Page images
PDF
EPUB

Prussia.

in project, with the exception of one from Fürth to Nu-Liege; so that the time is not distant when a general remburg, and another from Augsburg to Munich. The line of communication will exist between Belgium and first, which is two Bavarian leagues in length, was constructed by a company of shareholders, and opened in 1835. The last dividend, declared in January 1842, exceeded 16 per cent. That from Munich to Augsburg, also constructed by shares, is 16 Bavarian leagues in length, and cost 9,015,000 f., including a portion of the necessary implements. It was opened in October 1840, and the number of passengers conveyed during the year amounted to 253,680, the total receipts for the same period being 547,774 f.

In 1841, a convention was signed between Bavaria and Saxony, for the construction of a railway from Nuremburg to Leipsic, which is to pass through Bavaria by Erlangen, Bamburg, and Hoff, and through Saxony by Plauen and Altenburgh. The king has also determined on the establishment of a road from Augsburg to Nuremburg, and the entire line from Augsburg to Hoff will be constructed at the expense of the state. The portion which extends from Nuremburg to the frontiers is to be completed in the space of five years. Several other lines are also, though distantly, projected, namely, one striking south-west of Augsburg into the valley of Nerlach, through Kempten to Lindau, on the Lake of Constance; another to Dillingen, thence to join the railway of the Neckar and the Rhine; a third will extend to Ulm, pass through Kaustadt, Heilbronn, and Heidelberg, and join Rhenish Bavaria with Bavaria; a fourth, according to arrangements with Saxony, will diverge at Bamburg from the Nuremburg and Hoff line, extend through Coburg and Meningen, and so reach the Prussian lines. It is probable that a railway will also be established from Munich to Salzburgh and Vienna.

In the Grand Duchy of Baden, the greatest activity is at present displayed in completing a railway stretching from Mannheim, through Heidelberg, Carlsruhe, Kehl, and Freyburg, to the frontiers of Switzerland, near Basle. Its entire length comprises 62 3-10 leagues, and the total cost is estimated at 55,025,218 f.

Wurtemburg has as yet no railways either in a finished state or approaching it, but negotiations have taken place between this state and Baden, which will in all probability terminate in the commencement of a system forming a connexion between the Rhine and the Danube, which will prove of immense importance to all Germany, while at the same time it facilitates its own internal relations. Engineers have examined the country, and have concluded a plan divided into three portions. The first forming a line from Heilbronn to Kaustadt, and from Krusslingen on the frontiers of Baden to Ludwigsburg. The second would join the former line with the Danube, extending from Kaustadt through Goeppingen and Esslingen to Ulm, and consequently would require a section through a chain of the Alps. The third would effect the junction of the Danube with the Lake of Constance, passing through Biberich. This line presents greater difficulties than any of the rest, in consequence of the great heights intervening between Ulm and the Lake of Constance. The estimates for these three divisions amount to 31,430,520 f.

In Prussia, a country admirably adapted by nature for such enterprises, on account of the vast extent of its plains, the railway system is pursued with the greatest activity; and it already possesses several lines of considerable importance, while daily progress is made in the construction of others. From Berlin four lines diverge; the first to Potsdam, 3 German miles in length; it was constructed by shares, and cost 5,090,600 f. The next extends to Frankfort-on-the-Oder, and is in process of construction by a company of shareholders, authorised by royal ordinance, and whose capital amounts to 8,140,000 f. This road, which is 10 German miles in length, will, it is expected, be terminated at the end of the present year, when it will prove of the utmost commercial benefit. Another line proceeds to Koethen, passing through Juterbogh, touching the Elbe at Wittemberg, and after following that stream a short distance, crosses to Dessau. The length of this road is twenty German miles; it was constructed by a company of shareholders with a capital of 4,200,000 dollars, and was thrown open to the public in September 1841. The fourth line, which is now in course of construction, goes to Stettin; it is 18 German miles in length, and will cost, according to the present estimates, 9,271,400 f. The opening of this line will take place, it is anticipated, at the beginning of next year. A railroad has been completed, extending from Magdeburg through Koethen and Halle to Leipsic. It is constructed with a double track, and is 14 miles in length, which distance is performed in from 3 to 33 hours. The plan of this road has been censured by experienced officers, in consequence of its being laid on the left bank of the Elbe, as, in case of a war with the west, it would become necessary to destroy it. It is proposed to establish a line from Halle to Frankfort-onthe-Main, passing through Weimer and Gotha, and the treaty relative to this project has already been signed by the interested states. As it is of the greatest importance, both in a commercial and military point of view, that Halle should be in direct communication with Cassel and Cologne, a railway has been projected effecting this junction. Cassel will also be placed in communication with Altenburgh, with Brunswick, and with Frankfort, and thus will become the centre of five great national lines. From Dusseldorf to Elberfeld there exists a railway four miles in length, which is now open for the conveyance of passengers. The latter town, which is now one of the most important trading centres, will shortly be joined to Cologne by a line extending through Lippstadt to Minden, and connecting the Rhine with the Weser. It will be 34 miles in length, and its cost is estimated at 22,641,000 f. Cologne has already a railway to Aix-la-Chapelle, which is 9 miles long; it was opened in September 1841, and is in the hands of the same company as the Cologne and Minden line. Arrangements have also been made for the establishment of a railway from Minden to Magdeburg, passing through Brunswick and Hanover. Meanwhile, vigorous efforts are being made to complete the line between Aix-la-Chapelle and

[ocr errors]

In the kingdom of Saxony, great attention has been paid, from a very early period, to the construction of railways, and no other part of Germany have they repaid with so much advantage. Leipsic, especially, has beheld its prosperity daily increasing. The railway from this down to Dresden was constructed by shares, and thrown open in 1839. It is 153 German miles in length, and has two tracks, the second of which was completed in September 1840. For the year 1840, the receipts were 1,702,895 f., and the expenses 919,535 f., the number of travellers having been 415,135. The kingdom of Saxony, together with the Duchy of Saxe Altenburgh, has entered into an agreement with Bavaria for the establishment of a line from Leipsic to the frontiers of Bavaria at Hoff, passing through Altenburgh, Krimitzchau, Plauen, &c. The necessary capital is 6,000,000 f., onefourth of which will be supplied by Saxony and Saxe Altenburgh, and the rest by shareholders. The shares are at present all disposed of, and the works were commenced in July 1841. Their conclusion is promised for 1847.

One of the best regulated and most conveniently constructed railways in Germany is that belonging to the free town of Frankfort. It is nine leagues in length, and extends to Wiesbaden, taking in Mentz. The cost of this line was 7,000,000 f., and the returns are now as

much as 16 per cent. The engineer, M. Denis, under

whose direction the works were carried on, is the same who constructed the lines from Nuremburg to Furth, and from Munich to Augsburg.

connecting Florence, Lucca, Pisa, and Leghorn. There is also some question of a railway from Rome to Civita Vecchia. With regard to Switzerland, the great difficulties which the country presents, and the obvious interest of its inhabitants in delaying travellers, will doubtless oppose an obstacle for some time to the establishment of railways. Nevertheless, a line from Basle to Zurich has been talked of.

ANCIENT WORLD.

The ancient world was only a little world. Although warlike, it derives its chief glory from the works of genius, from the writings of poets, historians, and philosophers. Viewed through this glowing but exaggerated medium, that looks great and magnificent which in reality was stinted, meagre, and desolate. Alexander had only ravaged a district. Nations were then only vainly thought he had conquered the universe when he tribes, empires cantons, and their half-savage rulers hardly more potent than emirs of Lebanon or khans of Tartary. Most of what now constitutes the earth, and fills it, was unknown; the great seas and continents were hid below the horizon of the ancients; even the swell of an ocean-tide had scarcely been felt by them; and all their conquests, battles, and bustle-the sites of their great cities and kingdoms, as well as of their histories and epic poems-never ranged far from the tranquil

shores and islets of the Mediterranean lake.

