present purpose to attempt any pro-
found dissertation on the scientific pai*t
of this subject. We content ourselves
with a light and superficial glance at
our walls outside and in, and with such
didactic observations as are suggested
by them on the principle of the associa-
tion of ideas.
The house-wall is surely a thing with
a meaning, which might be, and should
be, beautifully expressed ; and as its
origin dates from the time when hu-
manity in general left off its early
nomadic propensities, and developed
the instinct of a love of home, one
might expect that the history of houses
and of house-walls would exhibit a series
of changes, in perfect consistency with
the changing habits and increasing
needs, of those who dwell within them.
Man is not of the order mollusca, with
his house tied to his body, and therefore,
of necessity obliged to change its form
and size, to correspond with his growth
and development ; but we might expect
that men would do by free-will some-
thing analogous to what the mollusk
does by necessity, and that in an age of
luxury and refinement in material mat-
ters, they would seek to have substan-
tial dwellings as well as costly-furnished
ones, and to make changes without,
correspondent with changes within.
In our own country, perhaps more
than any other, the house-wall has fallen
into degeneracy. It is a most wretched^
feeble scion from the bold, vigorous
stock of its Saxon and Norman fore-
fathers. Once solid and stalwart, with
broad foundations, massive breadth, and
buttresses that were both a grace and a
support, it has now declined into- a state
so thin, and weak, and rickety, that on
windy nights most of our common and
middle-class dwellings so rock and
swing, as to threaten a catastrophe like
to that spoken of in the nurseiy rhyme :
" When the bow breaks the cradle shall fall,
Down comes cradle, baby, and all."
The old maxim, " all the same a hun-
dred years hence," certainly cannot apply
to modern houses. Such flimsy things
were never intended for a hundred
years, nor half that period ; and long
before its close,these ghastly ailing tene-
ments of bricks and mortar will have
passed away, and " leave not a wrack
behind." Let us hope, however, that
some tasteful builders or architects will
spring up in our metropolis, and in all
the provinces, to reform our domestic
buildiugs, and make our homes weather-
tight and substantial.
Close to the outer wall of buildings,
in country or suburban districts, there
stands the garden-wall convenient for
fruit trees and climbing flowers, and a
pretty - enough object when covered
with the ivy, the jessamine and the rose ;
but, when bare in the winter time,
painfully monotonous and uninterest-
ing in its long unbroken uniformity.
And yet it would not be difficult to
make even a garden-wall in some degree
an object of beauty. Sometimes va-
rious-coloured bricks might be used,
the panelling of wainscot be imitated
by well-propcrtioned indentations, and
tasteful cornices and top ornaments be
made to relieve the, monotony of a long
unvaried line. Field and garden-walls,
however, have been generally left to
mere bricklayers a class of persons
who, though probably " regular bricks"
at their trade (to use a slang phrase of
ON WALLS.
compliment) are notoriously, not very
highly cultured in the art of combining
grace with utility. But the fault does
not lie altogether with the bricklayers,
nor even principally. Those who em-
ploy them are more to blame in the
matter. Walls, with few exceptions,
have hitherto been erected from no other
than mere utilitarian motives, with no
mingling of artistic and picturesque
ideas. They are mere barriers to distin-
guish rnjtu.ni from tuuui iu the matter of
landed property. They are an applica-
tion of the rule of " division" to prevent
the too frequent use of the opposite
rule of " subtraction." Fruit and vege
tables are apt to disappear from gar-
dens, " oft in the stilly night :" and
when the owner has been at some pains
to produce them, it is natural that he
should find that, as the school boys
phrase it, " multiplication is vexation ;"
particularly when the thing multiplied
is stolen from him. Hence the erection
of the wall, to mark off the dividends
for the rightful divisor. Garden-walls,
however, are by no means insurmount-
able barriers. Many a roguish lad
scales them in the autumn evenings,
in search of apples and apricots : and
adventurous lovers regard them as
nothing, when beckoned to by lily hands
and shining eyes at a chamber win-
dow. To tender conversion and im-
passioned love-songs they have been
regarded as offering but very slight ob-
stacles indeed. Mr. Barney Brallaghan,
in his seranade to Judy Callaghan, says,
" There's only the wall between us."
Only the wall ! And what's that, when
love warms a man with a voice and a
purpose ?
Passing from the garden into the
house, we will speak for a moment of
the interior walls. Here the flimsiness
of structure is partly concealed by a
coat of plastering, over which is hung,
in regular lines, a sort of wrapper or
dressing gown of farthing paper dotted
with grotesque patches of various colour.
In this matter, however, of mural deco-
ration by means of paper, a very consi-
derable improvement has taken place
within these few years ; and there are
now many papers of the cheapest and
commonest kinds, which, in regard to
design and contrasts of colour, are not
without the merit of taste ind the effect
of beauty. There are, however, some
classes of buildings in which we think
paper mightbe advantageously dispensed
with altogether, and the walls lined in
the inside with encaustic or ornamented
glazed tiles. The material is cold, and
at first suggestive more of a dairy or a
cellar than a parlour. But this preju-
dice will pass away, when it is remem-
bered that such tiles might be rendered
in the highest degree ornamental, thus
producing the effect of beauty ; that
they are infinitely cleaner than paper,
thus promoting comfort and tidiness ;
that they would give an air of coolness
to the apartment in summer time ; and
that even iu the winter heat from the
fire would be more equably diffused over
the room, owing to the radiating power
of glazed and shining surfaces.
In a subsequent article we shall say
something recommendatory of adorning
our walls with prints and pictures. In
the present, we are on less poetic
ground ; and our purpose now will be
realised if we succeed in directing the
attention of a few to the flimsy style of
modern buildings, and in exciting a
desire for substantiality, cleanliness,
neatness, and convenience, coupled with
as much grace and variety as can be
consistently aesociated with specific
ends of utility.
We iuvite all reformers in these out-
ward domestic matters to continue the
battle vigorously against ugliness and
flimsiness, to " hang up their banners
on the outward walls," inscribed with
better principles of taste, and comfort,
and convenience, than are at present
acted upon.
THE LUNGS, AND RESPIRATION.
MAN has a necessity for the atmosphere
around him ; without it he cannot exist.
The power of locomotion is given to
enable him to change his atmosphere at
will. This power does not belong to
man alone ; it is the necessity of all
animated beings, from the smallest in-
sect to the monsters of creation. Whence
this necessity ?
THE LUNGS AND KESP1RA.TION.
217
It arises out of the process of diges-
tion. To this we shall hereafter iv mr ;
but at present we may briefly say, that
when food is taken a large amount of
an element called carbon is received into
the system. There is always contained
in food more of this element than is re-
quired for the wants of the body, and
the surplus has therefore to be gotten
rid of, and the process of breathing or
respiration is one important means to
attain the desired end.
Respiration is an aeration of the
system. By it the external air is intro-
duced into the body, and brought into
contact with its extrernest parts. And
throughout the animal kingdom there
are distinct organs for performing this
important office.
Among the family of fishes this is ac-
complished by a thin membrane, pro-
longed into tufts, or fringes, so arranged
as to expose the greatest amount of
surface to the water, each filament con-
taining two vessels, one for the ingress
and the other for the egress of the
water.
It is while the water is passing through
this membrane, that it is robbed of its
pure air, which is received into the
blood-vessels spread along these fringes,
or gills.
Fishes respire externally. Not so with
land animals; their breathing is internal,
and is carried on by passages and cham-
bers, into which the air is drawn, and
on the sides of which the blood is dis-
tributed in a mimite net-work of vessels,
called capillaries, from their size.
In the leech and the earth-worm,
aeration is carried on by a series of little
air-cells, disposed along each side of the
body, one for each segment. In insects,
instead of these sacs, there is a system
of prolonged tubes ramifying through
the body, and carrying air into its
minutest portions.
The oyster respires by gills, like the
fish, but, unlike it, the gills have no
connexion with the mouth. In frogs
and reptiles the lungs are simple sacs,
with little subdivisions into cells, a
small amount of aeration sufficing for
them.
In birds a large surface is provided
for aeration by subdividing the lung
into minute cells, and also by the addi-
tion of air-bags, placed in various parts
of the body, and even in the centre of
the long bones. Thus a large air-surface
is given in a little space, and the body
rendered proportionably light.
In no class of animals, however, is the
minute subdivision into cells, and the
mechanism by which a continual supply
of air is provided, so perfect as in the
mammals, at the head of which Man i
placed.
Respiration is carried on by man in
the upper parts of the chest, in the
cavity of which are placed the lungs a
pair of sponge-like bodies made up of a
cluster of minute cells, which have the
power of dilating or contracting, and
on the sides of which the minute capil-
lary blood-vessels are distributed.
These cells open into a narrow tube,
which widens as it passes upward, re-
ceiving additional tubes from the same
lung. The main tube passing still
higher up, unites with the one from the
lung on the opposite side, forming a
wide air-tube, called the trachea, or
windpipe, which, passing into the neck,
terminates in the mouth.
The cells and tubes are bound together
by a thin cellular membrane, and covered
on the outside by a smooth, polished,
lining membrane (the pleura), which,
after investing these organs, lines the
inside of the ribs, and allows the lungs
to move freely in the space allotted to
them.
The air-cells are too small to be deli-
neated; they vary in size from one-
twentieth to a two-hundrerh part of an
inch in diameter, and therefore are so
numerous in a single lung, thereby ex-
posing so large a surface of membrane
to air, that it has been calculated to ex-
ceed twenty thousand square inches in
an average-sized man.
Breathing consists of two acts ; the
first, that of drawing in the external
air inspiration ; the second, that of
driving oat an equal volume of air
expiration. To inspire, the bony chest
has to be dilated. This is accomplished
by the muscles of the chest and back,
with those attached to the shoulder,
THE LUXGS AND RESPIRATION.
which co-operate together, and. by con-
tracting, raise and pull out the ribs,
thereby enlarging the cavity of the
client. The muscles between the ribs
(intercostal) assist in this action very
materially.
The lungs, in the healthy state, com-
pletely fill the cavities assigned to them ;
so that when this cavity is enlarged a
vacuum is produced, which can only be
filled by a corresponding enlargement
of the lung ; and to accomplish this, the
air rushes down the trachea, and passes
to the remotest air-cells.
The lung thus obtains a large space
for dilatation, by the elevation of the
liut it is further increased by the
action of the diaphragm, or midriff a
muscle which is spread across, inside,
and below the lungs, separating them
from the contents of the abdomen. This
muscle, when not in action, is arched
upward into the chest, diminishing the
space there ; but when it contracts, it
becomes flatter, pressing down into the
abdomen, and affording greater space for
the lungs. We become unpleasantly
conscious of the existence of this muscle
whenever it contracts spasmodically, as
in hiccups.
When the lungs are thus filled to the
utmost with air, those muscles cease to
contract any more, their fibres relax?
and the bony chest sinks down to its
original dimensions ; the dilated lungs
are pressed upon, and the excess of air
is expelled out by the windpipe. This
constitutes expiration. It is almost a
passive act, being little else than the
cessation of the muscular action which
produced inspiration. In both acts the
lungs have been quite passive, they
being filled or emptied, not by any act
of their own, but solely by the amount
of the dilatation and contraction of the
walls of the chest.
These motions of the chest are con-
tinually going on, and in general it may
be stated that from fourteen to eighteen
respirations occur in the minute, and
every fourth or fifth inspiration is drawn
deeper than the others. In young and
nervous persons these acts are more
quickly performed, as are they also in
n flammation of the lun g ; while in fever,
and a few other conditions of the body,
its movements become remarkably slow.
Having now described the parts which
perform the office of drawing in the air,
and the mechanism by which it is per-
formed, it remains to be shown what
are the alterations produced in that
fiui 1, and the effects upon the frame
dependent on the alteration.
Each inspiration draws in about
twenty cubic inches of air : the same
bulk is expired immediately after. Thio
is equal to 266^ cubic feet in twenty-
four hours; and aa a man ought not to
breathe the same air twice, it is evident
what a large amount of fresh air every
one requires to be surrounded with.
The pure air which is inspired is
made up, in round numbers, of 79 parts
of nitrogen, and 21 of oxygen. The air
which is expired has not this compo-
sition, but it is very nearly 79 parts of
nitrogen, and 20 parts carbonic acid;
the rest being a little air unaltered.
The change produced in the air in the
lungs is the apparent loss of the oxygen,
and its being replaced by carbonic acid.
But as carbonic acid itself is made of
one part of carbon and two parts of
oxgyen, it is clear thdt this latter is not
wholly lost, but only that portion which
is replaced by carbon, or about one-
third of the whole quantity of oxygen
present in the air. The remainder,
however, by being united with carbon,
is rendered unfit for further use.
To the lungs, then, oxygen is taken in,
and a nearly equal amount of carbonic
acid is given off, the latter being the
most appropriate form in which carbon
could be thrown off the lungs.
Carbonic acid is that air which escapes
in fermentation, which flies off from
soda-water, and which may be bad in
abundance when an acid is poured on
marble. It puts out a light, and if a
man attempt to breathe it in quantity
he is suffocated. It may be breathed
when diluted, but it then poisons the
system, and lowers the general health.
In any case it is obnoxious. The death
produced by descending vats and closed
cellars is caused by this gas.
A healthy man expires daily nearly
18,000 cubic inches of this deadly gaa,
HISTORY OF BOOKKEEPING.
219
which for himself or others to breathe
again, even in a diluted form, is inju-
rious. From this, with the foregoing
calculation, it appears necessary that
each individual, for healthy existence,
should have the expired air containing
this large quantity of carbonic acid com-
pletely removed from reach of breath-
hag; and should also be supplied with
266 cubit feet of fresh air in the same
time.
We are here led to perceive the high
importance of ventilation ; for it is not
sufficient for health that a room should
contain the quantity of air requisite for
the support of its inhabitants during a
given time. After they have remained
in it but a part of that time, the
quantity of carbonic acid which its air
will contain will be large enough to
interfere greatly with the due aeration
of their blood, and thus cause oppression
of the brain, and other morbid affections
that arise from an accumulation of car-
bonic acicl in the circulation.
Another requisite necessary for
healthy respiration is a roomy chest, a
capacity sufficient to admit the neces-
sary quantity of air into the lungs. The
labouring man, and he who exercises the
muscles of his chest, possesses this re-
quisite; not so the sedentary citizen, x or
the woman who, copying a fancied ideal
of beauty, compresses her chest between
the bones of stays. She not only pre-
vents its attaining its healthy size, by
pressure, but hinders the muscles from
contracting, and thus suffers them to
dwindle away; and the result is, she
cannot take a full breath, for the ribs
cannot be raised except the muscles
contract strongly, and this cannot be
accomplished by weak atrophical mus-
cular fibres.
HISTORY OF BOOK-KEEPING.
BOOK-KEEPING may be defined that
systematic arrangement of commercial
transactions, by which' the true state of
the proprietor's concerns may be easily
ascertained ; thus, at once exhibiting
correct and ready information of every
particular in trade, and the general re-
sult of the whole, in point of profit or
loss. It cannot be necessary in an age
so distinguished as the present for com-
merce, to speak of the importance of
this science ; but perhaps a brief sketch
as an attempt to trace its origin and pro-
gressive improvements, may not be dis-
pleasing to the reader; in which the
subject must be understood to imply
the method by double entry, usually
called the Italian for it is obvious
that some system of recording money
affairs, under the beads of receipts and
disbursements, must have been prac-
tised in the very infancy of commerce.
Like most other valuable sciences, the
date of its origin is extremely uncertain,
buc the earliest trace that can be found
of it is about the beginning of the fif-
teenth century,* when it was practised
at Venice, at that time remarkable as
the emporium of commerce ; and hence
this method is usually called the Italian,
because (as is generally supposed) we
are indebted to that nation for our
knowledge in the art.
Some of those authors who are always
zealous champions for the ancients, and
will hardly allow any meritorious im-
provement in science due to the
moderns, have contended that double
entry was known by the Romans, and
merely revived in Italy with returning
commerce; in support of this hypo-
thesis, they have exercised much critical
ingenuity and erudition : and have
quoted several passages from the clas-
sics, proving that the ancienta com-
monly entered the receipts and pay-
ments of money upon opposite sides after
the way of debtor and creditor; of such
instances the following passage from
Pliny (book ii. chap. 7) may serve for
a specimen, as, indeed, it seems ex-
tremely in favour of their argument.
" Huic (scil. fortunse) omnia expensa;
huic omnia feruntur accepta ; et in tota
ratione mortalium sola utramque pagi-
num facit."
But even admitting the ancients did
arrange their accounts in the debtor and
creditor method, s'tiJl this implies no
more than single entry ; commerce was
then in a very rude and imperfect state,
* Vide " Beckman's Inventions and Dis-
coveries ;" also " Stevens's Book-keeping ap-
plied to Finance."
220
HISTORY OF BOOKKEEPING.
and consequently it is extremely pro-
bable that nothing more was reqi;
but the most weighty objection to this
opinion is, that the ancient languages
afford no terms correspondent to t he-
modern tccJm <Va/ phrases of double entry;
and Snelliii^. when he translated " Ste-
vens's Book-keeping " into Latin, after
the most scrutiuous research for such
terms in vain, was compelled to coin
them ; thus he called the art itself,
Apologistica ; the Waste Book, Liber
Dchtitius; the Ledger, Codex accepti
exponsique; Stock, Sors ; Balance Epilo-
gismus, &c.
Indeed the terms adopted in most of
the European languages appear to be
derived immediately from the Italian,
with the exception of the English word
Ledger, which has exhibited as much
variation in the orthography as it has
occasioned disputes about its etymology;
it was formerly spelt Leager, Leadger,
Leidger, Leiger, Leger, and lastly Ledger
its name in the Italian and southern
languages of Europe implies the master
book ; in the German and other north
em provinces the head book ; and in
the Dutch and French the grand book.
As to its derivation, Bailey refers it to
the Latin verb leyere, to gather: but
Dr. Johnson says, it is so from the Dutch
legyen, to continue in one place ; while
some others again have conjectured it
arose from the liege books of the feudal
ages, which recorded the rents, duties,
and services due from the liege men (or
tenants).
Having thus advanced the arguments
pro and con., as to the claims of the
ancients to a knowledge of this art, I
proceed to submit some conjectures in
favour of the moderns; perhaps it is
not at all improbable that the principle
of double entry was suggested by the
double purpose of bills of exchange,
and the ordinary way of entering them ;
these \ve know are decidedly a modern
invention, or it might possibly have
been deduced from some of Euclid's
axioms, or by the operations of algebraic
equations ; in support of the last opinion
the following circumstance is remark-
ably apposite :
Lucas de Borgo, an Italian friar, was
the fust who translated Algebra from
the Arabic into any of the European
langMjiges : he was one of the earliest
writers on several other mathematical
subjects, and is generally supposed to
have composed the first express trea-
tise on this science. It was published in
his native language (the Italian) in 1495,
which is nearly the most distant period
to which we can with certainty trace
back the origin of book-keeping ; and
thus mich for the claims of the moderns
for this invention. Let the reader settle
the point in dispute.
Assuming then the prior part of the
fifteenth century (as has been already
remarked) to be the origin of this
science, I now endeavour to follow its
progress in this country : and although
the southern parts of Europe were ac-
quainted with book-keeping by the
Italian manner at the above-mentioned
period, it appears that the knowledge
was diffused but slowly ; for we find
nothing of it in England till 1543, when
the first English work on this subject
was published at London, by Hugh
Oldcastle, a school-master, which was
much improved, and reprinted by John
Mellis (also a school-master) in 1588.
The curious reader may find some ac-
count of this work in "Aymes's An-
tiquities of Typography," where a copy
of the title is thus given: "A bricfe
instructioue and maner howe to kepe
bookes of accomptes partible, &c., by
three bookes, named ye memorial!, jor-
nall, and leager. Newley augmented
and sfitte forth e by John Mellis, schole
maister of London : imprynted by
hime at ye signe of y White Beare,
nighe Baynard's Castel, 1588."
The next treatise of which we have
any account, was by James Peele ; and
this was also published in London, in
1569 :in his preface, he says, "though
long practised in foreign parts, this art
was but then new in England !"
This work was succeeded in 1652 by
a considerably improved system, in a
large treatise by John Collins, a very
celebrated mathematician, whose pub-
lication served as a standard book
nearly a century.
These were the principal early En-
DEATH.
221
glish writers on this art, during the first
two centuries since its introduction to
this country; which again received
much improvement, in a well-known
popular work, published 1736, by John
Mais, a professor of mathematics at
Perth ; from this period numerous were
the authors upon this subject, but they
followed each other so closely, both in
manner and matter, that very little
benefit arose from their productions ;
to give a list would be tedious, but the
most approved of them are Dodson,
Donu, Dowling, Dilworth, Crosby,
Cooke, Hamilton, Hatton, London,
Miers, Malcolm, Stevens, Snell, Web-
ster, Wood, &c,, whose treatises all ap-
peared from 1720 to 1770.
Hitherto the writers upon book-
keeping were all teachers, and although
as such, they were competent to explain
the principles, they had not the means
of practically proving their theories ;
and, consequently their works were but
an indifferent preparative for the
counting-house. This defect was supplied
in 1789, by a judicious and elaborate
work by Benjamin Booth, a merchant,
whose treatise has enabled later authors
to combine the theory and elementary
precepts of the instructor with the im-
provements resulting from actual mer-
cantile experience ; so that in modern
works the former has gone hand in hand
with the latter.
Before concluding the subject, it may
not be amiss to mention the prospectus
of a plan published in 1796, to rival the
Italian mode, called "The English Book-
keeping," by a Mr. Jones ; who, therein,
boldly represented " the Italian system
as delusive and erroneous," and an-
nounced his own as an infallible plan
by single entry.
Under the sanction of some eminent
names as recommenders, subscriptions
at a guinea each were raised to the
enormous sum of nearly 7,000 !
Public impatience was very great for
the appearance of the work, which was
somehow delayed much beyond the
appointed time, and many considered
the whole as a hoax; at last, however,
it came forth, and completely disap-
pointed public expectation. Several
pamphlets attacking Mr. Jones's book
appeared, and produced others as warm
in its defence ; thus causing some con-
troversy between the partizans of the
old and new system ; at length, a gen-
tleman of the name of Mill gained the
triumph of the Italian over the English
mode, and formed a due comparison of
their respective claims, by arranging
the whole of Mr. Jones's work into a
Journal and Ledger by double entry.
DEATH.
As the word Life is employed in a
double sense to denote the actions or
phenomena by which it is developed,
and the cause of these phenomena, so
the old English word Death is used fa-
miliarly to express two or more mean-
ings. The first of these is the transition
from the living to the lifeless or inani-
mate state the act, that is, of dying;
the second, the condition of an organ-
ised body which has ceased to live,
while organisation yet remains, and
symmetry still displays itself, and the
admirable structure of its parts is not
yet destroyed by decomposition, or
resolved into the original and primary
elements from which it was moulded,
" Before Decay's effacing fingers
Have swept the lines where beauty lingers.'
We occasionally speak of " dead mat-
ter" in the sense of inorganic; but this
is merely a rhetorical or metaphorical
phrase. That which has never lived
cannot properly be said to be dead.
In the following essay I shall use the
word chiefly in the first of the senses
above indicated. It will often be con-
venient to employ it in the second also ;
but in doing so I will be careful so to
designate its bearing as to avoid any
confusion. The context will always pre-
vent any misunderstanding on this point.
Death may be considered physiologi-
cally, pathologically, and psychologi-
cally. We are obliged to regard it, and
speak of it, as the uniform correlative,
and, indeed, the necessary consequence,
or final result of life ; the act of dying
as the rounding off, or termination, of
the act of living. But it ought to be
remarked, that this conclusion is de-
rived, not from any understanding or
222
DEATH.
comprehension of the relevancy of the
asserted connexion, nor from any d
priori reasoning applicable to the in-
quiry, but merely u posteriori as the
result of universal exp i that
has lived has died ; and, therefore, all
that lives must die.
The solid rock on which we tread,
and with which we rear our palaces and
iiat is it often when micro-
scopically examined, but a congeries of
the fossil remains of innumerable
animal tribes ! The soil from which, by
tillage, we derive our vegetable food, is
scarcely anything more than a mere
mixture of the decayed and decaying
fragments of former organic being;
the shells and exuviae, the skeletons
and fibres and exsiccated juices of ex-
tinct life.
The earth itself, in its whole habita-
ble surface, is little else than the mighty
sepulchre of the past ; and
" All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings
Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or lose thyself in the continuous -woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound
Save his own dashings yet, the dead are there ;
And millions in these solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep : the dead reign there alone."
Four millions of Egyptians cultivate
the valley of the great river on whose
banks, amidst the fertilising dust of
myriads of their progenitors, there are
calculated still to exist, in a state of
preservation, not less than from four
hundred to five hundred millions of
mummies. The "City of the Tombs"
is far more populous than the neigh-
bouring streets even of crowded Con-
stantinople ; and the cemetries of Lon-
don and the catacombs of Paris are
filled to overflowing. The trees which
gave shade to our predecessors of a few
generations back lie prostrate ; and the
dog and horse, the playmate and the
servant of our childhood are but dust.
Death surrounds and sustains us. We
derive our nourishment from the de-
struction of living organisms, and from
tlzts source alone.
AJid who is there among us that has
reached the middto term of existence,
that may not, in the touching phrase of
Carlyle, " measure the various stages of
his life-journey by the white tombs of
his beloved ones, rising in the distance
liko pale, mournfully receding mile-
stones ? "
" When Wilkie was in the Escurial,"
says Southey, "looking at Titian's
famous picture of the Last Supper in
the refectory there, an old Jerouymitc
monk said to him, ' I have sat daily in
sight of that picture for now nearly
threescore years ; during that time my
companions have dropped off one after
another all who were my seniors, all
who were my contemporaries, and
many or most of those who were
younger than myself; more than one
generation had passed away, and there
the figures in the picture have remained
unchanged. I look at them, till I
sometimes think that they are the reali-
ties, and we but shadows.' "
I have stated that there is no reason
known to us why Death should always
" round the sum of life." Up to a cer-
tain point of their duration, varying in
each separate set of instances, and in
the comparison of extremes varying
prodigiously, the vegetable and animal
organisms not only sustain themselves,
but expand and develope themselves,
grow and increase, enjoying a better and
better life, advancing and progressive.
Wherefore is it that at this period all
progress is completely arrested ; that
thenceforward they waste, deteriorate,
and fail? Why should they thus de-
cline and decay with unerring uni-
formity upon their attaining their
highest perfection, their most intense
activity ? This ultimate law is equally
mysterious and inexorable. It is true
the Sacred Writings tell us of Enoch,
" whom God took, and he was not ; "
and of Elijah, who was transported
through the upper air in a chariot of
fire ; and of Melchizedek, the most ex-
traordinary personage whose name ia
recorded, " without father, without
mother, without descent : having neither
beginning of days, nor end of life." We
read the history without conceiving the
faintest hope from these exceptions to
the universal rule. Yet our fancy kaa
DEATH.
223
always exulted in visionary evasions of
it, by forging for ourselves creations of
immortal maturity, youth, and beauty,
residing in Elysian fields of unfading
spring, amidst the fruition of perpetual
vigour. We would driiik, in imagina-
tion, of the sparkling fountain of
rejuvenescence ; nay, boldly dare the
terror of Medea's cauldron. We echo,
in every despairing heart, the ejacula-
tion of the expiring Wulcott, " Bring
back my youth ! "
Reflection, however, cannot fail to
reconcile us to our ruthless destiny.
There is another law of our being, not
less unrelenting, whose yoke is even
harsher and more intolerable, from
whose pressure Death alone can relieve
us, and in comparison with which the
absolute certainty of dying becomes a
glorious blessing. Of whatever else
we may remain ignorant, each of us,
for himself, comes to feel, realise, and
know unequivocally that all his capaci-
ties, both of action and enjoyment, are
transient, and tend to pass away ; and
when our thirst is satiated, we turn
disgusted from the bitter lees of the
once fragrant and sparkling cup. I
am aware of Paruell's offered analogy
" The tree of deepest root is found
Unwilling most to leave the ground;"
and of Rush's notion, who imputes to
the aged such an augmenting love of
life that he is at a loss to account for
it, and suggests, quaintly enough, that
it may depend upon custom, the great
moulder of our desires and propensities;
and that the infirm and decrepit " love
to live on, because they have acquired a
habit of living." His assumption is
wrong in point of fact. He loses sight
of the important principle that old age
is a relative term, and that one man
may be more superannuated, further
advanced in natural decay at sixty, than
another at one hundred years. Parr
might well rejoice at being alive, and
exult in the prospect of continuing to
live, at one hundred and thirty, being
capable, as is affirmed, even of the en-
joyment of sexual life at that age ; but
he who has had his " three sufficient
warnings,' ' who is deaf, lame, and blind ;
who, like the monk of the Escurial, has
Lost all his contemporaries, and is con-
demned to hopeless solitude, and
oppressed with the consciousness of
dependence and imbecility, must look
on Death not as a curse, but a refuge.
Of one hundred and thirty-three suicides
occurring in Geneva from 1825 to
1834, more than half were above fifty
years of age; thiry-four, f rom fifty-fi ve^o
sixty ; nineteen, from sixty to seventy ;
nine, from seventy to eighty; three,
from eighty to ninety ; in all, sixty-five.
The mean term of life in that city being
about thirty-five to forty, this bears an
immense proportion to the actual
population above fifty, and exhibite
forcibly an opposite condition of feeling
to that alleged by Rush, a weariness of
living, a desire to die, rather than an
anxiety, or even willingness to live.
I once knew an old man, of about
one hundred and four, who retained
many of his faculties. He could read
ordinary print without glasses, walked
firmly, rode well, and could even leap
with some agility. When I last parted
with him, I wished him twenty years
more ; upon which he grasped my hand
closely, and declared he would not let
me go until I had retracted or reversed
the prayer.
Strolling with my venerable and
esteemed colleague, Professor Stephen
Elliott, one afternoon, through a field on
the banks of the river Ashley, we came
upon a negro basking in the sun, the
most ancient-looking personage I have
ever seen. Our attempts, with his aid,
to calculate his age, were, of course con-
jectural ; but we were satisfied that he
was far above one hundred. Bald,
toothless, nearly blind, bent almost
horizontally, and scarcely capable of
locomotion, he was absolutely alone in
the world, living by permission upon a
place, from which the generation to
which his master and fellow-servants
belonged had long since disappeared.
He expressed man/ an earnest wish for
death, and declared emphatically, that
he " was afraid God Almighty had for-
gotten him."
We cannot wonder that the ancients
should believe, " Whom the gods love,
224
DEATH.
die young," and are ready to say, with
Southey himself, subsequently, like
poor Swift, a melancholy example of
the truth of his poetical exclamation,
"They who reach
Grey hairs die piecemeal.'
Sacred history informs us, that, in
the infancy of the world, the physiolo-
gical tendency to death was far less
urgently and early developed than it is
now. When the change took place is
not stated; if it occurred gradually, the
downward progress has been long since
arrested. All records make the journey
of life, from the time of Job and the
early patriarchs, much the same as the
pilgrim of to-day is destined to travel.
Threescore and ten was, when Cheops
built his pyramid, as it is now, a long
life. Legends, antique and modern,
do indeed tell us of tribes that, like
Riley's Arabs and the serfs of Middle
Russia, and the Ashantees and other
Africans, live two or three centuries ;
but these are travellers' stories, uncon-
firmed. The various statistical tables
that have been in modern times made
up from materials more or less authen-
tic, and the several inquiries into the
general subject of longevity, seem to
lead to the gratifying conclusion that
there is rather an increase of the aver-
age or mean duration of civilised life.
In 1806, Duvillard fixed the average
duration of life in France at twenty-
eight years : in 1846,Bousquet estimated
it at thirty-three. Mallet calculated that
the average life of the Genevese had ex-
tended ten years in three generations.
In Farr's fifth report (for 1844), the
"probable duration," the "expectation
of life" in England, is placed above
forty, a great improvement within half
a century. It is curious, if it be true,
that the extreme term seems to lessen
as the average thus increases. Mallet is
led to this opinion from the fact, among
others, that in Geneva, coincident with
the generally favourable change above-
mentioned, there has not been a singie
centenarian vrithin twenty-seven years ;
such instances cf longevity having been
formerly no rarer there than elsewhere.
Birds and fishes are said to be the
longest lived animals. For the longevity
of the latter, ascertained in fish-ponds,
Bacon gives the whimsical reason that,
in the moist element which surrounds
them, they are protected from exsicca-
tion, of the vital juices, and thus pre-
served. This idea corresponds very well
with the stories told of the uncalculatcd
ages of some of the inhabitants of the
bayous of Louisiana, and of the happy
ignorance of that region, where a
traveller once found a withered and
antique corpse so goes the tale
sitting propped in an arm-chair among
his posterity, who could not compre-
hend why he slept so long and so
soundly.
But the Hollanders and Burmese do
not live especially long ; and the Arab,
always lean and wiry, leads a protracted
life amidst his arid sands. Nor can we
thus account for the lengthened age of
the crow, the raven, and the eagle,
which are affirmed to hold out for two
or three centuries.
There is the same difference among
shrubs and trees, of which some are
annual, some of still more brief exist-
ence, and some almost eternal. The
venerable oak bids defiance to the
storms of a thousand winters ; and the
Indian baobab is set down as a contem-
porary at least of the Tower of Babel,
having tolerably braved, like the more
transient, though long- enduring olive,
the very waters of the great deluge.
It will be delightful to know will
Science ever discover for us what con-
stitutes the difference thus impressed
upon the long and short - lived races of
the organised creation ? Why must the
fragrant shrub orgeorgous flower-plant
die immediately after performing its
function of continuing the species, and
the pretty ephemeron languish into
non-exi-tence just as it flutters through
its genial hour of love, and grace, and
enjoyment; while the banyan, and the
chesuut, the tortoise, the vulture, and
the carp, formed of the same primary
material elements, and subsisting upon
the very same resources of nutrition
and supply, outlast them so indefi-
nitely '{
Death from old age, from natural
DEATH.
225
decay usually spoken of as death
without disease is most improperly
termed by writers an euthanasia. Alas !
how far otherwise is the truth? Old
age itself is, with the rarest exceptions,
exceptions which I have never had the
good fortune to meet with anywhere
old age itself is a protracted and terri-
ble disease.
During its whole progress, Death is
making gradual encroachments upon
the domain of life. Function after
function undergoes impairment, and is
less and less perfectly carried on, while
organ after organ suffers atrophy and
other changes, unfitting it for the per-
formance of offices to which it was
originally designed. I will not go over
the gloomy detail of the observed modi-
fications occurring in every part of the
frame, now a noble ruin, majestic even
in decay. The lungs admit and vivify
less blood ; the heart often diminishes in
size, and always acts more slowly, and
the arteries frequently ossify ; nutrition
is impeded, and assimilation deterio-
rated; senile marasmus follows, "and
the seventh age falls into the lean and
slippered pantaloon ;" and last, worst of
all, the brain, and indeed the whole ner-
vous tissue, shrink in size and weight,
undergoing at the same time more or
less change of structure and composi-
tion. As the skull cannot contract on
its contents, the" shrinking of the brain
occasions a great increase of the fluid
within the subarachnoid space. Com-
munication with the outer world, now
tibout to be cut off entirely, becomes
limited and less intimate. The eyes
grow dim ; the ear loses ib aptitude for
harmony, and soon ceases to appre-
ciate sound ; odours yield no fragrance ;
flavours affect not the indifferent
palate ; and even the touch appreciates
only harsh and coarse impressions. The
locomotive power is lost ; the capillaries
refuse to circulate the dark, thick
blood ; the extremities retain no longer
their vital warmth ; the breathing slow
and oppressed, more and more difficult,
at last terminates for ever with a deep
expiration. This tedious process is
rarely accomplished in the manner
indicated without interruption: it is
No. 8.
usually, nay, as far as my experience
has gone, always brought to an abrupt
close by the supervention of some
positive malady. In our climate this
is, in the larger proportion, an affection
of the respiratory apparatus, bronchitis,
or pulmonitis. It will, of course, vary
with the original or constitutional pre-
disposition of the individual, and some-
what in relation to locality and season.
Many aged persons die of apoplexy and
its kindred cerebral maladies ; not a
few of diarrhoea ; a winter epidemic of
influenza is apt to be fatal to them in
large numbers everywhere.
When we regard death pathologically,
that is, as the result of violence and
destructive disease, it is evident that
the phenomena presented will vary
relatively to the contingencies effective
in producing it. It is obviously out of
place here to recount them, forming as
they do a vast collection of instructive
facts, the basis of an almost separate
science, Morbid Anatomy.
There are many of the phenomena of
death, however, that are common to all
forms and modes of death, or are
rarely wanting ; these are highly
interesting objects of study themselves,
and assume a still greater importance
when we consider them in the light of
signs or tokens of the extinction of life.
It seems strange that it has been found
difficult to agree upon any such signs
short of molecular change or putrefac-
tive decomposition, that shall be pro-
nounced absolutely certain, and calcu-
lated entirely to relieve us from the
horrible chance of pi'emature interment
cf a body yet living. The flaccidity of
the cornea is dwelt on by some ; others
trust rather to the rigor mortis, the
rigid stiffness of the limbs and
trunk supervening upon the cold
relaxation which attends generally the
last moments. This rigidity is not
understood or explained satisfactorily.
It is impossible that, as Matteucci
has proved, the' changes in all
the tissues, chiefly chemical or
chemico-vital, are the source from
whence is generated the " nervous
force " during life ; so, after death
the similar changes, now purely chemi-
DEATH.
cal, may, for a brief period, continue to
generate the same or a similar force,
which is destined to expand itself sim-
ply upon the muscular fibres, in dis-
posing them to contract. There is a
vague analogy here with the effect of
galvanism upon bodies recently dead,
which derives some little force from
the fact that the bodies least disposed
to respond to the stimulus of galvanism
are those which form the exceptions to
the almost universal exhibition of rigi-
dity those, namely, which have been
killed by lightning, and by blows on
the pit of the stomach. Some poisons,
too, leave the corpse quite flaccid and
flexible.
The researches of Dr. Bennett Dow-
ler, of New Orleans, have presented us
with results profoundly impressive,
startling, and instructive. He has, with
almost unequalled zeal, availed himself
of opportunities of performing autopsy
at a period following death of unprece-
dented promptness, that is, within a
few minutes after the last struggle, and
employed them with an intelligent
curiosity and to admirable purpose.
I have said that, in physiological
death, the natural decay of advancing
age, there is a gradual encroachment of
death upon life ; so here, in premature
death from violent diseases, the con-
trasted analogy is offered of life main-
taining its ground far amidst the de-
structive changes of death. Thus, in
cholera asphyxia, the body, for an inde-
finite period after all other signs of life
have ceased, is agitated by horrid
spasms, and violently contorted. We
learn from Dr. Dowler that it is not
only in these frightful manifestations,
and in the cold stiffness of the familiar
rigor mortis, that we are to trace this
tenacious muscular contraction as the
last vital sign, but that in all, or almost
all cases, we shall find it lingering, not
in the heart, anciently considered iu
its right ventricle the ultimum moriens,
nor in any other internal fibres, but in
the muscles of the limbs, the biceps
most obstinately. This muscle will
contract, even after the arm with the
scapula has been torn from the trunk,
upon receiving a sharp blow, so as to
lie forearm from the table, to a
right angle with the upper arm.
:dso learn from him the curious
fact that the generation of animal heat,
which physiologists have chosen to
point out as a function most purely
vital, does not cease upon the super-
vention of obvious or apparent death,
There is, he tells us, a, steady develop-
ment for some time of what he terms.
" post-mortem caloricity,'' by which the
heat is carried not only above the natural
or normal standard, but to a height
rarely equalled in the most sthenic or
inflammatory forms of disease. He has
seen it reach 113 of Fahr., higher than
Hunter ever met with it, in his expe-
riments made for the purpose of excit-
ing it ; higher than it has been noted
even in scarlatina ; 112, I think, being
the ultimate limit observed in that
disease of pungent external heat ; and
far beyond the natural heat of the
central parts of the healthy body, which
is 97 or 98. Nor is it near the cen-
tre, or at the trunk, that the post-
mortem warmth is greatest, but, for
some unknown reason, at the inner part
of the thigh, above the lower margin of
its upper third. I scarcely know any
fact in nature more incomprehensible
or inexplicable than this. We were sur-
prised when it was first told UE, that, hi
the Asiatic pestilence, the body of the
livid victim was often colder before than
after death ; but this I think is easily
understood. The profluvia of cholera,
and its profound capillary stagnation,
concur in carrying off all the heat gene-
rated, and in preventing or impeding
the development of animal heat. No
vital actions, no changes necessaiy to
the production of caloric, can proceed
without the minute circulation which
has been checked by the asphyiated con-
dition of the subject, while the fluids
leave the body through every outlet, and
evaporation chills the whole exposed
j and relaxed surface. Yet the lingering
influence of a scarcely perceptible vi-
tality prevents the purely chemical
changes of putrefactive decomposition,
' which commence instantly upon the
j extinction of this feeble resistance, and
j caloric is evolved by the processes of
ordinary delay.
DEATH.
227
In the admirable liturgy of the
churches of England and of Rome, there
is a fervent prayer for protection against
"battle, murder, and sudden death."
From death uncontemplated, unar-
ranged, unprepared for, may Heaven in
mercy deliver us ! But if ever ready, as
we should be for the inevitable event,
the most kindly mode of infliction must
surely be that which is most prompt
and brief. To die unconsciously, as in
sleep, or by apoplexy, or lightning, or
overwhelming violence, as in the cata-
strophe of the Princeton, this is the
true Euthanasia. " Csesar," says Sue-
tonius, "finem vitae commodissimum,
repentinum inopinatumque prsetulerat."
Montaigne who quotes this, renders it,
"La moins pre'me'dite'e et la plus courte."
" Mortes repentinaj," reasons Pliny,
" hoc est suinrna vitse felicitas," " Emori
nolo," exclaims Cicero, " sed me esse
mortuum nihil estimo."
Sufferers by various modes of execu-
tion were often, in the good old times
of our merciless ancestors, denied as
long as possible the privilege of dying,
and the Indians of North America utter
a fiendish howl of disappointment when
a victim thus prematurely escapes from
their ingenious malignity. The coup
de grace was a boon unspeakably desired
by the poor wretch broken on the
wheel, or stretched upon the accursed
cross, and forced to linger on with man-
gled and bleeding limbs, amidst all the
cruel torments of thirst and fever,
through hours and even days that must
have seemed interminable.
The progress of civilisation, and a
more enlightened humanity, have ptit
an end to all these atrocities, and sub-
stituted the gallows, the garrotte, and
the guillotine, which inflict deaths so
sudden that many have questioned
whether they necessarily imply any con-
sciousness o physical suffering. These
are, however, by no means, the most in-
stantaneous modes of putting an end to
life and its manifestations. In the
hanged, as in the drowned and other-
wise suffocated, there is a period of un-
certainty, during which the subject is,
as we know, recoverable ; we dare not
pronounce him insensible. He who
has seen an ox "pithed" in the slaughter-
house, or a game cock in all the flush
and excitement of battle " gaffed" in the
occiput or back of the neck, will con-
trast the immediate stiffness and relaxa-
tion of the flaccid body with the pro-
longed and convulsive struggles of the
decapitated bird, with a sort of curious
anxiety to know how long and in what
degree sensibility may linger in the
head and in the trunk when severed by
the sharp axe. The history of the guil-
lotine offers many incidents calculated
to throw a doubt on the subject, and the
inquiries of Seguret and Sue seem to
prove the existence of post-mortem pas-
sion and emotion.
Among the promptest modes of ex-
tinguishing life is the electric fluid. A
flash of lightning will destroy the co-
agulability of the blood, as well as the
contractibility of the muscular fibre;
the dead body remaining flexible. A
blow on the epigastrium kills instantly,
with the same results. Soldiers fall
sometimes in battle without a wound;
the impulse of a cannon-ball passing
near the pit of the stomach is here sup-
posed to be the cause of death. The
effect in these last two instances is as-
cribed by some to " a shock given to
the semilunar ganglion, and the com-
munication of the impression to the
heart;" but this is insufficient to ac-
count either for the quickness of the
occurrence, or the peculiar changes im-
pressed upon the solids and fluids,
Others are of opinion that the whole set
of respiratory nerves is paralysed
through the violent shock given to the
phrenic, "thus shutting up," as one
writer expresses it, " the fountain of all
the sympathetic actions of the system."
This hypothesis is liable also to the ob-
jections urged above ; and we must
acknowledge the suddenness and cha-
racter of the results described to be as
yet unexplained, and in the present
state of our knowledge altogether inex-
plicable.
On the field of battle, it has been ob-
served that the countenances of those
killed by gun-shot wounds are usually
placid, while those who perish by the
sword, bayonet, pike, or lance, offer
DEATH.
visages distorted by pain, or by emotions
of anger or impatience. Poisons differ
much among themselves as to the amount
and kind of suffering they occasion. We
know of none which are absolutely free
from the risk of inflicting severe dis-
tress. Prussic acid gives perhaps the
briefest death which we have occasion
to observe. I have seen it, as Taylor
states, kill an animal, when applied to
the tongue or the eye, almost before the
hand which offered it could be removed.
Yet in the case of Tawell, tried for the
murder of Sarah Hart, by this means,
there was abundant testimony that
many, on taking it, had time to utter a
loud and peculiar scream of anguish :
and in a successful attempt at suicide
made by a physician of New York city,
we have a history of appalling suffering
and violent convulsion. So I have seen
ill suicide with opium, which generally
gives an easy and soporose death re-
sembling that of apoplexy, one or two
iastances in which there were very
great and long-protracted pain and
sickness.
Medical writers have agreed, very
generally, that " the death-struggle/'
' the agony of death," as it has long been
termed, is not what it appears, a stage
of suffering. I am not satisfied I say
it reluctantly I am not satisfied with
these consolatory views, so ingeniously
and plausibly advocated by Wilson,
Philip, and Symonds, Hufeland, and
Hoffman. I would they were true !
But all the symptoms look like tokens
or expressions of distress ; we may hope
that they are not always such in reality :
but how can this be proved ? Those
who, having seemed to die, recovered
afterwards and declared that they had
undergone no pain, do not convince me
of the fact any more than the somnam-
bulist, who upon awaking, assures me
that he has not dreamed at all, after a
whole night of action, and connected
thought, and effected purpose. His
memory retains no traces of the ques-
tionable past ; like that of the epileptic,
who forgets the whole train of events,
and is astonished after a horrible fit to
find his tongue bitten, and his face and
limbs bruised and swollen.
Nay, some have proceeded to the
paradoxical extreme of suggesting that
certain modes of death are attended
with pleasurable sensations, as for in-
stance, hanging; and a late reviewer,
who regards this sombre topic with a
most cheerful eye, gives us instances
which he considers in point. I have
seen many men hung, forty at least a
\ strangely large number. In all, there
were evidences of suffering, as far as
could be judged by external appear-
ances. It once happened that a certain
set were slowly executed, owing to a
maladroit arrangement of the scaffold
upon which they stood, which gave way
only at one end. The struggles of such
| as were half supported were dreadful,
and those of them who could speak
earnestly begged that their agonies
should be put an end to.
In former, nay, even in recent times,
we are told that pirates and robbers
have resorted to half hanging to extort
confession as to hidden treasure. Is it
possible that they can have so much
mistaken the means they employ as
thus to use pleasurable appliances for
the purposes of torture ?
The mistake of most reasoners on the
j subject, Winslow and Hufeland more
especially, consists in this, that they fix
their attention exclusively upon the
final moments of dissolution. But the
act of dying may be in disease, as we
know it to be in many modes of violence,
impalement for example, or crucifixion,
very variously protracted and progres-
sive. " Insensibly as we enter life," says
Hufeland, " equally insensibly do we
leave it. Man can have no sensation of
dying." Here the insensibility of death
completed, that is, of the dead boily, is
strangely predicated of the moribund
while still living. This transitive con-
dition, to use the graphic language of
the American writer whom we have
already more than once quoted, is " a
terra incognita, where vitality, extin-
guished in some tissues, smouldering
in others, and disappearing gradually
from all, resembles the region of a vol-
cano, whose eruptions subsiding, leave
the surface covered with cinders and
ashes, concealing the rents and lesions
A CHAPTER ON NAMES.
229
which have on all sides scarred and
disfigured the face of nature."
Besides this, we have no right to
assume, as Hufeland has here done, the
insensibility of the child at birth. It is
subject to disease before birth ; as soon
as it draws a breath, it utters loud
cries and sobs. To pronounce all its
actions " mechanical, instinctive, neces-
sary, automatic," in fact, is a very easy
solution of the question; but I think
neither rational nor conclusive. If you
prick it or burn it, you regard its cries
as proving sensibility to pain ; but on
the application of air to its delicate and
hitherto protected skin, and the disten-
sion of its hitherto quiet lung, the same
cry you say is mechanical and inexpres-
sive. So Leibnitz explained, to his own
satisfaction, the struggles and moans of
the lower animals as automatic, being
embarrased with metaphysical and moral
difficulties on the score of then* intelli-
gence and liability to suffering. But no
one now espouses his theory, and we
must accept, whether we can explain
them or not, the facts that the lower
animals are liable to pain during their
entire existence, and that the heritage
of their master is, from and during
birth to the last moment of languishing
vitality, a sad legacy of woe and suffer-
ing.
But I recoil from further discussion
of a topic so full of awe and solemn in-
terest, and conclude this prosaic " Tha-
natopsis " with the Miltonian strain of
Bryant :
" So live, that, when thy summons comes to
join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each
shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death.
Thou go not like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained and
soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave ;
Like one who wraps the drapery of his
couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant
dreams."
TUINGS LOST FOR EVER. Lost wealth
may be restored by industry the
wreck of health regained by temperance.
A CHAPTER ON NAMES.
(See Enquire within, 1 40.)
" WHAT'S in a name ? "
Love is a sophist, and the implied
but false answer to Juliet's impassioned
query is, " Nothing ! " Nothing ?
Everything, rather, in thy case,
" White dove of Verona ! " enough at
least to raise a barrier between thee
and the Romeo of thy heart-worship,
which even love cannot surmount !
Such, it seems to me, is the teaching of
Shakspere, in the play ; and the
world's experience confirms it.
The ancient Greeks attached great
importance to names. Plato recom-
mends parents to be careful to give
happy ones to their children ; and the
Pythagorians taught that the minds,
actions, and success of men were ac-
cording to the appellations which they
bore. The Romans seem to have been
equally impressed with the same idea.
Bonum nomen bonum omen, became a
popular maxim among them. To se-
lect bona nomina was always an ob-
ject of solicitude, and it was considered
quite enough to damn a man that he
bore a name of evil import. Livy,
speaking of such an appellation, calls
it abominandi ominis nomen, A similar
belief prevailed among all the nations of
antiquity. It embodied a truth which
has not yet lost its significance and im-
portance. To a man with the name of
Higgins or Snooks, no amount of talent
or genius is of any avail. He cannot
possibly raise himself above a very
humble sphere of usefulness. Or let an
unfortunate biped have attached to
him the appellation of Gotobed, a name
which has been borne by many a wor-
thy individual, and he may quite inno-
cently sleep all day ! His waking
efforts can effect nothing to elevate him
to any position of honour or distinc-
tion. He bears about him the doom of
everlasting mediocrity." John is a
most excellent name, and Smith is a
surname which is worthy of respect
and honour, but woe to the man on
whom they are conjoined ! For John
Smith to aspire to senatorial dignities
or to the laurel of the poet is simply
230
A n i. \rrai ox NAMES.
ridiculous. Who is John Smith ? He
is lost iu the multitude of John
Smiths, and individual fame is impos-
sible.
All names were originally significant,
and were always Kotowed by the an-
cients with reference to their well-
understood ineaniiiLT. Sometimes they
were commemorative of some incident
or circumstance connected with the
birth of the individual bearing them :
as, Thomas, a twin: Mains, May (ap-
plied to one born in that month) ;
Septimus, the seventh. In other cases
they were expressive of the aspirations,
desires, or hopes of the parents : as,
Victor, one who conquers ; Probus,
truthful; Felix, happy; Benedict,
blessed. Not unfrequently they were
descriptive of personal qualities : as
Macros, tall ; Pyrrhus, ruddy ; Rufus,
red-Tin
Names are as significant now as they
were in the days of Plato, and as im-
portant, but we ignorantly or carelessly
misapply them, making of them the
most absurd misnomers. "A man
with the name of George or Thomas,"
as Leigh Hunt very justly observes,
" might as well, to all understood pur-
poses, be called Spoon or Hat-band ! "
Blanche is now anything but the flaxen-
haired blonde which her name indicates.
Isabel is no longer brown. Cecilia
(grey-eyed) belies her name, and " lets
fly the arrows of love" from orbs of
heavenly blue. Rebecca, who ought to
be somewhat embonpoint, " rounded
into beauty," as the poet hath it, is
perhaps a slender, lily-like maiden,
better suiting the name of Susan. As
thus misapplied, our personal nomen-
clature is worse than meaningless. We
should deem the person either hope-
lessly insane or uupardonably ignorant,
who should, in science or in business,
thus misuse well-understood terms.
We are not disposed to enter the
domain of the abstract, and show that
there is an inherent fitness in names
for persons and things ; a correspond-
ence between the word-symbol and the
object which it was originally intended
to represent, intuitively recognised by
the soul, though perhaps not fully com-
prehended. Our design is a more prac-
tical one.
Ada is well known as the name of
Byron's only daughter. It is from the
Saxon (Edith, Eadith, or Eade, Ada),
and signifies happy.
" Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child,
Ada ?"
Adelaide is of German derivation,
and has the meaning of a princess.
"A little maid,
Golden-tressed Adelaide:' 1
Adeline is only a different form of
the same name.
" What aileth thee ? \vhotn waitest thou,
With thy soften'd, shadow'd brow,
And those dew-lit eyes of thine,
Thou faint smiler, Adeline ?"
Agatha, good, is from the Greek. To
be worthy of this name, indicative as it
is of all the virtues, is an object which
may well enlist the highest ambition of
the fair ones who bear it, whether
maidens or wives.
Agnes, chaste, is also from the Greek,
and is one of the best names in use
among us. None but pure, gentle, and
loving beings, it Avould seem, should
bear it ; but in one case, at least, it has
belonged to one in whom the heroic
predominated over every gentle senti-
ment : Black Agnes, of Dunbar, who, as
the reader of history will recollect, kept
her husband's castle, like a lioness,
against his enemies :
" Twine ye roses, for the brow
Of the lady of my vow,
My Agnes fair ! "
Alfred is Saxon, and signifies all-
peace. It is a good name, and should
be a favourite among us, boasting as we
do of our Saxon descent, and tracing
some of our free institutions to the
great and good king who bore it " in
the olden time."
Alicia, or Alice, is from the Latin, and
has the meaning of noble. It is one of
the sweetest of our female names :
" Oh that I were beside her now,
Oh ! will .she answer if I c.ill ?
Oh ! would she give me vow for vow,
Sweet Alice, if I told her all ?"
A CHAPTER ON NAMES.
231
Alphonso is said to be the Spanish
form of the aucient Gothic Elfans, our
help. It is a euphonious name, but is
now seldom used. Byron damned it to
everlasting ridiculousness in one of his
inimitable rhymes :
" Ungrateful, perjured, barbarous Don
Alphonso,
I really wonder how you can go on so 1"
Amelia, or Amelie (French, Aime'e),
signifies beloved. Amy, or Amie, and
Emily, have the same derivation and
meaning. Our vocabulary contains no
sweeter or more loveable name. Happy
is she who bears a name pregnant with
such sacred significance, and happy the
man who is privileged to whisper it in
her ear as the highest word of endear-
ment. Ami^e, beloved ! The reader
will recollect, in connection with this
name, that dark page in the romance of
history which records the sad fate of
Amy Robsart.
Anna, or Annie (Hebrew, Hannah),
signifies kind or ymcious.
Arabella (French, Arabelle) is of Latin
derivation/ and has the meaning of
beautiful altar. Before no place of sac-
rifice bend devouter worshipper :
" Bella, Arabella, belle,
Fairer than my verse can tell
Well
I love thee, Arabelle
Seller
Augustus, increasing, is from the
Latin, and signifies that those who origi-
nally bore it continually grew in power
and honour. It has been a favourite
name in kingly and princely palaces,
but princes have no monopoly of it. Its
feminine form is Augusta.
Baldwin, a bold winner, is a fine name
of the old Saxon stock.
Barbara is of Latin derivation, and
signifies strange or foreign. Its menti n
recalls to our minds the melancholy
fate of Jemmy Grove, of ballad memory,
who died at Scarlet Town of a broken
heart (poor fellow !),
" For love of Barbara Allen 1"
Basil, kingly, is of Greek origin. It
can hardly be a popular name in these
republican times.
Beatrice is one who blesses or make*
happy. Blessed (Benedict) is he on
whom she smiles. No name can be
more appropriate for a lovely and affec-
tionate woman. Dante immortalised it,
and Shakspere and Shelley have thrown
around it the charm of their numbers.
It is derived from the Latin. Why is
it not more frequently used ?
Benjamin, son of the right hand, is a
fine old Hebrew name, and has been
borne by men of renown, among whom
were Jonson and Franklin.
Bertha, bright or famous, is a fine
name of Greek origin, and should be
more common.
Bianca is the Italian form of Blanche,
which, as I have already hinted, has the
meaning of white or fair. It is a sweet
name in both forms, and should be fit-
tingly bestowed.
Calista, from the Greek, is beautiful.
Catherine, or Katharine, derived from
the Greek, is pure or chaste, and is one
of the best of our female names. In
j the Irish it becomes Kathleen, and in
| the Flemish, Kateline. A pretty dimi-
nutive of Catherine is Katharina ; but
I like it best in its familiarised form of
Kate. Who ever knew a Kate who
was not frolicsome, mischievous, and
saucy ? What says the poet ?
" Kate's a sweet but saucy creature,
With a lip of scarlet bloom ;
Woodbines sipping golden sun-light,
Roses drinking rich perfume ;
Voice as dainty as the whisper
Founts give in their crystal shrine :
Saucy Kate, so full of mischief,
Would that I could call thee mine!"
The shrew-taming Petruchio, in the
play, thus harps upon the name :
" You are called plain Kate,
And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the
cross ;
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,
Kate of Kate-Hall, my super-dainty Kate,
For all cales are dainties."
The name of Catharine, disgraced by
her of Medici, was honoured by the
noble but unfortunate queen of Henry
VIII., whom the pen of a Shakapere
and the voice of a Siddons have im-
mortalised.
Charles: some etymologists derive
232
A CHAPTER ON NAMES.
this illustrious name from the German
Iccrl ; Anglo-Saxon eeorl or churl; a
term denoting rusticity, and quite op-
posed to every idea of nobility. Its
real origin may probably be found in
the Sclavonic krol, a king. Thus : Krol,
Korol, Karolus, Carolus, Charles. Krol
may have come from the Latin corona or
corolla, a crown. Charles, then, is a
king, or one who is crowned. This
seems an appropriate signification for a
name which has been borne by BO
many kings and emperors. Charles
sometimes occurs in this country in the
Spanish form, Carlos. Charlotte is one
of the feminine forms of Charles, and,
if we accept the foregoing etymology,
signifies a queen. Those who derive
the name from the German, give it the
signification of prevailing. I have no
quarrel here with the etymologist. All
Charlottes may be queens of love, and
being queens must prevail over the
hearts of men. Charlotte Corday will
be remembered as one not unworthy of
so brave a name. But
" My Charlotte conquers with a smile,
And reigneth queen of love !"
In the home-circle and among her com-
panions, Charlotte lays aside her queen-
ship, and becomes gentle Lottie. Ca-
roline is the feminine of Charles, in
another form, and of course has the
same meaning as Charlotte. It is an-
other noble and queenly name, and
has been borne by many a noble wo-
man. Caroline assumes the familiar-
ised or pet forms of Carrie, Gallic, Caro,
and Gal.
"Oh! a thing of earth, but half divine,
Is she, my fair young Caroline !"
Clara, clear or bright, is from the
Latin. It is a very pretty name, and
is immortalised in one of the best of
Scott's novels, "St. Ronan's Well."
