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quent, and the whole system seemed considerably excited. These symptoms continued to increase until the seventh application to the opium pot (which took place about a quarter of an hour from the commencement), at which time the pulse was full and bounding, and beating at the rate of 120 in the minute.

After the next two applications, which were completed within five minutes more, though much less dexterously than the previous ones, he appeared quite stupified by the drug, and lying down on the couch, instantly fell asleep.

Being desirous of ascertaining how long he would continue in this state, we did not disturb him, although he snored most profoundly, but allowed him to awake of his own accord, which he did in about three hours afterwards.

is an important application of steam-power, likely to produce very beneficial results in public works, in the formation of sea-banks, and in all operations on a large scale where rapidity of execution and precision are required. The machine was used in America for driving piles for railroads, and travelled by its own power upwards of two hundred miles, driving piles and making its pervious. The machine has, moreover, the power of own road through swamps and districts heretofore imdrawing piles out of the earth as quickly as it drives them in, and can be applied to the raising of blocks of stone and all heavy weights that require an extraordinary power.-Standard.

CAPTAIN CHARLES GRAY'S POEMS. CAPTAIN GRAY informs us, in the preface to an elegant Considerable depression seemed now to have followed volume entitled "Lays and Lyrics," ,"* that he has just the previous excitement; the eyes, though still full and retired from the marine corps, after a service of thirtyprojecting, being dull and heavy, and the whole coun- six years. A more cheerful soul or a gentler nature tenance having a languid and stupid expression. The never went upon the half-pay list. He has thought breathing was likewise heavy, and the pulse consider- proper to employ some of the first of his leisure in preably below the natural standard, being full and labour-paring a selection of the occasional rhymes of a lifeing, and scarcely beating sixty in the minute. time, and pleasant lively verses they generally areperhaps, in some instances, a little too Anacreontic for these sober times. Some of them are agreeable adaptations to the old melodies of Scotland; others are designed for new tunes. Another large portion of the Lays and Lyrics are of the character of vers de societié. We extract a specimen of both departments :

The immediate effect, therefore, of the drug in the present instance, and likewise in any other which afterwards came under my observation, was that of a strong stimulant. This, however, was soon succeeded by a still more powerfully sedative effect, which takes place sooner or later, according to the habits of the individual. An old hand will frequently smoke for hours before being completely under its influence; while a beginner, as we observed in the case of our cook, will sometimes be stupified by two or three whiffs.

Amongst the Chinese, the use of opium is almost universal, at least among the male portion of the community, and is far from being confined to the higher or wealthier classes, being equally prevalent amongst the very lowest, many of whom would rather want their dinner than be deprived of the intoxicating drug. Notwithstanding the severe penalties incurred by those found making use of it, it scarcely ever appeared to be made a secret of, smoking shops abounding in every town and village through which we passed. In addition to a tobacco-pipe, which each carried along with him, amongst our guard of honour (consisting of a head policeman, as he was called, half a dozen soldiers, four palanquin bearers, and three wheelbarrow men), there were generally to be found several opium pipes, which were made use of occasionally in the course of the day's march. Tobacco, however, was principally made use of during the day, the opium being reserved till the evening, when they would commence after supper, and smoke until they could no longer put the pipe into their mouths. As can easily be imagined, the habitual use of opium, at least as made use of by the Chinese, produces the most injurious effects upon the constitution -still more, probably, than that of ardent spirit. The peculiar languid and vacant expression, the sallow and shrivelled countenance, the dim and sunken eye, and the general emaciated and withered appearance of the body, easily distinguish the confirmed opiumsmoker. The mind likewise soon participates in the general wreck of the body; and the unhappy individual, losing all relish for society, remains in a state of sottish indifference to every thing around him but the deadly drug, now his only solace, which sooner or later hurries its victim to an untimely grave.

The most inveterate opium-smoker that came under our observation, during a journey of two months through the interior of the country, was the head policeman, under whose charge we were from the island of Hainan to the mainland of China. This individual was evidently an old stager, and went through the operation with great neatness and dexterity. Commencing soon after he came on board (about five o'clock in the afternoon), he continued without intermission until midnight, when, tired with observing him,' I fell asleep.

The refuse of the pipe likewise is much prized, especially where a superior specimen of the drug has been made use of, and is generally the perquisite of one of the servants, who forms it into pills by mixing it with a little oil, to which he treats himself while his master is in a state of oblivion."

PILE-DRIVING MACHINE.

A very simple yet very admirable machine for driving a double row of piles, has recently been imported from the United States. It was built at Utica, and has the national name "Brother Jonathan" inscribed on it. It is now in operation at Smith's Timber Wharf, Pedlar's Aore, where it can be seen driving the piles for the causeway and abutment on the Surrey side of the New Hungerford Market Bridge, now in progress. The hammers, or weights, or, as they are more usually called by piledrivers, the "monkeys," are elevated to a height of thirty-five feet or thereabouts, along grooves in perpendicular leaders, by means of a locomotive steam-engine of ten horse power, fixed on a platform, on which the whole of the machinery is placed. The power of the blow given by each of these hammers exceeds 600 tons, and drives a pile of twenty-seven feet long, and as thick as the thickest piles used in embankments and for cofferdams, nearly its whole length into the earth in about eight minutes, or perhaps less. It drives two piles at the same time. A circular horizontal saw is worked by the engine, wich in a few seconds cuts the tops of the piles even, and enables the trucks, or small wheels on which the platform is supported, to come forward as fast as the piles are driven, and cut them even at the top; the platform is propelled by a one-horse power by the engine. The power of this machine is absolutely astounding. It

WHEN AUTUMN HAS LAID HER SICKLE BY.+
When Autumn has laid her sickle by,
And the stacks are theekit to haud them dry;
And the sapless leaves come down frae the trees,
And dance about in the fitfu' breeze;
And the robin again sits burd-alane,
And sings his sang on the auld peat stane;
When come is the hour o' gloamin grey,
Oh, sweet is to me the minstrel's lay!
When Winter is driving his cloud on the gale,
And spairgin about his snaw and his hail,
And the door is steekit against the blast,
And the winnocks wi' wedges are firm and fast,
And the ribs are ryppet, the cannel a-light,
And the fire on the hearth is bleezin bright,
And the bicker is reamin wi' pithy brown ale;
Oh, dear is to me a sang or a tale!

Then I tove awa' by the ingle-side,
And tell o' the blasts I was wont to bide,
When the nichts were lang, and the sea ran high,
And the moon hid her face in the depths of the sky,
And the mast was strain'd, and the canvass rent,
By some demon on message of mischief sent;
Oh, I bless my stars that at hame I can bide,
For dear, dear to me is my ain ingle side!

CHRISTMAS.

A RUDDER-HEAD REVERIE.

In that famed place no longer cruising,
Where William kissed his "black-eyed Susan,"
Driven by the tide, toss'd by the breeze,
Rides our good ship, the Ramilies.
Others may slumber on the ocean,"
But we've found out "perpetual motion;"
And things shall go a little hard,
If some one claims not the reward.
Some stomachs are so very nice,
Rolling upsets them in a trice;
And pitching gives them such a fit,
Poor souls! they cannot pick a bit!
Let winds pipe loud, let billows roar,
We eat and drink like folks on shore.
But what is this? As I'm a sinner
'Tis Christmas, and we've nought for dinner!
Already lour the distant skies;

The angry white-topp'd billows rise;
O'er head the rack is scudding fast,
And heavy moans the coming blast;
On flagging wing sails slowly by
The sea-mew, with a wailing cry.
What sad portentous signs are these?
How quick they turn our swans to geese!
Four jolly Mids have we invited,
Whose stomachs, no doubt, are delighted;
And shall their fondest wishes go out
Like candle-snuff? Shall then no blow-out
Delight the maws of hungry fellows?
Must salt junk fill our empty bellies?
Shall we have nought but beef and biscuit,
Instead of soft tack, fowl, and brisket?
Forbid it! Neptune's watery train,
That live below, or skim the main.

