As a further instance of the climate, I may add, that several times, while my mind was very warmly occupied in writing my despatches, I found my pen full of a lump of stuff that appeared to be honey, but which proved to be frozen ink; again, after washing in the morning, when I took up some money that had lain all night on my table, I at first fancied it had become sticky, until I discovered that the sensation was caused by its freezing to my fingers, which, in consequence of my ablutions, were not perfectly dry.



Notwithstanding, however, this intensity of cold, the powerful circulation of the blood of large quadrupeds keeps the red fluid, like the movement of the waters in the great lakes, from freezing; but the human frame not being gifted with this power, many people lose their limbs, and occasionally their lives, from cold. I one day inquired of a fine, ruddy, honest-looking man, who called upon me, and whose toes and instep of each foot had been truncated, how the accident happened? He told me that the first winter he came from England he lost his way in the forest, and that after walking for some hours, feeling pain in his feet, he took off his boots, and from the flesh immediately swelling, he was unable to put them on again. His stockings, which were very old ones, soon wore into holes; and as rising on his insteps he was hurriedly proceeding he knew not where, he saw with alarm, but without feeling the slightest pain, first one toe and then another break off, as if they had been pieces of brittle stick, and in this mutilated state he continued to advance till he reached a path which led him to an inhabited log house, where he remained suffering great pain till his cure was effected.

Although the sun, from the latitude, has considerable power, it appears only to illuminate the sparkling snow, which, like the sugar on a bridal cake, conceals the whole surface. The instant, however, the fire of heaven sinks below the horizon, the cold descends from the upper regions of the atmosphere with a feeling as if it were poured down upon the head and shoulders from a jug.

SIR FRANCIS HEAD.

* * * * *



BALLOONS.

The idea of constructing a machine which should enable us to rise into and sail through the air, seems often to have occupied the attention of mankind, even from remote times, but it was never realised until within the last sixty or seventy years. The first public ascent of a fire-balloon in France, in 1783, led to an experiment on the part of Joseph Mongolfier. He constructed a balloon of linen, lined with paper, which, when inflated by means of burning chopped straw and coal, was found to be capable of raising 500 pounds weight. It was inflated in front of the Palace at Versailles, in the presence of the Royal family, and a basket, containing a sheep, a duck, and a cock, was attached to it. It was then liberated, and ascended to the height of 1500 feet. It fell about two miles from Versailles; the animals were uninjured, and the sheep was found quietly feeding near the place of its descent.

Monsieur Mongolfier then constructed one of superior strength, and a M. de Rozier ventured to take his seat in the car and ascend three hundred feet, the height allowed by the ropes, which were not cut. This same person afterwards undertook an aerial voyage, descending in safety about five miles from Paris, where the balloon ascended. But this enterprising voyager in the air afterwards attempted to travel in a balloon with sails. This was formed by a singular combination of balloons—one inflated with hydrogen gas, and the other a fire-balloon. The latter, however, catching fire, the whole apparatus fell from the height of about three-quarters of a mile, with the mangled bodies of the voyagers attached to the complicated machinery.



A Frenchman named Tester, in 1786, also made an excursion in a balloon with sails; these sails or wings aided in carrying his balloon so high, that when he had reached an elevation of 3000 feet, fearing his balloon might burst, he descended into a corn-field in the plain of Montmorency. An immense crowd ran eagerly to the spot; and the owner of the field, angry at the injury his crop had sustained, demanded instant indemnification. Tester offered no resistance, but persuaded the peasants that, having lost his wings, he could not possibly escape. The ropes were seized by a number of persons, who attempted to drag the balloon towards the village; but as, during the procession, it had acquired considerable buoyancy, Tester suddenly cut the cords, and, rising in the air, left the disappointed peasants overwhelmed in astonishment. After being out in a terrible thunder-storm, he descended uninjured, about twelve hours from the time of his first ascent.

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SIR THOMAS GRESHAM.



Among the worthies of this country who, after a successful and honourable employment of their talent in life, have generously consulted the advantage of generations to come after them, few names appear more conspicuous than that of Sir Thomas Gresham, the founder of Gresham College, and of the Royal Exchange, London. He was born in that city about the year 1518, the second son of Sir Richard Gresham, who served the office of sheriff in 1531, and that of Lord Mayor in 1537. He received a liberal education at the University, and is mentioned in high terms as having distinguished himself at Cambridge, being styled "that noble and most learned merchant." His father at this time held the responsible position of King's merchant, and had the management of the Royal monies at Antwerp, then the most important seat of commerce in Europe; and when his son Sir Thomas succeeded him in this responsible appointment, he not only established his fame as a merchant, but secured universal respect and esteem. After the accession of Queen Elizabeth, his good qualities attracted the peculiar notice of her Majesty, who was pleased to bestow on him the honour of knighthood; and at this time he built the noble house in Bishopsgate-street, which after his death was converted to the purposes of a College of his own foundation.

In the year 1564, Sir Thomas made an offer to the Corporation of London, that, if the City would give him a piece of ground, he would erect an Exchange at his own expense; and thus relieve the merchants from their present uncomfortable mode of transacting business in the open air. The liberal offer being accepted, the building, which was afterwards destroyed in the Great Fire of London, was speedily constructed, at a very great expense, and ornamented with a number of statues. Nor did Gresham's persevering benevolence stop here: though he had so much to engross his time and attention, he still found leisure to consider the claims of the destitute and aged, and in his endowment of eight alms-houses with a comfortable allowance for as many decayed citizens of London, displayed that excellent grace of charity which was his truest ornament.

In person Sir Thomas was above the middle height, and handsome when a young man, but he was rendered lame by a fall from his horse during one of his journeys in Flanders. Sir Thomas Gresham's exemplary life terminated suddenly on the 21st of November, 1579, after he had just paid a visit to the noble building which he had so generously founded.



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ON THE ATTAINMENT OF KNOWLEDGE.

Let the enlargement of your knowledge be one constant view and design in life; since there is no time or place, no transactions, occurrences, or engagements in life, which exclude us from this method of improving the mind. When we are alone, even in darkness and silence, we may converse with our own hearts, observe the working of our own spirits, and reflect upon the inward motions of our own passions in some of the latest occurrences in life; we may acquaint ourselves with the powers and properties, the tendencies and inclinations both of body and spirit, and gain a more intimate knowledge of ourselves. When we are in company, we may discover something more of human nature, of human passions and follies, and of human affairs, vices and virtues, by conversing with mankind, and observing their conduct. Nor is there any thing more valuable than the knowledge of ourselves and the knowledge of men, except it be the knowledge of God who made us, and our relation to Him as our Governor.

When we are in the house or the city, wheresoever we turn our eyes, we see the works of men; when we are abroad in the country, we behold more of the works of God. The skies and the ground above and beneath us, and the animal and vegetable world round about us, may entertain our observation with ten thousand varieties.

Fetch down some knowledge from the clouds, the stars, the sun, the moon, and the revolutions of all the planets. Dig and draw up some valuable meditations from the depths of the earth, and search them through the vast oceans of water. Extract some intellectual improvement from the minerals and metals; from the wonders of nature among the vegetables and herbs, trees and flowers. Learn some lessons from the birds and the beasts, and the meanest insect. Read the wisdom of God, and his admirable contrivance in them all: read his almighty power, his rich and various goodness, in all the works of his hands.

From the day and the night, the hours and the flying minutes, learn a wise improvement of time, and be watchful to seize every opportunity to increase in knowledge.

From the vices and follies of others, observe what is hateful in them; consider how such a practice looks in another person, and remember that it looks as ill or worse in yourself. From the virtue of others, learn something worthy of your imitation.

From the deformity, the distress, or calamity of others, derive lessons of thankfulness to God, and hymns of grateful praise to your Creator, Governor, and Benefactor, who has formed you in a better mould, and guarded you from those evils. Learn also the sacred lesson of contentment in your own estate, and compassion to your neighbour under his miseries.

From your natural powers, sensations, judgment, memory, hands, feet, &c., make this inference, that they were not given you for nothing, but for some useful employment to the honour of your Maker, and for the good of your fellow-creatures, as well as for your own best interest and final happiness.

