visited by a physician, who pronounced his case a hopeless one. Hummel, his dearest and truest friend, heard of his danger, and flew to attend him in his last moments; but he was almost insensible. The words he sought to utter expired on his pallid lips. Still he recognised his early friend, and thanked him with a mournful smile. Hummel pressed the icy-cold hand within his own with deep emotion.

When the dying man felt the pressure, his glazed eye kindled with a momentary consciousness.

He sunk back upon the pillow. With a gentle sigh the spirit had fled!

PRACTICAL APPLICATION OF THE ELECTRIC LIGHT.

A series of beautiful experiments of a most interesting character has been made at the establishment of Professor Glukman, Sackville Street, Dublin, before a number of scientific gentlemen, who deemed the results in the highest degree satisfactory. The principal object sought was to ascertain, among other appliances of the electric light, its power and capability of producing portraits by means of the Daguerreotype as a substitute for the solar rays. In the effectuation of this process the several experiments proved eminently successful, and afforded the greatest satisfaction to all who had the privilege of witnessing them. The electric battery employed was that of Mr Glassford, and under his direction. The illumination obtained was of the most sunlike brilliancy, and remarkable for its steady and luminous bearing on every point towards which the focus of the reflector was directed. The first experiments were on plates prepared by the ordinary process the battery being managed by Mr Glassford, and the camera and Daguerreotype process by M. Glukman. Portraits were instantaneously produced the marked fidelity of outline in which, with the depth and delicacy of shade, elicited the highest admiration. After the complete success of the experiment in that respect had been established, a new test of its power was essayed-namely, the preparation of the glass or plate on which the portrait is fixed by means of the electric light. In this novel and ingenious appliance the utmost success also rewarded the efforts of the experimentalists. Surgeon Lover took the direction of the battery; and Mr Glassford having occupied 'the chair,' an exquisite portrait of that gentleman was produced in a few seconds. Messrs Galbraith, Yates, and others, who took much interest in the proceedings, also tested the agency of the new power, and expressed themselves delighted with the result.-Freeman's Journal.

WHAT ALL MUST EXPECT.

Manhood will come, and old age will come, and the dying bed will come, and the very last look you shall ever cast on your acquaintances will come, and the agony of the parting breath will come, and the time when you are stretched a lifeless corpse before the eyes of weeping relatives will come, and the coffin that is to enclose you will come, and that hour when the company assemble to carry you to the churchyard will come, and that minute when you are put into the grave will come, and the throwing in of the loose earth into the narrow house where you are laid, and the spreading of the green sod over it-all, all will come on every living creature who now hears me; and in a few little years, the minister who now speaks, and the people who now listen, will be carried to their long homes, and make room for another generation. Now all this, you know, must and will happen-your common sense and common experience serve to convince you of it. Perhaps it may have been little thought of in the days of careless, and thoughtless, and thankless unconcern which you have spent but I call upon you to think of it now, to lay it seriously to heart, and no longer to trifle and delay when the high matters of death, and judgment, and eternity are thus set so evidently before you. And the tidings wherewith I am charged-and the blood lieth upon your own head, and not upon mine, if you will not listen to them-the object of my coming amongst you is to let you know what more things are to come: it is to carry you beyond the regions of sight and of sense, to the regions of faith, and to assure you, in the name of Him who cannot lie, that as sure as the hour of laying the body in the grave comes, so surely will also come the hour of the spirit returning to the God who gave it. Yes, and the day of final reckoning will come, and the appearance of the Son of God in heaven, and His mighty angels around Him, will come, and the

hitherto ;

opening of the books will come, and the standing of the men of all generations before the judgment-seat will come, and the solemn passing of that sentence which is to fix you for eternity will come.-Dr Chalmers's Sermons in Posthu mous Works.