Alas! what will not patience teach ;-
The surf is rolling on the beach;
And down comes Lapslie, hat in hand-
"At Deal, to-day, no boat can land!"
And all our hopes of Christmas fare
Vanish, like witches, in the air!
The rich sirloin, all smoking hot,
Like baser shin, has gone to pot:
The goose-oh, name it not !-the goose
Is killed and stuffed for others' use;
Or borne away, on ample pinions,
Regardless of our sage and onions.
"Tis clear our evil stars prevail-
We'll ne'er lay salt upon her tail.
The fowls have all been "bought and sold;"
The curry is too hot to hold!
The mince, so nicely baked in pies,
Is fruitless as a sailor's sighs,
When fast he scuds before the wind,
And leaves his lass and heart behind.
The ham, well dried a month before,
We only smoke it from the shore;
And, were we Jews of Abram's line,
On it might be allowed to dine;
But no-at distance here we stand,
And only view the promised land.
The veal-pray, messmates, do not frown-
Not it, but we, are quite done brown:
The tongue that tickles every palate,
Is mute within some butcher's wallet;

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Never, unless you are an expert horseman, attempt to show off a spirited animal before your friends, else you may be made to kiss the dust; for the horse is a sagacious brute, and soon discovers the incapacity of his rider. Never sign an accommodation bill, for when once" on the ice," it is impossible to predict the result. Never laugh at your own jokes, at least until the risibility of the company has been excited, when etiquette may perhaps permit you to give a gentle guffaw by way of accompaniment. Never, in talking to your next neighbour, vociferate as if you were "hailing a ship at sea;" it is the custom of uneducated boors, with whom you stand a chance of being identified. Never condemn your neighbour unheard, however many the accusations which may be preferred against him: every story has two ways of being told, and justice requires that you should hear the defence as well as the accusation; and remember that the malignity of enemies may place you in a similar predicament. Never, if you are in the habit of giving recitations, allow yourself, from the indiscreet and hyperbolical encomiums of friends, to suppose that you are a Roscius; and keep in mind that you may be flattered to be laughed at. Never get into a passion because others will not agree with you in opinion; you are not infallible, and moreover, diversity of opinion is the very life and soul of conversation; at the same time, we confess there are some dogmatists who never speak "rhyme nor reason," and who sadly try the temper. Never trouble others with the recital of your misfortunes: communications of this description are never pleasing; and, at all events, sympathy cannot counteract the decrees of fate; and, moreover, if you are given to such disclosures, you will be dubbed "knight of the rueful countenance"personage who is no favourite at convivial meetings, or, indeed, any where. Never refuse, if it be in your power, to aid the unfortunate; a generous act is always followed with a glow of happiness, far surpassing any mere animal gratification. Never harbour animosity towards a friend for a mere hasty expression; forgiveness is a godlike quality, and a true friend is so scarce a commodity, that he should not be repudiated on slight grounds; but those who injure you from " malice prepense," should be shunned as you would avoid a tiger.-Edinburgh Observer.

PEOPLE OF COLOUR AT BELIZE.

-a

By this time I had twice passed the whole length of the principal street, and the town seemed in the entire possession of blacks. The bridge, the market-place, the streets and stores, were thronged with them; and I might have fancied myself in the capital of a Negro republic. They are a fine-looking race, tall, straight, and athletic, with skins black, smooth, and glossy as velvet, and well dressed; the men in white cotton shirts and trousers, with straw hats, and the women in white frocks with short sleeves and broad red borders, and adorned with large red ear-rings and necklaces; and I could not help remarking that the frock was their only article of dress, and that it was the fashion of these sable ladies to drop this considerably from off the right shoulder, and to carry the skirt in the left hand, and raise it to any height necessary for crossing puddles. On my way back, I stopped at the house of a merchant, whom I found at what is called a second breakfast. The gentleman sat on one side of the table, and his lady on the other. At the head was a British officer, and opposite him a mulatto; on his left was another officer, and opposite him also a mulatto. By chance a place was made for me between the two coloured gentlemen. Some of my countrymen, perhaps, would have hesitated about taking it, but I did not; both were well-dressed, well-educated, and polite. They talked of their mahogany works, of England, hunting, horses, ladies, and wine; and, before I had been an hour in Belize, I learned that the great work of practical amalgamation, the subject of so much angry controversy at home, had been going on quietly for generations; that colour was considered mere matter of taste; and that some of the most respectable inhabitants had black wives, and mongrel children, whom they educated with as much care, and made money for with as much zeal, as if their skins were perfectly white. Stephens's Incidents of Travel in Central America.

SUPERSTITION IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. A lad, about eighteen years of age, on Wednesday night, a few weeks ago, disappeared under strong excitement; and it is supposed threw himself off the bridge at Melksham, into the Avon, and was drowned. To recover the body, his friends on Saturday were firing a gun along the banks of the river, believing that the report would burst the caul and raise the corpse to the surface. On Monday, they beat a drum along the bank, believing that the drum would cease sounding when opposite the corpse! Of course, both methods failed.-Newspaper paragraph.

LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W. S. Onn, Paternoster Row.

Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.

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CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE,"

"CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

NUMBER 523.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 1842.

mock his anguish, and (what perhaps he also observed)
to throw a very unbecoming degree of light upon
faded damask, cracked china, and tarnished gilding.
It is possible that he might have given a rough guess
at the different prices which might have been expected
had a cloudy sky veiled such imperfections, yet it was
not that which made his cravat feel something too
tight, or produced the nervous twitches which might
have been remarked about his mouth; for though
tears-those exhalations of intense agony, a man's
tears did rise to his eyes, pride drove them back.
It was very strange that his father's arm-chair, or
his mother's work-table, should produce such emo-
tions, and yet they oppressed his heart most strongly
when he observed a stranger pause, with all the assur-
ance in the world, to examine a certain old picture.
Now, it chanced that this was about the only thing
to which the sunshine was favourable, for, without
streaming upon it, a flood of light nevertheless illu-
mined the apartment, and, coming from the right
direction, brought out beauties that might otherwise
have remained unobserved.