Clarissa is from the same root, as is
Claribel, bright and beautiful :
"Diamonds bright shall Clara wear,
Woven 'mid her shining hair."
Daniel, a judge, is from the Hebrew.
David, also from the Hebrew, signi-
fies, veil beloved.
Deborah, signifying a bee, is another
good but rather homely name from the
Hebrew stock.
Earine, vernal, a name immortalised
by Ben Jonson, should certainly be re-
vived.
Edward is a truth-keeper. The name
is of Saxon derivation, and is sur-
rounded by rich historical associations.
Its French form is Edouard.
Edwin, happy winner (bonum nomcn
bonem omen,) is also from the Saxon.
Eleanor (Fr. , Eleanore) is of Saxon
derivation, and signifies all-fruitful.
" Eleanor,
A name for angels to murmur o'er ! "
Emma, tender, affectionate (literally,
one who nurses, cares for, watches over
another), is of German origin. Who
could desire his mother, his sister, or
his beloved, to bear a sweeter or a
better name ? Under the form of Imma
it was honoured by Charlemagne's fail-
daughter, whose love -history, in con-
nection with Eginhard, her father's,
secretary, forms one of the prettiest
episodes in the chronicles of the time.
Emmeline is simply a diminutive of
Emma.
Erasmus is from the Greek, and sig-
nifies worthy to be loved.
Ernest, ernest, is derived from the
German. Its feminine form is Ernes-
tine.
Eugene, nobly descended, is of Greek
derivation. In the feminine, in which
it ought to be oftener used, we give it
the form of Eugenia.
Everard is a good name from the
German stock, and has the meaning of
well-reported.
Francis is of German origin, and sig-
nifies frank and free. It is one of our
finest names. Frances, of which Fanny
is the familiarised or pet form, is the
feminine.
Frederick, rich peace, is another Ger-
man name of historical importance.
Frederick, the grenadier King of
Prussia, was not particularly well
named.
George, a farmer, is from the Greek.
It should be a very common name
in agricultural communities. It has
been borne by kings, and by one, at
least, who was greater than any king
A CHAPTER ON NAMES.
Washington. Georgia, Georgette, and
Georgi in a, are its feminine forms.
Gertrude is from the German, and,
according to the etymology usually
given, signifies all-truth ; but Jung-
Stilling, in his Pneumatology, gives it
a very different meaning. Speaking of
the Druids, he says : " Into this
mysterious, spiritual order, old women
were also received, who, by this means,
attained to considerable rank, and be-
came priestesses. Such individuals then
received the title of Haxa Druidess.
Both these names were, at that time,
honourable appellations ; they are now
the most disgraceful terms of reproach.
The name of Gertude, or Gertrudis, is
probably also derived from this source,
and ought reasonably to be disused, for
it has the same meaning as the word
haxa or hex?, a witch." Well, this may
be true, for Gertrudes are generally very
bewitching.
Grace, favour, is from the Latin.
Well may it be a favourite name.
Commend to me the Graces :
" You may toast your charming Sue,
Praise your Mary'3 eyes of blue,
Choose whatever name you will
Your fancy or your verse to fill :
In my line no name has place,
But the sweetest one of Grace."
Helen (Latin, Helena; French, He-
lene) is of Greek origin. The true
signification of it seems to be one of
those vezatce questiones which abound
in etymological discussions. According
to one it has the meaning of alluriug ;
another makes it signify a taker, or one
who seizes ; while a third defines it as
(Yiie who pi'ies. I am inclined to en-
dorse the lust. Many a poor unfortu-
uate lover has found Helen alluring,
and has finally been taken, svzed, con-
quered by the prestige of he." bright
eyes and sweet voice. Happy is he who
finds her one who pitws, for pity is akin
o love. Ellen is only a different form
of the same name. It is often con
tracted to Nellie and Nell., and is a fine
name in all its forms.
Henry, rich lord, is of German de-
rivation. It has been borne by many
kings, noblemen, aud patriots. In its
familiarised form it becomes Harry.
Its feminizations are Henrietta, Hen-
rica. and Harriet, who, since they can-
not be rich lords, should be rich ladies.
Isabel (French, Lsabelle; Spanish,
Isabella) signifies olive-c&mplcxioned, or
brown. This is just the name for a
" bonny bruneite ; " for such a one as
the poet praises when he sings :
" Give me the brown girl, with a bright sunny
glow!"
There is a silvery, bell-like music in the
name, which is exceedingly attractive,
and which has made it a favourite with
the poets. One says :
" Full many maidens' names there be,
Sweet to thee,
Fair to me,
And beautiful exceedingly;
But none on my ear so sweet doth sweU.
As the name of mine own " Isabel ! "
Mary Howitt, in her " Flower Com-
parisons/' has the following melodious
lines :
" Now for madcap Isabel :
What shall suit her, prythee tell !
Isabel is brown and wild;
Will be evermore a child!
Is all laughter, all vagary,
Has the spirit of a fairy.
* * * *
Isabel is short and brown,
Soft to touch as eider-down.
Tempered like the balmy South,
With a rosy, laughing mouth ;
Cheeks just tinged with peachy red,
And a graceful Hebe-head ;
Hair put up in some wild way,
Decked with the hedge-rose's spray.
Now, where is the bud or bell
That may match with Isabel ? "
James (in the French, Jacques ;
Spanish, Jayme; Italian, Giac-mo;
Scotch, Jamie) comes from the old He-
brew stock, and is generally supposed
to be the same as Jacob, and to signify
a supplanter.
John is generally supposed to be
from the Hebrew, and to signify gra-
c ous : but Talbot truces it, as he thinks,
to the Latin juvenis } a youny man. In
the Italian, it is Giovauui; in the
Spanish, Juan; and in the French,
Jean. It has been burne by some of
the greatest men that the world has
ever groduced. It was the name of
Milton, Hampden, Locke, Dryden,
334
A niAPTKU ON NAMF.S.
Howard, Moliere, Boccaccio, Hancock,
Adams, Calhoun. Shakespere bestowed
it upon one of his best characters, the
fat knight who was wont to su scribe
himself, " Jack Falsta IV with my fami-
liars ; John with my brothel's and sis-
ters ; and Sir John with the rest of
Europe." The name is a great favourite
with the very respectable and some-
what numerous family of Smiths; and
probably the most noted of all the
Johns, ancient or modern, is John
Smith. The commonness of the name
is the only valid objection to it. It has
ceased to be sufficiently distinctive, and
one sympathizes with the lament of an
unfortunate bearer of the ancient and
honoured but much-abused name :
" Why did they call me John, I say,
Why did they call me John ?
It's surely just the meanest name
They could have hit upon !
Because my father had it too,
And suffered for the same,
Is that a proper reason he
Should propagate the name ? "
The English are prone to convert John
into Jack, and the Scotch into Jock,
neither of which is either elegant or
genteel.
Judith, from the Hebrew, signifies
praising.
Julius, soft-haired, is of Latin origin.
Julia, Julietta, Juliet, and Julianna are
feminizat ions of Julius, and should wear
on their queenly heads "soft and silken
tresses." Julia needs no eulogist, since
she is one whom the poets have immor-
talized. Julietta, or Juliet, is a diini
native of Julia ; " but has," as Talbot
remarks, " apparently united itself with
another name, Joliette, the diminutive
of jolie, pretty"
Letitia, joy, is one of the happiest as
well as the sweetest of names. The
woman we love should be " a joy for
ever" to our hearts. It is a good old
Roman name.
Leonard is from the German, and sig-
nifies lion-like.
Mabel is probably from ma bella, my
fair, though some think it a contraction
of amabilis, lovely or amiable. The fair
ones who bear it have no reason to com-
plain oi either derivation.
Madeleine, (Syriac, Magdalene), mag*
nijiceiit, is a noble name, and a favourite
with tht- poets. It often occurs in the
French form of Madeleine :
" Thou art not steeped in golden languors,
No tranced summer calm is thine,
Ever varying Madeleine !"
Margaret, a pearl, is from the Latin,
margarita. Another, and, if possible,
a more beautiful signification has
curiously enough attached itself to this
name. The German word magd, a maid,
was anciently written maycte and maghet,
which words were easily confused with
Madge and Maggie, and thus with Mar-
garet. Daisies were also called maghets t
maids or margarets, whence we have
the French marguerites, daisies. Mar-
garet, then may be a pearl or daisy, as
she chooseth ; or she may, if she will,
combine the beauty and purity of both,
in her life and character, and thus prove
herself worthy of her doubly signifi-
cant name. But maidens are something
more than pearls or daisies, and well
may the poet ask,
" Where may the bright flower be met
That can match with Margaret?/'
Martha is a pleasant name from the
Hebrew, but is unfortunate in its signi-
fication, meaning bitterness I
Mary. This sweetest of all female
names is from the Hebrew, and has the
meaning of exalted ; a tiaily appropriate
signification. It is a famous name, both,
iu sacred and in profane history. In
all ages it has literally been exalted.
From Mary the mother of Jesus, to
Mary, the mother of Washington, the
glory has not departed from the name.
It has been linked with titles and power,
with crowns and coronets, and adorned
by goodness and beauty. It has ever
been a favourite with the poets. Byron,
as he assurss us, felt an absolute \>.
for it. It is inwoven with some of his
sweetest verses. It is stiii the theme
of bards and bardlings innumerable.
41 The very music of the name has gone
Into our being."
In the French, Mary becomes Marie*
Maria is another form of it.
A CHAPTER ON NAMES.
235
" Is thy name Mary, maiden fair ?
Such should, methinks, its music be,
The sweetest name that mortals bear
Is but befitting thee!"
Matilda is from the Greek, and signi-
fies noble or stately.
Miranda, admired, is from the Latin.
Priuce Ferdinand, in the "Tempest,"
exclaims,
"Admired Miranda! indeed the top of
admiration."
Nancy, it is believed, may be traced
to the same source as Anna and Hannah,
which have the same signification, kind
or gracious.
Oliver is from the Latin word oliva,
an olive-tree, and is thus significant of
peace. Olivia and Olive are its femi-
nine form.
Phoebo is a bright and beautiful name;
one full of the happiest significance
Phoebe, light of life ! What more or
better can a lover or husband desire ?
Those who have read Hawthorne's
"House of the Seven Gables," (and
who has not ?) will here recall to their
minds the sweet-tempered, cheerful,
and warm-hearted country-maiden who
brought the sunshine and the fragrance
of the fields with her, to enliven and
purify the dark, damp, and mouldy old
mansion of the Pyncheons. She was
rightly named Phoebe.
Philemon is one who kisses. I think
it is of Greek derivation.
Philip, a lover of horses, is from the
Greek.
Rose (Latin, rosa) a rose, is sweet
enough for the name of a fairy, or an
angel. There is a veritable fragrance in
it. It calls up visions of garden arbours
and embowering shrubs and vines. It
is poetical as well as euphonic :
" Where the Junita flows,
And the forest shades repose,
Dwelleth she, my lovely Rose,
In rural grace."
Rosabel (Italian, rosa-bella) is from
the same Latin root, but comes to us
the Italian. It signifies fair or beauti-
ful rose Rosalie, (French, rose et Us !}
rose and lily, combines the fragance and
beauty of two lovely flowers :
" I love to forget ambition
And hope in the mingled thought
Of valley, and wood, and meadow,
Where whilome, my spirit caught
Affection's holiest breathing ;
Where under the skies with me,
Young Rosalie roved, aye drinking
From joy's bright Castaly."
Rosalind : it is enough to say of this
name that it is one of Shakspere's im-
mortalized appellations. The termina-
tion, lindy may have been coined by him
simply for the sake of euphony, or it
may have been derived from the Spanish
linda, neat or elegant, (rosa linda, ele-
gant rose.)
" From the east to western Ind
No jewel is like Rosalind."
Rosamond is one of the prettiest names
of the rose family. The derivation of
the last part of the word is somewhat
doubtful. Perhaps it is fmm mundi,
(French, monde,) and perhaps from the
German mund, the mouth ; so that
Rosamond may have originally been
Rosen- imind, or rosy mouth ; but Talbot
thinks that it is from the Spanish rosa,
monies, rose of the mountain, that is,
the poeony.
Richard is from the Saxon, and signi-
fies rich-hearted, or, according to ano-
ther etymology, richly honoured.
Robert, otherwise Rupert or Ru-
precht, appears to come from the old
Anglo-Saxon words ro or ru, red, and
bart, beard, red beard ; so says Talbot.
Romeo, a pilgrim, is from the Italian.
Ruth is from the Hebrew, and signi-
fies a trembler. It is a pretty name,
but is seldom used.
Sarah, a princess, is from the Hebrew.
In poetry and in familiar address it
takes the form of Sally or Sal lie, and
is found in many a love-song and ballad.
Sophia, loisdom, is from the Greek.
" Wilt thou be a nun, Sophie,
Nothing but a nun ?"
Susan, is of Hebrew origin, and has
the meaning of a lHy. In its familiarised
or pet form it becomes Sue. It is a
very pretty name, and is immortalised
in Gay's well-known ballad in which its
signification is very happily introduced
into the closing line :
236
HISTORY OF TOBACCO AND PIPES.
"Adieu ! she cried, and wav'd her lily hand."
Theodore is a fine euphonic name
from the Greek, and signifies gift of
God. Its feminine form is Theodora :
" Since we know her for an angel,
Bearing meek the common load,
Let us call her Theodora,
Gift of God!"
Viola, a violet, is derived from the
Latin. For a pure, modest, bashful
maiden, what name could be fitter.
Walter is of German origin, and signi-
fies a woodman.
"\Vi.liam is of German derivation, and
signifies dtfender of many. ( " This
name/' says Ver.stegan,the distinguished
French antiquary, " was not given an-
ciently to children, but was a title of
dignity imposed upon men from a regard
to merit. When a German had killed
a Roman, the golden helmet of the
Roman was placed upon his head, and
the soldier was honoured with the title
of Gild-helm, or golden helmet, and was
hailed as a defender." With the French
the title was Guildhaume, since Guil-
laume. The German form of William
is now Wilhelm. Wilhelmine and
Willamette are feminine forms of the
name. Those who bear them, since
they cannot be expected to occupy the
post of defenders, may well take, as the
signification of their names, worthy to
be dt feuded.
" What's in a name?"
" Imago animi, vultus, vitse, nomen, est !"
HISTORY OF TOBACCO AND
PIPES.
THAT the practice of smoking tobacco
is on the increase in this country is a
fact few, if any, will deny; and we
have thought that an article on the sub-
ject might be interesting to many of
our readers, whether enjoyers of the
weed or not.
We d<> not intend to consider the
physological effects of tobacco upon the
human system; this we will leave to
those to whom such subjects more
particularly belong. What we propose
is a sketch of the histoi-y of tobacco,
and a statement of some facts with
reference to the trade as now carried on.
The introduction of tobacco dates
from the early part of the sixteenth
century. Some seeds of the plant
were sent, in 1586, to Catherine de
Medecis, by Jean Nicot, the French
ambassidor at Portugal. It afterwards
received its botanical name Nicotlana
from him. It was at one time thought
that the term tobacco was given from its
having been imported from Tobago ;
Humboldt has, however, shown that
tobacco was the term used in the Hay tian
language to designate the pipe used by
the natives in smoking the herb, and the
term has been transferred by the
Spaniards to the herb itself, and adopted
by other nations.
Tobacco was first introduced into
England by the settlers who returned
in 1586 from the colony which they
had attempted to found in the year
proceeding, under Sir Walter Raleigh.
In the description of Virginia, in
" Hakluyt's Voyages," given by Hariatt,
who accompanied the expedition, he
states the manner in which it is used
by the natives, adding, " that the
English during the time they were in
Virginia, and since their return home,
\\ereaccustomed to smoke it after the
fashion of the Indians, and found many
rare and wonderful experiments of the
virtues thereof."
The practice of smoking spread
among the young men of fashion after
its introduction by Raleigh, as it, had pre-
viously spread amongst the Spaniards,
Portuguese, French, and other conti-
nental nations. James I. had a strong
antipathy to the use of tobacco by his
subjects ; and went so far as to write a
book upon the subject, entitled " A
Couuterblaste to Tobacco." W T e quote
the following from its pages : " It is
a custom loathsome to the eye, hateful
to the nose, harmful to the brain,
dangerous to the lungs, and in the
black stinking fume thereof, nearest
resembling the horrible Stygian smoke
of the pit that is bottomless." As
early as 1624, Pope Urban VIII. issued
a bull, excommunicating those who
smoked in churches.
'Jhe practice of snuff-taking super-
seded smoking during a considerable
HISTORY OF TOBACCO AND PIPES.
237
portion of the reigns of George II. and
III. ; since this period, however,
smoking has become general, though
the latter habit has by no means fallen
into desuetude. The universal indul-
gence in the luxury soon led govern-
ments to take it under its protection,
in the way of imposing a tax. Tobacco
yields a larger amount of revenue than
any other com nudity, with the excep-
tion of tea and sugar.
To show the extraordinary increase in
the consumption, we may state that the
duty paid in 1789, was 408,037 4s. 2d.;
and since the year 1844 it has been up-
wards of 3,500.000. It cannot be
imported in vessels under 120 tons, or
exported in vessels under 70 tons ; and
the only places allowed for import are
London, Liverpool, and a few other
principal ports.
For shipment, tobacco is packed into
hogsheads. This is done with the
greatest care, each bundle being laid
separately. When the cask is about
one quarter filled, the tobacco is com-
pressed by a powerful lever-press; the
pressure is continued several hours,
that it may become consolidated. The
cask being filled by successive stages
till it becomes so dense and compact,
that a hogshead forty-eight inches in
length, and thirty -two inches in dia-
meter, will contain 1,000 Ibs.
On its arrival in this country it is
conveyed t > bonding warehouses. Those
of the metropolis are situated at the
London Docks, immense buildings,
containing whole tiers of hogsheads,
stretching away in every distance as far
as the eye can reach. The whole are
under one roof, and there are frequently
as many as 20,000 hogsheads, averaging
1,200 Ibs. of tobacco each ! The reason
of this enormous quantity being kept
in one place is, that the duty is not
demanded while it remains at the docks,
where it is considered to be in bond.
A small rent is paid during rs stay
here '1 his operation is rendered neces-
sary by the high import duty, which
renders it better for the owner to
sacrifice a large quantity of tobacco
which may have become impaired in
value, than to pay the duty upon it.
The State does not compel the
damaged portion to be released from
bond, but allows it to be burnt, without
duty having been paid upon it. It is
consumed in a furnace on the premises,
which, with its chimney, is familiarly
termed the " Queen's tobacco-pipe."
The ashes are sold for manure, for
which they possess good qualities,
one ton of ashes being used to manure
four acres of ground.
The various kinds of tobacco owe their
different qualities to many different
circumstances. Some on the colour of
the leaf, some on the extent to which
the leaf is liquored, and some on the
fineness of the fibres into which it is
cut.
" Birdseye " is produced by cutting
up the stalk together with the leaf,
a plan never adopted with any other
form of tobacco. " Returns " is made
of the lightest coloured leaf selected
from the hogshead; and this lightness
is preserved by caution in the subse-
quent arrangements. A considerable
quantity of water, in the process of
liquoring, has a tendency to darken the
colour of the leaf, as has likewise an
excessive amount of pressure when in
the form of cake, by using a small
amount both of moisture and pressure :
therefore the lightness of "Returns'"
is preserved.
The strong tobacco called "Shag"
owes its quality to different circum-
stances, the first of which is the choice
of the darkest leaves from the hogshead.
In the subsequent processes the tobacco
is well " liquored," and screwed down
into the press with great force.
"Shag" tobacco is subdivided into
two sorts, "fine and common," the
chief difference between which is in the
diameter of the fibres into which the
leaves are cut.
Many of the names by which tobacco
is known were given from the names of
the places whence it was brought, and
from other circumstances having but
little reference to the quality of the
tobacco. " Oronoco," a name given to
one kind of tobacco, was given from
the South American river of that name.
"Kanaster," or "Canaster," was origin-
HISTORY OF TOBACCO AND PIPES.
ally the name given in Amor.
of rushes or caue iu which they
put the tobacco sent to EUIMJH-: ami
hence tlie designation of " Kanaeter "
tobat-oo was given to the leaves im-
ported in those baskets. At present the
two kinds by tlic.-c names are manu-
factured from the best leaf, generally
from Havunnah.
" Oronoco '' is cut finely, somewhat
similar to fine " Shag." This forms the
chief difference between the two kinds,
the quality and preparation being, in
other respects, about equal.
The kind of tobacco to smoke is very
much determined by latitude. The
inhabitants of the north prefer a strong
tobacco; and in our own country the
great body of smokers, the working
classes, use "Shag" tobacco. The in-
habitants of those countries approach-
ing the tropics choose a mild and
aromatic tobacco.
Of the many ways in which tobacco
is used in England, none has had a
more .striking advance, within the last
few years, than cigars.
Although much used in Spain, and
the tropical regions of America, it was,
till a few years since, scarcely known in
England, except to the higher class of
ymokers ; but now, every stripling who
is just shooting up into manhood, tbinks
a cigar indispensable, as a symbol
whereby the world may know that he
has at length become a man ; and, that
the information may be more widely
diffused, he pursues his new vocation
in the open street.
The rate of duty on foreign cigars (nine
shillings per pound, about sixteen or
eighteen times the real value of the leaf)
is so heavy, that the quantity imported
from abroad is very email compared
with that of tobacco in the leaf. This
rate of duty, therefore, has given rise
to an extensive home manufacture of
cigars.
In the opinion of smokers, a fresh
cigar is never good it requires to be
kept it is perfect when it is touched
by mites. Manufacturers know this;
for, by means of acids, they fabricate
those seductive sparks which are so
fascinating to the smoker.
There are many varieties of cigars to
i he taste of smokers. In the
opinion of habitual smokers, the Ha-
vannah is thought to be the most
agreeable for warm weather; for the
thoughtful and the imaginative there is
nothing like the Manilla: for the cold
weather a Principe or Chinsurah cheroot
is preferred. A large trade is carried
on in London in the fabrication of
spurious Cuba cigars, which are vended
to low tobacconists and chandler's shops.
And now something of pipes, the
most universal mode of imbibing the
smoke from tobacco. A writer in the
Asiatic Journal says : " In Spain,
France, and Germany, in Holland,
Sweden, Denmark, and Russia, the
practice of smoking tobacco prevails
amongst the rich and the poor, the
learned and the gay. In Turkey, the
pipe is perpetually in the mouth ; and
the most solemn conferences are gener-
ally concluded with a friendly pipe,
employed like the calumet of peace
amongst the Indians. In the East
Indies, not merely all classes, but both
sexes inhale the fragrant steam; the
only distinction among them consisting
in the shape of the instruments em-
ployed, and the species of the herb
used. In China, the habit equally pre-
vails. A modern traveller (Barrow)
states that " every Chinese female, from
the age of eight or nine years, wears as
an appendage to her dress a small silken
purse or pocket to hold tobacco and a
pipe, with the use of which many of
them are not unacquainted at this
tender age."
The materials of which pipes are
made are exceedingly numerous. White
and coloured earths, porcelain, metals,
ivory, horn, shells, costly woods, agate,
cornelian, talc, and amber. Of all
pipes, however, meerschaum is con-
sidered the best. It is a species of clay,
composed principally of silicia, and
magnesia, carbonic acid, and water. It
is soft and porous ; and, in the finest
specimens, is almost transparent. The
best specimens are from the pits of the
Crimea in Asia Minor. It is dug up
near Kanii, on Natalia, near Caffa, in
the peninsula of the Heracleati. By
THE IMPORTANCE OF TRIFLES.
239
the Tartars it is called keff-kill, which
appellation is derived from the Turkish
words signifying froth or foam of the
sea ; the reason of this designation is,
that the workmen assert that, after
having been dug away, it forms again,
puffing itself up like froth.
Constantinople is the great mart from
whence the dealers from Germany, Po-
land, etc. make their purchases. Their
expeusiveness arises from the uncer-
tainty attending the manufacture. They
are soaked for twenty-four hours in water,
and then turned in a lathe ; in this pro-
cess many of them prove porous and are
rejected. Sometimes as many as seven
out of ten. After being ornamented and
finished, they will sell for from one to
seven guineas. There are connoiseurs
who think that the particular kind of
clay of which meerschaums are made
imparts an improved quality to the to-
bacco ; we do not undertake to settle
this point.
The ordiary clay pipe so extensively
us^d in England and Holland, is made
from a clay chiefly derived fromPurbeck
in Dorsetshire. It is said that a clever
pipe-moulder will make three thousand
five hundred in a day. In Holland, the
commonest kinds of pipes are made in
great quantities, and exported to various
countries. Pipe making also furnishes
employment to upwards of five thousand
people in France. Tobacco pipes manu-
factured abroad, on being imported into
England, pay an import duty of 30 for
every 100 value.
We have not ventured upon the ex-
pression of an opinion in reference to the
habit of smoking. The pipe has its
strong partisans, and also its violent op-
ponents ; we will leave the matter to be
settled by them. We cannot, however,
close this account of tobacco and pipes
without mentioning what must be pa-
tent to most observers, that to the hard-
working and toiling millions, tobacco is
a comfort and a solace.
THE IMPORTANCE OF TRIFLES.
THE daily intercourse of the humblest
person will afford interesting and in-
structive examples of the importance of
trifles. A stray thought, a mere word
of encouragement, has changed a poor
man's destiny, has poured hope into
despair, and nerved despondency to
wrestle with misfortune. A smile
"one sunny smile," drops balm upon
all it shines upon, invigorates the weak,
reanimates the drooping, and gives joy
to the sorrowful. A look one kind
look who has not felt its influence,
but who can estimate its power? It
has melted hearts upon which aught
else would have striven in vain ; it has
converted bitter enemies into life-abid-
ing friends ; and many a mother could
doubtless add, " it has turned a rebel-
lious son into a dutiful child." It is
only by trifles, as they are called, that
we can form opinions upon the charac-
ter of those with whom we associate,
and we all know how much our success
in life depends upon our chai-acter. A
stray expression, an apparently insig-
nificant action, a benevolent look, a
quiver of the lip, a whisper, or a sign,
frequently form the standard by which
our dispositions are judged; and such
trivia] events, unobserved as they may
be by the careless eye, have made ene-
mies or friends for every one of us, and
have caused the weal or wo of thou-
sands of our race.
One of the mental deficiencies which
a disregard for trifles displays is a want
of reflection, because a reflecting person
would see enough with a little obser-
vation to convince him that trifles are
not to be trifled with; and however
narrow may be his sphere of action, a
retrospect of his past life would un-
questionably recall many circumstances
suggesting a similar moral. This fail-
ing also betrays a want of common
sense. Whoever heard of a trifler, or
a careless person, as they are called,
considered to be a wise man or woman
by those who are capable of judging?
Who, with ordinary precaution, would
entrust them with what required care,
or follow their advice with ny degree
of confidence ? Ltfok around the circle
of your acquaintance, and do you ob-
serve that those who bear the charac-
ter of carelessness have either acquired
wealth by their exertions, fame by
their industry, or a reputation by their
HOUSE PLANTS IN WINTER.
judgment? Is not every man of sound
sense the very reverse of a trifler ; is
not he who excels in any kind of labour
attentive to the minutest matter con-
nected with that labour; and is not
every architect of his own fortuue found
to be a c ireful man? We scarcely
need to observe that trifles clearly be-
tray a want of frugality. Mauy a for-
tune has been lost, and many persons
have been prevented from making a
fortune, by a disregard for trifles. That
" pence make pounds," and that " if
we take care of our pence, our pounds
will take care of themselves," are true
sayings. There are some who have
desired to save a portion annually from
their incomes, but have delayed doing
so from one year to another, in the
expectation of being able at a future
period to commence their savings with
a larger sum. At last old age presents
himself, and they discover themselves
to be destitute of means for the hour
of adversity, and that the annual pay-
ment of their formerly despised sum
would now amount to a considerable
fortune. There are many such in the
world. Now no man will ever amass
wealth who disregards the smallest
item. If we had sufficient courage we
would dare to address a few remarks
upon this point to those young ladies
who wear thin shoes in wet or cold
weather, and bring on colds and con-
sumption, who spoil a new dress once
a month, and sacrifice twice the neces-
sary materials in their needlework, etc.,
and call all this, with a toss of the
head, " mere trifles."
We would press the foregoing re-
marks upon the attention of young
persons especially. Youth is the pe-
riod when the seed of our after life is
sown. It then becomes important that
no tares should be mixed with the
wheat that no habits should be im-
bibed which will inflict us with future
pain. One false step amid the preci-
pices of life may destroy us ; ore
resolution, fervently embraced an 1 ri-
gidly adhered to, may rescue us from
many difficulties. And we hope the
few facts we have presented may cor-
roborate what we say. In youth, also,
the field of our future labours is gene-
rally selected, but that selection, im-
portant as it always is, entwined as it
is with our prospects in thi.s world, and
our destiny in the next, has not un fre-
quently been influenced by a trifle.
We have all heard of Corneille, the
Shakespere of French dra'n it i<'s. the
immortal author of "Cid," and " Me-
liteY' and, we may add, that it was an
apparently insignificant incident in his
youth which directed his genius to the
drama. It was a mere exclamation of
his grandfather which induced Moliere,
while a youth, to abandon his tapestry
trade, and write the satire of " Tar-
tuffe." and the humour of" L'Etourdi."
C jwley said he became a poet by read-
ing Spenser ; and it is not unlikely that
our great Shakespere would never have
given us those glorious offsprings of
bis brain, had not his want of success
compelled him to abandon the stage as
an actor, and to appear upon it as an
author. Flamstead, the astronomer,
and Franklin, the philosopher, ascribed
the cast of their genius to accident;
and Byron tells us that his " Giaour,"
"Corsair," and "Bride of Abydos,"
were inspired by a volume of Turkish
history he had read in his youth.
It would be folly for us to promise,
or any observer of trifles to expect, that
such observance would make him a
Byron, a Franklin, or a Corneilie; but
we may safely promise him a gift more
valuable, though less externally attrac-
tive. An attention to trifles, as well as
of what are considered more important
duties, will be the .surest means of
giving success to the merchant, fame to
the student, and skill to the mechanic ;
and what is more, that unalloyed satis-
faction which every one must feel who
is conscious that he has always striven
to do his duty a source of enjoyment
without which the fame of Homer or
of Saakespere would be bitterness and
gall.
HOUSE PLANTS IN WINTER.
" WHAT is the reason that ruv plants do
not grow so well as Mrs. Jones's ? I
am sure I take a great deal more pains
with them, and water, and nurse, and
WEEDS AND HABITS.
241
air them, but all will not do ; they are
Aveak, slender, sickly, aucl some of my
best plants have died while Mrs. Jones
seems to take veiy little care of hers,
and yet they grow and bloom beauti-
fully !"
This appeal is not the first complaint
of ill-success. The truth is, some plants
are actually nursed to death. Care and
attention bestowed onplauts,whijh they
do not need, are worse than no care at
all. It Is knowing jus f , what to do, and
doing that, and uo more, that gives
some persons their success. Or, as a
late writer remarked, there are two great
points to be attended to : First, not to
let your plants suffer by neglect : and,
secondly, not to make them suffer by
interference.
We would class the requisites for
good treatment as follow :
1. Plenty of light.
2. A due supply of water.
3. Proper temperature.
Fresh air, cleanliness, and good soil,
are obviously of importance, but are
less likely to be neglected than the
three first-named wauts, and we shall
therefore add a few additional remarks
under these heads.
1. Light. Plants cannot by any
possibility have too much of this. The
stand should therefore face the window,
and be placed as near to it as practicable,
and the window should be broad, as
little obstructed in its light by outside
trees as the nature of the case will admit.
But rapidly-growing plants require most
light ; hence such should be placed more
directly in front of the window.
2 Water. This must be given ac-
cording to circumstances. A plant in
nearly a dormant state needs very little
those in a rapidly growing condition
require considerable. Too much water
will make the latter grow slender, but
they will bear a greater supply if in a
strong Ji.-jjht. It must be remembered,
as a standing rule, that dormant plants
may remain comparatively in the dark,
and with little water, and growing ones
should have a good supply of water and
a full supply of li^ht. But it must not
be forgotten that green-house plants
generally are nearly dormant during
winter, and the soil must therefore be
kept but moderately moist, as the plants
in this condition do not pump anv
moisture from the soil, and little es-
capes directly by evaporation. Drain-
age, by filling one-fifth of each pot with
charcoal, is of importance.
3. Temperature. Many house plants
ai'e destroyed by too much heat, which
increases the dryness, and both these
causes together are more than they can
endure. A cool room, never as low as
freezing, is best. From 50 to 55 degrees
is much better than 65 or 70, the ordi-
nary temperature of living rooms.
Syringing the foliage with tepid water,
to wash off whatever dua'i accumulates,
is of use; and the admission of fresh
air, when there is no danger of chilling-
or freezing the foliage should not be
neglected.
WEEDS AND HABITS.
AMONG the innumerable analogies that,
may be traced between the phenomena
of the natural and of the moral world,
there are few more perfect, or more
instructive, than that which may be
shown to exist between the weeds of
the field and garden, and the bad habits,
the weeds of the heart.
1. Both commence on a small scale.
The Scotchman's little paper of thistle
seeds was sufficient to overrun an island
as large as England with the noxious
weeds. So the little mischievous seed
which a man sows in his heart will bear
a crop of weeds out of all proportion to
the original germ.
2. Again, both weeds and bad habits
mature and multiply without cultiva-
tion. Whatever is valuable must be
reared with more or less of care and
labour; but these natural and moral
pests ask only to be let alono. Neglect
is the only care they require. Do no-
thing, and you do all that they ask.
3. They are both lusty and hardy.
They are not apt to be nipped by early
or late frosts, or scerched by fiery suns.
They are the last things to be drowned
out in a flood, or to dry up in a drought.
Give them a foothold in the soil, and
the smallest possible chance of life, and
they will take care of themselves.
MNTPAL DISCIPLINE.
4. They are both tu . .>lifio.
It has been said that a :it of
the weed called " sow t h 11 pro-
duce over eleven thon- We
will not venture to calculate how many
mischievous seel ^ng from a
single weed in the heart, but we know
that such things aiv very prolific.
5. Both are costly and destructive.
Though no toil is required to rear a
crop of weeds, they eat up the goodness
of the soil, and deprive those plants
which are valuable of their proportion
of nourishment.
6. Again, if suffered to remain long
in the ground, they both become very
difficult to extirpate. If you would
eradicate a noxious plant you must take
it in hand at an eai'ly stage. If you
wait till its s'eds are wafted to every
corner of the field, and its roots have
spread deep and wide, it will mock
your efforts to exterminate it. You
may cut it down, or pluck it up ; you
may burn it, or bury it ; you may fight
it manfully and patiently; but while
you are subduing it one spot, it will
spring up afresh in another, to mock
your labours and vex your soul. So it
is with a heart long overgrown with the
weeds of bad habits. What a long, and
stern, and sorrowful struggle will it
require to reclaim that dreary waste, to
make it again to blossom as a garden !
True, terribly true, is the record which
declares that it as difficult for those to
do good that are accustomed to do evil,
as for the Ethiopian to make white his
du*ky hue, or the leopard to change his
spotted skin. Southey has pictured
this struggle with confirmed bad habits
with great vividness in the following
lines, with which we close this sober,
though not unseasonable, homily :
" For from his shoulders grew
Two snakes of monstrous size,
Which ever at his head
Aimed their rapacious teeth,
To satiate raving hunger with his brain.
He, in the eternal conflict, oft would seize
Their swelling necks, and in his giant grasp
Bruise them, and rend their flesh with bloody
nails,
And howl for agony ;
the pangs he gave; for of
himself
.out and inseparable parts
T o snaky tortures grew."
(See the line* " Enquii-e Within," p, 223.)
MENTAL DISCIPLINE.
IT seems to be thought by many, that
the design of education is the commu-
nication of knowledge T .Hinds
to be laid up for use in the storehouse
of memory. But as well nri^ht all the
products of agriculture and the me-
chanic arts be laid up for future use by
the young agriculturist and mechanic.
It is the acquisition of vigour and skill
for a future productive industry, which
constitutes a proper physical training ;
and it is vigour and dexterity of mind
in the acquisition and application of
knowledge, which constitute the object
of mental training.
Elementary principles must be ascer-
tained. No man can understand any
science, or anything, who cannot lay his
hand on the elementary principles, and
by the light of these trace out the rela-
tions and dependencies of the whole.
These are the keys of knowledge, to
which all the sciences open their ar-
cana, and without which they remain
inexorably shut to all manner of de-
mand and solicitation.
Without this knowledge of first prin-
ciples, a man will behold truth always
in isolated fragments, and be surrounded
by a wilderness of light. Such know-
ledge is like a mass of disordered me-
chanism; confusion worse confounded,
and utterly incapable of use ; a maze,
overwhelming and inextricable.
There must be a precision of thought.
The mind cannot be thoroughly exer-
cised without it ; and nothing worthy
of the name of knowledge can other-
wise be gained. There are many who
go round a subject, and pass between
its parts, and verily think they under-
stand it, who, when called upon for an
accurate descripton, can only hesitate
and stammer amid the glimmering of
their undefined moonbeams of know-
ledge;
Why is this? It is because they
have acquired no definite knowledge of
MENTAL DISCIPLINE.
243
the subjects they have studied. They
underhand till subjects in general, and
none in particular ; and for the pur-
poses of exact knowledge adapted to
use, might as well have been star-
gazing through a dim telescope in a
foggy night.
Everything is what it 13, exactly, and
not merely almost; and for purposes
of science or use. a hair's breadth dis-
crepancy is as fatal as the discrepancy
of a mile. Who could raise a building
where eveiy mortice and tenon only
almost fitted ? or construct a useful
almanack when his calculations were
almost, but not altogether exact ?
It is this precision of knowledge which
it is necessary to acquire ; and without
ib, not only are the blessings of an edu-
cation lost, but the multiplied evils of
undisciplined minds indefinite con-
ceptions and fallacious reasonings, and
the bewilderment of a declamatory
flippancy of specious words are poured
out upon society with an overflowing
flood, sweeping aw;;y the landmarks of
truth and principle, and covering the
surface with brush, and leaves, and
gravel.
No wonder that scepticism is rife,
which proclaims knowledge to be unat-
tainable, and all things doubtful. What
other result could be expected from
minds reared without first principles,
and reasoning without precision of con-
ception, in respect either to words,
thoughts, or things ?
The art of independent investigation
is of primary importance. We should
be accustomed to explore every sub-
ject, to analyze and take it apart, ascer-
tain and define its elementary princi-
ples, and all its dependencies and rela-
tions, and label the whole with letters
of fire, and put it together again ; then
we shall understand it, then we shall
never forget it ; and then, everywhere
and instauter, it will be ready for use.
Now this can never be accomplished
by lectures and oral instruction, from
the simple consideration that the act of
receiving knowledge, and the act of
acquiring it by personal efforts, are en-
tirely different in respect to mental
exertion and thorough attainment.
In the one case the mind is passive,
and records upon the tablets of me-
mory only a few fragments of what is
said, soon to be effaced, and recovered
only by recurring to imperfect notes ;
while in the other, the mind's best
energies are employed in unlocking and
dissecting the subject, and the mind's
own eyesight in inspecting it; and
there results the mind's accurate and
imperishable knowledge of it.
We do not mean that lectures are
useless, or to be dispensed with ; but
they are to be only the important aids
of original investigation. The young
adventurer must have some stock in
trade to begin with, some raw material
for his mind to work upon ; and on
some plain subjects perhaps he has it.
Let him expei-iment, then, first on the
most familiar subject. Let him recon-
noitre his own mind and ascertain how
much and what he knows, exactly, on
the subject, and put it down in definite
memoranda; and if they are the ele-
mentary points, it will be easy, by then*
light, to follow out their relations and
dependencies, from centre to circum-
ference; and if they are remote infe-
rences and relations, it will be easy to
follow them up till they disclose the
elementary principle of which they are
the satellites.
When this has been done, and all that
his own ingenuity can disclose is found
out, he may consult authors, and en-
large and connect his views by their aid.
When called to investigate subjects
which are beyond the sphere of his in-
cipient knowledge, conversation and
lectures may open the door of the tem-
ple, and put in the hand of the young
adventurer the golden thread which may
lead him out of darkness into open day.
Mind, which has opened the foun-
tains of knowledge, will thirst and
drink and thirst and drink for ever. It
is discipline which doubles its capacity,
its economy of time, its energy of appli-
cation, the amount' of its acquisition,
and the duration and amount of its
active usefulness.
Few minds uninitiated to the habit
of investigation pass, without faltering,
the meridian of life, or move on after
244
THUNDER AND LIGHTNING.
it, but in the commonplace repetition
of commonplace ideas : while to minds
exercised by use to analyse and decom-
pose and reconstruct the elementary
order of things, the work is ever inter-
esting, ever new, and the product ever
fresh, original, and bright as the lumi-
naries of heaven.
The results of such training will be
eloquence in the pulpit, eloquence at
the bar, and eloquence in the halls of
legislation, such as none can sleep
under nor resist, and whose victories,
when achieved, will, like the battle of
Trafalgar, leave the world in a blaze.
What produced the immortal elo-
quence of Demosthenes ? A mind which
Heaven created ; the culture of it by
bis own efforts ; the stimulus of it by
a popular government, and the provo-
cations of Philip of Macedon.
Instructions may correct faults, and
reduce to order the excess of exuberant
feeling ; but one might as well teach
artificial breathing as artificial elo-
quence. Teach men how to think, and
how to feel, and, with good linguistic
culture, we cannot prevent their beiug
eloquent. We could as well stop
thunder-storms and volcanoes as the
electric outburstings of soul, with
fervid, overflowing energy.
THUNDER AND LIGHTNING.
LIGHTNING is caused by the approach of
two clouds to each o'her, one being
overcharged and the other undercharged
with electricity ; the fluid rushes from
the former and discharges itself into
the latter, until each contains a like
quantity. Lightning clouds vary in
altitude, being often three or four miles
from the earth, and sometimes they are
so close that their edges actually touch
it. If the cloud be a long distance off,
the electrical fluid, meeting with a great
resistance from the air, diverts it into
eccentric courses, and causes what is
known as fork-lightning. Sheet-light-
ning is occasioned either by the reflec-
tion of distant and imperceptible flashes
or several being intermingled. When
a man is struck dead by lightning, the
electric fluid passes through him, and
by producing a violent shouE. oa the
nerves, instantaneously destroys all
vitality. Thunder arises from the con-
>n of the air closing immediately
after being separated by lightning; if
the peal be a broken, irregular roar, it
is a sure sign that the lightning cloud
is a great distance off; as some of the
vibrations of air, necessarily travelling
much quicker than others, reach the ear
first, and coining at different periods
occasion a long - continued rumble.
Lightning is seen sooner than thunder
can be heard, because the former travels
a million times faster than sound.
Heat is communicatod from one body
to another by five different causes, viz. :
conduction, reflection, convection, ab-
sorption, and radiation. Conduction is
heat communicated by actual cont ict of
two bodies. The best conductors of heat
are gold and silver; porous, light sub-
stances, such as wood, fur, charcoal, &c.,
f re the worst. Wood is often ubcd in
conjunction with metal ; for instance, a
metal tea-pot generally has a wooden
handle, on account of wood beiug such
a bad conductor, that the heat of the
boiling water is not conveyed to the
hand with such rapidity as if it were
metal. Such an excellent conductor is
metal, that when touched, the heat from
the hand passes rapidly into it, causing
to the hand a sensation of extreme
frigidity, which is generally considered
to come from the metal. When the hot
hand touches a pump-handle, the teat
of the former passing quickly into the
latter, causes the ron to appear cold,
when, in reality, it is of the same
temperature as the wood in the pump :
only the sudden loss of its natural
heat produces a feeling of extreme
coldness to the hard. Marble is also
such an excellent conductor that, when
touched, the heat from the hand passes
so suddenly into the marble, that si sen-
sation of intense cold is felt, which is in
reality caused by the heat leaving the
hand, and not by (he substance it>elf,
as i* generally supposed to be the case.
Reflection is throwing back th-
of heat fiom the surface of a refl
body towards the place from whence
it came. Highly polished metal
ihe best reflectors; for irwtamv, in a
PLAYING CARDS.
345
kitchen with a tin screen placed behind
a joint roasting, the tin reflector throws
the heat of the fire back again upon
the meat, and thus accelerates its
cooking, and conduces to keep the
kitchen cool Convection is heat being
conveyed to another place or thing ;
as water being heated at the bottom of
a kettle mounts up and carries its heat
through the rest of the water as it as-
cends. Absorption of heat means to
.suck it up as a sponge does water ;
black cloth, for instance, would absorb
the rays of the sun, if placed in it ;
but if one end of the cloth were made
hot, it would notcouvey the heat to the
opposite end, cloth being a bad con-
ductor. A new kettle is longer boil-
ing than an old one, because its sides
and bottom being blight, they reflect
the heat ; but on an old kettle the
black soot absorbs the heat, and causes
the water 10 boil much quicker. Ra-
diation signifies the emission of rays
The sun emits both rays of heat and
light ; fire emitting rays of heat warms
us when standing before it ; in fact,
everything radiates heat to a greater or
lesser degree. Polished metal is a bad
radiator of heat ; therefore it keeps the
water hot much longer than other
com positions. For that reason metal
tea pots are used in preference to black
earthenware, except in cases where the
teapot is always placed on the hob,
when the common black tea-pot draws
the tea much better; because it ab-
sorbs abundantly the heat, and keeps
the water hot ; whereas a bright metal
tea-pot set upon the hob throvss off the
heat by reflection.
IN-DOOR PLANTS.
As the plants are placed in or near
windows, there is no injurious deficiency
of light ; but as it comes to them most
intensely on one side, they should be
half turned round every day, that their
heads may have a uniform appearance,
and the leaves be not turned ouly in
one direction. If the window faces the
south, the intense heat and light should
be mitigated duiing the mid-day of the
summer months by lowering the blind.
Whenever the out-door temperature is
not below 34, the plants will be bene-
fited by having the window and door of
the room open. Th y caunot have too
much fresh air at any season of the
year if they are not grown under a
Wardiau case; for the exterior air al-
ways contains a due proportion of
moisture, whilst the air of a room is in-
variably drier than is beneficial to the
plants. A due supply of moisture in
the air, as well as in the soil, is abso-
lutely necessary to our room plants.
To obtain this in the best available de-
gree, little porous troughs, constantly
filled with water, should be kept on the
stand among the pots ; and the saucers
of the pots themselves, if made accord-
ing to Hunt's plan, may always have a
little water remaining in them. The
application of water to the soil requires
far more attention than it usually re-
ceives. Room plants mostly are the
protcg<s of ladies, who administer water
with their own hands ; and so long as
the novelty and leisure prompt to this
attention all goes well ; but no room
plant ever existed, perhaps, which was
not, at some period of its life, left to the
tender mercies of a housemaid, with
the fr< quent usual consequences of a
deluge of water, cold from the pump,
after the roots had become headed and
parched by days of total ab-tinence.
Plants so treated cannot flourish. The
water should be allowed to stand in
the kitchen for some hours before it is
applied to the plants, so that it may be
as warm or warmer than the soil to
which it is to be added. It may be
given in dry, hot weather, every second
day, and in such abundance us to pass
slightly through the earth into the
saucers.
PLAYING-CARDS.
THE origin of playing-cards has never
been definitely settled, some claiming
the honour for the Spaniards and others
for Jaquemire Gringouueur, a painter
of Paris; but we may venture to say
this much, that the invention, although
productive of much 'evil in itself, was
nevertheless indirectly a most valuable
one, as it seems to have given the first
hint to the invention of p iutidg, as
evidenced from the earliest specimens
240
HAYING CARDS.
of that art at Haerlem, and those in the
Bodleian library.
For our own part, we feel more in-
clined, for the following reasons, to
favour the opinion that they were in-
vented about the year 1390, by the
said Jaquemire Qnngonneur, to divert
Charles VI., then king of France, who
had become melancholic. 1. Because
no notice of cards is to be found in any
painting, tapestry, sculpture, &c., m"re
ancient than the preceding period, but
are found posterior to it. 2. No royal
edicts are mentioned prohibiting cards,
although a few years before 1390, a
most severe one was published, forbid-
ding by name all manlier of sports and
pastimes except archery, so that the
people might be in a condition to op-
pose the English ; and i may be in-
ferred that had cards been known at
that period they would have been
enumerated with the other games. 3.
The ecclesiastical canons prior to 1390,
make no mention of cards, but in 1410
we find the clergy are prohibited in
indulging in games at cards by a G;ilii-
can synod. 4. About thirty years after
this, a severe edict was issued against
cards in France ; and another by Emma-
nuel, Duke of Savoy ; which reserved,
however, the privilege to ladies, for
pins and needles.
The firs: recorded notice of their
being known in England is in 1463,
when the card-makers of London made
an application to parliament against the
importation of pi ay ing-cards ; and from
the 3 Edward IV. c. 4, it appears that
both card-playing and making were
practised anterior to this, or about fifty
years after the era of their supposed
invention. The Chinese are also said
by Mr. Gough (Arckceologia, vol. viii.),
to have known the use of ca'
evidenced from their paintings, and also
from a pack of Chinese cards in his
possession, though they used different
devices from those usually empL
The inventor designed, by the figures
of the four suits or colours, to
sent the four states or classes of men in
the kingdom. By the coeur, or hearts,
are meant the gens de cfueur, choir-men,
or ecclesiastics ; and therefore the
Spaniards have chalices, or copas, in
stead of hearts.
The nobility, or prime military part
of the kingdom, are represented by the
points of lances or pikes, which have
been denominated spades through ig-
norance, or a corruption of the Spanish
espados, or swords, which they substi-
tute in lieu of pikes.
By diamonds are designed the order
of citizens, merchants, and tradesmen;
carreaux, or squares, stones, tiles, &c.
The Spaniards had a coin, dhicros,
which answers to it ; and the Dutch
call the French word carreaux, stlenm.
stones and diamonds, from the form.
The corrupt term of clubs, which is
correctly trtie, the trefoil leaf, or clover
grass, alludes to the husbandman and
peasantry. Probably, the term clubs
wa> introduced from the Spaniards
having bastos, staves or clubs, on their
cards.
The four kings are David, Alexander,
Caesar, and Charles ; representing the
four celebrated monarchies of the Jews,
Greeks, Romans, and Franks under
I Charlemagne.
The queens are intended to represent
Argine, Esther, Judith, and Pallas;
typical of birth, piety, fortitude, and
wisdom, the qualifications found in each
person. Argine is an anagram for Re-
gina, queen by descent.
By the knaves were designed the ser-
vants to knights. Knave originally
meant only a servant, and, in a very old
translation of the Bible, St. Paul is
called the knave of Christ.
Some fandy that the knights them-
selves were designed by these cards ; as
Hogier and Lahire, two names on the
French cards, were famous knights at
the time cards were supposed to have
\ been invented.
In 1679, historical pub-
lished, as we learn from an advertise-
, ment of that time issued by a certain
Randal Taylor, that there were sold by
him a pack of cards for one shilling each
pack, containing " A History of all the
j Popish P'ot* that have been in Ei.
j beginnh.;.' \vitn those in Queen Kli/a-
| beth'H liiiJC, HILL ull th'' lat
I damnable plot against his Majesty
PUNCTUALITY.
247
Charles II., with the manner of Sir Ed-
mundbury Godfrey's murder, &c. All
excellently engraved on copper- plates,
with very large descriptions under each
card. The like not extant." At the
top of each were the marks of the suit ;
and the value of the lord cards, from
one to ten, expressed in Roman nume-
rals ; while at the foot was a brief ex-
planation of the plot, trial, and punish-
ment of the conspirators.
In Hearts, the king was represented
with the privy councillors seated at the
council-table ; Titus Gates standing be-
fore them : inscription at the foot
" Dr. Gates discovereth ye Plot to ye
King and Councell. The ace : the Pope
with the three cardinals and a bishop at
a table, with the devil underneath
The Plot first hatcht at Rome by the
Pope and Cardinalls, &c."
Diamonds : Knave " Pickerin at-
tempts to kill ye K. in St. James's
Park." The ace" The consult at the
White Horse Taverne."
Clubs : King u Capn. Bedlow ex-
amined by ye secret Committee of the
House of Commons." The six " Capn.
Berry and Alderman Brooks are offer' d
500 to cast the plot on the Pro-
testants."
Spades: Queen "The club at ye
Plow Ale house for the murther of Sir
E. B. Godfreo.-.For Rules of Card
Games, see Enquire Within.
HOW TO GET CONTENT.
THE best remedy for discontent, is to
try and estimate things at what they
are really worth. You should remem-
ber that Rothschild is forced to content
himself with the same sky as the poor-
est mechanic, and the great banker can-
not order a private sunset, or add one
ray to the magnificence of night. The
same air swells all lungs. Each one
possesses really, only his own thoughts
and his own senses, soul and body
these are the property which a man
owns. All that is valuable is to be had
for nothing in this world. Genius,
beauty, and love are not bought and
sold. You may buy a rich bracelet,
but not a well turned arm to wear it,
a pearl necklace, but not a pretty throat
with which It shall vie. The richest
banker on earth would vainly offer a
fortune to be able to write a verse like
Byron. One comes into the world
naked and goes out naked ; the differ-
ence in the fineness of a bit of liuen for
a shroud is not much. Man is a hand-
ful of clay, which turns quickly back
again into dust.
PUNCTUALITY.
WE know of nothing more commend-
able as a general rule, and in a general
sense, than punctuality. We allude
not only to important, but to trifling
matters. Character confidence de-
pend greatly upon the manner in which,
an individual keeps his engagements.
One who habitually violates his word,
who promises, never intending to per-
form, is morally deft ieut to a frightful
extent,and deserves neither respect nor
consideration. But there are others
who mean well, who do not lack prin-
ciple, who would blush to utter a
deliberate untruth, and yet they falter
and fail for want of firmness, nerve, and
decision. Thoy promise, intending to
perform, hoping to be able to keep the
engagement, and yet without due con-
sideration, or a proper appreciation of
the consequences of failure. There ara
others again who are always " a little to
late " always behind the time. They
have a habit of delay, and thus they
postpone and procrastinate from hour
to hour, and not only injure themselves,
but waste the time of other people.
The error is one that should, if possi-
ble, be corrected in early life. The lad
who is a laggard and always the last at
school, will rarely be first in any
position of credit. How many posts of
honour and profit how many fine
chances how many noble fortunes
have been lost by procrastination ! A
little too late alas ! how fatal the
policy ! Who has not seen it illus-
trated? Who has not committed the
error and reaped the bitter fruits '{ We
have heard of a merchant who made an
engagement with another in relation to
a very valuable property. They had
long been discussing the matter, and
endeavouring to come to terms, and at
24S
THE TRUE OBJECT OF WEALTH.
a certain hour either to close the bar-
gain, or consider the negociation- ;it an
end. It' neither party should aupear at
the designated time, the other was at
last had agreed upon a certain day and
liberty to act as if nothing had oc-
curred. The place of meeting was the
Exchange, and the hour twelve o'clock.
The one had offered the other an estate
in a very central position, for a very
inadequate sum, with the understand-
ing that he would take or reject it at
any period within the specified limit.
Meanwhile, he had a higher offer for
the same property, a circumstance
having taken place which had materially
increased its value. He was bound in
honour, however, to wait until the spe-
cified period, and he did wait. Nay,
he was scrupulous, conscientious, and
sensitive, and lingered for half-an-hour
over the time. Then, the other party
being in readiness, he accepted the
offer, and the affair was closed Only
a few seconds after, and his first cus-
tomer appeared, but it was too late.
He had made up his mind to accept the
proposition, but he nevertheless lin-
gered and hesitated, until the golden
opportunity had passed away. He was
annoyed irritated and mortified and
yet compelled to confess that the error
was all his own.
On another occasion, not long since,
several gent'.emen met together for the
purpose of deciding upon the claims to
office of an applicant who was highly
recommended, and concerning whom
they were all favourably impressed.
But it was necessary that he should
appear before them in person, and make
certain explanations. This he pro-
mised to do, and could have done very
readily, and the hour for the interview
was bxed. For some reason or other,
he hesitated, and at last, either from
timidity or want of moral courage, he
persuaded himself that his presence was
not necessary, and that everything was
as it should be. The committee were
prompt, talked over the matter in a
friendly and kindly spirit, were anxious
and willing to hear the expected expla-
nations, and ready to confer the place.
But, as already stated, the applicant
failed to appear, and this failure was
fatal to him. If, they argned, he can-
not be prompt and punctual in a case
in which he himself is so vitally inter-
ested, how can he be safely entrusted
with the business of others ? The
error was lamented afterward, but it
was too late. In social life, the im-
portance of punctuality cannot be too
earnestly enforced and incul cated. It
is quite a common occurrence for an
individual to promise a vL4t on a cer-
tain evening, and thus to enter into a
tacit engagement with the family to be
visited, that they and theirs will remain
at home. Other objects may command
their attention meanwhile, but, if they
possess a proper sense of propriety,
they will refuse, and for the reason that
they have no right to trifle with the
time or the feelings of another.
THE TRUE OBJECT OF WEALTH.
WHAT is success to the merchant ? We
can readily say what it is not.
1. It is not merely to accumulate a
fixed sum, as the ultimatum of his
wishes.
2. It is not to gain the control of the
market.
3. It is not to hold the rod of power
over banking and other corporations,
and a host of clerks, sub-clerks, and
other subordinates.
4. It is not to lay up immense wealth
to leave to thankless heirs.
5. It is not to ride like Whittingtou,
Lord Mayor of London in a magnifi-
cent coach, with servants in livery, be-
fore and behind.
6. It is not to live in a noble man-
sion, furnished according to ihe expen-
sive taste of the most fashionable
upholsterer.
7. It is not to hoard gold to gloat
over with insane idolatry, as a thing too
good to use.
8. It is not to accumulate and to hold
on to a vast amount of property with
selfish enjoyment, with an iron grasp
which death alone can relax, and then
to bequeath it to benevolent and reli-
gious purposes.
9. It is not to become a slave to cark-
ing care, at the expense of body and
MINOR MORALS AND MARRIED PEOPLE.
mind, heart and soul wearing out the
body, starving the mind, palsying the
heart, and ruining the soul.
1. Mei-cantile success does, to be sure,
involve the fact of gaining money
hundreds or thousands of pounds.
2. It is a glorious instrument of
power, when used to promote the wel-
fare of dependent hundreds of beings.
3. Success secures the approbation of
the world; for, as the wise man says,
" men will praise thee when thou doest
well for thyself."
4. Success enables the merchant to
possess all the means and appliances for
his own comfort and that of his family.
5. It gives him the opportunity to
gratify his taste, whether it be for
books, pictures, statues, or houses,
flowers, music, gardening, farming ;
and happy is it for him, if he possess
taste to to be gratified.
6. Success secures to him the bles-
sedness of giving the sweet indulgence
of alleviating human suffering.
7. It furnishes him with the means
of encouraging and promoting art, sci-
ence, literature, morality, and religion.
8. It secures rest from turmoil and
anxiety at the close of life, and leisure
to look forward into eternity.
MANAGEMENT OF LIVE STOCK.
THE chief principles which should
govern the management of live stock
must be steadily borne in mind :
they may be all summed up in four
words cleanliness, regularity, warmth,
quiet. " The treatment of milch cows,"
truly remarks Mr. H. W. Keary, of
Holkham (Jour. R. A. S., vol- ix., p.
450), " will materially influence the
quantity and quality of their milk ; and
the judicious use of roots and artificial
food in moderate quantities during the
winter months, generally yields a
liberal return. It is, however, extremely
important not to overload the stomach,
or give anything which may cause indi-
gestion ; for so intimate is the connex-
ion between the stomach and udder, that
the slightest disorder in the former is
immediately communicated to the latter,
to the injury of the milk. Small quan-
tities of food given frequently are more
conducive to health and the production
of milk than an unlimited and constant
supply of roots, hay, &c. The quality
of the water is also a matter of great
importance, and one which is frequently
overlooked, if we may judge from the
filthy compounds which some cattle are
allowed to drink."
DISEASES OF HORSES.
COUGH, or Colds, are best treated by
cold bran mashes, with Ib. of linseed,
and 1 oz. of saltpetre each mash.