The number of people corresponded to their narrow geographical limits. How, indeed, could mankind be

numerous without the means of sustenance, when there was little commerce, and no manufactures; when they were strangers to the useful arts, by which a dense population can alone be fed, clothed, and lodged? All, therefore, which has been transmitted as to the extreme populousness of the ancient world, may be considered almost Strabo, contained 700,000 inhabitants; Athens, inclusive as deceptious as its oracles. Carthage, according to of slaves, about half a million; Rome, four millions. It

not improbable that in these representations there is a wrong figure or a redundant one. Statements of numbers multiplied, as the grammatical construction does not are very liable to errors, and the errors to be copied or detect them. Besides, it must be remembered of Athens and Rome, that, though termed cities, they were more properly districts or provinces walled in. The present

The kingdom of Hanover is daily expected to conclude a treaty with Brunswick for the establishment of lines connecting Hamburgh, Hildesheim, Celle, and Brunswick; and it is also in negotiation with Bremen on the subject of a railroad to that rich and commercial town. The Duchy of Brunswick has already a railroad in a complete state from Brunswick to Huzzburg, five miles and three quarters in length; and a company is is formed for the construction of a line from Brunswick to Hamburgh, passing through Heide and Luneburg, which, it is anticipated, will be extended to Wismar. The city of Hamburgh will, through the arrangements now in progress in the different states above spoken of, be placed in direct communication-1st, with Berlin, and thence with Frankfort-on-the-Oder and Stettin; 2d, with Madgeburg, and thence with Leipsic and Dresden; 3d, with Hanover, and thence with Brunswick and the Harz. The projected line from Hamburgh to Berlin is already being actively carried out. The subscription lists are closed, and the sum subscribed by Hamburgh amounts to 54,000 f., a very feeble portion of the necessary capital; but it must be considered that it has undertaken solely at its expense that part of the line requiring the most outlay-namely, from Hamburgh to Bergedorf, and which is now almost completed. Hamburgh, however, with the other free towns, Lubeck and Bremen, have not shown themselves so actively disposed to favour this project as Prussia, whose interest is far more evident in it than their own. In Denmark, it is expected that a railway will shortly be commenced from Kiel to Altona; and there is some question of one from the same town to Gluckstadt, on the mouth of the Elbe; but Denmark, who derives a large share of revenue from the tolls of the Sound, has always evinced the strongest opposition to any plans having a view to facilitate the communication by land between the Baltic and the German Ocean. Such interested motives, however, will not hold out long against the strong impulse which now animates the whole confederacy in establishing a great and general system of railway communication.

With regard to Belgium, it was natural that, with all the facilities and resources which it possesses in itself for this species of construction, it should rapidly arrive at a complete system of railways, and, indeed, little now remains to be done in that respect.

The following is a list of the lines now in full operation:-From Brussels to Antwerp, by Mechlin; from Mechlin to Ostend; from Mechlin to Aus; from Landen to St Frond; from Ghent to Courtray; from Brussels to Subise.

Holland, too, has recognised the necessity of following the example of surrounding states, and although it has but one line in a finished state, that from Amsterdam to Haarlem, it is actively engaged in forming a regular and extended system. The lines from Haarlem to Leyden, and from Leyden to the Hague, are already in process of construction, while other lines have been projected, forming a round from the Hague, through Rotterdam and Utrecht to Amsterdam, and their directions traced out. It is also projected to establish a line from Utrecht through Arnhelm to Dusseldorf, there to join the PrussoBelgian line. Four or five years, it is expected, will see this line completed. In Russia, with the exception of one short line from St Petersburg to the Imperial palace at Zarskojeselo, no railways exist; indeed, in a country where the natural facilities for conveyance are so great, the frost, during six months of the year, rendering the land hard and smooth, these modes of communication are not so desirable. It is, however, understood that a project is on foot to establish a line from St Petersburg to Moscow, which is to be undertaken by a society of foreign capitalists. The expenses of such an enterprise have been estimated at 400,000,000 roubles, and England has offered to supply the rails, of which a length of 150 leagues will be required; and although twenty per cent. above the English price has been offered to Russian forgemasters, it is probable that they will not be able to compete with us.

It is not likely that Italy will remain long without railways; in the Lombardo-Venetian states, a short line has been completed between Milan and Monza; and a series of lines will shortly unite Milan and Venice. The construction of a railway of no great length, from Castellamare to Naples, is daily expected to reach its termination; and it is already announced as certain that companies have been formed for the establishment of lines

remains of the Roman walls show that they were of vast extent; but they encompassed large tracts of country, were truly rus in urbe, and included in their circuit Woods and water, and corn-fields, as well as mansions and spacious gardens. And Rome, as is well known, comprised the chief of Italy. Genoa, Milan, Florence, Leg horn, and other noble cities, are of recent foundation, and pertain entirely to modern history. Italy, even in the Augustan age, must have been thinly peopled, and doubtless afforded a free passage enough for those vast herds of swine (one thousand in number) of which Polymigrations by the blowing of horns. The severity of the bius writes, and which were guided in their pastoral climate in the most busy regions of the Old World attests Sea was often frozen, which would be quite a phenomenon the scantiness of population. In Ovid's time, the Black at present. That Italy is warmer now than formerly, we have many testimonies. From various passages of Horace, we may suppose that the streets of Rome were full of snow; and Juvenal refers to a woman breaking the ice of the Tiber to perform her ablution. I never met with a tourist who had seen snow in Rome; and the Tiber is hardly more liable to freeze than the Nile or Ganges. This increase of temperature is satisfactory proof of an increase of people; for numbers tend much to the civi lisation of climates, as of manners and institutions.Wade's Lecture on Ancient and Modern Society.

AN OBJECT WORTHY OF PURSUIT.

There is but one pursuit in life which it is in the power of all to follow and of all to attain. It is subject to no disappointments, since he that perseveres makes every difficulty an advancement, and every contest a victory; and this is the pursuit of virtue. Sincerely to aspire after virtue is to gain her, and zealously to labour after her wages is to receive them. Those that seek her early, will find her before it is late; her reward also is with her, and she will come quickly. For the breast of a good man is a little heaven commencing on earth, where the Deity sits enthroned with unrivalled influence, every subjugated passion, "like the wind and storm, fulfilling his word."-Lacon.

CAPTURING OF CRIMINALS IN AMERICA.

One of the most significant signs of social improvement is the people of one country helping the people of another to put a stop to crime. It now appears that a person absconding from justice in England to America has little chance of escape, the American executive, to its credit, interposing to capture the fugitives. The following are cases in point, which we copy from the Montreal Gazette of the 5th of May last: for obvious reasons, we put the names in blank:-"The New York papers contain the particulars of the arrest of two persons, from England, for fraud and embezzlement, by the New York policeofficers Hays and Stephens. These officers having received notice that a man named J— P——, a clerk in the employ of a tanner near Sittingbourne, England, had embezzled a large sum of money belonging to his employer, and sailed for New York, obtained a boarding boat, and proceeded down to the Narrows, where they awaited the arrival of the ship in which P had taken his passage; and on her making her appearance, they immediately boarded her, and arrested the delinquent, who was a cabin passenger. The other delinquent arrested in the same way was a man named J- T-, a cattledealer in the neighbourhood of Leeds, who had overdrawn his account at the bank of that place, committed forgery, and then taken his passage for New York. Intelligence of these frauds had previously been brought out by the steamers; and in both cases the agents were successful in recovering the greater part of the embezzled property."

JAMES WALLACE:

A TALE FOR BOYS.

[We extract the following tale from an American newspaper, in which it purports to be written by T. 8. Arthur. The reprehensible practice of American newspaper editors of transferring

literary articles without acknowledging the source whence they

are derived, renders it impossible for us to say whether the tale is

original or selected from a previous publication.] "How far is it from here to the sun, Jim?" asked Harman Lee of his father's apprentice, James Wallace, in a tone of light raillery, intending by the question to elicit some reply that would exhibit the boy's ignorance. James Wallace, a boy of fourteen, turned his bright intelligent eyes upon the son of his master, and, after regarding him for a moment, he replied, "I don't know, Harman. How far is it ?"

There was something so honest and earnest in the tone of the boy, that much as Harman had felt disposed at first to sport with his ignorance, he could not refrain from giving him a true answer. Still, his contempt for the ignorant apprentice was not to be concealed, and he replied, "Ninety-five millions of miles, you ignoramus!" James did not retort, but repeating over in his mind the distance named, fixed it indelibly upon his memory.