THE STORY OF A PICTURE. In the year eighteen hundred and something, Henry Cummins awoke one morning and discovered-what very much surprised "the world" when they heard it, and almost astonished himself, namely-that he was penniless! In three years he had run through the savings of a life; for his father, a plodding man of business, had bequeathed above thirty thousand pounds to his only child, having previously given him what is called "a good education"-a term which is, alas! too often a sad misnomer. What is commonly called a "good" education, sometimes turns out to have been a very "bad" one. Although a tradesman, old Mr Cummins had an amiable weakness (if weakness it must be called), yclept family pride, and his anxious hope was, that Henry would resuscitate the honour of the family. Yes, he belonged to a family which had been renowned through several generations; but as virtue and honour do not always fill the purse, and as in this unromantic age it is found absolutely necessary to pay butchers and bakers, it was thought advisable for a younger branch of the genealogical tree It was, indeed, an exquisite painting-no matter by to strike fresh root in the plebeian but extremely in- which of the old masters; and it had belonged to the vigorating soil of trade. Mr Cummins had been the Cummins' family for several generations. It was a younger branch destined for this healthful process, landscape scene with figures; the season bright gorand Henry had been intended for the bar, the father's geous summer; and the picture was among Henry dreams of course picturing him on the woolsack. Cummins' earliest recollections and associations. In But a lavish allowance for his pocket, and the grati- the days of frocks and pinafores he had played before fication of every wish not absolutely vicious, while yet it, looking up sometimes, and almost wondering if the in his teens, were not precisely the means to render shadows would ever grow longer, or the knot of harhim a steady or a studious man. He was twenty vest people ever finish the day's labour. And in years when his father died, and he came into uncontrolled later than those of frockhood, he had tried his daring possession of his property a year afterwards; so, con- hand in copying the great original, only, it must be sidering that he found it quite impossible the first confessed, to throw palette and brushes away in disyear to live on four times the sum that his trustee gust; and in recent times he had pointed out its allowed him, and that he did contrive, and not very beauties to admiring visiters, while it had been the mysteriously, to borrow some thousands during that silent witness of his follies-silent, surely, because he period, it is not surprising that at the end of three would not listen, for now to the mind's ear it spoke years, as we have said before, he awoke one morning trumpet-tongued reproaches. There it hung, in its and found himself without a penny. He made other old-fashioned frame, ticketed No. 27. Had that ticket discoveries, too, at the same moment. He found that, supernatural powers ?-for, verily, to the vision of paying the price of his whole fortune, he had not, Henry Cummins, the figures seemed starting to life, after all, purchased happiness; and when the first as they looked down sorrowfully and reproachfully at stunning sensation of extreme unhappiness and afflic- him. The stranger, whose glance the picture had tion which his different discoveries occasioned had a arrested, was a little old gentleman, dressed in brown, little abated, there sprung up in his mind a wonderful who held by the hand a beautiful girl of about twelve growth of good resolutions for the future, and some years old. The fairy-like child was soon satisfied with sort of inward assurance, which was better than all, looking at the picture, and slipped her hand from that that told him he had energy enough to carry them of her grandfather, the better to observe a China mon

out.

But the question was, what first should be done? After a little while, all visionary plans and speculations melted into the one strong sense of the necessity of selling at once horses and carriages, house, furniture, and every species of available property, with the proceeds of which he hoped to discharge debts still outstanding, and have perhaps a trifle to begin the world with. Now, abstractedly, a chair is but a chair, a table but a table, yet every one will allow the power that even inanimate objects possess of twining themselves around the heart, until a final separation is absolutely painful. Henry Cummins was perfectly aware of this fact, as on the morning of the sale he walked through every room of his house, for the last time, among his household gods. There they were, every one ticketed, and standing uncomfortably forward, as if they had already taken leave of their master, and were inviting themselves to the notice of the strangers who walked through the rooms. Had the weather been dull and cloudy, nature would have seemed in unison with the spendthrift's feelings; but the sun streamed in most unsympathisingly, as if to

ster, which had caught her attention; and then the
little old man drew out his spectacles, stepped some-
what nearer to the painting, and putting his arms
behind his back, and clasping with one hand the wrist
of the other, stood for full five minutes in a dream of
delight. He was aroused from it by a joyous laugh of
the child, for the grotesque image had been irresis-
tible. The child's laugh grated on the heart of Henry
Cummins almost as much as the bright sunshine had
done; and though he gazed at her full in the face, as
she shook back the thick curls which shaded it, and
besought "grandpapa" to buy the green and purple
monster, he certainly did not perceive she was the
most beautiful object in the room-if the truth must
be told, he thought her a noisy troublesome child.

The little old gentleman promised to buy the mon-
ster, and telling Julia that the sale would commence
in half an hour, he led her down stairs, and put her
into a carriage which was waiting, and which quickly
drove off. All this Henry Cummins beheld from a
window, though he could not hear what directions
were given to the coachman. However, in another
minute the little old gentleman had returned to the

PRICE 1d.

drawing-room, but he passed by the picture without noticing it again, and after giving rather an indifferent glance to some other objects, seated himself within a few paces of the auctioneer's desk. Henry Cummins wondered if he meant to bid for the picture, and felt almost decided to buy it in himself; but he did not wish to make himself known to the auctioneer, and so determined to bid as a stranger. The sale began, and the china monster, which was in the first page of the catalogue, was knocked down to the little old gentleman. It had been run up to a sum far beyond its value, for the purchaser had shown he was determined to have it. Perhaps he took a hint from this circumstance, or, perhaps, he was in reality an experienced bidder, and had only from some accident been off his guard in a trifling matter; however this might be, when the picture was put up for sale the old gentleman's voice was not heard at all. It is true the auctioneer must have received, from time to time, telegraphic dispatches from somebody, as, without the bidders being always heard, "going-going"--was followed by higher and higher offers. At last, as if himself out of patience, the auctioneer sharply let fall his mystical symbol, even before Henry Cummins could determine on an advance, and a nod of the head proclaimed that the picture belonged to the little old gentleman. He looked remarkably happy, for he would willingly have given hundreds for that which he had purchased for thirty-five pounds. Once more he approached the painting, gazing now with a sort of parental admiration; but this time Henry Cummins was at his elbow. A quick beating of the heart had superseded the thickness in his throat as the latter exclaimed-" Sir, I will give you twenty pounds for your bargain!"

"Sir, I would not take fifty," returned the other. "What will you take?" rejoined Henry. "Nothing you can offer. Sir, I mean to keep the picture" and the old gentleman clasped his arms behind his back, in his favourite attitude of determination.

"I was deputed by Mr Cummins," exclaimed Henry, after a moment's pause, "to buy in this painting; it is much prized by him, having many old family associations, and at the last moment he repented having offered it for sale. You would not have had it, sir, had the auctioneer been a second less quick in his decision."

"Lucky for me, lucky for me, that he was so sharp; and I have nothing to do with the repentance of such a young scapegrace as Mr Henry Cummins." "Do you know him, sir?"

"Enough to know that the picture is much safer in my possession than in his. I suppose he is going to turn shoe-black, or something of that sort; he can't be fit for any thing better, I should think."

"They say he is going to India-a friendless, moneyless adventurer."

"Eh! what!-well, it is never too late to reform; but I can't let him have the picture for all that. Good morning, sir; my carriage is waiting"

There are mysterious chords in our nature, which trifles may sometimes awaken to the holiest purposes; and the feelings which this incident drew forth formed the key-stone to the strong arch of Henry Cummins' good resolutions-an arch which spanned his future life. He had hitherto, like thousands of young men in similar circumstances, lived a life of pure heedlessness-taking no thought of the morrow-ignorant of the value of money-and concerned only in the paltry and fleeting enjoyments of the senses; but while his long, and fond, and earnest farewell gaze rested upon that picture, he understood, for the first time, that we have duties in this world to perform, beyond mere

enjoyment or the maintenance of one's own existence, and he turned away calmer, more collected, almost happier, than he had felt for many a day.

Ten years passed away, bringing about their strange revolutions; ripening youth to manhood, and tainting the pride and vigour of maturity with decay sweeping many a loved one from our hearth, but weaving fresh ties around the heart, as a ruin that is supported by the sweet young flowers which twine there; and yet the older we grow, the more stubborn are such tendrils, though, if they do enwreath themselves, it is with ties that can scarcely be severed. Ten years, then, working their wondrous changes, had passed away, when, on a bright sunshine morning, a stranger arrived at one of London's regal-looking hotels. He was a passenger from India, by the good ship Ariel, and there came in his train a due proportion of those ponderous packages and chests with which the Anglo-Indians very properly encumber themselves-perhaps as containing a sort of ransom money with which to buy back the regard and affection of which absence may have robbed them. The stranger at the —, however, had few Friends in England, although he brought home several chests; one especially the cognoscenti would have selected at a venture, as containing the most precious deposits, though its solid black leather exterior might have seemed unpretending to the inexperienced. Now, if the truth must be told, the stranger had returned to England for three especial reasons; two will be told presently, the other was to find a wife. Whether he was of opinion that, as second-rate goods are manufactured for exportation, so, speaking generally, they are not first-rate parties which find their way to the Indian market of matrimony, the chronicle of his life declareth not, though the fact of his not having "suited himself" while abroad, would suggest the idea that he might be a little fastidious, and that, although a successful man of business, and a thorough man of the world, there might still exist in his mind a belief in the divinity of love-call it, if you will, a vein of romance, but in some natures it can never be worked out, and does almost ever exist with the loftiest order of minds. Well, then, the "black chest" contained gifts for this imaginary being-for, of course, she would be worthy to be robed with the delicate filmy muslins of Dacca (fit for Titania and her court), or to move beneath the graceful folds of the soft and peerless Cashmere.

