of England to the combined fleets of Europe under the revolutionary flag; his royal highness lived from that period in retire

ment.

Of the private career of the prince, we have no desire to enter deeply into detail; the unhappy law which prohibits the marriage of the blood royal without the sanction of the king, naturally exposes the princes to a spceies of connexion which offends higher laws than those of the land. On all the male branches of the royal family, charges of this obnoxious kind are commonly fastened; and it is neither our purpose to enlarge upon topics that cannot serve any good feeling, nor to throw unsuitable offence upon the character of an individual who is now, by the laws of the land, the possessor of the crown, we turn from the discussion altogether.

The duke made frequent applications to the ministry for employment during the French war. But some powerful competitor always appeared, and the duke's naval ambition was disappointed. In particular, he had made strong representations to his royal father for the command of the Mediterranean fleet, from which Lord Collingwood, then in infirm health, had solicited to be removed. He was disappointed; and the disappointment, though it might not have soured a disposition which seems naturally kind and good-natured, yet produced a long retirement from public life. While his royal brothers were mixing in general society, and prominent in politics and public meetings the Duke of Clarence seldom came from his residence at Bushy Park. He stated but a year or two ago, at the dinner of the Goldsmith's Company, that it was the first public body which had ever presented him with its freedom. And the Covent Garden Theatrical Fund of the year before last, if we recollect rightly, gave the first instance of his presiding at a public dinner. It is no flattery to say, for it was universally felt at the time, that his royal highness could have been deterred froin public appearance by no personal deficiency, for he is a good public speaker, very fluent, ingenious in adopting topics as they rise before him in the business of the day, and of unweared spirit and good-humour. He was considered to have made one of the best chairmen that the theatrical dinner ever had; and those who have tried the task of presiding at a public dinner, know the trial of temper, quickness of conception, and readiness of speech, to be no easy one. On the death of the Princess Charlotte, the necessity of providing for the succession, produced a recommendation from the Prince Regent to his brothers to marry. The Duke of Clarence

selected the Princess Adelaide of Saxe Meinengen, an intelligent and estimable princess. On the occasion of this marriage it became necessary to separate from Mrs. Jordan, and she retired to Boulogne and afterwards to St. Cloud, near Paris, where she died in about a year, of some neglected constitutional disorder. It was first rumoured, of poverty. But subsequent evidence has been given, that she had sufficient means, even for luxuries, and that one of them was a diamond ring worth a hundred guineas, which she constantly wore, and which of course precluded any actual suffering from narrow circumstances.

On the death of his late majesty, the Duke of Clarence was proclaimed king by the title of William the Fourth. A great many curious instances are told, since the crown devolved upon him, of his disregarding the inconvenient burthens of court etiquette, and following his old easy and natural habits, learned originally in a sailor's life.-In passing down St. James's Street, unattended, as is his custom, he wanted to see a newspaper of the evening -the door of a coffee-house was open before him-he walked in, and read his newspaper at his ease. His first military operation was the popular and amusing one of ordering all the cavalry to be shaved, excepting the hussars, that piece of barbarism being part of the essence of those frippery corps.Like all men of common sense he has looked on the effeminate and foolish changes of the military dress with ridicule, and it is reported that he has ordered the whole army to adopt the old national colour-red; the British service, at this moment, being the most pyeballed on earth, and in fact, being nothing more than a copy of every absurdity in dress and colour that could be culled from the whole of the continental armies. The impolicy of this borrowing system was obvious, in the first place, as a kind of admission that Frenchmen and other foreigners were our masters in the art of

war.