DR. WATTS.

* * * * *



THIBETAN SHEEP.

The enterprising traveller, Moorcroft, during his journey across the vast chain of the Himalaya Mountains, in India, undertaken with the hope of finding a passage across those mountains into Tartary, noticed, in the district of Ladak, the peculiar race of sheep of which we give an Engraving. Subsequent observations having confirmed his opinion as to the quality of their flesh and wool, the Honourable East India Company imported a flock, which were sent for a short time to the Gardens of the Zoological Society, Regent's Park. They were then distributed among those landed proprietors whose possessions are best adapted, by soil and climate, for naturalising in the British Islands this beautiful variety of the mountain sheep. The wool, the flesh, and the milk of the sheep appear to have been very early appreciated as valuable products of the animal: with us, indeed, the milk of the flock has given place to that of the herd; but the two former still retain their importance. Soon after the subjugation of Britain by the Romans, a woollen manufactory was established at Winchester, situated in the midst of a district then, as now, peculiarly suited to the short-woolled breed of sheep. So successful was this manufacture, that British cloths were soon preferred at Rome to those of any other part of the Empire, and were worn by the most opulent on festive and ceremonial occasions. From that time forward, the production of wool in this island, and the various manufactures connected with it, have gone on increasing in importance, until it has become one of the chief branches of our commerce.



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NAVAL TACTICS.



On being told the number and size of the sails which a vessel can carry (that is to say, can sail with, without danger of being upset), the uninitiated seldom fail to express much surprise. This is not so striking in a three-decker, as in smaller vessels, because the hull of the former stands very high out of the water, for the sake of its triple rank of guns, and therefore bears a greater proportion to its canvas than that of a frigate or a smaller vessel. The apparent inequality is most obvious in the smallest vessels, as cutters: and of those kept for pleasure, and therefore built for the purpose of sailing as fast as possible, without reference to freight or load, there are many the hull of which might be entirely wrapt up in the mainsail. It is of course very rarely, if ever, that a vessel carries at one time all the sail she is capable of; the different sails being usually employed according to the circumstances of direction of wind and course. The sails of a ship, when complete, are as follows:—

The lowermost sail of the mast, called thence the mainsail, or foresail; the topsail, carried by the topsail-yard; the top-gallant-sail; and above this there is also set a royal sail, and again above this, but only on emergencies, a sail significantly called a sky-sail. Besides all this, the three lowermost of these are capable of having their surface to be exposed to the wind increased by means of studding sails, which are narrow sails set on each side beyond the regular one, by means of small booms or yards, which can be slid out so as to extend the lower yards and topsail-yards: the upper parts of these additional sails hang from small yards suspended from the principal ones, and the boom of the lower studding-sails is hooked on to the chains. Thus each of the two principal masts, the fore and main, are capable of bearing no less than thirteen distinct sails. If a ship could be imagined as cut through by a plane, at right angles to the keel, close to the mainmast, the area, or surface, of all the sails on this would be five or six times as great as that of the section or profile of the hull!

The starboard studding-sails are on the fore-mast, and on both sides of the main-top-gallant and main-royal; but, in going nearly before a wind, there is no advantage derived from the stay-sails, which, accordingly, are not set. The flying-jib is to be set to assist in steadying the motion.

The mizen-mast, instead of a lower square-sail like the two others, has a sail like that of a cutter, lying in the plane of the keel, its bottom stretched on a boom, which extends far over the taffarel, and the upper edge carried by a gaff or yard sloping upwards, supported by ropes from the top of the mizen-mast.

All these sails, the sky-sails excepted, have four sides, as have also the sprit-sails on the bowsprit, jib-boom, &c.; and all, except the sail last mentioned on the mizen, usually lie across the ship, or in planes forming considerable angles with the axis or central line of the ship. There are a number of sails which lie in the same plane with the keel, being attached to the various stays of the masts; these are triangular sails, and those are called stay-sails which are between the masts: those before the fore-mast, and connected with the bowsprit, are the fore stay-sail, the fore-topmast-stay-sail, the jib, sometimes a flying jib, and another called a middle jib, and there are two or three others used occasionally. Thus it appears that there are no less than fifty-three different sails, which are used at times, though, we believe, seldom more than twenty are set at one time, for it is obviously useless to extend or set a sail, if the wind is prevented from filling it by another which intercepts the current of air.

The higher the wind, the fewer the sails which a ship can carry; but as a certain number, or rather quantity, of canvas is necessary in different parts of the ship to allow of the vessel being steered, the principal sails, that is, the courses or lower sails, and the top-sails, admit of being reduced in extent by what is termed reefing: this is done by tying up the upper part of the sail to the yard by means of rows of strings called reef-points passing through the canvas; this reduces the depth of the sail, while its width is unaltered on the yard, which is therefore obliged to be lowered on the mast accordingly.



Ships are principally distinguished as those called merchantmen, which belong to individuals or companies, and are engaged in commerce; and men-of-war, or the national ships, built for the purposes of war. The latter receive their designation from the number of their decks, or of the guns which they carry. The largest are termed ships of the line, from their forming the line of battle when acting together in fleets; and are divided into first-rates, second-rates, third-rates, &c. First-rates include all those carrying 100 guns and upwards, with a company of 850 men and upwards; second-rates mount 90 to 100 guns, and so on, down to the sixth-rates; but some ships of less than 44 guns are termed frigates.



There are three principal masts in a complete ship: the first is the main-mast, which stands in the centre of the ship; at a considerable distance forward is the fore-mast; and at a less distance behind, the mizen-mast. These masts, passing through the decks, are fixed firmly in the keel. There are added to them other masts, which can be taken down or raised—hoisted, as it is termed at sea—at pleasure: these are called top-masts, and, according to the mast to which each is attached—main, fore, or mizen-topmast. When the topmast is carried still higher by the addition of a third, it receives the name of top-gallant-mast. The yards are long poles of wood slung across the masts, or attached to them by one end, and having fixed to them the upper edge of the principal sails. They are named upon the same plan as the masts; for example, the main-yard, the fore-top-sail-yard, and so on. The bowsprit is a strong conical piece of timber, projecting from the stem of a ship, and serving to support the fore-mast, and as a yard or boom on which certain sails are moveable.

According as the wind blows from different points, in regard to the course the ship is sailing, it is necessary that the direction of the yards should be changed, so as to form different angles with the central line or with the keel; this is effected by ropes brought from the ends of the yards to the mast behind that to which these belong, and then, passing through blocks, they come down to the deck: by pulling one of these, the other being slackened, the yard is brought round to the proper degree of inclination; this is termed bracing the yards, the ropes being termed braces.

* * * * *



THE CHOICE OF HERCULES.

When Hercules was in that part of his youth in which it was natural for him to consider what course of life he ought to pursue, he one day retired into a desert, where the silence and solitude of the place very much favoured his meditations. As he was musing on his present condition, and very much perplexed in himself on the state of life he should choose, he saw two women, of a larger stature than ordinary, approaching towards him. One of them had a very noble air, and graceful deportment; her beauty was natural and easy, her person clean and unspotted, her eyes cast towards the ground with an agreeable reserve, her motion and behaviour full of modesty, and her raiment as white as snow. The other had a great deal of health and floridness in her countenance, which she had helped with an artificial white and red; and she endeavoured to appear more graceful than ordinary in her mien, by a mixture of affectation in all her gestures. She had a wonderful confidence and assurance in her looks, and all the variety of colours in her dress, that she thought were the most proper to shew her complexion to advantage. She cast her eyes upon herself, then turned them on those that were present, to see how they liked her, and often looked on the figure she made in her own shadow. Upon her nearer approach to Hercules, she stepped before the other lady, who came forward with a regular, composed carriage, and running up to him, accosted him after the following manner:—

"My dear Hercules!" says she, "I find you are very much divided in your thoughts upon the way of life that you ought to choose; be my friend, and follow me; I will lead you into the possession of pleasure, and out of the reach of pain, and remove you from all the noise and disquietude of business. The affairs of either war or peace shall have no power to disturb you. Your whole employment shall be to make your life easy, and to entertain every sense with its proper gratifications. Sumptuous tables, beds of roses, clouds of perfume, concerts of music, crowds of beauties, are all in readiness to receive you. Come along with me into this region of delights, this world of pleasure, and bid farewell for ever to care, to pain, to business." Hercules, hearing the lady talk after this manner, desired to know her name, to which she answered—"My friends, and those who are well acquainted with me, call me Happiness; but my enemies, and those who would injure my reputation, have given me the name of Pleasure."