On the same evening, after he had finished his day's work, he obtained a small text-book on astronomy, which belonged to Harman Lee, and went up into his garret with a candle, and there, alone, attempted to dive into the mysteries of that sublime science. As he read, the earnestness of his attention fixed nearly every fact upon his mind. So intent was he, that he perceived not the passage of time, and was only called back to a consciousness of where he was by the sudden sinking of the wick of his candle into the melted mass of tallow that had filled the cup of his candlestick. In another moment he was in total darkness. The cry of the watchman had told him that the hours had flown, until it was past ten o'clock.

Slowly undressing himself in his dark chamber, his mind recurring with a strong interest to what he had been reading, he lay down upon his hard bed, and gave full play to his thoughts. Hour after hour passed away, but he could not sleep, so absorbed was he in reviewing the new and wonderful things he had read. At last wearied nature gave way, and he fell into a slumber, filled with dreams of planets, moons, comets, and fixed

stars.

On the next morning, the apprentice boy resumed his place at the work-bench with a new feeling; and with this feeling was mingled one of regret, that he could not go to school as did his master's son.

"But I can study at night while he is asleep," he said to himself.

Just then Harman Lee came into the shop, and approaching James, said, for the purpose of teasing him, "How big round is the earth, Jim ?"

"Twenty-five thousand miles," was the unhesitating

answer.

Harman looked surprised for a moment, and then responded, with a sneer---for he was not a kind-hearted boy, but, on the contrary, very selfish, and disposed to injure rather than do good to others---"Oh, dear! How wonderful wise you are! And no doubt you can tell how many moons Jupiter has? Come, let's hear." "Jupiter has four moons," James answered, with something of exultation in his tone.

"And no doubt you can tell how many rings it has ?" "Jupiter has no rings. Saturn has rings, and Jupiter belts," James replied, in a decisive tone.

For a moment or two Harman was silent with surprise and mortification, to think that his father's apprentice, whom he esteemed so far below him, should be possessed of knowledge equal to his, and on the points in reference to which he had chosen to question him; and that he should be able to convict him of an error into which he had purposely fallen. "I should like to know how long it is since you became so wonderful wise," Harman at length said, with a sneer.

"Not very long," James replied, calmly. "I have been reading one of your books on astronomy." "Well, you're not going to have my books, mister, I can tell you! Anyhow, I should like to know what business you have to touch one of them! Let me catch you at it again, and see if I don't cuff you soundly. You'd better, a great deal, be minding your work."

"But I didn't neglect my work, Harman; I read at night after I was done with my work; and I didn't hurt your book."

"I don't care if you didn't hurt it. You're not going to have my books, I can tell you. So do you just let them alone."

Poor James's heart sank in his bosom at this unexpected obstacle so suddenly thrown in his way. He had no money of his own to buy, and knew of no one from whom he could borrow the book that had all at once become necessary to his happiness. "Do, Harman," he said, appealingly," lend me the book; I will take good care of it."

"No, I won't. And don't you dare to touch it," was the angry reply.

James Wallace knew well enough the selfish disposition of his master's son, older than he two or three

years, to be convinced that there was now but little hope of his having the use of his books, except by stealth; and from that his natural open and honest principles revolted. All day he thought earnestly over the means whereby he should be able to obtain a book on astronomy, to quench the ardent thirst that he had created in his mind. And night came without any satisfactory answer being obtained to his earnest inquiries of his own thoughts.

He was learning the trade of a blind-maker. Having been already an apprentice for two years, and being industrious and intelligent, he had acquired a readiness with tools and much skill in some parts of his trade. While sitting alone after he had finished his work for the day, his mind searching about for some means whereby he

could get books, it occurred to him that he might, by working in the evening, earn some money, and with it buy such as he wanted. But in what manner to obtain work he knew not. It finally occurred to him, that, in passing a house near the shop, he frequently observed a pair of window-blinds with faded hangings and soiled colours. "Perhaps," said he to himself," if I could do it cheap, they would let me paint and put new hangings to

their blinds."

The thought was scarcely suggested when he was on his feet moving towards the street. In a few minutes he stood knocking at the door of the house, which was soon opened. "Well, my little man, what do you want?" was the kind salutation of the individual who answered the call. James felt confused, and stammered out, "The hangings of your blinds are a good deal faded." "That's a very true remark, my little man," was the reply, made in an encouraging tone.

"And they very much want painting." "Also very true," said the man, with a good-humoured smile, for he felt amused with the boy's earnest manner and novelty of speech. "Wouldn't you like to have them painted and new hangings put to them?" pursued James. "I don't know. It would certainly improve them much."

"Oh yes, sir, they would look just like new. And if you will let me do them, I will fix them up nice for you, cheap."

Will you, indeed? But what is your name, and where do you live ?"

66

My name is James Wallace, and I live with Mr Lee, the blind-maker."

"Do you, indeed? Well, how much will you charge for painting them and putting on new hangings?" "I will do it for two dollars, sir. The hangings and tassels will cost me three-quarters of a dollar, and the paint and varnish a quarter more. And it will take two or three evenings, besides getting up very early in the morning to work for Mr Lee, so that I may paint and varnish them when the sun shines."

"But will Mr Lee let you do this ?" "I don't know, sir; but I will ask him." "Very well, my little man. If Mr Lee does not object, I am willing."

James ran back to the house, and found Mr Lee standing in the door. Much to his delight, his request was granted. Four days from that he possessed a book of his own, and had half a dollar with which to buy some other volume, when he should have thoroughly mastered the contents of that. Every night found him poring over this book; and as soon as it was light enough in the morning to see, he was up and reading.

Of course there was much in it that he could not understand, and many terms the meaning of which was hidden from him. To help him in this difficulty, he purchased with his remaining half dollar, at a second-hand book stall, a dictionary. By the aid of this he acquired the information he sought much more rapidly. But the more he read, the broader the unexplored expanse of knowledge appeared to open before him. He did not, however, give way to feelings of discouragement, but steadily devoted every evening, and an hour every morning, to study; while all the day his mind was pondering over the things he had read, as his hands were diligently employed in the labour assigned him.

It occurred, just at this time, that a number of benevolent individuals established, in the town where James lived, one of those excellent institutions, an Apprentices' Library. To this he at once applied, and obtained the books he needed. And thus-none dreaming of his devotion to the acquirement of knowledge-did the poor apprentice boy lay the foundation of future eminence and usefulness. We cannot trace his course, step by step, through a long series of seven years, though it would afford many lessons of perseverance and triumph over almost insurmountable difficulties. But at twenty-one he was master of his trade; and what was more, had laid up a vast amount of general and scientific information: he was well read in history; had studied thoroughly the science of astronomy, for which he ever retained a lively affection; was familiar with mathematical principles, and could readily solve the most difficult geometrical and algebraic problems; his geographical knowledge was minute; and to this he added tolerably correct information in regard to the manners and customs of different nations. To natural history he had also given much attention. But with all his varied acquirements, James Wallace felt, on attaining the age of manhood, that he knew comparatively but little.

age, when he graduated, and came home with the honorary title of A.B. At this time James Wallace was between seventeen and eighteen years of age, somewhat rough in his appearance, but with a sound mind in a sound body-although each day he regularly toiled at the work-bench, and as regularly returned to his books when evening released him from labour, and was up at the peep of dawn, to lay the first offerings of his mind upon the shrine of learning. But all this devotion to the acquirement of knowledge won for him no sympathy, no honourable estimation from his master's son. He despised these patient persevering efforts as much as he despised his condition as an apprentice to a trade. But it was not many years before others began to perceive the contrast between them, although, on the very day that James completed his term of apprenticeship, Harman was admitted to the bar.

The one completed his education-as far as general knowledge and a rigid discipline of the mind was concerned-when he left college. The other became more really the student when the broader and brighter light of rationality shone clearly on his pathway, as he passed the threshold of manhood. James still continued to work at his trade, but not for so many hours each day as while he was an apprentice. He was a good and fast workman, and could readily earn all that he required for his support in six or eight hours of every twenty-four. Eight hours were regularly devoted to study. From some cause, he determined he would make law his profession. To the acquirement of a knowledge of legal matters, therefore, he bent all the energies of a well-disciplined, active, and comprehensive mind. Two years passed away in an untiring devotion to the studies he had assigned himself, and he then made application for admission to the bar.

