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If our readers have not been convinced by all that has been said, of the importance of thumbs to mankind, we can only wish that they may have a touch of whitlow in the organ. If they do not then attain a full sense of its influence over their earthly happiness, we are no conjurors. But it is to be hoped that conviction will be attained without such a trial. As to our present paper, all our hope rests on its being well thumbed. If such be the result of the judgment of our readers, we shall be heartily satisfied.

WELLINGTON AND THE PAINTER OF
NAPOLEON.

IN the whole annals of Napoleon Bonaparte, there is nothing so touching as the fidelity evinced towards him in his adversity by many of those who had shared the good fortune of his earlier days. The time is come when we can look on the career of the wonderful Corsican with some degree of impartiality, and can do justice to such traits of personal devotion as those alluded to, which are rendered the more remarkable by the numerous instances recorded in history of an opposite line of behaviour. Among those most attached to Napoleon, alike in his prosperity and adversity, David the painter held a prominent place. He was the favourite artist of the emperor, and showed, by his pictures of Belisarius, of Socrates, of Brutus, of the Horatii, of the Passover, of Leonidas, and finally of the Crossing of the Alps and Coronation of Napoleon, that, as an artist at least, he well merited the patronage of his master. After the coronation picture, just mentioned, had been finished, Napoleon went to see it in the studio of the artist. The courtiers who

were with him, being all of them well acquainted with David, addressed him with congratulations of a very familiar kind on his success. The emperor checked them, observing, in that pointed manner which gave a historical force to many of his sayings, "Gentlemen, be aware that M. David is a baron of the empire"-the first announcement which the painter had had of the honour intended for him.

David, as has been said, repaid the favour and friendship of Napoleon with the profoundest admiration and reverence. It may be supposed, therefore, that the disastrous events of 1814 and 1815 were productive to him of unmitigated sorrow. He also suffered personally from the change of affairs, being proscribed and compelled to fly from France. He remained, however, as near its confines as possible, Brussels being the place where he took up his residence. Shortly after the final downfall of his old master in 1815, an incident took place which seems to us to have something affecting in it, and to be worthy of relation.

David continued his artistical labours at Brussels. Indeed, within a few months he collected round him a number of young painters, who sought with avidity his instructions in art. From the stirring nature of the scenes in which he had passed his life, he was enabled to mingle his professional lessons with numberless anecdotes, both personal and historical, and these he always managed to make interesting, in spite of an impediment in utterance with which he was afflicted. He had received this mishap in a curious way. While prosecuting his schoolboy studies, being very poorly provided with money, he was obliged to board with people of the humblest grade; and the wife of his landlord, on one occasion when he was, as she thought, improperly talkative, struck him a smart blow on the cheek with a table-spoon. The consequence was, that a swelling arose on the interior, which lasted through life, and materially obstructed the movements of his tongue in articulation. The matter, however, of the painter's converse made up for all defects of manner. Above all others, Napoleon was his favourite theme, and one of which he never wearied. Fond regret mingled with his recollections of the emperor. Nor did David check himself in his discourse on account of any particular individuals who might be present. Princes, nobles, and other august personages, sometimes visited the painter's studio, and however unpalateable the subject might be, were compelled to listen with patience to David's laudatory reminiscences of the emperor.

The Duke of Wellington, generalissimo of the allied armies, and special inspector of the Low Country fortresses, came to Brussels. Being well aware of the presence of David in the city, he formed the resolution of visiting the artist and getting a portrait of himself executed. With this view he entered his carriage, accompanied by several of his officers, and desired the coach man to drive to David's house, " Rue Fossé-auxLoups."

On stopping before the little green gate of the painter, the duke and his company were at once admitted. They were shown into a dining-room, decorated in a more splendid way, in one respect, than the halls of monarchs. Pictures, from the hand of David, covered the walls of the apartment, and in almost all of them Napoleon and his deeds formed the subject. In one place he was seen scaling the Alps, in form and appearance the same as when the ancient sides of these mountains echoed in reality to " young Bonaparte's battle-cry." In another place he was seen in his imperial cabinet, dictating missives on which hung the fate of nations. All around the apartment, in short, the English visiters saw the lineaments of their late great enemy.