By this time the other lady was come up, who addressed herself to the young hero in a very different manner:—"Hercules," says she, "I offer myself to you because I know you are descended from the gods, and give proofs of that descent by your love of virtue and application to the studies proper for your age. This makes me hope you will gain, both for yourself and me, an immortal reputation. But before I invite you into my society and friendship, I will be open and sincere with you, and must lay this down as an established truth, that there is nothing truly valuable which can be purchased without pains and labour. The gods have set a price upon every real and noble pleasure. If you would gain the favour of the Deity, you must be at the pains of worshipping Him; if the friendship of good men, you must study to oblige them; if you would be honoured by your country, you must take care to serve it; in short, if you would be eminent in war or peace, you must become master of all the qualifications that can make you so. These are the only terms and conditions upon which I can propose happiness."

The Goddess of Pleasure here broke in upon her discourse:—"You see," said she, "Hercules, by her own confession, the way to her pleasures is long and difficult; whereas that which I propose is short and easy."

"Alas!" said the other lady, whose visage glowed with passion, made up of scorn and pity, "what are the pleasures you propose? To eat before you are hungry; drink before you are athirst; sleep before you are tired; to gratify appetites before they are raised, and raise such appetites as Nature never planted. You never heard the most delicious music, which is the praise of one's-self; nor saw the most beautiful object, which is the work of one's own hands. Your votaries pass away their youth in a dream of mistaken pleasures, while they are hoarding up anguish, torment, and remorse for old age. As for me, I am the friend of gods and of good men; an agreeable companion to the artizan; an household guardian to the fathers of families; a patron and protector of servants; an associate in all true and generous friendships. The banquets of my votaries are never costly, but always delicious; for none eat or drink of them who are not invited by hunger or thirst. Their slumbers are sound, and their wakings cheerful. My young men have the pleasure of hearing themselves praised by those who are in years; and those who are in years, of being honoured by those who are young. In a word, my followers are favoured by the gods, beloved by their acquaintance, esteemed by their country, and after the close of their labours honoured by posterity."

We know, by the life of this memorable hero, to which of these two ladies he gave up his heart; and I believe every one who reads this will do him the justice to approve his choice.

Tatler.

* * * * *



STRATA FLORIDA ABBEY.



The remains of Strata Florida Abbey, in South Wales, are most interesting in many points of view, more especially as the relics of a stately seminary for learning, founded as early as the year 1164. The community of the Abbey were Cistercian monks, who soon attained great celebrity, and acquired extensive possessions. A large library was founded by them, which included the national records from the earliest periods, the works of the bards and the genealogies of the Princes and great families in Wales. The monks also compiled a valuable history of the Principality, down to the death of Llewellyn the Great. When Edward I. invaded Wales, he burned the Abbey, but it was rebuilt A.D. 1294.

Extensive woods once flourished in the vicinity of Strata Florida, and its burial-place covered no less than 120 acres. A long list of eminent persons from all parts of Wales were here buried, and amongst them David ap Gwillim, the famous bard. The churchyard is now reduced to small dimensions; but leaden coffins, doubtless belonging to once celebrated personages, are still found, both there and at a distance from the cemetery. A few aged box and yew-trees now only remain to tell of the luxuriant verdure which once grew around the Abbey; and of the venerable pile itself little is left, except an arch, and the fragment of a fine old wall, about forty feet high. A small church now stands within the enclosure, more than commonly interesting from having been built with the materials of the once celebrated Abbey of Strata Florida.

* * * * *



KAFFIR CHIEFS.



In the warm summer months a thin kind of petticoat constitutes the sole bodily attire of the Kaffir Chiefs; but in winter a cloak is used, made of the skins of wild beasts, admirably curried. The head, even in the hottest weather, is never protected by any covering, a fillet, into which a feather of the ostrich is stuck, being generally worn; and they seldom wear shoes, except on undertaking a long journey, when they condescend to use a rude substitute for them. The bodies of both sexes are tattooed; and the young men, like the fops of more civilized nations, paint their skins and curl their hair. Their arms are the javelin, a large shield of buffalo-hide, and a short club.

The women exhibit taste in the arrangement of their dress, particularly for that of the head, which consists of a turban made of skin, and profusely ornamented with beads, of which adornment both men and women are very fond. A mantle of skin, variously bedecked with these and other showy trinkets, is worn; and the only distinction between the dress of the chieftains' wives and those of a lower rank consists in a greater profusion of ornaments possessed by the former, but of which all are alike vain. There is no change of dress, the whole wardrobe of the female being that which she carries about with her and sleeps in, for bed-clothes they have none.

The grain which they chiefly cultivate is a kind of millet: a small quantity of Indian corn and some pumpkins are likewise grown; but a species of sugar-cane is produced in great abundance, and of this they are extremely fond. Their diet, however, is chiefly milk in a sour curdled state. They dislike swine's flesh, keep no poultry, are averse to fish, but indulge in eating the flesh of their cattle, which they do in a very disgusting way. Although naturally brave and warlike, they prefer an indolent pastoral life, hunting being an occasional pastime.

Much light was thrown on the condition and future prospects of this people in 1835, by some papers relative to the Cape of Good Hope, which were laid before the English Government. From these it appeared that a system of oppression and unjustifiable appropriation on the part of the whites, have from time to time roused the savage energies of the Kaffirs, and impelled them to make severe reprisals upon their European spoilers. The longing of the Cape colonists for the well-watered valleys of the Kaffirs, and of the latter for the colonial cattle, which are much superior to their own, still are, as they have always been, the sources of irritation. Constant skirmishes took place, until, at length, in 1834, the savages poured into the colony in vast numbers, wasted the farms, drove off the cattle, and murdered not a few of the inhabitants. An army of 4000 men was marched against the invaders, who were driven far beyond the boundary-line which formerly separated Kaffirland from Cape Colony, and not only forced to confine themselves within the new limits prescribed, but to pay a heavy fine. Treaties have been entered into, and tracts of country assigned to the Kaffir chiefs of several families, who acknowledge themselves to be subjects of Great Britain, and who are to pay a fat ox annually as a quit-rent for the lands which they occupy.

Macomo, one of the Kaffir Chiefs, is a man of most remarkable character and talent, and succeeded his father, Gaika, who had been possessed of much greater power and wider territories than the son, but had found himself compelled to yield up a large portion of his lands to the colonists. Macomo received no education; all the culture which his mind ever obtained being derived from occasional intercourse with missionaries, after he had grown to manhood. From 1819, the period of Gaika's concessions, up to the year 1829, he with his tribe dwelt upon the Kat river, following their pastoral life in peace, and cultivating their corn-fields. Suddenly they were ejected from their lands by the Kat river, on the plea that Gaika had ceded these lands to the colony. Macomo retired, almost without a murmur, to a district farther inland, leaving the very grain growing upon his fields. He took up a new position on the banks of the river Chunice, and here he and his tribe dwelt until 1833, when they were again driven out to seek a new home, almost without pretence. On this occasion Macomo did make a remonstrance, in a document addressed to an influential person of the colony. "In the whole of this savage Kaffir's letter, there is," says Dr. Philip, "a beautiful simplicity, a touching pathos, a confiding magnanimity, a dignified remonstrance, which shows its author to be no common man. It was dictated to an interpreter."



"As I and my people," writes Macomo, "have been driven back over the Chunice, without being informed why, I should be glad to know from the Government what evil we have done. I was only told that we must retire over the Chunice, but for what reason I was not informed. It was agreed that I and my people should live west of the Chunice, as well as east of it. When shall I and my people be able to get rest?"

* * * * *



RAILWAY TUNNELS.