Gripes, or Colic. In the absence of a
veterinary surgeon in this dangerous
complaint, the following is the best
remedy for a horse : 1^ pint of linseed
oil, l^ oz. of laudanum, given in a little
warm gruel. Some persons assist the
operation of the above with a glyster,
composed of ^ Ib. of Epsom salts, ^ Ib.
of treacle, dissolved in three quarts of
warm water.
Powder Alteative for Diseased Skin or
Surfeit. Mix together | Ib. of sulphur,
^ Ib. of saltpetre, Ib. of black antimony.
Give a large table-spoonful night and
morning in their corn.
Strains and Wounds. Mix 1 oz. of
Goulard's extract, 1 oz. of spirits of tur-
pentine, 1 oz. of spirits of wine, 1 pint
of the strongest vinegar. Rub this by
the hand, or a piece of tow, gently on
the part affected.
A COURT SCENE IN ARKANSAS.
JUDGE Q , who is a man possessed
of the usual quantum of judicial dignity,
and never suffers it to be run over with-
out a word of explanation from the
offender, was administering justice in
the town of . The coxirt was pro-
ceeding rapidly in the despatch of the
public business with an unusual degree
of quietude, except the steady peals of
the full-toned and eloquent voice of
Colonel W , the zealous State's at-
torney, when, all at once, out in the
street, hard by the court-house, a loud
voice was heard making a horrid use of
the queen's English, and threatening
great abuse of the human form divine,
in this wise :
" Jist hit me if you dare with that stick
and I wish I may be chawed up if I
250
THE ATMOSPHERE: ITS CHEMISTRY AND GEOLOGY.
don't knock the death groans out of
your ribs ! "
This attracted the judge's attention,
and caused the speaker to halt.
"Mr. Sheriff, bring that belligerent
into court," said the judge.
The sheriff obeyed, and brought in
by the sleeve a liberal specimen of na-
ture's works in the shape of a man
about six feet four inches in his shoes,
not a bad face, but indicative of an in-
ordinate passion for fat beef and " bust-
head."
" Is that the man raising that distur-
bance out doors !" said the judge.
" Well, I 'spose I is, if you call speak-
ing in yearnest raising a fuss," replied
the offender.
The judge commenced one of his
moral lectures, for which he is so re-
markable, strongly animadverting upon
the great criminality of swearing, fight-
ing, &c. &c., when the offender, with
great earnestness spread over his coun-
tenance, something like a mixture of a
laugh and a cry, interrupted him, and
said
"Stop judge, and let me tell you the
rale circumstance of it. I warn't the
digressor. He drawed on me a stick
full two feet over, and made circumlo-
cutory motions about my head, and I
jist congealed myself on to my dignity,
and suspended myself on my rights
that's all."
This speech broke the thread of the
judge's remarks, and for several mi-
nutes, with his under lip between his
teeth, he turned over the leaves of his
docket. At length he said
" Let the gentleman retire for this
time."
As the hero of this sketch passed out
of the door, he was heard to say
"Bejeemany, I cornered the judge
that time." American Paper.
THE ATMOSPHERE:
ITS CHEMISTRY AND GEOLOGY.
THE ocean, the "image of eternity
that glorious mirror where the Al-
mighty's form glasses itself in tempests,"
has always afforded man a sublime ob-
ject for reflection. From the time when
the first of our race gazed with awe on
the billows of the great sea, to now,
when mighty steamers plough their on-
ward course through storm or calm, the
' deep aud dark blue ocean " has never
ceased to be a theme for man's inquiry
and contemplation : and yet another
ocean is there, " boundless, endless,
and sublime," greater iu extent, as
mighty in force as awful iu wrath as
beneficent and as destructive iu its re-
sults, as that which we are accustomed
to consider as the only one, an ocean in
whose limits the eye of imagination can
trace mounts and vales, sharp pinnacles
and craggy rocks, with gilded hills and
glorious silvery precipices an ocean
whose bounds the inborn religion of all
nations has declared to reach eveu to the
gates of celestial bliss, and into whose
deep bosom the eye of faith oft pierces
in attempted realization of the myste-
rious predictions he believes in. "We
allude to the subject of our paper, the
ocean of the atmosphere. That our at-
mosphere is a material substance no one
will doubt who reflects that ships sail by
its agency, and that trees and sometimes
houses fall beneath its angry violence.
The atmosphere is not a simple sub-
stance, neither is it a compound, but a
mixture a mixture of three gases. Oxy-
gen, nitrogen, and carbonic acid, in the
proportion of 21 oxygen, 79 nitrogen, in
100 parts, and about 4 parts in 1,000 of
carbonic acid.
Oxygen is the vital ingredient of the
atmosphere; the nitrogen merely di-
lutes it, or it would be too powerful a
stimulant alone ; and the carbonic acid
gas is absolutely destructive to animal
life, but exerts considerable influence
on vegetable life.
On each of these three gases we will
say a few words; and first comes
oxygen.
Oxygen is the most important of all
the elements ; in fact, it constitutes at
least one-third of the weight of our
earth, for in addition to its being pre-
sent both in the atmosphere and in
water, it exists in all rocks except rock-
salt, and is an essential element in all
animal and vegetable bodies. It is most
easily prepared by applying heat to a
mixture of chlorate of potash with one-
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
251
fifth of its weight of peroxide of man-
ganese, inclosed in a small retort and
collecting the gas evolved over water
in the pneumatic trough. A most beau-
tiful experiment may be performed by
collecting a jar of oxygen and dipping
into it a piece of thin iron wire, with a
bit of lighted charcoal at the end ; the
wire will immediately burn and throw
off the most beautiful scintillations.
Phosphorus and sulphur also give splen-
did lights when burned in oxygen ; but
we would advise our young friends not
to try either of them, as considerable
danger is often incurred in the attempt.
Combustion goes on much less ra-
pidly and vividly in the atmosphere
than in oxygen, because the nitrogen
contained in the atmosphere is a non-
supporter of combustion. When iron
and other substances rust and decay,
they are in reality combining with oxy-
gen or undergoing slow combustion.
Nitrogen is, like oxygen, a colourless
and tasteless gas unlike oxygen, how-
ever, it does not sxipport combustion,
and an animal immersed in pure nitro-
gen soon dies.*
It can be easily prepared by the
action of burning phosphorus on a con-
fined portion of air over water.
The phosphorus takes the oxygen,
producing phosphoric acid, in the form
of a dense white cloud, which is, how-
ever, soon removed by the water, and
nitrogen gas is left.
A very simple and effective experi-
ment to show the diverse qualities of
the two gases, oxygen and nitrogen,
may be shown by filling a couple of
jars, one with each gas. Then having
prepared a taper by fastening it to some
suitable instrument, and allowing it to
burn till it have a tolerably long wick,
immerse it in the jar containing nitro-
gen, when it will be immediately ex-
tinguished, but by being then clipped
into the jar of oxygen may be again re-
lighted, and so on as long as any of the
gases remain.
Carbonic acid gas, the last we have to
notice, is formed naturally during the
respiration of animals and during all
* The frog appears to be an exception to
this rule.
ordinary combustion. Artificially it is
easily prepared by the action of diluted
muriatic or sulphuric acids on marble
or chalk.
It is very much heavier than air, and
is thus apt to accumulate in the lower
parts of wells, pits, or mines. That it
is exhaled by animals may be easily
proved by breathing into a small bottle
of lime water, which is immediately
rendered turbid, the insoluble cai'bo-
nate of lime being formed.
So much for the chemistry of the
atmosphere, and now for a few words
on the geology of it. It is a very im-
portant part of geological research to
ascertain the nature of the cause modi-
fying the structure and condition of the
globe, and among these causes may be
classed the atmosphere. Atmospheric
agencies act either-mechanically or che-
mically ; the gaseous constitution of
the atmosphere, however, acts che-
mically.
Rocks exposed to the air absorb
moisture, &c., which dissolve the co-
hesion of the outer particles, and the
rock becomes weathered. These par-
ticles fall off, and thus, year after year,
is every rock losing more or less of its
material.
The formation of many soils, too, is
owing to the pulverising power of the
atmosphere. Soft clays and shales are
easily weathered clown so are also all
kinds of volcanic rocks ; and even gra-
nite has been known to be pulverised
to the depth of three inches in six
years.
But we cannot pursue the subject
further, interesting though it be, but
having opened the title-page to one of
the volumes of the library of Nature,
we must leave to our readers the task
of perusing the enchanting book as
their own opportunities will allow them.
W. POWELL.
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
95. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS
IN STAINING. When alabaster,
marble, and other stones, are coloured,
and the stain is required to be deep, it
should be poured on boiling hot, and
brushed equally over every part if made
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
with water; if with spirit, it should be
applied cold, otherwise the evaporation,
being too rapid, will leave the colouring
matter on the surface, without any, or
very little, being able to penetrate. In
grayish or brownish stones, the stain
will be wanting in brightness, because
the natural colour combines with the
stain ; therefore if the stone be a pure
colour, the result will be a combination
of the colour and stain. In staining
bone or ivory, the colours will take
better before than after polishing ; and
if any daik spots appear, they should
be rubbed with chalk, and the article
dyed again to produce uniformity of
shade. On removal from the boiling hot
dye-bath, the bone should be immedi-
ately plunged into cold water, to pre-
vent cracks from the heat. If paper or
parchment is stained, a broad varnish
brush should be employed to lay the
colouring on evenly. When the stains
for wood are required to be very strong,
it is better to soak and not brush them ;
therefore, if for inlaying or fine work,
the wood should be previously split or
sawed into proper thicknesses ; and
when directed to be brushed several
times over with the stains, it should be
allowed to dry between each coating.
"When it is wished to render any of the
stains more durable and beautiful, the
work should be well rubbed with
Dutch or common rushes after it is
coloured, and then varnished with
seed-lac varnish, or if a better appear-
ance is desired, with three coats of the
same or shell-lac varnish. Common
work only requires frequent rubbing
with linseed-oil and woollen rags. Ala-
baster, rnarble,and stone, may be stained
of a yellow, red, green, blue, purple,
black, or any of the compound colours,
by the stains used for wood.
96. GOOD MANNERS. There can
be no general rule for good manners
that supply the use of individual judg-
ment in their application. A general
rule may, in special cases, require to
be reversed. The same conduct that
is acceptable in one condition of mind
becomes offensive in another ; and what
will please a stranger is often a nuisance
to a member of the family. Attention,
in the one case, has a welcome ap-
pearance of kindness and hospitality ;
in the other it is troublesome and un-
welcome officiousuess. A good-natured
man will bear more familiarity than a
red and unsocial one. A thick-
skinued man will endure ruder habits
than a thin-skinned one ; and the ruder
habits will seem pleasanter to him than
the favourite habits of his more sen-
sitive counterpart. A well-mannered
man will find out all this with an im-
perceptible glance of his eye and he
will act accordingly, accommodating
himself to his companion ; and if his
companion be equally well-mannered
and accommodating, they understand
one another immediately.
97. TO PAINT THE GLASSES
OF MAGIC LANTERNS. Draw on a
paper the subject you desire to paint ;
lay it on a table or any flat surface, and
place the glass over it ; then draw the
outlines with a very fine pencil in var-
nish, mixed with black paint, and when
dry, fill up the other parts with their
proper colours. Transparent colours
must be used for this purpose, such aa
carmine, lake, Prussian blue, verdigris,
sulphate of iron, tinctures of Brazil
wood, gamboge, &c. ; and these must
be tempered with a strong white var-
nish to prevent them pealing off. Then
shade them with black or with bistre,
mixed with the same varnish.
98. FAIRY RINGS. These singular
phenomena, which have given rise to so
many absurd notions of their super-
human or electric production, may be
resolved into a simple fact of natural
science. Botanists tell us that the
under-ground spawn of fungi grows
only in a border radiating in every
direction from the centre, where the
spore originally germinated ; therefore,
the thallus of a fungus is the com-
mencing point of a fairy-ring. On
analysing these fungi, it has been found
that they concentrate from the sur-
rounding ground large quantities of
phosphates in their tissues, and hence,
when they decay, the ground which
has produced them is more fertile, and
the grass more green. As the original
little ring of spawn only grows out-
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
253
wardly, it is clear that its fructification
the toad-stoolsmust grow rearing,
gradually increasing in diameter.
99. TO WHAT SOILS IS LIME
APPLICABLE ? Every clay soil,
every peaty soil, and eveiy soil in
which vegetable fibre does not readily
decay, because that is a sign that it
contains some antiseptic acid which
prevents decay. This is the case in
peat beds and swamps. Sandy, gra-
velly, or thin soils, may be over-limed
and injured ; because in causing the
decay of vegetables, it sets free the
ammonia, the very substance of fer-
tility required. To prevent this, more
food must be given for the lime to act
upon. No farmer who knows what
the action of lime is, upon all soils, will
ever do without it, as an accessory to
his manure. It is a component part
of all crops grown by the farmer.
When applied to lands which had not
borne wheat for many years, it has at
once restored it to fertility for that
crop. Where it has failed once to re-
munerate the farmer using it, it has
proved of the greatest benefit a hundred
times.
100. CLEANLINESS FOR PL ANTS.
" If as much washing were bestowed
in London," says Dr Lindley, " upon
a pot plant as upon a lapdog, the one
would remain in as good condition as
the other. The reasons are obvious.
Plants breathe by their leaves ; and if
their surface is clogged by dirt, of
whatever kind, their breathing is im-
peded or prevented. Plants perspire
by their leaves ; and dirt prevents their
perspiration. Plants feed by their
leaves ; and dirt prevents their feeding.
So that breathing, perspiration, and
food, are fatally interrupted by and
accumulation of foreign matters upon
leaves. Let any one, after reading this
cast an eye upon the state of plants in
sitting-rooms or well-kept green-houses;
let them draw a white handkerchief
over the surface of such plants, or a
piece of smooth white leather, if they
desire to know how far they are from
being as clean as their nature requires."
101. MIGRATION OF PLANTS.
Botanists have long been convinced r
that the facts connected with the dif-
fusion of plants may often be explained
by an inquiry into the structure of
their seeds, the lightness of these, and
their capability of transportation by
winds ; by their texture preserving
them from destruction in the waters
of the ocean ; by the prevalence of par-
ticular currents in the air or sea ; or
by the presence or absence of moun-
tainous barriers, or other obstacles to
their dispersion. It had been observed
that the God of nature has provided a
variety of methods for the diffusion of
seeds. The most important are doubt-
less winds, or rivers, ormai-ine currents.
Some seeds are capable of preserving
their vitality in the stomach of birds,
and are thus propagated. Such are
the mistletoe and juniper. A number
of facts are upon record, which prove
that the migration of plants, by means
of currents in the ocean, to distant
shores, where the climate is congenial
to them, have formed new colonies.
Several remarkable instances of this
description are recorded in the Amoeni-
tates Academicce.
102. GRASS UNDER TREES. By
sowing nitrate of soda in small quan-
tities in showery weather, under trees,
a most beautiful verdure will be ob-
tained. I have used it under beech
trees in my grounds, and the grass
always looks green. Having succeeded
so well on a small scale, I have now
sown nitrate of soda among the long
grass in the plantations, which cattle
could never eat. I now find that the
herbage is preferred to the other parts
of the field.
103. DIET AND CLOTHING. All
changes in diet and clothing ought to
be gradual. Some persons are made
ill by the fresh fruits and vegetables of
spring, only because they partake too
largely of them at first. Some believe
that walking or riding does not agree
with them, because Ayhen indulged in
rashly and without previous training, it
has caused them serious indisposition.
But there are few persons who, by
beginning with walking half a mile out
and back again, and adding a quarter
of a mile every day, could not in a
254.
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
fortnight walk six or eight miles with-
out inconvenience. Any one who will
fairly try this gradual increase of
cise, will be astonished at the power it
developes.
104. THE BEST BREED OF
FOWLS. The Lest breed is allowed
to be that produced between our
common Irish hen and Dorking or
Surrey cock. This cross is larger and
plumper, and much more hardy than
the pure Dorking, which possesses re-
markable delicacy of flavour ; but
neither its delicacy of flavour nor its
particular whiteness of flesh are in the
least injured by the change. Many ex-
perienced poultry fanciers contend that
the common hens, when properly fed
and managed, are better layers; but
even if it were the case, they are not
so profitable where the sale of the fowl
is the object of the owners, as a large,
well-fed Dorking will often bring more
than double the price of a similarly-
treated dunghill fowl.
105. PREVENTION OF CONSUMP-
TION. In the course of the proceed-
ings of the British Association at Belfast,
Dr. M'Cormac read a paper on the duty
of guarding against disease from atmo-
spheric impurity. The doctor stated
that every individual, whatever his
station, should, for the preservation of
health, take a morning bath, pedestrian
exercise, and breathe night and day a
pure air. After showing how illness
was produced or aggravated by atmo-
spheric causes and want of cleanliness,
and alluding to the want of sanitary
arrangements, he stated that the re-
spiration of impure air was the sole
cause of consumption, and that were a
person to live night and day in the open
air he could not become consumptive.
To confine the consumptive in close
heated apartments was but to increase
and hasten the disease. They ought to
be kept as much as possible in the open
and pure air, an ounce of oxygen being
worth a ton of fish oil. Owing to the
perfumes, heavy hangings, and the
atmosphere of the houses of the rich,
they were almost as impure as the
houses of the poor, and the result
showed that the rich were no more
exempt from consumption than the
poor. The doctor insisted on the neces-
sity of all houses being regularly venti-
lated with large bodies of air of good
sewerage and cleanliness for the pre-
servation of health.
106. TO SWEETEN MEAT AND
FISH. When meat, fish, &c., from
intense heat or long keeping, arc likely
to pass into a state of corruption, a
simple and sure mode of keeping them
sound and healthy is by putting a few
pieces of charcoal, each the size of an
egg, into the pot or saucepan, wherein
the fish or flesh are to be boiled.
Among others, an experiment of this
kind was tried upon a turbot, which
appeared to be too far gone to be eatable.
The cook, as advised, put three or four
pieces of charcoal, each the size of an
egg, under the strainer in the fish-
kettle ; after boiling the proper time,
the turbot came to the table perfectly
sweet and firm.
107. MENTAL POWER OF THE
TWO SEXES. The question as to
the different intellectual capacities and
talents of man and woman has been
frequently agitated ; and it seems to
be decided, that in most respects there
is an equality of mental power; and
that in quickness of apprehension and
accuracy of discrimination women
generally excel. Their imagination is
not surpassed by the other sex ; nor is
their judgment less to be depended
on, in cases where they have had ex-
perience and a full opportunity to com-
pare. For in most cases, judgment is
but another name for taste ; and in
taste, as well as in imagination, women
have long been allowed the highest
meed of praise. But they also make
rapid progress in studies which require
something more than taste and imagi-
nation. They are equally capable of
attention as the other sex, and their
memory is also equally retentive. In
the study of grammar and in acquiring
a knowledge of languages, they succeed
altogether as well as men. And their
compositions on most subjects may be
justly pronounced equally pure and
elegant, when compared with those^of
the masculine pen. In metaphysics
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
255
and mathematics their trophies have
not been so great. But it may be said,
perhaps, that they have not put forth
any efforts in these departments. And
it may be as well that they should not.
For other and indispensable duties
seldom allow them the leisure for such
severe application.
108. THE USE OF FRUIT. Instead
of standing in any fear of a generous
consumption of ripe fruit, we regard
them as positively conducive to health.
The very maladies commonly assumed
to have their origin in a free use of
apples, peaches, cherries, melons, and
wild berries, have been quite as preva-
lent, if not equally destructive, in
seasons of scarcity. There are so many
erroneous notions entertained of fruit,
that it is quite time a counter-acting
impression should be promulgated,
having its foundation in common sense,
and based on the common observation
of the intelligent. We have no patience
in reading rules to be observed in this
particular department of physical com-
fort. No one, we imagine, ever lived
longer, or freer from the paroxysms of
disease, by discarding the delicious
fruits of the land in which he finds a
home. On the contraiy, they are neces-
sary to the preservation of health, and
are therefore caused to make their
appearance at the very time when the
condition of the body, operated upon
by deteriorating causes not always
understood, requires their grateful,
renovating influences.
109. CULTIVATION OF HYA-
CINTHS. To grow Hyacinths in Beds.
For convenience the beds should not
exceed five feet in width. Three feet of
soil should be dug out, and again filled
up to nearly one foot above the surface
with compost, consisting of two-thirds
sandy loom, and one-third thoroughly
decomposed cow-dung, to which may be
added a small portion of sea sand or salt.
Plant the bulbs from six to nine inches
apart, each way, and three or fourinches
deep. To grow Hyacinths in Pots.
Hyacinths succeed under pot-culture
only when their roots are allowed plenty
of room ; and with this view, a kind of
pot called the hyacinth-pot, is manu/
factured for the purpose. Plant the
bulbs so as to leave a small portion of
the top above the surface. Give a
supply of water, and place the pots in a
cool shady situation where the sun
cannot reach to stimulate the plants
into LEAF before they have made good
roots ; or they may be covez-ed to the
depth of three or four inches with sandy
soil for a month or six weeks. They may
then be removed to a greenhouse, or to
a light and airy room away from the fire.
To bloom Hyacinths in Water Glasses.
Hyacinths in water are more liable to
rot before they have formed roots than
when grown in soil, and even in a more
advanced state, unless they be carefully
tended, the roots will sometimes show
symptoms of decay ; the result being a
poor flower or no flower at all. The
glasses should be filled till the water
nearly touches the base of the bulb ;
rain or river water is to be preferred.
They are then to be placed in a cool
dark situation for eight or ten days,
when the water should be changed, and
the thick brown musty substance re-
moved from the crown or base. The
decayed portion of the onion-like skin
may also be cleared away, taking C-ire
not to injure the root-fibres. As roots
naturally avoid exposure to light, the
glasses should again be placed in a dark
place for a considerable time : indeed
the larger and finer the roots have
become previously to the plants being
forced into leaf, the greater the proba-
bility of an excellent flower. Fresh
water should be given once a week or
oftener according to convenience, but
with the chill taken off, so that it may not
be under the temperature of that in
which the plants have been growing,
otherwise they will receive a check.
110. COCOA-NUT CAKES. Three
eggs, ten ounces of sugar, as much
grated cocoa-nut as will form a stiff
paste. Whisk the eggs very light and
diy, add the sugar gradually, and when
the sugar is in, stir 'in the cocoa-nut.
Roll a tablespoonful of the mixture in
your hands in the form of a pyramid,
place them on paper, put the paper on
tins, and bake in a rather cool oven till
they are just a little brown.
256
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
111. COFFEE. Choose the coffee
of a very nice brown colour, but not
black (which would denote that it is
burnt, and impart a bitter flavour);
grind it at home, if poiMr. as you
may then depend upon the quality. If
ground in any quantity, keep it in a jar,
"hermetically sealed. Put two ounces of
ground coffee into a stewpan, which set
upon the fire, stirring the powder
round with a spoon until quite hot,
when pour over a pint of boiling water ;
cover over closely for five minutes,
when pass it through a cloth, warm
again, and serve. Soyer.
112. RICE CUP CAKE. Two cups
-of sugar, two cups of butter, one cup
and a half of rice-flour, half a cup of
wheat-flour, ten eggs, a teaspoonful of
nutmeg, half a pound of currants, half
a gill of rose-water. Beat the butter
and sugar very light ; whisk the eggs
till they are very thick, and stir in, add
the nutmeg and the flour gradually,
then the rose-water. Beat the whole
very hard for ten minutes. Stir in the
fruit, which must be floured, to prevent
it from sinking to the bottom of the
cake. Butter a pan, line it with thick
paper, well buttered, and bake it in a
moderate oven. Or you may bake the
batter in small pans.
113. DUTCH LOAF. A quarter of
a pound of butter, half a pound of
sugar, one pound of dried currants, two
tablespoonfuls of cinnamon, a pint of
rnge, as much flour as would form a
igh. Make a sponge the evening
before you wish to bake the cake, of a
teacupful and a half of milk, and as
much flour stirred into it as will form a
thick batter, with a little salt, and one
gill of good yeast. In the morning
this sponge should be light. Then beat
the butter and sugar together, add the
cinnamon, currants, and sponge, with
flour enough to form a dough. Butter
a pan, and when it is light, bake it an
oven about as hot as for bread.
114. THINGS TO BE FOUND
OUT. Nature is not exhausted. With-
in her fertile bosom there may be
thousands of substances, yet unknown,
as precious as the only recently found
gutta percha. To doubt this would be
to repudiate the most logical inference
afforded by the whole history of the
earth. Corn and grapes excepted,
nearly all our staples in vegetable
food are of comparatively modern
discovery. Society had a long existence
without tea, cotton, sugar, and potatoes.
Who shall say there is not a more
nutritious plant than the sugar-cane a
finer root than the potatoe a more
useful tree than the cotton ? Buried
wealth lies everywhere in the bowels of
the earth.
115. HOWTO MAKE A FORTUX K.
Take earnestly hold of life, as capaci-
tated for, and destined to, a high and
noble purpose. Study closely the
mind's bent for labour or a profession.
Adopt it early, and pursue it steadily,
never looking back to the turning fur-
row, but forward, to the new ground
that ever remains to be broken. Means
and ways are abundant to every man's
success, if will and actions are rightly
adapted to them. Our rich men and
our great men have carved their paths
to fortune, and by this internal princi-
ple a principle that cannot fail to re-
ward its votary, if it be resolutely
pursued. To sigh or repine over the
lack of inheritance, is unmanly. _ Every
man should strive to be a creator instead
of an inheritor. He should bequeath
instead of borrow. The human race,
in this respect, want dignity and disci-
pline. They prefer to wield the sword
of valorous forefathers, to forging their
own weapons. This is a mean and
ignoble spirit. Let every man be con-
scious of the power in him and the Pro*
vidence over him, and fight his own
battles with his own good lance. Let
him feel that it is better to earn a crust
than to inherit coffers of gold. This
spirit of self-nobility once learned, and
every man will discover within himself,
under God, the elements and capacities
of wealth. He will be rich, inestimably
rich in self-resources, and can lift his
face proudly to meet the noblest
among men.
116. HORSERADISH Horseradish
should be grown for cattle. It is aa
good a condiment for them aa it is
for man.
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
257
117. SILVERING IVORY. To sil-
ver ivory fancy work, prepare a strong
solution (a drachm to two ounces) of
lunar caustic ; protect such parts as are
not required to be acted on by copal
varnish ; then immerse the ivory- work
in the solution ; when it becomes yellow,
remove it to a glass vessel containing
distilled water, and expose to the rays
of the sun. In a short time it will
become black in those parts that are not
protected; it should then be removed
from the water, wiped dry, and rubbed
well with a piece of soft leather, when
the design will appear on the ivory in
a metallic state, and burnished; the
varnish should then be removed. We
particularly recommend the last pro-
cess for such purposes as ornamenting
tablets, paper-knives, &c. ; marking
crests on table knives, or, in fact, any-
thing that requires ornament or cy-
pher.
118. JAPANNING. TO PREPARE
WOOD OR METAL. For japanning,
the surface should be rubbed smooth
and clean with sun-paper or fish-skin,
and rushes. Papier mache* requires to
have any prominent pai*ts removed with
pumice-atone, then rubbed smooth, the
same as wood, and lastly, a coat of
strong size applied. Leather must be
securely strained, either on frames or
boards. The materials required con-
sist of common size or parchment size,
fish-skin, sand, or glass paper, Dutch
rushes, rotten stone, whiting, varnishes,
various pigments for grounding and
colouring, oil, spirits of turpentine,
mother-o'-pearl, and gold. The instru-
ments are simply some old linen and
woollen rags, a little wool or cotton,
and different sized brushes of hog's
and camel's hair. Japanning may be
divided into spurious japanning and
real japanning. Spurious japanning
comprises three varieties, the first of
which consists in painting in water-
colours on an under-coat of sizing or
opaque grounding, laid on the wood or
other substance, and then finishing with
the proper coats of varnish. The colours
are tempered with very strong isinglass,
size, and honey, and laid on very flat
and even. This kind of work is only
applicable to such articles as are not
exposed to much wear or violence, and
generally lasts for a considerable time.
The same method is pursued when
painting with water-colours on gold
grounding, to imitate the Indian-work.
The second consists in colouring prints,
glueing them to wood- work, and var-
nishing with copal or mastic varnish.
The third is simply employing a solu-
tion of sealing wax in spirits of wine
as the vehicle, which is laid on smoothly,
and allowed to dry gradually ; the pro-
portion of wax being two ounces to a
pint of spirits.
119. HORSE-SHOEING. Many
horses are injured by carelessness, or
improper management in shoeing. To
learn how to fit a shoe accurately to the
horse's foot, so that it shall properly
protect the foot, and at the same time
avoid the liability to injure it, is no
mean acquisition. The smith, to con-
duct his business properly, should have
an accurate knowledge of the anatomy,
physiology, and pathology of the horse's
foot, and then he will perform the ope-
ration of shoeing, not merely a s though
he was nailing a piece of iron to a block
of wood, but with all the caro and
nicety which the living structure re-
quires. The feet of horses differ so
much, that it requires great judgment
and a thorough knowledge of their ana-
tomical structure, to shoe each horse
in a manner best calculated to promote
the intentions of nature. Smiths gene-
rally pare the heel too much, or rather,
do not pare the toe enough ; the reason
is, that it is so much harder to cut.
When the horse stands upon the foot,
the heel is so much lower than it should
be, that the cords of the leg are strained;
so, after a night's rest, the legs are stiff
and sore, and the horse moves very
awkwardly. This, sometimes, 13 at-
tributed to founder, when in reality it
is caused by nothing but bad shoeing.
Frequently the toe is burnt off. This
is also injurious ; for, so far as the heat
penetrates, the life of the hoof, and the
only matter which gives toughness, are
destroyed, and the hoof becomes brittle,
and liable to crack. Care should be
taken to aee that the points of the nails
are free from defects ; for, sometimes,
after the nail has entered the hoof, it
253
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
splits, and a part penetrates the quick,
causing lameness.
120. CARROTS. From an experi-
ence in their growth, and a close obser-
vation of their effects, we are pn
to say that this is one of the beat roots
grown for the food of milch cows, and
are justified iu affirming that the carrot
is a highly nutritive root; that milch
cows, fed properly with it, yield more
milk than when fed upon hay alone,
yield it of a better quality, and, withal,
thrive upon it ; but carrots, as well as
parsnips, sugar-beets, or mangel- wurtzel,
or, indeed, any other roots, when given
to milch cows, should be mixed with
cut straw, hay, or fodder of some kind;
besides which, they should be given
other portions of long provender, uncut
or cut, as the feeder may see fit, by
itself. "NVhen given roots, cattle of
course consume long food, but still they
should receive such portions as, when
added to the roots they may receive,
will form an equivalent in nutrimental
matter to a full feed of hay-fodder, or
other long provender.
121. FRUIT-ROOMS. A very im-
portant consideration in the economy of
gardening is the construction and pro-
per keeping of fruit-rooms, and we will
satisfy the inquiries of several corre-
spondents on this subject : The fruit-
room ought to be well ventilated, for
which purpose it ought to have a small
fire-place. The room maybe of any form ;
but one long and narrow is generally
best adapted for ventilation and heating,
and drying, when necessary, by a flue.
The system of shelves may be placed
along on one side, and may be raised to
the height of six feet or more, accord-
ing to the number wanted. Forsyth
directs that all the shelves or floors on
which apples are to be kept or sweated
should be made of white deal, as when
red deal is made use of for these pur-
poses it is liable to give a disagreeable
resinous taste to the fruit, and spoil its
flavour. When white deal cannot be
procured, he advises covering the
shelves with canvas.
122. AVINTI-;U STORING OF
TLA NTS. An evil especially to be
guarded against by the gardener is the
over-crowding of plants in green houses
I during the winter. " Such collections,"
observes the Gardeners' Journal, " are
for the most part subject to all the ill
effects of damp and its attendants, mil-
l rottenness. The free circu-
lation of aiv becomes impossible; weak-
ness and etiolation are sure to result.
Half-ripened shoots have no chance of
elaborating and concentrating their
fluids; flowers are scanty or ill-formed
as an inevitable consequence ; and from
these circumstances arise the oft-re-
peated complaint ' The -winter has
played sad havoc among my plants ; not
the frost, but the damp. Even the tops
of the geraniums went black from the
effects of it, and many of them have
rotten patches in the leaves. The want
of sun has done the mischief.' "
1-23. LIQUID MANURE. We are
glad to perceive that the efficacy of
liquid manure in the production of ve-
getable life is becoming appreciated by
the intelligent classes who cultivate the
soil. A writer in the journal we have
quoted above says, " In the cultivation of
our finer fruits pine-apples, as an in-
stance it is a well-known fact, that the-
strongest plants, and consequently the
finest and heaviest fruits, are to be had
by the liberal application of manure in
a liquid state. In the kitchen-garden
it is turned to immense advantage, con-
sidering that heavy and speedy produces'
is what is most desirable. In order to
have fruit-tree borders properly drained,
depth of soil is not an object ; for ob-
vious reasons, then, we have the roots
near the surface of the border; and in
consideration of this, liquid manure be-
comes available." An extensive landed
proprietor, in Ayrshire, says : " It is
Juite wonderful what a quantity of
talian rye-grass, watered with the
liquid manure, can be cut from a Scotch
acre. It can be cut four times in the
year : and the weight of the four cuts
is upwards of 40 tons of moist Italian
rye-grass."
124. MODE OF PREPARING
GUANO FOR USE. In the "Har-
dening for the Million," we find the
following excellent directions for econo-
inisint and profitably distributing the
valuable manure which has so greatly
assisted the labours of the farmer : .
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
259
" A very simpl* and economical mode
of preparing guano for use, is to spread
two hundred weight of dry sifted
mould, &c., thre or four inches thick,
one hundred weight of sifted guano
over it, and two hundred weight of the
mould, &c., on that again : leave the
heap for two or three days, protected
from the weather ; then let it be well
mixed and sifted through a common
garden sieve. Thus prepared, it can be
sown without inconvenience to the far-
mer, and spread without loss evenly
over the field. Guano may be also used
with equal safety in a liquid state, dis-
solved in water; and perhaps this is
the most effectual mode of developing
its powers, for, like all concentrated fer-
tilisers, it requires a considerable supply
of moisture, and has always exhibited
the most productive results during wet
seasons. For this reason it is par-
ticularly desirable that the diy mixture
or compost, as we shall call it, should
be used immediately before rain. But,
as irrigation is too tedious and costly
for extensive operations, the liquid ap-
plication is almost necessarily confined
to the flower and kitchen garden."
125. PRESERVED FRUIT. The
following article appeared some time
ago in the Chronik des Gartenw&sens :
"Many persons have a custom of spread-
ing out their apples, which Avere ga-
thered in the month of October, on the
bottom or on shelves in an upper spare
room, with the view to dry them, in
order, as supposed, to make them keep ;
but this is erroneous, as apples kept in
such rooms for weeks together will
shrivel and lose their aroma, without
having gained any benefit in point of
keeping. It is stated that the following
method of preserving apples till spring
answers exceedingly well. The apples
are left as long as possible on the trees,
till frost is expected ; when the fruits
are gathered they are placed in large
tuns, and filled with dry sand; during
the summer the sand ought to be dried
by exposing it to the rays of the sun.
After the bottom of the tun is covered
with some sand, a layer of apples
is put upon it ; having filled the space
between the apples, and covered them
sufficiently with sand, an additional
layer of apples is placei, again covered
with sand, and so the process is con-
tinued till the tun is full. The peculiar
advantages of this management are
1st, the sand excludes the air, which is
essentially requisite for their duration ;
2nd, the sand prevents the evaporation
of the apples, therefore their aroma is
preserved, and the humidity or "sweat"
which appears on all apples is quickly
absorbed by the dry sand. Pippins
kept in this manner look in the month:
of May and June quite fresh, having
their full aroma ; even the stalks have
the appearance they have when just'
gathered."
126. TRANSPLANTING APPLE-
TREES. In removing and transplant-
ing rather large well-established apple- 1
trees, prepare a hole large enough to
admit of the roots being spread out at
full length. Remove as much of the
top soil as is possible without injuring
the roots, and dig a trench three feet
wide beyond the extremities of the lat-
ter, and deeper than they are, with the
exception of perhaps obstinate tap-roof.
This clear trench will afford space for
properly undermining the roots, and re-
moving the soil from amongst them
with a fork. The fibres should be tied
in parcels with matting, so as not to be
injured whilst the operation is going on.
Place the tree in its new quarters as
deep as it was before, and so as the
roots, when spread out regularly, may
slope a little downwards ; introduce a
fine soil among them, and water to set-
tle it closely. Provided the trees are
guarded, an orchard will not be injured
by the admission of sheep. No more
air should be admitted into an apple-
room than is absolutely required. Your
fruit having kept well in a dark room
where neither light nor air is admitted,
it is not necessary to alter the con-
ditions.
127. WEIGHT AND VALUE OF
EGGS. It is most extraordinary that
the varieties in the weight and value of
eggs as an article of merchandize should
have been so universally overlooked. So
far as known, it has always been the
custom everywhere to sell eggs by num-
ber, without respect to size, weight,
or peculiar quality. Yet no absurdity
260
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
can be greater. It has been ascertained
by careful experiments recently made
by the author, that the fair average
weight for a dozen of eggs i
ounces. Recently, on application to a
provision dealer, he made answer to the
inquiry addressed to him, that he made
no difference in the price of his eggs.
On examination oi' his stock, it appeared
that the largest eggs weighed 24 ounces
per dozen, and the smallest only 14 i
ounces. In the one case, a fraction over
eleven eggs would equal the average
weight of a dozen, and in the other it
would require over eighteen eggs to
reach the proper weight. It appeared
to our mutual astonishment, that the
difference in weight between the two
kinds was about one-half, while the
price was the same. Dr. Bennett's
"Poultry Bool:"
128. TREATMENT OF POTATOES
FOR PLANTING. I have observed
that potatoes left in the ground during
the winter are generally sound, and
make the best sets. Last winter I pur-
posely left some in the ground, having
protected them from rain and frost, by
throwing up deep furrows on them with
the plough, and leaving the potatoe
ridge like a roof. In the spring (last
week in April), I transplanted them on
some broken-up land that two years
ago was old grass, and rich enough to
grow any kind of crop without manure.
The result is, that the produce is less
infected than that of those treated in
the ordinary way. This year I intend
to leave all my potatoes, intended for
sets, in the ground, and to transplant
them in April next. This plan resem-
bles autumn planting ; and to carry it
out thoroughly, the transplanting in
the spring should be effected as soon as
the land is in a proper state. /. /.
Rowley, Raw home, ChesterfiJd.
129. SCALE AND OTHER IN-
SECTS ON TRLES, SHRUBS, AND
PLANTS. The following receipt has
been found very successful in destroying
scale, thrips, and other insects that in-
fest stove, greenhouse, hardy herbaceous
plants, and also trees and shrubs in the
open ground : -Prepare 1 hogsln
lime-water (use half a bushel of 1;
this quantity of water), add 4 pounds of
of sulphur, 6 quarts of tobacco-
. and 4 pounds of soft soap ; let
the whole be well mixed and incorpo-
rated together, and applied by dripping
or syringing, or in the case of trees or
shrubs, by squirting from an engine.
Allow the composition to dry and re-
main on for about a week or ten days,
then wash it off effectually with clean
water. Gardeners' Record.
130. GRAFTING. The proper sorts
of shoots for grafting and budding are
nut easily known by those not well ex-
perienced in the art. In taking shoots
for buds, more especially, they some-
times make enormous blunders by
cutting either too early or too late.
In general the shoots ought to be of
medium thickness, excepting those
having slender wood, and in that case
the thickest ought to be preferred ; all
ought to have made the greater part of
their growth, in order that a considera-
ble number of the buds on the lower
parts of the shoots may be completely
formed, for such only should be reserved
for budding ; seeing that the bark ad-
joining these will be also in a firmer
state ; for if the parts are too tender
and too herbaceous when placed in the
incision made in the stock, they are apt
to be decomposed by the abundance of
sap in the latter, which ought always
to be in greater flow than that of the
shoots which furnish the buds.
131. FOOT ROT. Take about four
ounces of the sulphate of copper, or, as
it is known at the shops, blue vitriol,
dissolve in a quart of rain-water. Cuttle
your affected sheep, pare the hoof away
from all the part affected ; be sure of
that, even if it takes it all off. Then ap-
ply the solution to every part of the
foot, carefully and thoroughly. If well
done, the cure is perfected. About a
week after examine the foot, lest you
may not have thoroughly pared off all
the hoof from the affected part. The
sheep ought to be kept in a dry pasture
for a week or so after the application.
132. RAISINS. These are made
from grapes, either by cutting the stalk
of the bunch half through when the
- are nearly ripe, and 1
suspended on the vine till their
watery part is evaporated by the heat
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
261
of the sun, whence they are called
Raisins of the Sun; or, by gathering
the fruit when fully ripe, and dipping
it in a ley made of the ashes of the
burnt tendrils ; after which it is ex-
posed to the heat of the sun, or to that
of an oven, till dry : the former are
reckoned the finest, and are imported
in boxes, others in jars, and the inferior
kinds in mats, &c. Spain is the country
which supplies us with the greatest
quantity of this article, and Malaga the
port whence they are exported chiefly.
Grenada, in Spain, and Calabria, in
Italy, are supposed to produce the best
fruit of any port.
133. INFLUENCE OF THE MOON
UPON THE WEATHER. A Paris
astronomer has published the results
of twenty years' observations upon the
influence of the moon upon the weather.
From the new moon to the first quarter
it rained (during the period of twenty
years embraced in the calculations) 761
days ; from the first quarter to the full
moon it rained 845 days ; from the full
to the last quarter it rained 761 days;
and from the last quarter to the new
moon it rained 696 days. So that during
the moon's increase there were 1609
rainy days, and during her increase only
1457 a difference of 152 days. This
difference was more likely to have been
accidental than the result of any na-
tural cause, and the conclusion which
we derive from the statement is that
the moon has no influence upon the
weather.
134. INSECTS IN FLOWER-GAR-
DENS. When plants or flowers are
attacked by insects, the following,
which is in no respect injurio^i tc siiy
plant, wilJ be fcvml at effectual remedy :
To six quarts of soft water, add half a
pound of black soap and a quarter of a
pint of turpentine. Apply this to the
stems with an ordinary paint-brush.
135. DESTRUCTION OF DEEP-
ROOTED WEEDS. The Council of
the Royal Agricultural Society had, at
a monthly meeting, their attention
called to a mode, proposed in Belgium,
for destroying docks, thistles, and other
deep-seated weeds, by the insertion of
a drop of oil of vitriol into the upper
part of their root, which, it was stated,
at once acted corrosively on its sub-
stance, and destroyed the vitality of
the plant.
136. PAPER-HANGINGS. A safe
rule with regard to paper-hangings,
is to choose nothing that looks extrava-
gant or unnatural. Regard should be
had to the uses of an apartment; a
drawing room should be light and
cheerful, a parlour should look warm
and comfortable without being gloomy ;
bed-room papers should be cool and
quiet, and generally of a small pattern,
and of such colours as harmonize with
bed-furniture and other fittings. It is
worth while to consider the sorb of pic-
tures to be hung on a wall ; gilt frames
show best on a dark ground, and dark
frames on a light ground ; taking care,
however, to avoid violent contrasts.
Borders are seldom used now ; they
make a room low, without being or-
namental.
137. SLEEP. To sleep a greater
number of hours than is necessary for
rest and refreshment is a voluntray and
wanton abridgment of life. She who
sleeps only one hour a day more than
health requires, will in a life of thre*
score years and ten, shorten her con-
scious existence nearly four years, al-
lowing sixteen hours to the day. Too
much sleep weakens the body, and
stupifies the mind ; but when we tak
only what nature demands, the body i
invigorated, and the mind has it*
powers renovated.
138. VARNISH FOR VIOLINS,
OR OTHER INSTRUMENTS. Take
half a gailou ?f y*etined spirits of wine,
to TuMiL put six ounces of gum-sand-
rach, three ounces of gum-mastic, and
half a pint of turpentine varnish. Put
the above in a tin can, in a warm place,
frequently shaking it, until it is dis-
solved ; then strain, and keep it for use.
If you find it harder than you wish,
add a little more turpentine varnish.
139. WASHING OF WOOLLEN
ARTICLES; AN EXCELLENT
WAY. It is a conlmon complaint that
woollen articles thicken, shrink, and be-
come discoloured in washing. The
complaint applies both to the lighter
articles of knitted wool, such as shawls
&c., and to thicker and heavier mate
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
rials table baizes, carpets, and men's
woollen garments. The difficulty in
either case may be obviated by strict
attention to the method about to be
explained. To clear the way. it may be
well first to point out some things
which never ought to be done, but
which frequently, perhaps generally,
are done : Woollen articles are never
to be washed in hard water, nor in
softened by soda, potash, or any-
thing of that kind. Soap even should
never touch them. They are never to
be rubbed at all. They are never to be
put in lukewarm water for washing, nor
in cold water for rinsing. They are
never to remain lying still in the water
a single minute. They are never to be
wrung. When taken out of the water,
they must not be laid down at all, be-
fore the process of drying is commenced,
nor at any time afterwards until they
are perfectly dry. Now, what is to be
done ? Let the things to be washed be
first well brushed and shaken, to get
rid of the dust. Before the woollen
things are wetted at all, take care to
have everything that will be required
ready and within reach. If several
things are to be done, let each be be-
guu and finished separately. This
makes no difference in expense or
trouble. A smaller vessel and smaller
quantity of lather will suffice, and the
stuff in which one article has been
washed would do no good, but harm,
to others : it is, in fact, good for
nothing. Use only fresh rain water, or
very clear river water ; rain is prefer-
able. With a piece of sponge or old
flannel, rub up a very strong lather of
either soft soap or best yellow soap.
For very large greasy things, the lather
may be made of ox-gall, half a pint to
six quarts of water, whisked up with a
handful of birch twigs (like that old
fashioned thing, a rod). In either case
the lather may be prepared with a small
quantity of water, and the remainder
added, boiling hot, the moment before
using it. The whole should be as hot
as the hand can bear it ; the hotter
the better. If the articles are very
dirty, two lathers will be required in
succession ; and unless a second person
is at hand, to rub up the second while
the first is being used, both had better
be prepared in separate vessels before
the wools are wetted, leaving only the
boiling water to be added. Take the
article to be washed, and without leav-
ing hold of it, keep on dipping and
raising, dipping and raising, for two or
three minutes. By that time the lather
will be absorbed by the wool, and the
liquor will resemble slimy suds.
Squeeze the article as dry as may be,
without wringing it. The second lather
having been brought to the same heat
as the first, proceed in the same
ner, dipping and raising. N.B. If the
article was very little soiled, and after
the first washing appears quite clear and
clean, the second washing may be in hot
water without soap. Whether lather or
water only, a blue-bag may be slightly
drawn through before the second
washing. When gall has been used, a
third washing in hot water only will
be required to take off the smell.
Having again squeezed the article as
dry as may be, for the lighter things,
such ae shawls, &c., spread it on a
coarse dry cloth, pulling it out to its
proper shape; lay over it another
coarse dry cloth, roll the whole up
tightly, and let it remain half an hour.
This rule does not apply to large heavy
things; they must be hung out at
once.
140. SOFT SOAP. Bore some holes
in your ley-barrel ; put some straw in
the bottom ; lay some unslaked lime on
it, and fill your barrel with good, hard,
wood ashes : wet it, and pound it down
as you put it in. When full, make a
basin in the ashes and pour in water ;
keep filling it as it sinks in the ashes.
In the course of a few hours the ley will
begin to run. When you have a .snfli-
cient quantity to begin with, put your
grease in a large iron pot ; let it heat :
pour in the ley ; let it boil, &c. Three
pounds of clean grease are allowed for
two gallons of soap.
141. USES TO WHICH TOBACCO
OF ENGLISH GROWTH MAY
BE APPLIED. 1. To florists, for two
elegant annual plants to decorate the
borders of the flower-garden; or, n
account of their height, to fill up vacant
places in the shrubberies; or, when
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
263
put into pots, they will be very
ornamental in the green-house during
the winter. 2. Kitchen - gardeners
would, in a few days, lose their crops of
melons, if not immediately fumigated
with tobacco-smoke, when attacked by
the red spider; and it is useful to
-destroy the black flies on cucumbers in
frames. 3. Fruit - gardeners. When
peach and nectarine-trees have their
leaves curled up, and the shoots covered
with smother-flies, or the cherry-trees
have the ends of the shoots invested
with the black dolphin-fly, canvass,
pack-sheets, or doubled mats, nailed
before them, and frequently fumigated
under them, will destroy those insects.
4. Forcing-gardeners, who raise roses
and kidney-beans in stoves, can soon
destroy the green-flies which cover the
stalks and buds of roses, and the insects
which appear like a mildew on kidney-
beans, by the assistance of the fumigat-
ing bellows. 5. Nurserymen. When
the young shoots of standard cherry-
trees, or any other trees, are covered
with the black dolphin-flies, an infusion
is made with the leaves and stalks of
tobacco; a quantity is put into an
earthen-pan, or small, oblong wooden
trough; one person holds this up,
whilst another gently bends the top of
each tree, and lets the branches remain
about a minute in the liquor, which
destroys them. 6. Graziers, when their
sheep are infected with the scab, find
relief from making a sheep-water with
an infusion of the leaves and stalks.
Moles, when only a few hills are at first
observed, may probably be soon driven
out of the ground by fumigating their
holes. 7. Herb tobacco is also greatly
improved by having some of the leaves,
when dried, cut with a pair of scissors,
and mixed with the herbs in any quan-
tity you may think proper, according to
the strength you require, and save you
the expenses of buying tobacco. The
herbs generally used for this purpose
are colt'a-foot and wood betony-leaves,
the leaves and flowers of lavender, rose-
mary, thyme, and some others of the
like nature.
142. WINE JELL Y. Soak four
ounces of gelatine in one quart of cold
water, for half an hour. In the mean-
time, mix with two quarts of cold water,
six table-spoonfuls of brandy ; one pint
of white wine ; six lemons, cut up with
the peel on ; the whites and shells of
six eggs, the whites slightly beaten, the
shells crushed ; three pounds of white
sugar : then mix the gelatine with the
other ingredients, and put them over
the fire. Let it boil, without stirring,
for twenty minutes. Strain it through
a flannel-bag, without squeezing. Wet
the mould in cold water. Pour the
jelly in, and leave it in a cool place for
three hours.
143. HOUSEKEEPING ECONOMY.
It is often a matter of great conveni-
ence as well as of economy, to give 3
new and presentable form to the remains
of dishes which have already appeared
at table : the following hints may, there-
fore, be not xmacceptable to some of our
readers. Calf's-feet jelly and good
blanc-mange are excellent when just
melted and mixed together, whether in
equal or unequal propoi*tions. They
should be heated only sufficient to
liquify them, or the acid of the jelly
might curdle the blanc-mange. Pour
this last, when melted, into a deep
earthen bowl, and add the jelly to it in
small portions, whisking tSem briskly
together as it is thrown in. A small
quantity of prepared cochineal which
may be procured from a chemist's will
serve to improve or to vary the colour,
when required. Many kinds of creams
and custards also may be blended
advantageously with the blanc-mange,
after a little additional isinglass has
been dissolved in it, to give sufficient
firmness to the whole. It must be ob-
served, that, though just liquid, either
jelly or blanc-mange must be as nearly
cold as it will become without thicken-
ing and beginning to set, before it is
used for this receipt. A sort of marbled
or Mosaic mass is sometimes made by
shaking together, in a mould, remnants
of various coloured blanc-manges, cut
nearly of the same 'size, and then filling
it up with some clear jelly. When a
small part only of an open tart has been
eaten, divide the remainder equally into
triangular slices, place them at regular
intervals, i-ound a dish, and then fill the
intermediate spaces, and cover the tart
2(4
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
entirely, with slightly-sweetened and
well-drained whipped cream.
144. JOHNNY CAKES. Sift a quart
of corn meal into a pan ; make a hole
in the middle, and pour in a pint of
warm water. Mix the meal and water
gradually in a batter, adding a teaspoon-
ful of salt ; beat it very quickly, and
for a long time, till it becomes quite
light ; then spread it thick and even
on a stout piece of smooth board ; place
it upright on the hearth before a clear
fire, with something to support the
board behind, and bake it well ; cut it
into squares, and split and butter them
hot. They may also be made with a
quart of milk, three eggs, one teaspoon-
ful of carbonate of soda, and one tea-
cupful of wheaten flour ; add Indian
corn-meal sufficient to make a batter
like that of pan-cakes, and either bake
it in buttered pans, or upon a griddle,
and eat them with butter.
145. BLUE WASH FOR WALLS.
Take one pound of lump blue vitriol ;
pound it in a stone mortar as fine as
possible ; dissolve it in a quart or two
of hot watei-. Slake about a quarter of
a peck, or perhaps a little more of lime,
and, when cold, pour in the blue water
by degrees, ana make it whatever shade
you desire. The lime must be slaked,
and the vitriol dissolved in earthen or
stoneware, and the whole mixture
stirred with a metal spoon. If wood is
used for any of the above purposes, the
colour will be changed. A new brush
should also be used to put it on the
walls, and they must first have a coat
or two of whitewash, to destroy all
smoke and other impurities.
146. ARTIFICIAL TEETH. Since
the introduction of artificial teeth,
which has enabled many to continue
the mastication of solid food to a period
of life at which they otherwise must
have swallowed it whole, longevity is on
the increase. Whether the dentist is
really to claim this fact as the triumph
of his art, or whether it be due to a
generally improved system of hygiene,
we will not discuss ; but, as mastication
ia so absolutely necessary, even to the
strong and healthy stomach, we may
fairly suppose that some years are added
to the lives of those who are thus
enabled to save distress to the other
when, by age, they
have naturally lost some of their power.
147 WHITE-WASHING THE
TRUNKS OF TREES. Being one day
upon a visit (observes Mr. North more,
who recommends this experiment) at
my friend's near Yarmouth, in the Isle
of Wight, I remarked that several of
the trunks of trees in his orchard had
been covered with white-wash ; upon
inquiring the reason, he replied that
he had done it with a view to keep off
the hares and other animals, and that
it was attended not only with that good
effect, but several others, for it made
the rind smooth and compact, by closing
up the cracks ; it entirely destroyed the
moss ; and as the rains washed off the
lime, it manui*ed the roots. These
several advantages, derived from so
simple a practice, deserve to be more
generally known. The white-wash is
made in the usual manner with lime,
and may be applied twice, or oftener if
necessary.
148. RULES OF DIET. No one
can make rules for another as to the
articles of diet which will agree with her.
To the healthy all things naturally
eaten are wholesome, if taken at proper
times and in moderate quantities;
those who are oppressed by their food
must find out for themselves what
agrees best with them, and what causes
disturbance. When once you have as-
certained clearly that a certain kind of
food disagrees with you, avoid it re-
solutely : for there is no more despicable
folly than that of indulging your palate
at the expense of your health. Do not
even suffer your politeness to betray you
into any indiscretion of this sort ; but
let your reasonable self-denial be proof
against the unreasonable importunity
of those who show their hospitality by
making war upon the health of their
friends.
149. ORIGIN OF THE COUNTRY
DANCE. The French country dances,
or contre-dances (from the parties being
placed opposite to each other), since
called quadrilles, (from their having four
sides) which approximate nearly to the
cotillon, were first introduced to France
about the middle of Louis Fifteenth's
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
265
reign. Previously to this period the
dances most in vogue were La Peri-
gourdine, La Matelotte, La Pavane, Les
Forlanes, Minuets, &c. Quadrilles,
when first introduced, were danced by
four persons only : four more were soon
added, and thus the complete square
was formed ; but the figures were ma-
terially different from those of the
present period.
150. STREET ETIQUETTE. It is
customary to remove the hat upon
meeting a person to whom you would
show the best courtesy. But it is not
a necessary observance; the habit of
merely bowing being pursued by many
persons of good taste. The several
modes of salutation may be said to
possess different qualities, and should be
adopted with due regard thereto. A
bow is a respectful and somewhat un-
familiar recognition ; raising the hat in-
dicates a higher degree of respectful
feeling; the presentation of the hand is
an indication of friendship, &c.
151. PASTILLES. There are
various modes of making pastilles. The
following are approved recipes : 1st.
Take of powdered gum benzoin 16 parts;
balsam of tolu, and powdered sandal
wood, of each 4 parts ; linden charcoal,
48 parts ; powdered tragacanth, and true
laudanum, of each 1 part; powdered
saitpetre, and gum arabic, of each 2
parts ; cinnamon- water, 12 parts. Beat
into the consistence of thick paste, and
having made into shape, dry in the air.
2nd. Gum benzoin, olibanum, storax,
of each 12 oz. ; saltpetre, 9 oz. ; char-
coal, 4 Ibs. ; powder of pale roses, 1 Ib. ;
essence of roses, 1 oz. Mix with 2 oz.
of gum tragacanth dissolved in a quart
of rose water. 3rd. The same formula
may be varied by the substitution of
pure orange powder for the roses, and
oil of neroli for the essence of roses.
4th. By adding a few grains of camphor
to the first recipe, a pastile suited to
an invalid's chamber is prepared. If the
scent of the above seems too powerful,
the proportions of saltpetre and char-
coal may be increased. Never use musk
and civet in pastilles.
152. AGE OF A HORSE. Every
horse has six teeth above and below ;
before three years old he sheds his mid-
dle teeth ; at three he sheds one more on
each side of the central teeth ; at four
he sheds the two corner and last of the
fore teeth. Between four and five the
horse cuts the under tusks ; at five will
cut his upper tusks, at which time his
mouth will be complete. At six years
the grooves and hollows begin to fill up
a little ; at seven the grooves will be
well nigh filled up, except the corner
teeth, leaving little brown spots where
the dark brown hollows formerly were.
At eight the whole of the hollows and
grooves are filled up. At nine there is
very often seen a small bill to the outside
corner teeth : the point of the tusk is
worn off, and the part that was concave
begins to fill up and becomes rounding ,
the squares of the central teeth begin
to disappear, and the gums leave them
small and narrow at the top.
153. SMOKE FROM GAS LIGHTS
It is pretty generally imagined that
the smoking of ceilings is occasioned by
impurity in the gas, whereas, in this
case, there is no connexion between the
deposition of soot and the quality of
the gas. The evil arises either from the
flame being raised so high that some of
its forked points give out smoke, or
more frequently from a careless mode
of lighting. If, when lighting the
lamps, the stopcock be opened suddenly,
and a burst of gas be permitted to
escape before the match be applied to
light it, then a strong puff follows the
lighting of each burner, and a cloud of
black smoke rises to the ceiling. This,
in many houses and shops, is repeated
daily, and the inevitable consequence is
a blackened ceiling. In some well-
regulated houses the glasses are taken
off and wiped every day, and before
they are put on again the match is
applied to the lip of the burner, and the
stopcock cautiously opened, so that no
more gas escapes than is sufficient to
make a ring of blue flame ; the glasses
being put on quite straight, the stop-
cocks are gently turned, until the
flames stand at three inches high.
When this is done few chimney-glasses
will be broken, and the ceilings will not
be blackened for years.
154. OFFERS OF MARRIAGE.
If the offer is made in writing you
'I ED.
should reply to it b ae
possible; and having, in
Bone of the embarrassment
Bonal interview you can make such a
careful selection of words as will best
convey your meaning. If the person is
estimable, you should express your
Sense of his merit, and your gratitude
for his preference, in strong terms ; and
put your refusal of his hand on the
score of your not feeling for him that
peculiar preference necessary to the
union he seeks. This makes a refusal
as little painful as possible, and soothes
the feelings you are obliged to wound.
The gentleman's letter should be re-
turned in your reply, and your lips
should be closed upon the subject for
ever afterwards. It is his secret, and
you have no right to tell it to any one ;
but if your parents are your confidential
friends on all other occasions, he will
not blame you for telling them.