[Young Wallace passed his examinations with some applause, and the first case on which he was employed chanced to be one of great difficulty, which required all his skill; the lawyer on the opposite side was Harman Lee, who entertained for his father's old apprentice the most profound contempt.]

The cause came on within a week, for all parties interested in the result were anxious for it to come to trial, and therefore no legal obstacles were thrown in the way.

There was a profound silence and a marked attention and interest when the young stranger arose in the courtroom to open the case. A smile of contempt, as he did so, curled the lip of Harman Lee, but Wallace saw it not. The prominent points of the case were presented in plain but concise language to the court; and a few remarks bearing upon the merits being made, the young lawyer took his seat, and gave room for the defence.

Instantly Harman Lee was on his feet, and began referring to the points presented by his "very learned brother," in a flippant, contemptuous manner. There were those present who marked the light that kindled in the eye of Wallace, and the flash that passed over his countenance, at the first contemptuous word and tone that were uttered by his antagonist at the bar. These soon gave place to attention, and an air of conscious power. Once on his feet, with so flimsy a position to tear into tatters as that which his "learned brother" had presented, Lee seemed never to grow tired of the tearing process. Nearly an hour had passed away when he resumed his seat with a look of exultation, which was followed by a pitying and contemptuous smile as Wallace again slowly arose.

Ten minutes, however, had not passed when that smile had changed to a look of surprise, mortification, and alarm, all blended into a single expression. The young lawyer's maiden speech showed him to be a man of calm, deep, systematic thought-well skilled in points of law and in authorities; and, more than all, a lawyer of practical and comprehensive views. When he sat down, no important point in the case had been left untouched, and none that had been touched required further elucidation.

Lee followed briefly, in a vain attempt to torture his language and break down his positions. But he felt that he was contending with weapons whose edges were turned at every blow. When he took his seat again, Wallace merely remarked, that he was prepared, without further argument, to submit the case to the court. The case was accordingly submitted, and a decision unhesitatingly made in favour of the plaintiffs, or Wallace's clients.

From that hour James Wallace took his true position. The despised apprentice became the able and profound lawyer, and was esteemed for real talent and real moral worth, which, when combined, ever place their possessor in his true position.

Ten years from that day Wallace was elevated to the bench, while Lee, a second-rate lawyer, never rose above that position.

Let us now turn, for a few moments, to mark the progress of the young student in one of the best seminaries in his native city, and afterwards at college. Like In the histories of these two persons is seen the diffetoo many tradesmen whose honest industry and steady rence between simply receiving an education, as it is perseverance have gained them a competence, Mr Lee called, and being self-educated. This fact every student, felt indisposed to give his son a trade, or to subject him and every humble apprentice with limited advantages, to the same restraints and discipline in youth to which should bear in mind. It should infuse new life into the he had been subjected. He felt ambitious for him, and studies of one, and inspire the other with a determination determined to educate him for one of the learned profes- to imbue his mind with knowledge. The education that sions. To this end he sent him to school early, and pro-him a learned man. He only acquires there the rudiments a boy receives at colleges and seminaries does not make vided for him the best instruction. of knowledge. Beyond these he must go. He must conthe apprentice of the handicraftsman, for instance, whose tinue ever after, a student, or others will leave him in the rear others of humbler means and fewer opportunities; few hours of devotion to study, from a genuine love of learning, have given him a taste and a habit that remain

The idea that he was to be a lawyer or a doctor soon him to feel contempt for other boys who were merely took possession of the mind of Harman, and this caused designed for trades or store-keeping.

Like too many others, he had no love for learning, nor any right appreciation of its legitimate uses. To be a lawyer he thought would be much more honourable than to be a mere mechanic; and for this reason alone, as far as he had any thoughts on the subject, did he desire to be a lawyer. As for James Wallace, he, as the poor illiterate apprentice of his father, was most heartily despised, and never treated by Harman with the smallest degree of kind consideration.

At the age of eighteen, he was sent away to one of the eastern universities, and there remained-except during the semi-annual vacations—until he was twenty years of

with him in all after time.

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

Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars. Complete sets of the Journal are always to be had from the publishers or their agents; also, any odd numbers to complete sets. Persons requiring their volumes bound along with titlepages and contents, have only to give them into the hands of any bookseller, with orders to that effect.

DINBURGA

JOURNA

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

"CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

NUMBER 560.

HANDLES.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1842.

had a strange, rough, contradictory way of speaking,
especially to his wife Bet, who could not make the
simplest remark, or set forth the most unpretending
proposition, but he was sure to treat it as wrong and fri-
volous. Bet was obliged to act accordingly, whenever
she wished to carry any particular point. Their son,
a boy of thirteen, who assisted his father, wished to go
to Thornhill fair, and to have money in his pocket
when he went. He disclosed his wishes to his mother,
who undertook to bring the matter about. That
evening, the following conversation, which I beg leave
to relate in the original Doric, took place between
David and Bet :-

PRICE 14d.

vent and free way. To expose anything to its force, by way of diminishing it, is as imprudent as it would be to go and put up a fire-screen against an igniting barrel of gunpowder. The only safety is in getting away from the Presence as quickly as possible. Passionate people, when thus treated, generally become reasonable and penitent in a short time, and are even willing to make some amends for their violence. Unless, then, they should be like Fletcher of Salton, whose anger was no sooner off than it was on again, it is possible to manage violent people to some purpose. There is a story told of a country gentleman who was liable to fall into transports of rage with his "Gudeman, ye'll no guess what that fulish laddie, servants, in the course of which he seldom failed to our Robbie, has ta'en into his head ?" "'Deed, gudewife, I canna tell what either he or better genius resumed its sway, there was always an you would think o', ye're baith sic fules."

"Na, but, gudeman, ye ken the morn's the fair day, and nought will serve him but he wad hae me to speak to you about letting him gang to the merket, and him only a laddie o' thirteen; it's clean out o' the question. What wad a laddie like him do there?-and lose a day's wages into the bargain?”

"What's that ye say, Bet? What for no? The laddie's a bit weel-doing callan', an' works primely; an' he shall gae to the merket, 'at he shall, in spite o' your teeth. Yes shall he !"

"Aweel, aweel, David, just as ye like, ye're the best judge, nae doubt; but ae thing leads aye to anither. The laddie speaks the greatest nonsense about siller to keep his pouch in the merket; he even ventured to name a gude white shilling in my hearing; but, I trow, I soon settled that wi' the airn tangs, an' I hae na seen him sin-syne, like."

THERE is a class of persons usually described by the
silken tongue of polite society as persons of peculiar
temper, or simply as "peculiar," but who are some-
times confidentially alluded to under much more
alarming designations. The peculiarity generally con-
sists in such qualities as fretfulness, crossness, quarrel-
someness, contradictiveness, cankeredness, and so forth,
or in that summary of conditions which one describes
when he says of a fellow-creature, "There is no pleas-
ing him." The existence of such a person in a little
circle-for example, one of a sisterhood of old maiden
ladies obliged for economy to live together-is an evil
of a very grave character, as it never fails to make a
large subtraction from the comfort of all the rest. To
keep that person tolerably sweet, or to avoid at least
giving occasion to outbreaks of the "peculiarity,"
often becomes the leading business of the associated
persons; and, at the best, there is amongst them a
want of that serenity and ease of mind, which form
so important a requisite in life, and without which,
indeed, life is scarcely worth having. A terrible class,
in truth, are these "peculiar" people, notwithstanding
that, as Sir Walter Scott said of bores, there is gene-
rally something respectable about them-the terma-
gant sister, for instance, being almost sure to be the
best house-keeper. It becomes, of course, a serious
consideration, whether there be any beneficent ar-
rangement of Providence designed to alleviate to
mankind the woes arising from these peculiar people.
I am of opinion that there is. It has often struck
me that peculiar people are nearly the most manage-
able of all creatures, when once the moving spring of
their predominant feelings is detected. Creative wis-
dom has furnished each of them with what vulgar
parlance terms a HANDLE-a certain something in
their character, which it is only necessary to manage
rightly in order to avoid all that is bad about them,
at the same time that we perhaps obtain the benefit
of all that is good. Almost any peculiar person
may be made tolerable for the common intercourse
of life, if one only finds out his handle, and can
use it adroitly. Sometimes the handle is curiously
hidden in the mesh of character, so as not to be very
easily got hold of; but when once discovered, its
management is generally not very difficult. The pa-
tient may be as immoveable as was the wooden horse
mounted by one of the three calenders in Arabian
story; but turn one little peg-the handle !—and he
springs up into the air with you in a moment. It is
very favourable to the management of peculiar people,
that they are usually so blind as to be in no great
likelihood of discovering when any one is touching
their handle, or even that they have a handle at all.
Did they suspect such a thing, a pretty storm we
should have of it. But the fact is, of themselves they
never suspect any such thing, and no third party ever
gives them a hint of it-for it is just one of the mis-
fortunes of people of difficult tempers, that they are
the objects of an universal conspiracy. Thus, if the
operator does not expose himself by extremely clumsy
play, or by voluntarily betraying the secret, all is safe.
There is a well-known story of an Irish pig which
had a handle. Its owner, taking it to Cork, and
knowing its refractory disposition, told it that he
wished it to go to Dublin, when, as he expected, it
immediately took the course which he desired. This
story is conformable, if not to porcine, at least to
human nature, as the following true anecdote will For every different species of difficult people, a pe-
prove. David Dobie was a dyker, or builder of dry- culiar mode of management is required. A violent
stone enclosures, near Thornhill in Dumfriesshire. He man, for instance, requires submission. When he
was a passable sort of rustic in most respects, but i comes to the explosion, the great art is to allow it