A BENEVOLENT METHOD OF SERVING ONE'S SELF. An Italian gentleman, with great sagacity, devised a The garden wall of his villa adjoined the great high road productive pump, and kept it in action at little expense. leading from one of the capitals of northern Italy, from which it was distant but a few miles. Possessing within his garden a fine spring of water, he erected on the outside of the wall a pump for public use, and chaining to it a small iron ladle, he placed near it some rude seats for the weary traveller, and by a slight roof of climbing plants ful shade the tired and thirsty travellers on that wellprotected the whole from the mid-day sun. In this delightbeaten road ever and anon reposed and refreshed themselves, and did not fail to put in requisition the services morning till night many a dusty and wayworn pilgrim which the pump so opportunely presented to them. From plied its handle, and went on his way, blessing the liberal But the owner of the villa was deeply acquainted with proprietor for his kind consideration of the passing stranger. human nature. He knew that in that sultry climate the liquid would be more valued from its scarcity, and from the difficulty of acquiring it. He therefore, in order to enhance the value of the gift, wisely arranged the pump, the handle required a moderate application of force to so that its spout was of rather contracted dimensions, and work it. Under these circumstances, the pump raised far more water than could pass through its spout; and to prevent its being wasted, the surplus was conveyed by an invisible channel to a large reservoir judiciously placed for into which about five pints were poured for every spoonful watering the proprietor's own house, stables, and garden, passing out of the spout for the benefit of the weary traveller. Even this latter portion was not entirely neglected, for the waste pipe conveyed the part which ran over from Perhaps, by a small addition to this ingenious arrangement, the ladle to some delicious strawberry-beds at a lower level. their mules and asses with a taste of the same cool and some kind-hearted travellers might be induced to indulge refreshing fluid; thus paying an additional tribute to the skill and sagacity of the benevolent proprietor. My accomplished friend would doubtless make a most popular chancellor of the Exchequer, should his Sardinian majesty require his services in that department of administration.Babbage's Thoughts on Taxation.

EARTH NUTS.

The earth chestnut is the indigenous growth of our soil; but, like the potato plant, before its introduction into this country as an article of sustenance, it is now quite neglected, and nobody thinks it worth while to have a plant in his garden, although it is as plentiful in its native and wild state as the potato is in Peru, or in the first place of its discovery. Yet, by cultivation in two or three years, it will, I have not the least doubt, produce as large a quantity per acre, of a root three times more nutritious than the potato, and at less than one-fourth the expense. The plant is known to almost every schoolboy; it grows in old pastures, and is called in these parts jar nuts, earth nuts, or earth chestnuts. The plant is like a small key, rather larger than a parsley plant, and something like that also; it bears a white flower, and is to be found in almost all old pastures in any part of England. I planted some roots of these nuts (but they may be produced from the seed as well) in the year 1840, and they came up beautifully; and in the summer, when I dug them up, I found some of them two inches in diameter, and nearly as large as a man's fist. I roasted some of them, and found them delicious. They something resemble in taste the sweet potato of Virginia, or roasted chestnut of our own growth. They are a rich vegetable production, containing more of the elements of nutrition than the potato by three times at least, and will be relished as well by the community as soon as they can be introduced.—Correspondent of Gardeners' and Farmers' Journal.

Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold by D. CHAMBERS, 20 Argyle Street, Glasgow; W. S. Orr, 147 Strand, London; and J. M'GLASHAN, 21 D'Olier Street, Dublin.-Printed by W. and R. CHAMBERS, Edinburgh.

EDINBURGH

No. 278. NEW SERIES.

LITERARY ASPIRANTS.

I AM a literary man-that is to say, I have only my inkstand for my bank, and have no income to look forward to but what dividend my brains can afford me. I do not, however, grumble at my profession, for I weigh its advantages against its evils, and find they are both nicely balanced, which I take to be as average a state of living as we should expect. Favourable critiques have ceased to make me vain, for I have passed my first youth; and depreciating ones are no longer causes of annoyance, for I express my own opinion at times contrary to that of many others, and must expect others in return to do the same. I never abuse publishers if they do not heap money on me when any work I have sold them makes a 'hit;' on the contrary, I am glad of it, because its publication has been a speculation on their part; and had it not succeeded they would have been the losers, whereas I was safe either way. And lastly-which possibly will not be believed, but I don't care-I am never sore when another book in my own line achieves a success, because it most probably creates new readers still; and so, indirectly, we are all benefited thereby. Writing for periodicals and journals is very wearing work. Sometimes I am very worn and jaded with family matters and the countless engagements of a London life, even when I begin; and sometimes I catch myself heaving a deep sigh whilst penning what may chance to be considered my best bits. But I reflect that possibly my earnings are lightly got in comparison with those of others; and I know, from what I am about to allude to, that many believe they would be supremely happy in my position.