But we must return to the little old gentleman, mentioned long ago. Ten years seemed to have passed him by with a very slight and friendly greeting. There sat Sir James Howard, so very like his former self that one might have fancied the suit of brown he wore was the identical apparel alluded to before; perhaps a very keen observer might have remembered that, ten years ago, there were a few dark hairs amid the snow-drifts of time, whereas now all were white; perhaps, too, his habitual stoop was a little more remarkable, and his hand (that great test of age) a little more wrinkled; but the bright, intelligent, good countenance, seemed just the same as ever. His house was a short distance from London, and he sat in a favourite morning room, the walls of which were decorated with gems of art; books, also, were there, not too formally arranged; and the French windows opened into a flower-garden, admitting the summer breeze laden with sweets. A servant entered with the card of "Mr Henry Cummins," and Sir James desiring him to be admitted, the stranger entered the room. Simultaneously with offering his apologies for intruding, the latter glanced round the apartment, while an anxious expression gathered upon his countenance.

"I fear, Sir James, I am scarcely remembered," exclaimed Henry. And Sir James put his finger to his brow as if to invoke recollection, before he replied, "The name is familiar to me, though I cannot exactly

tell how."

"You-you-Sir James, you purchased a picture that once belonged to me."

and in all my exertions in that distant field of enterprise, I was not less animated by repentant feeling than by the hope and belief of regaining the picture which fortune had made yours; in short, that picture has been the soul of my reformation. I am now blessed with the means of independence; and here, then, I appear with the wish to gain back the object of my long-cherished desires."

Sir James was not unmoved by the ingenuous appeal; but he was inexorable. Henry, in some respect, felt himself to be ill-used; yet of what should he complain? Surely, a man has a right to retain the purchase he has lawfully made. Although continuing obdurate to all offers, Sir James had the condescension to ask his visiter to walk into the drawing-room to look at the picture. Henry followed, trembling; for while it was unredeemed, he felt the painting would gaze upon him like a reproving spirit. There it was, in the centre of one side of the room, and provided with a new and gorgeous frame; the light, too, was most favourable. What memories did it bring back to the spendthrift's mind! His mother's gentle touch, her loving kiss-his father's counsel-the voices of early friends-and the forms of all-and scenes of long, long ago-seemed vividly to pass before him. Like the buried cities which lay for centuries at the volcano's foot, so there are thoughts and feelings which rest entombed beneath, not destroyed by, the lava ashes of time and circumstances. To his heart and fancy the figures did not look at him reproachfully as he had expected them to do, but seemed to wear an expression more of sorrow than of anger, and he felt that he would have given much to be alone with the picture for an hour, for Sir James stood by him, with his arms clasped behind as formerly, muttering audibly, "No, I will never sell this picture." Poor Henry was summoning his courage for the leave-taking, and gazing like a lover at a mistress who could never be his, when a joyous laugh, evidently proceeding from the adjoining room, fell upon his ear; it jarred upon his spirits, and seemed almost as discordant as that he well remembered ten years before. The voice and laugh were peculiar, and he felt certain the tiresome child was near. Of course, a moment's thought convinced him that the child must be now a woman; but he felt almost sure she had red hair, had a strong impression that she squinted, and associated her as well, in some incongruous manner, with a laughing hyæna. One more appeal before he departed; it was this :-"Sir James, if I survive you, will you direct your executors to sell me the picture? or will you give me the power, in case I should die first, of willing it into my family, by any pecuniary arrangement with my heirs and yours which you may like to make ?"

"Well, perhaps, it may be yours after my death." And so they parted.

Poor Henry Cummins returned to his hotel vexed and disappointed. He had taken the precaution of leaving his address with Sir James, in case the latter should change his mind, which did not, however, appear a very probable event. Out of spirits, and perhaps a little out of humour, the day dragged wearily on. In the evening he strolled out for an hour, and bethought himself of walking down the street in which was his former home. The old house, which he had left bare and tenantless, was now lit up for a party; it seemed as if every thing that day were destined to assume an uncongenial unsympathising air; and he bent his steps homeward more desponding than ever. On his arrival he found a huge packing case in his apartment, and a note from Sir James Howard. The eccentric old gentleman kept his word -he did not sell the picture, he gave it to a reformed spendthrift! Yes, there it was, and in the old frame too. To be sure, some people might have hinted that the handsome one was reserved for another favourite, but they would have done Sir James injustice. He knew human nature well, and he knew that the kindly feeling displayed in the preservation and recollection even of an old picture-frame would not be lost on the heart of Henry Cummins.

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"You! Are you that Mr Cummins ?" rejoined Sir James, eyeing his visiter from top to toe, with a look Our space forbids us to describe minutely Henry that plainly indicated he remembered Henry's early Cummins' second visit to Sir James Howard; how career, and the circumstances which had led him to the cheerful aspect of the different apartments failed predicate that the "scapegrace" must turn shoe-black. now to oppress or deject him; or how even a certain That could not have been the occupation of the gen- laugh seemed musical. But the second visit was not tlemanly, indeed distinguished-looking, person now the last, for the reformed spendthrift had won an before him; and Sir James recollecting, with the eccentric but sincere and lasting friend. He was inlightning flash of thought, every particular connected troduced to Julia, and assuredly there was nothing with the sale, gave a shrewd guess at the object of about her to recall his former unfavourable impression. Henry Cummins' visit, and-grew a little out of Her eyes were as straight as his own (and they were temper. Yes, as faithful historians, we must confess rather handsome ones), but of the deep blue of a he felt cross; for, as the sun has spots, so the dear, violet, and her hair of that sunny brown that even good, little, old gentleman had one fault-he was, on an enemy" would call auburn. They became inparticular subjects, of an irritable temper. The pic-timate, and Henry grew to delight in the rich voice ture he still retained, and prized highly. Inclination and joyous laugh; and Julia had a heart, and could was at war with the promptings of his own kind, weep sometimes: warm, fresh, evergreen heart, and the more the former succumbed, the more peevish in manner did he grow. It is almost needless to hint that the object of Henry Cummins' visit was to regain it at any pecuniary sacrifice. He was a proud young man, and yet he bore the reproaches with meekness which Sir James could not help insinuating, and owned his errors frankly. "I can assure you, Sir James," he said, "when I Bought for and accepted a situation in India from an old friend of my father, it was with the most anxious desire to redeem past errors-errors which, I may take leave to say, were of the heart not of the head;

"For the heart which is soonest alive to the flowers,

Is always the first to be touched by the thorns." One day he sat beside her at the piano, and remarking (not for the first time) that her hands were whiter than the ivory, he bethought him of a certain diamond which was in the "black chest" among other unset gems, and he was sure it could never find so fit a home as on one of those snowy fingers. It was presented-accepted; and as the chest was opened, he found, among other half-forgotten treasures, an ivory work-box, looking as if it belonged to her; there was room for her name on it, and he thought of having

Julia Howard engraven, but he recollected she might marry, and so the blank space remained. In another week some other thought caused the black_chest to be again inspected; but when he came to close it, the contents had been so much disturbed, that without removing an embroidered cashmere, the lid would remain obstinately gaping. He took out the cashmere, paused for a moment, smiled, as if some agreeable thought occurred for the first time-and-and Decca muslins, cashmeres, boxes, fans, card-cases, attar, chains, rings, unset diamonds, &c. &c., found but one mistress. In less than three months from that day, more pretty things than one were engraved— Julia Cummins. Thus were two of the ardent wishes of Henry Cummins accomplished, and the third was in his own power to fulfil. Although the career in India, which had blessed him with an ample fortune, had unfitted him to pursue the study of the law, he understood that conduct sheds as much lustre on a family as the display of talents: that was in his power; and if vanity is sometimes pained by the recollection of the name he might have won, he owns that the punishment is just, though, while he regrets the past, he feels gratefully happy that he has redeemed it. So true is it that "there is a future to all who have the virtue to repent and the energy to atone."