Madame David was informed by her domestic that

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an English party sought admission to the presence of the painter, and she went to her husband's studio to know whether or not he would see them. Yes," said he, in reply to her; "admit them here." Although he said so, however, a change came over his countenance, which indicated that the name of the English was not associated in his mind with agreeable emotions. He was at the moment engaged in painting his fine picture of Eucharis and Telemachus, and it was perhaps to dispel the feeling which had been excited by Madame David's announcement, that, after answering her, he turned again to his task. He had his pallette in one hand, and his brush elevated in the other, when the Duke of Wellington and his attendants entered the studio. David had already become so re-absorbed in his occupation, that he did not turn immediately round; but a movement of the visiters soon made him aware of their presence, and he turned his face to them. Then, for the first time, he saw their uniforms, and knew they were soldiers. "Gentlemen," said he, bowing slightly, "to whom have I the honour of speaking?" The chief of the party answered, "I am the Duke of Wellington."

At that name, the old painter-for he was now sixty-seven grew first red and then pale, showing how much he was moved by the presence of the conqueror of his master and hero. He recovered himself, however, and said, in a coldly civil tone, " In what can I serve you?"

Madame David, who had come to the door of the studio with the visiters, now retired, with some apprehension of a disagreeable scene.

"I was desirous," said the duke, in reply to the artist's question, "to see a painter so celebrated; and as you have painted Bonaparte"

"You mean the emperor," said David, interrupting his visiter hastily, and reddening with anger. "Precisely," returned the duke; "and I came to beg that you would execute a likeness of myself." The old painter looked at the duke fixedly for a few moments, and then, with additional coldness in his manner, he said, "You know that I paint history only."

"Well," returned the duke, with a smile, "I am no personage of romance. You have celebrated with your pencil the features of--this great man," pointing to a figure of Napoleon, "and I, too, am ambitious to be painted by you."

"Sir," replied the artist, with a mixture of emotions legible on his countenance, "I do not paint the English-I cannot paint the English !"

David averted his head as he spoke. Seeing the strength of the feelings which actuated him, the Duke of Wellington and his party retired in silence. The duke was evidently disappointed, but he was in all likelihood disposed also, in some measure, to respect the emotions of the old painter of Napoleon. David could not paint the overthrower of his master and friend.

A FEW WEEKS FROM HOME. CARLISLE-RAILWAY TO NEWCASTLE.

smoking away in the most spirited manner. From a cotton-mill of uncommonly large dimensions lying south from the town, there rises a chimney, of an ele gant octagonal form, to the height of 305 feet, and which is visible as far as Annan and places more remote in Dumfriesshire. Like most other towns of an improving character, Carlisle, as we were glad to learn, possesses a Mechanics' Institution for popular instruction, which is pretty well supported, though only to a very limited extent by the class of artisans for whose immediate benefit it was designed; of upwards of 200 members, we were told there were only from sixty to seventy belonging to the body of operative tradesmen. In this, however, there is nothing peculiar, as the same thing may be said of every mechanics' institution and school of arts in the kingdom. Lately, a handsome stone building has been erected by subscription shares, for the accommodation of the Mechanics' Institution and Literary and Philosophical Institution of Carlisle. This large edifice had been opened only a day or two previous to our visit, and we had an opportunity of inspecting its large lecturing hall on the occasion of an annual meeting and concert. It is a room of spacious dimensions, calculated to accommodate perhaps 700 or 800 people, and altogether creditable to the town, although the arrangements for lighting are certainly on a mean and defective scale, and a little taste might have rendered it much more convenient in different respects. The want of a lecture-room having been long felt in Carlisle, this, with all its deficiences, will prove of great value to the inhabitants; and we heartily wish that every town of the same size in Britain possessed a similar establishment.