An assumption which they are always ready enough to make, and which only increases their insolence. In the next, in the actual increase of confusion and hazard in the field, when no man could know an English regiment from an enemy's one, a dozen yards off, and when, as has happened more than once, the English infantry has been charged by foreign cavalry, whom they naturally mistook for some of their own whiskered and bluecoated lancers and hussars. Lastly, and by no means the least important-by the imitation of the foreign costume, bedizened and embroidered as it was, many meritori ous officers were driven out of the cavalry,

through the enormous expense of the uniform; while the younger and richer coxcombs, who would at all times make better mountebanks and mummers than soldiers, were urged to a career of waste, folly, and effeminacy, that, absurd and contemptible as it was, absolutely began to infect the habits of the higher ranks of society.

We hope the reign of the moustaches is over. The English soldier may be content to pass in society without looking like a Russian bear, or a French dancing-master. He could fight a dozen years ago better than any foreigner, notwithstanding the disqualification of having his visage visible; and we hope the abominable dan dyism of late years will insult our national good sense no more.

But a still more valuable change may be at hand. The late king was unfortunately a Hussar, and his propensities were all for the army. The navy declined miserably, and this noble object of national honour and public safety, was left to sink into fotal disfavour. But a sailor is now on the throne, and we must hope that he has the true feelings of an Englishman about him. Let him then lose no time in raising the British navy from its impolitic, ungraéious, and hazardous depression. It is of all descriptions of force, the fittest for England: its name is most connected with English glory; it is the arm which is most exclusively English, and which no foreigner has ever been able to rival. It is the arm too which is the most suitable to a people jealous of their liberties, and knowing that a military force is always hazardons to those liberties, and that if the constitution of England should be destined to fall, it will be by an army in the hands of some favourite general. Knowing all this, we say, Long live the Navy of England! Long live the Liberties of the People! and Long live the Sailor-King!

PRESENCE OF MIND; OR, THE

JUNGLE.+

It was in the cold season that a few of the civil and military officers belonging to the station of -, agreed to make a shooting excursion in the vicinity of Agra; and gave occasion to an animated scene. A convenient spot had been selected for the tents, beneath the spreading branches of a huge banian; peacocks glittered in the sun upon the lower boughs, and troops of

+ From the New Year's Gift for 1831.

monkeys grinned and chattered above. The horses were fastened under the sur rounding trees, and there fanned off the insects with their long flowing tails. Within the circle of the camp a lively scene was passing-fires blazed in every quarter, and sundry operations of roasting, boiling, and frying, were going on in the open air. The interior of the tents also presented an animated spectacle, as the servants were putting them in order for the night; they were lighted with lamps, and the walls were hung with chintz or tigerskins, carpets were spread upon the ground, and sofas surrounded by curtains of transparent gauze (a necessary precaution against insects) became commodious beds. Polished swords and daggers, silver-mounted pistols and guns, with knives, boar spears, and the gilded bows, arrows, and quivers, of native workmanship, were scattered around. The tables were covered with European books and newspapers; so that it was necessary to be continually reminded by some savage object, that these temporary abodes were placed in the heart of an Indian forest. The vast number of persons-the noise, bustle, and many fires about the camp, precluded every idea of danger; and the gentlemen of the party, collected together in front of the tents, conversed carelessly with each other, or amused themselves with looking about them. While thus indolently beguiling the few minutes which had to elapse before they were summoned to dinner, a full-grown tiger, of the largest size, sprang suddenly into the centre of the group, seized one of the party in his extended jaws, and bore him away into the wood with a rapidity which defied pursuit. The loud outeries, raised by those persons whose faculties were not entirely paralysed by terror and consternation, only served to increase the tiger's speed. Though scarcely a moment had elapsed, not a trace of the animal remained, so impenetrable was the thicket through which he had retreated; but, notwithstanding the apparent hopelessness of the case, no means which human prudence could suggest was left untried. Torches were instantly collected, weapons hastily snatched up, and the whole party rushed into the forest-some beating the bushes on every side, while others pressed their way through the tangled underwood, in a state of anxiety incapable of description. The victim selected by the tiger was an officer, whose presence of mind and dauntless courage, in the midst of this most appalling danger, providentially enabled him to meet the exigencies of his sitnation. Neither the anguish he endured from the wounds already inflicted, the hor