I have worked very hard for these last ten years; and by constantly keeping my name before the public, and now and then by fortunately observing something which they themselves perhaps knew of, and placing its actuality in a pleasant or appropriate light before them, have been considered as one of a somewhat insecure class-that of 'popular' light authors. Hence my name is tolerably well known, as I find from letters which arrive from remote parts of England, bearing unknown postmarks, asking for my autograph to add to a collection which,' &c. But I am assured of this, in a manner certainly more troublesome, by certain individuals to whom I am about to allude.

Unless one is in a position to become acquainted with them, nobody can form an idea of the swarms of aspirants bursting to appear in print in London, and, I doubt not, the United Kingdom generally. Editors of magazines know the number of immature communications they receive, aiming at the higher styles of composition, but they do not come in contact with the authors. The manuscripts are 'left with the publishers,' and are called for, and that is all. It is only your ac

PRICE 14d.

cessible authors who understand fully the daring energies of the 'great unprinted' of the present day.

If we by chance encountered a man who all at once, not being hitherto accounted a mechanic, fancied he could make a church clock, and proceeded gravely to file out pieces of brass, and fix them in certain positions, with the notion that they would work, and inform the town of the time of day, we should say he was remarkably foolish, to use no stronger terms. And yet every known literary man will tell you that every week he has a novel sent him, in manuscript, either by a friend or through his introduction, the first work of a person who, with scarcely a knowledge of putting down a phrase, or the simplest elements of the art of composition, dashes at once at the conventional three volumes, and, as is usual in such cases, only building the characters from types that struck his fancy on reading, and which he thought he could imitate, instead of originating, introduces us to all those old friends in slightly new dresses, characteristic of such productions. The subsequent history of these works is always the same. The literary man is worried into taking the manuscript to a publisher, but of course he cannot recommend it. It is returned, and the author, burning to rush into print, pays heavily for some feeble utterer of false novels to bring it out. Favourable notices in the reviews are begged by all sorts of private manœuvres; people read these, get the work, and are grievously disappointed; a heavy stock remains on hand, and the author gets off luckily with the loss of a hundred pounds. I have remarked that the majority of these amateurs are ladies; and here at times one's gallantry is severely tested. But it is always in the end kinder and more charitable to crush these aspirations at once, than, by a seeming approval, to lead the writers into all kinds of quicksands and difficulties.

The amateur novelists are bad enough in their way, but they are nothing to the dramatists of the same order. It does not appear to be generally known, even amongst many actual authors, that to write a play which shall have a chance of success requires not only great terseness, and almost epigrammatic closeness of expression, but also a practical knowledge of the mechanical exigencies of the theatre-a story in which a peculiarly constructed or culminating interest is needed, and an experience in the action of the different scenes-all which being not attended to, will weary the public, and make them hiss. But our aspirants do not think of all this. One of them calls upon a friend, who may have had one or two successful pieces produced, and something like this conversation ensues :

Amateur. I wish you would look over a piece I have got here. [The literary friend trembles, as he knows that in his chiffonnier closet there are a score of manuscripts sent for the same purpose, with polite notes.] If you would

A. It's in five acts. [The countenance of the friend falls, he having thought that it was a harmless farce.] It's called Francesca.' · I've taken the subject from old Italian history. There's a great character for in it. A friend spoke to him about it, and he appeared to like the notion. [This is the most fatal rock upon which the barks of the amateurs are wrecked. They get some one who knows a performer to mention it to him, and the poor man, not wishing to offend, or driven into a corner, says he thinks the idea good.]

F. Ah; do you know much about the mechanical appliances of a theatre?

A. Not a great deal. I have gone for poetry and-if I may call it so-elevated writing.

F. Yes, I see. [The friend looks over the manuscript, and sees speeches of two or three pages long; and the piece altogether would play about seven hours.] I have not got the time to read it, but I will give you a note of introduction to Mr. the manager, and I am sure he will pay attention to your views. A. [Emphatically.] Oh-thank you. The note is written, and the author starts off filled with visions of a great success and being called before the curtain. He leaves his piece, and the first glimpse is sufficient to show that it is an amateur work-one of the hundreds poured into a theatre during a season. The manager wishes you would really not introduce such rubbish to him. The manuscript is thrown by amidst a pile; and the author every week begs you will make an application for its return, as he has called often and can get no reply. Then when he gets it, he hunts you down for introductions to other theatres, and always with the same effect; and at last, finding this piece rejected everywhere, he sets to work and writes another, assumes a coolness towards you, and fastens on another writer.