Of the difficulties which occasionally baffle the man of science, in his endeavours to contend with the hidden secrets of the crust of the earth which we inhabit, the Kilsby Tunnel of the London and North-western Railway presents a striking example. The proposed tunnel was to be driven about 160 feet below the surface. It was to be, as indeed it is, 2399 yards in length, with two shafts of the extraordinary size of sixty feet in diameter, not only to give air and ventilation, but to admit light enough to enable the engine-driver, in passing through it with a train, to see the rails from end to end. In order correctly to ascertain, and honestly to make known to the contractors the nature of the ground through which this great work was to pass, the engineer-in-chief sank the usual number of what are called "trial shafts;" and, from the result, the usual advertisements for tenders were issued, and the shafts, &c. having been minutely examined by the competing contractors, the work was let to one of them for the sum of L99,000. In order to drive the tunnel, it was deemed necessary to construct eighteen working shafts, by which, like the heavings of a mole, the contents of the subterranean gallery were to be brought to the surface. This interesting work was in busy progress, when, all of a sudden, it was ascertained, that, at about 200 yards from the south end of the tunnel, there existed, overlaid by a bed of clay, forty feet thick, a hidden quicksand, which extended 400 yards into the proposed tunnel, and which the trial shafts on each side of it had almost miraculously just passed without touching. Overwhelmed at the discovery, the contractor instantly took to his bed; and though he was justly relieved by the company from his engagement, the reprieve came too late, for he actually died.

The general opinion of the several eminent engineers who were consulted was against proceeding; but Mr. R. Stephenson offered to undertake the responsibility of the work. His first operation was to lower the water with which he had to contend, and it was soon ascertained that the quicksand in question covered several square miles. The tunnel, thirty feet high by thirty feet broad, was formed of bricks, laid in cement, and the bricklayers were progressing in lengths averaging twelve feet, when those who were nearest the quicksand, on driving into the roof, were suddenly almost overwhelmed by a deluge of water, which burst in upon them. As it was evident that no time was to be lost, a gang of workmen, protected by the extreme power of the engines, were, with their materials, placed on a raft; and while, with the utmost celerity, they were completing the walls of that short length, the water, in spite of every effort to keep it down, rose with such rapidity, that, at the conclusion of the work, the men were so near being jammed against the roof, that the assistant-engineer jumped overboard, and then swimming, with a rope in his mouth, he towed the raft to the nearest working shaft, through which he and his men were safely lifted to daylight, or, as it is termed by miners, "to grass."

The water now rose in the shaft, and, as it is called, "drowned the works" but, by the main strength of 1250 men, 200 horses, and thirteen steam-engines, not only was the work gradually completed, but, during day and night for eight months, the almost incredible quantity of 1800 gallons of water per minute was raised, and conducted away. The time occupied from the laying of the first brick to the completion was thirty months.



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SUN FISH.

While lying in Little Killery Bay, on the coast of Connemara, in her Majesty's surveying ketch Sylvia, we were attracted by a large fin above the surface, moving with an oscillatory motion, somewhat resembling the action of a man sculling at the stern of a boat; and knowing it to be an unusual visitor, we immediately got up the harpoon and went in chase. In the meantime, a country boat came up with the poor animal, and its crew inflicted upon it sundry blows with whatever they could lay their hands on—oars, grappling, stones, &c.—but were unsuccessful in taking it; and it disappeared for some few minutes, when it again exhibited its fin on the other side of the Bay. The dull and stupid animal permitted us to place our boat immediately over it, and made no effort to escape. The harpoon never having been sharpened, glanced off without effect; but another sailor succeeded in securing it by the tail with a boat-hook, and passing the bight of a rope behind its fins, we hauled it on shore, under Salrock House, the residence of General Thompson, who, with his family, came down to inspect this strange-looking inhabitant of the sea. We were well soused by the splashing of its fins, ere a dozen hands succeeded in transporting this heavy creature from its native abode to the shore, where it passively died, giving only an occasional movement with its fins, or uttering a kind of grunt.



This animal, I believe, is a specimen of the Sun-fish (Orthagoriscus). It has no bony skeleton; nor did we, in our rather hasty dissection, discover any osseous structure whatever, except (as we were informed by one who afterwards inspected it) that there was one which stretched between the large fins. Its jaws also had bony terminations, unbroken into teeth, and parrot-like, which, when not in use, are hidden by the envelopement of the gums. The form of the animal is preserved by an entire cartilaginous case, of about three inches in thickness, covered by a kind of shagreen skin, so amalgamated with the cartilage as not to be separated from it. This case is easily penetrable with a knife, and is of pearly whiteness, more resembling cocoa-nut in appearance and texture than anything else I can compare it with. The interior cavity, containing the vital parts, terminates a little behind the large fins, where the cartilage was solid, to its tapered extremity, which is without a caudal fin. Within, and around the back part, lay the flesh, of a coarse fibrous texture, slightly salmon-coloured. The liver was such as to fill a common pail, and there was a large quantity of red blood. The nostril, top of the eye, and top of the gill-orifice are in line, as represented in the Engraving. The dimensions are as under:—

Eye round, and like that of an ox, 2-1/4 inches diameter. Gill-orifice, 4 inches by 2-1/4 inches. Dorsal and anal fins equal, 2 ft. 2 in. long, by 1 ft. 3 in. wide. Pectoral fins, 10 in. high by 8 broad. Length of fish, 6 ft. Depth, from the extremities of the large fins, 7 ft. 4 in. Extreme breadth at the swelling under the eye, only 20 in. Weight, 6 cwt. 42 lb.

CAPTAIN BEDFORD, R.N.

* * * * *



BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.



Of Nelson and the North Sing the glorious day's renown, When to battle fierce came forth All the might of Denmark's crown, And her arms along the deep proudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand, In a bold determined hand— And the Prince of all the land Led them on.

Like Leviathans afloat Lay their bulwarks on the brine; While the sign of battle flew On the lofty British line; It was ten of April morn, by the chime, As they drifted on their path: There was silence deep as death, And the boldest held his breath For a time.

But the might of England flush'd To anticipate the scene; And her van the fleeter rush'd O'er the deadly space between. "Hearts of Oak!" our Captains cried; when each gun From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round the ships, Like the hurricane eclipse Of the sun.

Again! again! again! And the havoc did not slack, Till a feeble cheer the Dane To our cheering sent us back— Their shots along the deep slowly boom: Then ceased, and all is wail As they strike the shatter'd sail, Or, in conflagration pale, Light the gloom.

Out spoke the victor then, As he hail'd them o'er the wave, "Ye are brothers! ye are men! And we conquer but to save; So peace instead of death let us bring. But yield, proud foe, thy fleet, With their crews, at England's feet, And make submission meet To our King."

Then Denmark bless'd our chief, That he gave her wounds repose; And the sounds of joy and grief From her people wildly rose, As Death withdrew his shades from the day, While the sun look'd smiling bright O'er a wide and woeful sight, Where the fires of funeral light Died away.

Now joy, old England, raise! For the tidings of thy might, By the festal cities' blaze, Whilst the wine-cup shines in light; And yet, amidst that joy and uproar, Let us think of them that sleep, Full many a fathom deep, By thy wild and stormy steep— Ellsinore!

Brave hearts! to Britain's pride, Once so faithful and so true, On the deck of fame that died With the gallant, good Riou— Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave: While the billow mournful rolls, And the mermaid's song condoles, Singing glory to the souls Of the brave.

CAMPBELL.

* * * * *



ARTILLERY TACTICS.



Cannon took their name from the French word Canne, a reed. Before their invention, machines were used for throwing enormous stones. These were imitated from the Arabs, and called ingenia, whence engineer. The first cannon were made of wood, wrapped up in numerous folds of linen, and well secured by iron hoops. The true epoch of the use of metallic cannon cannot be ascertained; it is certain, however, that they were in use about the middle of the 14th century. The Engraving beneath represents a field-battery gun taking up its position in a canter. The piece of ordnance is attached, or "limbered up" to an ammunition carriage, capable of carrying two gunners, or privates, whilst the drivers are also drilled so as to be able to serve at the gun in action, in case of casualties.