The most gratifying of the local sights in and about Carlisle is that of the railway, which stretches castward to Newcastle, connecting the eastern and western scas, and passing through a country fifty-six miles in extent, rich in coal, sandstone, and other mineral products. This railway, in its central portion, pursues a line very nearly the same as that of the Roman Wall built by Severus, and which extended from the Solway Firth to the mouth of the Tyne, to protect his conquests in Britain from the northern Picts, but of which no vestige now remains, except a carefully preserved fragment at a few miles' distance from Newcastle. The Newcastle and Carlisle Railway Company was constituted in 1829, but not with a view to using locomotive carriages; these have been introduced by virtue of a more recent act of Parliament. The western termination of the railway is at the basin of a short canal, which extends to the Solway; but passengers and general traffic centre at a principal depot or station outside the town, on the London road, and near the spot formerly used as the place of execu tion-the famous Hairibee. How strange to reflect on the border rievers who here said their "neckverse" in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and on the gallant and devoted men who more recently expiated on the same spot their rash efforts in behalf of the exiled Stuarts, and then consider that now the ground forms the site of a railway station! What an altered world we live in !

Driving into the capacious yard of the depôt, we are speedily placed in one of the carriages on the line, WE lately had occasion, in the course of a journey and off on our journey, with our face turned towards southwards, to pass a few hours in Carlisle, and to the cast, at the rate of at least twenty miles an hour. proceed thence to Newcastle by the railway which is The first object of interest on the route is Corby now established between these two ancient towns. Bridge, a lofty erection thrown across the Eden, both Carlisle is a city of some interest, and enjoys a beau- up and down which we have a view of a most beautiful tiful situation on a fertile plain about ten or twelve vale, overhung with heavy masses of wood, and dotted miles from the borders of Scotland, whose blue hills over with villages and old structures peeping from may be seen from it on the northern horizon, while amidst the trees. Very near to the bridge, on looking those of Cumberland, amidst which the famed roman- up the river, is seen the old church of Wetheral in the tic lakes are situated, are equally visible as a south-early English style, with its adjacent and aged hamlet. westerly boundary. Through the midst of this varied On the opposite bank of the broad and clear running green plain winds the Eden, a river about the size of stream, and on the brink of a stupendous woody cliff, the Tweed, and which, a few miles to the westward, is Corby Castle, the seat of Henry Howard, Esq. falls into the Solway Firth, whose flat expanse and Both the house and grounds, as well as a curiosity broad sandy shores are seen from the higher grounds called St Constantine's Cell, are esteemed highly of the neighbourhood. worthy of a visit by strangers. It appears that David Hume visited this part of the country in 1750; and the following lines, written by him on a pane of glass at the Old Bush Inn at Carlisle, were communicated to Mr Howard by Sir Walter Scott :

On entering Carlisle from the Scottish side, and crossing the long stone bridge which is thrown over the Eden, the eye is attracted by the walls and turrets of the old castle, placed on a broad green mound or low hill, which rises from a pretty piece of meadowland on our right, and flanks the town on its northwestern quarter. Excepting the red-stone walls of the castle, still in good preservation, and enclosing some modern erections, and also the massive tower of the cathedral, rising from the centre of the town in front, one does not now perceive any striking marks of antiquity in the place. Formerly, the city was strongly fortified with walls and gates, but these have completely disappeared, and their place is now occupied with rows of villas and streets of modern date and aspect. Although there is no deficiency of stone in the neighbourhood, the town is built of red brick, after the usual English fashion, and it is only lately that an improved taste has introduced a few handsome edifices of yellow sandstone.

Until a comparatively recent period, Carlisle manifested few symptoms of advancement. It was usually esteemed to be a dull old-fashioned place, possessing the dignity of being the seat of a bishop, but without any great trade or traffic to put money in the pockets of its worthy inhabitants. This state of things is mending. For a number of years its manufacturing industry has been on the increase, and now the town may boast of possessing several cotton and other factories, each ornamented with its tall chimney, and

"Here chicks, in eggs for breakfast, sprawl;
Here godless boys God's glories squall;
While Scotsmen's heads adorn the wall;
But Corby's walks atone for all."