CATACOMBS OF PARIS.

THE origin of the great catacombs, or receptacles for the dead, attached to the French capital, is in every point of view curious and interesting. Previously to the latter end of last century, the burial-places of the city were in a condition at once disgusting and destructive to human health. One of the early French kings had bestowed a piece of the royal suburban grounds on the inhabitants as a place of interment; and this spot, the site subsequently of the church of the Innocents, continued for nine or ten centuries to serve as the sole or principal receptacle for the dead in Paris. Not only was this the case, but the cemetery was also applied to its purposes in a manner unusually dangerous. Large pits were formed, each about thirty feet deep and twenty feet square, and into these coffins were lowered, one tier above another, without any intervening earth, until the pits were filled. Each was then covered with a thin layer of soil. The common number of bodies cast into every excavation amounted to from twelve to fifteen hundred; and, in the thirty years preceding 1780, nearly ninety thousand bodies had been thus deposited in the charnel-holes of the Innocents. Once in every thirty or forty years, it had been customary to execute the frightful task of opening and emptying these pits; but, in the case of great numbers of the older ones, this task had long ceased to be fulfilled, and they accordingly remained unmoved, though so choked up with the matter of corruption as to rise above the level of the adjoining streets, and seriously to affect the air in the ground-flats of the houses. It was supposed that, from the time of Philip Augustus, more than 1,200,000 bodies in all, had been interred in the cemetery of the Innocents; and as the mouldering bones, even when the pits were cleaned out, were merely conveyed to an arched gallery surrounding the burial-ground, it might be said that some portion of all that had ever lain there still remained.

When all men of science and sense were beginning to recognise the necessity of remedying this evil, another cause of peril and alarm chanced to agitate the city of Paris; but, fortunately, the one was found capable of serving as a remedy for the other. Quarries of stone had been opened in the immediate vicinity of Paris at an early period of its history, and had been wrought to a large extent in the course of successive ages, to supply materials for the increasing city. In consequence, a vague notion existed among the inhabitants, that the city was considerably undermined. Little attention was paid to the matter till 1774, when some alarming shocks and falls of houses aroused the fears of the government. A regular survey took place, and the result was the frightful discovery, that the churches, palaces, and almost all the southern parts of the city of Paris, rested upon immense irregular excavations, and stood the greatest risk of ere long sinking into them. A special commission was immediately appointed to take the proper steps for averting such a catastrophe ; and the necessity of such a commission was made strikingly apparent on the first day of its operations, by an accident in the Rue d'Enfer. A house in that street sunk down in an instant, eightand-twenty metres below the level of its court-yard.

When all the labyrinths of the quarries were inspected, and plans taken of them, the alarm of the Parisians was far from being abated. Every quarrier had habitually worked, it appeared, where he chose or where he could; and, in many cases, excavation was found below excavation, the whole running to almost interminable lengths, while the pillars that had been left were found in almost all cases to be totally insufficient to bear permanently the enormous weight above. In various instances, the roof had sunk considerably, and in others, large masses had actually fallen, rendering it almost marvellous that the city should not long before have become a mass of ruins. The great aqueduct of Arcueil, which passed over this scene of hidden peril, had in reality suffered some shocks, and if the risk had not been timeously discovered, it can scarcely be doubted that the ultimate issue would have been the charging of the quarries

with water and the sapping of the city. The commission began its work of cure, aided by a very large body of workmen. Great pains were taken in cutting galleries from labyrinth to labyrinth, to ascertain the extent of the mischief, and in vaulting and propping every part that seemed to require such support. The extent of the quarries, however, rendered the labour gigantic, and, long ere matters were permanently put in order, the happy idea of converting these excava tions into receptacles for the refuse of the charnelhouse of the Innocents, had occurred to M. Lenoir, the inspector of the city police. The suggestion was made public, and approved of by the Council of State, who, in 1785, decreed the opening of the charnel-pits of the Innocents, and the removal of the bones of the dead to the quarries. The first step was to make an entrance into the quarries by a flight of seventy-seven steps, and to sink a shaft from the surface, down which the relics of mortality might be thrown. At the same time, the workmen below walled off that portion of the excavation designed for the great charnel-house,

and properly supported the roof. On the 7th of April 1786, all the preparations being completed, the new catacombs were consecrated with much solemnity, and on that same day the work of removal began. Bones and partially preserved coffins were brought by night to the shaft in funeral cars, followed by robed priests chanting the service for the dead. The nature of the task, the glare of the torches, and, above all, the hollow rattling and echoing of skeletons, bones, and broken wood, in their fall down the shaft, sent back as the sounds were by the vaults below, rendered the whole scene peculiarly impressive and awful.

But the relics of human beings, in their ordinary condition, were not the most remarkable part of the materials transferred from one site to another on this occasion. The pits of the Innocents exhibited immense masses of the soft white substance called adipocire, into which the bodies had been converted, and which had been noticed under similar circumstances at former periods. Adipocire had some of the mingled qualities of wax and tallow, being capable of use in the manufacture of candles. Respect, however, for what had once been the human body, of course dictated the consignment of the masses of adipocire found in the pits of the Innocents, to the new catacombs under the Plaine de Mont-Rouge.

The catacombs of Paris received in succession the contents of the smaller cemeteries of Saint-Eustache and Saint-Etienne-des-Gres, after those mentioned. There, too, the victims of the revolution found a ready and roomy abode; and when the popular fury demolished a number of the churches, the bones lodged in them after the old fashion were removed to the same great receptacle. Between 1792 and 1808, the catacombs received the exhumations of twelve other minor cemeteries in and around Paris. Between 1808 and 1811, new excavations, made in the cemetery of the Innocents for the passage of a canal, rendered it necessary to convey a large quantity of additional relics to the catacombs; and a few other churches and cemeteries were emptied into them in the course of the next few years. Having thus made use of the quarries, and poured into them in all an immense quantity of human remains, the Parisians did not adopt the catacombs, as perhaps they might wisely have done, as their general burying-place. On the contrary, they created various new cemeteries above ground, though under comparatively excellent regulations, as the famous Père la Chaise and Montmartre sufficiently testify.

also seen the great aqueduct of Arcueil, with its sup-
porting columns. Ly various sinuosities, the visiter
arrives at the gallery of Port Mahon, so called from
a sculptured view of the taking of that fort executed
by Decure, an invalid soldier. He perished there by
a fall of the rocks, while the chisel was yet in his hand.
A fountain was here discovered by the workmen, and a
basin made for their use, with a small subterraneous
aqueduct. It was first called the Well of Lethe, and
was inscribed with a couplet from Virgil ; but a Scrip-
tural quotation, more appropriate to the place, now
marks its site-"Whosoever drinketh of this water,
shall thirst again; but whosoever drinketh of the
water I shall give him, shall never thirst; but the
water that I shall give him, shall be to him a well of
water springing up into everlasting life." It contains
a few gold-fish, which seem to bear that dark abode
very well, as we find them mentioned by visiters both
of 1818 and 1832. A few other inscriptions are to be
found here, such as Dante's famous line-

"Leave hope behind, all ye who enter here."