Having reached its destination, and been detached or "unlimbered" from the front carriage, we next see the action of loading; the ramrod having at its other extremity a sheep-skin mop, larger than the bore of the piece, and called "a sponge." This instrument, before loading, is invariably used, whilst the touch-hole or "vent" is covered by the thumb of the gunner especially numbered off for this important duty; and the air being thus excluded, the fire, which often remains within the bore, attached to either portions of cartridge-case or wadding, is extinguished. Serious accidents have been known to occur from a neglect of this important preliminary to loading; as a melancholy instance, a poor fellow may be seen about the Woolwich barracks, both of whose arms were blown off above the elbow joint, whilst ramming home a cartridge before the sponge had been properly applied.



If it is deemed essential to keep up a fire upon the enemy during a temporary retreat, or in order to avoid an overwhelming body of cavalry directed against guns unsupported by infantry, in that case the limber remains as close as possible to the field-piece, as shown in the Engraving above.

Skilful provisions are made against the various contingencies likely to occur in action. A wheel may he shattered by the enemy's shot, and the gun thereby disabled for the moment: this accident is met by supporting the piece upon a handspike, firmly grasped by one or two men on each side, according to the weight of the gun, whilst a spare wheel, usually suspended at the back of "the tumbril," or ammunition waggon, is obtained, and in a few moments made to remedy the loss, as represented above.



The extraordinary rapidity with which a gun can be dislodged from its carriage, and every portion of its complicated machinery scattered upon the ground, is hardly to be believed unless witnessed; but the wonder is increased tenfold, on seeing with what magical celerity the death-dealing weapon can be put together again. These operations will be readily understood by an examination of the Illustrations. In that at the foot of page 175 the cannon is lying useless upon the earth; one wheel already forms the rude resting-place of a gunner, whilst the other is in the act of being displaced. By the application of a rope round the termination of the breech, and the lifting of the trail of the carriage, care being previously taken that the trunnions are in their respective sockets, a very slight exertion of manual labour is required to put the gun into fighting trim. That we may be understood, we will add that the trunnions are the short round pieces of iron, or brass, projecting from the sides of the cannon, and their relative position can be easily ascertained by a glance at the gun occupying the foreground of the Illustration where the dismantling is depicted. To perform the labour thus required in managing cannon, is called to serve the guns.



Cannon are cast in a solid mass of metal, either of iron or brass; they are then bored by being placed upon a machine which causes the whole mass to turn round very rapidly. The boring tool being pressed against the cannon thus revolving, a deep hole is made in it, called the bore.

* * * * *



THE TREE KANGAROO AND BLACK LEOPARD.

The ordinary mode in which the Kangaroos make their way on the ground, as well as by flight from enemies, is by a series of bounds, often of prodigious extent. They spring from their hind limbs alone, using neither the tail nor the fore limbs. In feeding, they assume a crouching, hare-like position, resting on the fore paws as well as on the hinder extremities, while they browse on the herbage. In this attitude they hop gently along, the tail being pressed to the ground. On the least alarm they rise on the hind limbs, and bound to a distance with great rapidity. Sometimes, when excited, the old male of the great kangaroo stands on tiptoe and on his tail, and is then of prodigious height. It readily takes to the water, and swims well, often resorting to this mode of escape from its enemies, among which is the dingo, or wild dog of Australia.



Man is, however, the most unrelenting foe of this inoffensive animal. It is a native of New Holland and Van Diemen's Land, and was first discovered by the celebrated navigator Captain Cook, in 1770, while stationed on the coast of New South Wales. In Van Diemen's Land the great kangaroo is regularly hunted with fox-hounds, as the deer or fox in England.

The Tree Kangaroo, in general appearance, much resembles the common kangaroo, having many of that animal's peculiarities. It seems to have the power of moving very quickly on a tree; sometimes holding tight with its fore feet, and bringing its hind feet up together with a jump; at other times climbing ordinarily.

* * * * *

In the island of Java a black variety of the Leopard is not uncommon, and such are occasionally seen in our menageries; they are deeper than the general tint, and the spots show in certain lights only. Nothing can exceed the grace and agility of the leopards; they bound with astonishing ease, climb trees, and swim, and the flexibility of the body enables them to creep along the ground with the cautious silence of a snake on their unsuspecting prey.

In India the leopard is called by the natives the "tree-tiger," from its generally taking refuge in a tree when pursued, and also from being often seen among the branches: so quick and active is the animal in this situation, that it is not easy to take a fair aim at him. Antelopes, deer, small quadrupeds, and monkeys are its prey. It seldom attacks a man voluntarily, but, if provoked, becomes a formidable assailant. It is sometimes taken in pitfalls and traps. In some old writers there are accounts of the leopard being taken in trap, by means of a mirror, which, when the animal jump against it, brings a door down upon him.

* * * * *



CHARITY.



Did sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue, Than ever man pronounced or angel sung; Had I all knowledge, human and divine That thought can reach, or science can define; And had I power to give that knowledge birth, In all the speeches of the babbling earth, Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire, To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire; Or had I faith like that which Israel saw, When Moses gave them miracles and law: Yet, gracious Charity, indulgent guest, Were not thy power exerted in my breast, Those speeches would send up unheeded pray'r; That scorn of life would be but wild despair; A cymbal's sound were better than my voice; My faith were form, my eloquence were noise.



Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind, Softens the high, and rears the abject mind; Knows with just reins, and gentle hand, to guide Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride. Not soon provoked, she easily forgives; And much she suffers, as she much believes. Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives; She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives; Lays the rough paths of peevish nature even, And opens in each heart a little heaven.

Each other gift, which God on man bestows, Its proper bounds, and due restriction knows; To one fix'd purpose dedicates its power; And finishing its act, exists no more. Thus, in obedience to what Heaven decrees, Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease; But lasting Charity's more ample sway, Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay, In happy triumph shall for ever live, And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive.

As through the artist's intervening glass, Our eye observes the distant planets pass, A little we discover, but allow That more remains unseen than art can show; So whilst our mind its knowledge would improve, Its feeble eye intent on things above, High as we may we lift our reason up, By faith directed, and confirm'd by hope; Yet are we able only to survey Dawnings of beams and promises of day; Heav'n's fuller effluence mocks our dazzled sight— Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light.

But soon the mediate clouds shall be dispell'd; The Son shall soon be face to face beheld, In all his robes, with all his glory on, Seated sublime on his meridian throne.

Then constant Faith, and holy Hope shall vie, One lost in certainty, and one in joy: Whilst thou, more happy pow'r, fair Charity, Triumphant sister, greatest of the three, Thy office, and thy nature still the same, Lasting thy lamp, and unconsumed thy flame, Shall still survive— Shall stand before the host of heav'n confest, For ever blessing, and for ever blest.

PRIOR.

* * * * *



SARDIS.



Sardis, the ancient capital of the kingdom of Lydia, is situated on the river Pactolus, in the fertile plain below Mount Tmolus. Wealth, pomp, and luxury characterised this city from very ancient times. The story of Croesus, its last King, is frequently alluded to by historians, as affording a remarkable example of the instability of human greatness. This Monarch considered himself the happiest of human beings, but being checked by the philosopher Solon for his arrogance, he was offended, and dismissed the sage from his Court with disgrace. Not long afterwards, led away by the ambiguous answers of the oracles, he conducted a large army into the field against Cyrus, the future conqueror of Babylon, but was defeated, and obliged to return to his capital, where he shut himself up. Hither he was soon followed and besieged by Cyrus, with a far inferior force; but, at the expiration of fourteen days, the citadel, which had been deemed impregnable, was taken by a stratagem, and Croesus was condemned to the flames. When the sentence was about to be executed, he was heard to invoke the name of Solon, and the curiosity of Cyrus being excited, he asked the cause; and, having heard his narrative, ordered him to be set free, and subsequently received him into his confidence.



Under the Romans, Sardis declined in importance, and, being destroyed by an earthquake, for some time lay desolate, until it was rebuilt by the Roman Emperor Tiberius.