rible manner in which he was hurried along through bush and brake, and the prospect so immediately before him of a dreadful death, subdued the firmness of his spirit; and meditating, with the utmost coolness, upon the readiest means of effecting his own deliverance, he proceeded cautiously to make the attempt. He wore a brace of pistols in his belt, and the tiger having seized him by the waist, his arms were consequently left at liberty. Apply ing his hand to the monster's side, he ascertained the exact position of the heart; then, drawing out one of his pistols, he placed the muzzle close to the part, and fired. Perhaps some slight tremor in his own fingers, or a jerk occasioned by the rongh road and brisk pace of the animal, caused the ball to miss its aim, and a tighter gripe and an accelerated trot, alone announced the wound he had received. A moment of inexpressible anxiety ́ensued: yet undismayed by the ill success of his effort, though painfully aware that he now possessed only a single chance for life, the heroic individual prepared with more careful deliberation to make a fresh attempt. He felt for the pulsations of the heart a second time, placed his remaining pistol firmly against the vital part, and drew the trigger with a steadier hand, and with nicer precision. The jaws suddenly relaxed their grasp, and the tiger dropped dead beneath its burden! The triumph of the victor, as he surveyed the lifeless body of the animal stretched upon the ground, was somewhat subdued by the loss of blood, and the pain of his wounds. He was uncertain, too, whether his failing strength would enable him to reach the camp, even if he could be cer tain of finding the way to it; but his anxiety upon this point was speedily ended by the shouts which met his ear, those of his friends searching for him. He staggered onward in the direction whence the sounds proceeded, and issued from the thicket, covered with blood and exhausted, but free from wounds of a mortal nature.

in this world at the same time, neither do we finish our career together, as various accidents and horrid cruelties tear us from each other; and when dragged from our native place, we are cast away as useless, though when united, we form one of the greatest ornaments of the human race, and great pains are taken to preserve us in à state of health and beauty. We are not famed for oratory, yet we greatly assist a very near neighbour in his delivery of speech, both in public and private; and without our friendly aid, his most persuasive accents would fail in their effect. Though small in size, yét such is our strength, that we can perform work with ease to ourselves, which could not be so well done by the nicest machinery. The art of man has done much to form imitations of us, yet, never can he compete with nature in combining beauty, usefulness, and durability, such as we possess. Young readers, take care of these precious treasures while you have them, for never can you purchase such again.-New Year's Gift for 1831.

Singular Superstition. The Scottish even of the better rank, avoid contracting marriage in the month of May, which genial season of flowers and breezes might, in other respects appear so peculiarly favourable for that purpose. This objection to solemnize marriage in the merry month of May is borrowed from the Roman pagans.-Sir Walter Scott.

Mrs. Billington. When Mrs. Billington first appeared in the part of Rosetta, in the opera of "Love in a Village," Mr. Jekyl, the witty barrister, was present, with a friend from the country. When the curtain rose and discovered Rosetta and Lucinda, in the first scene, the applause being great, Mrs. Billington, who had prodigiously increased in bulk, curtsied to the audience, on which the country gen tleman said to his friend, "Is that Rosetta?" "No, Sir," replied Mr. Jekyl, "it is not Rosetta, it is Grand Cairo."--Parke's Musical Memoirs.

Question for Question. At the commencement of the first revolution in France, a gentleman of Dauphené, anxious to support the interest of the aristocracy, said, "Think of all the blood that the nobles of France have shed in battle!" A commoner replied, "and what of the blood of the people poured at the same time! Was that water ?"

The Present Computation of Years Erroneous." The recent eclipse of the moon," says a foreign observer, "has enabled us to prove, that our present computation is defective by no fewer than three years. Correctly speaking, the year 1830 should be 1833; for Josephus tells

CHANGES WROUGHT BY WATER.