A fire is also kept burning, in an antiquely-shaped
vase, to purify the air of the vaults.
A mineralogical collection of some interest has been
formed from the various strata composing the sides of
the galleries. But the most interesting collection here
is the Museum of the Dead. On approaching the
catacomb galleries, the visiter finds the vestibule to be
in the form of an octagon. Its gate is flanked by two
pillars, and is inscribed above with some lines of
poetry. The interior of the catacombs is arranged
with propriety and decorum. The crypts holding the
divisions of piled bones have each of them different
names, some of which are appropriate, others absurd.
There is the crypt or niche of Eternity, for example,
that of Death, and that of the Resurrection, each
marked by corresponding inscriptions. There is also
a niche for the victims of the Revolution, with some
Latin lines above, which may be rudely Englished-

"THESE, when fierce Discord had usurp'd the throne,

Prompter of crimes and law and right were scorn'd—
By bloody ruthless men were done to death."
Among the inappropriately named crypts may safely
be reckoned those to which the names of Ovid, Ana-
creon, and some others, have been applied. An album,
as might have been anticipated, is among the other
appendages of the catacombs.

The other galleries of these great excavations need
not be named or described in detail. One general
feature marks them all, and it is worthy of mention,
as reminding us most forcibly that these vaults are
not simple objects of curiosity, or to be thought of
merely as pleasant spectacles, but are to be lamented
as the possible sources of calamity and ruin to the
great city under which blind neglect allowed them to
be formed. Constant attention to them is imperatively
demanded to secure the safety of the capital of France,
and the provision adverted to consists in every subter-
ranean street being numbered precisely like the one
occupying the ground above. This is necessary in
order to apply new supports, on the slightest indi-
cation of danger, to the exact point where they are
required.

CATLIN'S WORK ON THE NORTH
AMERICAN INDIANS.

octavo, and closely printed, are full of most interesting matter, and contain, besides, not less than four hundred beautiful illustrations, engraved from the original paintings. From the large stores of varied matter which Mr Catlin presents to us, we shall take leave to lay before the reader, in the first place, one of the author's experiences as a wandering traveller. He was one day riding across an Upper Missouri prairie, where the grass is seven or eight feet high, with three companions, one an Indian guide of the name of Pah-me-o-ne-qua, or the red thunder. Three of the party sat down to their mid-day meal, but the Indian stood aloof, sad and thoughtful. “This is the plain of fire grass,” said he, “ where the fleet-bounding wild horse mingles his bones with the red man, and the eagle's wing is melted as he darts over its surface." Notwithstanding these ominous words, after gazing long around, he gracefully sank down on the grass, and his relieved companions chatted cheerfully by his side. But on a sudden "Red Thunder was on his feet-his long arm was stretched over the grass, and his blazing eyeballs starting from their sockets.

White man,' said he, see ye that small cloud lifting itself from the prairie he rises! the hoofs of our horses have waked him! The Fire Spirit is awake this wind is from his nostrils, and his face is this way.' No more; but his swift horse darted under him, and he gracefully slid over the waving grass as it was bent by the wind. Our viands were left, and we were swift on his trail. The extraordinary leaps of his wild horse occasionally raised his red shoulders to view, and he sank again in the waving billows of grass. The tremulous wind was hurrying by us fast, and on it was borne the agitated wing of the soaring eagle. His neck was stretched for the towering bluff, and the thrilling screams of his voice told the secret that was behind him. Our horses were swift, and we struggled hard; yet hope was feeble, for the bluff was yet blue, and nature nearly exhausted. The sunshine was dying, and a cool shadow advancing over the plain. Not daring to look back, we strained every nerve. The roar of a distant cataract seemed gradually advancing on us-the winds increased, the howling tempest was maddening behind us-and the swift-winged beetle and heath hens instinctively drew their straight lines over our heads. The fleet-bounding antelope passed us also; and the still swifter long-legged hare, who leaves but a shadow as he flies. Here was no time for thought; but I recollect the heavens were overcastthe distant thunder was heard-the lightning's glare was reddening the scene-and the smell that came on the winds struck terror to my soul. * The piercing yell of my savage guide at this moment came back upon the winds; his robe was seen waving in the air, and his foaming horse leaping up the towering bluff.

Our breath and our sinews, in this last struggle for life, were just enough to bring us to its summit. We had risen from a sea of fire! Great God!' I exclaimed,

how sublime to gaze into that valley, where the elements of nature are so strangely convulsed!' Ask not the poet or painter how it looked, for they can tell you not; but ask the naked savage, and watch the electric twinge of his manly nerves and muscles, as he pronounces the lengthened Hush-sh-,' his hand on his mouth, and his glaring eyeballs looking you to the very soul.

I beheld beneath me an immense cloud of black

smoke, which extended from one extremity of this vast plain to the other, and seemed majestically to roll over its surface in a bed of liquid fire; and above this mighty desolation, as it rolled along, the whitened smoke, pale with terror, was streaming and rising up in magnificent cliffs to heaven.

Of all the works yet published on the subject of the aboriginal inhabitants of North America, no one, it The revolutionary disturbances impeded the opeseems to us, can be compared in point of accuracy and rations still requisite to render the vast quarries and extent of research with that of Mr George Catlin, catacombs of Paris stable and safe. The ordinary newly reprinted in Great Britain from the American vaults became, consequently, full of cracks, water fil- edition. A surprising amount of time and labour I stood secure, but tremblingly, and heard the madtrated through the roofs, and fresh downfalls seemed has been devoted by the author to the collection of dening wind, which hurled this monster o'er the land impending. The air was rendered noxious by the materials for his task. Born on the banks of the I heard the roaring thunder, and saw its thousand want of circulation. In 1810, M. de Thury, the archi- Susquehannah in Wyoming, Mr Catlin was ori-lightnings flash; and then I saw behind the black and tect, began to make new repairs. He built new pil-ginally set to the study of the law; but, unable to smoking desolation of this storm of fire." lars, and formed channels for removing the water. resist the strong bent of his genius, he turned aside Another adventure, illustrative of life on the prairies, Air was introduced simply but effectively, by luting from the legal profession, and became a painter in occurred to Mr Catlin when travelling alone. Alarmed the upper half of a broken bottle, with the neck outerA few years afterwards, a deputa- at the violence of an epidemic at Fort Gibson on the Philadelphia. most, into the wells which supply the houses above tion of noble-looking Indians came to the city, and Arkansas, he resolved to leave the baneful spot, and with water, and which had been made to descend made so deep an impression on his fancy, that he ride across to the Missouri, over a nearly desolate resolved not only to visit these "beautiful models" tract, five hundred miles in breadth. Though much through the quarries to the ground below, like so many round towers. By uncorking these bottle-necks, of the human form in their native wilds, but also to dissuaded, he started on his jouruey, with no compaair is let in at will. As regarded the catacombs, the devote his lifetime to the task of illustrating, by picto- nion but his old friend Charley, a clay-hued horse of bones lay in heaps thirty yards high in some places, rial representations, the history and customs of this the Camanchee wild breed. After twenty-five days and the workmen had to make galleries through them, people, destined, it would seem, to be known to future of perfectly solitary travelling, Mr Catlin had an and pile them along the walls in regular order. Such ages only by such records, timeously formed. Sacrific-adventure when he rested for the night. "I generally as exhibited disease were arranged into an osteological ing to this great object the society of a beloved family, halted on the bank of some little stream, at half an cabinet. In short, order and security were, for the and all the comforts of home, Mr Catlin set out in hour's sun, where feed was good for Charley, and where first time, truly introduced into the arrangements of 1832 for the Upper Missouri, with the fixed resolve I could get wood to kindle my fire, and water for my that nothing short of the loss of life should prevent coffee. The first thing was to undress Charley and the full completion of his purpose. In the course of drive down his picket, to which he was fastened, to almost from end to end, saw and mixed with forty- of his lasso. In this wise he busily fed himself until the succeeding eight years, he traversed North America graze over a circle that he could describe at the end eight Indian tribes, composing a large portion of the nightfall; and after my coffee was made and drank, two millions of red people yet in existence, examined I uniformly moved him up, with his picket by my personally into all their peculiarities, and, finally, accumulated a noble gallery of portraits and a rich head, so that I could lay my hand upon his lasso in an instant, in case of any alarm that was liable to drive museum of curiosities, calculated to form at once a him from me. On one of these evenings when he was lasting monument to himself, and an invaluable record grazing as usual, he slipped the lasso over his head, and of Indian persons, manners, and habiliments. he chose to prefer it, as he was strolling around. When deliberately took his supper at his pleasure, wherever night approached, I took the lasso in hand and endea voured to catch him, but I soon saw that he was determined to enjoy a little freedom; and he continually evaded me until dark, when I abandoned the pursuit, making up my mind that I should inevitably