The situation of Sardis is very beautiful, but the country over which it looks is almost deserted, and the valley is become a swamp. The hill of the citadel, when seen from the opposite bank of the Hermus, appears of a triangular form; and at the back of it rise ridge after ridge of mountains, the highest covered with snow, and many of them bearing evident marks of having been jagged and distorted by earthquakes. The citadel is exceedingly difficult of ascent; but the magnificent view which it commands of the plain of the Hermus, and other objects of interest, amply repays the risk and fatigue. The village, small as it is, boasts of containing one of the most remarkable remains of antiquity in Asia; namely, the vast Ionic temple of the heathen goddess Cybele, or the earth, on the banks of the Pactolus. In 1750, six columns of this temple were standing, but four of them have since been thrown down by the Turks, for the sake of the gold which they expected to find in the joints.

Two or three mills and a few mud huts, inhabited by Turkish herdsmen, contain all the present population of Sardis.

* * * * *



MARTELLO TOWERS.



At a time when there appeared to be good reason for believing that the invasion of England was contemplated, the Government turned their attention to the defence of such portions of the coast as seemed to present the greatest facility for the landing of a hostile force. As the Kentish coast, from East Were Bay to Dymchurch, seemed more especially exposed, a line of Martello Towers was erected between these two points, at a distance from each other of from one-quarter to three-quarters of a mile. Other towers of the same kind were erected on various parts of the coast where the shore was low, in other parts of England, but more particularly in the counties of Sussex and Suffolk. Towers of this construction appear to have been adopted, owing to the resistance that was made by the Tower of Martella, in the Island of Corsica, to the British forces under Lord Hood and General Dundas, in 1794. This tower which was built in the form of an obtruncated cone—like the body of a windmill—was situated in Martella, or Martle Bay. As it rendered the landing of the troops difficult, Commodore Linzee anchored in the bay to the westward, and there landed the troops on the evening of the 7th of February, taking possession of a height that commanded the tower. As the tower impeded the advance of the troops, it was the next day attacked from the bay by the vessels Fortitude and Juno; but after a cannonade of two hours and a half, the ships were obliged to haul off, the Fortitude having sustained considerable damage from red-hot shot discharged from the tower. The tower, after having been cannonaded from the height for two days, surrendered; rather, it would appear, from the alarm of the garrison, than from any great injury that the tower had sustained. The English, on taking possession of the fort, found that the garrison had originally consisted of thirty-three men, of whom two only were wounded, though mortally. The walls were of great thickness, and bomb-proof; and the parapet consisted of an interior lining of rush matting, filled up to the exterior of the parapet with sand. The only guns they had were two 18-pounders.

The towers erected between East Were Bay and Dymchurch (upwards of twenty) were built of brick, and were from about 35 feet to 40 feet high: the entrance to them was by a low door-way, about seven feet and a half from the ground; and admission was gained by means of a ladder, which was afterwards withdrawn into the interior. A high step of two feet led to the first floor of the tower, a room of about thirteen feet diameter, and with the walls about five feet thick. Round this room were loopholes in the walls, at such an elevation, that the men would be obliged to stand on benches in the event of their being required to oppose an attack of musketry. Those benches were also used as the sleeping-places of the garrison. On this floor there was a fire-place, and from the centre was a trap-door leading downwards to the ammunition and provision rooms. The second floor was ascended by similar means.



* * * * *



TURKISH CUSTOMS.



Characteristically indolent, the fondness for a sedentary life is stronger, perhaps, with the Turks, than with any other people of whom we read. It is difficult to describe the gravity and apathy which constitute the distinguishing features of their character: everything in their manners tends to foster in them, especially in the higher classes, an almost invincible love of ease and luxurious leisure. The general rule which they seem to lay down for their guidance, is that taking the trouble to do anything themselves which they can possibly get others to do for them; and the precision with which they observe it in some of the minutest trifles of domestic life is almost amusing. A Turkish gentleman, who has once composed his body upon the corner of a sofa, appears to attach a certain notion of grandeur to the keeping of it there, and it is only something of the gravest importance that induces him to disturb his position. If he wishes to procure anything that is within a few steps of him, he summons his slaves by clapping his hands (the Eastern mode of "ringing the bell"), and bids them bring it to him: his feelings of dignity would be hurt by getting up to reach it himself. Of course, this habit of inaction prevails equally with the female sex: a Turkish lady would not think of picking up a fallen handkerchief, so long as she had an attendant to do it for her. As may be supposed, the number of slaves in a Turkish household of any importance is very great.



The position of women in Eastern countries is so totally unlike that which they hold in our own happy land, that we must refer expressly to it, in order that the picture of domestic life presented to us in the writings of all travellers in the East may be understood. Amongst all ranks, the wife is not the friend and companion, but the slave of her husband; and even when treated with kindness and affection, her state is still far below that of her sisters in Christian lands. Even in the humblest rank of life, the meal which the wife prepares with her own hands for her husband, she must not partake of with him. The hard-working Eastern peasant, and the fine lady who spends most of her time in eating sweet-meats, or in embroidery, are both alike dark and ignorant; for it would be accounted a folly, if not a sin, to teach them even to read.

Numerous carriers, or sellers of water, obtain their living in the East by supplying the inhabitants with it. They are permitted to fill their water-bags, made of goat-skins, at the public fountains. This goat-skin of the carrier has a long brass spout, and from this the water is poured into a brass cup, for any one who wishes to drink. Many of these are employed by the charitable, to distribute water in the streets; and they pray the thirsty to partake of the bounty offered to them in the name of God, praying that Paradise and pardon may be the lot of him who affords the refreshing gift.

[Illustrated: TURKISH WATER-CARRIER]

The Dancing Dervises are a religious order of Mohamedans, who affect a great deal of patience, humility, and charity. Part of their religious observance consists in dancing or whirling their bodies round with the greatest rapidity imaginable, to the sound of a flute; and long practice has enabled them to do this without suffering the least inconvenience from the strange movement.

In Eastern countries, the bread is generally made in the form of a large thin cake, which is torn and folded up, almost like a sheet of paper; it can then be used (as knives and forks are not employed by the Orientals) for the purpose of rolling together a mouthful of meat, or supping up gravy and vegetables, at the meals.



* * * * *



ON STUDY.

Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. The chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots, and marshalling of affairs, come best from those that are learned. To spend too much time in studies, is sloth; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation; to make judgment wholly by their rules, is the humour of a scholar. They perfect nature, and are perfected by experience; for natural abilities are like natural plants, that need pruning by duty; and studies themselves do give forth directions too much at large, except they be bounded in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise men use them: for they teach not their own use, but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted; not to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested: that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others; but that should be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sorts of books; else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And, therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not.

BACON.

* * * * *



THE SHORES OF GREECE.

He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled; The first dark day of nothingness. The last of danger and distress: Before Decay's effacing fingers, Have swept the lines where beauty lingers, And mark'd the mild, angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there; The fix'd, yet tender traits that streak The languor of the placid cheek.

And, but for that sad shrouded eye, That fires not—wins not—weeps not—now; And, but for that chill, changeless brow, Whose touch thrills with mortality, And curdles to the gazer's heart, As if to him it could impart The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon: Yes, but for these, and these alone Some moments—ay, one treacherous hour— He still might doubt the tyrant's power; So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd, The first, last look by death reveal'd.

Such is the aspect of this shore; 'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more! So coldly sweet—so deadly fair— We start, for soul is wanting there: Hers is the loveliness in death That parts not quite with parting breath; But beauty, with that fearful bloom, That hue which haunts it to the tomb: Expression's last receding ray, A gilded halo hovering round decay, The farewell beam of feeling past away! Spark of that flame—perchance of Heavenly birth, Which gleams, but warms no more its cherish'd earth!

BYRON.



* * * * *



THE FORT OF ATTOCK.



Attock is a fort and small town in the Punjaub, on the left or east bank of the Indus, 942 miles from the sea, and close below the place where it receives the water of the Khabool river, and first becomes navigable. The name, signifying obstacle, is supposed to have been given to it under the presumption that no scrupulous Hindoo would proceed westward of it; but this strict principle, like many others of similar nature, is little acted on. Some state that the name was given by the Emperor Akbar, because he here found much difficulty in crossing the river. The river itself is at this place frequently by the natives called Attock. Here is a bridge, formed usually of from twenty to thirty boats, across the stream, at a spot where it is 537 feet wide. In summer, when the melting of the snows in the lofty mountains to the north raises the stream so that the bridge becomes endangered, it is withdrawn, and the communication is then effected by means of a ferry.