155. CLEANING OIL PAINT! I
Soluble varnishes, such as sugar, gltie,
honey, gum arabic, isinglass, white of
egg, and dirt generally, may be removed
by employing hot water. To know
when the painting is varnished or coated
with such materials, moisten some part
with water, which will become clammy
to the touch. To clean the picture, lay
it horizontally upon a table or some
convenient place, and go over the whole
surface with a sponge dipped in boiling
water, which should be used freely
until the coating begins to soften ; then
the heat must be lowered gradually as
the varnish is removed. If, however,
the coating is not easily removed, gentle
friction with stale bread-crumbs, a
damp linen cloth, or the end of the
forefinger, will generally effect it, or
assist in doing so. White of egg may
be removed (if not coagulated by heat),
by using an excess of albumen (white of
egg, and cold water ; but if coagulated,
by employing a weak solution of a
caustic alkali, as potash.
156. TIMES OF TAKING FOOD.
Kature has fixed no particular hours
for eating When the mode of life is uni-
form, it is of great importance to adopt
fixed hours; when it is irregular, we
ought to be guided by the real wants of
the system as dictated by appetibe. A
strong labouring man, engaged in hard
work, will require food oftsner and in
than an indolent or
ny man. As a general rule,
about five hours should elapse between
one meal and another longer, if the
mode of life be indolent ; shorter, if it
be very active. When dinner is delayed
seven or eight hours after breakfast
some slight refreshment should be
taken between. Young persons when
growing fast require more food, and at
shorter intervals, than those do who
have attained maturity. Children
under seven years of age usually need
food every three hours; a piece of
bread will be a healthy lunch, and a
child seldom eats bread to excess.
Those persons who eat a late supper
should not take breakfast till one or two
hours after rising. Those who dine
late, and eat nothing afterwards, require
breakfast soon after rising.
157. SMALL FEET. Good sense
must tell that all attempts to render
the feet cramped and small are in-
jurious. A celebrated surgeon of the
present day has said, that it is the
rarest thing to find a foot the bones of
which have not been injured by this
practice. He says, the foot is con-
structed on the principle of a double
arch, one lengthwise and the other
crosswise ; when the foot is raised, the
ends of the arches contract ; when it is
on the ground, and the weight of the
body rests upon it, they expand, and
the arches become nearly flat ; and un-
less there is in the shoe ample room
for this expansion, some part of the
delicate structure must be injured.
The frequent complaints we hear of
inflammation and pain in the joints are
occasioned by shoes made too tight to
allow this necessary play of the foot.
All the misery of corns is produced in
the same way; and much of the bad
walking we see is referable to the same
cause. Now this practice is doubly
foolish, because it not only produces
much bodily suffering, but it misses of
the object for which that severe penalty
is incurred. However pretty we may
think little feet, there is no beauty in a
large one crammed into a shoe too
small for it. The moment the shoe
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
267
looks stuffed, and the instep seems tc
be running over it, the size of the foot
is more apparent than it would be in a
larger shoe ; the aim of the wearer is
defeated, and the torture is borne in
vain. Shoes that are too narrow make
the foot look like something rolled up
and stuffed into them ; they destroy all
form and comeliness and render the
step tottering, as if the soles of the feet
were round instead of flat.
158. A.GE OF FOWLS. The age of
the domestic cock varies from seven to
ten years. They have been known to
live longer than this. Buffon, indeed,
asserts that they may reach twenty
years ; but, unfortunately for them, we
have no interest in preserving their life
for any long time, and it is only by
some rare accident they are allowed to
die of old age. Aged fowls are readily
recognised by their listlessness, the few
eggs they lay, the great length of the
period of moulting, the length of the
spurs, which are also found on the
females, as well as the disposition to
crow, and the roughness of the feet and
combs.
159. ENAMEL OF TEETH. Very
near the gums of people, whose teeth
are otherwise good, there is apt to grow
a false kind of enamel, both within and
without; and this false enamel or
tartar, if neglected, pushes the gum
higher and higher, till it leaves the
fangs of the teeth quite bare above the
true enamel, so that the sound teeth
are destroyed, because the gum has
forsaken the part which is not sheathed
or protected in consequence of such
neglect. This false enamel must there-
fore be carefully scaled off; for the
gum will no more grow over the least
particle of the enamel than the flesh
will heal on the point of a thorn.
160. POT CULTURE OF THE
VERBENA. To have good plants,
select in April healthy cuttings of the
present year's growth, which will soon
root with a little bottom heat. When
rooted, pot off into four inch pots, and
replace them where they previously
were for a few days, when they may be
removed to a cool frame to be gra-
dually hardened. Then shift into six
or seven inch pots, and place them
where they are to bloom. Water at
this s f age may be given by syringing
them in the evening; and as they get
established in their pots more water
will be required. Rain-water is prefer-
able, but whether it is spring or rain,
let it be well exposed to the atmo-
sphere, and take care to have it of the
same temperature as the house the
plants are in. As soon as they com-
mence to grow freely, pinch out the
tops of the leading shoots. When the
lateral eyes have broken sufficiently,
thin them out to five or six ; as soon as
they require support, let them be tied
to neat stakes at a proper distance, so
that light and air may acton every leaf.
If early blooms are not wanted, it will
strengthen them very much if they are
divested of all trusses as soon as such
appear, until the plants get a little ad-
vanced. Weak manure water, free from
all sediment, may be given once a week,
and when the pots get full of roots
twice a week, which will greatly invigo-
rate them. Decaying trusses should be
cut off as soon as the pips begin to
drop, and the plants be frequently
turned round. When aphides make
their appearance, recourse must be had
to fumigation with tobacco imme-
diately. A calm evening is best suited
for this operation, and two gentle
smokings on successive evenings will
be found the most effectual. Should
mildew make its appearance, dust the
affected parts with flower of sulphur
the moment the least speck is observed.
The soil used for verbenas is equal parts
of turfy loam, leaf mould, and cow-dung
(the latter rotted to a black mould),
with a small portion of fine river sand,
used as rough as the potting will per-
mit. By the above mode I have grown
about 150 pots annually for a number
of years back, from which we have cut
a great supply of fine flowers, from July
to the end of October.
161 TEA. The principal varieties
of black teas are bohea. congou,
campoi, souchong, caper, and pekoe.
The last-mentioned one is the best. It
is prepared from the unexpanded leaf-
bud. Bohea is the lower grade of black
tea. To the green teas belong twan-
kay, hyson-skin, hyaon, imperial, and
268
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
gunpowder. The gunpowder here
stands in the place of the pekoe, being
composed of the unopened buds of the
spring crop. Imperial hyson and
young hyson consist of the second
and third crops. The light and inferior
leaves, separated from the hyson by a
winnowing-machine, constitute hyson-
skin. The peculiar flavour of tea de-
pends on the volatile oil, which is
lighter than water, and has a lemon-
yellow colour, and the taste and smell
of tea. Alone, it acts as a narcotic ;
but in combination with tannin, as
a diuretic and diaphoretic. It is ex-
tracted from tea by hot water, in
which, however, it is not always equally
soluble, its solubility being modified
by the other constituents.
162 HONEY BEES. Nearly every-
body supposes that the bee culls honey
from the nectar of the flowers, and
simply carries it to its cell in the hive.
This is not correct. The nectar it col-
lects from the flower is a portion of its
food or drink : the honey it deposits
in its cell is a secretion from its mellific
or honey-secreting glands (analogous to
the milk-secreting gland of the cow and
other animals). If they were the mere
collectors and transporters of honey
from the flowers to the honey-comb,
then we would have the comb fre-
quently filled with molasses, and when-
ever the bees have fed at the molasses
hogshead. The honey-bag in the bee
performs the same functions as the
cow's bag or udder, merely receiving the
honey from the secreting glands, and
retaining it until a proper opportunity
presents for its being deposited in its
appropriate storehouse, the honey-comb.
Another error is, that the bee collects
pollen from the flowers accidentally,
while it is in search of honey. Quite
the contrary is the fact. The bee,
while in search of nectar, or honey, as
it is improperly called, does not collect
pollen. It goes in search of pollen es-
pecially, and also for nectar. When
the pollen of the flower is ripe, and fit
for the use of the bee, there is no nectar;
when there is nectar, there is no pollen
fit for its use in the flower. It is gene-
rally supposed, also, that the bee col-
ects the wax with which it constructs
its comb from some vegetable substance
This is also an error. The wax is a
''>n from its body, as the honey is;
and it makes its appearance in small
scales or flakes, or under the rings of
the belly, and is taken thence by other
bees, rendered plastic by mixture with
the saliva of the bees' mouths, and laid
on the walls of the cell with the tongue,
very much in the way a plasterer uses
a trowel.
163. DISEASE OF POULTRY.
Before proceeding to the treatment of
disease, it must be premised that " pre-
vention is better than cure," conse-
quently a few general remarks on
poultry-houses, yards, and general
treatment, will not be out of place;
indeed, attention to these particulars
alone, has, in many instances, effected a
perfect cure, where there was every
symptom of positive disease. Let, then,
your poultry-house have, as near as
may be, a south aspect, its site be dry
it may be made so by draining, the
building itself as secure as possible
from vermin, and well ventilated, and
the yard, if on a wet soil, dug out at
least a foot and-and-a-half deep, and
formed of ballast, or brick rubbish,
covered with good binding gravel, well
levelled, and so arranged that wet shall
not remain upon it, aud that it may
j admit of frequent sweeping. In order
to prevent the fowls, and chicks
especially, from being annoyed by in-
sects, clean out the house frequently,
and never forget to do the same with
the nest-boxes, which are their principal
hiding places, and twice or thrice a
year limewhite the inside thoroughly.
Somewhere, under cover, have a large
shallow box filled with wood-ashes and
dry sand in which your birds may dust
themselves, which you will find them
often doing. Mind ! wood-ashes, not
coal, as the former purify, while the
latter soil and spoil, especially birds of
light plumage. If you have perches or
I roosts at all, let them be broad and
I smooth narrow ones injuring the
I breast-bone. For my own part, I
prefer having no roosts ; but the floor
covered with clean straw, or other dry
litter, well shaken up every day.
Besides good corn and that not of one
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
269
kind continually, but varied, give them
a good supply of green food regularly,
particularly if they have not free access
to a small orchard or paddock. In
fine, treat them not as graminivorous
only, bnt as omnivorous, which will
greatly tend to health.
164. PLANTING BOX FOR
EDGINGS. The operation of planting
box has ever been considered one in
which much practice is needed ; that it
is a labour of time and inconvenience,
even to the experienced labourer, as
usually performed, we will not deny ;
the simple process here recommended
saves the one and eases the other to an
extent which only needs to be known
to be generally practised. The usual
mode, after forming the trench and
inner edge, is to place the strips or
tufts of box one by one along the
length to be planted, securing the same
from time to time by pressing the ex-
cavated soil against the roots, the tips
being regulated to a line stretched for
the purpose. This involves an amount
of kneeling and stooping both painful
and injurious. Having provided your
box, and prepared it in the usual way
ready for planting, it is simply neces-
sary to have a few strips of deal, four,
five, or six feet long, say half an inch
thick by an inch wide, or common pan-
tile laths cut into lengths will answer
the end ; some shreds of matting or
thin string are also required. With
these inexpensive and simple materials
you can prepare any number of yards
in the potting-shed, house, or other
building, by laying one strip of wood
on the bench or table, on which arrange
the prepared box, thin or thick, as de-
sired ; then place a second strip of deal
on the box, and secure the two strips
together by tying at each end ; thus is
the box secured, as it were, between a
clamp, and cannot fail to be even.
Place these lengths along the bed or
border, and secure them by pressing
the soil to the roots with your spade or
rake, which done, cut the ties; thus
are the laths released from the box,
and lengths in feet planted with as
much despatch as inches by the ordi-
nary method, and with an amount of
regularity and evenness not attainable
by the usual plan, at the same time
avoiding the painful, back aching pro-
cess of kneeling for hours while plant-
ing but a few yards.
165. DWARF PLANTS. Choose
the time when the tree is in flower, and
select a branch, preferring that which
is most fantastic and crooked. By two
clean circular cuts, about an inch of
bark is removed all round the stem,
and earth is applied to the wound, and
made to press upon it by a piece of
cloth. This application is kept moistened
until roots are formed at the incision,
when the branch is removed, is potted,
and thus becomes an independent tree.
As the process is only a substitution of
a part for the whole, it cannot properly
be called dwarfing ; great care and skill,
however, are required for its successfux
accomplishment. In China, where the
process originated, the trees most com-
monly thus treated are the dimocarpus,
litchi, the favourite fruit of the coun-
try ; the carambol, with its octagonal
fruit ; the loiigan, a kind of plum ; the
orange, apple, pear, &c. The great rule
to be observed is, to confine your ope-
rations to plants of a succulent nature,
or, in other words, such as are least
dependent upon soil and water. That
we may be as popular as possible, we
may mention cactuses, and mesemb-
ryacese, or ice-plants, as illustrations of
what we mean. Small shoots of differ-
ent varieties of these and similar
families of plants must be taken off
and rooted in the usual way, and
afterwards removed to the small pots
intended for them. It is evident that
when the space is so small, great atten-
tion should be paid to the soil and
drainage. The latter will be best secured
by potsherds broken to the size of a
small pea, and placed to the depth of
the third of an inch in the bottom of
the pot. The soil should be porous,
composed of white sand, leaf-mould,
and a portion of pounded crocks, still
finer than that used for the lower
drainage. As growth is to be deprecated
in these tiny specimens, no more mois-
ture must be afforded than is sufficient
to secure health.
166. GRAVEL WALKS. Take the
brine from a ealting tub, and having put
270
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
to it three parts of soft water, pour it
on your gravel walks : it will not only
killmoss, but effectually destroy worms,
and also prevent weeds springing up. IV
careful, however, not to do this if the
borders are edged with box, which the
brine will destroy ; it is only available
when the walks are bounded with slate
or pome other matei'ial.
167. LEFT-HANDED CHILDREN".
Children are apt to accustom them-
selves to use the left hand more
readily than the right, and so become
what is termed left-handed. Left-hand-
edness is always a mark of careless
nurture ; for no species of imperfection
may be so easily guarded against. When
the child begins to use a spoon, or to
handle any object, let care be taken to
make it use the right hand chiefly, and
also accustom it to shake hands only by
that hand. By these means it will soon
learn that the right is the proper hand
to employ, and in this respect will grow
up faultless:
168. NATURE OF HAIR. The
hair, when naturally white, or of a very
light flaxen, as is often the case in
children, and in some adults, contains
phosphate of magnesia, which ultimately
disappears in children, when their hair
gradually darkens as they advance in
age. The colouring oil of black hair is
of a dark green, which becomes lighter
in the different shades from black to
light brown. The colouring principle
of red hair is red ; that of yellow hair
a modification of red ; that of auburn
hair a mixture of red and dark green ;
that of white and flaxen hair is almost
without colour.
169. FOOD FOR SINGING BIRDS.
The following is said to be superior
to the German paste in common use.
Knead together three pounds of split
peas, ground or beat to flour; one
pound and a half of fine crumbs of
bread and coarse sugar, the fresh yolks
of six raw eggs, and six ounces of un-
melted butter. Put about a third part
of the mixture at a time in the frying-
pan over a gentle fire, and stir it con-
tinually till it be slightly brown, but by
no means burnt. When the other two
are done also, and all become
cold, add to the entire quantity six
ounces of maw-seed, and six pounds of
hei!ip->eed, bruised and separated
from the husks. Mix the whole well
er, ;md it will bo found an excel-
lent food for thrushes, red robins, larks,
linnets, canary-birds, finches of the dif-
ferent sorts, and most other s:
birds, preserving them admirably in
.song and feather.
170. BED-CURTAINS UNWHOLE-
SOME. The practice of enclosing the
bed with curtains is opposed to healthy
sleep. In many cases the material used
is so thick and porous as to imbibe the
rising exhalations, and otherwise pre-
vent the free circulation of air. It
would be in vain to have lofty, well-
ventilated apartments if this practice is
continued. All the purposes for which
curtains are required, viz., the preven-
tion of drafts and exposure, are equally
answered by having a curtain across
the room or on one side of the bed,
without having the roof covered and
curtains drawn so closely round that
the sleepers are enclosed in as .small a
space as possible. The fact that if a
caged bird be hung up in the interior
of a bed enclosed with curtains, either
during the night or shortly after the
sleepers have risen, it will soon die, is a
sufficient proof that the air is so vitiated
that it is not fit for the support of life,
and shows the necessity of providing for
its escape and constant renewal. Iron
bedsteads are preferable to wood in pro-
moting cleanliness; there is not so
much harbour for dust, and conse-
quently for vermin; and, when ja-
panned, they are most easily washed
and kept clean.
171. A VERY REVIVING ODOUR.
Fill with recently-gathered and dried
lavender flowers, stripped from then-
stalks, small wide-necked scent-bottles,
and just cover them with strong acetic
acid. A morsel of camphor, the size of
a hazel-nut, may be added, with advan-
tage, to the lavender, in each bottle.
Sound, new, and closely fitting corks
should be used, to secure the mixture
from the air. It is exceedingly refresh-
ing and wholesome, and has often
proved veiy acceptable to invalids.
The lavender should be gathered for it
before it is quite fully blown.
DISCOVERIES AND INVENTIONS
271
DISCOVERIES AND INTENTIONS.
THEIR SIMPLE AND OBSCUBE ORIGIN.
IT is said to be one of the marks of a
great mind and original genius, that
while it is carrying on investigations of
the most sublime character, and en-
gaged in the most lofty pursuits, it
never neglects the details of anything,
but attends to all the minutiae con-
nected with them. This is very impoz*-
tant, when we consider that things
apparently insignificant, and not worthy
of our attention, have sometimes been
the pivots on which have turned affairs
of the gi<eatest consequence. Not that
we would have the mind engross itself
with these little things, for this would
be the mark of a littleness and trifling ;
but to give to them their place in their
situations and connections; making
them serve the purposes to which they
can be applied, and then dismiss them
from the attention until needed again.
But we should not deem these little
things as beneath our attention, and un-
worthy of our notice, when we consider
that the Great Mind of the Universe,
while He keeps suns and systems in
their places, and impels and guides
the planets in their orbits, notices the
fall of the sparrow, and the number of
the hairs of our head.
What should we think of him who
should disregard the particles in lan-
guage, because of their smallness and
apparent insignificance, when a word of
three letters (the) can make definite
what was before vague and uncertain ;
and another of three letters (for) can
show the most important relations, and
another (and) a connection of the greatest
consequences ! And as these little
words are the hinges, or joints, on
which language frequently turns, so, as
we have observed, are little things
points on which matters of the the
greatest consequence sometimes move,
and by which they are completely
changed.
It is particularly important in the
pursuit of what are called the natural
sciences, to notice closely minute things,
as they are frequently those chiefly en-
gaged in the most important processes
and changes, and Ixave been the
of the greatest discover.
We now design noticing the vary
simple, obscure, and humble manner in
which some of the greatest dis<;< . .
and most important inventions have
hud their origin. And, a there are
several names which have thus been
rendered illustrious, we shall mention
them in connection with the discove-
ries with which they are immediately
associated.
At the head of the list stands that of
Sir Isacc Newton, one of the greatest
minds of ancient or modem times ; and
the bare mention of which is connected
with the moat sublime of sciences.
That ardent but humble spirit of in-
quiry, so necessary to success, was cha-
racteristic of his mind. Hence, he used
to speak of himslf as having been all
his life but " a child gathering pebbles
on the sea-shore." This shows the spirit
in which he pursued his investigations.
And he was accustomed modestly to
say, that " if there was any mental
habit or endowment in which he ex-
celled the generality of men, it was that
of patience in the examination of the
facts and phenomena of his subject."
It was from one of the most simple
incidents that Newton was enabled to
disclose to the world the system of the
universe : that of the fall of an apple,
a thing that had been observed millions
of times without any recognition and
application of that principle which he
discovered and carried out into the
boundless universe. It is said to have
taken place in his twenty-third year,
when, during the prevalence of the
plague in London, at his retreat in the
country, he was one day sitting or lying
under an apple-tree in his garden, and
an apple fell beside him. He immedi-
ately began to reflect on the cause of
the fall of the apple, which, attributing
to the right principle, the attraction of
gravity, he extended it to the universe,
and found that it,was that which kept
the sun in the centre of the solar sys-
tem, the planets in their orbits, as they
revolve around him, and their satellites
in their orbits around them.
The existence of gravitation, or a
272
DISCOVERIES AND INVENTIONS
tendency to fall towards the centre of
the earth, was already known, as affect-
ing all bodies in the immediate vicinity
of our planet; and the great Galileo
had even ascertained the law, or rate,
according to which their motion is ac-
celerated as they continue their descent.
But no one had as yet dreamed of the
gravitation of the heavens, till the idea
now first dimly rose on the mind of
Newton.
The name of Galileo furnishes an-
other illustrious example of important
discovery from common occurrence,
and of the triumph of science. Stand-
ing one day in the metropolitan church
at Pisa, he noticed the movements of a
suspended lamp, which some accidental
disturbance had caused to vibrate. The
application of this regular motion to
the measurement of time suggested it-
self to him ; and the invention of the
pendulum was the result the principle
of the most perfect measure of time
that we have. Now this incident had
no doubt been noticed thousands of
times before by others, but it was re-
served for the philosophic attention of
Galileo to turn it to advantage, though
he was not yet twenty years of age.
" How striking an example is this for
us," observes an eminent writer, "when
we discover, or think we discover, any
fact in the economy of nature which
we have reason to believe has not pre-
viously been observed ! Let it at least
be verified and recorded. No truth is
altogether barren ; and even that which
looks, at first sight, the very simplest
and most trivial, may turn out fruitful
in precious results."
It was from a circumstance, if not
similar, yet partaking of the nature of
the same simplicity, that this philoso-
pher discovered the noble instrument
which has rendered him the most illus-
trious, and given his name the greatest
notoriety. While he was residing at
Venice, a report came to that city that
a Dutchman had presented to Count
Maurice of Nassau an instrument by
which distant objects were made to
appear ay if near. This was all that
was stated, and this was enough for the
mind of Galileo. He set himself at
work, and soon found that by a certain
arrangement of spherical glasses he
could produce the same effect. The
discovery of the telescope was the
result.
To a very simple circumstance we
owe the discovery of one of the most
beautiful of modern arts. Prince Ru-
pert one morning noticed a soldier rub-
bing the rust off his gun -barrel, occa-
sioned by the dew of the night before ;
and that it left on the surface of the
steel a collection of very minute holes
resembling a dark engraving, parts of
which had, here and there, been rubbed
away by the soldier. The kind of en-
graving called mezzotinto was thus sug-
gested to him, and its invention the
result of his experiments.
The waving of a linen shirt hanging
before the fire, in the warm and ascend-
ing air, or the ascending of smoke in a
chimney, suggested to Stephen Mont-
golfier the invention of the air-balloon,
The discovery of galvanism affords
another of those instances of a great
result from a very simple occurrence.
About the year 1790, Galvani, a pro-
fessor in the university of Bologna, was
engaged in a series of experiments to
show the intimate connection between
muscular motion and electrical action.
One day some dead frogs, which were
intended to make soup for his lady,
who was ill, were lying on a table near
an electrifying machine, when a stu-
dent, in the absence of Galvani, was
amusing himself with the instrument,
and noticed that convulsive motions
took place in the muscles of one of the
frogs, when touched by a piece of
metal.
Madame Galvani, a lady of great in-
telligence, communicated it to her hus-
band, who afterwards discovered the
means of exciting these contractions at
pleasure, by merely using two wires of
different metals, independent of the
electrical machine. Thus was dis-
covered galvanism, one of the most
powerful modes of electrical action, and
which has been the means of some of
the most brilliant discoveries and
achievements in chemical science.
There are other similar cases to these,
WIsrDOW GARDENING.
273
which might be enumerated. It is in
this way that many great inventions
have been suggested. Printing was, no
doubt, first thought of by an impression
made, similar to that by a type, turned
to proper advantage by genius. " It is
a mark of superior genius," says Mrs.
Mariet, in her " Conversations on Na-
tural Philosophy," "to find matter for
wonder, observation, and research, in
circumstances which, to the ordinaiy
mind, appear trivial, because they are
common ; and with which they are sa-
tisfied, because they are natural ; with-
out reflecting that nature is our grand
field of observation, that within it is
contained our whole store of know-
ledge."
The application of the power of elec-
tricity to machinery, so as to obtain
any force, and which is said recently to
have been done to some extent, will be
one of the most brilliant achievements
ever made in human science ; and that
of perpetual motion, in self-moving ma-
chines (if it can ever be effected), will
far surpass every other discovery yet
made. Dr. T. R. Howard.
WINDOW GARDENING.
A CORRESPONDENT of the Gardener's
Chronicle says : " It is known to many
that a highly interesting instance of the
practicability of converting the lower
part of a shop or house-window into an
hermetically sealed case (Wardian ?) for
the growth of small tropical or green-
house plants, is to be seen in the corner
(chemist) shop at the end of Sloane-
street, London, forming an angle of
Sloane-square. Upwards of ten years
ago I well remember the interest which
a passing notice of this shop-conserva-
tory afforded, as a sort of relief, after
the inconvenient perambulation of that
long avenue of brick and mortar, which
an occasional disappointment of a con-
veyance imposes upon the pedestrian.
About the period referred to, the plants
contained in this case were various ferns,
lycopods, aloes, &c. &c. Window gar-
dening is probably yet in its infancy.
Why should not the whole area of one
window in a drawing-room be entirely
devoted to this object ? The partial ab-
sence of light would not, I fancy, be
greater than the exclusion arising from
the usually suspended draperies or hang-
ings. Perhaps one of the main difficulties
in the successful management of large
Wardian cases arises from the deficient
means of maintaining or regulating the
requisite degree of humid atmosphere.
I have often thought that the lowest
plants should rest upon a floor or trellis
elevated from the bottom of the case,
which would admit of an additional fea-
ture of interest, namely, a reservoir of
water, which might either be trellissed
over, or the garden artist might erect a
small picturesque pyramid in the centre,
or otherwise bridge it over with such
material as that the graceful fronds and
stoloniferous branches of the ferns and
lycopods might wave their slender forma
over the water. It may appear chimeri-
cal even to suggest the probability, that,
ere long, the requisite temperature and
humid atmosphere required for large
Wardian cases will be supplied by an in-
genious contrivance for heating the
reservoir at the base by a communicat-
ing medium with the drawing-room
fire.
MISCHIEF-MAKING.
THE duties and obligations of social
life are often misunderstood, as well as
sadly violated. The confidence of
friends is abused, and the insidious, the
hypocritical, and the malignant, take
advantage of thoughtless expressions,
uttered perhaps, in moments of excite-
ment, to provoke distrust, foment
jealousy, and thus cause bitterness and
ill-will. It has been well and forcibly
said, that to "repeat what you have
heard in social intercourse is sometimes
a deep treachery, and when it is not
treacherous it is often foolish." The
idle tatler, who runs from door to door,
listens eagerly to all that is said, then
repeats, exaggerates^ or by wicked in-
sinuation, conveys a meaning that was
never intended, is a source of infinite
mischief, and often of bitter and hope-
less feuds between neighbours and
families. We can conceive of no
274
MISCHIEF-MAKING.
treachery more deplorable or more
censurable than that which abv.s
frankness and confidence of an honest
nature, audby persuasion or distort ion
creates an offence and inflicts a \vmnd
where nothing of the kind was in-
tended. Thus a confidential conversa-
tion will be repeated, with the most
solemn injunctions not to betray the
mischief-maker, who not only tells the
whole truth, but adds some unaxitho-
rised interpretation, or describes the
manner as having been offensive, when
the fact was exactly otherwise. Some
dark suggestion, hint, or inxiendo is also
made, and thus a playful remark, or a
frank expression, is tortured into a
slander, an insult, or a slight. The
breech thus created unwittingly
created, so far as the original parties
are concerned is widened from day to
day by a double system of treachery
and betrayal the mischief-maker pro-
fessing to be confidential with both
parties, and enjoining secrecy upon
both. Hence, hearts become estranged,
friendships are broken, and affection is
stifled. There are, we are aware, many
mischief-makers, who are so, thought-
lessly, foolishly, and without any deep,
deliberate, or serious design of doing
evil. They are simply babblers or
tatlers, who lack discretion, judgment,
and common sense, and who have never
been able to practise the philosophy of
holding their tongues. The infirmity
of such is soon detected, and thus, by
the practice of a little caution, their
power to do harm is nullified. But
there are others who are subtle, wily,
and adroit, and who, as if prompted bv
some incarnate fiend, seek for and
study every opportunity to undermine,
underrate, and dai'ken character, de-
stroy reputation, impair confidence, and
sever friendship. We can conceive of
no darker illustration of human depra-
vity.
" A lip of lies a face formed to conceal."
There is scarcely an individual in
existence who could not be injured
seriously, if not fatally, by such insidi-
ous and double-faced guile. It is
-ible at all times to be watchful
and wary, especially in social life, and
;rse is free, frank, and
raised. At such moments the
tifcoufchts and fuel ings are apt to be ex-
pressed with the utmost freedom, and
even the weaknesses and prejudices of
cherished friends to be alluded to, not
in bitterness or uukindness, but in con-
fidence, sincerity, and sympathy. If,
however, a malicious mischief- maker
happen to be at hand, it is the .
thing in the world to misrepresent the
real facts of the case, so as to annoy,
irritate, and inflame to create a senti-
ment of distrust and of coldness, and
thus to lay the foundation of a mis-
understanding which, if followed up,
is sure to end in enmity and ill-will.
Some persons are, moreover, quite
sensitive on certain subjects, while
others are particularly callous. The
mischief-maker is sure to discover all
this, and to play his game accordingly.
We some time since heard the particu-
lars of a sad case. A young lady was
engaged to be married, and the wedding-
day was fixed. Meanwhile her affianced
was accidentally thrown into the society
of a former lover, and he either reck-
lessly or maliciously made an insinua-
tion utterly unfounded, as was after-
wards shown which shook the confi-
dence of the intended husband, pro-
voked a misunderstanding, and led to a
final separation. He soon after left
the city, was seized with illness, and
died. Her fate was equally melancholy :
" A whisper broke the air
A soft, light tone, and low,
Yet barbed with shame and woe
Now, might it only perish there,
Nor further go!
Ah, me ! a quick and eager ear,
Caught up the little meaning sound!
Another voice has breathed it clear,
And so it wander'd round
From ear to lip from lip to ear.
Until it reached a gentle heart,
And that it broker
But who cannot point out illustra-
tions? The vice is heartless, cruel, and
dangerous, and its victims, directly or
indirectly, may be counted by thou-
sands. It is such an easy thing to
wound a sensitive spirit. It is so light
HOW TO TREAT A WIFE.
275
.'i task to stain or soil the reputation !
Confidence may be so readily disturbed
suspicion may be so promptly excited:
How many merchants have had their
credit ruined how many honest men
have had their prospects blighted, and
their families subjected to all the
horrors of poverty how many un-
kindnesses have been provoked how
many ties of love have been severed
how many hearts have been lacerated,
how many families have been made
miserable by the thoughtless or the
vicious, the heedless or the crafty and
malignant propensities of the mischief-
maker? The poor wretch who, in a
moment of necessity, and labouring
under all the horrors of hunger, com-
mits some paltry theft, with the object
of satisfying the cravings of nature, is
promptly arrested, convicted, and sent
to " durance vile ;" but how many
destroyers of the peace of families,
disturbers of the happiness of house-
holds in brief, moral assassins of
character perform their wicked work
so artfully, stealthily, and hypocriti-
cally, that they see the ruin and the
wreck they make, and yet contrive to
escape the responsibility ! Let them
be assured, however, that a day of
reckoning will come !
HOW TO TREAT A WIFE.
WE have somewhere met -with a few
instructions which may serve you. Pa-
tience and cheerfulness are the great
requisites in married life. You may
have great trials and perplexities in
your business with the world, but do
not therefore carry to your home a
clouded or contracted brow. Your
wife may have many trials, which,
though of less magnitude, may have
been as hard to bear. A kind, con-
ciliating word, a tender look, will do
wonders in chasing from her brow all
clouds of gloom. You encounter your
difficulties in the open air, fanned by
heaven's cool breezes ; but your wife is
often shut in from these healthful in-
fluences, and her health fails, and her
spirits lose their elasticity. But, oh !
bear with her; she has trials and sor-
rows to which you are a stranger but
which your tenderness can deprive of
all their anguish. Notice kindly her
little attentions and efforts to promote
your comfort. Do not take them all as
a matter of course, and pass them by,
at the same time being very sure to
observe any omission of what you may
consider due to you. Do not treat her
with indifference, if you would not
sear and palsy her heart, which, watered
by kindness, would, to the latest day of
your existence, throb with sincere and
constant affection. Sometimes yield
your wishes to hers. She has prefer-
ences as strong as you, and it may be
just as trying to yield her choice as to
you. Do you find it hard to yield some-
times? Think you it is not difficult
for her to give up always? If you
never yield to her wishes, there is
danger that she will think you are self-
ish, and care only for yourself, and
with such feelings she cannot love you
as she might. Again, show yourself
manly, so that your wife can look up
to you and feel that you will act nobly,
and that she can confide in your judg-
ment.
DELAYS.
BY ROBERT SOUTHWEL 1519.
[Wo copy the following verses from
an old English book, and believe their
promptings just as good as though they
were not two hundred and fifty-seren
years old !]
SHUN delays, they breed remorse :
Take thy time, while time is lent thee;
Creeping snails have weakest force ;
Fly their faultiest thou repent thee;
Good is hest when sooner wrought,
Ling'ring labours come to nought.
Hoist up sail while gale doth last,
Tide and wind stay no man's ple&snre I
Seek not time, when time is past,
Sober speed is wisdom's leisure :
After wits are dearly bought,
Let thy fore-wit guide thy thought.
Time wears all his locks before ;
Take thou hold upon his forehead i
When he flees, he turns no more
And behind his scalp is naked.
Works adjourned have many stay*;
Long demurs breed new delay*.
-
276
HOME AND ITS PLEASURES.
HOME, AND ITS PLEASURES.
Is there any other word in the vo-
cabulary of nations that is so expres-
sive, so suggestive, so gentle, and so
important in its wide signification as
that which heads our article ? Home !
What a talisman it is, what a spell,
what an invocation ! Is there any
heart, old or young, that does not beat
responsive to the sound of that one
word ? Is there any brain so dull into
which it does not flash with a gush of
suggestive congruous fascinations ? We
have all had a home. Perhaps we
have not all got one ; but we have cer-
tainly all had one. Change of time
and circumstances may have so buffeted
us about the great world, that we feel
too cosmopolitan ; and in an easy adap-
tation to all places, and to all sorts of
men, we lose that home feeling which
makes some spot an individuality as
it were, which nothing else shall be like.
Perhaps there are many who, with a
philosophic reach above common
feeling, hold aloof from the domes-
ticity of society, and with a self-in-
flicted Pariahism, if we may be allowed
the expression, will not be of a home
homely ; but these are the eccentrici-
ties of human nature. We speak of
and we speak to the masses, and to
them we say you have all homes, or
you all had homes.
All men, then, have lost a home, are
trying to make a home, or are striv-
ing to keep one that they have. Every-
body has his or her ideal of some-
where, of some place of rest, of
complete satisfaction, where the roar
and the din of the great world may not
enter, or if heard at all, would be es-
teemed for its contrast to the serenity
within a home, in fact, for without
serenity there is no home. We used
to think in our very young days, that
the highest title that man could give
to man was his most Serene Highness ;
and we now think that a man who is
happy in his home, at his own fireside,
with the partner of his heart smiling
gently upon him, and his little children
looking like shining content (as some
author has it), is to all intents and
purposes a Serene Hiyhness. If such a
one be not, why then, as Othello says r
'' chaos has come again."
Let us look at that busy merchant
upon the mart of nations fire in his
eye, keen calculation in every muscle
of his face, his brow tinted with some-
thing of the colour of the yellow ore
he struggles and pants for. He has his
moments when with moistened eyes
and faint sighs, he thinks of his child-
hood's home, of his father's fireside ;
and when there will rise up before
him the dim spectral baud of past com-
panions, of past affections his mo-
ther's tender glance, his father's coun-
sel, the playful tenderness of a sister's
love; and in comparison with that
lost home, not lost through fault or
folly of his, but swallowed up in the
vortex of time, he will for the mo-
ment think lightly of his bills, and
bonds, and balances, his usuries, and
his cash accounts , and his dream will
be yet to make a home where there
shall be smiles and peace.
For what is it that yonder pale stu-
dent consumes the nightly oil ? Is it
for fame? The empty applause of
those whom in his heart of hearts he
holds but cheaply? Ah, no he is striv-
ing for a home. He pictures to him-
self the vine-clad porch of some simple
cottage, and himself upon the threshold,
with the hand of her whom he loves
in his, and all the world beyond them
banished from their contemplation.
These men, then, are striving to make
a home. They may never reach the
goal of their ambition. They may,
when the harbour of refuge is within
their sight, sink fainting by the way ;
or they may find that habit is as strong
as this first aspiration after a home,
and they go on then striving until the
grave closes the account, and gives
them a quiet home indeed. But still
they have happiness in the pur.suit, if
to them it were but an ignis fatuus
which they never much cared to reach.
Some are battling to regain a lost
home. They have had the blessing,
and treated it like a bauble, until it
slipped from them, only then showing
itself to them, as the shadows of ad-
verse circumstances roll between them
CANDLES.
277
and it, what a jewel they have lost;
and home is something akin to love,
in the respect that, once lost, it is not
easily recovered again. But such per-
sons will commence their pursuits, and
through the crowds of humanity, as
though feasibly looking for some re-
membered but lost face, they will search
for another home like unto the one that
has left them.
Home is the revivifying spell that
braces many a heart to do its duty. The
mariner, on the wide ocean, as he clings
to the frail spar that is alone between
him and eternity, thinks of his home,
and his grasp tightens, for he feels that
the spirit of that holy word has given
him strength. The soldier, upon the
scorching plains of India, dreams of a
home at last in his native land ; and as
the watch fire pales at his feet, he smiles
as the vision of his native village rises
before his mind's eye. The veriest
vagrant that begs from door to door has
his home, if it be but some deserted
hovel into which to crawl at night,
when the blasting wind is high and
mighty. The home-spell is around and
about us all. Give the raggedest urchin
you can find in the great city an alms of
unwonted amount, and ten to one but
he shuffles home with it. The profane
and vulgar are accustomed, when they
wish that any rude blusterer, upon a
public occasion, should be quiet, to ad-
vise him to go " home." Even they
know that home is the kingdom of the
heart ; and in the thatched cottage,
through which the hollow wind whistles,
as well as in the gorgeous palatial pile,
redolent of warmth and perfumes, the
home-spell lingers, and there is no place
like it.
A happy home ! Oh, what a spell
there is in the words ! Can human am-
bition point to a higher hope than that,
unless it abandons this great sphere and
fixes its gaze upon immortality ? And
after all, what is immortality, and the
God-like hope of Christianity, but a
happy home for ever? Is there any-
thing in the wide world so gracious to
heart as the home fire-side? Home-
voices, their sights and sounds ? Home
tears ever have in them a redeeming joy
that makes them all but celestial
The man who, with humble means
and quiet wishes, the man with a mind
attuned to the harmonies, and to the
beauties of nature, who has a home*
where envy and unthankful ness find no
place, where dear domestic love and
gentleness are the presiding angels, ia
indeed a Serene Highness; and long
may he continue so, and may our happy
country be ever celebrated as the land
of Home and Hearts.
CANDLES.
THE manufacture and introduc-
tion of candles amongst the domes-
tic conveniencies of life have been in
a manner no less productive of refine-
ment in the taste and habits of commu-
nities than were those of soap and
glass ; and although the time at which
they were first used is not exactly
known, yet their consumption has been
daily extending more and more, parti-
cularly of late years, notwithstanding
the many and refined means devised by
the inquiring spirit of the time to illu-
mine the hamlet as well as the metro-
polis, the dwelling of the humble me-
chanic as well as the court of the
monarch.
From the remotest period substitutes
have been found for supplying by art
the place of the great luminary of day
during the intervals of his absence ; it
appears, however, that not candles, but
lamps, were generally used, in which
oil was contained in the way that sug-
gested itself as most convenient. In
Holy Writ many references are made to
candles and candle- sticks; and con-
formably to the idea now attached to
these terms, a person might suppose
that the manufacture was no novelty in
those remote ages ; but, upon further
consulting the same sacred record, it
will be observed that these terms were
used either in a metaphorical sense, or
otherwise the translators have been at
fault in rendering 'the meaning of a
word in the Oriental tongue by one
which does not express the same in
modern languages ; for, that the candle-
sticks were intended to support lamps,
not candles, is plain from he instruc-
278
THE STEREOSCOrE AND THE DAGUERREOTYPE.
tions Moses received from the Ai. ;
for making the golden candlestick:
"Andthou shalt mak> lamps
thereof, and they shall light the lamps
thereof, that they may give light over
against it." Further testimonies, show-
ing that oHve oil was employed for
those lamps, may be found in the book
of Leviticus, from which, as well as
from the foregoing, it is plain that
candles were not in use among the
ancient Jews. The authors of Greece
and Rome were equally ignorant of the
candle, and although Pliny and other
writers mention it, yet the only infor-
mation to be gathered from them is,
that their candle consisted of strings of
flax, imbued or covered over with pitch
or wax.
THE STEREOSCOPE AND THE
DAGUERREOTYPE.
As far back as 1838, Professor Wheat-
stone announced a remarkable discovery
in binocular vision (sight with two
eyes), which had the effect of deceiving
the senses so completely, that mere
drawings, seen under peculiar circum-
stances, were converted into solid and
projecting bodies. Since then the in-
genious discovery has been modified,
and much improved by Sir David Brew-
ster. This, however, had not the effect
of bringing the wonders of the discovery
prominently before public notice ; and
it was not until it had received the
publicity of the Exhibition, and the
assistance of a talented photographer in
adapting his art to the discovery, that
the nature and value of the stereoscope
became at all understood, at least, be-
yond the circle of a few scientific socie-
ties. No language can convey an
adequate idea of the wonderful disco-
very. It may be observed, however,
that the stereoscope somewhat resem-
bles, in appearance, a double opera-
glass. Two pictures of a person or
group of persons taken at slightly
different angles (so as to correspond as
near as possible with the different angles
of the eyes), are required to produce
the illusion of solidity. The two upper
glasses of the Stereoscope, which we
place to the eyes, form a sort of squint
anl it is well kuowu that under such
ices, two objects are seen a&
thivr, l.y ilu- same, rule that one is seen
as two. So with the stereoscope; the
two pictures of the one object are con-
verted into three; only one, however,
is seen, and that (by the reflected images
of the two falling at the same time upon
either eye) as a perfect solid projecting
body, or series of distinct bodies, ac-
cording to the subject introduced in the
picture. Imagine a family group of five
or six persons so represented, each one,
to the sight, is separated from the other
with a perfect roundness and fulness of
nature. Length, breadth, thickness, and
distance from each other are each dis-
tinctly visible; and if the group be
taken from the middle of the room, so-
is it found through the stereoscope,
each figure standing alone, forward and
detached from the wall or groundwork
of the picture. The space behind is
clearly seen, and if one of the persons
represented be holding forward a book
or other article, it is not seen flat as in
a picture, but round and forward as in
a model, so that the eye can easily mark
the distance of the body from the book,
and vice versa. To produce this asto-
nishing illusion through the stereo-
scope, it is necessary that the utmost
accuracy and delicacy of touch should
be observed in the two pictures to be
viewed. They must be taken also at
the exact angles, so that their reflected
images may fall on either eye, conse-
quently daguerreotype pictures are pe-
culiarly adapted for the instrument.
Daguerreotype pictures are necessarily
exact in eveiy respect ; being a work of
nature itcannot possibly err; and hence
it is that the astonishing discoveries of
Wheatstone and Brewster remained in
comparative abeyance until M. Claudet
came forward and applied his beautiful
productions to the instrument. Let
any family at the present time sit for
stereoscopic Daguerreotype pictures in
a group or singly (for the discovery is
now being extensively applied to por-
traiture), and their great great Gl
grandson's children may as easily see
them in youth, life, expression, and
almost movement, a* their own imme-
diate circle of acquaintancer.
EGGS.
279
EGGS.
WE hear a great deal of talk about the
money which is sometimes paid for
eggs of choice kinds of poultry for the
purpose of incubation, and intend very
soon to join the hue and cry, and talk
about it too ; but when we consider the
ease with which productive fowls might
be procured and kept, the price often
given for new-laid eggs, for eating and
domestic purposes, is a matter much
more astonishing. The attention of
farmers has lately been repeatedly
called to this subject, and some few are
giving it the notice which it so much
merits'. Poultry is a kind of stock
which fits in readily with other animals,
consumes produce which would other-
wise be wasted, requires little space,
and yields a return during life, as well
as when killed for the market. The
kind of fowl best adapted to the pur-
poses of those who wish to supply the
markets is a much disputed question ;
but without losing a season in length-
ened deliberation, it is easy temporarily
to fix on the kind which appears best,
and, while realising from them, experi-
ments on other kinds may be carried on
at small expense and trouble. The
Spanish fowl lays an egg more magnifi-
cent in size than that of any other kind
of fowl ; these eggs have been known to
weigh as much as four ounces, while
thoae which usually supply our mar-
kets are from two to two and a half. It
may be worthy the consideration of
those who collect eggs for the market,
whether eggs sell better for exceeding
the usual size, and worthy the conside-
ration of the housekeeper whether such
eggs are better for domestic purposes.
It has been affirmed by one of our best
judges, that there is so much less rich-
ness in the Spanish fowl's egg than in
that of the Cochin-China, that two eggs
of the last would make as good a cus-
tard as three of the first. There is
great difference of opinion about the
laying properties of the Spanish fowls ;
some persons find them excellent layers,
while many complain that, although
their eggs are very large, the number
which they lay is very small. The
Spanish fowl's egg is thick in form,
and the shell is white. The Dork-
ing also lays a fine large egg;
but her character as a layer varies
greatly in different localities; these
fowls, like the Spanish, are some-
times complained of as indifferent
layers, and sometimes praised for
being very good in that particular.
The eggs are white and good in flavour.
The Cochin-China fowls lay a great
number of eggs, and have one good
quality which would tell well in the
hands of persons anxious to have a
regular supply for the markets; they
do not, like most kind of fowls, leave
us without eggs for months together
during the winter, but the supply from
them is almost as good then as at other
seasons of the year ; winter is a time
when eggs will always realise a good
price. The Cochin-China eggs are of
medium size, being larger than those of
the game fowl, and smaller than the
Spanish, about as large as those which
usually supply the markets. Those
Cochin-China hens which may be con-
sidered the best layers will resort to
the nest and deposit an egg daily, with
uninterrupted regularity for many
weeks together. These best layers are
distinguished from those which are sub-
ject to the freak of nature ofl ayiug two
eggs in one day, for which unusual
activity the owners often have no rea-
son to be grateful. There are few per-
sons who keep Cochin-China fowls who
do not meet with instances of this un-
natural fecundity, but it is generally at
the expense either of regularity in the
supply of a perfected eggshell or of
fertility in the egg. Soft eggs are often
dropped without interrupting the daily
laying. The Cochin-China eggs are
particularly delicate and fine in flavour.
The shell is more deeply tinted than
that of any other kind of fowl, being
variously tinged with shades of buff and
chocolate, and sometimes tettered over
with chalky-looking specks, which give
it a peculiarly delicate, pearl-like ap-
pearance. The chocolate tint is more
admired than the yellow. As this
colouring in the eggshell is peculiar to
the breed, a depth of shade is valued by
THE TOMATO.
connoisseurs; but it is not imperative,
for perfectly true bred fowls, imported
fowls as well as those which have been
bred here, will sometimes lay eggs
not very much more coloured than
those of the game fowl, and even
the same hen will lay eggs of
different shades. In beauty of form
and plumage there are few fowls which
excel the game fowl; their quarrel-
some disposition, however (although
exaggerated by some authors), exists in
a sufficient degree to render keeping a
number together troublesome and even
dangerous to themselves. In produc-
ing fowls for the table these would be
less profitable than larger sorts, as giv-
ing less weight of meat, but the
chickens are very delicious in flavour,
as are also the eggs. The egg is rather
small, with a tinted shell. The families
which now go under the name of
Hamburghs are considered good layers.
These are the fowls among which the
decision of the farmer is most likely to
hesitate; but whatever breed may be
fixed on let it be kept pure, and with
cleanliness and abiwdant feeding, per-
haps there is no kind which would not
make an ample return. Although, per-
haps, no fowls match the Cochin-China
in the number of eggs which they lay,
most are pretty good layers if well cared
for, and abundantly fed. Where food
has to be purchased, and a large sup-
ply of eggs is desired, it is the best
economy to buy the best corn and meal,
and to give the fowls as much as they
can eat. When the owner possesses
refuse corn for which he can find no
ready market, the case is different, and
a little waste does not matter, as it
would do if the food were paid for.
THE TOMATO.
To many persons there is something
unpleasant, not to say disgusting, in the
flavour of this excellent fruit. It has,
however, long been used for culinary
purposes in various countries of Eu-
rope. Dr. Bennett, a professor of some
celebrity, considers it an invaluable
article of diet, and ascribes to it very
important medicinal properties. He
declares : 1. That the tomato is one of
the most powerful deobstruents of the
Mate-rid Medico,; and that, in all those
affections of the liver and other organs
where calomel is indicated, it is pro-
bably the most effective and least
harmful remedial agent known in the
profession. 2. That a chemical extract
will be obtained from it, which will al-
together supersede the use of calomel
in the cure of diseases. 3. That he has
successfully treated diarrhoea with this
article alone. 4. That when used as an
article of diet, it is almost a sovereign
remedy for dyspepsia and indigestion.
5. That persons in ordinary should
make use of it, either raw, cooked, or
in the form of a catsup, with their daily
food, as it is the most healthy article
in the materia alimentaria. Professor
Rafinesque, of France, says : " It is
everywhere deemed a very healing ve-
getable, and invaluable article of food."
Dungleson says : " It may be looked
upon as one of the most wholesome and
valuable esculents that belong to the
vegetable kingdom." Professor Dickens
asserts that it may be considered more
wholesome than any other acrid sauce.
A writer in the Farmer's Register says :
" It has been tried by several persons
with decided success. They were af-
flicted with a chronic cough, the pri-
mary cause of which, in one case, was
supposed to be diseased liver in ano-
ther, diseased lungs. It mitigates, and
sometimes effectually checks, a fit of
coughing. The method most commonly
adopted in preparing this fruit for daily
use, is to cut them in slices, and serve
with salt, pepper, and vinegar, as you
do cucumbei-s. To stew them : remove
them ripe from the vines, slice up, and
put them in a pot over the stove or fire
without water. Stew them slowly, and
when done, put in a small piece of
good butter, and eat them as you do
apple-sauce. Some add a little flour,
and bread finely crumbled."
REMARKS ON POULTRY.
FEEDING. This subject is not generally
so well attended to as it deserves ; it is
true, where fowls have a good run they
ACTION AND REACTION IN FARMING.
281
can provide themselves with many a
dainty morsel, and will do well with one
good feed of corn per day ; but it is
not always that persons keeping fowls
can accommodate them thus extensive-
ly, and it is therefore necessary to pro-
vide what they require by artificial
means. Most fanciers are aware that
fowls require other things besides sound
corn for their welfare, such as green
and animal food, calcareous matter, and
grit ; and I consider it absolutely ne-
cessary for them to be supplied with
these, more particularly while laying
and moulting. The green food may
consist of grass, lettuces, chicory, cab-
bage, &c. The animal food is naturally
snails, beetles, grubs, worms, maggots,
&c. ; and, when a supply of these fail,
then butchers' offal, tallow-chandlers'
greaves, or any refuse meat, will be
found very advantageous. In winter,
an allowance of fat will be found bene-
ficial, as, by the internal combustion of
the carbon, of which fat is principally
composed, the animal heat will be sus-
tained, and, consequently, laying will
be promoted. Calcareous matter enters
largely into the formation of bones and
egg-shells. Chalk, in small pieces, is
recommended; but I do not find the
fowls very fond of eating it ; naturally
they eat the shells of snails, and other
small land shells, which, with the hard
coverings of beetles and other insects,
contribute largely to the production of
egg-shells. Egg-shells, thrown from the
house, are greedily eaten. The best
substitute I have found to consist of
bone powder, a small quantity of which
may be given daily in their food ; and
this I have found to cure some of my
high-bred hens of laying soft eggs, when
a regular cramming with chalk did not
succeed. Hempseed, linseed, and sun-
flower-seed, are very nutritious, and
conducive of laying. For rearing young
chickens. I have found milk-curds
(where easily obtained), mixed with
ground oats, to be the best food ; where
not obtainable, I use ground oats, mixed
with water, with a small quantity of
bone-powder added ; or rice, parboiled
and rolled in ground oats or barley-meal,
so as to separate the grains. And a
piece of bullock's liver, boiled hard and
grated, is also an excellent occasional
treat for the little chic' ens. Ducks are
famous trenchermen, and require to be
filled. I have found stinging-nettles,
chopped and moistened with pot- liquor
or wash, and mixed with a small quan-
tity of pollard or meal, to be a cheap
food, and, with an occasional feed of
corn, they thrive well on it.
ACTION AND RE ACTION IN
FARMING.
FENCES operate in two ways, if good,
they are a defence ; if poor, an offence.
Many a farmer, by too sparingly seed-
ing his new meadows, has had to cede
his whole farm.
Eveiy farmer should see daily every
animal he has, and inspect its condition.
Weekly visits, as with some, soon re-
sult in weakly animals.
The man who provides well sheltered
cotei for his sheep in winter, will soon
find plenty of coats for his own back.
A good housewife should not be a
person of "one idea," but should be
equally familiar with flower-garden and
flour-barrel ; and though her lesson
should be to lessen expense, yet the
scent of a fine rose should not be less
valued than the cash in the till. If
her husband is a skilful sower of grain,
she is equally skilful as a sewer of gar-
ments ; he keeps his hoes bright by
use, she keeps the hose of the whole
family hi order.
ON THE CHOICE OF SPECTACLES.
SPECTACLES are usually manufactured
of an oval form and small size to render
them more elegant ; but, as regards
their utility, it is infinitely preferable
that they should be large and round,
covering not only the globe of the eye,
but also a part of its vicinity. This is
especially necessary for coloured glasses
employed to mitigate the impression of
light, in the cases of photophobia, and
congestion and chronic inflammation of
the internal membranes. The border of
such glasses should extend to the mar-
gin of the orbit ; otherwise the light,
OX THE CHOICE OF SPECTACLES.
especially that which is reflected from
the ground, will strike upon the cir-
cumference of the globe, the centre
only being protected by the darkened
glass ; and the impression thus produced
is doubly injurious on account of the
contrast.
Something similar is true of lenses
when they are oval and too small ; re-
fraction takes place only for objects
placed in front of the eye, whilst those
placed above, below, or laterally, es-
pecially during the movements of the
organ, present their natural image. A
very disagreeable confusion and in-
equality of vision, and sometimes
diplopia, results from this. These
effects are more marked when the
glasses are bi-convex or bi-concave ; for
then their diminished curvature at the
circumference causes vision to be less
clear than in looking through the centre.
To obviate this inconvenience, peri-
scopic glasses, that is to say, in the
meniscus form, may be advantageously
employed, convex-concave for the
presbytic (with predominance of con-
vexity) and concave convex for the my-
opic (with predominance of concavity).
As to the glasses of cylindrical surface,
I have not yet been able to form
a conclusive opinion in regard to
them. In general it has appeared to me
that they have no appreciable advan-
tages, and that if they are to be used,
they should be chosen of a number a
little more feeble than other glasses.
The framework of spectacles should
be light and of proper dimensions. If
it be too large and broad their immo-
bility is lost, and the eyes are fatigued
by the vacillation of the image ; if it be
too narrow and heavy the temples are
compressed, pain and a feeling of un-
easiness are produced in the parts near
the eye, and secondarily in this organ,
and the sight is thus affected. The
glasses should be neither too near nor
too far from each other; if this con-
sideration is not attended to, diplopiii
and other anomalies of vision may
result.
In wearing spectacles they should be
carefully placed parallel, and not ob-
liquely to the iris ; for the oblique
iin-i louce of ne rays impairs the clear-
ness of the image. If brought too near
the eye they hinder the movements of
the lids, or the transparence of the
glasses is destroyed by the contact of
the cilia, of tears, and of mucus.
Equal care should be observed not to
remove them too far, and place them
more or less low upon the nose, which
changes their mode of refraction, and
gives them a different power from that
which their number indicates. To
speak generally, they should be placed
as near the eyelids as may be without
causing them to come in contact with
the cilia. In this respect the confor-
mation of the nose, of the eyes, and the
edge of the orbit, may occasion difficul-
ties which should be vanquished by the
optician in giving to the frames the
particular form which the circumstances
require.
r Jears, transpiration, the vapour ex-
haled in the respiration, and that con-
tained in the air, are deposited more or
less upon the glasses of spectacles.
They should, therefore, be occasionally
taken off and carefully wiped with a
piece of fine linen, or, what is better,
fine wash-leather. When they are teid
aside, the surface of the glasses should
not be brought in contact with the
objects on which they are placed, fdr,
especially if convex, they are easily
scratched by the contact of dust, foreign
substances, and the inequalities of the
surfaces with which they are brought in
contact. They should be placed open,
on their border, or folded with the
branches placed underneath to protect
the glasses. The purity of the maternal
of the glasses and the polish of their
surfaces are essential.
When spectacles are necessary the
following rules will determine whether
you really require the aid of glasses.
When we are obliged to remove small
objects to a considerable distance from
the eye in order to see them distinctly.
If we find it necessary to get more light
than formerly, as, for instance, to place
the candle between the eye and the
object. If, on looking at, and atten-
tively considering a near object, it
fatigues the eye and becomes confused,
MINUTENESS OF OBJECTS.
283
or if it appears to have a kind of dim-
ness or mist before it. When small
printed letters are seen to run into each
other, and hence by looking stedfastly
on them, appear double or treble. If
the eyes are so fatigued by a little ex-
ercise, that we are obliged to shut them
from time to time, so as to relieve
them by looking at different objects.
When all these circumstances concur,
or any of them separately takes place,
it will be necessary to seek assistance
from glasses, which will ease the eyes,
and in some degree check their tendency
to become worse ; whereas, if they be
not assisted in time, the weakness will
be considerably increased, and the eyes
be impaired by the efforts they are
compelled to exert.
MINUTENESS OF OBJECTS.
WHILE pondering on the "world's
around world's stupendous rolling,"
among which our globe, vast as it is,
seems but an atom, we are astounded
by the immensity of the universe. No
less astonished must we be when, turn-
ing from the consideration of the mighty
whole, we contemplate the minute sub-
divisions of the material world. Though
it is not true that matter may be infi-
nitely subdivided, in the strict and ex-
tended sense of the word, yet it is de-
monstrable that it can be subdivided
beyond any fractional part which can
be indicated by figures. In other
words, although Nature has her limits,
they extend farther in minuteness, as
well as in vastness, than our powers of
conception can enable us to apprehend.
Without going farther than the case of
animalcula, as exhibited by the magni-
fying powers of the microscope, we can
ascertain that animalcula themselves,
so small as to be impalpable to the
naked eye, are preyed upon by others
as much smaller than they, as they are
to the vegetable or animal productions
on which they exist. A single grain of
blue vitriol will give a fine blue tinge to
six gallons of water ; and to a similar
quantity less than a grain of cochineal
will communicate a fine bright purple.
A single grain of ruuak will, for many
years, give a very perceptible odour to
a room in which it is placed. Yet the
air which it each instant perfumes is at
every instant making way for the un-
perfumed air of the external atmo-
sphere.
STATISTICS OF MUSCULAR
POWER.
MAN has the power of imitating almost
every motion but that of flight. To
effect these he has, in maturity and
health, 60 bones in his head, 60 in his
thighs and legs, 62 in his arms and
hands, and 67 in his trunk. He has
also 434 muscles. His heart makes 64
pulsations in a minute, and therefore
3,840 in an hour, and 92,160 in a day.
There are also three complete circula-
tions of his blood in the short space of
an hour. In respect to the comparative
speed of animated beings, and of im-
pelled bodies, it may be remarked that
size and construction seem to have little
influence, nor as comparative strength,
though one body giving any quantity of
motion to another is said to lose so
much of its own. The sloth is by no
means a small animal, and yet it can
travel only fifty paces in a day ; a worm
crawls only five inches in 50 seconds ;
but a lady-bird can fly twenty million
times it own length in less than an hour.