"What's that ye're saying, Bet? Did ye meddle wi' the weel-doing laddie, wha bigs stane for stane wi' me a' day, an' aye does my bidding in spite o' a' your havers! A shilling, Bet! I tell ye, woman-an' what I say's a law in this house-I tell ye, woman, he shall not only hae a shilling, but half a crown, 'at he shall. Sae shall he, e'en in spite o' you, and your airn tangs into the bargain!"

"Aweel, aweel, gudeman. Ye maun just hae your ain way o't; but ye'll see what it'll a' come to. Ye're just spoiling the laddie wi' indulgence," &c.

inflict a cuffing or caning upon them. When his

assythment for the injuries he had inflicted, generally in the form of some extra indulgence or present, so that in time it became rather a subject of rejoicing among the servants when their master fell foul of them. The great art was to make no resistance or complaint, but to leave it all to the worthy gentleman's own conscience. It is easy to see how this policy might be adapted to parlour life. We can imagine a lady anxious for a new drosky, of which her husband would prudently postpone the purchase, saying to herself"Well, I am sure of it the next time George falls into a passion." Eager for a particular splendid shawl, which George thought too dear, she might bethink herself—" If he would only take one of his frantic fits, I should be sure of it." A wife of any ingenuity might in a great measure dress herself off her husband's hurricanes. But to secure such results, an absolute submission is necessary. The penitent feeling must have no consolation for itself in any recollection of an angry reply. If it have, it fixes equal guilt upon the other party, and no reparation seems necessary. Yet the submission must be well managed. Great pains must be taken to avoid the appearance of a policy in the matter. When several persons are concerned, there must be no symptom of a forethought, arrangement, or conspiracy amongst them. All must be natural and appropriate to the occasion. Then, but then only, may the proper solatium be expected.

The persons usually called impracticable are a large section of the class. These are usually individuals of a self-willed character, full of rooted prejudices, high in their own conceit, and strongly of opinion that all the rest of mankind are fools. Therefore, they never coalesce with other people in any common object. They never agree with any body on any question. Unless an idea has arisen in their own minds, and they believe (which, however, they are apt to do) that nobody else ever had it before or now entertains it, it is no idea for them. Such a

In this way, honest David could be made to do any thing his wife pleased, all the time that he thought himself the most incontrollable of domestic despots. A similar expedient was resorted to about fifty years ago with a nobleman who owned a park of celebrated beauty skirting the sea-coast near one of our large towns. There was a pathway through his grounds, by which his predecessors had allowed the people of a neighbouring village to pass on their journeys to and from the town. Stingy and unsocial, he determined to put an end to the privilege, although it did not interfere with the privacy of his family; and, accord-person never belongs to any political party. He is a ingly, whenever he met any one going through the park, he turned him back. The villagers at length came to know how to manage the old earl; so, when walking through the park, if they saw him at a distance, they immediately turned and seemed to be going the contrary way. When he came up, he of course put them right about, and thus sent them on the way they wished to go. By this simple device, both parties were equally pleased-the villagers in escaping a circumbendibus of several miles, and the earl in the accomplishment of his resolution to turn back all who entered his grounds.

party of himself. Truly was it said of John Lilburn, a remarkable specimen of the class, that if he alone were left in the world, Lilburn would not agree with John, nor would John with Lilburn. "What is to be done with an impracticable man? Surely he has no handle!" Has he not, indeed? Why, there is no kind of person that has a more conspicuous handle. That very self-concentratedness which makes him an impracticable man, supplies the handle by which he is to be managed. To make such a man tolerable, his fellow-creatures generally find it necessary to study to convert everything to his own glory, and to support him in the notion that he is the centre and mainspring of everything. No one must ever pretend to have an opinion as to how anything could be best done in his presence. No one must ever recommend to

him any course of action. But even his children know that he may nevertheless be made to do anything, or take a particular view of any question, if only the idea be made to appear as proceeding from or somehow originating in himself. The gratification thus given to his predominant feeling awakens benevolence, and he becomes as pliable as could be wished. Some do not scruple to apply direct flattery, for the purpose of softening down impracticability, and it is of course generally successful, for where there is so high an inherent opinion of self, it only looks natural that the opinion of others should be high also. And thus the gods have sometimes presented to them the most Iudicrous of all spectacles-an obstinate, self-willed man, thinking himself a ruler and lawgiver amongst his fellow-creatures, strutting, chin-elated, genial to others only through the gratification of his own selfish feelings, all the time that two or three persons whom he thinks insignificant are deliberately playing upon him, and secretly enjoying the intense ridiculousness to which they are subjecting him.

of building a strong wall was as follows. After bring-
ing the work to the surface, they had recourse to
planks made to fit into each other, successively ex-
tending them in length and in height, and binding the
opposite ones at such a distance from each other, as to
form the thickness of the wall, and, withal, with suffi-
cient strength not to deviate ever so little from the
perpendicular on either side. It was thus that they
formed, as it were in a mould, these enormously massy
walls, composed, as we have already seen, of every
species of pebbles, and other small stones, which our
modern architects know not what to do with for want
of a mortar qualified to constitute with them one solid
compact body.

The result of this addition of the quick-lime, sur prising as at first sight it may seem, is notwithstanding so easily explained and accounted for, that it seems somewhat strange that M. Loriot should be the first to suspect and discover it. In fact, what can be plainer, than that the sudden setting and consolidating of these two substances, when thus united, must necessarily arise from the quick-lime being carried, by a perfect amalgamation or admixture, into the utmost recesses of the slaked lime, saturating itself with the moisture it there meets with, and thereby effecting that instantaneous and absolute desiccation, which, because we are so well accustomed to it, we so little mind in the use of gypses and plasters.