The train dashing on in its headlong speed, leaves only a moment or two for a glance over this beauteous vale, and soon brings us to a viaduct of several high arches across another valley; thence through cuttings, and along embankments, till we arrive at the most remarkable work on the whole line, called Cowran Cut. From the soft and moist nature of the soil, this hill, it appears, could not be easily tunnelled, and it has been cut sheer down from the summit to a depth of 100 feet by a length of 1500 feet, leaving a gap of about 300 feet in breadth overhead. In the course of cutting the hill, which is chiefly of fine sand, marine shells were found in the centre at a depth of 80 feet from the surface, making it evident that the high ground was only a heap of matter silted from a sea, beneath which this part of Cumberland had formerly reposed. Proceeding onwards, we cross the river Gelt by a skew bridge of great architectural beauty, and looking down we perceive the water tumbling over a rough rocky bed, by the side of ancient quarries. The scenery below is wild and romantic. Amongst the rocks, as we are informed, is one called the " Written

Crag," so named from an inscription on the face of it, left, as is supposed, by a party of the Second Roman Legion, who procured from this place the stones used in the erection of the wall of Severus. The line now proceeds across Helbeck Valley, and is shortly crossed by the railway from the coal-pits of the Earl of Carlisle. At about the thirteenth mile-post, and on our left hand side, we pass Naworth Castle, and beyond it, in the same northerly direction, the ruins of Lanercost Priory; both, however, scarcely, if at all, visible from the train, but to those who can spare time, highly worthy of patient examination. This may be called the country of the Howards and Dacres, two powerful families on the western marches. Lord William Howard, warden of these marches in the middle of the sixteenth century, kept 140 soldiers in his garrison of Naworth, and executed prompt justice on the borderers. Under the name of "Belted Willie," by which he was called from a studded belt which he always wore above his armour, he was long held in fear in the neighbourhood. The castle, which has been modernised in many parts, is still in excellent preservation. Lanercost Priory was one of the most important monastic institutions within the English border, and frequently suffered from the ruthless hands of Scotch invaders.

three fellows, disguised and variously armed, started
from a moss-bog, while other two stout men appeared
behind him at some distance. The borderer lost not
a moment in taking his resolution, and boldly trotted
against his enemies in front, who called loudly on him
to stand and deliver. Charlie spurred on, and pre-
sented his pistol, but its appearance only excited the
contempt of the foremost robber. Ay, lad,' said the
deep voice of Fighting Charlie, but the tow's out now.'
He had no occasion to utter another word; the rogues,
surprised at finding a man of redoubted courage well
armed, instead of being defenceless, took to the moss
in every direction, and he passed on his way without
farther molestation."