An Elk can run a mile and a half in
7 minutes ; an antelope, a mile in a mi-
nute ; the wild mule of Tartary has a
speed even greater than that; an eagle
can fly 18 leagues in an hour; and a
canary falcon can even reach 250 leagues
in the short space of 16 hours. A vio-
lent wind travels 60 miles an hour;
sound 1,142 English feet in a second.
VEGETABLE GARDEN CLOCKS
AND BAROMETERS.
FORTUNATELY, at the present day, clocks
and watches are so plentiful that but
very few persons would like to regulate
their time by the flowers of the field.
It is, however, interesting to notice the
various influences and effects of the
weather in relation to plants as well as
animals, and there can be no doubt
MULLED WINE,
whatever that much may be learned by
stu< lying their action: As there are
but ten of the equinoctial plants which
open at stated hours, the two first on
the following list are taken from those
which shut at a, given hour :
O'clock. English Names. Scientific Names.
1. Proliferous pink ...Dianthus prolifer.
2. Marsh sow thistle... Sonchus palustris.
3. Yellow goafs-beard Trogapogon pratense.
4. Yellow devil's-bit. .Leontodonautumnale
5. Common sow-thistleSonchus oleraceus.
f Spotted hawk weed Hypochoeris macula ta
' | Narrow leafed do.Hieraciumumbellatum
7. Broad-leafed do. ... Hieracium sabaudum.
8. Narrow -leafed do... Hieracium auricula.
. ( Smooth-leafed do. Hypochoeris glabra.
[ Caroline Mallow . Malva Caroliniana.
1 0. Garden lettuce Lactuca sativa.
11. Alpine bastard -
hawkweed Crepis Alpina.
12. Blue-flowered Al-
pine Sonchus Alpinus.
To this curious time-piece a couple of
vegetable barometers may be added,
which act upon similar principles, and
are, likewise, sufficiently accurate for
the gardener and farmer. The first
barometer is the African marigold, or
Calendula pluvialis. If the African
marigold does not open its flowers in
the morning about seven o'clock you
are sure to have rain that day, except it
is to be accompanied with thunder.
The second barometer is the Siberian
sow-thistle, or Sonchus Sibericus. If
the flowers of the Siberian thistle keep
open all night, you are sure of rain next
day.
MULLED WINE. Add to one quart
of wine one pint of water and one
tablespoonful of allspice; boil them
together a few minutes ; beat up six
eggs with sugar to your taste ; pour the
boiling wine on the eggs, stirring it all
the time. Be careful not to pour the
eggs into the wine, or they will curdle.
MULLED WINE (IN VERSE).
First, my dear madam, you must take
Nine egg, which carefully you'll break ;
Into a bowl you'll drop the white,
The yolks into another by it
Like Betsy, beat the whites with switch
Till they appear quite froth'd and rich
Another hand the yolks must beat
With sugar, which will make them sweet;
Three or four spoonsfuls maybe '11 do,
Though some, perhaps, would talce but two.
Into a skillet next you'll pour
A bottle of good wine, or more ;
Put half a pint of water, too,
Or it may prove too strong for you :
And while the eggs by two are beating,
The wine and water may be heating ;
But when it comes to boiling heat,
The yolks and whites together beat
"With half a pint of water more,
Mixing them well, then gently pour
Into the skillet with the wine,
And stir it briskly all the time.
Then pour it off into a pitcher,
Grate nutmeg in to make it richer.
Then drink it hot, for he 's a fool
Who lets such precious liquid cool.
Six REASONS FOR PLANTING AN
ORCHARD. 1. Would you leave an
inheritance to your children? Plant
an orchard. No other investment of
money and labour will, in the long run,
pay so well. 2. Would you make
home pleasant the abode of the social
virtues? Plant an orchard. Nothing
better promotes, among neighbours, a
feeling of kindness and good-will than
a treat of good fruit, often repeated.
3. Would you remove from your
children the strongest temptations to
steal ? Plant an orchard. If children
cannot obtain fruit at home, they
are very apt to steal it ; and when
they have learned to steal fruit, they
are in a fair way to learn to steal
horses. 4. Would you cultivate a con-
stant feeling of thankfulness towards
the great giver of all good ? Plant an
orchard. By having constantly before
you one of the greatest blessings given
to man, you must be hardened indeed
if you are not influenced by a spirit of
humility and thankfulness. 5. Would
you have your children love their
home, respect their parents while liv-
ing, and venerate their memory when
dead in all their wanderings look back
upon the home of their youth as a
sacred spot an oasis in the great wil-
derness of the world ? Then plant an
orchard. 6. In short, if you wish to
avail yourself of the blessings of a
bountiful Providence, which are within
PREPARATION OF LIQUID GLUE.
your reach, you must plant an orchard.
And when you do it, see that you plant
good fruit. The best are the cheapest.
PREPARATION OF LIQUID GLUE. All
chemists are aware that when a solution
of glue (gelatine) is heated and cooled
several tunes in contact with the air, it
loses the property of forming a jelly.
M. Gmelin observed, that a solution of
isinglass, enclosed in a sealed glass tube
and kept in a state of ebullition on the
water-bath for several days, presented
the same phenomenon, that is to say,
the glue remained fluid and did not
form a jelly. The change thus pro-
duced is one of the problems most
difficult of solution in organic che-
mistry. It may be supposed, however,
that, in the alteration which the glue
undergoes, the oxygen of the air or of
the water plays a principal part ; what
leads me to think this is the effect pro-
duced upon glue by a small quantity of
nitric acid. It is well known that by-
treating gelatine with an excess of this
acid it is converted by heat into malic
and oxalic acids, fatty matter, tannin,
&c. But it is not thus when this glue
is treated with its weight of water and
with a small quantity of nitric acid ; by
this means a glue is obtained which
preserves nearly all its primitive quali-
ties, but which has no longer the power
of forming a jelly. Upon this process,
which I communicated, is founded the
Parisian manufacture of the glue which
is sold hi France under the title of
" Colle Liquide et Inalterable" This
glue being very convenient for cabinet-
makers, joiners, pasteboard-workers,
toy-makers, and others, as it is applied
cold, I think it my duty, in order to
increase its manufacture, to publish the
process. It consists in taking one kilo-
gramme of glue, and dissolving it in
one litre of water, in a glazed pot over
a gentle fire, or, what is better, in the
water-batb, stirring it from time to
time. When all the glue is melted,
200 grm. of nitric acid (spec. grav. 1/32)
are to be poured in, in small quantities
at a time. This addition produces an
effervescence, owing to the disengage-
ment of hyponitrous acid. When all
the acid is added, the vessel is to be
taken from the fire, and left to cool. I
have kept the glue, thus prepared, in
an open vessel during more than two
years, without its undergoing any
change. It is very convenient in che-
mical operations; I use it with advantage
in my laboratory for the preservation
of various gases, by covering strips of
linen with it.Gomptes Rendus (1852),
Chemical Gazette.
FATTENING or PIGS. By direct ex-
periment, it has been ascertained that
pigs fatten much better on cooked than
on raw food. This being the case, it is
only waste of time and materials, as
also loss of flesh, to attempt to fatten
pigs on raw food of whatever kind ; for
although some sorts of food fatten bet-
ter than others in the same state, yet
the same sort, when cooked, fattens
much faster and better than in a raw-
state. The question, therefore, simply
is, what is the best sort of food to cook
for the purpose of fattening pigs ? Roots
and grain of all kinds, when cooked,
will fatten pigs. Potatoes, turnips,
carrots, parsnips, mangold- wurtzel, as
roots ; and barley, oats, pease, beans,
rice, Indian-corn, as grain, will all fatten
them when prepared. Which, then, of
all these ingredients should be selected
as the most nourishing, and, at the same
time, most economical ? Carrots and
parsnips, amongst roots, are not easily
attainable in this country, and therefore
cannot be regarded as economical food ;
and as to the other sorts of roots, when
cooked, potatoes doubtless contain
more nourishment than turnips, even
in proportion to their former prices ;
for it was easy to obtain 10s. for a ton
of Swedish turnips, as 8s. for a boll of
forty stones of potatoes ; and yet pota-
toes contained solid matter in the pro-
portion of twenty-five to ten-and-a-half
as regards turnips. It is now, however,
questionable whether 'potatoes can be
depended on as a crop at such a price
as to fatten pigs on economically. But
mangold-wurtzel presents properties for
supporting animals which are worthy of
attention. It contains fifteen per cent,
of solid matter, potatoes having twenty-
286
LIFE OF VEGETABLES.
five per cent. ; but it contains a .
proportion of the protein compounds
those :. - which -supply the ma-
terials of muscle tha:i Thus
they contain respectively, when dried
at -ill* Rmr.:
Protein com- Otlier nutri-
pound. tire matter.
The dried potato 8 per cent. 82
yellow turnip 9^ 80
man.-wurtz. 15 J 75
So that the proportion of the protein
compounds in the inangold-wurtzel is
nearly tsvice as great as in the potato.
LIFE OF VEGETABLES. It has been
assumed that the principle of life in
vegetables is of the same nature as that
in animals. Dr. Marcet tested this
curious theory by means of chloroform.
He found that if a drop or two of pure
chloroform be placed on the point of
the common petiole of a leaf of the
sensitive plant, the petiole is soon seen
to droop, and directly afterwards the
leaflets collapse in succession, pair by
pair, beginning with those that are
situate at the extremity of each branch.
A minute or two afterwards, most of the
leaves near that on which the chloroform
is placed, and situate below it on the
same stem, droop one after the other,
and their leaflets collapse, although not
in so decided a manner as those of the
leaf to which the chloroform is applied.
How TO RUIN A SON. 1. Let him
have his own way. 2. Allow him free
use of money. 3. Suffer him to roam
where he pleases on the Sabbath. 4.
Give him full access to wicked com-
panions. 5. Call him to no account for
his evenings. 6. Furnish him with no
stated employment. Pursue any of
those ways, and you will experience
a most marvellous deliverance, or will
have to mourn over a debased an<l
ruined child. Thousands have realised
the sad result, and have gone son-owing
to the grave.
HATCHING NESTS. These I prefer on
the ground, and formed of damp turf,
lined with dry heath and linchen or
liver-wort, collected from trees, &c. Tip-
nest should be made so large that the
hen can just fill it, not very deep, and
irly flat inside at the bottom as
possible, so that the eggs may not lean
against each other, or they are very
liable to be broken, especially J>;.
hens turning them. A little Scotch
snuff is also a good thing to keep the
nest free from vermin. Why I recom-
mend ground nests, and rather damp,
is, that it is admitted that the hen that
steals a nest in a hedge or coppice
generally hatches all her eggs, and
brings home strong chickens ; whereas,
the one that sits at home, in a dry box
or basket, often spoils many of her
and her chickens are frequently weakly,
which I attribute to the great evapora-
tion that takes place from the egg
during incubation in such unnaturally
dry nests, which also renders the
chicken feverish and weakly. In sup-
port of which opinion, I can say, I have
hatched my best broods in nests thus
made and well moistened; and fre-
quently have not had one egg in a sitting
miss.
BREEDING. Never breed from rela-
tions ; always select strong, healthy
birds of the same variety ; do not think
by mixing the sorts to improve a
breed ; a cross may do well enough to
eat, but if a breed is crossed it is not to
be depended on afterwards, as they will
often run back for many generations.
The formation of a new variety will
take a very long time, and then mostly
ends in disappointment. Keep each
breed pure, and improve it by saving
the best specimens, and add good fresh
blood ot, as near as possible, the same.
I think the eggs of a hen may be de-
pended on during three weeks after her
removal from any male, and without
being put to another. Thus I found
the eggs of a hen that had been removed
from a game cock took after him till
the tenth day of separation ; and that
the eggs of another, that had not been
with a rooster, produced chickens aa
early as the fourth day after being put
to one. The hens in both cases vrere
. B. P. Brent, bessel's <:
Sevenoaks. From theCottaqe Gardener.
EARLY RISING.
287
EARLY RISING. I would have in-
scribed on the curtains of your bed,
and the walls of your chamber, " If you
do not rise early, you can make progress
in nothing. If you do not set apart your
hours of reading ; if you suffer yourself
or any one else to break in upon them,
your days will slip through your hands
unprofitable and frivolous, and unen-
joyed by yourself. Lord Chatham.
A HINT TO OYSTER-EATERS. When
too many oysters have been incau-
tiously eaten, and are felt lying cold and
heavy on the stomach, we have an
infallible and immediate remedy in hot
milk, of which half a pint may be drunk,
and it will quickly dissolve the oysters
into a bland, creamy jelly. Weak and
consumptive persons should always take
this after their meal of oysters. Dr.
USE THE MINUTES. Is it asked, says
Channing, how can the labouring man
find time for self- culture ? I answer
that an earnest purpose finds time, or
makes time. It seizes on spare moments,
and turns fragments to golden account.
A man who follows his calling with
industry and spirit, and uses his earn-
ings economically, will always have some
portion of the day at command. And it
is astonishing how fruitful of improve-
ment a short season becomes, when
eagerly seized and faithfully used. It
has often been observed that those who
have the most time at their disposal
profit by it the least. A single hour in
the day, steadily given to the study of
some interesting subject, brings unex-
pected accumulations of knowledge.
KEEP THE HEART ALIVE. These
words of Bernard Barton are good.
Often good and wise men in other
things have rendered their old age cheer-
less and unlovely, from a want of atten-
tion to them : " The longer I live, the
more expedient I find it to endeavour
more and more to extend my sympa-
thies and affections. The natural ten-
dency of advancing years is to narrow
and contract these feelings. I do not
mean that I wish to form a new a/ad
sworn friendship every day, to increase
my circle of intimates ; these are very
different affairs. But I find that it
conduces to my mental health and hap-
piness, to find out all I can which is
amiable and loveable in those I come
in contact with, and to make the most
of it. It may fall very short of what I
was once wont to dream of; it may not
supply the place of what I have known,
felt, and tasted ; but it is better than
nothing ; it seems to keep the feelings
and affections in exercise ; it keeps the
heart alive in its humanity ; and till we
shall all be spiritual, this is alike our
duty and our interest."
CATS AND FELINE ANIMALS. Animals
of the cat kind are, in a state of nature,
almost continually in action both by
night and day. They either walk,
creep, or advance rapidly by prodigious
bounds ; but they seldom rwa, owing,
it is believed, to the extreme flexibility
of their limbs and vertebral column,
which cannot preserve the rigidity ne-
cessary to that species of movement.
Their sense of sight, especially during
twilight, is acute; their hearing very
perfect, and their perception of smell
less than in the dog tribe. Their most
obtuse sense is that of taste ; the lin-
gual nerve in the lion, according to Des
Moulins, being no larger than that of a
middle-sized dog. In fact, the tongue
of these animals is as much an organ of
mastication as of taste ; its sharp and
horny points, inclined backwards, being
used for tearing away the softer parts
of the animal substances on which they
prey.
HAVE NO SECRETS. Unreserved com-
munication is the lawful commerce of
conjugal affection, and all concealment
is contraband. It is a false compliment
to the object of our affection, if, for the
sake of sparing them a transient unea-
siness, we rob them of the comfort to
which they are entitled of mitigating our
suffering by partaking it. All dissimu-
lation is disloyalty to love ; besides, it
argues a lamentable ignorance of human
life, to set out with an expectation of
health without interruption, and happi-
ness without alloy. When young persons
marry with the fairest prospects, they
should never forget that infirmity is
bound up with their very nature, and
that in bearing one another's burdens,
they fulfil one of the highest duties of
the unk>n.
JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY ALL
ROUND OUR HOUSE.
THE TRAVELLERS RESUME THEIR JOUtt-
NEY, AFPER A LONG STOPPAGE, WHICH
HAS ENABLED THEM TO CONSIDER
AND IMPROVE THEIR PLANS.
WE are now about to resume our Jour-
ney of Discovery all Round our House,
and with the full determination to go
right on, and to complete the book of
our travels, without any further delay.
We have already considered the phy-
sical and physiological constitution of
the inhabitants of our house, and we
shall now have to forage about in every
direction to see what we can find, and
to ascertain what facts relate to the
history of every object which meets
our view.
And a very curious journey this will
be. For we shall not confine ourselves
to the examination of the mahogany
table, the alabastar ornament, the
papier maclii and pearl tray, and the
cut lustres which glisten upon the
mantle-piece. We must go into the
kitchen, get into the salt box, explore
the cruet-stand, call in at the coal hole,
forage about the fire-place, and even
make an excursion up the chimney.
For in every place some interesting facts
may be gleaned, and the gems of
knowledge that will be dug out
of some of these dark recesses will be
found even more gratifying to the mind
than the facts associated with objects
that are at first more pleasing to the
senses.
In order that we may be able to get
through such an extent of travel, and to
record our discoveries in a plain but
concise manner, we intend, in future
pages, to adopt the catechetical mode
of exposition, and put plain questions
and answers respecting all the objects
that coine under our notice.
But before we proceed to do this, let
us call . attention to a remarkable cir-
cumstance bearing upon a fact stated at
the outset of our journey.
It was there narrated that a party of
young people, and their mamma, with
the amiable Dr. Renford, went to see
the performances of the Wizard in
Covent Garden Theatre. It is now
very well known that the theatre was
sometime afterwards burnt down. The
Wi/ard gave a masquerade, and in the
very midst of the wild folly of the
scene, a fire broke out and now
Covent Garden Theatre is Where ?
If you go over the sire of the late
theatre at the present time (1S56), little
will be seen but charred pieces of wood
and blackened heaps of stone, in wild
confusion encumbering the ground.
But of this once splended edifice, with
its magnificent proscenium, its vast-pit,
and wide range of successive tiers of
boxes, nothing else remains. What has
become of all the former " effects ?"
Why the theatre has taken wings, and
flown away. Speaking generally, fire
seized upon the splendid fabric, and in
a short time its elements were dissolved
and set free to form fresh combinations
in the great theatre of nature. These
elements being disengaged formed, in
the manner we will hereafter explain,
when exploring our fire-place, carbonic
acid gas and water.
Where has the carbonic acid gas
gone ?
It has been taken upon the wings of
the wind, and, in all probability, been
borne to every quarter of the globe. In
the dense forests of Central America
the monster tree has put forth its leaves
and fed upon the gas held in the air-
the tree has, in fact, made a meal upon
Covent Garden Theatre, and possibly
that piece of forest scenery which
served to raise a pleasing illusion before
the eyes of the audience in Macbeth,
or the Tempest, is now a piece of real
foliage waving its broad leaves in the
western breeze. And who knows but
that, in the course of nature, we have
drunk in our tea-cups some of the very
water produced by the combustion of
this great temple of the muses ? While,
i probably, in millions of instances, drops
' of that water lie in crevices and
hollows of the earth, forming new
: worlds that have already become in-
habited by the wonderful tribes of
animalcules who make their exits and
their entrances on their little stage, and
i live and die, within the globule of a
| drop of water no larger than a tear.
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
289
Now, as we have described the phy-
sical constitution of the inhabitants of
Our House, let us first examine the
elements in which those inhabitants
live, then we will inspect the inventions
which man's ingenuity has adopted to
render those elements more subservient
to him, and will also examine to some
extent those works of ingenuity and
art by which man surrounds himself
with luxuries that minister to his hap-
piness, though they cannot be said to
be essential to his existence.
We have described man's organisa-
tion. What is that organisation for ?
It is to make use of the elements upon
which man exists. The lungs make use
of the air ; the eye makes use of the
light; the stomach and the system
generally make use of water; every
part of the body uses heat; and all
parts of the system demand food. The
hand feeds as constantly as the mouth.
The mouth is the receptacle of food by
which the body is to be fed. The
stomach is the kitchen in which food is
prepared for the use of the body. When
we speak, therefore, of man's " organs "
or " members," we speak of those parts
of the living machinery by which the
elements are used up, or employed, for
man's benefit. And this view of the
subject, bearing in mind that the body
is held together as the temple of a
living spirit superior to mere flesh and
blood, gives us a higher and clearer
perception of the distinction between
the body and the soul than that which
we might otherwise possess. The body
is a machine working for the spirit,
which is its owner. While the machine
works, the spirit directs and influences
its actions. But when the machine
stops, the spirit having now no power
over a ruined temple, quits it, and flies
to a region where, as a spirit, it becomes
subject to a new order of existence
consistent with its severance from
earthly things and laws, and there it
enters upon its eternal destiny, subject
to the judgment and appointments of
God. Fur it is now no longer depen-
dent upon a relation between spiritual
and material laws, and now the death
No 10.
of an organic machine can now no
longer affect it.
Suppose that the air, in which man
lives, instead of being clear, so that it
were not perceptible to sight, were
tinged with a green colour, like the
waters of the sea. We should then see
that, every time a man breathed, the air
would rush in a stream into his mouth,
and then return again ; and the air
which returned would, by becoming
warm, be lighter than the outer air, and
would rise upward over the man's head,
where, cooling and mingling with the
outer air, it would descend again. We
do, in fact, see this action evidenced :
when in winter time the cold condenses
the vapour of the breath, we see the
little cloud constantly risnig before the
breather's face, and dispersing in the
surrounding air.
Now why does this air go in and out,
and up and down ? Because man lives
upon some of the elements of which the
air is composed.
Is it not a wonderful thing that that
clear and elastic substance, which you
cannot feel, though it touches every
part of your body, and which you can-
not see, is composed of two distinct
bodies, having very different properties ;
and that these two bodies can easily be
sepai'ated from each other?
Yes, this is indeed wonderful, and
far excels the magic of the wizard,
whom thousands of people flock to see.
and into whose coffers they willingly
pay thoxisands of pounds to have their
eyes cheated and then* senses deceived,
instead of finding pleasure iu the pur-
suit of truth, through experiments
upon the interesting works of nature.
The elements to which we have al-
luded, as forming the air we breathe,
are oxygen and nitrogen, mixed in the
proportions of four of nitrogen, aud one
of oxygen. The air also contains a small
quantity of carbonic acid gas, and
usually a little water in the lorui of
vapour.
When man breathes he takes the
oxygen from the air, and throws off the
nitrogen, and this oxygon combines
with the blood in the lungs, an-1 in that
combination produces heat, aud ahords
290
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
nourishment to the system. (-See the
account of the circulation, p. 131.)
Now, air is of the first importance to
life. Hence it is provided for us every-
where. We require air every second,
water every few hours, and food at
intervals considerably apart. Air is
therefore provided for us everywhere.
Whether we stand or sit ; whether we
dwell in a valley or upon a mountain ;
whether we go into the cellar under
our house, or into the garret at the top
of it, air is there provided for us, in
every nook and cranny. God who made
it a law that man should breathe to live,
also sent him air abundantly, that he
might comply with that law. And all
that is required from man in this res-
pect is, that he will not shut out God's
bounty, but receive it freely.
It is obvious enough that as man,
every time he breathes, takes oxygen
from the air, the air which he returns
from his lungs must be impure, not
only because of the amount of oxygen
taken from the air, but because of the
large proportion of carbonic acid gas,
given off from the body through the
lungs.
As we have employed the idea that if
the air were coloured we should have
the opportunity of marking the process
of breathing, let us enlarge upon this,
and suppose that every time the air
was returned from the lungs it became
of a darker colour, the darkness denot-
ing its impurity. If we placed a man in
a room full of pure air, we should see
the air enter his lungs, and sent back
slightly tinged, but this would disperse
itself with the other air of the room,
and scarcely be perceptible. As the
man continued to breathe, however,
each measure of air returning from the
lungs would serve to pollute that
abiding in the room, until at last the
whole mass would become cloudy and
discoloured, and we should see such a
change as occurs when water is turned
from a pure and clear state into a
muddy condition.
Thus we see how important it is that
we should provide ourselves with pure
air ; and that, in seeking warmth and
comfort in otir houses, we should al-
ways provide an adequate supply of
f rexh atmosphere seeing that it is more
vital to life than either water or food.
Indeed, so constant is our require-
ment of air, that if we had to fetch it,
for purposes of breathing, or simply to
raise it to our mouths, as tee do water,
ifhtn u-e drink, it would be the sole oc-
cupation of our lives we could do
nothing eke. For this reason, God has
sent the air to us, and not required us
to go to the air. And the great error
of man has been that he has, in too
many instances, shut off the supply
from himself, and brought on disease
and pain, by inhaling a poisonous com-
pound instead of air of this healthful
kind, which bears an exact adaptation
to the wants of life.
Whilst the rooms of our Iwmae are
filled with air, it is otherwise with
water, which we require in so much less
degree than air. If we have not the
artificial means by which water is
brought to our houses, through the
pipes of a water company, there is a
spring or a pump in the garden ; or in
the absence of this a good sound cask,
standing at the end of our house, and,
forming a receptacle to the water-pipes
that surround it, provides us with a
supply of water distilled from the
clouds.
If we were to drink a good draught
of water once a day, that would be suf-
ficient for all the purposes of life, as far
as regards the alimentary uses of water.
Man is therefore allowed to go to the
stream for his drink, and is required to
raise it to his lips at those moments
when he requires it.
Water is composed of two gases,
oxygen and hydrogen. But although, in
breathing, man separates the oxygen of
the air from the nitrogen thereof, he
does not separate the oxygen of the
water from the hydrogen. Water, in
fact, undergoes no change in the body,
excepting that of admixture with the
substances of the body. And its uses
are, to moisten, to cool, to cleanse, and
also to nourish the parts with which it
comes in contact. But it affords no
nourishment of itself. It mixes with
the blood, of which it forms a material
WHAT IS FIRE ?
91
part, and it is the means of conveying
the nourishment of the blood to every
part of the system. After it has filled
this office, and taken xip impurities
that required to be removed, it is cast
out of the system again without itself
undergoing any chemical change.
With regard to food, the next im-
portant element of life, we have given
an account (page 130) of the changes it
undergoes, and which are called diges-
tion.
And with reference to light and heat,
we shall find something interesting to
say of them when we come to speak of
them under their specific heads.
We have now seen the organisation of
man, and the relation in which he
stands to the elements by which he is
surrounded. The house in which man
dwells is the temple which he has set
up to facilitate his enjoyment of these
elements his happiness being derived
from the right use of the good things
with which God has surroxinded him.
And we shall presently see how skil-
fully he has contrived to make that
house a temple full of wonder, worthy
of examination, aud a home wherein,
with a mind rightly constituted, he and
his offspring might live supremely
happy.
He has dug deep into the bowels of
the earth, and brought up metals to
serve his purposes; he has brought
from the forest of far off lands trees
with wood of beautiful grain to form fur-
niture for his dwelling ; he has cut quar-
ries into the earth, and hewn out blocks
of stone and sheets of slate t'o form the
walls and the roof of his abode; he has
melted the hard flint-stone into trans-
parent glass to admit the light, but ex-
clude the cold ; he has made fire subdue
iron, and then has employed the iron
to controul the fire; he has dug into
the bowels of the earth and opened
vast stores of pre-adamite vegetation,
and with this he warms his dwelling
and prepares his food ; he makes the
same air which he breathes waft ships
across the sea, to bring to him in his
house the fruits and the treasures of
other lands ; if the winds speed not
quickly enough he calls fire and steam
to his aid, and with wheels, propelled
by these elements, allied to mechanical
power, the ship speeds onward in .^pito
of wind and tide ; he casts corn into
the earth, and when he has gathered
the ripened ear, he makes the wind or
the water grind it into flour, out of
which he makes his bread ; he has taken
the horn of the ox, the tusk of the
elephant, the skin of many quadrupeds,
the feathers of birds, the thread of the
silkworm, the wool of the sheep, and
worked and woven them into articles of
furniture or dress. So that in every
house may be seen the productions
of many lands, the offerings not only
of the surface, but of the bowels
of the earth, the tribute to man of
animals of all kinds and climates.
And so familiar has man become with
these privileges and enjoyments, so
easily do they flow into his possession,
that he scarcely knows the sources
whence they are derived, nor the dis-
coveries and the perils by which they
were first made available to him.
For these reasons we shall endeavour
to call back to man's recollection the
sources from which those things spring,
and the names of those benefactors of
mankind who, from generation to gene-
ration, have contributed to make " Our
House " so replete with blessings and
enjoyments, and so interesting a field
for a " Journey of Discovery."
WHAT IS FIRE ?
Child. Mother, you told me, the other
day, that nobody knows what light is,
except the great Creator. Now, can
you tell me what fire is ?
Mother. I fear that you have asked
another question which I cannot directly
answer. What fire is, is known only
by its effects.
Child. And what are its effects, mo-
ther ?
Mother. Some of its effects are as
well known to you as they are to me ;
and I shall, in the first place, call to
your recollection what you, yourself,
know about fire, before I attempt to
2-9-:
WHAT IS FIRE?
>>u any further information in re-
lation to it.
Wild. Why, mother, I am sure I do
not know what fire is.
Xo, my dear, I know that
you do not know what fire is ; neither
do I, nor does any one, except the
great Creator himself. This is one of
his secrets, which, in his wisdom, he
. es for himself. But you certainly
know some of the effects of fire. For
instance, you know that when you
have been out into the cold, you wish,
on your return, to go to the fire. Now,
can you tell me what you go to the fire
for?
Child. Why, certainly, mother ; I go
to the fire to warm myself.
Mother. And how does the fire warm
you?
Child. Why, it sends out its heat,
mother ; and I hold out my hands to
it, and feel the heat.
Mother. And where does the heat
come from ?
Child. Why, the heat comes from the
fire, mother.
Mother. Then you know, at least, one
of the effects of fire. It produces, or
rather sends out heat.
Child. But does not the fire make
the heat ?
Mother. If you had a little bird, or
a mouse, in a cage, and should open the
door and let it out, should you say
that you made the little bird or the
mouse ?
Child. Say that I made them, mo-
ther? Why, no; certainly not. I only
let them go free. God made them.
You told me that God made all
things.
Mother. Neither did the fire make
the heat. It only made it free, some-
what in the same manner that you
would make the bird or the mouse
free, by opening the door of the cage.
Ch'dd. Why, mother, is heat kept in
cages, like birds or mice?
Mother. No, my dear, not exactly in
cages, like birds and mice ; but a
great deal closer, in a different kind of
cage.
Child. Why, mother, what sort of a
cage can heat be kept in
Mother. I must answer your ques-
tion by asking you another. When
Alice makes her fire in the kitchen,
how does she make it ?
Child. She takes some wood, or some
coal, and puts under it some small
wood, and some shavings or paper, and
then takes a match and sets it on fire,
and very soon the fire is made.
Mother. But does she not first do
something to the match ?
Child. Oh, yes ; I forgot to say that
she lights the match first, and then sets
fire to the shavings with the lighted
match.
Mother. But how does she light the
match ?
Child. Why, mother, have you never
seen her? She rubs one end of the
match on the box, where there is a little
piece of sand-paper, and that sets the
match on fire.
Mother. Is there any fire in the sand-
paper ?
Child. Why, no, mother; certainly
not.
Mother. Was there any fire in the
match before she lighted it ?
Child. No, mother; if there had
been, she would have had no need to
light it.
Mother. You see, then, that fire
came when she rubbed the match
against the sand-paper, and that the
fire was not in the sand-paper, nor in
the match.
Child. Yea, mother ; but I did not see
where it came from.
Mother. Did you ever see a person
rub his hands together, when he was
cold?
Child. Oh, yes, mothev, a great many
times. I have seen father come in from
the cold and rub his hands together,
and afterwards hold them to the fire
and rub thera again, and then they get
warm.
Mother. And now take your hand
and rub it quickly backward and for-
ward, over that woollen table cloth, on
the table in the corner of the room, and
tell me whether that will make your
hand warm.
Child. Oh, yes, T feel it grow warmer
the faster I rub i>~.
WHAT IS FIRE?
Mother. Here are two small pieces of
wood. Touch them to your cheek, and
tell me whether they feel warm.
Child. They do not feel warm, nor
cold, mother.
Mother. Now rub them together
quickly a little while, and then touch
them to your cheek.
Child. Oh, dear, mother ! they are
so hot that they almost burned my
cheek.
Mother. Yes, my dear; and do you
not recollect, when you read "Robin-
son Crusoe," that his man Friday made
a fire by rubbing two pieces of wood
together?
Child. Oh, yes ; and I have often
wondered why Alice could not light
her fire and the lamp in the same man-
ner, without these matches, which have
so offensive a smell.
Mother. It is very hard work to ob-
tain fire by rubbing two pieces of wood
together ; and it would take too long a
time to do it. The two pieces of wood
would grow warm by a very little rub-
bing ; but in order to make them take
fire, they must be rubbed together a
great while.
Child. But, mother, if it takes so long
a time to get fire by rubbing two pieces
of wood together, why can Alice set the
match on five so easily by rubbing it
once on the sand-paper ?
Mother. That is what I am about to
explain to you. Here, take this piece
of paper and hold it up to the lamp.
Child. It has taken fire, mother.
Mother. Now take this piece of pine
wood, and hold that up to the lamp in
the same manner, and see whether that
will take fire too.
Child. Yes, mother, it has taken
fire ; but I had to hold it up to the
lamp much longer than I did the paper.
Mother. Now, take this piece of hard
wood, and do the same with that.
Child. The hard wood takes longer
still to catch fire, mother.
Mother. Yes. And now I am going
to make the hard wood take fire more
quickly than the paper did.
Cliild. How can you do it ?
Mother. I am going to show you.
Here is a small vial, which contuius
something that looks like water. It is
spirits of turpentine. I shall dip the
point of the piece of hard wood into the
vial, and take up a little of the spirits
of turpentine. Now touch the point
of the hard wood with the turpentine
on it to the flame.
Child. Why, mother, it caught fire
as soon as I touched the flame with it !
Mother. And you now see that some
things, like the spirits of turpeutine
and the paper, take fire very readily,,
and others take fire with more diffi-
culty.
Child. Yes, mother ; but when Alice
drew the match across the sand- paper,
there was no flame nor fire to touch it
to. How, then, could it take fire ?
Mother. Hold this piece of paper up
to the blaze of the lamp, but be careful
not to touch the fire or flame of the
lamp ; only hold it close to the blaze.
Child. Why, mother, it has taken
fire!
Mother. You see, then, that a thing
will sometimes take fire when it does
not touch the fire.
Child. Yes, mother ; but I do not
understand where the heat comes from.
Mother. The fire comes from the
heat. Now, you know that heat is
produced by rubbing two things to-
gether ; and that some things, like the
spirits of turpentine, take fire very
easily, or with very little lieat ; and
others, like the hard wood, require to
be heated some time; or, in other
words, require much heat to make
them take fire, or to burn. Some
things require only as much heat to
make them take fire as can be obtained
by rubbing them together very quickly,
like the wood which Robinson Crusoe's
man Friday used.
Child. But, mother, the match is
made of wood ; why does that take fire
so easily ?
Mother. It is true that the match is
made of wood ; but it has something
at the end of it which takes fire much
more easily than the spirits of turpen-
tine. Indeed, so easily does it take fire,
that it requires only so much heat to
set it on fire as is obtained by drawing
the match once across the sand-paper.
PROPERTIES OF AIR.
Clilhi. "\Voll, mother, I understand,
now, how the match is set on fire. It is
rul>ledon the sand-paper, and that pro-
duces heat, and the heat sets the match
on fire. But I always thought that
fire makes heat, not that heat makes
fire.
PROPERTIES OF AIR.
Henry. Good evening, uncle ; I
have come to ask you a few questions
about the air.
Sidney. I am glad to see you : but
where are the other children?
Henry. They are at home, learning
their lessons. I told them I would
come and ask a few questions about
the air, to-night, and that when I re-
turned would tell them what you said.
Sidney. You are so kind to your
brothers and sisters, Henry, I shall be
jpleased to tell you all you wish to
*kuow.
Henry. Well, uncle, you have told
us many interesting facts about winds,
which, you say, are caused by the air
becoming heated more in some places
than in others. Now, I should like to
know what air is ? (See p. 309.)
Sidney. The air is composed of two
gases oxygen and nitrogen. The oxy-
gen sustains life, and makes the candle
and lamp blaze and give light, and the
wood and coal burn, to give us heat.
Henry. What, then, is the use of
the nitrogen in the air when the
oxygen supports life and flame?
Sidney. The principal use of nitro-
gen is to dilute the oxygen, so that in
breathing we may not inhale too much
of it. If a man or an animal should
inhale pure oxygen, he would breathe
so fast as to soon wear himself out.
If a plant were placed in oxygen it
would soon burn up ; and if the air was
all nitrogen, neither plants nor animals
could live.
Did you ever hear of laughing-gas,
Henry ?
Henry. Yes ! our teacher told us
something about it ; and" said, that if
any person should inhale it, he would
laugh very heartily, and could not help
it. It must be very curious.
':>ey. It is so, but I will tell you
a curious fact about it. Laughing gas
is composed of about thirty-six and
one-third parts of oxygen, and sixty-
three and two-third parts of nitrogen.
The air we breathe contains twenty-
three parts of oxygen, and seventy-seven
parts of nitrogen.
Now if the air contained a few more
parts of oxygen, and a few less of
nitrogen, it would form laughing-gas.
Then, what laughing and grinning there
would be ! We should not see cross
boys nor pouting girls ; everybody
would be laughing.
But the air does contain enough of
these gases to give us happy, cheerful
countenances, and we should try to
possess such.
What wisdom is displayed in making
the air in which we live of such ingre-
dients as will impart to us cheerfulness
and pleasant feelings ! Truly we ought
to be happy !
Henry. 0, uncle, where can I learn
more about these things? they are
very interesting.
Sidney. The study of chemistry will
teach you about them, and a great many
more interesting and useful things in
nature.
Henry. Thank you, uncle ; I am so
glad I came to see you this evening.
But I must hasten home now, and tell
my brothers and sisters what I have
learned. Good night, uncle.
INCUBATION. I have kept an account
for some years of the time n,
birds sit, and the following is a li.st of
the time occupied in hatching their
eggs : Canary birds, 14 days ; doves,
14; pigeons, 16; fowls, 21 ; g.
fowls, 25; ducks, 26; turkeys, 26;
geese, 31 ; Muscovy ducks, 35. Al-
though ducks and turkeys hatch in 26
days each, I have found, when the eggs
were set together, that the turkey eggs
hatched about six hours earlier. I be-
lieve the above list to be quite correct;
but I have known most of them
occasionally to have been longer through
accidental causes.
SURNAMES.
296
SURNAMES.
EVERY man has a name : and every man,
if his attention should happen to be
turned in that direction, must feel some
curiosity to know of what that name is
significant, and how it originated. The
rude aboriginal inhabitants of this coun-
try, our Celtic ancestors, no doubt
distinguished each other by single
appellations, as they were, in all pro-
bability, not sufficiently numerous to
require more ; some few of these re-
main, even now, in parts of the.country
where remains of the Celtic language
may still be traced such as Cairn,
signifying a sepulchral hill ; Benn, a
promontory ; Gillies, a servant ; Braith-
waite, a steep inclosure ; Glynn, a val-
ley ; Linn, a mountain stream ; Callan,
aboy ; Doity, saucy, nice ; Douce, sober,
wise ; Doylt, stupid ; Eldritch, ghastly ;
Fell, keen, biting ; Pen, successful,
&c., &c.
The Romans, during their possession
of Britain, with the proud feelings of
conquerors, held themselves aloof from
the inhabitants of the country, and
consequently few of their names can be
traced amongst us. We now and then
meet with one, such as Felix, Marcus,
Julius, Carus, Caesar, and some few
others ; the last, Caesar, was, perhaps,
given in derision to some one possessed
of the opposite qualities to his great
namesake.
From the time when the Saxons were
invited over and settled in this country,
the subject of British surnames becomes
curious and interesting. These people,
who brought their names, language,
habits, and institutions with them,
obtained such complete possession of
the island, that, from the period of
their arrival, all records of the original
inhabitants vanish from the page of
history. Many of them were, no doubt,
extirpated, and others so completely
mixed up with the new occupiers of the
land, as to become no longer distinguish-
able as a people. In proof of this, many
of our surnames at the present time
have a British or Celtic termination
affixed to a Saxon name. Some few
Danish names in#y alao be traced.
particularly along our eastern coasts*
derived from the marauders of that
nation during their occasional settle-
ments in this country. It is astonishing
that, after the complete conquest of
the kingdom by the Normans in after
times, so few purely Norman surnames
should be found amongst us ; and the
universal prevalence of Saxon appella-
tions at the present day proves how
essentially the people remained the
same under the sway of their foreign
masters, and how little they assimilated
with them. Indeed, for a considerable
period it appears that the names, lan-
guage, and manners of the Normans
spread only among the higher classes of
society. Several celebrated linguists
have discovered a similarity between
the Saxon, Danish, and Norman lan-
guages ; the last having been, like the
two others, originally of a Teutonic
race, though assimilated, in later times,
to the French, from the proximity of
those who spoke it to their Gallic
neighbours. " Our present list of Eng-
lish surnames, therefore, is principally
Saxon or Teutonic, wrth some British,
partly in a simple and partly in a com-
pounded state, a few French and a few
foreign names, imported by occasional
settlers." By far the larger class of
English surnames at this day is derived
from the names of countries, towns; or
residences; indeed, the Saxons appear
to have deduced most of theirs from
this source ; as York, Cheshire, Worth,
Milton, Ireland, &c. Those of this kind
may be distinguished by their various
terminations ; and a little attention will
then demonstrate how very generally
they prevail amongst us.
First are those ending in ton, as
Norton, the north town ; Preston, the
sheriff town ; Langton, the long town,
&c. This is a family of a numerous
progeny, and members of it will recur
to the recollection of all of us. Those
ending in wick, meaning a town at the
mouth of a river, add sometimes only a
town, we must suppose to be of near
kin to the above, as Sandwich, the
town on the sand ; Hardwich, the strong
town; Nantwich, the town of the valjLey,
&c. Then follow those who derive
296
SURNAMES.
their names from villages, such as
Winthorpe, the village of furze ; Hill-
thorpe, the village of the hill ; and all
our other acquaintance terminating in
thorpc. Claiming brotherhood with
these are those, again, who write 7mm,
signifying a hamlet, as the last syllable
of their name ; such as Pelham, Mars-
ham, Graham, Farnham, with hundreds
of others.
Those names ending in wood, as
Hazlewood, the wood of hazels; Elm-
wood, the wood of elms, &c. ; and others
terminating in shaw, meaning a small
wood, as Fernshaw, the shaw of fern,
&c. ; with those taking durf, a thicket,
as their last syllable, as Woodruff,
Lendruff, &c., may be considered as
forming one family of this class.
All such whose names terminate in
ing, signifying a swampy bottom, may
here claim a place; as Deeping, the
deep ing ; Wilding, the uncultivated
ing, &c. ; also those ending in den, dale,
don, or dell, a small or deep valley, as
Warden, Dovedale, Horndon, &c.
Those ending in ley, lea, or ly, a pasture,
may next come forward and boast of
Saxon origin, as Netherley, the lower
field ; Ranley, the field of the haven,
&c. ; as may also such as affix holm to
any other syllable, as Buruholm, the
hill of the river ; Dunholm, the hill of
the fortress, &c.
We may enumerate in this class, like-
wise, all names terminating in hill, as
Churchill, Farnhill (sometimes written
Farnell), &c. ; such as end in stead, a
home, as Houghstead, Winstead, and
others ; also such as take for their last
syllable combe, a valley ; garth, an en-
closed place ; wold, a stony ridge ; cock,
a hillock ; coates, a fold ; stow, a place or
seat ; graves, a ward ; steth, the bank of
a river ; thwaite, a pasture ; hurst, a
meadow ; and many others, which it
would be tedious to enumerate. We
must be content with having mentioned
the principal of them.
The names of our nobility were
mostly of this class in ancient times.
and were purely Norman French, many
of them being derived from districts or
towns in Normandy or France, as
Beaufort, Montague, Nugent, Kussell,
or Rouselle, &c. Camden in his " Re-
-." says that there is scarcely a
village m Normandy that has not given
its name to some of our great families,
which proves how terribly our poor
country must have been inundated
with foreigners after the Conquest, and
how deplorably the inhabitants must
have been stripped of their property
to enrich the new comers. Some of
our nobility at the present day also
derive their family names from foreign
occupations or trades, as Molyneux,
Grosvenor, &c. " Many of them, how-
ever, still bear Saxon names, which
shows that, after the Conquest, some of
the old families retained their dignity,
and that some were ennobled."
We will next take those names which
are derived from the parent, and which
were undoubtedly of very early adop-
tion. Many of these were taken from
''contractions, diminutives, or familiar
appellatives of Christian names," as
taken from regular Christian names, as
Johnson, Jacobson, Richardson, Wil-
liamson, &c. The Saxon epithet kin or
kins, expressive of littleness or infancy,
was also affixed to many Christian
names, as Wilkens, little Will ; Tom-
kins, little Tom ; and this appellative
was transmitted to the next generation
as Wilkinson, the son of little Will ;
Tomkinson, the son of little Tom, &c.
In Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, many
families have Fitz, 0, Mac, and Ap,
affixed to their names, to express the
same idea ; as Fitzwilliam, the son of
William ; O'Dogherty, the son of Dog-
herty ; Mac Donald, the son of Donald;
Ap Rin, contracted into Prin ; Ap
Howel into Powell, &c. In many parts
of England and Wales a distinction ha*
been made between the names of the
father and son by simply adding s, and
sometimes es, to that of the former ; as
Evans, Roberts, Hughes, Williams, &c.
The third class of British surnames
may be said to consist of those derived
from trades or occupations, and in a
country like this, it may be supposed
that this tree spreads far and wide ; as
its branches maybe considered all such
appellatives as Smith, Baker, Brewer,
Tailor. The more useful and common
SURNAMES.
297
the calliug expressed, the more ancient,
in all probability, was ite appropriation.
Thus we may observe that the Flet-
chers, or makers of arrows ; the Web-
sters, the Weavers, the Masons, and
some others, though common amongst
us, are not of such constant occurrence
as those of the more simple trades.
It is a remarkable fact, but a fact
nevertheless, that the names of arts or
trades introduced in later times have
not been adopted as family appellatives ;
we never hear of Mr. Jeweller, Mr.
Engraver, Mr. Architect, &c. " It has
also been remarked that though we
have Clerk and Leech to designate two
of the learned professions, we have
none to express lawyer. But the word
Clerk was abundantly employed, espe-
cially in the north, to express lawyer,
as well as priest, and this may account
for the extreme frequency of this sur-
name."
We will next consider those names
given to their owners originally for
some quality or supposed attribute ; a
feeling of respect seems sometimes to
have dictated these, as bestowing a
merited distinction ; such are those of
Bright, Good, Wise, Fair, Hardy,
Worthy, and many more. Sometimes
derision appears to have pointed her
finger at cei'taiii individuals by attach-
ing to them such appellations as Cruick-
shanks, Lougbottom, Clodpole, &c.
Others seem to indicate a certain dis-
position of mind or character ; as Goto-
bed (a desirable name to be called by at
the close of a dull November day),
Younghusband, Wellbeloved, Scatter-
good, Goodenough, Cleverly, and some
other odd compounds, that cause xis to
smile when they occur in the daily in-
tercourse or life. Writers who have
gone deeper into the subject of proper
names than most other topics, decidedly
think that those of this class are more
ancient than any other, as the evident
qualities of mind or body would furnish
the first distinctive epithets among all
early tribes or nations. The veil of
mystery hangs over the origin of all
things ; but certaiuly a controversy on
the antiquity of English proper names
would be most amusing, and would,
besides, possess the valuable property
of lasting out the lives of the contro-
versialists, and of leaving each party
crowned with the wreath of conquest, in
his own estimation, at the close ; for
who could decide between them, or say
to whom the victory belonged ?
The fifth class of surnames is derived
from natural objects or productions,
chiefly animals, fruit, vegetables, flowers,
&c. These were, doubtless, originally
conferred from some supposed analogy
between the individual and the object
which supplied the designation ; and if
this be admitted, we must suppose that
the first possessors of the names of Lion,
Panther, Bull, and Bear, would be
avoided for their ferocity; while we
must confess that, with the original
family of the Sharks (now mostly
written Stark) we would rather have
left a P.P.C. card, than have sent one
of invitation. Then what opinion
must be formed of the first Lizards,
Foxes, Weazles, Badgers, Tadpoles, and
Cats ? The primitive Lambs, Hares,
Coneys, Harts, Partridges, Doves, Gold-
finches, Pointers, and Beagles, were, on
the contrary, no doubt distinguished
for their gentleness and other agreeable
or serviceable qualities. All social in-
tercourse with the first Snows and
Frosts we must imagine to have been
of a most repelling nature ; while that
with the original Springs, Summerfi elds,
Honeymen, and Goodales, must have
been equally agreeable and inviting.
The name of Eose, now so common, we
can only imagine to have been first
bestowed on some fair maiden of sur-
passing beauty; and our ancestors
were surely too gallant to attach such
appellations as those of Lily, Hyacinth,
Primrose, Hawthorn, or Roseberry, to
any other but the fair sex. For the
same reason we may conjecture that
the first Peaches, Melons, Pines, Gages,
and Plumtrees, were females. The
names of Hawk, Leopard, and some
others, inspire us with no agreeable
ideas of their original possessors ; while
we naturally suppose pertness or insig-
nificance to have marked the first
Sparrows, Starlings, Flounders, Whit-
ings, and Smelts. 10
THERE'S NOTHING LOST.
There are some English surnames
that cannot be comprised in either of
the above classes. These are mostly |
monosyllabic, of which it is difficult to
trace the etymology, partly from the
change which orthography has under-
gone since the days of early civilisation,
and partly from the words having be-
come so obsolete as to elude the efforts
of the Tnost industrious research. If
they could be successfully investigated,
it is generally supposed that they could
be referred to one of the five classes
enumerated in this paper.
Names derived from dignified titles,
such as King, Prince, Duke, Bishop,
Earl, &c., have been the subject of some
contention. Camden thinks that many
names of this kind were taken from the
device in the armorial bearings of parti-
cular families, and were borne by their
servants and dependents ; and this seems
probable, for it is not likely that dig-
nitaries themselves would be thus
called, as they were always distinguished
by their proper titles. They might
sometimes, however, have been given
in derision to individuals who were
ostentatious or assuming.
On taking promiscuously a hundred
names from a general directory, Mr.
Merrick found the proportion of the
differen classes to be as follows :-
Names of countries, towns, or -villages ... 48
Attributes, qualities, or nicknames 19
Trades or professions 14
Patronymics 9
Natural objects or productions 7
Not comprised in any of the above 3
100
No trace can be found in this country
of the time when the appropriation of
surnames ceased, or went out of
fashion. Those who have given most
attention to the subject, think the
practice has not existed, except in a few
instances, for the last two or three
centuries ; and it is the opinion of some
that, from the great increase of popu-
lation, it will be found necessary, ere
long, in order to avoid confusion, to
revive the custom : to issue a new
coinage, and by giving individuals bear-
ing the commonest names the privilege
of assuming others on their marriage,
to insure to posterity more distinctive
appellations than those enjoyed by
the families of the present day.
THERE'S NOTHING LOST.
THERE'S nothing lost The tiniest flower
That grows within the darkest vale,
Though lost to view, has still the power
The rarest perfume to exhale ;
That perfume, borne on zephyr's wings,
May visit some lone sick one's bed,
And like the balm affection brings,
'Twill scatter gladness round her head.
There's nothing lost. The drop of dew
That trembles in the rosebud's breast
Will seek its home of ether blue,
And fall again as pure and blest ;
Perchance to revel in the spray,
Or moisten the dry parching sod,
Or mingle in the fountain spray,
Or sparkle in the bow of God
There's nothing lost The seed that's cast
By careless hand upon the ground
Will yet take root, and may at last
A green and glorious tree be found ;
Beneath its shade, some pilgrim may
Seek shelter from the heat of noon,
While in its boughs the breezes play,
And song-birds sing their sweetest tune.
There's nothing lost. The slightest tone
Or whisper from a loved one's voice
May melt a heart of hardest stone,
And make a saddened heart rejoice ;
And then, again, the careless word
Our thoughtless lips too often speak
May touch a heart already stirred^
And cause that troubled heart to break.
There's nothing lost The faintest strain
Of breathings from some dear one's lute
In memory's dream may come again,
Though every mournful string be mute :
The music of some happier hour
The harp that swells with love's own wo Js
May thrill the soul with deepest power,
When still the hand that sweeps its cords.
A MAN is taller in the morning than
at night to the extent of half an inch,
owing to the relaxation of the cartilages
ten days per annum is the average
sickness of human life. About the age
of thirty-six the lean man general 1
becomes fatter, and the fat man
leaner.
THE FLOWERS THAT LOOK UPWARD.
299
THE FLOWERS THAT LOOK
UPWARD.
A GROUP of young, light-hearted girls
sat together in the twilight, busily ar-
ranging the flowers they had been
gathering in the pleasant woods and
fields.
" What beautiful things flowers are !"
said one ; " and what a pleasant amuse-
ment it would be, now that we are all
sitting here so quietly, if each were to
choose which flower she would be
like."
"Just as if there would be any
choice," exclaimed Laura Bennett, a
little proudly. " Among all the flowers
that grow, there is none to vie in beauty
with the rose. Let me be the queen
of the flowers, or none."
" For my part," observed her sister
Helen, " I should like to resemble the
luxuriant rhododendron, so beautifully
described in our book of flowers.
When any one passing shakes it roughly
it scatters, as we are told, a shower of
honey-dew from its roseate cups, and
immediately begins to fill its chalices
anew with transparent ambrosia, teach-
ing us to scatter sweetness even upon
the hands of those that disturb us, and
to fill again, with pure honey-drops, the
chalices of our inward thoughts. Oh,
who would not wish to be meek and
forgiving, like the rhododendron, if they
could ? But it is very difficult," added
poor Helen, with tears in her eyes.
" It is, indeed," said Lucy Neville,
gently, " if we trust only to our own
strength. And who is there to help
us ? It is only when my father looks
at me in his grave, kind manner, that I
have the slightest control over myself."
" What a pity it is," said Laura,
simply, " we cannot always remember
that the eye of our Heavenly Father is
upon us."
" I wish I could," said Helen.
"I have heard mother say," ob-
served Lucy, "that praying is better
than wishing."
" Xow, Clara," interrupted Laura
Bennett, turning impatiently towards
a fair, genteel-looking girl by her side,
" we are waiting for you."
Clara smiled, and immediately chose
the pale convolvulus, or bindweed,
winding so carelessly in and out among
the bushes, and flinging over them a
grateful covering, an emblem of meek
beauty and loving tenderness. " The
only pity is," added she, " that it
should so soon close up and fade."
" But what says our dear Lucy ?"
exclaimed Helen. |
"I think I can guess," said Clara
Seymore ; " either a violet or hearts-
ease. Have I guessed right ?"
" Not quite," said Lucy, with a deep
blush. "Although both flowers that
you have named are great favourites of
mine, I should like to resemble the
daisy most, because it is always looking
upward."
"Do tell me," said Helen, as they
walked home together, carrying the
flowers which they had gathered to
adorn their several dwellings ; "do tell
me why you wished just now to be al-
ways looking upward, like the daisy."
" Oh, Helen ! can you ask ? "What
more do you require for happiness than
to be able, let the cloud be ever so dark,
to look upward with the eye of faith,
and say, 'It is Heaven's will, and
therefore it is best ?' "
THE BISHOP AND THE BIRDS.
A BISHOP, who had for his arms two
fieldfares, with the motto, "Are not
two sparrows sold for a farthing ?"
thus explained the matter to an inti-
mate friend :
" Fifty or sixty years ago, a little boy
resided at a village near Dillengen, on
the banks of the Danube. His parents
were very poor, and, almost as soon as
the boy could walk, he was sent into
the woods to pick up some sticks for
fuel. When he grew older his father
taught him to pick the juniper-berries,
and carry them to a neighbouring dis-
tiller, who wanted them for making
Hollands.
" Day by day the poor boy went to
his task, and on his road he passed the
open windows of the village school,
where he saw the schoolmaster teach-
300
THE MYSTERIES OF A FLOWER.
ing a number of boys of about the
same age a? himself. He looked at
these boys with feelings of envy, so
earnestly did he long to be among
them. He was quite aware it was in j
vain to ask his father to send him to
school, for he knew that his parents
had no money to pay the schoolmaster ;
and he often passed the whole day
thinking, while he was gathering the
juniper-berries, what he could possibly
do to please the schoolmaster, in the
hope of getting some lessons.
" One day, when he was walking
sadly along, he saw two of the boys be-
longing to the school trying to set a
bird-trap, and he asked one what it
was for 1 The boy told him that the
schoolmaster was very fond of fieldfares
and that they were setting a trap to
catch some. This delighted the poor
boy, for he recollected thatf he had
often seen a great number of these
birds in the juniper wood, where they
came to eat the berries, and he had no
doubt but he could catch some.
" The next day the little boy bor-
rowed an old basket of his mother, and
when he went to the wood he had the
great delight to catch two fieldfares.
He then put them in the basket, and,
tying an old handkerchief over it, he
took them to the schoolmaster's house.
Just as he arrived at the door he saw
the two little boys who had been j
setting the trap, and with some j
alarm he asked them if they had |
caught any birds 1 They answered in
the negative ; and the boy, his heart
beating with joy, gained admittance
into the schoolmaster's presence. In a
few words he told how he had seen the
boys setting the trap, and how he had
caught the birds to bring them as a
present to the master.
" ' A present, my good boy ! ' cried
the schoolmaster, ' you do not look as
if you could afford to make presents.
Tell me your price, and I will pay it to
to you, and thank you besides V
" ' I would rather give them to you,
sir, if you please,' said the boy.
" The schoolmaster looked at the boy
who stood before him, with bare head
and feet, and ragged trousers that
reached only half-way down his naked
legs.
" ' You are a very singular boy,' said
he, ' but, if you will not take money,
you must tell me what I can do for
you ; as I cannot accept your present
without doing something for it in re-
turn. Is there anything 1 can do for
you ?'
" ' Oh, yes !' said the boy, trembling
with delight; 'you can do for me what
I should like better than anything rl.-v.'
" ' What is that ?' asked the school-
master, smiling.
" ' Teach me to read,' cried the boy,
falling on his knees ; ' oh ! dear, kind
sir, teach me to read !'
"The schoolmaster complied. The
boy came to him at all leisure hours,
and learned so rapidly that the teacher
recommended him to a nobleman re-
siding in the neighbourhood. This
gentleman, who was as noble in mind
as in birth, patronised the poor boy,
and sent him to school at Ratisbon.
The boy profited by his opportunities ;
and when he rose, as he soon did, to
wealth and honours, he adopted two
fieldfares as his arms.
" What do you mean," cried the
bishop's friend.
" ' I mean,' returned the bishop, with
a smile, 'that the poor boy was MY-
SELF.' "
THE MYSTERIES OF A FLOWER.
FLOWERS have been called the stars of
the earth ; and certainly, when we ex-
amine those beautiful creations, and
discover them analysing the sunbeam
and sending back to the eye the full
luxury of coloured light, we must con-
fess there is more real appropriateness
in the term than even the poet who con-
ceived the delicate thought imagined.
Lavoisier beautifully said : " The fable
of Prometheus is but the outshadowing
of a philosophic truth where there is
light, there is organization and life ;
where light cannot penetrate, Death
for ever holds his silent court." The
flowers, and, indeed, those far inferior
forms of organic vegetable life which
never flower, are direct dependencies on
THE MYSTERIES OF A FLOWER.
301
the solar rays. Through every stage
of existence they are excited by those
subtle agencies which are gathered
together in the sunbeam ; and to these
influences we may trace all that beauty
of development which prevails through-
out the vegetable world. How few
there are of even those refined minds
to whom flowers are more than a sym-
metric arrangement of petals har-
moniously coloured, who think of the
secret agencies for ever exciting the
life which is within their cells, to pro-
duce the organised structure who re-
flect on the deep yet divine philosophy
which may be read in every leaf:
those tongues in trees, which tell us of
eternal goodness and order !
The hurry of the present age is not
well suited to the contemplative mind ;
yet, with all, there must be hours in
which to fall back into the repose of
quiet thought becomes a luxury. The
nervous system is strung to endure
only a given amount of excitement ; if
its vibrations are quickened beyond this
measure, the delicate harp-strings are
broken, or they may undulate in throbs.