The banks of the river are very high, so that the enormous accession which the volume of water receives during inundation scarcely affects the breadth, but merely increases the depth. The rock forming the banks is of a dark-coloured slate, polished by the force of the stream, so as to shine like black marble. Between these, "one clear blue stream shot past." The depth of the Indus here is thirty feet in the lowest state, and between sixty and seventy in the highest, and runs at the rate of six miles an hour. There is a ford at some distance above the confluence of the river of Khabool; but the extreme coldness and rapidity of the water render it at all times very dangerous, and on the slightest inundation quite impracticable. The bridge is supported by an association of boatmen, who receive the revenue of a village allotted for this purpose by the Emperor Akbar, and a small daily pay as long as the bridge stands, and also levy a toll on all passengers.

On the right bank, opposite Attock, is Khyrabad—a fort built, according to some, by the Emperor Akbar, according to others by Nadir Shah. This locality is, in a military and commercial point of view, of much importance, as the Indus is here crossed by the great route which, proceeding from Khabool eastward through the Khyber Pass into the Punjaub, forms the main line of communication between Affghanistan and Northern India. The river was here repeatedly crossed by the British armies, during the late military operations in Affghanistan; and here, according to the general opinion, Alexander, subsequently Timur, the Tartar conqueror, and, still later, Nadir Shah, crossed; but there is much uncertainty on these points.



The fortress was erected by the Emperor Akbar, in 1581 to command the passage; but, though strongly built of stone on the high and steep bank of the river, it could offer no effectual resistance to a regular attack, being commanded by the neighbouring heights. Its form is that of a parallelogram: it is 800 yards long and 400 wide. The population of the town, which is inclosed within the walls of the fort, is estimated at 2000.

* * * * *



THE ORDER OF NATURE.



See through this air, this ocean, and this earth, All matter quick, and bursting into birth. Above, how high progressive life may go! Around, how wide! how deep extend below! Vast chain of Being! which from God began, Natures ethereal, human, angel, man, Beast, bird, fish, insect, what no eye can see No glass can reach; from Infinity to thee From thee to Nothing.—On superior pow'rs Were we to press, inferior might on ours; Or in the full creation leave a void, Where one step broken the great scale's destroyed From Nature's chain whatever link you strike, Tenth or ten-thousandth, breaks the chain alike.

And, if each system in gradation roll Alike essential to th' amazing whole, The least confusion but in one, not all That system only, but the whole must fall. Let earth unbalanc'd from her orbit fly, Planets and suns run lawless through the sky; Let ruling angels from their spheres be hurl'd, Being on being wreck'd, and world on world, Heav'n's whole foundations to the centre nod, And Nature trembles to the throne of God: All this dread Order break—for whom? for thee? Vile worm!—Oh, madness! pride! impiety!

What if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread, Or hand to toil, aspired to be the head? What if the head, the eye, or ear, repined To serve—mere engines to the ruling Mind? Just as absurd for any part to claim To be another, in this general frame: Just as absurd to mourn the tasks or pains, The great directing Mind of All ordains.

All are but parts of one stupendous whole Whose body Nature is, and God the Soul: That changed through all, and yet in all the same, Great is in earth as in th' ethereal frame, Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees, Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent; Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns: To him no high, no low, no great, no small; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.

Cease then, nor Order Imperfection name: Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. Know thy own point: This kind, this due degree Of blindness, weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee. Submit—in this, or any other sphere, Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear: Safe in the hand of one disposing Pow'r Or in the natal, or the mortal hour. All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee; All Chance, Direction which thou canst not see; All Discord, Harmony not understood; All partial Evil, universal Good: And, spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spite, One truth is clear, WHATEVER is, is RIGHT.

POPE.

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LORD CLARENDON.



This celebrated statesman, who flourished in the reigns of Charles I. and II., took a prominent part in the eventful times in which he lived. He was not of noble birth, but the descendant of a family called Hyde, which resided from a remote period at Norbury, in Cheshire. He was originally intended for the church, but eventually became a lawyer, applying himself to the study of his profession with a diligence far surpassing that of the associates with whom he lived. In 1635, he attracted the notice of Archbishop Laud, which may be regarded as the most fortunate circumstance of his life, as it led to his introduction to Charles I. In consequence of the ability displayed by him in the responsible duties he was called to perform, that Monarch offered him the office of Solicitor-General. But this Hyde declined, preferring, as he said, to serve the King in an unofficial capacity. After the battle of Naseby, Hyde was appointed one of the council formed to attend, watch over, and direct the Prince of Wales. After hopelessly witnessing for many months a course of disastrous and ill-conducted warfare in the West, the council fled with the Prince, first to the Scilly Islands, near Cornwall, and thence to Jersey. From this place, against the wishes of Hyde, the Prince, in 1640, repaired to his mother, Henrietta, at Paris, leaving Hyde at Jersey, where he remained for two years, engaged in the composition of his celebrated "History of the Rebellion." In May, 1648, Hyde was summoned to attend the Prince at the Hague; and here they received the news of the death of Charles I., which is said to have greatly appalled them. After faithfully following the new King in all his vicissitudes of fortune, suffering at times extreme poverty, he attained at the Restoration the period of his greatest power. In 1660, his daughter Anne was secretly married to the Duke of York; but when, after a year, it was openly acknowledged, the new Lord Chancellor received the news with violent demonstrations of indignation and grief. Hyde, in fact, never showed any avidity for emoluments or distinction; but when this marriage was declared, it became desirable that some mark of the King's favour should be shown, and he was created Earl of Clarendon. He subsequently, from political broils, was compelled to exile himself from the Court, and took up his residence at Montpellier, where, resuming his literary labours, he completed his celebrated History, and the memoir of his life. After fruitlessly petitioning King Charles II. for permission to end his days in England, the illustrious exile died at Rouen, in 1674, in the sixty-fifth year of his age.



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OWLS.



It is now generally known that the Owl renders the farmer important service, by ridding him of vermin, which might otherwise consume the produce of his field; but in almost every age and country it has been regarded as a bird of ill omen, and sometimes even as the herald of death. In France, the cry or hoot is considered as a certain forerunner of misfortune to the hearer. In Tartary, the owl is looked upon in another light, though not valued as it ought to be for its useful destruction of moles, rats, and mice. The natives pay it great respect, because they attribute to this bird the preservation of the founder of their empire, Genghis Khan. That Prince, with his army, happened to be surprised and put to flight by his enemies, and was forced to conceal himself in a little coppice. An owl settled on the bush under which he was hid, and his pursuers did not search there, as they thought it impossible the bird would perch on a place where any man was concealed. Thenceforth his countrymen held the owl to be a sacred bird, and every one wore a plume of its feathers on his head.

One of the smallest of the owl tribe utters but one melancholy note now and then. The Indians in North America whistle whenever they chance to hear the solitary note; and if the bird does not very soon repeat his harmless cry, the speedy death of the superstitious hearer is foreboded. It is hence called the death bird. The voices of all carnivorous birds and beasts are harsh, and at times hideous; and probably, like that of the owl, which, from the width and capacity of its throat, is in some varieties very powerful, may be intended as an alarm and warning to the birds and animals on which they prey, to secure themselves from the approach of their stealthy foe.

Owls are divided into two groups or families—one having two tufts of feathers on the head, which have been called ears or horns, and are moveable at pleasure, the others having smooth round heads without tufts. The bills are hooked in both. There are upwards of sixty species of owls widely spread over almost every part of the known world; of these we may count not fewer than eight as more or less frequenting this country. One of the largest of the tribe is the eagle hawk, or great horned owl, the great thickness of whose plumage makes it appear nearly as large as the eagle. Some fine preserved specimens of this noble-looking bird may be seen in the British Museum. It is a most powerful bird; and a specimen was captured, with great difficulty, in 1837, when it alighted upon the mast-head of a vessel off Flamborough-head.