Meg of Mumps's Hall, as we learn, lived to the extreme age of ninety-seven, and lies interred in the small churchyard which crowns the height a little farther to the eastward. Having now got beyond the lower vales of Cumberland, and reached the region which intervenes betwixt them and the slopes of the Tyne on the Northumbrian side, we observe a general upland appearance; the country is more bare, the farm establishments are generally on a small scale, and the houses are built of a darkish grey stone, and roofed with the same material, which gives them a poor and cold aspect. Close by a cluster of farm Proceeding onwards a few miles, we are brought to offices of this description, and on the top of a round a broken part of the country, with winding valleys knoll on our left, we perceive the ruin of Thirland green woody knolls, upon one of which, on our wall Castle, an ancient border keep, and afterwards left, and at the distance of half a mile, is situated reach the Greenhead and Halt whistle stations. Near Gilsland, a rather famous and fashionable watering- the latter, the railway enters the flat vale of the place in this quarter of the world. There are several Tyne, here a mere rivulet, and, crossing to its left houses for the accommodation of visiters, the chief bank, we keep that side of the stream for some time, of which is a hotel or boarding-house of large size, afterwards cross to the right, and finally cross again placed at the head of a sloping bank, with a pleasant to the left near Newcastle. The crossings are by subsouthern exposure. The mineral waters of Gilsland stantial wooden bridges, and in one place in this porare various in quality. One contains principally sul- tion of the line, the railway is carried by a tunnel of phuretted hydrogen with a lesser proportion of car- 200 yards through a hill which appears to intercept its bonic acid; in its solid contents, common salt and soda progress. As we proceed eastwards from this point, are the chief ingredients. The other, or chalybeate the appearance of the country improves, the villages spring, contains sulphate of iron in a strong propor- become larger and more numerous, and smoke and tion, carbonate of magnesia, and sulphate of lime. tall chimneys begin to show themselves. We are fast Not very far from Gilsland, and also on the north getting into a new country. Emerging from the of the line, a house of humble pretensions is pointed patches of crag and woodland on the south side of the out by the name of "Mumps's Hall," being, it is said, Tyne, the train is swiftly brought into the more open the veritable "house of entertainment for man and space of ground, near which on our right rises the horse," celebrated in Guy Mannering as the scene of ancient town of Hexham, the only considerable place the first meeting between Brown, Dandie Dinmont, on the whole route. Hexham is an old dingy red and Meg Merrilees. The circumstances in every re- town, running along the summit of a low eminence, spect countenance the supposition; for the house was whose sides slope downwards to the plain of the Tyne, long kept by "Meg of Mumps's Hall," as she was and are richly embellished with gardens, the whole styled, and is placed on the borders of a trackless flat being backed by hills to the south and west. In the waste, little reclaimed in the present day, and extend- midst of the houses rises the square turret of the ing northwards to the hills of Liddesdale. The tra-church, one of the oldest in the country. The district ditional stories related as occurring here, and the wild around is considered as the finest in any part of and reckless characters by which this part of the Northumberland; the sheltered situation and fertility country was once infested, combined to render Mumps's of the soil render the land available for large crops Hall a place of evil reputation; and as such it must of fruit and vegetables, which are furnished to the have fallen under the notice of Sir Walter Scott dur- Newcastle market, a distance of twenty miles. The ing his visit to Gilsland, where, it may be remembered, railway has further afforded the means of enrichment he met and became attached to the lady who after- from trade and commerce. The town has long been wards accepted him as her husband. In this cha- famous for its manufacture of leather, particularly racter it is alluded to as follows, in the Notes to the gloves, of which 24,000 pairs are made annually. This new edition of Guy Mannering: :branch of trade gives employment to a great number of persons of both sexes, and of all ages.

"There is, or rather I should say there was, a little inn, called Mumps's Hall, that is, being interpreted, Shortly after leaving Hexham, the line passes on Beggars' Hotel, near to Gilsland, which had not then the north of a fine old ruin called Dilston Hall, once attained its present fame as a spa. It was a hedge the property of the Earl of Derwentwater, whose alehouse, where the border farmers of both countries accession to the Rebellion of 1715 lost him his fine often stopped to refresh themselves and their nags in estates in this quarter, and also his life. A modern their way to and from the fairs and trysts in Cumber- mansion for the factor, employed by the Commissioners land, and especially those who came from or went to for Greenwich Hospital, to whom the property was Scotland through a barren and lonely district, with- assigned, is now placed amidst the remains of the old out either road or pathway, emphatically called the edifice. The old town of Corbridge is next seen, on a Waste of Bewcastle. At the period when the adven-height to the north of the river. At a short distance tures described in the novel are supposed to have taken another tunnel is penetrated, and a few miles farther place, there were many instances of attacks by free- on, we pass on our right the imposing remains of booters on those who travelled through this wild dis- Prudhoe Castle, one of the largest ruins of the kind in trict, and Mumps's Ha' had a bad reputation for the country. The walls, turrets, and heaps of fracharbouring the banditti who committed such depre- tured building, occupy a large space, on the top of a dations. An old and sturdy yeoman, belonging to steep promontory, which communicates with the adthe Scottish side, by surname an Armstrong or Elliot, jacent grounds by a narrow neck of land stretching but well known by his soubriquet of Fighting Charlie towards the south. This ancient and shattered for of Liddesdale, had the following adventure in the tress belongs to the family of Northumberland. Waste. Charlie had been at Stagshawbank fair, had sold his sheep or cattle, or whatever he had brought to market, and was on his return to Liddesdale. There were then no country banks where cash could be deposited and bills received instead. The robbers had spies in the fair, by means of which they generally knew whose purse was best stocked, and who took a lonely and desolate road homeward-those, in short, who were best worth robbing, and likely to be most easily robbed. All this Charlie knew full well; but he had a pair of excellent pistols, and a dauntless heart. He stopped at Mumps's Ha', notwithstanding the evil character of the place, and, after a short delay for refreshment to himself and worse, proceeded on his journey. Having proceeded a few miles, he examined his pistols, and tried by the ramrod whether the charge remained in them, and resolved to reload them lest the powder had become damp; but what was his surprise when crew the charge, to find neither powder nor ball, we each barrel had been carefully filled with tou up to the space which the loading had occupied. Charlie now perceived that the landlady of Mumps's Ha' had withdrawn the charge, and he reloaded his weapons with care and accuracy, having now no doubt that he was to be waylaid and assaulted. fle was not far engaged in the Waste, when two or