this subterranean world.

The catacombs of Paris remain, generally speaking, nearly in the same condition as left by M. de Thury, though various minor improvements have been added, to render the place more interesting to visitants. Three staircases, of which the best known is that of the Barrière d'Enfer, conduct the modern visiter into the vaults. On entering, a black line is to be noticed traversing the centre of the passages, and forming a guide through them, which the most familiarised visiter cannot safely neglect. On the right and left of the first gallery, that of the Rue St Jacques, several others are seen stretching away under the plain of Mont Rouge. The visiter cannot penetrate far, until he sees startling marks of the fall of rocks, and beholds stalactites hanging down in abundance from the walls. In the gallery under the street St Jacques, is

This is a long exordium, but Mr Catlin, combining all the qualities of the traveller, artist, and historian, merits no sparing notice. His two volumes, large

Letters and Notes on the Manners, Customs, and Condition

of the North American Indians, By George Catlin. London:
Published by the Author at the Egyptian Hall 1841.

lose him, and be obliged to perform the rest of my journey on foot. He had led me a chase of half a mile or more, when I left him busily grazing, and returned to my little solitary bivouac, and laid myself on my bear skin, and went to sleep.

In the middle of the night I waked, whilst I was lying on my back, and on half opening my eyes, I was shocked to the soul, by the huge figure (as I thought) of an Indian standing over me, and in the very instant of taking my scalp. The chill of horror that paralysed me for the first moment, held me still till I saw there was no need of my moving-that my faithful horse Charley had played shy' till he had filled his belly, and had then moved up, from feelings of pure affection, or from instinctive fear, or, possibly, from a due share of both, and taken his position with his forefeet at the edge of my bed, with his head hanging directly over me, while he was standing fast asleep."

LETTERS FROM A LADY IN LONDON TO
HER NIECE IN THE COUNTRY.
STAFFORD HOUSE.

MY DEAR JANE,-As my last letter appears to have
afforded you some degree of gratification, I am again
tempted to address you, in the hope that this epistle
Since I last
may prove equally amusing to you.
wrote, I have been making the best use of my time, to
dispose of which judiciously in London requires no
small degree of management. Some days ago, I was
fortunate enough to procure a note of admission to
Stafford House, the town residence of the Duke of
This is not one of the common sights
of London, no one being admitted without an order
from the Duke or Duchess of Sutherland. Along
with two friends, I availed myself of the privilege

room are of green satin damask. We passed again through the first room to another, the walls of which are graced by some of Wilkie's paintings. On one side is a fine portrait of Lady Grosvenor, which had had the effect of at one time inspiring a groom of the chambers with a passion for painting, which he indulged by making a very tolerable copy. The Countess-Duchess of Sutherland took the picture, and. rewarded the aspiring groom handsomely. This house appears to be favourable to the development of genius, for we were told of another person, a boy, who acted as a kind of supernumerary in the butler's pantry, and who tried to copy a portrait of the duke. He was also taken notice of and encouraged. Next to this is the drawing-room, a fine large room, with two handsome fire-places, the mantel-pieces being of white marble, beautifully carved. The walls are hung with yellow satin damask; the sofas, chairs, &c., of yellow and blue satin damask. In the middle of the room there is a raised pillar, of some kind of white composition, with a thick wreath of gilding twining round it. This pillar supports a globe or ball of bronze, encircled by a belt of gilt, with numerical figures round it. Under the ball there are little bronze figures, holding up a serpent, and the head of the serpent acts as a hand of a clock, the machinery being within the ball, which revolves, the figures indicating the time: round the base of the pillar is a circular sofa. In the next room, over the mantel-piece, is a splendid full-length portrait of the Duchess of Sutherland, with a beautiful child seated on her knee. Opposite to this is a picture by Martin-the Assuaging of the Waters of the Deluge. This is the last of the suite of rooms on the_ground-floor to the back, all of which look into St James's Park. You issue from this into another long corridor, corresponding exactly with the one on the other side by which we entered, also filled in the same tasteful manner with some very fine paintings, vases, &c. There were two pictures, so beautiful that we could have lingered before them for hours. These represented the children of the Duke of Sutherland— lovely little creatures, elegant in form and feature, and gracefully grouped together.