THE agents of change on the surface of -the earth, may be divided into, 1. Changes wrought by the action of water in motion, as by rains, springs, rivers, and currents .of the ocean. 2. Changes brought about by subterranean forces of an igneous cha∙racter, as volcanoes and earthquakes. Mr. Lyell first considers the action of running water on the surface of the land. He justly mentions as a powerful agent of de struction, the enormous expansive force of water, when, after having made its way into the pores and crevices of rocks, it rends or shatters them on freezing. There is another agent of superficial erosion omitted by Mr. Lyell, and indeed seldom sufficiently noticed-namely, the direct descent of rain. Any one who has observed the waste of an exposed surface of clay, sand, or fine gravel, from a single .sharp storm of rain, and considers that this effect is not, like that of rivers and torrents, confined within a narrow compass, but extended over the whole face of a -country, will readily believe that, upen districts composed of such friable materials, the amount of degradation occasioned in a lapse of ages by this seemingly insignificant force, must be far from inconsiderable. We are inclined to rank it among the most powerful agents of destruction; and we are led to this by two -general observations that speak strongly to the purpose. It is a universal fact, that wherever groups of the softer strata, as of clay, sand, marls, &c., crop out from below others of a harder material, the former are worn down to a much lower level than the latter, generally so much as to produce a longitudinal valley; though it is not often that rivers flow along the depression, the course of the drainage having been apparently determined when

+ Abridged from the Quarterly Review-No. * LXXXVI.-of, Principles of Geology; being an attempt to explain the former Changes of the Earth's Surface, by a reference to causes now in operation. By C. Lyell, F.H.S. 1830.

the friable strata possessed a greater elevation. Our second remark is that whenever projecting eminences rise from a district composed of the softer formations, they are almost invariably capped by a hard stratum or knot of rock, to which their preservation is obviously owing. The well known aspect of basaltic platforms and peaks is a familiar illustration. But the only erosive force from which a vertical capping can protect a mass of strata, is that of the direct descent of rain. It is this, then, chiefly, that must must have worn away the enormous quantity of matter by which such tabular hills were once connected. The most convincing and beautiful example of the powerful ageney of rain is the spot called the Pyramids, near Botzen, in the Tyrol, where a large ravine, or rather valley, since it is at least a mile in width, has been excavated in a coarse conglomerate. From the bottom

rise a great number of high and needleshaped cones of gravel, each of which owes its preservation to a large boulder, in most cases remaining upon the apex, often nicely balanced upon a very narrow point, which it overhangs on every side almost like an umbrella. When the stone at length falls, the pyramid soon wastes down to the general level of the valley. It is evident that the boulder capping ean have been no protection against the ero sive force of a rivulet or torrent, which would have easily undermined it. lows that the whole of this great ravine must owe its excavation (and it is evidently but of recent formation) to the force of vertical rains. But this power must have been equally active where the effects are not so obviously referrible to it aloneover every other part of the Alps, and and of all lands, in proportion to the quantity and violence of the rain which aunu, ally falls on them, and the more or less yielding nature of their surfaces.

It fol

With regard to running water, no stream, whatever its size, from the smallest rill to the mightiest river, flows for any space straight onwards in the direct line of its general descent. Its bius continually oscillates from one side to the other, through the necessary inequality of the laOn that side towards teral resistances. which the bias or force of the current sets, lateral erosion takes place, in proportion to the momentum of the stream, and the solidity of the materials of the bank. The talus formed by deposits of sand or gravel, or by the fall of matter from an undermined bank, assists in deflecting the bias of the stream, and temporarily shifting its direction. From this oscillatory mode of progression, all streams of water tend to wear themselves channels in a zig-zag, or