To every one the contemplation of
natural phenomena will be found to
induce that repose which gives vigour
to the mind as sleep restores the
energies of a toil-exhausted body. And
to show the advantages of such a study,
and the interesting lessons which are to
be learned hi the fields of nature, is the
purpose of the present essay.
The flower is regarded as the full
development of vegetable growth ; and
the consideration of its mysteries natu-
rally involves a careful examination of
the life of a plant, from the seed placed
in the soil to its full maturity, whether
it be as herb or tree.
For the pei'fect understanding of the
physical conditions under which vege-
table life is earned on, it is necessary to
appreciate, in its fulness, the value of
the term growth. It has been said that
stones grow that the formation of
cr} T stals was an analogous process to
the formation of a leaf; and this im-
pression has appeared to be somewhat
confirmed, by witnessing the variety of
arborescent forms into which solidifying
waters pass, when the external cold
spreads it as ice over our window panes.
This is, however, a great error ; stones
do not grow there is no analogy even
between the formation of a crystal and
the growth of a leaf. All inorganic
masses increase in size only by the
accretion of particles layer upon layer,
without any chemical change taking
place as an essentiality. The sun may
shine for ages upon a stone withVmt
quickening it into life, changing its
constitution, or adding to its mass.
Organic matter consists of arrange-
ments of cells or sacs, and the increase
in size is due to the absorption of
gaseous matter, through the fine tissue
of which they are composed. The gas
a compound of carbon and oxygen
is decomposed by the excitement pro-
duced by light ; and the solid mattef
thus obtained is employed in b nil ding
a new cell or producing actual growth,,
a true function of life, in all the pro-
cesses of which matter is constantly
undergoing chemical change.
The simplest developments of vege-
table life are the formation of confervas
upon water, and of lichens upon the
surface of the rock. In chemical con-
stitution, these present no very re-
markable differences from the culti-
vated flower which adorns our garden,
or the tree which has risen in its pride
amidst the changing seasons of many
centuries. Each alike has derived its
solid constituents from the atmosphere,
and the chemical changes in all are
equally dependent upon the powers
which have their mysterious origin in
the great centre of our planetary sys-
tem.
Without dwelling upon the processes
which take place in the lower forms of
vegetable life, the purposes of this
essay will be fully answered by taking
an example from amongst the higher
class of plants, and examining its condi-
tions, from the germination of the seed
to the full development of the flower
rich in form, colour, and odour.
In the seed-cell we find, by minute
examination, the embryo of the future
plant carefully preserved in its envelope
of starch and gluten. The investigations
THE MYSTERIES OF A FLOWER.
which have been carried on upon the
vitality of seeds appear to prove that,
under favourable conditions, this life-
germ may be maintained for centuries.
Grains of wheat, which had been found
in the hands of an Egyptian mummy,
germinated and grew ; these grains were
produced, in all probability, more than
three thousand years since ; they had
been placed, at her burial, in the hands
of a priestess of Isis, and in the deep
repose of the Egyptian catacomb were
preserved to tell us, in the eighteenth
century, the story of that wheat which
Joseph sold to his brethren.
The process of germination is essen-
tially a chemical one. The seed is
placed in the soil, excluded from the
light, supplied with a due quantity of
moisture, and maintained at a certain
temperature, which must be above that
at which water freezes ; air must have
free access to the seed, which, if placed
so deep in the soil as to prevent the
permeation of the atmosphere, never
germinates. Under favourable circum-
stances the life-quickening process be-
gins ; the starch, which is a compound of
carbon and oxygen, is converted into
sugar by the absorption of another
equivalent of oxygen from the air : and
we have an evident proof of this change
in the sweetness which most seeds ac-
quire in the process, the most familiar
example of which we have in the con-
version of barley into malt. The sugar
thus formed furnishes the food to the
now living creation, which, in a short
period, shoots its first leaves above the
soil ; and these, which, rising from their
dark chambers, are white, quickly be-
come green under the operation of
light.
In the process of germination a species
of slow combustion takes place, and
as in the chemical processes of animal
life and in those of active ignition
carbonic acid gas, composed of oxygen
and charcoal, or carbon, is evolved.
Thus, by a mystery which our science
does not enable us to reach, the spark
of life is kindled life commences its
work the plant grows. The first condi-
tions of vegetable growth are, therefore,
singularly similar to those which are
found to prevail in the animal economy.
The leaf-bud is no sooner above the soil
than a new set of conditions begin ; the
plant takes carbonic acid from the at-
mo<}>here, and having, in virtue of its
vitality, by the agency of luminous
power, decomposed this gas, it retains
the carbon, and pours forth the oxygen
tojihe air. This process is stated to be
a function of vitality ; but, as this has
been variously described by different
authors, it is important to state with
some minuteness what does really take
place.
The plant absorbs carbonic acid
from the atmosphere through the under
surfaces of the leaves, and the whole of
the bark ; it at the same time derives
an additional portion from the moisture
which is taken up by the roots and con-
veyed " to the topmost twig " by the
force of capillary attraction, and another
power called endosmosis, which is exert-
ed in a most striking manner by living
organic tissues. This mysterious force
is shown in a pleasing way by covering
some spirits of wine and water in a
wine glass with a piece of bladder ; the
water will escape, leaving the strong
spirit behind.
Independently of the action of light
the plant may be regarded as a mere
machine ; the fluids and gases which it
absorbs pass off in a condition but very
little changed just as water would
strain through a sponge or a porous
stone. The consequence of this is the
blanching or etiolation of the plant,
which we produce by our artifical treat-
ment of celery and sea-kale the forma-
tion of the carbonaceous compound called
chlorophyle, which is the green colour-
ing matter of the leaves, being entirely
checked in darkness. If such a plant is
brought into the light its dormant
powers are awakened, and, instead of
being little other than a sponge through
which fluids circulate, it exerts most re-
markable chemical powers ; the carbonic
acid of the air and water is decomposed ;
its charcoal is retained to add to the wood
of the plant, and the oxygen is set free
again to the atmosphere. In this pro-
cess is exhibited one of the most beau-
tiful illustrations of the harmony which
THE MYSTERIES OF A FLOWER.
303
prevails through all the great phe-
nomena of nature with which we are ac-
quainted the mutual dependence of
the vegetable and animal kingdoms.
In the animal economy there is a
constant production of carbonic acid,
and the beautiful vegetable kingdom,
spread over the earth in such infinite
variety, requires this carbonic acid for
its support. Constantly removing from
the air the pernicious agent produced
by the animal world, and giving back
that oxygen which ia required as the
life-quickening element by the animal
races, the balance of affinities is con-
stantly maintained by the phenomena
of vegetable growth. This is a wonder-
ful instance of the providence of God
in Nature.
The decomposition of carbonic acid
is directly dependent upon luminous
agency. From the impact of the ear-
liest morning ray to the period when
the sun reaches the zenith, the excita-
tion of that vegetable vitality by which
the chemical change is effected regularly
increases. As the solar orb sinks to-
wards the horizon, the chemical activity
diminishes the sun sets the action is
reduced to its minimum the plant, in
the repose of darkness, passes to that
state of rest which is as necessary to the
vegetating races as sleep is to the wearied
animal.
There are two well-marked stages in
the life of a plant; germination and
vegetation are exerted under different
conditions ; the time of flowering ar-
rives, and another change occurs, the
processes of forming the alkaline and
acid juices, of producing the oil, wax,
and resin, and of secreting those nitro-
genous compounds which are found in
the seed, are in full activity. Carbonic
acid is now evolved and oxygen is re-
tained ; hydrogen and nitrogen are also
forced, as it were, into combination
with the oxygen and carbon, and al-
together new and more complicated
operations are in activity.
Such are the phenomena of vegetable
life which the researches of our philoso-
phers have developed. This curious
order this regular progression show-
ing itself at well- marked epochs, is now
known to be dependent upon solar in-
fluences; the
" Bright effluence of bright essence increate"
works its mysterious wonders on every
organic form. Much is still involved in
mystery : but to the call of science some
strange truths have been made manifest
to man, and of some of these the
phenomena must now be explained.
Germination is a chemical change
which takes place most readily in dark
ness ; vegetable growth is due to the se-
cretion of carbon under the agency of
light; and the processes of Jtoriation
are shown to involve some new and
compound operations ; these three states
must be distinctly appreciated.
The sunbeam comes to us as a flood of
pellucid light, usually colourless ; if we
disturb this white beam, as by compel-
ling it to pass through a triangular piece
of glass, we break it up into coloured
bands, which we call the spectrum, in
which we have such an order of chro-
matic rays as are seen in the rainbow
of a summer shower. These coloured
rays are now known to be the source of
all the tints by which Nature adorns
the surface of the earth, or art imitates
in its desire to create the beautiful.
These coloured bands have not the same
luminating power, nor do they possess
the same heat-giving property. The
yellow rays give the most light ; the red
I rays have the function of heat in the
' highest degree. Beyond these proper-
ties, the sunbeam possesses another,
which is the power of producing
chemical change of effecting those
magical results which we witness in the
photographic processess, by which the
beams illuminating any object are made
to delineate it upon the prepared tablet
of the artist.
It has been suspected that these three
phenomena are not due to the same
agency, but that, associated in the sun-
beam, we have light, producing all the
blessings of vision, and throwing the
veil of colour over all things heat,
maintaining that temperature over our
globe which is necessary to the perfec-
tion of living organism and a third
! principle, actinism, by which the chenii-
304-
THE MYSTERIES OF A FLOWER.
cal changes alluded to are effected. Wi-
possess the power, by the coloured
media, of separating these principles
from each other, and of analysing their
effect. A yellow glass allows light to
pass through it most freely, but it ob-
structs actinism almost entirely ; a deep
j blue glass, on the contrary, prevents
the permeation of light, but it offers no
interruption to the actinic or chemical
; rays : a red glass, again, cuts off most
of the rays, except those which have
peculiarly a calorific, or heat-giving
power.
With this knowledge we proceed in
our experiments, and learn some of the
mysteries of nature's chemistry. If,
above the soil in which the seed is
placed, we fix a deep pure yellow glass,
the chemical change which marks gei 1 -
mination is prevented ; if, on the con-
trary, we employ a blue one, it is greatly
accelerated ; seeds, indeed, placed
beneath the soil, covered with a cobalt
blue finger-glass, will germinate many
days sooner than such as may be exposed
to the ordinary influences of sunshine ;
this proves the necessity of the princi-
ple actinism to this first stage of vege-
table life. Plants, however, made to
grow under the influences of such blue
media present much the same condi-
tions as those which are reared in the
dark ; they are succulent instead of
woody, and have yellow leaves and
white stalks ; indeed, the formation of
leaves is prevented, and all the vital
energy of the plant is exerted in the
production of stalk. The chemical
principle of the sun's rays alone is not
therefore sufficient ; remove the plant
to the influence of light, as separated
1 from actinism, by the action of yellow
media, and wood is formed abundantly ;
the plant grows most healthfully, and
the leaves assume that dark green which
belongs to tropical climes or to our
most brilliant summers. Light is thus
proved to be the exciting agent in effect-
ing those chemical decompositions
which have already been described ;
but, under the influence of isolated
light, it is found that plants will not
flower. When, however, the subject of
our experiment is brought under the
influence of a red glass, particularly
that variety in which a beautifully pure
red is produced by oxide of gold, the
whole process of floriation and the per-
fection of the seed is accomplished.
Careful and long-continued observa-
tions have proved that in the spring,
when the process of germination is
most active, the chemical ray*? are the
most abundant in the sunbeam. As
the summer advances, light, relatively
to the other forces, is largely increased ;
at this season the trees of the forest,
the herb of the valley, and the culti-
vated plants which adorn our dwellings,
are all alike adding to their wood.
Autumn comes on, and then heat, so
necessary for ripening grain, is found to
exist in considerable excess. It is
curious, too, that the autumnal heat has
properties peculiarly its own so deci-
dedly distinguished from the ordinary
heat, that Sir John Herschel and Mr.
Somerville have adopted a term to dis-
tinguish it. The peculiar browning or
rays of scorching autumn are called the
paratkermic rays : they possess a re-
markable chemical action added to their
calorific one ; and to this are due those
complicated phenomena already briefly
described.
In these experiments, carefully tried,
we are enabled to imitate the conditions
of Nature, and supply at any time those
states of solar radiation which belong
to the varying seasons of the year.
Such is a rapid sketch of the mys-
teries of a flower. " Consider the lilies
of the field, how they grow ; they toil
not, neither do they spin ; arid yet I
say unto you, Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed like one of these."
Under the influence of the sunbeam,
vegetable life is awakened, continued,
and completed : a wondrous alchemy is
effected ; the change in the condition of
the solar radiations determines the
varying conditions of vegetable vitality ;
and in its progress those transmutations
occur which at once give beauty to the
exterior world, and provide for the
animal races the necessary food by
which their existence is maintained.
The contemplation of influence.-! such
as these realises in the human soul that
THE GEYSERS.
305
sweet feeling which, with Keats, finds
that
" A thing of beauty is a joy for ever;
Its loveliness increasing, it will never
Pass into nothingness, but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dream, and health, and quiet
breathing.
* * * *
" Such the sun and moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep ; and such are daffodils,
With the green world they live in."
THE GEYSERS.
"THOSE Geysers are very wonderful
things," said Mr. Horton, as he closed a
book he had been reading for an hour or
two.
"What are they, papa?" said Willy;
" will you please to tell me ?"
""They are fountains that throw
vast quantities of hot water and steain
to a great height into the air."
" In what part of the world are they
found ?"
"In Iceland. One of them, which
is called the Great Geyser, is de-
scribed as presenting the appearance
of a large mound. You go up its
side,?, and you find a large basin at the
top. It is not quite round, being fifty-
six feet across in one way, and forty-six
the other, and about four feet deep. In
the centre there is a hole or pipe going
down into the earth seventy-eight feet.
This pipe is about eight or ten feet in
diameter, widening as it opens into the
basin. The hot water rises up through
the pipe, and fills the basin, and then
runs off over the sides. Every few
hours there are heard loud reports, like
that of distant artillery, in the earth
beneath the basin, and then water is
ejected from the pipe with great vio-
lence and to a great height."
" How high does it rise ?"
" It varies : sometimes the column of
water is thrown up twenty or thirty
feet, sometimes fifty feet, and sometimes
as high as seventy or eighty feet. Think
of a column of water eight or ten feet
in diameter, thrown up seventy feet,
with a tremendous roar, and a cloud of
steam along with it '"
" I should think it would be one of
the most wonderful sights in the
world."
" It is so." ^
" Does it rise swiftly ?"
" Very swiftly. Sometimes large
stones are thrown up. Sometimes
visitors throw stones in the pipes, and
they are thrown out and up into the air,
where the water is thrown up, and
sometimes they are kept up in the air
for four or five minutes by the action of
the water. There are a great many
smaller Geysers in the vicinity of this
larger one. Mr. Henderson, who
visited them in 1814, thinks he dis-
covered the key of one of the largest of
them."
" The key ! what did he mean ?"
" They throw out the steam and
water, as I said, at intervals. After
there have been loud reports, and a
shaking of the earth, and an ejection of
water and steam, they will be quiet for
some time, BO that the spectator may
have to wait several hours, perhaps, be-
fore he may see them in operation again.
Mr. Henderson found that, by throwing
a quantity of large stones into the open-
ing, he could cause it to make an irrup-
tion whenever he pleased. At one time,
when it had been excited to action in
this way, it threw up jets more than
two hundred feet high."
' f lt seems as though he made it
angry by throwing stones into it."
" When the sun was shining on these
jets, they presented a most brilliant
appearance. The water appeared as
white as snow, and rainbows were seen
all about it. Besides the water-pipes,
there are a great many steam-pipes in
the vicinity that is, holes in the earth,
out of which columns of steam issue.
The clouds of steam sometimes thrown
out cover the whole heavens from the
view."
" Is the water hot water ?''
" Yes, it is very hot ; and spectators
often get scalded by its falling upon
them. At one time, Mr. Henderson
was looking into the pipe of one of the
largest, and the column of scalding
306
FOR WHAT DO WE LIVE?
water came up as swift as an arrow,
withing a few inches of his f
" I suppose he ran. But what is the
cause of the water's spirting up so ?"
" I can tell you the general cause by
which it is thrown up, though I cannot
explain the particular manner in which
it is done. The volcanic fires under-
neath are the cause. The fires are near
the surface, and the phenomena we
have been considering are caused by
their action."
" Isn't it dangerous to be there ?"
"It is. The crust of earth over
the fire is very thin, and may fall in at
any moment."
" What makes the fire there ?"
" I can't answer that question. Pro-
bably all the interior of the earth is one
mass of fire."
" One mass of fire ! Do you suppose
there is fire \inder our feet."
" I presume there is ; the crust be-
tween us and the fire is much thicker
than in volcanic countries."
"But still it may burn through. I
did not think that we were in so much
danger."
' ' We are always in danger are never
safe but when in the Almighty's hand.
There alone is safety. If we put our
trust in Him, we are safe anywhere.
If we do not, we are safe nowhere. Put
your trust in God, then, toy children, at
all tunes and in all places."
FOR WHAT DO WE LIVE ?
FOR what ? Were this question pro-
pounded to one who has been fashiona-
bly educated, according to the customs
of the nineteenth century, and who had
never given the subject a serious thought,
he would be sadly puzzled for an an-
swer.
Go to the model man of business,
the shrewd, prudent, time saving, money
gathering man of the world, tell him
truthfully, but plainly, that he has been
for years bending every power and
every energy, with a zeal that has
known no dampening, and a persever-
ance that has known no relaxation, for
the purpose of gathering a pile of the
shining ore, that this has been the
grand aim of his life : and will he not
reject the charge with scorn ?
Speak to the votary of fashion, and of
pleasure to him who has never ques-
tioned the truth of the pretty commonly
received opinion, that dress, name, and
wealth are the principal requisites to
make the man, and that in most cases
any one of them is sufficient to do it ;
ask him of the worthy objects of his
life ? Can he reply ?
Ask the public man ; for long years
he laboured unweariedly and unremit-
tingly in the pursuit of fame. The mid-
night lamp oft grew dim ere he sought
his couch ; and he left no stone un-
turned to gain the desired result. At
last he found it; inquire of him for
what mankind should live, and with an
honest heart can he respond without
condemnation ?
Bring the question home. Let us
pause a moment in the vast current
that is bearing us along, as becomes
reasonable, intelligent beings, and
calmly propound the inquiry to our own
hearts. Let us look back through the
mists and mazes of the past, recall the
motives that have actuated us, and the
ends we have pursued. For what have
we lived ? Have we ever had a beacon
to direct our course, that was for one
moment worthy the attention of reason ?
How many in this boasted age of
wisdom and improvement this land
eulogised as the home of all that is
pure, all that is virtuous, and all that is
noble would they rigidly examine
themselves, could boast that they had
ever been actxiated by motives that
might justly demand for them a place
in that part of the scale of being allotted
to man ?
How many have lived only for the
animal and the sensual, with no aim but
the gratification of appetite and passion,
and no knowledge, or, at least, no ac-
knowledgment of a higher and a better
part of man !
How many more who, if they have
not pursued a course so diametrically
opposed to every dictate of reason and
virtue, have followed one hardly less
culpable, by making pleasure and
ASTRONOMY.
307
fashion their gods, and spending time
that richest of heaven's gifts to man in
trifling and frivolity ! Who shall num-
ber the thousands of human lives that
have passed in no higher employments
than these of adorning the fancy ?
Were suck wisely spent ?
And others, too, an innumerable host,
whose highest aim has been to procure
a subsistence in life, and minister to the
wants of sense, without ever thinking
to arouse those latent powers of mind
with which they are blest. That these
aims are honourable and commendable,
in their proper place, no one can doubt ;
but are they worthy to command all, or
even the highest attention of rational
beings ?
Inasmuch as man is found above the
brute, even in the glorious image of the
First Great Cause in just so much is
the intellectual above the animal, the
moral above the intellectual. He who
lives only, or principally for the grati-
fication of sense, deserves the lowest
place among men. He who seeks to
expand the mind and enlarge the
faculties, pursues an end far higher;
and he who combines with this a steady,
firm attempt to educate and train
aright his moral nature, has the very
highest aims in view.
However humble may be his station
in life, aye, though he may drink to the
very dregs of the cup of poverty, he is
the noblest specimen of man the
noblest work of God.
ASTRONOMY. THE STARS,
THEIR HISTORY AND LAWS.
"SISTER, will you not walk with us ? "
said Ellen Graham to Mary, one even-
ing, as she found her on the porch of
their father's elegant mansion. " Here
are some of my classmates, Eliza, Rosa,
and Nancy, who were so much delighted
with your instructions when you
walked with us a few evenings since,
and they have come with me to beg
you to go again. We have been study-
ing the trees, plants, ani mals, and even
the rocks, and find in them beauties
we never thought of before we took
that delightful walk to the spring, and
you explained to us some of the won-
ders of the natural world, in the midst
of which we live."
" Girls," said Mary, " I suppose that,
like many others, you are reciting les-
sons at school without looking about
and reading in the great book of Nature
the most wonderful lessons, and apply-
ing the knowledge which your books
give to solving her mysteries. In fact,
you have studied as though you were
learning of things which you never saw.
I am glad that our conversation at the
spring has awakened in you a desire to
study nature, and, if you continue to
feel an interest, I shall be happy to turn
over many leaves with you in this
great book. I propose that we take
our own home, and, considering this a
miniature world, study its natural
history in all the various departments.
Thus you will be enabled to apply the
principles you find in your books of
philosophy and natural science to the
world around. Then every rock, tree,
brook, and shrub will seem to speak an
intelligible language to your souls. It
is too late to walk now, for the stars are
already twinkling, and the frost is
sparkling on the grass, so we will con-
fine om-selves to the porch this evening.
But, if you choose, we can wander for
awhile iu the 'garden of Deity, blos-
somed with stars,' and study those
shining bodies whose laws and pheno-
mena are intimately connected with our
earth, and may properly be introduced
into our natural history. In studying
geography you all learned your latitude
and longitude, but perhaps you did not
know that it is to observations on the
heavens we owe this knowledge. By
applying, your mathematics you will
soon be able to tell the exact latitude
and longitude of this house, and calcu-
late the times for the rising and setting
of the sun, moon, and stars, for every
day in the year."
"Why, sister," said EUen, "I have
always looked in the almanac for these
things, and never once thought that I
could find them out for myself. I
thought that it was a kind of magical
1 gxiess-work ; but now I understand
308
ASTRONOMY.
that we all, by study, may become ma-
gicians enough to make an almanac if
we choose. As for the stars, I have
looked at them with a strange kind of
fear and wonder. AVhrn a little child
my old nurse taught me they were holes
in the eky to let the glory of Heaven,
which was above, shine through. Then,
again, I thought they were angels' eyes,
which were closed in the day because
the sun was so bright, but at night
they opened them, and winked as they
looked down upon us. I have since
learned that these stars are worlds, and
have observed that we do not always
see the same ones. So, sister Mary, I
am prepared to be interested in your
instructions."
" Girls, we will then commence at
once, as a few of the largest stars have
already opened their eyes, as Ellen
might say. In reality, they have been
shining all day as brightly as they do
now, but we did not see them because
the light of the sun was so much
greater. The stars are always shining,
and as soon as the sun goes out of
sight at any place they appear. The
atmosphere has the property of reflect-
ing the light in all directions, and could
we find a place where we were not ex-
posed to this reflection, we could see
them as well as at night. One time a
man in London, while looking up a tall
chimney in the day, saw the stars dis-
tinctly. Curiosity to understand this
strange sight led him to study, and in
time he became a great astronomer.
Persons who have entered deep wells
have observed the same, and, being ig-
norant of the cause, have in great fright
come to the tipper air to see what
calamity had thus suddenly brought on
the night. As the earth turns over
every twenty-four hours there has been
in succession starlight and sunlight
around its whole circumference. As
we are sitting on the porch the parlour
lamp shines brightly through the win-
dow, and we can see the stirs over our I
heads in the east. Now, were we to
take a ball, and on it place a little being |
as large as a fly, and commence turning '
the ball towards the east, the lamp
would seem to sink in the west, while
the stars would rise in the east, and
pass over its head. The fly would,
probably, think that all these bright
bodies were moving around his little
ball. This will not seem a strange
conclusion for the silly tly, when we
remember that many of the ancient
philosophers thought that all the
worlds we see in the heavens moved
around our earth every twenty-four
hours. They also thought that the
earth was flat and stood on the back of
some huge animal, but what held the
animal they could never tell. That the
earth is round or convex we have many
proofs. I will mention one of the most
simple. When you are riding over a
plain you first see the tops of trees and
houses in the distance, and as you ap-
proach they seem to rise. When you
have studied more you will be able to
understand the measurements and cal-
culations of astronomers to learn the
shape of the earth."
" Sister," said Ellen, " David knew
the shape of the world : for I was read-
ing in the Psalms this morning where
he says of the Lord. * He hath made the
round world.' And I heard the little
children reciting from their geography
to-day that the world is upheld by the
power of God ; and they gave a text
from Job : ' He hangeth the earth \ipon
nothing.' I will bring a geography, and
by the lamp shining through the win-
dow we can look at a picture of the
world."
" Girls," said Mary, " you can see by
this picture that what is up to a man
on one side of the earth, is down to one
on the opposite side ; the zenith, or
point over our head, is constantly chang-
ing, and the stars that is there now will,
twelve hours hence, be beneath us, or
up to the people in China. All we can
mean by up is from the earth. It is now
six o'clock in the evening of the first
day of January, and we will date our
observations from this time. You will
see in the east a group of very bright
stars consisting of two beautiful clus-
ters ; one consists of seven small stars
called the Seven Sisters, or Pleia !:.-<.
A little to the east of these is the other
cluster, called Hyades, in tt-=> form *
THE CAUSE OF WINDS.
309
a letter A. The whole group is known
by the name of Taurus, the Bull. When
we go into the house you can look at a
plate of it, and you will find the Pleia-
des mark one shoulder, and Hyades the
face of the animal. If you will look out
again about nine o'clock, you will find
it nearly overhead, and again towards
morning it may be seen going down in
the west. Now imagine yourselves the
fly on the ball, and you can explain the
apparent motion."
"Miss Mary," said Rosa, "I see the
beautiful clusters very distinctly, but
they do not make the. figure of an ani-
mal. Why was the name Taurus given
to the group ? "
" These heavenly bodies, Rosa, have
been subjects of study in all ages, and
among those who knew not the true
God, they were made objects of worship.
It was the custom of the eastern na-
tions to make gods of the animals they
held in the highest esteem, and also of
those persons who had done any great
deeds. These people were attentive ob-
servers of the sky, and as they supposed
heaven, or the place of rewai'd was
above, they learned to think there must
be the dwelling place of their favourite
deities. They accordingly marked off
the heavens into portions or constella-
tions, and to these gave the names of
their gods, whether men or animals."
" I suppose, 1 ' said Nancy, " as they
had no idea of worshipping a God which
could not be seen, they thus elevated
their deities to the highest throne they
could give them, where all might see
and worship."
"As we study out the heavens," said
Mary, " we shall find it a great book in
which the ancients expressed with the
stars their strange ideas ; thus we shall
enjoy a double pleasure. The bull was
a sacred animal with the early Egyp-
tians, and highly venerated as a god ;
he was therefore honoured with a place
in that beautiful group which we see in
the east. The Pleiades are said to be
named from seven sisters, who were
thus favoured on account of their affec-
tion and virtues. One of these un-
fortunately married a mortal, and her
star never after shone so brightly ; con-
sequently, you can seldom get a sight
of it. The whole is probably a fable ;
the sisters representing the virtues
which were most esteemed, and the dim
star a virtue which had been obscured
by vice."
" I suppose, then," said Eliza, " we
need not learn from this amusing tale
that we must marry none but gods.
But hereafter, when we look up at the
group of sisters in the heavens, their
history shall teach us to beautify our-
selves with all the virtues that orna-
ment a woman."
" Girls," said Mary, " you have had
your lecture, and Eliza has drawn a
conclusion which we hardly thought of
reaching when we commenced. I will
only remark, that Taurus is one of
twelve constellations which mark the
sun's apparent path through the
heavens ; all of which we will notice
before we mention others."
THE CAUSE OF WINDS.
Sydney. Come, children, the weather
is too cold, and the wind blows too
hard for you to play in the open air
to-day ; and if you will hear me and
listen, I will tell you something about
winds.
Henry. Oh do, Uncle Sydney, we
shall be so glad to hear it.
Sydney. Now, I am going to tell you
about the wind which you hear roaring
without ; and you may ask me ques-
tions about it, when you do not clearly
understand, or when you wish to know
more.
George. Thank you, uncle, I should
like to know what wind is.
Sydney. Wind is air in motion.
George. But what puts the air in
motion ?
Sydney. It is put in motion by
heat. Heat causes the air to expand,
and thus it becomes lighter than the
cold air, and rises up, when the cold air
rushes in to fill its place.
Henry. What heats the air ?
Sydney. The rays of the sun heat it.
They do not heat it by passing through
it, but by contact with the earth. This
310
THE CAUSE OF WINDS.
heat varies in temperature, as the sur-
face of the earth is more or less directly j
exposed to the influence of the sun':
hence the air is not all heated alike.
George. I think I understand you, j
uncle ; and that must be the reason why (
it is so much warmer on the side of a
hill towards the sun than on the oppo-
site side.
Sydney. Well done you are right,
and that is a good illustration.
Jane. I did not think the air could
be made to grow larger, or expand, as ]
you call it, uncle.
Sydney. Do you know, Jane, how '
George makes his foot-balls 1
Jane. Oh yes ; he takes a bladder,
and blows into it, through a quill, till
it will contain no more air ; then he
ties it up, so that no air can escape, and
crowds it into a leather case which he
laces up tight.
Sydney. Well, when he had blown
into the bladder but a little while, it
was full of air ; but the bladder was
still soft, so he continued to blow into
it until the air became very dense, and
thus made it hard.
Mary. Then air can be made smaller,
too, can it ? v
Sydney. Yes, Mary, air can be com- ;
pressed, or made smaller, as you term (
it, as well as expanded. Now I will i
tell how you may know that it is so.
Take a bladder that is not quite full of ,
air, and be sure it is tied up so tight j
that no more air can get in or out : then j
hold it near the fire, and it will soon be j
quite full and hard. This is because
the air hi it has expanded.
George. Now I know why the blad- j
der burst, which I blew full of air
and held to the fire to diy, the other
day : it was because the heated air
swelled so much that the bladder was
not strong enough to hold it.
Sydney. You are light, George, and
I am glad to see you so thoughtful and
ready to apply the knowledge you
derive from our conversation to the
explanation of things you before
thought so strange.
Emma. Will the air in the bladder
remain swelled all the time ?
Sydney. No, my dear; if you put it
in a cold place, it will soon become as
small as it was before it was heated,
Now I trust you all understand that
air will expand by heat and contract by
cold.
Mary. Yes, I think all of us under-
stand that now ; but I should like to
know how to prove that the heated air
rises, since we cannot see it go up.
Sydney. You know that if you hold
your hand over a burning candle or
lamp, that it will burn you when your
hand is many inches from the blaze ;
but you can hold your hand very near
the side of the flame without feeling
the heat. It is because hot air rises.
When a fire is made in a grate or fire-
place, it heats the air around it, and
this heated air rises up the chimney
and carries the smoke along with it. If
it was not so, chimneys would be but
of little use in conducting the smoke
from our rooms. There is a simple
experiment which will illustrate that
the cold air takes the place of warm and
light air.
George. What is that, uncle ? I am
fond of experiments.
Sydney. It is this : when the air in
a room is warmer than the air outside,
by opening the door a little, so as to
leave only a small crack, and holding a
lighted candle at the top, the flame
will be bent outward. This will show
you that the air is flowing out of the
room. Then, by placing the candle
near the floor the flame will be bent
toward the room, thus showing that a
current of air is rushing in to take the
place of that which goes out. If the
room is very warm, you can easily
perceive, from holding the candle in
these two currents, which is the warm
one and which one is cold.
Henry. Now I think I know why
the wind blew from all directions
toward the fire when Mr. Carter's
house burned; it was because the
heated air ascended so fast that the
cold air flowed in from all sides to fill
its place.
Sydney. A correct conclusion,
Henry; and I am pleased that you
understand the principles of wind so
well.
HISTORY OF A STONE.
311
HISTORY OF A STONE.
HAS a stone any history ? Aye truly,
and a marvellous one too. The very
object rejected by the divine as afford-
ing no evidences of design, becomes in
the hand of the geologist a fertile sub-
ject for illustrating the truths of his
science, and the being and wisdom of
the Deity. What says the author of
" Contemplations of Nature ?" " There
is no picking up a pebble by the brook-
side without finding all nature in c&a-
nection with it." Hear, too, Lavater,
about a less object than a stone :
" Every grain of sand is an immensity ;"
and our immortal Shakspere himself
talks of " Sermons in stones." Seeing,
then, that the object is one worthy of
notice, let me endeavour to tell you the
history of a stone.
But what stone shall I take ? Should
it be a paving stone or a piece of a school-
boy's slate, a pebble off the beach, or a
block of granite ? It has often oc-
curred to me that, if a stone could
speak, it would make a most enchant-
ing story-teller. I'm an old man now,
but I remember the first time I thought
so. It was in church and I was then a
little boy, Purworth is a little town in
Somersetshire ; indeed, you might
almost call it a very little town. Pur-
worth church, however, is not a very
little church, but it is a very old one.
Even Tom Dunker, the sexton, says to
visitors that he don't know its age, but
he has beard as the Romans had some
hand in it. Well, it dosn't matter, for
it is not a nice church. It has always,
I think, been a musty church. Every
Christmas, I think, it gets damper, and
smells worse, and makes one sleepier ;
and every time they get new parsons,
they get slower and duller ones. When
last I went there in 17 they had a
little man for parson. He wore spec-
tacles, and I was afraid of going to sleep
for fear he should see me and shout at
me, for he used to shout out in his
sermon now and then just as if he
wanted to waken the people that
were asleep ; but now they have a big
parson, who has light hair and looks quite
somniferous, and pretends to preach
extempore, but has his sermon written
in a little book like a pocket Bible.
Well, you will say, suppose he has,
what has that to do with stones ? I'll
tell you. Purworth church, as I said
before, is an old church ; and, therefore,
has itself disfigured with all sorts of
effigies, and carvings, and sepulchral
monuments. Just over our pew (I
call it ours still, though all who used
to sit in it are dead except myself, and
I don't live in Purworth) is a horrible
marble face, and, glancing about the
church on Christmas day, for I had
got tired of the Rev. Mr. Cove's mum-
bling I chanced to notice this stone
distortion. I knew it again, for I used
to dream of it, and would scream in
my sleep because it would go on en-
larging itself till my powers of vision
could only take in the wide extended
mouth. I fell again into the old train
of thought, and having gained in the
course of my life a good deal of insight
into it and other stones, I determined
to write a history of this stone face.
I don't mean to tell of all the bridals,
and funerals, and baptisms it may have
witnessed, nor relate the lives of any
of the infants it may have seen grow
into grey-headed old men, nor give a
memoir of the mason who carved it,
nor indeed tell any of the scenes which
may have passed before it since it
came into its present position, my
history has nothing to do with these ;
but, rolling back the tide of time
sweeping aside the dark curtain of the
past, I seek to show you, from the his-
tory of this stone, some of the won-
drous scenes of our world's antehominal
life.
And first, of what is the stone com-
posed ? One day I rubbed the dust off
the face, and found it wasn't white
marble, but a sort of mottled stone. I
remembered that in Chichester Cathe-
dral and in Westminsjter Abbey, I had
seen a similar substance employed ; so
when I got back to London, I inquired
where it was found and all about it, and
at length collected the information I am
about to give you.
Many years ago thousands and
millions of years before the first man
312
HISTORY OF A STONE.
trod our globe, and when the globe it-
self had travelled round the sun more
years than could be expressed by a
whole line of figures there flowed,
through a country which then existed
where the South of England and the
English Channel now are, a wide and
beautiful river. No oaks, or willows, or
poplars, were to be seen along its
banks, but groves of palms and ferns,
and forests of pine-trees. Vast rafts of
trees floated down, for it was a mighty
stream, hundreds of miles long, and
bore away with resistless force many
spoils from the lands it passed through.
Crocodiles and turtles frequented its
shores, and on the land lived reptiles
so horrible in form and so vast in size,
that I am afraid you will scarcely
credit me when ^ tell you of them.
One of them was called the Iguanodon.
Its body was as massive in its propor-
tions as that of the elephant. Its hind
legs were about seven feet in circum-
ference, its lower jaw was nearly four
feet long, and contained a large number
of fierce-looking teeth, while the whole
length of the monster was some seventy
feet.*
Nor was it, notwithstanding its im-
mense size, devoid of enemies; the
Megalosaurus, an animal about thirty
feet long, but of fierce carnivorous
habits, waged continual war on the
herbivorous Iguanodon ; fishes and
shells teemed in the waters of the river,
and dreadful reptiles, capable of flying,
running, swimming, or diving, hovered
round.
Such was one of the earlier scenes of
our world's history. But what became
of all these creatures ? In obedience to
a law of which we know scarcely more
than that it exists, they all died not
one of them lives now not one has
left a descendant. The bones of the
reptiles, or some of them, were carried
down by the river, sank to the bottom,
and were covered up by the silt and
mud with which its waters were charged;
the fishes became imbedded in a similar
deposit ; and, lastly, so did the shells.
* " Petrifactions and their Teachings." By
the late Dr. MantelL See p. 312.
Why do I put an emphasis on the
shells ? I'll tell you. Because the mud
in which these remains were embedded,
after resting where formed for myriads
of years, and having during that time
undergone strange chemical changes
having, in fact, become limestone or
marble, was at length raised up by some
internal movement of the crust of the
earth, and as STONE furnished busy man
with the materials for adorning his
temples, for beautifying his palaces, or
recording the praises and virtues of his
ancestors. In short, I found that the
stone face was composed of conglome-
rated masses of petrified shells of snails
which lived and died in the rivers that
flowed through a country inhabited by
the Iguanodon, and which now forms a
portion of the mighty empire of Britain.
Say, has the face in the old church
taught nothing ? Say, has a stone no
history ? W. POWELL, B.G.A.
VIOLETS. Mr. Tiley, of Bath, says,
" The tree violet is perfectly hardy, and
can be grown in open borders with suc-
cess ; it blooms freely twice a year, viz.,
from September to the end of October,
also from the beginning of March to the
end of May. The Neapolitan violet will
be found to thrive in perfection, if
treated in the way described in this
treatise, for frames and pots, not being
a hardy variety and seldom doing well
in the open ground. The Russian Su-
perb is also one of the finest of single
, violets, with very large flowers and long
stems and most delightful fragrance ;
j unfortunately it is not very hardy, but
I to have it in bloom in perfection during
the winter months it should be planted
out in a frame in the manner before
i noticed. The compost I always use and
j consider the best for potting violets is
; one barrow of decayed turfy loam, half
j a barrowful of rotten-leaf soil, one-third
j of a barrow of rotten manure, one-
fourth ditto of rough sand, and about
one peck of lime and soot, the whole
well turned and mixed together; the
j soot and lime will tend to the health of
I the plants, as well as destroy all insects,
' worms, &c."
THE FARMER.
313
THE FARMER.
LIME IN AGRICULTURE.
MUCH lias been written upon the use of
lime in agriculture, and yet the subject
does not seem to be fully understood :
soo\e persons need "line upon line,"
juSJ'38 some soils need lime upon lime.
Lime is an element in all organic
structures. The earthy portion of the
bones in the higher classes of animals
consists mostly of lime combined with
phosphoric acid. The shells of the
lower classes consist of lime combined
with carbonic acid. All parts of the
animal structure are derived from
vegetables. Vegetables, then, must
contain a considerable amount of lime,
and as lime is not a constituent of the
atmosphere, it must be contained in the
soil.
According to Johnson's table, one
bushel of wheat contains 6 and 2-5 oz.
of lime, a bushel of barley6 and 1-9 oz.,
oats 2 and 3-5 oz., a ton of turnips a
little more than 6 lb., a ton of potatoes
28 lb., and a ton of clover 63 lb.
These quantities vary considerably.
This is especially true of wheat. When
the soil is plentifully furnished with
lime wheat contains a larger per centage.
The skin of the grain is said to be
thinner, and the flour whiter and finer
and more glutinous.
In soils that consist largely of clay
the benefit of lime is most obvious. It
loosens the texture of the soil, and ren-
ders it less adhesive. It combines with
acids, and thus sets at liberty other
alkalies that may be contained in it.
It is beneficial to soils containing large
quantities of vegetable matter, as it ap-
pears to render such matters more
soluble, and more useful to the living
vegetation. Almost every crop that is
cultivated is improved by it. It is said
to be injurious to flax and hemp, ren-
dering their fibre thinner, and more
brittle. Compounds formed in the soil
by lime are comparatively insoluble.
Hence it is from three to six years be-
fore lime applied to the soil ia ex-
hausted. The hydrate of lime, or lime
slaked with water, acts the most
rapidly. Carbonate of lime produces
the most permanent effect upon the soil.
Light, dry, sandy soils, containing little
vegetable matter, are not those which
are most benefited by lime ; such soils
already contain an abundant supply.
There is one error with respect to the
vise of lime which 'should, by all means,
be avoided ; that is, the mixing of
lime with the manure heap, whether in
a fermenting or quiescent state. Am-
monia abounds in animal manures,
combined with phosphoric, carbonic,
muriatic, or other acids. These salts
of ammonia are decomposed by lime,
which combine with their acids and
expel the ammonia an element which
is of great importance to vegetation.
Probably the best methods of applying
lime are to spread it upon the soil before
planting, and mix it in with the harrow,
or to sow it as a top dressing, soon after
the coming up of the crop.
Vegetables that contain, in a perfect
state, a large amount of lime may attain
their full size without an adequate sup-
ply, but they will not be perfect plants.
Lime is an important ingredient in
clover ; it is found chiefly in its cuticle,
or covering membrane. If this grass is
grown upon a soil consisting mostly of
vegetable matter, and, under the stimu-
lus of animal manure, it will lodge or
break down from its own weight, for
want of the strength or stiffness which
a due proportion of lime would impart
to it. Potatoes contain a large per
centage of lime, and there can be no
doubt that for some years past those
that have been raised under circum-
stances that precluded a sufficient sup-
ply of lime, have been more liable to
disease than those that could obtain an
abundant supply of it.
Potatoes that have grown in low latd,
where the soil consists largely of de-
cayed vegetable matter, or which have
been raised by animal manures, have
been affected by the rot much more
than those which have been raised on
sandy soils, or by means of plaster,
which is sulphate of lime.
Vegetables that are perfect in their
organisation, that is, that contain all
their normal elements in due proportion,
311
HINTS TO VOCALISTS.
will better resist disease when exposed
to its causes, than those that are de-
ficient in any one element indeed, this
remark may be made more general it
may be applied to all living organised
beings. The more perfect they are in
structure, and the more normal in
growth and proportion, the more perfect
will be their health, and the greater
their power to resist disease. We hope
not to be misunderstood. We would
by no means intimate that the absence
of lime has anything to do with the
origin of the potato disease. We do not
know that diseased potatoes have been
subjected to chemical analysis, to ascer-
tain whether they are deficient in this
element, or that those varieties that are
most liable to disease have been com-
pared analytically with those that ai-e
less so. The solution of these questions
merits the attention of the agricultural
chemist, if it has not already received
it. But we have no doubt that the dry,
mealy potato contains more lime than
the wet, soggy one or that those that
have grown on diy land with an abun-
dant supply of liroe have rotted less
than those that have grown under other
circumstances.
The analysis of soils and the analysis
of plants requires to be carried on to-
gether.
The cultivator needs to know the
composition of the plants which he
proposes to cultivate, and the compo-
sition of the soil in which he proposes
to cultivate them, that he may j udge of
the adaptedness of the one to the other,
and be able to modify the soil to suit
the demands of the plants.
FRESH-WATER SHRIMPS.
WHEREVER they are found the weeds
abound with them. Take plenty of
this weed and place it, shrimps and all,
in a large wide-mouthed earthen jar.
Just cover the weed with water, and
tie a piece of cheese-cloth, or something
which will afford free ventilation, over
the top, and I have no doubt that they
will travel a considerable distance. Of
course the changing of the water a few
times during the journey would pro-
mote the certainty of their arriving in
good condition, as forty-eight hours is
rather a long journey. I should, I
think (supposing them to arrive alive
and healthy), keep them in some in-
closed place for a time, where they could,
have fresh water, and keep it well sup-
plied with fresh weed, until the stock
had materially increased, so as to insure
a fair chance of their being finally intro-
duced to the river in sufficient numbers
to do well and increase. Some per-
forated zinc plates or fine wire-sieving
let into the sides of a well-seasoned
trough or box, and defended on the
outside by something coarser, to pre-
vent the choking up of the apertures
(which, it is needless to* say, must be
kept clean and open), will answer for
this purpose, if sunk in a tolerably clear
and rapid part of the stream ; and the
stock may be kept up in the box to
feed the river with.
HINTS TO VOCALISTS.
SIT in a simple, unconstrained posture.
X ever turn up your eyes, or - swing
about the body ; the expression you
mean to give, if not heard and felt, will
never be understood by those foolish
motions, which are rarely resorted to
but by those who do not really feel
what they play. Brilliancy is a natural
gift, but great execution may be ac-
quired. Let it be always distinct, and
however loud you may wish it to be,
never thump. Practise in private
music far more difficult than that you
play in general society, and aim more
at pleasing than astonishing. Never
bore people with ugly music merely
because it is the work of some famous
composer; and do not let the pieces
you perform before people not pro-
fessedly scientific be too long. Be above
the vulgar folly of pretending that you
cannot play for dancing, for it proves
that if you are not disobliging you are
stupid. As regards singing, practise
two or three times a day, but at first
not longer than ten minutes at a time,
and let one of those times be before
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
breakfast. Exercise the extremities of
the voice, but do not dwell upon those
notes you touch with difficulty. Open
the mouth at all times, in the higher
notes especially, open it to the ears as if
smiling. Never dwell upon consonants.
When you intend to sing, read the
words and see that you understand
them so as to give the proper expres-
sion. Let all your words be heard ; it
is a great and common fault in English
singers to be indistinct. Children
should' never be allowed to sing much
or to strain their ,voices ; fifteen and
sixteen is soon enough to begin to prac-
tise constantly and steadily the two ex-
tremities of the voice. The voice is
said to be at its height at eight-and-
twenty, and to begin to decline soon
after forty. Never force the voice in
damp weather, or when in the least
degree unwell ; many often sing out of
tune at these times who do so at no
other. Take nothing to clear the voice
but a glass of cold water, and always
avoid pastry, rich cream, coffee, and
cake, when you intend to sing.
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
172. FIRE KINDLER. Take a
quart of tar, three pounds of resin ;
mek them, bring to a cooling tempera-
ture, mix with as much sawdust, with a
little charcoal added, as can be worked
in ; spread out while hot upon a board ;
when cold, break it into lumps of the
size of a large walnut. The com-
position will easily ignite from a match,
and burn with a strong blaze long
enough to kindle any wood that is fit
to burn.
173. SEEDS. Never retain the same
kinds of seeds too long upon the laud ;
at the end of three years it will generally
deteriorate, and ought to be changed ;
change of seed always produces a
change for the better in the crops.
Heavy clay-lands will longest retain the
seed pure ; light loams and peat soils
will sooner require the change. In se-
lecting seed it should be ascertained, if
possible, where, and on what kind of
Boil it grew ; and select a soil of different
quality to that on which it is to be
sown. Never select seed from a rich
soil to sow it on a poor ; but prefer that
from a poor soil to sow it on a rich.
Always select seed well cleaned and
pure, being strictly of the same kind ;
seeds of different kinds will vegetate at
different times, and ripen at different
seasons, which occasions serious loss and
further deterioration of sample.
174.FORCING FLOWERS.
Always begin with a low temperature,
such as a greenhouse ; and when the
growth has fairly begun, increase, until
you have given them sixty-five degrees
with impunity. If roses were brought
from the air, and placed in a temperature
of sixty-five degrees, they would be
spoiled ; but bring them into forty de-
grees, and increase five degrees a week,
and they will bloom finely. Rhododen-
drons, azaleas, and plants of all kinds,
may be gradually brought to flower
early ; and when flowering is done, finish
their growth without any check. Let
them rest in the shade out of doors, and
bring them into the house again early ;
they will force better every year with
less heat and greater beauty, but they
must be grown as carefully after the
bloom is over as they were in forcing,
and have plenty of water during the
bloom and the subsequent growth.
175. TO KEEP POTATOES. The
cellar is the best place for them, because
they are injured by wilting; but sprout
them carefully, if you want to keep
them. They never sprout but three
times ; therefore, after you have
sprouted them three times they will
trouble you no more.
176. COOKING ONIONS. It is a
good plan to boil onions in milk and
water ; it diminishes the strong taste of
that vegetable. It is an excellent way
of serving up onions, to chop them after
they are boiled, and put them in a stew-
pan, with a little milk, butter, salt, and
pepper, and let them stew about fifteen
minutes. This gives them a fine flavour,
and they can be served up very hot.
177. MORELLA CHERRY WINE.
Having picked off from their stalks
the ripest and soundest Morella cherries,
bruise them well, without breaking the
316
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
stones, and let the whole stand twenty-
four hours in an open vessel. Then
press out all the juice, and for every
gallon add two pounds of fine loaf
sugar. Put this wiue into a cask, and
when the fermentation ceases, stop it
close. Let it stand three or four
mouths, then bottle it, and in two
months more it will be fit to drink.
Some crack the stones, and hang them,
with the bruised kernels, in a bag, from
the bung, while the wine remains in the
cask.
178. IRISH CORDIAL. To every
pound of white currants stripped from
the stalks and bruised, put the very thin
rind of a large fresh lemon, and a quarter
of an ounce of ginger, well pounded and
sifted. Pour on these one quart of
good old whisky ; mix the whole up
thoroughly, and let it stand for twenty-
four hours in a new well-scalded stone
pitcher, or deep pan (crock), covered
closely from the air. Strain it off ; stir
in it, until dissolved, a pound and a
quarter of pounded sugar, and strain it
again and bottle it. This is an Irish
recipe.
179. TO PRESERVE CIDER IN
BOTTLES. Good corks are highly
necessary, and if soaked before used in
scalding water, they will be more pliant
and serviceable ; and by laying the bot-
tles so that the liquor may always keep
the cork wet and swelled, will much
preserve it.
180. SYRUP OF GINGER. Steep
an ounce and a half of beaten ginger in
a quart of boiling water, closely covered
up for twenty-four hours ; then, strain-
ing off the infusion, make it into a syrup,
by adding, at least, two pounds of fine
loaf sugar, dissolved, and boiled up in
a hot water bath.
181. TO CURE THE DISEASE IN
APPLE-TREES. Brush off the white
down, clear off the red stain under-
neath it, and anoint the places infected
with a liquid mixture of train-oil and
Scotch snuff.
182. TO PRESERVE FISHING-
RODS. Oil your rods in summer with
linseed oil, drying them in the sun, and
taking care the parts lie flat : they
should be often turned, to prevent
them from warping. This will render
them tough, and prevent their being
worm-eaten ; in time they will acquire
a lit-autitul brown colour. Should they
get wet, which swells the wood, and
makes it fast in the sockets, turn the
part round over the flame of a caudle a
short time, and it will be easily set at
liberty.
183. THE BEST SEASON FOR
PAINTING HOUSES. The outside
of buildings should be painted during
autumn or winter. Hot weather injures
the paint by drying in the oil too
quickly ; then the paint will easily rub
off. But when the paint is laid on
during cold weather, it hardens in
drying, and is firmly set.
184. TO KEEP INSECTS OUT OF
BIRD-CAGES. Tie up a little sulphur
in a silk bag, and suspend it in the
cage. For mocking-birds, this is essen-
tial to their health ; and the sulphur
will keep all the red ants and other in-
sects from cages of all kinds of birds.
Red ants will never be found in a closet
or drawer, if a small bag of sulphur is
kept constantly in these places.
185. TEA, ECONOMICALLY.
Young hyson is supposed to be a more
profitable tea than hyson ; but though
the quantity to a pound is greater, it
has not so much strength. In point of
economy, therefore, there is not much
difference between them. Hyson tea
and soxichong mixed together, half and
half, is a pleasant beverage, and is more
healthy than green tea alone. Be sure
that water boils before it is poured
upon tea. A teaspoonful to each per-
son, and one extra thrown in, is a good
rule. Steep a few minutes.
186. SIMPLE REMEDIES FOR
SCARLET FEVER. "Open the bow-
els regularly every day with some
mild aperient medicine, such as castor
oil, senna, &c., and keep the patient at
rest and comfortably warm ; sponge the
surface with tepid water two or three
times a day ; while it is hotter than
natural, admit fresh air ; live on a
bland diet, such as a cupful of arrow-
root, several times a-day ; toast-water
for common drink. Gargle made of
strong sage tea, honey and alum, or
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED
317
borax, may be used from the com-
mencement, if the throat is effected."
Dr. T. P. Hereford.
187. CORNISH AND DEVON-
SHIRE MODE OF MAKING BUT-
TER. Put yesterday's milk in a pan of
iron, tin, or earthenware (usually about 9
inches deep, and 14 to 18 inches in diame-
ter) ; place on a slow fire ; do not allow
it to boil ; but as soon as nearly boiling
(which should require two hours), re-
move from the fire, and place on cold
stone for 12 or 18 hours. Then skim
the cream and make the butter with the
hand, which will occupy from 10 to 40
minutes, according to circumstances
well known to dairymen. The butter
made in this manner, though, perhaps,
greater in quantity, is not, in my judg-
ment, quite equal in richness and
flavour to that made from raw cream.
188. MOURNING. Mourning for
parents is usually worn with crape for six
months, afterwards without crape for
the same period. For a brother or
sister six months ; but in many cases a
longer period. For an uncle or aunt
three months ; the same for a first or
second cousin. No rule can be given
with regard to returning mourning
visits ; it is, however, proper to wait a
week or two after the calamity.
189. CLOTHING OF INFANTS.
The principle laid down with regard to
the clothing of sleeping infants may be
applied to that of waking ones. Com-
fort must be studied ; looseness and
freedom of action for the chest and
limbs must be attended to. The child
must wear worsted footikins in cold
weather, and, if it have a cool head, a
calico cap in particularly cold weather
a flannel one. But, as a general rule, a
child's head requires to be kept cool,
without a cap at all after the first few
months, or when the weather is warm.
When the head seems too warm, it
must even be sponged with cold water.
In the child the brain is soft and deli-
cate in structure ; it is in a state of de-
velopment more rapid even than that of
of the other organs of the body. It has
been already stated that organs are
most prone to disease when in action ;
hence children are particularly prone to
diseases of the brain.
190. PAPER FOR ROOMS. Pale
coloured paper hangings will certainly
be found the best. Rooms hung with,
or painted, scarlet, are rich but very
dismal and invariably look less than
if adorned with a light tint. They re-
quire also to be illuminated more and
much earlier in the evening, than those
with pale colours. Towards dusk
scarlet appears black ; let any person
doubting this try the fact, by wearing a
scarlet cloak or shawl, and look at it as
the shades of twilight advance. Yellow,
and buff, and pink, can be scarcely
better discriminated by candlelight than
can blue and green.
191. SERVANTS. Never leave a
good place because a little fault has
been found with your work ; it is a
very great injury to a domestic to
change her place often ; she will soon
have the name of being bad-tempered,
and besides, she cannot gain friends ;
you must remain some time in a
family before they will become attached
to you. And if you are, as is generally
the case, out of employment for a week
before you go to a new place, you lose
your time, and often have to pay for
board too : thus a loss of two or three
weeks' wages is incurred, because you
will not bear to be reproved, even for a
fault. It is better to remain and behave
so well that your mistress will acknow-
ledge your excellence ; which she will be
pretty sure to do, if she finds you try to
please her.
192. HERBS. Every housekeeper
who possesses a patch of ground, though
ever so small, should have a few of the
herbs which are in constant request for
cookery or garnish; and this may be
done mixed with flowers in borders,
without in the least detracting from the
beauty of a parterre. By this means
the herbs will always be, at least, fresh,
and in the greatest perfection, and the
expense is so small (after the first pur-
chase of the seed or roots) as to be
scarcely calculable. Let the housekeeper
look over her. greengrocer's bills, and
she will be surprised at the aggregate
charge for herbs and such small gear as
horse-radish, fennel, &c., in a month or
a year.
193. GARDEN DRAINING,
-Who-
318
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
ever contemplates planting out speci-
mens of choice plants, about which
there is the least doubt of hardiness,
cannot be too careful of rendering the
situation for them well drained: all
superabundant moisture should pass
through the soil readily, and be speedily
carried away by the drainage below.
And even with plants, whose hardiness
is thoroughly established, attention to
drainage will greatly add to the success.
194. FEED CATTLE REGULAR-
LY. We find that very many of our
farmers feed their cattle more than they
require to keep them in good condition,
particularly oxen that do not work, and
horses that stand in the stable most of
the time, except occasionally, when the
owner takes him out to go a short trip,
or to do a light job. " Keep Dobbin
eating," says the father, and the boys
follow his injunctions implicitly, and
his rack is replenished with hay as often
as the father or sons pass by his stall,
till he thinks it is a matter of course to
have an additional amount of feed
placed before him every time he hears
anyone in the barn, and if not attended
too, he gives* them a call to quicken
their memory. Much hay in this way
is wasted the horse selecting only a
little of the most tempting, after his
appetite is satisfied, and either pulling
the remainder through the rack, under
his feet, or else breathing on it so much as
to render it unpalatable to him. Stock
of all kinds should have their regular
meals at fixed hours as much as a man,
and be allowed to masticate and digest
what they have eaten in the intervals.
If they are continually fed at all hours
and times, they will be continually ex-
pecting something, and consequently
kept uneasy. They will thrive better
on a less amount of hay and grain by
the first method of feeding than by the
last, and with less labour of attendance
from the keeper.
195. GENERAL MANAGEMENT
OF FRAME PLANTS. In the case
of frame plants, or plants requiring less
warmth than a greenhouse affords, the
preparation of the frame is a most im-
portant matter. The bottom should be
firm and impervious to water, so that it
may be kept as dry as possible, for
which end it should slope in any one
direction, so that water spilled in
\v;itiu-ing the plants may run into a gut-
ter to be carried away outside the frame.
The pots should stand upon a trelli* a
few inches from the floor; and this
trellis is best made of narrow slips of
wood, placed a little space apart. The
sashes should be removed from such
plants, whenever the temperature is as
high as thirfcy-four or five, except it be
raining (in which case they must be
kept on to keep the plants dry), or the
wind is very keen and nipping. In
these cases, the sashes should be tilted
in such a way as to admit as little of
the wet or wind as possible. As the
mild spring weather draws on, such
plants as these require no protection
whatever : at that season they bear our
climate. Glenn ?/.
196. QUACK MEDICINES. All
dabbling in medicines is bad, with
children as well as with adults. It may
be laid down as a general rule, that no
medicine is to be given without the
order or sanction of a medical prac-
titioner. In this country people are
disposed to dose themselves too much,
and at random. They go to the next
" chemist and druggist's" for a " bottle
of stuff," when they are ill. They
might as well go to a dealer in artists'
colours to have their portraits painted.
There is reason for believing that a
great many lives are sacrificed by per-
sons trusting to treatment by druggists
in the earlier stages of illness. In fact,
a statistical reckoning at Manchester
showed that a great many children
perished through such a custom. It is
particularly necessary that a proper
medical authority should be consulted
about little children. They cannot
speak, and their complaints are only to
be understood by a scientific investiga-
tor. As diseases in infancy often invade
suddenly and make rapid progress, so
are they capable, too, in many cases, of
being suddenly checked. The ad-
ministration of "sleeping stuffs" to
children to keep them quiet is so posi-
tively injurious, that it cannot be
spoken of in too strong terms of con-
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
319
damnation. In manufacturing places,
where mothers have to leave their
children much, the extent to which the
poor little things are poisoned outright,
or made sickly for life, it is painful to
contemplate. Opium is the basis of
"quieting" medicines. In a ose of
five grains it has killed an adult. But,
besides, it has so peculiarly powerful
an action on children, that medical men
venture only to give an infant the
fiftieth or sixtieth part of the dose they
would prescribe for a grown person in
similar cases.