We may easily conceive at what a great rate even But the most valuable of all the extraordinary quaa small number of hands, if well supplied with mate-lities in this composition is its not being liable to any rials, must have been able by this means to push cracks or flaws, when the ingredients are in the exact on any building work. For this purpose, nothing proportion they ought to be, or to give way, in any more was requisite than to have in readiness a suffi- sense, either by shrinking or swelling, or, in short, cient number of troughs full of the proper mortar ever undergo the least alteration from that state in -throw in, at random, the pebbles and other small which its fixing left it-a phenomenon we may The handles of peculiar people are the most liable stones-and then saturate the latter with the former account for on the same principles with the foregoing. to remark; but the fact is, there is more or less of a-all which might be perfectly well done, by the Whereas mortar, or common cement, never dries but handle attached to all persons, good, bad, and indiffe- smallest degree of attention to get as much stones as by the evaporation of its moisture, M. Loriot's cement rent. The predominant feeling, taste, or prejudice, possible into the cassoon, and then make the mortar becomes perfectly solid without the least evaporation; usually presents the handle by which individuals of fill up all the interstices between them; and with its moisture continues in and makes part of it; the all kinds are to be managed. It is a large part of the regard to vaulting and arching, they had their centres desiccation is altogether intestine; and as the mass business of Tact in society, to discover this leading as well as the moderns. When they had an aqueduct continues the same, and, moreover, the component tendency, and to appeal to it. A thorough courtier to build, then, as the interior surfaces of its channel parts of it are brought so near each other, it is imposlooks for the handle of the epicure in the region of required a coating of that peculiar cement, which is sible any cracks or flaws should ensue; for cracks and the stomach in the amateur, author, draughtsman, still observable in them to a certain thickness, and flaws can arise from nothing but the evaporation of a and musician, he knows that it lies in the praise of which we have already taken notice of, they began by superfluous moisture, and the approach to each other his productions and performances: with the invidious, laying it on the planks of the interior casing and the of those parts which that moisture had till then kept he takes care to express dislike of, and detraction centres, previous to the throwing in of the coarser asunder. M. Loriot had likewise the satisfaction to from, a sufficiency of estimable people with the materials; and thus formed a crust which effectually see that his composition was endued with the surprisbigot, he is loud in condemning opposite systems. kept the water from any stones of a spongy nature ing quality of being and continuing impenetrable to With a lady, to admire her clergyman or her chil- that would otherwise have imbibed it. Without this water. For this purpose he made new trials; he dren, and be sceptical about the complexion of the method of casing, they would never have been able to formed with his cement some vessels of a form proper lady who lives opposite, is a pretty sure card. Be it construct either walls of so prodigious a thickness or to hold water, weighed them, filled them, and after remarked that, in all human beings, whatever other channels of so surprising a thinness. In a word, the the water had stood in them a considerable time, handles there may be, there is sure to be one in that effect of this cement must have been very quick, to emptied them, when, on weighing them a second time, part of the cerebral system where lie the organs of coalesce and set as readily as our gypses and plasters, he could not find that they weighed either more or self-esteem and love of approbation. Offend these and directly resist the pressure of the other materials less than before he filled them. faculties, however slightly, and the favour of that laid upon it. In fact, the least shrinking or swelling person is utterly lost soothe them, however slightly, must have proved fatal to works of this kind, not one and it is retained and increased. Half the bad blood of whose parts, perhaps, yielded a solid and horizontal which exists in the world is produced by trivial basis to any other. offences to these feelings. It is consonant with the strictest morals, at least to be cautious against giving unnecessary offence to these feelings; nor would a benevolent code condemn a little effort being made now and then to gratify them, since the gratification tends to sweeten men so much towards each other.

As to the genuine men of handles, the peculiar people, the difficult and impracticable men, of course it is impossible to commend the practice of seeking such means of managing them. A bold honesty rather dictates that we should go the straight way to work, although with little hope of a successful result. But men are only men, and it will probably continue till the end of the world to be more or less the penalty imposed on a troublesome and disagreeable temper, that it shall expose its owner to be a standing subject of petty deception to his fellow-creatures. If any one who can make himself conscious of being so characterised, dislikes the penalty, let him endeavour to remedy the fault.

ANCIENT CEMENTS.* NOTWITHSTANDING the great degree of perfection to which the useful arts have attained within these few centuries, it cannot be denied that there are some

class of labourers.

This fixedness and perseverance within the same volume constitute another important quality, which the slenderest observation must convince us the Roman cement is endued with; and being the last as yet discovered, we may proceed to sum up all the excellencies peculiar to this extraordinary composition. In the first place, then, this cement, from a liquid, turned very quickly to a solid state, and hardened with time as plaster does. Secondly, it acquired a surprising degree of tenacity, and laid such hold of the smallest stones it came in contact with, as scarce to bear being parted from them. Thirdly, it was impenetrable to water. Fourthly, it continued always of the same volume or bulk, without either swelling or shrinking. One would imagine, that so many extraordinary qualities should have secured this composition from the effects of violence and time, and kept the secret of it alive to the latest posterity. Yet, it may safely be affirmed, that this valuable secret has been lost, to all intents and purposes; and that, notwithstanding the continued and hearty sighs and researches of all Europe, nothing like it till now has been discovered by the moderns. For if in some parts the buildings are more solid than others, it is merely owing to the extraordinary goodness of the lime, sand, and other materials employed in them.

things in which we were excelled by the ancients, and its properties, became a subject of deep attention to
The re-discovery of this cement, so marvellous in
in none more so than the art of building. The mo-
derns are adepts in the process of cutting, fashioning, of France. This gentleman, in the course of the in-
Monsieur Loriot, Master of Mechanics to the King
and laying blocks of stone one above another; and inquiries carried on by him in the year 1770, had the
these respects, therefore, there is nothing to complain satisfaction to discover a kind of mystery in nature,
of. The point upon which they are deficient is giving which threw light on the subject under his considera-
their buildings an imperishable degree of strength by tion. "Taking some lime, which had been a long
ineans of proper cements or mortar. In modern house-time slaked, out of a pit covered with boards, and a
building, the making of mortar appears always to be considerable quantity of earth over them again, by
a second-rate consideration, being, as we believe, which means the lime had preserved all its original
usually committed to the hands of the least instructed freshness, he made two parts of it, and plashed and
these parts, without any addition, into a glazed earthen
beat them both perfectly well. He then put one of
pot, and in that condition set it to dry of itself in the
shade. Here, in proportion as it lost its moisture by
evaporation, it cracked and split in every direction,
parted from the sides of the pot, and crumbled into a
thousand pieces, all of them equally friable with the
bits of lime dried up by the sun, which we usually
the other part, M. Loriot just added to it one-third of
meet on the banks of our lime pits. With regard to
its quantity of powdered quick-lime, and then had the
whole well kneaded, in order to make the two kinds
of lime perfectly incorporate with each other. This
done, he put this mixture, likewise, into a glazed
earthen pot, as he had done the first; when, behold,
it soon began to heat, and in the space of a few
of the best plaster when prepared in the best manner.
minutes acquired a degree of consistence equal to that
In short, it set and consolidated almost as readily as
metals in fusion when taken from the fire, and turned
completely within a very small space of time, and that,
out a kind of instantaneous lapidification, having dried
too, without the least crack or flaw. Nay, it adhered
so strongly to the sides of the pot, as not to be parted
from them without breaking it.

The Romans-following, as may be presumed, the practice of the Greeks, with some improvements of their own-were particularly careful in the making of their mortar, which they applied in a very peculiar manner. On examination, some of their most stupen dous architectural structures are found to exhibit enormous masses of masonry, consisting of pebbles and other small stones, apparently thrown together at random, and bound by a kind of mortar which has been thin enough to penetrate the smallest interstices, and thus form a solid whole throughout. The strength of this mortar, after a lapse of two thousand years, is surprising. It is harder than the stones among which it has been found, and bids defiance equally to the erosions of time and the heaviest blows of the hammer. Another of the extraordinary qualities of this cement consists in its impenetrability to water. The aqueducts of the Romans prove this most satisfactorily, being coated with no resinous substance whatever, but merely with this same cement, made a little thinner on the inside than on the outside. The Roman mode * We gather the materials of this article from a paper in the

Annual Register for the year 1774, itself founded on an essay by
Monsieur Loriot, Master of Mechanics to the King of France.

After several repetitions of these trials, and always with the same success, it now only remained to find out what effects, if any, time, or rather the vicissitudes of the weather, might have on this mixture of the two kinds of lime, as well as on several other compositions, in which M. Loriot had made it up, with other materials, fit for mortar; but, after making for this purpose a great number of new experiments, all the conclusion he could draw from them was, that not only the original mixture of the two kinds of lime, but every other to which he added it, instead of giving way to the greatest dryness or moisture, heat or cold, in the air, increased with age in solidity and compactness."