of bravery she had performed-of the incredible number of horses she had stolen-of the scalps she had taken, &c. &c. ; until her feats surpassed all that had ever been heard of-sufficient to put all the warriors who had boasted to the blush. They all gave assent, however, to what she had said, and apparently credence, too; and to rewara such extraordinary feats of female prowess, they presented to her a kettle, a cradle, beads, ribbons, &c. After getting her presents, and placing them safely in the hands of another matron for safe keeping, she commenced disrobing herself; and, almost instantly divesting herself of a loose dress, in the presence of the whole company, came out in a soldier's coat and pantaloons, and laughed at them excessively for their mistake. She then commenced dancing and making her boasts of her exploits, assuring them that she was a man, and a great brave. They all gave unqualified assent to this, Intending to take another glance at the compre- acknowledged their error, and made her other prehensive contents of these volumes, we shall go on with sents of a gun, a horse, of tobacco, and a war-club. extracts taken almost at random on the present occa- After her boasts were done, and the presents secured sion. Reaching the country of the Camanchees, on as before, she deliberately threw off the pantaloons the upper parts of the Red River, he found this large and coat, and presented herself at once, and to their tribe to be one of those whom the introduction of great astonishment and confusion, in a beautiful horses by the Spaniards had totally altered in cha-woman's dress. The tact with which she performed racter and position. Great troops of wild horses, small, these parts, so uniformly pleased, that it drew forth but strong and delicately limbed, traverse the prairies thundering applause from the Indians, as well as from here, and the Camanchee almost lives in the saddle. the spectators; and the chief stepped up and crowned He wars on horseback, and his main sports are eques- her head with a beautiful plume of the eagle's quill, trian. "Racing horses, it would seem, is a constant rising from a crest of the swan's down." and almost incessant exercise, and their principal At another opportunity, we shall present a further mode of gambling; and, perhaps, a more finished set notice of these highly interesting volumes. of jockeys are not to be found. The exercise of these people, in a country where horses are so abundant, and the country so fine for riding, is chiefly done on horseback; and it stands to reason,' that such a people, who have been practising from their childhood, should become exceedingly expert in this wholesome and beautiful exercise. Amongst their feats of riding, there is one that has astonished me more than any thing of the kind I have ever seen, or expect to see, in my life; a stratagem of war, learned and practised by every young man in the tribe, by which he is able to drop his body upon the side of his horse at the instant he is passing, effectually screened from his enemies' weapons, as he lies in a horizontal position behind the body of his horse, with his heel hanging over the horse's back-by which he has the power of throwing himself up again, and changing to the other side of the horse, if necessary. In this wonderful condition, he will hang whilst his horse is at fullest speed, carrying with him his bow and his shield, and also his long lance of fourteen feet in length, all or either of which he will wield upon his enemy as he which had been obtained, on Friday last, and what I the land. The Earls of Sutherland continued to exist passes; rising and throwing his arrows over the horse's back, or, with equal ease and equal success, under the horse's neck. This astonishing feat, which the young men have been repeatedly playing off to our surprise as well as amusement, whilst they have been galloping about in front of our tents, completely puzzled the whole of us, and appeared to be the result of magic, rather than of skill acquired by practice. I had several times great curiosity to approach them, to ascertain by what means their bodies could be suspended in this manner, where nothing could be seen but the heel hanging over the horse's back. In these endeavours I was continually frustrated, until one day I coaxed a young fellow up within a little distance of me, by offering him a few plugs of tobacco, and he in a moment solved the difficulty, so far as to render it apparently more feasible than before; yet leaving it one of the most extraordinary results of practice and persevering endeavours. I found, on examination, that a short hair halter was passed around under the neck of the horse, and both ends tightly braided into the mane, on the withers, leaving a loop to hang under the neck, and against the breast, which, being caught up in the hand, makes a sling into which the elbow falls, taking the weight of the body on the middle of the upper arm. Into this loop the rider drops suddenly and fearlessly, leaving his heel to hang over the back of the horse, to steady him, and also to enable him when he wishes to regain his upright Besides this wonderful art, these people have several other feats of horsemanship, which they are continually showing off; which are pleasing and extraordinary, and of which they seem very proud. A people who spend so very great a part of their lives actually on their horses' backs, must needs become exceedingly expert in every thing that pertains to riding-to war or to the chase; and I am ready, without hesitation, to pronounce the Camanchees the most extraordinary horsemen that I have seen yet in all my travels, and I doubt very much whether any people in the world can surpass them."

position on the horse's back.

The Indians, again, who live farther north from Mexico, and who are compelled to live as their fathers did, far excel the Camanchees in all ball-plays, games, and sports performed on foot, and these form much of the business of Indian life. To entertain our readers, we quote one scene which Mr Catlin saw at a great Indian dance at St Anthony on the Upper Mississippi. "During this scene, a little trick was played off in the following manner, which produced much amusement and laughter :-A woman of goodly size, and in woman's attire, danced into the ring (which seemed to excite some surprise, as women are never allowed to join in the dance), and commenced sawing the air, and boasting of the astonishing feats

Sutherland.

saw on that occasion will be the subject of my present
communication.

Stafford House is next to St James's Palace, the
back looking towards St James's Park, and the front
entrance looking in the same direction as the front of
the palace; the side windows command a view of the
door of St James's, which is not in the front of the
building—at which door, I believe, the Queen always
enters. The drive or carriage-road leading to the
park, divides Stafford House from the Palace of St
James's. The house is a large, handsomely built,
square edifice, possessed originally by the Duke of
York, after whose death it became the residence of
Mrs Coutts, afterwards Duchess of St Albans. It
was ultimately bought by the late Duke of Suther-
land; but the furnishing and arrangements internally
were not completed until after it came into the pos-
session of the present noble proprietor, who has spared
nothing that could add to the effect of the internal

decorations.

The main entrance to Stafford House is surmounted by a stone pediment supported on pillars. On entering the lobby, which is laid with black and white floorcloth, you find yourself reflected in the opposite doors, which are entirely composed of mirror glass. There is a small apartment on the right and another on the left side of the door, for the accommodation of the porter, I suppose. You ascend one or two steps, and by a side door are admitted into a long corridor, lighted by a window looking to the front. This gallery is hung with pictures, and along each side there are close cabinets, painted cream colour, containing books. The tops of these cabinets, which were about four feet high, are of white marble, surmounted with busts, vases, and various kinds of ornaments. There are, besides a fine portrait of the present duke by Sir Thomas Lawrence, marble busts of the duke and duchess, beautifully executed, the one on the right and the other on the left hand in walking along. At the extremity of this corridor, we were admitted to a moderately sized apartment, in which there were some of the them so singularly pleasing was their appearing perfinest landscape paintings I ever saw-what made fectly natural. We were led from this into an apartment on the right, where there is a bronze statue of the present Marquis of Stafford, the eldest son of the duke, in a Highland dress. The walls of this

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I find myself obliged to allude so frequently to members of the family, that it seems necessary I should acquaint you with a few particulars respecting it. You are aware of an immense county in the north of Scotland, called Sutherland, which is composed entirely of mountains, valleys, and lakes. This wholly belonged, from the latter part of the twelfth century, to a family supposed to be of Flemish origin, who took their name from it, and became its earls, as a title inferring the possession of and dominion over in an unbroken line of succession for many ages, taking part in most of the great transactions of their time. I may mention, for instance, that the Earl of Sutherland was the first person who signed the National Covenant, on its being brought before the people in the Old Greyfriars' Church in Edinburgh, in the the Scottish people in resistance to Charles I. A year 1638, the object of the document being to unite numerous clan and following recognised the Earl as their chief, calling him, in their own language, Morar Chat, or the great man of the Clan Chattan. At length, after an unbroken line of seventeen earls, the late countess succeeded, when an infant of fifteen months old, notwithstanding a powerful legal opposition from two male relatives. She was called by the Highlanders the Banie Morar Chat, or Woman Morar Chat. She was one of the cleverest peeresses of her day, being in particular a remarkably good draughtswoman. It was her fortune to marry an English nobleman of ancient lineage, and property immense as her own, though perhaps not covering so large a piece of the globe's surface-George Earl Gower, afterwards Marquis of Stafford. In the latter part of their lives, this couple, by the favour of William IV., became Duke and Duchess of Sutherland, a title which has now descended to their eldest son. It used to be said of the Duke of Sutherland, that his income was equal to a thousand pounds a-day. Some years before you knew the world, he executed upon the Countess's Highland estates a change of a most remarkable nature, converting what had formerly been an enormous cluster of small farms, where the people in general lived very miserably, into a series of large sheep-farms, where the people are few fluous people being mostly removed to villages on the but comparatively affluent and comfortable, the supercoast, where they practise fishing and other industrious arts. The change was productive of great discontent, and not in every case effected without somewhat strong measures; but it is every where such was then his title) were good, and that he himacknowledged that the views of the marquis (for self meant that no one should suffer in any respect; and, while Sutherlandshire now sustains as large a population as ever, it cannot well be doubted that the individuals composing it are much better off, in all essential points, than they ever were before. You may believe, as I was walking amidst the splendours of Stafford House, I was constantly thinking cient Dunrobin on the Sutherlandshire coast, where of the connexion of the family with various scenes in my native country of a very different kind-from anthey once lived in a single lofty tower, to Leven House in the suburbs of Edinburgh, where the late Duchess-Countess was born in 1765 a mansion then considered a neat villa for a nobleman's residence,

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