397. DIRECTIONS FOR PRUNING
VINES. 1st. In pruning, always cut
upwards, and in a sloping direction.
2nd. Always leave an inch of blank
wood beyond a terminal bud, and let
the cut be on the opposite side of the
bud. 3rd. Prune so as to leave as few
wounds as possible, and let the surface
of every cut be perfectly smooth. 4th.
In cutting out an old branch, prune it
even with the parent limb, that the
wound may heal quickly. 5th. Prune
so as to obtain the quantity of fruit de-
sired on the smallest number of shoots
possible. 6th. Never prune in frosty
weather, nor when a frost is expected.
7th. Never prune in the months of
March, April, or May ; pruning in either
of these months causes bleeding, and oc-
casions thereby a wasteful and injurious
expenditure of sap. 8th. Let the gene-
ral autumnal pruning take place as soon
after the 1st of October as the gather-
ing of the fruit will permit. Lastly.
Use a pruning-knife of the best descrip-
tion, and let it be, if possible, as sharp
as a razor.
198. PLANTING SHRUBS AND
TREES. When specimen trees and
shrubs are to be introduced on the
lawn or on prominent parts of the
shrubbery, the preparation of the soil
should be attended to with judicious
care. In planting, the base of the stem
should be quite even with, or in most
cases above, the ordinary level of the
ground ; and when planted the tree
should appear as though a little mound
had been raised around the stem, but
this must by no means actually be the
case. The appearance should result
from keeping the base of the trees ele-
vated, and the soil being raised in such
a manner as just to cover the roots.
Generally speaking, shrubs in planting
should be less elevated than trees. Bu t
no general rule can be given in this
respect, except that in dry soils the ele-
vation must be less than in moist st-
ations, because in the latter the roots
are more liable to suffer from an excess
of water; in dry soils, on the other
hand, the trees are sometimes liable to
suffer from drought when too much ele-
vated.
199. ACORNS AS CHIMNEY OR-
NAMENTS. Half fill two hyacinth-
glasses (white) with clear water, and
having procured two acorns, thoroughly
ripe, remove the cups from the fruit
and pass a needle and thread through
that end of the acorn which fitted the
cup, draw the needle through a bung or
cork, which must fit very tightly into
the neck of the glass ; tie the thread on
the top of the bung long enough to sus-
pend the acorn close to, but not to
touch the water, and drop a little seal-
ing wax on the thread where the needle
has perforated the cork, so that all air
may be excluded. During the early part
of the winter the acorns will begin to
grow, and when the green leaves touch
the cork they may be planted in the
ground : this method of early treatment
will facilitate and hasten the growth
three years. We should have stated
that the glasses are to be placed on a
mantel-shelf in a room wherein a fire is
burning during the day (it is not re-
quired at night) ; also, that if the water
should become green or turbid, it must
be changed, otherwise they may be left
undisturbed from the time they are
placed in the glasses until they are
planted.
200. WINTERING ROSES. For
the last five years I have wintered my
roses, and with the best success, on
the following plan. 'As soon as the
frost or unfavourable weather sets in
in the autum, I remove the more tender
varieties carefully from the soil, and
place them in a frame on a dung-be d,
plunging them in sawdust, with a
tolerable space between them, and
320
ENQUIRIES ANSWERED.
leave them uncovered. But on the
cold increasing, the frame is covered
with planks, and in severe frost, over
these is placed a covering of leaves.
As often, however, as the cold mode-
rates, and the thermometer reaches the
freezing point or higher, the covering
is removed, and the plants exposed to
the atmosphere. The gradual decom-
position of the sawdust producing a
genial moisture, encourages the de-
velopment of a quantity of fresh and
vigorous roots, which would hardly
have been formed had the plants been
left in the cold frosty soil ; and at the
same time acting as manure, furnishes
them with support On the approach
of mild weather in spring the plants are
taken to the place they are to occupy
during the summer. The holes are
dug some time before beginning to
plant, and filled with the soil in which
the roses are intended to grow. For
planting out, a cloudy, and, if possible,
a rainy day should be selected. This
simple procedure insures a vigorous
growth and abundant bloom. I have
never found any kind of rose injured
by it, either from damp in the winter or
from being moved every year. Even tea-
roses, though so delicate, are uninjured.
201. PLANTS IN BALCONIES.
It is always best to have boxes for bal-
conies, as when the pots are set without
boxes on the leads, which soon become
very hot from the sun, the roots of the
plants are parched and withered up;
and a similar effect takes place from the
drying effect of the wind, when the pots
are set on the bars of an open balcony.
This is one of the reasons why plants
bought in the streets and set in a bal-
cony so very seldom last long ; and why
the buds so often drop off without ex-
panding : they are grown in very small
pots to save room : and when they are
removed from the pits, in which they
were kept in the nursery, to the leads
or bars of a balcony, it is almost impos-
sible to keep them alive, unless they are
kept in boxes, or, as a substitute, in
double pots. Boxes are, however, much
the best; and even wooden ones, if
made of good yellow deal, will last six
or seven years, if not left out to rot in
the winter. They should, indeed, be
put away as soon as the family goes out
of town. The plants which will bear
exposure in balconies may be thus men-
tioned : Alyssum saxatile, . in pots ;
Arabis albida, in pots; Jonquils, in
pots ; Paper Narcissus ; Polyanthus
Narcissus; Pyrus (Cydonia) japonica, in
pots ; Stocks, of various kinds ; Wall-
flowers, in pots ; Yellow-berried holly,
in pots. The following kinds having
been forced into flower, though they
may be put into balconies, will require
care : Acacias, of various kinds; Cine-
rarias ; Genista canariensis ; Geraniums
(Pelargoniums) ; Hydrangea hortensis ;
Hydrangea japonica; Linum fragans;
Roses.
202. CUCUMBER FORCING. Cu-
cumbers in the middle of March, or
sooner, may be had where a well-regu-
lated heating apparatus exists, and this
will produce all the effects desired,
provided one can command the ne-
cessary amount of heat, both bottom
and top. The latter being easiest at-
tained, must not be allowed to range
above 70 for cucumbers, and a certain
amount of humidity given to it by
placing vessels of water in such a way
as to intercept the currents of dry
heated air on its way into the pit or
house ; or, if the pipes be open and ex-
posed, vessels standing on them will
easily effect that object. In raising cu-
cumber or melon plants, a rather brisk
bottom heat is required, and that not
too drying nor yet too humid ; at the
early period required for the fruit plants
one had better plunge the pots con-
taining the seeds in some fermenting
heap, and, just as the cotyledons are
breaking through the soil, remove them
to the pit, where the atmosphere is
more pure; a little contrivance will
enable one to give them all the available
bottom heat, about 80S or 85* not
being too much even 90 Q will do no
harm, provided other things are fa-
vourable. Melon plants, to plant in
the pit in May, may be reared in a dung
frame prior to that time veiy easily ;
or they may be brought forward with
the cucumbers, as at that period the
seed vegetates and the plants grow
with less trouble than earlier. Cottage
Gardener.
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY ALL
ROUND OUR HOUSE.
IN order to complete our Journey of
Discovery within the limits of our
volume, we must now take a rapid
survey of the various objects within
our house that remain to be examined.
And that we may crowd the greatest
store of knowledge into the; small com-
pass that remains for us, we will at
once adopt the catechetical form of in-
vestigation.
What is glass ?
Glass is a transparent solid, formed
by the melting of siliceous (whitish
stone) and alkaline matter (ashes de-
rived from burning plants).
How -was glass discovered ?
By accident. A merchant ship being
driven upon the coast at the mouth of
the river Belus, the crew were com-
pelled to light fires and cook their meals
upon the beach. The ship was laden
with natron, a mineral, and the crew
having used some lumps of this sub-
stance to prop up their kettles, were
surprised, when the fires were extin-
guished, to find beautifully clear stones
among the cinders.
When was the manufacture of ylass
first commenced in England ?
In 1557, when it was first made in
Crutchedfriars, and fine articles of flint
glass were soon afterwards made in the
Savoy House, Strand. In 1635 the art
of glass making was greatiy benefited
by the use of coal fuel instead of wood.
The first sheets of blown glass for look-
glasses and coach windows were made
in 1673, at Lambeth, by Venetian
artisans, under the patronage of the
Duke of Buckingham.
Thus we find that the most trifling-
incidents may, if properly observed, lead
to extraordinary results. Suppose that
the men who lighted the fires upon the
shore had left unnoticed the fact of
transparent stones being found among
the cinders, who knows how many
years might have rolled away before
mankind derived the blessing of light
transmitted through a body impervious
to air and water, but as transparent as
the air itself? Let our fellow travellers,
therefore, well mark whatever may fall
No. 11.
under their observation, and deem no
incident in life too trivial to be noted
down and well considered.
At one time windows consisted
simply of apertures in the walls for the
admission of light, and the rude shut-
ters that were employed to exclude the
air occasionally were called wind doors
hence we derive the present term of
windows.
When were looking-glasses first intro-
duced ?
In the year 1300 they were made only
in Venice, but in 1673 they were made
in London by Venetian workmen.
How did people manage when there
were no mirrors ?
They used plates of polished metal.
In the Mosaic writings we find that the
minors used by the Jewish women
were made of highly polished brass.
What is the bright matter at the bade
of the mirror ?
It is tinfoil rubbed over with quick-
silver. It is applied by pressure on
large tables properly constructed,
and the tables are gradually sloped to
allow the superfluous quicksilver to
dropoff. It takes about a month to
drain and dry a large mirror, and from
eighteen to twenty days to perfect one
of moderate size.
What is quicksilver ?
It is a metal remarkable for its fluid-
ity and for its lustre. Also for its sen-
sitiveness to atmospheric changes, and
the readiness with which it combines
with other metals. It is also called
Mercury, and in various states of pre-
paration is administered as medicine,
under the form of Calomel, &c.
What is tinfoil ?
It is a manufacture of tin in sheets
as thin as tissue paper. Tin is a metal
which, in its pure state, is nearly as
bright as silver, and in hardness it is
intermediate between gold and lead.
Combined with copper it forms the
bronze which covers the face of the
time-piece, or the stand of the lamp, or
the branches of the chandelier. It
covers the iron, of which the saucepans
and the Dutch oven are made, giving
them a bright and pleasing appearance,
and protecting the iron from rust. It
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
is used in the form of nitrate of tin
to supply a scarlet dye which enriches
our carpets, our curtains, and the
dresses of the ladies of our house.
Mixed with lead it forms pewter, and is
moulded into many useful kinds of ves-
sels : a compound of tin and gold gives
fine crimson and purple colours to
stained glas* : and enamel is made by
fusing this with the materials of flint
What is iron ?
Iron is a metal of bluish grey colour,
but is capable of acquiring a brilliant
surface by polishing. In a moist atmos-
phere it is readily acted upon by the
oxygen of the atmosphere, which pro-
duces a brown coating called rust. It
is, perhaps, of all the metals, the most
useful. It is capable of being drawn
out into wires of any desired strength
or fineness ; of being rolled into plates
or sheets; of being bent in every direc-
tion ; of being sharpened, hardened, and
softened at pleasure. It supplies the
sword of war and the ploughshare of
peace. We see it in the scythe, the
pruning hook, the chisel, the chain, the
anchor, the compass, the cannon, the
boom.
Look through our house, and see the
services that are rendered to us by iron.
It holds the fire in its arms that it may
not destroy our dwelling ; it stirs the
fire up when it becomes sluggish; it
takes hold of the hot flakes that fall
from the hearth, and restores them to
the grate ; it holds our food while it is
being cooked. It cuts our food into
convenient pieces. It bears our doors
upon hinges. It bolts our doors and
windows at night, and locks up our
treasures. It forms part of the works
of watches, and clocks, and even enters
into the composition of our blood.
W/ten was iron discovered ?
The discovery of iron was very an-
cient. It is said to have been found on
Mount Ida, by the Dactyles, owing to
the forests of the mount having been
burnt by lightning, 1432 years before
Christ. And if this account, which is
not improbable, be true, it is remarkable
that two of the most useful substances
known glass and iron should have
been accidentally discovered. British
iron was cast in Sussex in 1543. Before
the introduction of iron, wood and bone
were used for many purposes for which
iron is now employed.
What is stid '.
Steel is a preparation of iron, which
undergoes a process of hardening by
being heated in charcoal furnaceso f
peculiar construction.
What is copper ?
Copper is also a metal which was
known to the ancients. It was named
from the island of Cyprus, where it was
extensively smelted by the Greeks.
There are about thirteen different
species of copper. From its peculiar
qualities, this metal has been employed
in the manufacture of various articles
for domestic use. But it is easily acted
upon by vinegar and by fat, to both of
which substances it impails poisonous
properties. It is very desirable, there-
fore, that copper vessels should not be
employed in culinary purposes ; or, if
they are employed, they should be
tinned to prevent the action of the
copper upon the food, and even
when tinned they should be fre-
quently examined and kept scrupu-
lously clean. In tinning copper uten-
sils the workmen should be cautioned
to use only the best tin, as inferior tin
is adulterated with lead, which would
act as injuriously upon the food as the
copper itself.
What is lead ?
Lead is a metal known so anciently
that it is mentioned in the Book of
Moses. It is a very useful metal, from
its cheapness and its ductility. But, as
we have already intimated, care should
be observed in the purposes to which it
is applied. It is xxnfit for water-pipes
and cisterns, for vats to contain any
kind of liquor, and for culinary vessels
of any description. It should not be
used, even as spoons, for it is apt to
impart poisonous properties to every-
thing it comes in contact with.
What is zinc ?
Zinc is a metal harder than lead,
somewhat similar in appearance, but
less objectionable in its application to
domestic uses. Zinc is therefore ex-
A JOU11NEY OF DISCOVERY.
323
tensively used for making water-
cisterns, baths, spouts, pipes, plates for
doors, roof-coverings, &c. It is also
variously used as a medicine. (For the
medicinal use, and also the poisonous
properties of metals, refer to Enquire
Within).
What is brass ?
Brass is a mixture, or alloy of copper
and zinc.
What is gold ?
Gold is a metal distinguished for its
beautiful colour, its great density, its
wonderful ductility and malleability.
It can be beaten into leaves the
282,000th part of an inch thick. The
various uses in the manufacture of jewel-
lery, and in ornamental works that
adorn our homes, are too well known
to need much description. In the
form of money it has been found
necessary to harden gold with an alloy
of copper. The first record we have of
gold being coined in England, is A.D.
1257. The first regular gold pieces
were struck in the reign of Edward
III. Guineas were first coined in 1673.
Gold wire was first made in Italy, A.D.
1350. One ounce of gold may be con-
verted into leaf sufficient to gild a
silver wire above 1,300 miles in length.
A piece of gold wire the eighteenth of
an inch thick, will bear a weight of
SOOlb. without breaking. A single
grain of gold may be beaten into a leaf
of fifty -six square inches.
What is mahogany ?
Mahogany is the wood of trees
brought chiefly from South America
and Spain. The finest kind is imported
from St. Domingo, and an inferior kind
from Honduras. We all know the
beauty of mahogany wood. But we do
not all know that mahogany was first
employed in the repair of some of Sir
Walter Raleigh's ships at Trinidad in
1597. The discovery of the beauty of
its grain for f uniture and cabinet work
was accidental. Dr. Gibbons, a physi-
cian of eminence, was building a house
in King-street, Covent-garden ; his bro-
ther, captain of a West Indiuman, had
brought over some planks of mahogany
as ballast, and he thought that the wood
might be used up in his brother's build-
ing, but the carpenters found the wood
too hard for their tools, and objected
to use it. Mrs. Gibbons shortly after-
wards wanted a small box made, so the
Doctor called upon his cabinet-maker
and ordered him to make a box out of
some wood that lay in his garden. The
cabinet-maker also complained that the
wood was too hard. But the Doctor
insisted upon its being used, as he
wished to preserve it as a memento of
his brother. When the box was com-
pleted, its fine colour and polish at-
tracted much attention ; and he, there-
fore, ordered a bureau to ba made of it.
This was done, and it presented so fine
an appearance that the cabinet-maker
invited numerous persons to see it,
before it was sent home. Among the
visitors was her Grace the Duchess of
Buckingham, who immediately begged
some of the wood from Mr. Gibbons,
and employed the cabinet-maker to
make her a bureau also. Mahogany
from this time became a fashionable
wood, and the cabinet-maker, who at
first objected to use it, made a great
success by its introduction.
What is rosewood ?
Rosewood is the wood of a tree
which grows in Brazil. It is, generally
speaking, too dark for large articles of
furniture, but is admirably adapted for
smaller ones. It is expensive, and the
hardness of the wood renders the cost of
making articles of it very high.
Respecting the other woods used in
the manufacture of furniture, we have
nothing special to say, except, perhaps,
of the oak the emblem of our native
land. This tree yields a most useful
and durable wood, and as it not only
defends our country by supplying our
" wooden walls," but gives to us the
floors of our houses, furnishes our good
substantial tables, and comfort ible arm
chairs, it will bo well for us to know a
few facts about this celebrated tree.
It is said that there are no les than
one hundred and fifty species of the
oak. The oak grows from tho acorn,
and it would not be an un poetical
fancy, for eveiy one possessing a
spot of ground where an onk may
grow, to plant an acorn and to watch
3C4
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
it? development, or to try the experi-
ment recommended in The Jnten-ii u\
319, for the growth of a youug oak in a
nth glass. The acorn should be
gathered in the autumn, when quite
ripe. The importance of the growth
of oaks may be gathered from the fact,
that the building of a 70-gun ship
would take 40 acres of timber. The
building of a 70-guu ship is estimated
<t about 70,000. Oak trees at-
taiu to the age of 1,000 years. The
oak enlarges its circumference from 10 A
inches to 12 inches in a year. The
interior of a great oak at Allonville,
in Normandy, has been converted into
a place of Worship. An oak at Kid-
dington, served as a village prison. A
large oak at Salcey, was used as a cat-
tle fold ; and others have served as
tanks, tombs, prisons, and dwelling-
houses.
What is Coffee?
Coffee is the berry of the coffee
plant, which was a native of that part
of A rabia called Yemen, but it is now
extensively cultivated in India, Java,
the West Indies, Brazil, &c.
The first coffee-house in London
was opened in 1652, under the follow-
ing circumstances. A Turkey merchant
named Edwards, having brought along
with him from the Levant, some bags
of coffee, and a Greek servant who
was skilful in making it, his house was
thronged with visitors to see and taste
this new beverage. Being desirous to
.gratify his friends without putting him-
self to inconvenience, he allowed his
servant to open a coffee-house, and to
-sell coffee publicly.
Here we have another illustration of
the great results springing from trifling
causes. Coffee soon became so exten-
sively used that taxes were imposed
upon it. In 1660 a duty of 4d. a gal-
lon was imposed upon all coffee made
and sold. Before 1732 the duty upon
coffee was 2s. a pound ; it was after-
wards reduced to Is. 6d., at which it
yielded to the revenue, for many years,
10,000 per annum. The duty has
been gradually reduced, and the con-
sumption has gone on increasing, until
at last above 25,000,000 of pounds are
consumed annually ! Fancy this great
ivsuk springing from a "friendly coffee
that assembled in the year 1652.
\Yliat is Tea?
TIM is the leaf of a shrub (Thm
dis. Lin.) The plant usually grows to
the height of from 3 to 6 feet, and
i resembles in appearance the well-known
myrtle. It bears a blossom not unlike
that of the common dog-rose. The
climate most congenial to it is that
between the 25th and 33rd degrees of
latitude. The growth of good tea pre-
vails chiefly in China, and is confined
to a few provinces. The green and blarfc
teas are mere varieties, depending upon
the cultui'e, time of gathering, mode
of di'ying, &c. Coffee was used in ih i*
| country before tea. In 1664, it is re-
corded, the East India Company bought
21b. 2oz. of coffee as a present for the
king. In the year 1832, there were
101,687 licensed tea dealers in the
united kingdom. Green tea was first
used in 1715. A dispute with America
about the duty upon tea led to the
American war, out of which arose Ame-
rican independence ! The consumption
of tea throughout the whole world is
estimated at above 52,000,000 lb., of
which the consumption of Great Britain
alone amounts to 30,000,000. Really
we are a tea-loving people.
What is Chocolate ?
It is a cake prepared from the cocoa
nut. The nut is first roasted like coffee,
then it is reduced to powder and mixed
with water, the paste is then put into
moulds and hardened. The properties
are very healthful, but its consump-
tion is very insignificant, as compared
with tea or coffee. The cocoa tree
grows chiefly in the West Indies and
South America.
What is Cocoa ?
Cocoa is also a preparation from the
! seeds or beans of the Cocoa tree. But
the best form of cocoa for family use is
to obtain the beans pure, as they are
now commonly sold ready for use, and
to break them and then grind them in
a large coffee mill.
What is Chicory ?
Chicory is the root of the common
endive, dried and roasted as coffee, for
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
325
which it is used as a substitute. Some
persons prefer the flavour of chiccory
admixed with coffee. But very oppo-
site opinions prevail respecting the
qualities of chiccory. We believe it to
be perfectly healthful, and attribute
the prejudice that prevails against it,
to its having been used, for its cheap-
ness, to adulterate coffee.
What is Sur/ar ?
Sugar is a sweet granulated substance,
which may be derived from many ve-
getable substances, but the chief source
of which is the sugar cane. The other
chief sources that supply it are the
maple, beet-root, birch, parsnip, &c.
It is extensively used all over the
world. Sugar is supposed to have
been known to the ancient Jews. It
was found in the East Indies by Ne\v-
cheus, Admiral of Alexander, 325 B. c.
It was brought into Europe from Asia.
The art of sugar refining was first
practised in England, in 1659, and
sugar was first taxed by name by James
II., 1685. Sugar is derived from the
West Indies, Brazil, Surinam, Java,
Mauritius, Bengal, Siam, the Isle de
Bourbon, &c. &c. Before the intro-
duction of sugar to this country, honey
was the chief substance employed in
making sweet dishes ; and long after
the introduction of sugar it was used
only in the houses of the rich. The con-
sumption in England in 1700 reached
only 10,000 tons ; in 1834 it had reached
180,000 tons. The English took pos-
session of the West Indies in 1672, and j
in 1646 began to export sugar. In |
1676 it is recorded that 400 vessels aver- |
aging 150 tons were employed in the
sugar trade of Barbadoes. Jamaica was
discovered by Columbus, and was occu-
pied by the Spaniards, from whom it was
taken by Cromwell, in 1656, and has
since continued in our own possession.
When it was conquered there were
only three sugar plantations upon it.
But they rapidly increased. Until the
abolition of slavery in the West Indies,
the production of sugar was almost
exclusively limited to slave labour.
What a reflection that our sweetest
cup should be a yoke of bitterness to
the slave ; and that the great field of
commerce which has enriched princes
and nobles should be a source of misery
to millions of our own race !
What is Salt?
It is a natural product, called by
chemists the chloride of sodium. It is
found in immense masses in this and
other countries, requiring only to be
dug up and reduced to powder. The
principal salt mines are at Wielitska,
in Poland, Catalonia in Spain, Alte-
monte in Calabria, Loowur, in Hungary,
in Asia, and Africa, and in this country
in Cheshire, Staffordshire, and Wor-
cestershire. The mines in the neigh-
bourhood of Northwich, in Cheshire,
have been worked since the year 1670.
The Cheshire salt is not found suffi-
ciently pure for use. It is therefore
dissolved in sea water, \\hichis after-
wards evaporated. In some countries
salt is obtained by the evaporation of
sea water. Salt duties were first im-
posed in 1702. Before 1823, the duty
upon salt amounted to as much as 30
per ton. It is estimated that each per-
son consumes 221bs. of salt annually.
WJial facts of interest are there re-
specting Bread?
From the sacred writings we learn
that unleavened bread was common in
the days of Abraham. In the earlier
periods of our own history, people had
no other method of making bread than
by roasting corn, and beating it in
mortars, then welting it into a kind of
coarse cake. In 1596, Rye bread and
Oatmeal formed a considerable part of
the diet of servants, even in great fami-
lies. In the time of Charles the First,
barley bread was the chief food of the
people. In many parts of England it
was more the custom to make bread at
home than at present. In 1804, there
was not a single public baker in Man-
chester. In France, when the use
of yeast was first introduced, it
deemed by the faculty of medicine to
be so injurious to health that i ! -
was prohibited under the severest penal-
ties. Herault says that, durin : the
siege of Paris by Henry the Fourth, a
famine raged, and bi'ead sold at a cro\vn
a pound. When this was consume-
dried bones from the charnel house of
326
A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY.
the Holy Innocents were exhumed, and
a kind of bread made therefrom. \
street iu London was once a bread
market. From the year 1266, it had
been customary to regulate by law the
price of Dread in proportion to the
price of wheat or flour at the time.
This was called the assize of bread ; but,
in 1815, it was abolished. In the year
272 there was a famine in Britain so
severe that people ate the bark of trees ;
lorty thousand persons perished by
famine in England in 310 ! In the
year 450 there was a famine in Italy so
dreadful that people eat their own
children. A famine, commencing in
England, Wales, and Scotland, in 954,
lasted four years. A famine in England
and France in 1193 led to a pestilen-
tial fever, which lasted until 1195.
In 1315 there was again a dreadful
famine in England, during which
people devoured the flesh of horses,
dogs, cats, and vermin ! In the year
1775, 16,000 people died of famine in
the Cape de Verds. These are only a
few of the remarkable famines that have
occarred in the course of history. Let
us thank God that we live in times of
abundance, when improved cultivation,
the pursuit of industry, and the settle-
ment of the laws, renders such a cala-
mity as a famine almost an impossi-
bility.
What is Silk ?
The thread of a simple caterpillar,
which it spins to wrap around itself
while it passes through the state of a
chrysalis. Silk is supplied by various
parts of the world, including China,
the East Indies, Turkey, &c., where the
silkworm has been found to thrive. The
attempts that have been hitherto made
to cultivate it in this country have
proved unsuccessful. At Rome, in the
time of Tiberius, a law passed the senate
which, as well as prohibiting the wear- |
ing of massive gold jewels, also forbade ;
the men to debase themselves by wear- i
ing silk. There was a time when silk |
was of the same value as gold weight \
for weight and it was thought to grow j
upon trees. It is recorded that silk
mantles were worn by some noble ladies
at a ball at Kenilworth Castle, 1286. It
was first manufactured in England in
1604. In the reign of Elizabeth, the
manufacture of silk in England made
rapid strides. Iu 1666 there were 40,000
persons engaged iu the silk trade. The
.siik throwsters of the m.-'-ropolis
enrolled in a fellowship in 1562, and
were incorporated in 1 1>:2'.'. In 1685 a
considerable impetus was given to the
English silk manufactures. Louis the
Fgurteenth of France revoked the edict
of Nantes. The edict of Nantes was
promulgated by Henry IV. of France
in 1598. It gave to the protestants of
France the free exercise of their religion.
Louis the Fourteenth revoked this edict
in 1685, and thereby drove the protes-
tants as refugees to England, Holland,
and parts of Germany, where they esta-
blished various manufactures. Many
of these French refugees settled in
Spital fields, and there founded exten-
sive manufactories, which soon rivalled
those of their own country ; and thus
the intolerance of the king was justly
punished. What important facts we
see entwined even in the simple thread
of the silkworm !
What is Cotton ?
Cotton is a species of vegetable wool
produced by the cotton shrub, called
botanically Gossypium herbaceum, of
which there are numerous varieties. It
grows naturally in Asia, Africa, and
America, and is cultivated largely for
purposes of commerce. The precise
time when the cotton manufacture was
introduced into England is unknown ;
but probably it was not before the 1 7th
century. Since then, what wonderful
advances have been made ! The cotton
trade and manufacture have become a
vast source of British industry, and of
commerce between nations. It was
some years ago calculated that the
cotton manufacture yielded to Great
Britain one thousand millions sterling.
The names of Hargreaves, Arkwright,
Crompton, Cartwright, and others, have
become immortalised by their inven-
tions for the improvement of the manu-
facture of cotton fabrics. Little more
| than half a century has passed since the
British cotton manufactory was in its
infancy now it engages many millions
THE MONEY WE SPEND.
327
of capital keeps millions of work-
people employed ; freights thousands
of ships that are ever crossing and re-
crossing the seas; and binds nations
together in ties of mutual interest.
The present yearly value of cotton manu-
factures in Great Britain is estimated at
34,000,000. About 6,044,000 of the
above sum is distributed yearly among
working people as wages.
WftatisWool?
Wool is a kind of soft hair or down,
produced by various animals, but chiefly
from sheep. For the production of
wool in England and Wales it has been
estimated that there are no less than
27,000,000 sheep and lambs ; and, in
Great Britain and Ireland, the total
number is estimated at 32,000,000.
Wool was not manufactured in any
quantity in England until 1331, when
the weaving of it was introduced by
John Kempe and other artizans from
Flanders. The exportation or non-ex-
portation of wool was from timeto time
found a vexed subject for legislators.
Woollen clothes were made an article of
commerce in the reign of Julius Caesar.
They were made in England prior to
1200. Blankets were first made in
England in 1340. The art of dying
wools was first introduced into Eng-
land in 1608. The annual value of the
raw material in wool is set down at
6,000,000 ; the wages of workmen en-
gaged in the wool trade, 9,600,000.
The number of people employed is said
to be 500,000.
We have now examined some of the
principal objects which our house con-
tains. But our "Journey of Discovery"
draws nearly to a close. When we com-
menced it, we hoped to have pursued
it further; but circumstances have
compelled us for the present to curtail
what our feelings would otherwise have
induced us to elaborate.
Let us, however, say to our fellow
travellers that they can take up " the
journey" where we leave it off, and pursu-
ing the history of every object around
them, let them proceed through every
department of the house as we have
done only with respect to some part
thereof. They will find that everything
from the stone of the wall to the cement
of the ceiling, even to the dust beneath
their feet, will afford facts of interest.
For what is dust but the disintegrated
particles of things once organised, or
subsisting under perfect conditions con-
sonant to its nature ? Within the little
pile of dust may be found particles of
bone, of flesh, of hair, of feathers, of
wood, of marble, yea ! even of gold and
silver. As the mist which hangs over
the sea was once a part of the sea itself,
so the dust which dances in the sunbeam
was once a part of some essential
structure.
THE MONEY WE SPEND.
A BOOK has lately been published
which is a perfect marvel, and has
taken the public by storm. Thousands
of copies have been sold, and thousands
will continue to sell, because the book
tells a true history of a penny which
became a thousand pounds. It appears
that some years ago a small tradesman
became impressed with the productive-
ness of a penny, if set apart from the
general risks of business, turned to a
profit and allowed continually to grow
by the augmentation of its own profits,
which were not to be diverted under
any circumstances until a certain sum
had accumulated. In a few years, by
earnest determination and discreet ma-
nagement, the penny grew to the im-
portant sum of one thousand pounds !
One element of great importance in
the penny is this, that although it is a
coin of small value, it is divisible into
four parts ; and as in most matters of
trade there are either three or four di-
visions of co&t and profit (generally
four), the penny has become the most
universal of all coins. The three or
four divisions of the penny may be thus
exhibited :
Raw Material, two parts.
Labour, one part.
Profit, one parjt.
Or otherwise :
Raw Material, one pai-t.
Labour, one part .
Wholesale profi one part.
Retail profit, on part.
328
THE MONEY WE SPEND.
Most matters of trade will be found
to be subject to these elements of divi-
sion in reference to the cost of produc-
tion, and the division of profit.
The penny, possessing these conve-
nient properties of division, is also a
coin which, from its small value, is
widely current. It is the coin of
the million. It weighs down the
f every shopkeeper ; it is counted
and packed in paper every Saturday
night, because the heap in which it has
accumulated has become so large ; it is
thecoin which the gentleman gives to the
crossing-sweeper, which the rich man
throws to the beggar, which the old lady
gives to the child. We have penny post-
age, penny newspapers, penny reading-
rooms, penny ink, penny blacking,
penny loaves, penny banks, penny clubs,
penny schools, penny mechanics' insti-
tutions, penny shows. In fact, there
is no article of trade which is conveni-
ently divisible into small quantities, of
'vhich a " pennyworth" may not be had ;
and there are few sources of recreation
which have not, in their humbler forms,
been offered to the people at the price
of a penny. You may send a letter
from London to John o'Groat's there
shall be a splendid palace to receive the
letter, servants in livery to take it in
charge, and put the stamp of authority
upon it ; it shall be taken from this
place by horses panting from their
speed, and it shall be received at
another palace, by other servants,
in another livery, who shall link
it to a monster, whose breath is
steam, and whose food is fire. Away
it goes at a speed as swift as that of the
bird. All the night through it is flying
onward. The day breaks, the letter
has reached its destination; your
friend, three hundred miles away, is
now reading that which, twelve hours
ago, you were writing. The price you
pay for this is a penny. It is a striking
illustration of the power of the penny.
Every time you waste a penny, you
throw away a power by which you
might have sent servants with a letter
from London to the Land's End.
Again : This world is shaped like a
ball; its diameter is 7,900 miles
people of different habits, speaking
various languages, and having insti-
tutions varying more or less from
each other, populate t\ great part of its
surface. But water and space divide
the nations of the earth. Paris is 500
miles from London ; St. Petersburg,
1,620 miles; New York, 3,000 miles ;
Australia, 13,000 miles. But there are
! steam- ships crossing the seas ; and
i there are railway locomotives waiting
the arival of the ships ; and there are
wires pervading the earth, that speak,
in mysterious tongue, to the people of
one nation of what those in the other
nation are doing. The tongue is like
that of forked lightning, which touches-
the heavens and the earth at the same
moment, and seems to bring them
both together ; and there are men who
wait upon this tongue, and who watch
the departure and the arrival of those
ships, and of the locomotive that stands
panting to pursue its course. And
there is another monster whose breath
is steam, and whose food is fire ; and
men with thoughtful brows and busy
fingers wielding the potent pen, who
attend upon this monster -for he has
acquired the power of talking to the
multitude by signs and symbols, and
telling them what the ship has brought
from the opposite surface of the world ;
what the wires have said to have trans-
pired only a few hours ago in another
zone ; and what the locomotive has ga-
thered in his brief visits to a hundred
places along his line of travel ; and what
the men of thoughtful brows think of the
doings of the world. In the morning,
at your breakfast table, a paper is laid
before you, in which, as in a mirror, you
see the movements of the world re-
flected ; you not only read the faces,
but the hearts of men. This costs you
a penny. Ship, locomotive, electric
wires, printing machines, and man, have
all been at your service, and the price
you have paid has been a penny. When-
ever, therefore, you waste a penny, you
sacrifice that which was equal to the
power of communicating with France,
fcJt. Petersburg, New York, Australia,
the world ! How a Penny Became a.
Thousand Pounds. (Price Is.)
THE WISDOM OF OUR ANCESTORS.
329
THE WISDOM OF OUR ANCES-
TORS.
SIR THOMAS BROWNE, in his Pseudo-
doxia Epidemica, or Enquiries into very
many received Tenets and commonly
presumed Trutfts, speaks thus of our im-
moderate respect for " venerable an-
tiquity :" " But the mortallest enemy
unto knowledge, and that which hath
done the greatest execution upon truth,
hath been a peremptory adhesion unto
authority, and more especially the es-
tablishing of our belief upon the dic-
tates of antiquity. For (as every
capacity may observe) most men of
ages present so superstitiously do look
on ages past, that the authorities of the
one do exceed the reasons of the other.
Whose persons indeed being farre re-
moved from our times, their works,
which seldome with us passe uncon-
trouled, either by contemporaries, or
immediate successors, are now be-
come out of the distance of envies :
and the farther removed from present
times, are conceived to approach the
nearer xmto truth itself. Now, hereby,
methinks \ve manifestly delude our-
selves, and widely walk out of the track,
of truth."
One of the most mischievous forms
which this reverence for authority as-
-sumes is, when what we are pleased to
cxll "the wisdom of our ancestors,"
1 " the wisdom of ages," " venerable an-
tiquity," is thrown in our teeth to pre-
vent any discovery in science, or in art,
in philosophy, or in legislation, from
being adopted by us in modern times.
This phrase, " the wisdom of our ances-
tors," and the prejudices it fosters, has
sent some men to the stake, and others
to the dungeon : it brought on Galileo
the vengeance of the Inquisition ; it
called Harvey a dreamer, and Jenner
an innovator ; it mocked at Adam
Smith, aud sneered at Bentham ; but
the very phrase itself contains a fallacy
as false as it is mischievous. To speak
of the early days of the world as its old
days, is the same as if in speaking of an
individual man we were to dilate on the
venerable antiquity of his babyhood,
and yield with deference to his wisdom
while yet in long-clothes, and the full
enjoyment in the pap-spoon. What in
called " venerable antiquity " was, in
truth, the young days of the world ;
the days of its inexperience and igno-
rance, full of error and credulity. We,
in this present age, are far older than
they, more experienced, less credulous.
We possess not only such knowledge
and experience as our ancestors pos-
sessed, but also the accumulated know-
ledge and experience of all thinkers
from the very earliest ages of the world.
Whatever advance in human thought
or in human knowledge any individual
man of past times has made, has come
down to us. Whatever errors the
ignorance or credulity of past times has
fostered, are gradually disappearing
before the older experience. The facts
of the past times are valuable, the more
valuable often, as teaching us what to
avoid. The opinions of the past ages
are frequently worthless, from the in-
sufficiency of the facts upon which these
opinions were founded. To apply these
opinions to events of the present tune
would be like pronouncing judgment
without evidence ; for the circum-
stances xinder which the opinion wa.-
formed, the habits of life, the wants
and requirements of the age, are totally
different and distinct from what they
are when the opinion is to be acted on ;
and to prefer " the wisdom of our an-
cestors" to the knowledge of the
present day is wilfully to close our eyes
against evidence, to shut out that which
is complete and efficient, and to adopt
that which is vague, imperfect, and
null.
If " the wisdom of our ancestors " is
implicitly to be relied on, to what age of
the world would they refer us for
perfect wisdom ? Would it be enough,
or too far, to go back to the times of
the ancient Britons .' Would they wish
us to dwell in wattled huts, and walk
about with painted bodies and skin
coats ? Would they have us change
our steam-boats for coracles, and our
locomotives for war-chariots ? Would
they convert our bishops into Druide,
and send out the Archbishop of Can-
terbury with a golden knife to cut the
sacred misletoe; aud the Bishop oC
830
THE WISDOM OF OUR ANCESTORS.
Exeter to preside over the human sacri-
fice ? Yet such was the " wisdom of our
ancestors " in those days. But, perha j x,
as the " laudatores teinporis acti," the
great upholders of the " wisdom of our
ancestors," are deeply enamoured of
feudalism and its accompaniments, they
may wish to stop at that period, ig-
nore all its antecedents, and find
true wisdom in the mail-clad knights
whose pen was the pummel of their
sword, who were innocent of all learn-
ing ; when every house was a fortress,
where '-power dwelt amidst its pas-
sions ;" when force was the sole gua-
rantee for safety ; when superstition,
credulity, and ignorance, filled the
land : when the nobles were highway-
men, and the people were slaves. This
period seems to have been thought, by
many of our writers, the golden age of
England, venerable from its antiquity,
wise beyond all comparison, and not
only wise, but merry; for to those
days we are constantly sent back when
they would impress u s with a notion of
" merrie England." But let us look for
a minute at the means of acquiring
wisdom which existed even long after
the time of the knights, when feudal-
ism was drawing to its close, and print-
ing was beginning to scatter the seeds
of information about the world. A few
meagre chronicles, the songs and
romances of the troubadours, comprised
almost entirely the literary food of the
people. The Nuremberg Chronicle con-
tains all that was then known of the
history and geography of the world;
and there we are told of sundry races
of men then inhabiting the world, some
with the horns and hoofs of goats;
others with the heads of dogs, whose
language is a perpetual bark ; some with
four eyes, others with but one, and
that, like the Cyclops, in the middle of
their forehead; others again with no
heads, or rather, as Shakspere has it,
"men whose heads do grow beneath
their shoulders," the eyes being in the
shoulders, and the nose and mouth in
the breast ; others again have necks as
long as swans, with the beak of an eagle
in the place of a mouth, and a nose like
Lord Brougham's above it. Then
some have a mouth so small that they
are obliged to suck in all their nutri-
ment through a reed; while others
have the upper lip so large that it covers
all their faoes like a screen. Others
again have only one leg, and a foot so
enormous in size, that they stick it up
in the air like an umbrella and go to
sleep under its shade, and are, withal,
so swift with this one foot that they
easily run down the fleetest animals of
the forest. Others wrap themselves up
in their own ears, which are drawn in
shape like those of a lop-eared rabbit,
only large enough to cover the whole
body of a man. Some had six hands,
others six fingers, and others eight
toes : all kinds of monstrosities are
figured as representing the inhabitants
of different parts of the earth ; centaurs
and pigmies are about the least outra-
geous of these conceptions, while the
battle of the pigmies and the cranes is
accepted as true history. And in the
earliest travels that we have, the travel-
lers confirm all these stories ; there is
not one of the monstrosities of the
Nuremberg Chronicle that is not con-
firmed by Sir John Mandeville, a
learned knight and physician, who spent
thirty-four years in travelling through
foreign lands. In fact, they all of them
take the old story of Pliny, and repeat
them without examination.
The description of the hippopotamus,
from Sir J. Mandeville, will give us
some idea of the manner in which the
" wisdom of our ancestors " looked at
nature. " In that contree ben many
Ipotaynes, that dwellen sometyme in
the Watre, and sometyme on the Lond :
and thei ben half Man and half Hors,
as I have sed before ; and thei eten men
when thei may take hem." But it is
not to the human and the animal crea-
tion alone that these wonders are con-
fined : Sir John Mandeville on his own
experience gives us an account of the
Well of Youth, which he tells us he
visited and drank of its waters. * "And
* We have preserved the original spelling
as an example of the manner in which our
ancestors of the 14th century wrote, and
spoke, before the orthography of the language
became fixed.
THE WISDOM OF OUR ANCESTORS.
331
at the foot of that Mount, is a fayr
Welle and a great that hathe the odour
and savour of alle Spices; and at
every hour of the day, he chaungethe
his odour and savour dyversely And
whoso drynkethe three tymes fasting of
that Watre of that Welle, he is hool of
all manner of Syckuess that he hathe.
And thei that dwellen there and dryken
of that Welle, thei never hav Siknes?.
and thei setnen alle weys zonge. I have
dronken there of three or four sithes
(times) ; and zit methinkethe, I fare
the better. Sum men clepen (call) it
the Welle of Zouthe (youth) ; for thei
that often drinken there of, semen alle
weys zongly and ly veu without Sykness.
And men seyn that that Welle cometh
out of Parody s, and therefore it is so
vertuous." Sir J. Mandeville set out
on his travels in 1322, not long after
the close of the Crusades, when the
gallant knights of chivalry were in
their full vigour. From the nature of
the stories which one of the most
learned of their body, who had received
all the advantages of foreign travel, has
handed down to us, we may form a
tolerably accurate opinion on the " wis-
dom of our ancestors " in those days,
*o which we are now so continually
ailed upon to do homage.
If they will not go back quite so far
as the feudal times, perhaps they might
3nd their ways of perfect wisdom in the
stirring times of "bluff King Hal"
the glorious days of fire and faggot,
when Protestant and Catholic were
burnt at the same stake for deviating
on one side or the other from the
King's rule of faith ; when queen's
heads were not adhesive, but sat un-
easily upon their shoulders ; and prin-
cesses refused to become queens because
they had only one neck, which they
did not like to trust within the reach
of the most amatory of kings. Or,
pt-rhaps, they might deem, the awaken-
ing light of the reign of "good Queen
Bess" the finest sample of the
dom of our ancestors," when many
bright spirits shed a lustre around
which has descended undiminished to
our days, but which was unable to pene-
trate the dense blackness of those
times, when Shakespere was looked
upon as a deer-stealer, and Spenser
condemned " in sueing long to bide,"
when bear-baiting was held in higher
estimation than the noblest poetry, and
hobby-horses and tomfoolery were not
confined to the Lord Mayor's day,
when queens rode in state upon a pil-
lion, and maids-of-honour breakfasted
upon salt beef and strong beer. Or,
let us come down to the next reign,
after Bacon had propounded the foun-
dations of modern philosophy, and see
the learned monarch of those times
the Solomon of his age disputing on
his two favourite themes of kingcraft
and witchcraft ; one moment laying
down maxims for despotic rule, and the
next teaching us how to discover a
witch ; one moment maundering over
the divine right of kings, and the
next drivelling over the eternal rule of
demons. Under his sway old women
by scores and hundreds were hanged,
and burned, and drowned for riding
through the air on broomsticks, whisk-
ing up chimneys, tormenting cattle,
and giving fits to children. And even
so lately as the reign of Charles the
Second we find that very learned judge
Sir Matthew Hale, giving as a reason
for believing in the existence of witches,
the very fallacy that we have placed at
the head of this article. " The wisdom
of all nations had provided laws
against all such persons, which is an
argument of their confidence of such a
crime." Law and punishments, judges
and juries, priests and exorcists, could
not banish witchcraft from the thoughts
and opinions of our wise ancestors;
but in these modern times a few drops
of printer's ink have sunk the whole
brood into the Red Sea, never to rise
again until an ignorance as dark as the
" wisdom of our ancestors " shall spread
itself over the earth.
By the "wisdom of our ancestors"
credit was given to the existence of
witchcraft, sorcerers, and ghosts, and
judicial decisions wore grounded on
evidence attesting or supposing the ex-
istence of such i iiave many
relating the appearance of ghosts
in courts of justice, which of course no
THE WISDOM OF OUR ANCESTORS.
me believes; but we have m;my trials
in which the witnesses depose to facts
which they allege they have rt>
from apparitions. In 1754, Duncan
Terig, alias Clerk, and Alexander Bane
'maid were tried for the murder
>t Arthur Davis, sergeant in General
Guise's regiment, The principal witness
against the prisoners was a Highlander,
who gave a distinct narrative of the
appearance of the sergeant's ghost,
which gave a very lucid account of the
murder, and described the spot where
the body was concealed. The jury
did not convict on this testimony, for
-although they might have believed in |
the ghost, they could not reconcile I
themselves to this discrepancy, that i
the ghost of the sergeant, who had '
known no Gaelic in his lifetime, was
obliged to use that language to be
intelligible to the witness ! Even so
lately as 1832, we have evidence given
in a trial, in the Highlands of Scotland,
founded on a dream. A pedlar had
been murdered, and his pack concealed.
An individual took the officers of justice
to a spot where he said a voice had
toltl him in fi dream, in Gaelic, that the
pack would be found ; and it was there
discovered accordingly. Suspicion was
naturally roused against the witness,
but all attempts to discover the real
ground of his knowledge were baffled.
The accused was found guilty and
executed. The last two examples of
this kind of evidence is found in the
most remote and ignorant part of
Scotland. To use the language of Mr.
Betham, we may say, " In effect,
remote times are virtually present to
us in remote places. The different
generations of mankind, at their
different stages of civilization, are at
once present to our eyes. We may
view our ancestors in our antipodes.
In Japan sorcerers are still seen riding
in the clouds. In Negroland witchcraft
is even now the most common of all
crimes. Half a century is scarce past
since Hungary has been cleared of
vampires. Wherever the ignorance is
deepest, there we may see the reflex of
the " wisdom of our ancestors."
Sir Thomas Browne, in the folio
volume which we quoted at the begin-
ning of this paper, published in the
time of the Commonwealth, brought
an im mouse mass of learning to bear
on many vulgar errors which had passed
for truth in the " wisdom of his ances-
tors ;" and he gravely combats the
opinions " that the sun dauceth on
Easter- day," that "crystal is nothing
else but ice strongly congealed," that
'a diamond is made soft or broke by
the blood of a goat ;" together with
many others of like nature. The er-
rors which Sir Thomas Browne exposed
were for the most part physical and su-
perstitious. The whole tribe of these
might have been greatly increased, but
these have long since disappeared : ob-
servation and science have so fully dis-
closed that the "wisdom of our ances-
tors " on these points was mere folly,
that no oue now-a-days sends us back
to that wisdom for instruction. Autho-
rity and antiquity have yielded to rea-
son and experience. "By no gentle-
man, honourable or right honourable,
are we sent at this time of day to the
' wisdom of our ancestors ' for the best
mode of marshalling armies, navigating
ships, or attacking and defending towns,
for the best modes of cultivating and
improving laud, and preparing and pre-
serving its products for the purposes of
food, clothing, artificial light and heat ;
for the promptest and most commodious
means of conveyance of ourselves and
goods from one portion of the earth's
surface to another ; for the best modes
of curing, alleviating, or preventing
disorders in our own bodies, and those
of the animals which we contrive to
to our use."
n all matters of physical science the
fallacy has been exploded. It is only
when we come to matters of legislation
that we find grave men gravely affirm-
ing that such and such an improvement
must not be made because ''the wis-
dom of our ancestors" had decided
against it, because it was unknown to
" venerable antiquity," because " the
authority of the past" was oppot
it. They cast aside the unquestionable
maxim, that reason and not authority
should decide the judgment ; and would
apply
In a
EDUCATION AND EXERCISE.
333
prevent the progress of the human
race by chaining us down to the prac-
tices and institutions of our ancestors,
hallowed bv antiquity and illuminated
by the light of ages. And why is this ?
Why does no one now venture to insin-
uate that in mechanics, in astronomy,
in mathematics, in chemistry, we ought
to rely on "the wisdom of our ances-
tors instead of direct and specific evi-
dence, when, iu questions of morals
and legislation, of the well-being of the
community, they would confine us to
that narrow limit ? It is because in
these the sinister interests of men are
allowed their full weight. All who are
interested in the support of abuses
all who are desirous of keeping up in-
stitutions that are found to be perni-
cious strive to put down reason by
the voice of authority to make the
authority of ages past exceed the rea-
sons of times present. They find that
argument is failing them, that they
cannot from their own stores success-
fully combat the reasons opposed to
them, that their propositions are in
themselves untenable, and they seek to
gain support through the opinions of
some by-gone age, and imagine that we
are bound to surrender up our under-
standing to some venerable authority
of olden times. They continually ex-
alt the past for the express purpose of
depressing and discouraging the present
generation. They depreciate and con-
temn the great body of the people of
the present day, while they idolise the
ignorance of untaught, inexperienced
generations, under the lofty title of
" the wisdom of our ancestors."
EDUCATION AND EXERCISE.
THE mind, as well as the body, is de-
veloped and strengthened, and all the
muscles and organs of the system are
increased in size, and rendered more
perfect by frequent exercise. This i<
verified in the case of the blacksmith,
whoso right arm, by the daily use of
hammers, in forging and working
iron, becomes larger and stronger than
the arms of any other class of men. It
is a general rule, applying to all classes
of persons, that the limbs and organs,
or part of the system most exercised,
become the strongest. But the greater
part of employments give a health}
exercise to nearly all parts of the human
system, and tend to increase their
strength and activity.
The more a person exercises his
memory, judgment, or reasoning facul-
ties, upon any particular subject, the
more acute, accurate, and active the
faculty exercised becomes ; inasmuch
as all the operations of the mind are
carried on by means of the brain and
nervous system, which consist of physi-
cal organs. When the mind has dwelt
long upon any particular subject, the
succession of ideas in the mind, from
frequent occurrence and repetition,
become associated together and form
i trains of thought, so that when the
same subject is again introduced to the
mind, the same succession of ideas and
| trains of thought will be suggested to
it, and follow each other in their accus-
tomed order. This association of ideas
in the mind depends on the same cau^e,
and is governed by the same laws, as
the characteristic of the muscular and
organic system usually called habit.
No man can be a great general in
modern times, since war has been re-
duced to a system, and become a very
complicated science, unless his miurt
has been thoroughly disciplined by
active service in the field, as well as-
by extensive reading and learning in
mathematics, fortification, and military
tactics. Nor can a man become n, dis-
tinguished diplomatist, lawyer, orator,
! debater, or tactician, as a leader of a
' political party, without experience as
! well as learning in those several depart-
ments : learning alone is not sufficient;
practice also is necessary. To make a
great statesman, legislator, or judge,
more mature judgment, and more
various and extensive acquirements,
observation, and reflection are neces-
sary : but experience in either of those
particular departments is not so impor-
tant.
Luxury and indolence are the grave
of talent. A person may be born with
as much native talent as Julius Cce^ar,
334
GIOTTO THE SHEPHERD BOY AND PAINTER.
Cicero, or Napoleon Bonaparte, and if
cradled in luxury, and bred in indo-
lence, unless he makes a total change
of his habits (which is almost impos-
sible), he must necessarily ivmaiu
through life comparatively feeble and
inefficient. He may, by means of his
native genius, elegance of manners, and
general information, acquired without
reasoning much, be able to make a
speech or address, upon the mere sur-
face of things, that may tickle the fancy
of a popular audience, and be effective
for the moment ; but to discuss great
principles with ability, point out their
tendencies, trace them to their ultimate
results, and warn the public of the
dangers attending them ; or to oiiginate
and mature great and important mea-
sures for the benefit of his country,
requires an enlarged wisdom, acquired
by attentively observing the current of
human events, much learning, deep
reflection, and a well-balanced and well-
disciplined mind.
Nor is disci [line of mind in one de-
partment of science or business of as
much importance in other departments,
which are very different in their charac-
ter, as many of the schools and school-
men pretend. To play chess, many
games of cards, and some other games
of amusement well, requires science and
discipline of mind as well as experience ;
and yet the science and discipline of
mind thus acquired serve only to in-
toxicate the mind, and to divert it
from and unfit it for any rational and
useful employment. If these reflections
are correct, they show the importance
of " training up a child in the way he
should go," and forming his habits of
mind and body, and adapting them not
only to the paths of virtue but to the
pursuits which he is to follow through
life. They show also the reason of the
great difficulty and hazard of a man's
changing his pursuits, after he has
attained the middle age of life.
The same course of reasoning will
cpply to our moral, benevolent, and
social feelings. They are quickened,
increased, and strengthened by fre-
quent exercise, in the same manner as
our physical and intellectual faculties.
Frequent attention to the wants and
sufferings of the poor and unfortunate,
serves to awaken, increase, and
then our benevolent feelings and
: hies i',r persons in distress, and
to render them more quick and active.
In order to cultivate the moral facul-
ties, however, it is necessary to restrain
our selfish as well as our malevolent
passions. Moderation, and the restraint
of violent passions and appetites, lie at
the foundation of all virtue. A person
of violent and unrestrained passions
may have certain generous impulses,
which may be called instincts, or pro-
pensities, but cannot be properly digni-
fied with the title of virtues. One of
the noblest acquirements of man con-
sists in the power, which may become
a fixed habit, of restraining his own
us, and giving a proper direction
to his moral and social feelings. Even
conscience can be cultivated, and ge-
nerally depends upon the education,
habits, and opinions of the person.
GIOTTO, THE SHEPHERD BOY
AND PAINTER.
ABOUT forty miles from Florence, Italy,
there lived a poor peasant, named Bon-
done. In 1276 he had a son born,
whom he called Giotto. The father
was an ignorant man, and he knew little
else than to labour in taking care of his
flocks of sheep.
There were no public schools in that
country where children of the poor
man, as well as those of the rich, could
attend and obtain an education. Con-
sequently, young Giotto was brought
up in ignorance. But he was one of
those boys that learn something from
what they see around them.
In the country where Giotto lived,
there were no fences and fields, such as
we have, to keep the sheep and cattle
from straying; hence it was necessary
to keep some person with the flocks
while they were feeding on the plains,
to take care of them.
At the early age of ten, Bondone sent
his son, Giotto, out to take care of a
flock. This pleased the lad, for now the
happy little shepherd-boy could roam
GIOTTO THE SHEPHERD BOY AND PAINTER.
335
about the meadow-plain at his will.
But most of his time must be spent
near the flock, and he was not long in
devising some means to keep himself
busy while there.
His favourite amusement soon be-
came that of sketching in the sand, or
on broad, flat stones, making pictures
of surrounding objects, while lying on
the grass in the midst of his flock. His
pencils were a hard stick, or a sharp
piece of stone ; and his chief models the
sheep which gathered around him in
various attitudes.
The following story is related of the
manner in which the genius of Giotto
was discovered, and how he became a
great painter :
One day, as the shepherd-boy lay in
the midst of his flock, earnestly sketch-
ing something on a stone, there came
by a traveller. Struck with the boy's
deep attention to his work, and the un-
conscious grace of his attitude, the
stranger stopped, and went to look at
what he was doing.
It was a sketch of a sheep, drawn
with such freedom and truth of nature,
that the traveller beheld it with aston-
ishment.
" Whose son are you ? " said he, with
eagerness.
The startled boy looked np in the
face of his questioner. " My father is
Bondone the labourer, and I am his lit-
tle Giotto, so please the signor," said
he.
" Well, then, little Giotto, should you
like to come and live with me, and learn
how to draw, and paint sheep like this,
and horses, and even men ? "
The child's eyes flashed with delight.
" I will go with you anywhere to
learn that. But," he added, as a sudden
reflection made him change colour, " I
must first go and ask my father ; I can
do nothing without his leave."
" That is right, my boy ; and so we
will go to him together," said the
stranger, who was the painter Cimabue.
Great was the wonder of old Bondone
at such a sudden proposal ; but he per-
ceived his son's wish, though Giotto
was fearful of expressing it, and con-
sented. He accompanied his boy to
Florence, and left his little Giotto under
the painter's care.
His pupil's progress surpassed Cima-
bue' s expectations. In delineating na-
ture, Giotto soon went beyond his
master, to whom a good deal of the
formality of Greek art, which he had
been the first to cast aside, still clung.
One morning the artist went into his
studio, and looking at a half-finished
head, saw a fly resting on the nose.
Cimabue tried to brush it off, when he
discovered that it was only painted.
" Who has done this ? " cried he,
half angry, half delighted.
Giotto came trembling from a corner,
and confessed his fault. But he met
with praise instead of reproof from his
master, who loved art too well to be in-
dignant at his pupil's talent, even
though the frolic was directed against
himself.
As Giotto grew older, his fame spread
far and wide. Like most artists of
those early times, he was an architect as
well as painter. Pope Benedict IX.
sent messengers to him one day. They
entered the artist's studio, and in-
formed him that the Pope intended to
employ him in designing for St. Peter's
Church, at Rome, and that he desired
Giotto to send him some designs by
which he might judge of his capacity.
Giotto was a pleasant and humor-
ous man, and taking a sheet of paper
drew, with one stroke of his pencil, a
perfect circfe. Then handing it to the
messengers, he said to them, " There is
my design, take that to his Holiness."
The messengers replied, " We ask for
a design."
" Go, sirs," said Giotto ; " I tell you
his Holiness asks nothing else of me.
And notwithstanding all their remon-
strance, he refused to give any other.
Pope Benedict was a learned man ;
he saw that Giotto had given him the
best instance of perfection in his art,
sent for him to come to Rome, and
honoured and rewarded him. From
this incident " Round as Giotto's 0,"
became an Italian proverb.
The talents of Giotto won him the
patronage of the great of his country.
He visited in succession Padua, Verona
336
THOUGHTS UPON THE WALL.
and Ferrara. At the latter city he re-
mained some time, painting for the
Prince of Este.
While there, Dante heard of Giotto,
and invited him to Ravenna. There,
also, he painted many of his works, and
formed a strong friendship with the
great Dante.
The poor shepherd-boy was now in
the height of his fame. Admitted into
the society of the Italian nobles, en-
joying the friendship of the talented
men of his age Dante, Boccaccio, and
Petrarch and admired by all, his was,
indeed, an enviable position.
He was a good man as well as great ;
loved by all his friends ; and, as his
biographer, Yassari, says, " a good
Christian as well as an excellent
painter." He died at Milan, in the
year 1336, and the city of Florence
erected a statue in honour of this great
artist.
THOUGHTS UPON THE WALL.