The mixing, then, of powdered quick-lime with any kind of mortar or cement made with slaked lime, was the operation which M. Loriot conceived to be necessary for the production of a building-cement such as the Romans used, and possessing all the advantages which architects could desire. It is of course not to be expected from us that we should positively assert the practical utility of M. Loriot's discovery. From his account, however, the cement referred to appears to possess the following qualities. The close union formed by the two kinds of lime employed, enables them also to seize and consolidate all small bodies that may be mixed with them. Sand and brick-dust are the bodies most suitable for this purpose. In forming a cement, therefore, M. Loriot desires builders to take "any quantity of very fine brick-dust, and twice as much fine river sand, the former well sifted, and the latter well screened, with a sufficient quantity of old slaked lime to form, with water, an amalgam as usual, lime equal to one-fourth of the brick-dust and sand but withal wet enough to slake a quantity of quicktaken together; then add the quick-lime in powder to the brick-dust and sand; incorporate them well, without loss of time, and use them directly, as the least delay may render the use of them defective or imposand sides of a canal basin, or any other kind of buildsible. A coating of this mixture applied to the bottom ing which is to contain or stand over water, has the most extraordinary effects, though laid on ever so thin. this cement, were such buildings to be originally conWhat wonders, therefore, might we not expect from structed with it.

the same materials, in a quantity equal to that of the
The dust of charcoal incorporates very kindly with
quick-lime; and though the lead colour, which arises
from this addition, makes no essential part of the
mixture, it may still have its uses on certain occasions.
tained in the charcoal; since this substance cannot
But it is otherwise with regard to the bitumen con-
but form a rampart extraordinary against the water,
with which it is made up.
no way inferior to that afforded by the other materials

to the common mortar, consisting of slaked lime and
If all we want is a strong coating, then, by adding
sand, one-fourth its quantity of quick-lime, we shall
quires a greater degree of consistence than the com-
have one which, within four-and-twenty hours, ac-
lime, one of sifted plaster, and a fourth of quick-lime,
mon kind in several months. Two parts of air-slaked
mon mortar, afford a coating no less fit for the inside
made up into an amalgam of the consistence of com-
of buildings than tenacious and incapable of cracking
or flawing."

Dry freestone, or other stones, pounded and sifted,

are also pointed out by M. Loriot as likely to be useful ingredients in such cements, and he advises small quantities of these to be made at a time when they are to be used. The directions of M. Loriot are so pointed that they may be given here, even at the risk of repeating part of what has been said. There are two ways of making the cement. "The first is, to mix up very well, with water and slaked lime, the sand, brick-dust, or other materials you choose to employ for the purpose, to the consistence already prescribed, that is, somewhat thinner than usual; then sprinkle into the mixture your powdered quick-lime; and, lastly, incorporate the whole well together to be used directly. The second way is to mix up the sand, brick-dust, and powdered quick-lime by themselves in the proportion prescribed; then adding to them, just as fast as you want your cement, the proper quantity of slaked lime and water, work the whole up well with the trowel. In this way, the sand, brick-dust, and powdered quick-lime, may be kept ready made up in sacks, large enough to fill one or two troughs, so as scarce to leave the workmen any room to fail in the operation, let them be ever so ignorant or careless about it."

The permanency and stability given to buildings by this cement were proved in France by many trials; and if the facts be as stated, the attention of architects may yet be most usefully directed to this subject. In the case of vaults, arches, aqueducts, canal basins, and other structures peculiarly exposed to water and weather, the cement of M. Loriot appears to have proved most effective. "Every kind of subterraneous construction, whether civil or military, may, by means of this cement, be rendered not only habitable, but even infinitely more healthy than they generally are, and that, too, though surrounded by water; so that our cellars, especially those under court-yards, and other open places, as likewise our necessaries-all now so subject, the former to be deluged on every rising of the neighbouring rivers, &c., the latter to convey infection to a great distance by their contents oozing through the adjacent earth-all these works, I say, may be easily cured by means of this cement, equally proper to keep water in or out. In short, what is it we may not make of, or with the assistance of, this proteus matter, and that at one cast! Watering-troughs, ponds for stable and poultry yards, reservoirs against fire, wholesome cisterns in fortified and other places, where no running or well water is to be had."

The cement described may be also effectively cast, according to the accounts given, into pilasters and the like for the support of buildings. There are few architectural purposes, indeed, to which a little ingenuity may not apply it. The end which it seemingly answers is one of the most important kind. The stability and durability of our habitations and public erections are matters which cannot be overrated; and a comparison of old with modern buildings in these particulars throws a reproach on the increased resources of our times, which it would be well to wipe away.

POPULAR ENGLISH FESTIVALS. MICHAELMAS DAY

dinner.

MICHAELMAS DAY, the 29th of September, properly named the day of St Michael and All Angels, is a great festival of the Church of Rome, and also observed as a feast by the Church of England. In England, it is one of the four quarterly terms, or quarterdays, on which rents are paid, and in that and other divisions of the United Kingdom, as well as perhaps in other countries, it is the day on which burgal magistracies and councils are re-elected. The only other remarkable thing connected with the day is a widely prevalent custom of marking it with a goose at Michael is regarded in the Christian world as the chief of angels, or archangel. His history is obscure. In Scripture he is mentioned five times, and always in a warlike character; namely, thrice by Daniel as fighting for the Jewish church against Persia; once by St Jude as fighting with the devil about the body of Moses; and once by St John as fighting at the head of his angelic troops against the dragon and his host. Probably on the hint thus given by St John, the Romish church taught at an early period that Michael was employed, in command of the loyal angels of God, to overthrow and consign to the pit of perdition Lucifer and his rebellious associates-a legend which was at length embalmed in the sublimest poetry by Milton. Sometimes Michael is represented as the sole archangel, sometimes as only the head of a fraternity of archangels, which includes likewise Gabriel, Raphael, and some others. He is usually represented in coat armour, with a glory round his head, and a dart in his hand, trampling on the fallen Lucifer. He has even been furnished, like the human warriors of the middle ages, with a heraldic ensign, namely, a banner hanging from a cross. We obtain a curious idea of the religious notions of those ages, when we learn that the red velvet-covered buckler worn by Michael in his war with Lucifer used to be shown in a church in Normandy down to 1607, when the bishop of Avranches at length forbade its being any longer exhi

bited.

Angels are held by the Church of Ronce as capable of interceding for men; wherefore it is that prayers are addressed to them and a festival appointed in their honour. Wheatley, an expositor of the Book of Com

The medicating saints are enumerated in the following passage from a whimsical satire of the sixteenth century :

divine;

To every saint they also do his office here assign,
And fourteen do they count, of whom thou may'st have aid
Among the which Our Lady still doth hold the chiefest place,
St Barbara looks that none without the body of Christ doth die;

And of her gentle nature helps in every kind of case.

mon Prayer, probably expresses the limited view of saint of nailsmiths; St Sebastian became that of pinthe subject which is entertained in the Church of Eng-makers, from his having been stuck over with arrows; land, when he says, that "the feast of St Michael and and St Anthony necessarily was adopted by swineAll Angels is observed that the people may know what herds, in consequence of the legend about his pigs. It blessings are derived from the ministry of angels." is not easy, however, to see how St Nicholas came to Amongst Catholics, Michael, or, as he has been named, be the presiding genius of parish-clerks, or how the St Michael, is invoked as "a most glorious and war- innocent and useful fraternity of potters obtained so like prince," "chief officer of paradise," "captain of alarming a saint as "St Gore with a pot in his hand, God's hosts," "receiver of souls," "the vanquisher of and the devil on his shoulder." evil spirits," and "the admirable general." It may also be remarked, that in the Sarum missal, there is a mass to St Raphael, as the protector of pilgrims and travellers, and a skilful worker with medicine; likewise an office for the continual intercession of St Gabriel and all the heavenly militia. Protestant writers trace a connexion between the ancient notion of tutelar genii and the Catholic doctrine respecting angels, the one being, they say, engrafted on the other. As to the soundness of this view we do not give any opinion, but it seems certain that in early ages there was a prevalent notion that the affairs of men were much under the direction of angels, good and bad, and Rooke healeth scabs and mangins, with pocks, and scurf, and men prayed to angels both to obtain good and to avoid evil. Every human being was supposed to have one of these spiritual existences watching over him, aiming at his good, and ready to hear his call when he was in affliction. And however we may judge this to be a delusion, we must certainly own that, as establishing a connexion between the children of earth and something above and beyond the earth, as leading men's minds away from the grossness of worldly pursuits and feelings into the regions of the beautiful and the infinite, it is one of by no means the worst tendency. We must be prepared, however, to find simplicity amidst all the more aspiring ideas of our forefathers.