rather a serpentine form, aud where the matter excavated is sufficiently uniform, as in alluvial bottoms, the curves eaten out alternately on the right and left bank, correspond with almost geometrical exactness, owing to the angle at which each thread of water is deflected everywhere equalling the angle of incidence, and the force with which it shoots across the channel to impinge upon the one bank corresponding to that with which it has already been urged against the other. When these flexures become extremely deep, the aber ration from the direct line of descent is often corrected at once by the river cutting through the isthmus which separates two neighbouring curves on the same bank. But besides the lateral abrasion exercised by running water on its banks, it possesses an almost equally active vertical force of abrasion, by which the channel is, deepened at the same time that it is widened, or shifted on one side. When earthy matter becomes intermixed with running water, a new mechanical power is obtained by the attrition of sand and pebbles borne along by the stream, and impinging with the momentum they acquire against its banks or bottom. The specific gravity of many rocks is not more than twice, very rarely more than three times, that of water; so that the fragments propelled by a stream lose from a third to a half of what we esteem their weight, and are much more easily put in motion than we might imagine. The velocity of a stream determines the size and weight of the solid particles it can either keep in suspension, or drive with a rolling motion along its bottom. It is by the latter mode of action that running water exerts the greatest power in deepening its channel. Every stream, when swollen by sudden rains or the melting of snow, carries along much fine matter in suspension, and drifts coarser particles, as gravel, pebbles, or boulders, along its bottom. During floods there is a continual travelling of drift; the whole bed of the stream being in motion from one end to the other. Stones and gravel are propelled in this way, a greater or less distance, stopping at intervals at the bends of the channel. The bias of the stream is there obliquely deflected to the opposite side, while the superior momentum of the rolling drift carries it into the stiller water beyond, which, being incapable of keeping it in motion, it accumulates in a projecting talus exactly corresponding to the concavity excavated in the opposite bank. It is the momentum they possess when once set in motion by water that causes enormous blocks of stone to be rolled by floods, as we sometimes observe them, up inclined banks at

the turnings of rivers. The heaviest boulders are, from this cause, often carried furthest, and reach the highest elevation. Part of the drift so deposited, remains as a permanent and increasing gravel or sand-bank, the stream deserting the talus by eating its way still deeper into the opposite bank; part is taken up again, and carried on further by the next flood. Meantime, by their attrition against the bed of the stream, the transported fragments wear it down, and are themselves rounded and diminished in size, till, if their course be sufficiently long, they are reduced to sand or silt, borne into the sea, and deposited there to await still further changes.

These laws are equally exemplified in the windings of a petty brook, and in those of a Mississippi. Nor do they apply only to the course of streams flowing through valleys composed of soft materials. The valleys of the Moselle and Meuse, among many, may be cited as instances of extreme sinuosity on the largest scale, being from six to eight hundred feet in depth, and often a mile or two in width, excavated through an elevated platform of transition slate and limestone; yet these valleys wind to such a degree, that the rivers occasionally return, after a circuit of fifteen or seventeen miles, to within a few hundred yards of the point they passed so long before. It has been justly remarked that such winding prove valleys, however large, to have been entirely excavated by slow fluviatile erosion. An instance of the power exerted by running water in excavating the hardest materials, occurs in the Simeto, one of the rivers flowing at the foot of Mount Etna, which has, in the course of about two centuries, eroded a channel, from fifty to several hundred feet wide, and from forty to fifty deep, through a mass of compact lava, which flowed into and obstructed the valley in 1603.

The fall of Niagara is an instance of the power running water may exercise in altering the features of a country. It is calculated that by the sap and fall of the hard limestone rock, over which the river is precipitated into a softer shale formation beneath, the cataract retrogrades towards Lake Erie at the rate of fifty yards in forty years. The distance already travelled by it, from the lower opening of the narrow gorge it has evidently cut by this process, is seven miles, and the remaining distance to be performed, before it reaches Lake Erie, is twenty-five. Had the limestone platform been less extensive, this enormous basin might have been already drained, as it must ultimately be, when the fall has re