The most indefatigable class, however, are the aspirants to periodicals, and small poets. During my connection with a tolerably well-known 'monthly,' scarcely a day passed but one called, either an acquaintance or with a letter of introduction. It was the same story with all. They knew I could do anything with Would I get the article into his magazine if, upon reading, I thought it suitable?' I really did read a great many of these, but none were ever available. If the notion was original, the style was either immature or over-elaborated; and if betraying some knowledge of construction, the articles were nothing more than clever imitations of popular writers. The would-be aspirants to light literature were the most painful-those who thought it comic to use such phrases as, the immense sum of eighteen-pence,' or, 'that specimen of sable humanity yclept a chimney-sweep;' or believed that humour consisted in a simple change of synonymes, such as calling an old maid an 'antiquated spinster;' or in that elaboration of meaning by which a dancingmaster was described as a professor of the saltatory art' (which, according to the present style, he is not); and the simple word 'married' could only be explained as led to the hymeneal altar.' In fact, the drollery chiefly aimed at was of the school in which police cases are written by facetious reporters. I once heard from the treasurer of one of our largest theatres, that in the course of twelve years he never knew an amateur play accepted; and I may add, in like manner, that during my connection with the magazine I never knew an amateur funny' paper made use of. Yet the constant rebuffs do not check the aspirants. With the elasticity of Indian-rubber balls, which would be invaluable otherwise directed, the harder they get knocked down the higher they rebound.

The poets, as a mass, are less troublesome, for the fashion-books and annuals open some refuge to them.

Besides, their productions being usually comparatively short, they can with less expense get them printed and published. In this latter case it is curious to observe that the preface is always the same. The author invariably remarks, that 'several kind, but in this instance, he fears, too partial friends, have suggested the publi cation; and then he assumes the habits of the 'lion' in society, loves to read his own works, gasps for notices, and believes, in common with most young authors, that his ideas have pervaded the entire world.

Perhaps the aspirants will now ask, How does anybody begin?' If they are curious to know, I will tell them how I began myself: and I pray them not to accuse me of egotism, which would be most contemptible, but rather look upon the statement as a wish to show them that I am practical and somewhat experienced, when I say that I have written several novels, and produced several plays, which have met with more or less success; that I have now and then attempted poetry, when applied to by composers for the words of ballads; that I have written sketches for magazines, criticisms and notices for newspapers, and paragraphs for light ephemeral periodicals; in fact, that I have gone through all the work which a man must be au fait at to attain even the humblest position in the highpressure literature of the present day.

I began, then, as every profession ought to be commenced, with the rudiments. I used first to make up, with great care and trouble, small paragraphs and notions which struck me as I walked about, for little penny publications, and put them, unknown to any one, into the editor's box. This was when I was at school. Sometimes these were printed-which was a circumstance of great but secret glory to me; sometimes they never appeared, and I heard no more of them. After a time, I began to see the style which was usually the most fortunate. I found that little domestic sketches, made from actual observation, and not comic invention, were readily accepted. The materials for these were within my grasp; indeed, never having read much, I did not attempt to soar beyond them. My paragraphs grew to sketches; my sketches to more finished delineations; and at last I tried a short story, and sent it to a periodical which was exactly the size of the old Mirror.' It was directly accepted and printed; and with an engagement forthwith to write at half-a-crown a column, I considered my fortune made.

The periodical failed; but I was still so delighted at communicating my notions to (as I considered) the world, and fancying they sympathised with some of them, that I went on writing for nothing, when certainly I ought to have been at times attending to something else. I then went to study abroad; and an adventure occurring to me, which found its way into the London papers, I was applied to by the editor of a magazine to send in an account of it. This was an honour I had never dreamed of. I transmitted my seven or eight pages, and they appeared. Two or three kind opinions were passed on the article; and I soon found myself a regular contributor. I then began a story, to be finished in two chapters, one each month. There was something in the first that appeared to please my readers, and the editor asked me if I could not elongate it into six. When the fourth was sent in, I was asked if I could not extend the sketch to the length of a three-volume novel. I was so frightened at this that I took two days to consider; and at last, in great nervous anxiety and mistrust, acquiesced. With this novel possibly you may be acquainted; and its completion and tolerably-favourable reception brought me up to London. But otherwise I should never have conceived so daring a project.

From this time I got a great deal to do, but I never sought it. An engagement to write small essays on social topics for a paper, led me to the position of the theatrical critic, on the secession of my predecessor; the principal reason for this being that my style and opinions were known to the proprietors. Then, as from