THERE are two kinds of beauty con-
nected with natural and artistic objects ;
the one a beauty inherent and per se, the
other a beauty of associated ideas and
feelings. Some writers, of whom Mr.
Alison may be considered the chief, have
come to the conclusion that all our
pleasures of taste, all our impressions of
beauty, are grounded upon this princi-
ple of association. The entire correct-
ness of this may well be doubted ; but
there can be no doubt of its being
partially true, and that in all philo-
sophical theories of beauty, this princi-
ple of association must be taken in as an
essential element. A happy thing it is
for us a merciful susceptibility of our
nature, that we are able sometimes to
link a beautiful thought or feeling with
but an indifferently beautiful object, and
to extract, not exactly sunbeams from
cucumbers, but sermons from stones,
and good from everything. Powerful
among this class of suggestive things
ure pictures in a room. They might do
much for the rustic and the labourer;
and not only for them, but for that im-
mensely large class, also, who occupy
the broad margin between the rich and
the poor the small-salaried clerk and in-
ferior tradesman ; a class who have to
maintain a worldly appearance with
marvellously little of worldly means.
Expensive works of art are. of course,
quite out of the question in homes like
these : but there are such things as
cheap prints, and paintings of moderate
value, which, without any great merit
of execution, exhibit a beautiful scene or
incident, and exhale poetic influences to
awaken holy associations of ideas.
We remember once, after a day of
difficulty and sorrow, drinking tea in the
parlour of a small neat dwelling in the
suburbs of the metropolis. The walls
were decorated with prints, framed and
glazed, the whole value of which was,
perhaps, not over 5, but which, owing
to a pervading beauty of sentiment, was
of more value to the looker on than
many of the productions of the magnate*
of the artist world. We thought it very
delightful, we remember, after a day of
disappointment and care spent in Lon-
don streets, amidst all its excitement
and hurly burly, its noise and confusion
and feverish antagonisms, to repose the
eye upon a coloured print representing
a rural scene. It was on the shore of a
lake in Switzerland ; the time was even-
ing, and the golden light of the declin-
ing sun glittered in a long path of glory
over the calm water. Conspicuous on
the mountain slopes, on its borders, rose
a picturesque building, which seemed to
be an old time-hallowed chapel, with
ivy round its pointed windows and
downy moss clustering on its roof and
walls. A little below stood the scattered
dwellings of the hamlet; the cattle
wended homeward from the pasture,
and a rosy maiden in lace boddice,
standing on a knoll of the laud, might
be imagined as singing the Ranz des
Vaches, and beckoning her herd to the
homestead. Now, all this was done in
a veiy plain and homely manner, and
there was nothing whatever in the exe-
cution to throw an artist into ecstasies,
or tempt him into comparisons with the
masters, ancient and modern ; but, for
all that, there was a sort of blessedness
about the humble picture a suggestion
of stillness and repose, a heavenly hush
THOUGHTS UPON THE WALL.
337
for both the struggles of the spirit and
the toils of the body, peculiarly needful
and appropriate to contemplate in con-
trast to the din and strife and soul-
absorbing competition of the fevered
city.
On on6 sjde of this picture hung a
chalk drawing, very respectably done,
a copy from some old head of the Re- |
deemer, couceived as under suffering. |
Here the agonised, but patient and re-
signed, features led back the imagi-
native gazer, through a long vista of i
centuries, to the time when children
clustered round the knees of Him who
blessed them ; when the high road to
Jerusalem resounded with tumultuous |
" Hosannas," when the garden of
Gethsemane witnessed His tears of 1
agony, and the Hall of Judgment rang i
with the scoffs and insults of a brutul-
ised rabble, whilst their unoffending i
victim " answered not a word." The j
whole sequence of that gracious life
passes in review, from the disputations
in the Temple to the bleeding on
Calvary; and the heart that sinks
under the sorrows and trials of the
present time revives, and fortifies it-
self with courage in remembering his
sufferings and the gentle heroism with
which they were borne.
On the opposite side of the Swiss
scene before described, hung a very fair
print of Shakspere. This, again, was
richly suggestive. That noble arch of
forehead ; those deep, full, eloquent
eyes, that earnest mouth, all concur to
testify that this was a MAN a myriad-
minded man. And when the mind
recalls the immense variety of his
creations, the versatility of his genius,
the wondrous breadth of his observa-
tion and sympathy ; when the awakened
fancy unfolds its panorama of enchanted
isles, forests of Ardeu, Windsor meads
enlivened with the gaiety of merry
wives ; the rolling ocean bearing on its
rough waves the cradle of the gentle
Perdita , wild and blasted heaths and
stormy battle-plains ; Portia's villa,
and the moon-lit bank where sounds
of music crept into L . : Vene-
tian banquets, glittering with light and
sounding with music and revelry, where
Romeo loved and Juliet gave her heart
away, the garden where they woo'd, and
the tomb where they died. "When the
fancy envelopes itself with these scenes,
and innumerable others, suggested by
the portrait of Shakspere, does not the
narrow thought swell into magnitude /
Do not confined sympathies expand?
and does not a selfish fretfulness melt
into a generous glow at the joys and
sorrows of all humanity ?
On an opposite wall of the room hung
the representation of a large Indiaman,
outward bound, struggling in a violent
gale of wind. How sublime the terrors
of the scene ! The vessel on its beam-
ends in a trough of boiling surge, the
splintered masts, the torn fluttering
sails, the dark night all around, with
massive storm-clouds hurling from
their black bosoms long, forky flashes
of lurid fire ! With such a picture do
there not arise ideas of Him "who
holdeth the waters in the hollow of his
hand," " who rnaketh the clouds his
chariot, and rideth on the wings of the
wind ?" What generous sympathies
well from the heart towards the " wet
sea-boy in an hour so rude," the brave
mariner at the helm, the calm captain
on the poop, the awe struck passengers
some thinking of home and the tran-
quil life of their early days contrasted
with their present danger some stu-
pified with terror, and some calmly
resigned to death even in the dark
gurgling water. 'Tis but fancy's sketch ;
but of such fancies beautiful emotions-
may be born.
There were other prints in the room,
of more or less interest ; but enough of
description has been given to illustrate
the moral suggestive value of pictures
in the room. We mean, of course,
pictures with a certain poetry of mean-
ing about them ; not flaring portraits of
kings and queens and generals ; not
theatrical monstrosities,representing Mr.
Wallack as Pizarro, or 0. Smith as
Three-fingered Jack; not disgusting
representations of Tom Spring and
Dutch Sam ; not vulgar drawings of
prize heifers and over- fed pigs ; none
of these things, but prints, humble
in, character and inexpensive it may be,
338
INFLUENCE OF THE SEASONS.
but with some pregnancy of subject,
some suggestions of love and peace, and
beauty and goodness, leading the be-
holder to endeavours to make life
fairer in this world and fitter for a
world to come.
INFLUENCES OF THE SEASON.
IT is frequently remarked by many
individuals that a conscious gloom
comes over their minds in the autumn.
The cause is attributed to the season,
and not to themselves. The reason
usually assigned for indulging in such
feelings is, that the fading and falling
of the leaves, betokening winter, had
an effect on the mind, not easily re-
sisted an effect which, in all proba-
bility, the author of our natures wisely
intended. Night and sleep are designed
to remind us of death and the grave, so
are autumn and winter. In this view,
it is asked, how can we avoid sadness,
and even melancholy ?
Now, if the sadness here alluded to,
is of a temporary, or rather a momen-
tary impression ono which comes
upon us, and remains just long enough
to induce new reflections by which the
heart is made better, and yet not long
enough to affect health then depress-
ing autumnal influences should be
hailed as messengers of mercy. But
habitual gloom is neither wise nor
necessary in autumn more than any
other season. The mind may not,
indeed, be as easily raised to as high
a tone of cheerfulness as in May or
June, yet much may be done to elevate '
it to a moderate degree of the same ;
feeling.
The causes of this periodical ten-
dency to sadness are numerous ; but j
most of them are easily removed. We
live in a region where the temperature
is so changeable, that in order to enjoy
life, we must learn to get acclimated
many times a year. One of these sea-
sons of acclimation recurs, usually, in
autumn. The skin, during the long
summer heats, has overacted; and now,
suddenly, it is chilled and depressed,
and its action, unless we are on our
guard, is feeble. It fails, in part, there;
fore, to do its appointed work. The
worn out and decayed particles, solid
and fluid, which should be brought out
and worked up into the fluid of pers-
piration, remain within, and even the
blood is not fully pui'ified. This, by
our tasking some of the internal organs,
clogs the wheels of the body, an,l what-
ever affects the body in this way has a
tendency to affect and depress the
mind.
From this condition there are two
modes of relief. The skin should be so
managed that it will perform its ap-
pointed work. Bathing and friction, as
well as a moderate increase of clothing
by night and by day, will do much to
restore this important organ to its
wonted activity and strength. Calling
philosophy and religion to our aid, the
mind should be forced to cheerfulness
as fast and as far as possible. For our
own sakes we should do this ; but we
must also do it as a matter of Christian
duty.
Autumnal mental depression is, in no
small degree, a consequence of repeated
and gross violations of physical laws
during the preceding summer. In a
thousand ways, during this long and
trying season, do we transgress these
laws, for every one of which there is an
appointed and an inevitable penalty.
Among these sometimes fearful penal-
ties is the tendency of gloom in autumn.
It does not come by the arbitrary ap-
pointment of God, as some would
believe. It comes by God's permission,
and by man's appointment.
GILDING.
GILDING is performed in several ways,
varying, of course, with the substance
to be operated upon, though the prin-
ciple is the same for all.
There are various kinds of gilding:
1st. Oil gilding; 2nd. Japanners gild-
ing, or gilding with gold size ; and 3rd.
Burnish gilding, which may be used on
a basis of wood, metal, paper, or leather;
but the two last require a different pro-
cess.
Materials. Gold leaf should be pure,
GILDING.
339
for if mixed with silver it will have a
greenish hue, and be too pale for gene-
ral purposes ; and if copper enters into
combination with it, the green hue will
be much heightened. To test the purity
of the leaf, apply aqua fortis, which
strikes green if impure from copper.
The colour of the leaf depends much
xipon fashion. A full yellow is much
admired, and so also is the reddish leaf.
But in our opinion, the best method of
testing the colour is to compare the
leaf about to be employed with a good
specimen, which should be always pre-
served for that purpose.
Dutch gold, which is much cheaper, is
only used for coarse work, and should
be varnished, otherwise it spots green,
and loses its colour, especially if ex-
posed to any moisture.
Instruments required. The cushion
may be of any size, from twelve or four-
teen inches square to six ; it is made of
leather, fastened to a board with fine
tow or wool between the two, having,
however, a perfectly flat and even sur-
face. The knife resembles a palette-
knife, the blade being about half an inch
broad, and four or five inches long, with
a sharp edge A squirrel's tail is also
required to take up the leaves, to give
them the proper position, and assist in
compressing the metal to the surface of
the material to be covered. The tail is
cut short, and spread like a fan by
means of a split piece of wood, or some-
times left to its own form.
The hog's-tiair brush should be large
and soft, and is used to pass over the
work to remove the loose gold.
The cotton dalber is made by rolling
some fine cotton wool into a ball, and
tying it upon a piece of fine linen rag;
This is used to take up the smaller
parts of the leaves, and lay on, adjust,
and compress them to the work. It the
wool is used without the rag, the fibres
adhere to the gold size, and give a rough-
ness to the work.
The other instruments requisite for
the three principal kinds of gilding HIV,
a muller and small stone, with palette-
knife, for grinding and mixing the sub-
stances used of fat, gold, size, \-i-. ;
sizing, laying, spreading, and varnishing
brushes of various dimensions, and some
small camel's-hair pencils.
I. Oil gilding is the cheapest, most
durable, and easy kind, and therefore
we will commence with it. It consists
in cementing the leaf to the basis or
ground-work, by means of fat oil, the
preparation of which is given below.
Oil-gilders fat- oil. Take any quan-
tity of linseed oil, and put it into an
earthen vessel, broad at the top in fact,
a milk-pan so that the oil may present ,
a very large surface, and about an inch
thick, having previously poured suffi-
cient water into the pan to make it rise
six or eight inches from the bottom.
Place the vessel with the oil swimming
on the water, where the sun and rain
can have free access to it, but guarded
from dust. Let it remain in this posi-
tion until it attains the consistence of
treacle, stirring it every morning and
evening; then take the oil off the
water, put it into a champagne bottle,
and pour off the remainder of the water.
If the bottle be now put in a warm
place, the oil will become fluid; and the
impurities subsiding, the clear parts
should be poured off.
As it is obvious that this method can
only be followed in summer, it is better
to prepare it then, to save the expense
of buying it.
To prepare the materials. Prime the
piece to be gilded with drying oil mixed
with a little yellow ochre, and a very
small proportion of vermilliou. If the
work is delicate, it may be necessary t
rub down any inequalities with
paper, or fish-skin, and then with : '
rushes.
When the priming is dry, it is ;
for sizing ; which is done either
the fat-oil alone, or with fat-oil an ;
japauuer's gold size, either in equal
quantities, or as may seem fit. li ;h
gold size be omitted, the gilding is les-
glo.ssy, and is slower in drying; ifu.ned,
the material is sooner fit for gilding, in
proportion to the quantity of gold size
to the fat-oil.
To size the w >rk, mix the fat oil an >
gold si/e in such proportions as npi ea
necessary, incorporate some yell)
ochre with them, and then, by means
340
GILDING.
of a brush, lay this thinly over the
work, taking care to dip down into all
the hollows if it is cawed : and as much
depends on the sizing, it should be re-
peated a second, or even a third time,
if perfection is required.
When thus treated, and allowed to
remain in a cool dry place, it will soon
be ready to receive the leaf. If the sur-
face, on being touched with the finger,
daubs, or comes off, it is not sufficiently
dry, and must be kept longer ; if it
feels slightly clammy, it is fit to receive
the gold leaf; if there be no clammi-
ness, it is too dry, and must be sized
over again.
To lay on the gold leaf. The fitness
of the work to receive the gold leaf,
having been tested in the manner de-
scribed above, the leaves may belaid on
entire, where the surface is sufficiently
large and plain to receive them, either
by means of the squirrel's tail, or
immediately from the book, which is
far more simple, and quicker. The
leaves being laid on, the ground must
be compressed where it is necessary, with
the cotton dabber, or squirrel's tail. If
any part of the work is uncovered by
the leaf, either from accident or other-
wise, a piece of another leaf, of corre-
sponding form and dimensions, must
be laid on the spot ; and where the
parts are too small to receive whole
leaves, or vacancies occur, a leaf
should be tui'ned from the book upon
the cushion, and cut, by means of the
knife, into the proper form and size ;
after which, being taken up, by means
of the squirrel's tail, or cotton dabber,
which is done by gently breathing on
them, the piece is to be laid on the part
to be covered, and lightly pressed, till
it adheres firmly and evenly every-
where.
Should the carving present such deep
hollows that the tail or dabber cannot
reach them, the leaf or pieces must be
taken up with one of the small camel's
hair pencils (previously breathed upon),
and placed on the spot, where it must
be pressed and smoothed with another
dry pencil.
The gilding being finished, the work
should be set aside to dry, and then
brush with the hog's-hair brush oir
squirrel's tail, to remove the superfluous
gold. If, after this is done, any parts
remain uncovered, they must be sized
with japauuer's gold size alone, and
then gilt.
II. Japanners gilding is the gilding
by the means of gold powder, or imita-
tions of it, cemented to the basi.s by a
kind of gold size similar to drying oil,
which can be made by either of the
following receipts :
Japannersyold size. 1. Take of gum
animi and asphaltum each one ounce ;
of red lead, litharge of gold, and umber,
each one ounce and a half. Reduce
the coarser of these to a fine powder,
mix and put them with a pound of lin-
seed oil into a pipkin, and boil them
gently, constantly stirring with a stick
or spatula, until thoroughly incorpo-
rated. Continue the boiling, frequently
stirring, until, on taking out a small
quantity, it becomes as thick as tar as
it cools. Strain the mixture through
flannel, and keep it until required for
use, carefully stopped up in a bottle,
having a wide mouth. When wanted,
it must be ground with as much ver-
million as will give it an opaqueness,
and diluted sufficiently with oil of tur-
pentine to render it capable of being
worked freely with a pencil. We give
preference to the following recipe, a>
being the more simple and easier of
preparation : 2. Take of linseed oil
one pound, and of gum animi four
ounces. Boil the oil in a pipkin, and
then add the gum auimi finely pow-
dered, gradually stirring each quantity
into the oil until dissolved, before the
addition of another. Let the mixture
boil until it assumes the consistence of
tar on cooling; then strain it while
warm through a coarse cloth, and keep
it for use. Previous to being used, it
must be mixed with vermillion and oil
of turpentine, as directed above.
The gilding with this si/e may be
practised on almost am r substance, whe-
ther wood, metal, leather, or papier
mache ; and no preparation of the work
j is necessary beyond having an even and
I perfectly clean surface.
To 'use the size. Put a proper quan-
HOW PEOPLE TAKE COLD.
341
tity of it, prepared as directed above,
and mixed with the due proportion of
turpentine and vermillion, into a small
-saucer, or tin, such as is used for con-
taining the colours employed in paint-
ing with varnish. Then spread it with
a brush over the working, where the
whole surface is to be gilt, or draw with
it, by means of a pencil, the designs in-
tended, carefully avoiding to touch any
other parts. Let it remain until fit to
receive the gold, which is to be deter-
mined in the same manner as in oil
gilding, by the finger. Being ready to
receive the gold, a piece of wash-leather
must be wound round the fore finger,
dipped in the gold powder, and then
rubbed very lightly over the sized work,
or it may be spread by a soft camel's-
hair pencil. The whole being covered,
it must be left to dry, and then the
loose powder lightly brushed off by a
camel's -hair pencil. When gold leaf is
u*ecl, the method of sizing is the same,
but the operation requires more nicety.
HOW PEOPLE TAKE COLD.
THE time for taking cold is after your
exercise ; the place is in your own house,
or office, or counting-room.
It is not the act of exercise which
gives the cold, but it id the getting cool
; iok after exercising. For example,
you walk very fast to get to the railroad
.station, or to the ferry, or to catch an
omnibus, or to make up time for an ap-
pointment; your mind being ahead of
3'ou, the body make.s an over effort to
keep up with it ; and when you get to
the desired spot, you raise your hat and
find yourself in a perspiration. You
take "a seat, and feeling quite com-
fortable as to temperature, you begin
to talk with a friend, or to read a news-
paper ; and before you are aware of it,
you experience a sensation of dullness,
and the thing is done.
You look around to see where the
cold comes from, and find a window
open near you, or a door, or that you
have taken a seat at the forward part of
the car, and a.s it is moving against the
wind a strong draught is made through
the crevices. Or, it may be, you meet
a friend at a street corner, who wanted
a loan and was quite complimentary,
almost loving ; you did not like to be
rude in the delivery of a two-lettered
monosyllable, and while you were con-
triving to be truthful, polite and safe,
all at the same time, on comes the chilly
feeling from a raw wind at the street
corner, or the slush of mud and water-
in which, for the first time, you notieed
yourself standing.
After any kind of exercise, do not
stand a moment at a street corner for any
body or any thing ; nor at an open door
or Avindow. When you have been ex-
ercising in any way whatever, winter or
summer, go home at once, or to some
sheltered place ; and however warm the
room may seem to be, do not at once
pull off your hat and cloak, but wait
some five minutes or more, and lay
aside one at a time ; thus acting, a cold
is impossible. Notice a moment ; when
you return from a brisk walk, and enter
a warm room, raise your hat, and the
forehead will be moist ; let the hat re-
i main a few moments and feel the fore-
j head again, and it will be dry, showing
that the room is actually cooler than
your body, and that, Avith your outdoor
clothing on, you have cooled off full
' soon.
Among the severest colds known,
I Avere those resulting from sitting down
; to a meal in a cool room after a walk ;
or being engaged in Avriting, and having
let the tire go out, their first admonition
of it \vas that creeping chillness, Avhich
is the ordinary forerunner of severe
cold. Persons have often lost their
i lives by writing or remaining in a room
where there Avas no fire, although the
i weather outside AA r as rather uncomfort-
j able. Sleeping in rooms long unused
! has destroyed the life of many a visitor
i and friend ; our splendid parlours, and
j our nice " spare rooms," help to enrich
many a doctor. Cold sepulchral par-
lours bring diseases, not only to visitors
but to the visited ; for* coming in from
domestic occupations, or from the hurry
of dressing, the heat of the body is
higher than natural, and having no
cloak or hat on in going in to meet a
visitor, and having in addition but little
342
HUMBLE FRIENDS.
vitality, in consequence of the very se-
dentary nature of town life, there is
very little capability of resistance, and
a chill and cold is the result. For
methods of curing colds see Enquire
With hi.
HUMBLE FKIENDS.
BY MRS. SIGOURNEY.
KINDNESS to animals shows an amiable
disposition, and correct principles. The
inferior creation were given for our use,
but not for our abuse or cruelty. Many
of them add gi'eatly to the comfort of
domestic life, and also display qualities
deserving of regard. The noble proper-
ties of the dog, the horse, and the
"half reasoning elephant," have long
been known and praised. But among
the lower grades of animals, especially if
they receive kind treatment, traits of
character are often discovered that sur-
prise or delight us.
Cats, so frequently the objects of
neglect or barbarity, are more sagacious
than is generally supposed. The mother
of four young kittens missed one of her
nurslings, and diligently searched the
house to find it. Then she commenced
calling upon the neighbours, gliding
from room to room, and looking under
sofas and beds, with a troubled air. At
length she found it in a family in the
vicinity, where it had been given by her
mistress. Taking it in her mouth, she
brought it home, and bestowed on it her
nursing cares and maternal caresses for
a few weeks, then carried it back to the
same neighbour, and left it in the same
spot where she found it. It would seem
as if she wished to testify her ap-
probation of the home selected for her
child, and desired only to nurture it
until it should be old enough to fill it
properly.
A cat who had repeatedly had her
kittens taken from her and drowned
immediately after their birth, went to a
barn belonging to the family, quite at a
long distance from the house. She so
judiciously divided her time as to obtain
her meals at home and attend to her
nursery abroad. At length she entered
the kitchen, followed by four of her off-
spring well-grown, all mewing in chorus.
Had she foresight enough to con-
clude that if she could protect them
until they reached a more mature age
they would escape the fate of their un-
fortunate kindred ?
A little girl once sat reading with a
large, favourite cat in her lap. She
was gently stroking it, while it purred
loudly to express its joy. She invited
a person who was near, to feel its
velvet softness. Reluctant to be
interrupted in an industrious occu-
pation that required the use of both
hands, the person did not immediately
comply, but at length touched the
head so abruptly that the cat supposed
itself to have been struck. Resenting
the indignity, it ceased its song, and
continued alternately rolling and closing
its eyes, yet secretly watching, until
both the busy hands had resumed their
employment. Then, stretching forth a
broad, black velvet paw, it inflicted on
the back of one of them a quick stroke,
and jumping down, concealed itself
beneath the chair of its patron. There
seemed in this simple action a nice
adaptation of means to ends ; a prudent
waiting, until the retaliation that was
meditated could be conveniently in-
dulged, and a prompt flight from the
evil that might ensue.
The race of rats are usually con-
sidered remarkable only for voracious-
ness, or for ingenious and mischievous
inventions to obtain the gratification of
appetite. A vessel that had been much
infested by them, was, when in port,
fumigated with brimstone, to expel
them. Escaping in great numbers, they
were dispatched by people stationed for
that purpose. Amid the flying victims,
a group was observed t approach
slowly, upon the board placed between
the vessel and the shore. One of those
animals held in his mouth a stick, the
extremities of which Avere held by two
others, who carefully led him. It wag
discovered that he was blind. The exe-
cutioners suffered them to live ! It was
not in the heart of man to scorn such
an example.
Another of our ships, while in a
foreign port, took similar measures to
THE ANGEL AND THE CHILD.
343
free itself from those troublesome in-
mates. Amid the throngs that fled
from suffocating smoke to slaughtering
foes, one was seen moving laboriously,
as if overburdened. Climbing over the
bodies of his dead companions, he bore
upon his back another, so old as to be
unable to walk. Like JSneas, escaping
from the flames of Troy, perhaps it was
an aged father that he thus carried upon
his shoulders. Whether it was a filial
piety, or respect for age, his noble con-
duct, as in the previous instance, saved
his life and that of his venerable
friend.
Sheep are admired for their innocence
and meekness more than for strong
demonstrations of character. Yet the
owner of a flock was once surprised by
seeing one of his fleecy people rushing
to and fro beneath his window, in great
agitation and alarm. Following her to
the pasture, where she eagerly led the
way, he found a fierce dog tearing the
sheep. Having put him to flight, he
turned in search of the messenger, and
found her in a close thicket, where she
had carefully hidden her own little lamb,
ere she fled to apprise the master of
their danger. This strangely intelli-
gent animal was permitted to live to
the utmost limit of longevity alloted to
her race.
CHILDREN'S FOOD. Liebig says, "The
intelligent and experienced mother or
nurse chooses for the child with
attention to the laws of nature ; she
gives him chiefly milk, and farinaceous
food, always adding fruits to the latter ;
she prefers the flesh of adult animals,
which are rich hi bone earth, to that of
young animals, and always accompanies
it with garden vegetables ; she gives
the child especially bones to gnaw, and
excludes from its diet veal, fish, and
potatoes ; to the excitable child of
weak digestive powers she gives, in its
farinaceous food, infusion of malt, and
xases milk sugar, the respiratory matter
prepared by nature herself for the
respiratory process, in preference to
cane sugar; and she allows him the
unlimited use of salt."
THE ANGEL AND THE CHILD.
BY HANS ANDERSEN.
"EACH time that a good child dies,
an angel of God comes down to earth,
takes the dead child in his arms,
spreads abroad his large snow-white
wings, flies forth over all those places
which the child had loved, and plucks
a whole handful of flowers, which he
bears upward with him to the throne
of God, that they may bloom there in
yet greater loveliness than they have
ever blossomed on earth. The good
God folds all these flowers to His
bosom, but upon the flower which He
loveth best, He breathes a kiss, and
then a voice is given to it, and it can
join in the song of universal blessedness."
All this did an angel of God relate,
whilst he bore a little child to heaven ;
and the child heaixl as if in a dream,
and the angel winged his flight over
those spots in the child's home where
the little one had been wont to play,
and they passed through gardens which
were filled with glorious flowers.
"Which of all these shall we take
with us, aud plant in heaven ? " asked
the angel.
Now there stood in the garden a
slender and beautiful rose-tree, but a
wicked hand had broken the stem, so
that its boughs hung around : it
withered, though laden with large half-
unfolded buds.
" The poor rose-tree !" said the child ;
" let us take it with us, that it may
bloom above in the presence of God."
And the angel took the rose-tree, and
kissed the child, because of the words
it had spoken ; aud the little one half
opened his eyes. They then plucked
some of the gorgeous flowers which
grew in the garden, but they also
gathered the despised buttercup, and
the wild heart' s-ease.
" Now when we have flowers !" ex-
claimed the child, and the angel bowed
his head ; but he winged not yet his
flight toward the throne of God. It
\va.s night, all was still ; they re-
mained in the great city ; they hovered
over one of the narrow streets, in
which lay heaps of straw, ashes, and
rubbish, for it was flitting day.
THE ANGEL AND THE CHILD.
Fragments of plates, broken mortar,
rags, and old bats, lay scattered around,
- -all which bore an uninviting aspect.
The angel pointed out, in the midst
of all this confused rubbish, some
broken fragments of a flower-pot, and
a clump of earth, which had fallen out
of it, and was only held together by
the withered roots of a wild flower,
which had been thrown out into the
street because it was considered utterly
worthless.
" We will take this with us," said the
angel ; " and I will tell thee why, as
we soar upward together to the throne
of God."
So they resumed their flight, and the
aagel thus related his story :
" Down in that narrow street, in the
lowest cellar, there once dwelt a poor
sick boy ; from his very infancy he
was almost bed-riden. On his best
days he could take two or three turns
on crutches across his little chamber,
iind that was all he could do. On a
few days in summer, the beams of the
sun used to penetrate for half an hour
to the floor of the cellar; and when
the poor boy sat there, and let the
warm sun shine upon him, and looked
the bright red blood flowing through
his delicate fingers, as he held them
before his face, then it was said of him,
' He has been out to day.' A neigh-
bour's son used always to bring him one
of the young boughs of the beech-tree,
when it was first budding into life, and
this was all he knew of the woods in
their beauteous clothing of spring ver-
dure. Then would he place this bough
above his head, and dream that he was
under the beech-trees, where the sun
was shining aoid the birds were singing.
On one spring day, the neighbour's son
also brought him .some wild flowers,
and among these there happened to be
one which had retained its root, and
for this reason it was placed in a flower-
pot, and laid upon the window-sill
quite close to the bed. And the
flower was planted by a fortunate hand,
and it grew and sent forth new shoots,
and bore flowers every year; it was
the sick boy's most precious flower-
garden his little treasure here on
earth ; he watered it, and cherished it,
and took care that the very last sun-
beam which glided through the lowly
I window should shine upon its blossoms.
I And these flowers were interwoven
j even in his dreams for him they
i bloomed, for lihn. they shed around
j their fragrance and rejoiced the eye
t with their beauty ; and when the Lord
| called him hence, he turned, even in
death, towards his cherished plant.
He has now been a year with God
a year has the flower stood forgotten
in the window, and now it is withered ;
i therefore has it been thrown out with
the rubbish into the street. And this
is the flower the poor withered flower
which we have added to our nosegay ;
for this flower has imparted more joy
than the rarest and brightest blossom
which ever bloome i in the garden of a
queen."
" But how comest thou to know all
! this ?" asked the child whom the
angel was bearing with him to heaven.
" I know it," replied the angel, " for
L was myself the little sick boy who
went upon crutches. I know my
flower well."
And now the child altogether unclosed
his eyes, and gazed into the bright,,
glorious countenance of the angel, and
at the same moment they found them-
selves in the Paradise of God, where
joy and blessedness for ever dwell. i
And God folded the dead child to
His heart, and he received wings, like
the other angel, and flew hand-in-hand
i with him. And all the flowers also
j God folded to His heart ; but upon the
poor withered wild flower He breathed
' a kiss, and a voice was given to it, and
it sang together with all the angels
which encircled the Throne of God ;
some very nigh unto His presence,
others encompassing these in ever
widening circles until they reached
\ into Infinity itself but all alike were
happy. And they all sang with one
i voice, little and great ; the good blessed
j child, and the poor wild flower, which
had lain withered and cast out among
the sweepings, and under the rubbish
of the flitting clay, in the midst of the
dark, narrow street.
THE ART OF LIFE.
345
THE ART OF LIFE.
LIFE is an art. When we consider what
life may be to all, and what it is to
most, we shall see how little this art is
yet understood. What life may be to
all is shown us in the lives of the
honoured few whom we have learned
to distinguish from the rest of mankind,
and to worship as the heroes and saints
of the world. What life is to most is
seen wherever we turn our eyes.
To all life may be freedom, progress,
success. To most men it is bondage,
failure, defeat. Some have declared
all life to be a tragedy. The life of
most men is rightly so termed. What
can be more tragical than after long
years of weary watching and ceaseless
toil, in which all the joy and strength
of our days had been wasted in pursuit
of some distant good, to find, at last,
that the good thus sought was a shadow
a sham ; that the sum total of our
endeavour, with no positive increase,
has left us minus our youth, our facul-
ties, our hope, and that the threescore
years have been a livelong illusion.
Such is the actual condition of man-
kind.
Look at our educated men. Of the
hundreds whom every year sends forth
to wander in the various paths of active
life, how many are there who find or
even seek the bread that alone can
satisfy the hungering, dreaming heart
of man ? How many sell their strength
and waste their days, and "file their
minds," in the pursuit of some vain
object, or some phantom which they
term a competence, or, at best, some
dream of fame ; and find, when the race
is done, and the heat is won, that they
are no nearer than before the true end
of their being, and that the great work
of life is still to do !
The work of life, so far as the in-
dividual is concerned, and that to which
the scholar is particularly called, is self-
culture the perfect unfolding of our
individual nature. To this end, above
all others, the art of which we speak
directs our attention and points our
endeavour. There is no man, it is
presumed, to whom this object is wholly
indifferent, who would not willingly
possess this, too, along with other
prizes, provided the attainment of it
were compatible with personal ease and
worldly good. But the business of
self-culture admits of no compromise.
Either it must be made a distinct aim,
or wholly abandoned.
" I respect the man," says Goethe
"who knows distinctly what he wishes.
The greater part of all the mischief in
the world arises from the fact that men.
do not sufficiently understand their
own aims. They have undertaken to
build a tower, and spend no more
labour on the foundation than would
be necessary to erect a hut." Is not
this an exact description of most men's
strivings? Every man undertakes to
build his tower, and no one counts the
cost.
In all things the times are marked
by a want of steady aim and patient
indxistry. There is scheming and
plotting in abundance, but no consider-
ate, persevering effort. The young
man launches into life with no definite
course in view. If he goes into trade,
he has perhaps a general desire to be
rich : but he has, at the same time, an
equally strong desire for present grati
fication and luxurious living. He is
unwilling to pay the price of his ambi-
tion. He endeavours to secure the
present, and lets go the future. He
turns seedtime into hai-vest, and eats
the corn which he ought to plant.
If he goes into professional life, he
sets out with a general desire to be
eminent, but without considering in
what particular he wishes to excel, and
what is the price of that excellence.
So he divides his time and talents
among a great variety of pursuits ;
endeavouring to be all things, he
becomes superficial in proportion as he
is universal, and having acquired r.
brief reputation, as worthless as ib is
short-lived, siuks down into ho;
insignificance.
Most things that man desires may be
had for a price. The world is truer to
us than we are to ourselves. In the
great bargain of life no one is duped but
by his own miscalculations, or banded
but by his own unstable will. If any
346
THE ART OF LIFE.
man fail in the thing which he desires,
it is because he is not true to himself,
he has no sufficient inclination to the
object in question. He is unwilling
to pay the price which it costs.
Of self-culture, as of all other things
worth seeking, the price is a single de-
votion to that object; a devotion which
shall exclude all aiuis and ends that do
not directly or indirectly tend to
promote it. In this service let no man
flatter himself with the hope of light
work and ready wages. The work is
hard, and the wages are slow. Better
pay in money, or in fame, may be found
in any other path than this.
The motives to engage in this work
are its own inherent worth, and the
sure satisfaction which accompanies the
consciousness of progress in the true
direction toward the stature of a perfect
man. Let him who would build this
tower consider well the cost, whether
in energy and endurance he have suffi-
cient to finish it.
Much that he has been accustomed
to consider as most desirable he will
have to renounce. Much that other
men esteem as highest, and follow after
as the grand reality, he will have to
forego. No emoluments must seduce
him from the rigour of his devotion.
N"o engagements beyond the merest
necessities of life must interfere with
his pursuit.
A meagre economy must be his
income. "Spare fast, that oft with
gods doth diet," must be his fare. The
rusty coat must be his badge. Obscu-
rity must be his distinction. He must
consent to see younger and smaller
men take their places above him in the
world. He must become a living
sacrifice, and dare to lose his life in order
that he may find it.
On all hands man's existence is con-
yerted into a preparation for existence.
We do not properly live in these days,
but everywhere, with patent inventions
and complex arrangements, are getting
ready to live ; like that king of Epiras
who was all his lifetime preparing to
take his ease, but must first conquer
the world. The end is lost in the
means. Life is smothered in appliances.
We cannot get to ourselves, there are
so many external comforts to wade
through.
Conciousness stops half way. Re-
flection is dissipated in the circum-
stances of our environment. Goodness
is exhausted in aids to goodness, and all
the vigour and health of the soul is
expended in quack contrivances to
build it up. We are paying dearer
than we imagine for our boasted
improvements. The highest life, the
highest enjoyment, the point at which,
after all our wanderings, we mean to
land, is the life of the mind the
enjoyment of thought.
Between this life and any point of
outward existence, there is never but one
step, and that step is an act of the will,
which no aids from without can super-
sede or even facilitate. We travel round
and round in a circle of facilities, and
come at last to the point from which we
sot out. The mortal leap remains still
to be made.
With these objects and tendenciea
the business of self-culture has nothing
to do. The scholar must expect nothing
from society, but may deem, himself
happy, if for the day's labour, which ne-
cessity imposes, society will give him
his hire, and beyond that will leave him
free to follow his proper calling ; which
he must either pursue with exclusive
devotion, or wholly abandon. The
more needful is it that he bring to the
conflict the Promethean spirit of en-
durance which belongs of old to his
work and line.
Besides this voluntary abstinence
from temporal advantages and public
affairs, the business of self-culture re-
quires a renunciation of present noto-
riety, and a seclusion more or less
rigorous from the public eye. The
world is too much with us. We live
out of door. An all-present publicity
attends our steps. Our life is in print.
At every turn we are gazetted and shown
up to ourselves ; society has become a
chamber of mirrors, where our slightest
movement is brought home to us with
a thousand old reflections.
The consequence is a morbid con-
sciousness, a habit of living for effect,
THE PROPERTIES OF HEAT.
347
utterly incompatible with wholesome
effort ami an earnest mind. No heroic
character, no depth of feeling, or clear-
ness of insight can ever come of such a
life. All that is best in human attain-
ments springs from retirement.
Whoso has conceived within himself
any sublime and fruitful thought, or
proposed to himself any great work of
life, has been guided thereto by soli-
tary musing. In the ruins of the
capitol, Gibbon conceived his immortal
"Rome." In a cavern, on the banks of
the S;iale, Klopstock meditated his
" Messiah." In the privacy of Wools-
thorpe, Newton surmised the law which
pervades the All. In the solitude of
Erfurt, Luther received into his soul
the new evangile of faith and freedom.
In retirement we first become ac-
quaittted with ourselves, our means, and
ends. There, no strange form inter-
poses between us and the truth ; no
paltry vanity cheats us with false shows
and aims ; the film drops from our
eyes. While we gaze, the vision
brightens; while we muse, the fire
burns.
Retirement, too, is the parent of free-
dom. From living much among men
we come to ape their views and faiths,
and order our principles, our lives, as
we do our coats, by the fashion of the
times. Let him who aspires to popular
favour and the suffrage of his contem-
poraries court the public eye. But
whoso would perfect himself and bless
the world with any great work or
example, must hide his young days
somewhat in " some reclusive and re-
ligious life, out of all eyes, tongues,
minds, and injuries."
THE PROPERTIES OF HEAT.
BY B. G. A.
THE number three seems to be a
sort of favourite in Nature. In fact,
the subject is worthy of notice, and we
were led specially to notice it while
preparing this paper. There are three
forms of matter viz., solid, liquid,
and gas or vapour. There are three
kinds of heat heat specific, heat la-
tent, and heat radiant. There are
three ways in which heat is communi-
catedby conduction, convection, and
radiation.
It was these facts which led us to
notice number three. In the first
place we have the three kingdoms
animal, vegetable, and mineral. Then
in man himself the same number is
found, for man consists of a soul, a
body, and the action of the two, or the
operative energy. His body is essen-
tially composed of three bone, flesh,
and tendons ; the bones are essentially
composed of cartilage, osseous matter,
and marrow. Nay, even the teeth are
three pulp, enamel, and dentine. Man
takes in three kinds of food gas (atmo-
sphere), liquid, and solid. The solid
matter of the earth consists chiefly of
silex, alumina, and lime. But we have
shown enough of this curious triism,
and will go on with the subject which
suggested the idea to us, viz., Heat.
Now there are two forces constantly
acting in opposition to each other
cohesive attraction and heat. Heat
tends to drive the atoms of matter
farther from one another, while cohe-
sive attraction tends to bring them
nearer to each other.
Heat, by overcoming cohesive attrac-
tion, converts solids into liquids, and
liquids into gases ; and thus, the heat
of the sun converts the water of the sea
into vapour, which floats in the atmo-
sphere, and gives rise to rain, hail,
snow, and dew.
The first effect of heat on solids is
expansion, and then liquefaction. A
practical example of expansion by heat
is shown in the manner in which the
parts of carriage-wheels are bound to-
gether : the tire or iron-hand is made
a little smaller than the circumference
of the wooden pai't of the wheel ; beirfg
put on while it is enlarged by heat, it
is suddenly cooled, and by its contrac-
tion binds the parts of the compound
wheel together.
All matter consists of atoms, which
are, under all circumstances, of the same
size, shape, and weight.
But we have said that solids expand
by heat. Now this expansion takes
place, not by any increase in the size of
the atoms which compose the solid,
348
THE PROPERTIES OF HEAT.
but by an increase in the spaces between
the atoms themselves.
In a solid, the atoms are held firmly
together ; that is, when cohesion, or
cohesive attraction, predominates over
the repulsion due to heat. In a liquid,
the atoms are held together so slightly
that they can move over one another ;
or, cohesion and repulsion are exactly
balanced.
And in a gas or vapour, the atoms
are constantly tending to go farther
from each other, because the repulsion
predominates.
Thus, then, we see that a portion
of matter is in reality "a portion of
space not entirely filled with matter."
Heat converts liquids, by an enor-
mous expansion, into airs, gases, or
vapours.
The expansibility of fluids by heat is
still greater than that of solids.
The expansion of water may be
shown by partly filling a glass bulb,
having a long tube attached to it, with
coloured water : immersion in a jar of j
hot water will occasion the water con-
tained in the bulb and tube to expand
and rise higher. Those liquids are the
most expansible which require the least
heat to make them boil. Mercury does
not expand so much as water ; spirit of
wine expands more than water, and
chloroform more than spirit of wine.
In liquids there can be no change of
temperature without a displacement of
particles.
Take a vessel a pan, for instance
fill it with water, and place it on the
fire. You apply heat to the bottom of
the pan, and of course the particles of
water at the bottom of the vessel be-
come firstheated heating expands them
- and, becoming specifically lighter,
they ascend, while colder particles
from the top take their place ; and thus
a sort of current is created by each par-
ticle as fast as it gets heated, conveying
itself away and giving place to colder
ones. The process is called convection.
If, however, we take a test tube,* and
put in it a small lump of ice, and then
fill it three-quarters full of cold water,
ich as rany be bought for 2d. or 3d.
each.
we can, by applying heat, such as that
of a spirit-lamp, to the upper portion of
the w;iter, actually boil the water at the
surface while the ice remains undis-
solvecl. This arises from water being
a bad conductor of heat. Water affords
a remarkable exception to the law that
matter expands by heat and contracts
by cold. We do not mean to say that-
water does not expand when heated or
contract when cooled, but the proposi-
tion is true only to a certain extent.
Above 394 degrees it does obey the
general law, and become steam ; below
39| degrees it does not obey the law,
but acts directly in opposition to it;
for then it expands, as is well illustrated
in its power of bursting asunder earth-
enware and even metal vessels in which
it may be frozen. When, however, it
becomes ice, the general law again ope-
rates, and ice contracts and expands as
any other solid does.
A most beautiful law this exception
is a most striking instance of Divine
love and wisdom. Let us take, for in-
stance, a pond of fresh water on a win-
ter's night. The surface water first
becomes cooled and thus denser, and
sinks ; and this goes on until all the
water has a temperature of about 39
degrees, when the surface water freezes,
the law becomes reversed, and instead
of continuing to increase in density, it
becomes lighter than the water beiow,
and swims on the surface as ice. Ice is
a bad conductor of heat, and thus the
water beneath is kept from the cooling
influence of the atmosphere. Suppose-
the exception did not exist, and that, as
water froze, it sank. The desolation of
the frigid zones would overspread the-
fair surface of our earth. Our rivers
would become solid masses of ice the
heat of the sun would be unable per-
fectly to thaw it. Winter after winter
would the solid masses be increased
glaciers would accumulate, temperate
and tropical vegetation would be de-
stroyed, the extinction of the greater
portion of the animal kingdom \vould.
follow, a few lichens and mosses, and a
few polar animals would be the sole
remnants of the varied forms of vege-
table and animal life now existing.
THE CHEMISTRY AND GEOLOGY OF GOLD.
349
Man himself would at length succumb
before the all-pervading cold, and our
globe would travel its appointed round,
u weary scene of barren icicles.
Dense bodies are well known to be
the best conductors of heat. Porous
and loose substances are mean con-
ductors. Wood, straw, &c., are bad
conductors of heat.
A very simple experiment will show
both the good conducting power of
metal and ulno the principle of the Davy
Lamp. Take a little copper wire say
a piece a foot long coil it half a dozen
times round a penholder ; you will then
have a little coil of wire, and the re-
mainder will do for a handle. Take a
lighted candle and slip the coil of cool
wire over the wick ; the flame will be
BO much reduced in temperature by the
cooling influence of the wire as to be-
come extinguished. Light the candle
take off the coil and heat it; while
hot, apply it in like manner. You will,
however, no longer have the same re-
sult; for the wire being heated, ab-
stracts no heat from the flame. Now
the Davy lamp i.s just a common oil
lamp, surrounded by fine wire gauze.
The fire dam}), which is an inferior car-
bide of hydrogen, enters and becomes
inflamed; but the gauze, by cooling
the flame, prevents it passing through
to the external gas, and thus also pre-
vents an explosion. The cooling power
of wire gauze may be easily demon-
strated by placing a bit of camphor on
n piece of wire gauze, held over the
flame of a candle ; the heat cannot pass
through, and the camphor is not in-
flamed.
But interesting though the subject
be, we cannot pursue it further. The
ponderous tome of Nature written in
language to be understood by all is,
in our time, beginning to be read.
*Slighted it has been ; but the period of
neglect is passed, and men are now
learning to read the teachings that, in
great and glorious characters, it has so
long had prepared for them.
THERE are three sorts of friends-
friends who like you, friends who do oot
care for you, and friends who hate yon..
THE CHEMISTRY AND GEOLOGY
OF GOLD.
SELDOM since the elevation of geology
to a place among the sciences, have its
claims to notice as a practically useful
study been so prominently brought
forward as since the first tidings of
Australian gold reached England.
On all sides do we hear intending
emigrants eagerly inquiring for the best
way " to tell gold" or see them, from
the works of our geologists, endeavour-
ing to ascertain the most favourable
localities for finding it. Chemistry and
mineralogy can answer their first, and
practical geology their second question.
Often have we had lumps of copper
and iron pyrites brought to us, with
the request, " Would you be kind
enough to tell us whether this is gold ?"
and often have we smiled at the ludi-
crous change of countenance in the in-
quirer, as we assured him that the fan-
cied treasure was naught but sulphuret
of iron.
Gold is the only yellow metal, and is
always found in a metallic state rarely
pure, and always presents the yellow
character which belongs to it.
When a piece of iron is left exposed
I to the action of the atmosphere, it be-
1 comes oxidated, or rusts, and rust is
oxide of iron ; gold,, however, does not
tarnish when exposed in air, on account
of its feeble affinities ; and can be
melted and kept fluid without change
for any length of time.
We' have, however, seen gold burn,
which it does with a greenish flame,
when exposed to a strong electric or
galvanic spark.
Gold requires a strong heat to melt
it 2,840 Fahrenheit being necessary
f or that purpose. To talk of gold steam
may appear extraordinary, yet it has
been discovered that when in a state of
fusion, it is, to a small extent, con-,
verted into vapour.
The extreme malleability of golffeife
well known ; and here is one te.it- by
which it can be distinguished frQa iron
and copper pyrites. Give the mineral,
or rather a little bit of it, p^nuwt rap
on a hard substance, witla hammer;,
and if it be gold, you. will,
350
THE CHEMISTRY AND GEOLOGY OF GOLD.
flatten it a little ; but if either of the
two above-named substances, it will
smash into little bits. Indeed, this
test applies to the smallest atom ; for a
scale of gold can be picked up on the
point of a needle, which cannot be
done with the sulphuret either of iron
or copper.* Again, gold is not acted
upon by any single acid; but when
nitric and muriatic acids are mixed,
they decompose each other, producing
chlorine ; and nitrous acid, and a mix-
ture of these two acids, called nitro-
rnuriatic acid, or aqua rcgia, has the
power of dissolving gold.
If, however, we take copper pyrites,
we shall find, that when dissolved in
acid, if a knife-blade be dipped in the
solution, it will be covered with a preci-
pitation of copper ; or if we take iron
pyrites, dissolve it in spirits of salt or
muriatic acid, in which we have put a
few drops of nitric acid, and then add
a little prussiate of potash, we will get
a bright blue precipitate, which is
Prussian blue.
Perhaps as easy a test for gold as any
is, when it is dissolved in aqua regia,
to add chloride of tin, on which a
purple precipitate will be thrown down.
The following are thedirections lately
given by Dr. Lyon Playfair for examin-
ing a mineral to ascertain whether it
contains gold : " Supposing you have
auriferous quartz, reduce it to powder,
and boil with aqua regia. After dilut-
ing it with water, pass the solution
through a filter, allow it to cool, and
add a solution of carbonate of soda,
until it ceases to effervesce. Filter
again, and add oxalic acid until the
effervescence cease, and it tastes sour ;
then boil, and if there be any gold
present, it will be precipitated as a
black powder.
In addition to copper and iron py-
rites, however, there is another sub-
stance, totally unlike gold, but some-
times mistaken for it : it is called yel-
low mica, and may be easily known
* Gold has been formed into wire of the
diameter of only l-5,000th of an inch 550
feet of it weighing only 1 grain ; and has
been beaten into leaves only l-280,000th of an
inch in thickness.
from gold by its non-metallic lustre, its
foliated structure, its low specific gra-
vity, and the harsh scraping noise made
when a knife-point is drawn over it. Gold
has a powerful affinity for mercury,
and this property is made use of to col-
lect small particles of gold, unpre-
servable in any other way. When the
mercury has gathered up the gold, they
are easily separated, because mercury,
being liquid at ordinary temperatures,
rises in vapour considerably below a
red heat, leaving the gold, with which
it had been amalgamated, in a pure
state behind it. Gold generally occurs
alloyed with silver, from which it can
be separated by nitric acid, which dis-
solves the silver, and leaves the gold ;
or by a mixture of nitric and muriatic
acids, which dissolves the gold and
leaves the silver, as chloride of silver.
And now for a few words on the
geology of gold. All the rocks which
compose the crust of our globe are
divided by geologists into two great
groups, stratified and unstratified
rocks. The former are also called
aqueous, and the latter igneous. Gold
occurs in both divisions. When the
igneous rocks were forming they caused,
by being intruded among some of the
aqueous rocks, great disturbance and dis-
location. A group of strata, lying hori-
zontally, would, by the action of an
igneous rock beneath, then in a state of
fusion, be suddenly lifted up, fractured
in various directions, and left, when the
intruding rock had cooled, with cracks
and fissures running through them in
various directions. These veins are
now, after the lapse of ages, found filled
up with various substances quartz,
lead, tin, copper, silver, and gold. Here
then, is the first class of the deposits in
which gold occurs viz., in lodes or
veins. In quartz veins, it occurs either
in crystals or in amorphous lumps and
masses, or in small grains.
It is worthy of remark here, that all
the great mountain chains, found to be
auriferous, run, it is believed, from
north to south ; and the lodes intersect
the solid rock in a direction more or less
perpendicular to the horizon.
All the stratified rocks have been de
MODESTY.
351
posited in water, principally under the
sea; but, since their formation, they
have been raised into dry land in some
places, and there remain now ; in other
places, after being elevated, they have
been again depressed, and received a
new accession of sediment, and then
been again elevated, and so on. The
effect of the action of the ocean upon
the land is to wear it down, and deposit
it in the form of sediment. Now, when
the sea acts on a sandstone rock, the
worn-down fragments become sand, and
the bed of the sea is sandy ; and so on
with any other rock. Should the rock
on which the sea acts contain any
mineral, the bed of the sea will have
portions of that substance deposited
upon it ; and when the waters act upon
rocks containing gold, fragments of the
auriferous mass would be broken off,
and deposited, as we have stated, in an
auriferous dtift.
When gold is found on the banks of
a river, it is generally an error to sup-
pose that it has been worn down from
the original rocks by the force of the
running water. The rivers of most
countries flow through the very same
valleys in which the latest accumula-
tions of drift have been deposited ; and
where that drift contains gold, the river,
in its action on the materials composing
it. 3 banks, carries off the gold contained
in them.
Of "diggins" then, there are two
sorts wet and dry ; the former carried
on in the bed of a river, and the latter
in the deposit of drift itself. Actual
gold mining can never be as profitable
as gold washing ; for while in the one
case the solid rock has to be quarried,
and crushed, and washed ; in the other,
all three processes have, by the action
of water, been already accomplished.
And if it be true, as is sometimes
affirmed, that the quartz veins have
mosb gold near the surface, it follows
that, if the upper poi-tion of the rocks
has been washed away, only the lower
portion, or that inferior in richness,
will remain.
In addition to the division of rocks
already named, those which are called
stratified are subdivided into three great
groups, called, palaeozoic, such as the
limestones at Dudley and the coal beds
of Lancashire ; secondary, such as the
chalk of Kent ; and tertiary, as the clay
at London. Each of these has, within
itself, many subdivisions, with which
however, we have at present nothing to
do. The palaeozoic are the most ancient
or first-formed deposits, and the tertiary
the most recent of the three. Both
these are found in Australia ; but, as
far as is known, no secondary rocks are
found in that country ; and it is the
older palaeozoic, and the newest tertiaries,
that are the most likely formations for
finding gold ; in the older tertiaries,
and in the secondary rocks, it is never
found, and time spent in looking for it
there is but time wasted.
For full instructions how to dis-
tinguish the different groups of rocks,
we must refer to the admirable works
of Dr. Mantell and Sir C. Lyell. Wo
trust our readers will now see that both
chemistry and geology are practically
useful to man in his pursuit after
worldly wealth ; and yet we believe that
the acquisition of earthly riches i.s nob
the only benefit derivable from them.
They open to us a page of one of God's
books the book of nature ; and teach
us to believe, in all confidence, that that
Divine Providence which has wrought
so many marvels in our globe, to fit it
for man's habitation, will never cease to
watch over man's happiness, "will
withhold no good thing " from him :
" Men's books with heaps of chaff are stored ;
God's book doth golden grains afford ;
Then leave the chaff, and spend thy pains
In gathering up the gol
BERNABD.
MODESTY. Modesty is one of the
leading characteristics of great minds.
Newton, whose discoveries filled the
world, and revolutionised the whole em-
pire of science, was one of the most un-
assuming of men. The mighty intellect
and vast achievements of Laplace only
rendered him more conscious of his own
ignorance ; so true it is, that the more
men know, the less do they think of
themselves.
352
TRIADS.
BARKBOUND TREES. Some ovenvise
people have an idea that when
gets massy and barkbouud the latter
another term for the want of growth
aud weakness, consequent upon neg-
lected cultivation it is only necessai-y
the bark up and down the stem
with a jack-knife, aud it will at once
spread cvat and grow. This is sheer
nonsense. Dig about and cultivate the
roots, and the bark will take care of
itself, with a scraping off the moss and
washing of the stem with ley or soap-
suds, or chamber slops, which last is
quite as good. The increased flow of
the sap, induced by a liberal feeding of
the roots, will do its own bursting of
the " hide-bound '' bark which is simply
its enfeebled condition as a consequence
of its poverty of root.
LATE SOWING. It is by no means re-
commendable to sow wheat very late,
except in cases of emergency like the
.present time ; but for the encourage-
ment of agriculturists, we beg to state
that cur experimental wheat last season
was sown on the 2nd of January, equal
to three quarts of seed per acre, and
was transplanted at the latter part of
February ; and, notwithstanding other
disadvantages to which it was subjected,
viz., destructive birds, blight, aud wet
in harvest time, it produced 1^ peck per
rod, equal to 7.J, quarters "per acre.
Another crop, sown the same day, in
double rows, at wide distances, five feet
apart, for a crop of early potatoes in the
centre, at the rate of two quarts per
acre (which, by the bye, proved too
thick), yet answered admirably, the
produce of the corn being equal to 3
quarters per acre, and the potatoes a
sound fair crop, fully matured ; their
tops were cleared away, and after crops
of other productions introduced by the
beginning of July. We have specimens
of stubble from this crop for inspection,
raised from single grains, whicli pro-
duced upwards of thirty ears, and nearly
2,000 fold. It may be remarked that
the cultivation of barley, on the same
principle, answers equally well, and
that early dwarf peas, in both cases,
may be substituted occasionally, and
with profit, for the potatoes. Abraham
Hardy and Sons, Seed-growers and
Seedsmen, Maldon, Essex.
TRIADS.
THREE things to love. Courage, gentleness, affection.
Three things to admire. Intellectual power, dignity, gracefulness.
Three things to hate. Cruelty, arrogance, ingratitude.
Three things to despise. Meanness, affectation, envy.
Three things to reverence. Religion, justice, self-denial.
Three things to delight in. Beauty, frankness, freedom.
Three things to wish for. Health, friends, a cheerful spirit.
Three things to pray for. Faith, peace, purity of heart.
Three things to esteem. Wisdom, prudence, firmness.
Three things to like. Cordiality, good humour, mirthfulness.
Three things to suspect. Flattery, hypocrisy, sudden affection.
Three things to avoid. Idleness, loquacity, flippant jesting.
'Three things to cultivate. Good hooks, good friends, good humour.
'Three things to contend for. Honour, country, friends.
Three things to govern. Temper, impulse, the tongue.
Three things to be prepared for. Change, decay, death.
Just Published, Price 2s. Ctd., cloth gilt, uniform with " KN^l'I !:K WITHIN
UPON K V K 11 V THING,"
NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS,
ra OF
TEN THOUSAND ANSWERS TO THE QUESTIONS OP COEEESPONDENTS, BY
THE EDITOES OF THE BEST PAPEES AND MAGAZINES.
: -tint; book than this. It co::
information upon many subjects which cannot ; -tained from any other -
No Dictionary, no Eiicyclop;i'di;e, nor oilier work, will suppl
that, in most cases, re written to upon the varioj,
TJOX TUKKKOX
The volume contains three thousand and fifty paragraphs, and ,-n an
average, answer three or four questions each. The whole, is rendered a
borate analytical Index, occupying twenty-c-ijrht p
The folio-wing extract of a few of the references of the Inih to show the great
utility (f tlie work .
'riage in Minority.
Consequences of
Marriage (Re-marr
of I'l-rsollS who
lice:. -
tioll. ! the
Validity of tin
tract " ...
Marriage Kim.-, i
for
ased
V,' it-
Scot
Marria- i un-
der 1 >cath
should inn-
Children, Statistics of Ille-
sitimate 740
Children. Time Allowed to
Uri>ter Hirtiis <J77
Children actually Born in
Wedlock. Husband's
Maintenance of 1254
Children. Who has a riirht
to them when Wife De-
serts ii vishi'.nd -. ... 9
Children i;<>:-n llletritimate
... '2-2Q
Children. !.i;-.bility <<f 1'u-
C'hildren. Desertion of,
Liabii a in
Childre ;Udes
'
Childm
. \\ lieu Husband
and V' para-
ted Si
Children, Illegitimate in
England, D
mised bv Scotch Mar-
' 199
Childre. f illc-
iritim;'.!
CfTildre.
Compelled to support
their !':
Children lioni out of
(ireat liritain, I.:i
...
hildren. Liability of
to Supi:cri their Pa-
rents
VS.1
1793
Husband.derivation of T i .
Husband who Marries a
Widow.Limitof Liability
for Children
Husband whose Wife De-
him 935
Husband Compelled to
Cive Wife Support Pro-
portionate to hi> '
Husband Dvintr without
a Will. Wife's Ui'-'ht ... 188
Husband, Second. Liability
Of, Tor V, r .. 300
Puuia
IluO.and Liable Tor IM.ts
of Wife prior to Marria
Husband :-.i\ti
wliom 1'ayable
Husband and Wife,
s with Plea-
off ... . 1901
Husband. Desertion by,
Wife's Settlement. ... 1809
Husband's (Jo,
of by the W;.
able'by Action
Husband's Desertion, and
Wife's Second Mar.
Penal Con-- 2929
Husband's Liability for
ration. With Ai.
Husband's Liability for
Wit. . 910
Husband's Liability where
Wife applies to 1 :
( )ceurred
M::r.ia^eb,
ivssarv
\.n'\ :ri.l C-.-t of
l.ON Dt
HOULSToX AN!
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