In time, the sainted spirits of pious persons came to stand in the place of the generally nameless angels, and each place and person had one of these as a special guardian and protector. Not only had each country its particular patron or tutelar saint, but there was one for almost every town and church. Even trades and corporations had their special saints. And there was one more specially to be invoked for each particular ail that could afflict humanity. It will be curious here to descend a little into particulars. First, as to countries, England had St George; Scotland, St Andrew; Ireland, St Patrick; Wales, St David; France, St Dennis and (in a less degree) St Michael; Spain, St James (Jago); Portugal, St Sebastian; Italy, St Anthony; Sardinia, St Mary; Switzerland, St Gall and the Virgin Mary; Germany, St Martin, St Boniface, and St George Cataphractus; Hungary, St Mary of Aquisgrana and St Lewis; Bohemia, St Winceslaus; Austria, St Colman and St Leopold; Flanders, St Peter; Holland, St Mary; Denmark, St Anscharius and St Canute; Sweden, St Anscharius, St Eric, and St John; Norway, St Olaus and St Anscharius; Poland, St Stanislaus and St Hederiga; Prussia, St Andrew and St Albert; Russia, St Nicholas, St Mary, and St Andrew. Then as to cities, Edinburgh had St Giles, Aberdeen St Nicholas, and Glasgow St Mungo; Oxford had St Frideswide; Paris, St Genevieve; Rome, St Peter and St Paul; Venice, St Mark; Naples, St Januarius and St Thomas Aquinas; Lisbon, St Vincent; Brussels, St Mary and St Gudula; Vienna, St Stephen; Cologne, the three kings, with St Ursula with the eleven thousand virgins.

St Agatha presides over nurses. St Catherine and St Gregory are the patrons of literati and studious persons; St Catherine also presides over the arts. St Christopher and St Nicholas preside over mariners. St Cecilia is the patroness of musicians. St Cosmas and St Damian are the patrons of physicians and surgeons, also of philosophers. St Dismas and St Nicholas preside over thieves; St Eustace and St Hubert over hunters; St Felicitas over young children. St Julian is the patron of pilgrims. St Leonard and St Barbara protect captives. St Luke is the patron of painters. St Martin and St Urban preside over tipsy people, to save them from falling into the kennel. Fools have a tutelar saint in St Mathurin, archers in St Sebastian, divines in St Thomas, and lovers in St Valentine. St Thomas Becket presided over blind men, eunuchs, and sinners, St Winifred over virgins, and St Yves over lawyers and civilians. St thelbert and St Ælian were invoked against thieves.

Generally, the connexion of these saints with the classes of persons enumerated took its rise in some incident of their lives, and in the manner of their deaths; for instance, St Nicholas was once in danger at sea, and St Sebastian was killed by arrows. Probably, for like reasons, St Agatha presided over valleys, St Anne over riches, St Barbara over hills, and St Florian over fire; while St Silvester protected wood, St Urban wine and vineyards, and St Osyth was invoked by women to guard their keys, and St Anne as the restorer of lost things. Generally, the patron saints of trades were, on similar grounds, persons who had themselves exercised them, or were supposed to have done so. Thus, St Joseph naturally presided over carpenters, St Peter over fishmongers, and St Crispin over shoemakers. St Arnold was the patron of millers, St Clement of tanners, St Eloy of smiths, St Goodman of tailors, St Florian of mercers, St John Port-Latin of booksellers, St Louis of periwig-makers, St Severus of fullers, St Wilfred of bakers, St William of hatters, and St Windeline of shepherds. The name of St Cloud obviously made him the patron

St Catherine favours learned men and gives them wisdom high,
And teacheth to resolve the doubts, and always giveth aid

Unto the scolding sophister, to make his reason staid.
St Apolin the rotten teeth doth help when sore they ache;
Otilia from the bleared eyes the cause and grief doth take;

scall,

And cooleth raging carbuncles, and boils, and botches all.
There is a saint, whose name in verse cannot declared be,*
He serves against the plague and each infective malady.
St Valentine, beside, to such as do his power despise
The falling sickness sends, and helps the man that to him cries,
The raging mind of furious folk doth Vitus pacify,
And doth restore them to their wit, being called on speedily.
Erasmus heals the colic and the griping of the guts,

And Laurence from the back and from the shoulder sickness puts.
Blaise drives away the quinsy quite with water sanctified,
From every Christian creature here, and every beast beside.
But Leonard of the prisoners doth the bands asunder pull,
And breaks the prison doors and chains, wherewith his church
is full.

The quartan ague, and the rest doth Pernel take away,
And John preserves the worshippers from prison every day;
Which force to Bennet eke they give, that help enough may be,
By saints in every place. What dost thou omitted see?

From dreadful unprovided death doth Mark deliver his,
Who of more force than death himself, and more of value is.
St Anne gives wealth and living great to such as love her most,
And is a perfect finder out of things that have been lost;
Which virtue likewise they ascribe unto another man,
St Vincent; what he is I cannot tell, nor whence he came.
Against reproach and infamy on Susan do they call;
Romanus driveth sprites away and wicked devils all.
The bishop Wolfgang heals the gout, St Wendlin keeps the sheep,
With shepherds and the oxen fat, as he was wont to keep.
The bristled hogs doth Anthony preserve and cherish well,
Who in his lifetime always did in woods and forests dwell.
St Gertrude rids the house of mice, and killeth all the rats;
And like doth Bishop Huldrick with his two earth-passing cats.
St Gregory looks to little boys, to teach their a, b, c,
And makes them for to love their books, and scholars good to be.
That beaten are with boisterous waves, and toss'd in dreadful seas.
Great Christopher that painted is with body big and tall,
Doth even the same, who doth preserve and keep his servants all
From fearful terrors of the night, and makes them well to rest,

St Nicholas keeps the mariners from dangers and disease,

By whom they also all their life with diverse joys are blest.
But when it burns, in armour all doth Florian quench the same.
St Agatha defends the house from fire and fearful flame,

It will be learned, with some surprise, that these notions of presiding angels and saints are what have led to the custom of choosing magistracies on the 29th of September. The history of the middle ages is full of curious illogical relations, and this is one of them. Local rulers were esteemed as in some respects analogous to tutelar angels, in as far as they presided over and protected the people. It was therefore thought proper to choose them on the day of St Michael and All Angels. The idea must have been extensively prevalent, for the custom of electing magistrates on this day is very extensive.

September, when by custom (right divine)
Geese are ordained to bleed at Michael's shrine-

says Churchill. This is also an ancient practice, and
still generally kept up, as the appearance of the stage-
coaches on their way to large towns at this season of
the year amply testifies. In Blount's Tenures, it is
noted in the tenth year of Edward IV., that John de
la Hay was bound to pay to William Barnaby, lord
of Lastres, in the county of Hereford, for a parcel of
the demesne lands, one goose fit for the lord's dinner, on
the feast of St Michael the archangel. Queen Eliza-
beth is said to have been eating her Michaelmas goose
when she received the joyful tidings of the defeat of
the Spanish Armada. The custom appears to have
originated in a practice among the rural tenantry of
bringing a good stubble goose at Michaelmas to the
landlord, when paying their rent, with a view to
making him lenient. In the poems of George Gas-
coigne, 1575, is the following passage :-
They bring some fowl at Midsummer, a dish of fish in Lent,
And when the tenants come to pay their quarter's rent,
At Christmas a capon, at Michaelmas a goose,
And somewhat else at New-Year's tide, for fear their lease fly
loose.

We may suppose that the selection of a goose for a present to the landlord at Michaelmas would be ruled by the bird being then at its perfection, in consequence of the benefit derived from stubble feeding. It is easy to see how a general custom of having a goose for dinner on Michaelmas day might arise from the multitude of these presents, as landlords would of course, in most cases, have a few to spare for their friends. It seems at length to have become a superstition, that eating of goose at Michaelmas insured easy circumstances for the ensuing year. In the "British Apollo," 1709, the following piece of dialogue occurs:

Q.-Yet my wife would persuade me (as I am a sinner)
To have a fat goose on St Michael for dinner:

* Probably St Roque.

« PreviousContinue »