The amiable naturalist, Mr. Waterton, who took especial interest in the habits of the owl, writes thus on the barn owl:—"This pretty aerial wanderer of the night often comes into my room, and, after flitting to and fro, on wing so soft and silent that he is scarcely heard, takes his departure from the same window at which he had entered. I own I have a great liking for the bird; and I have offered it hospitality and protection on account of its persecutions, and for its many services to me; I wish that any little thing I could write or say might cause it to stand better with the world than it has hitherto done."



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CHATTERTON.



This gifted young poet was the son of a schoolmaster at Bristol, where he was born, in 1752. On the 24th of August, 1770, he was found dead, near a table covered with the scraps of writings he had destroyed, in a miserable room in Brook-street, Holborn. In Redcliffe churchyard, Bristol, a beautiful monument has been erected to the memory of the unfortunate poet.

O God! whose thunders shake the sky, Whose eye this atom globe surveys, To Thee, my only rock, I fly— Thy mercy in thy justice praise.

Oh, teach me in the trying hour, When anguish swells the dewy tear, To still my sorrows, own Thy power, Thy goodness love, Thy justice fear.

Ah! why, my soul, dost thou complain, Why, drooping, seek the dark recess? Shake off the melancholy chain, For God created all to bless.

But, ah! my breast is human still: The rising sigh, the falling tear, My languid vitals' feeble rill, The sickness of my soul declare.

CHATTERTON.

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SMYRNA.



This city and sea-port of Natolia, in Asia, is situate towards the northern part of a peninsula, upon a long and winding gulf of the same name, which is capable of containing the largest navy in the world. The city is about four miles round, presenting a front of a mile long to the water; and when approached by sea, it resembles a capacious amphitheatre with the ruins of an ancient castle crowning its summit. The interior of the city, however, disappoints the expectations thus raised, for the streets are narrow, dirty, and ill-paved, and there is now scarcely a trace of those once splendid edifices which rendered Smyrna one of the finest cities in Asia Minor. The shops are arched over, and have a handsome appearance: in spite of the gloom which the houses wear, those along the shore have beautiful gardens attached to them, at the foot of which are summer-houses overhanging the sea. The city is subject to earthquakes and the plague, which latter, in 1814, carried off above 50,000 of the inhabitants.

About midnight, in July, 1841, a fire broke out at Smyrna, which, from the crowded state of the wooden houses, the want of water, and the violence of the wind, was terribly destructive. About 12,000 houses were destroyed, including two-thirds of the Turkish quarter, most of the French and the whole of the Jewish quarters, with many bazaars and several mosques, synagogues, and other public buildings. It was calculated that 20,000 persons were deprived of shelter and food, and the damage was estimated at two millions sterling.



The fine port of Smyrna is frequented by ships from all nations, freighted with valuable cargoes, both outward and inward. The greater part of the trading transactions is managed by Jews, who act as brokers, the principals meeting afterwards to conclude the bargains.

In 1402 Smyrna was taken by Tamerlane, and suffered very severely. The conqueror erected within its walls a tower constructed of stones and the heads of his enemies. Soon after, it came under the dominion of the Turks, and has been subsequently the most flourishing city in the Levant, exporting and importing valuable commodities to and from all parts of the world.

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GENTLENESS.



I begin with distinguishing true gentleness from passive tameness of spirit, and from unlimited compliance with the manners of others. That passive tameness which submits, without opposition, to every encroachment of the violent and assuming, forms no part of Christian duty; but, on the contrary, is destructive of general happiness and order. That unlimited complaisance, which on every occasion falls in with the opinions and manners of others, is so far from being a virtue, that it is itself a vice, and the parent of many vices. It overthrows all steadiness of principle; and produces that sinful conformity with the world which taints the whole character. In the present corrupted state of human manners, always to assent and to comply is the very worst maxim we can adopt. It is impossible to support the purity and dignity of Christian morals without opposing the world on various occasions, even though we should stand alone. That gentleness, therefore, which belongs to virtue, is to be carefully distinguished from the mean spirit of cowards, and the fawning assent of sycophants. It renounces no just right from fear. It gives up no important truth from flattery. It is indeed not only consistent with a firm mind, but it necessarily requires a manly spirit, and a fixed principle, in order to give it any real value. Upon this solid ground only, the polish of gentleness can with advantage be superinduced.

It stands opposed, not to the most determined regard for virtue and truth, but to harshness and severity, to pride and arrogance, to violence and oppression. It is properly that part of the great virtue of charity, which makes us unwilling to give pain to any of our brethren. Compassion prompts us to relieve their wants. Forbearance prevents us from retaliating their injuries. Meekness restrains our angry passions; candour, our severe judgments. Gentleness corrects whatever is offensive in our manners, and, by a constant train of humane attentions, studies to alleviate the burden of common misery. Its office, therefore, is extensive. It is not, like some other virtues, called forth only on peculiar emergencies; but it is continually in action, when we are engaged in intercourse with men. It ought to form our address, to regulate our speech, and to diffuse itself over our whole behaviour.

We must not, however, confound this gentle "wisdom which is from above" with that artificial courtesy, that studied smoothness of manners, which is learned in the school of the world. Such accomplishments the most frivolous and empty may possess. Too often they are employed by the artful as a snare; too often affected by the hard and unfeeling as a cover to the baseness of their minds. We cannot, at the same time, avoid observing the homage, which, even in such instances, the world is constrained to pay to virtue. In order to render society agreeable, it is found necessary to assume somewhat that may at least carry its appearance. Virtue is the universal charm. Even its shadow is courted, when the substance is wanting. The imitation of its form has been reduced into an art; and in the commerce of life, the first study of all who would either gain the esteem or win the hearts of others, is to learn the speech and to adopt the manners of candour, gentleness, and humanity. But that gentleness which is the characteristic of a good man has, like every other virtue, its seat in the heart; and let me add, nothing except what flows from the heart can render even external manners truly pleasing. For no assumed behaviour can at all times hide the real character. In that unaffected civility which springs from a gentle mind there is a charm infinitely more powerful than in all the studied manners of the most finished courtier.

True gentleness is founded on a sense of what we owe to HIM who made us, and to the common nature of which we all share. It arises from reflections on our own failings and wants, and from just views of the condition and the duty of man. It is native feeling heightened and improved by principle. It is the heart which easily relents; which feels for every thing that is human, and is backward and slow to inflict the least wound. It is affable in its address, and mild in its demeanour; ever ready to oblige, and willing to be obliged by others; breathing habitual kindness towards friends, courtesy to strangers, long-suffering to enemies. It exercises authority with moderation; administers reproof with tenderness; confers favours with ease and modesty. It is unassuming in opinion, and temperate in zeal. It contends not eagerly about trifles; slow to contradict, and still slower to blame; but prompt to allay dissension and to restore peace. It neither intermeddles unnecessarily with the affairs, nor pries inquisitively into the secrets of others. It delights above all things to alleviate distress; and if it cannot dry up the falling tear, to sooth at least, the grieving heart. Where it has not the power of being useful, it is never burdensome. It seeks to please rather than to shine and dazzle, and conceals with care that superiority, either of talent or of rank, which is oppressive to those who are beneath it. In a word, it is that spirit and that tenour of manners which the Gospel of Christ enjoins, when it commands us "to bear one another's burdens; to rejoice with those who rejoice, and to weep with those who weep; to please every one his neighbour for his good; to be kind and tender-hearted; to be pitiful and courteous; to support the weak, and to be patient towards all men."

BLAIR.

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THE IGUANA.

The Iguana (Cyclura colei) is not only of singular aspect, but it may be regarded as the type of a large and important group in the Saurian family, which formed so conspicuous a feature in the ancient fauna of this country. The iguana attains a large size in Jamaica, whence the present specimen was obtained, not unfrequently approaching four feet in length. In colour it is a greenish grey. It is entirely herbivorous, as are all its congeners. Its principal haunt in Jamaica is the low limestone chain of hills, along the shore from Kingston Harbour and Goat Island, on to its continuation in Vere.