After we have passed Prudhoe, the railway gets into a flattish district close by the river, and the dense masses of smoke that encumber the atmosphere, make it quite plain that we have reached the great and busy seat of the coal trade, as well as of divers manufactures which distinguish the lower valley of the Tyne, and of which Newcastle is the centre. Passing the village of Scotswood, we shortly cross the river by an excellent long bridge, and are set down in a depot on the western outskirts of Newcastle, from which an omnibus carries us to our place of destination in the town.

The journey which we have attempted to describe, occupies three hours by the quickest trains, and four hours by those of a mixed kind. Formerly, before the establishment of the railway, the only public conveyances betwixt Newcastle and Carlisle were a couple of stage-coaches, and these were not always full. Now, there are six trains from each end daily, each train consisting of from four to eight carriages, and each carriage holding eighteen passengers. It is therefore clear that the railway, as is always the case, has created communication in this part of the country, on an a traffic for itself, and led to a large system of personal entirely new footing. But the traffic in goods is also of no mean amount; and here we are called on to ob

serve the beneficial tendency of railways on places coming within the sphere of their operations. The increasing population of Newcastle, and the new sources of trade opening up all around it, call for an increasing supply of food, as well as of sundry materials for manufacturing purposes, produced at a distance. In this trade of supply, the country around Dumfries, and also the north of Ireland, have largely benefited. The rapid transit of goods, by steamvessels from Belfast to the Solway, and thence by railway to Newcastle, has the effect of causing a continual importation of Irish produce to this busy seat of population. Newcastle, therefore, is now a liberal customer for the pork, bacon, butter, and other articles, produced by the farmers and peasantry of Antrim. As an instance of what is doing in this way, we were informed that one merchant alone in Newcastle, imported twenty tons of bacon weekly from Belfast-a species of trade that had no existence a few years ago, and which could not now be carried on but for the railway, which has connected the Tyne with the western sea. There can be little doubt that, considerable as the trade is, it is still but in its infancy. Newcastle is becoming one of the most populous, as it is already one of the most wealthy, of English seaport and manufacturing towns, and all lines of traffic connected with it will both aid in its increase and enjoy a share of its prosperity.*

SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

THE SNAIL.

"It cometh forth in April showers,
Lies snug when storms prevail;

It feeds on fruits, it sleeps on flowers-
I would I were a snail."

THE poet Montgomery gives this curt and happy de-
scription of the habits of the creature to which we
wish the reader's attention to be drawn in the present
paper. The snail belongs to the Molluscous division
of the animal kingdom, being among those varieties of
it characterised by the possession of a head and shelly
coverings. With regard to the proper scientific sub-
division of this great family to which the snail belongs,
it is only necessary here to state, that the animal forms
a particular genus (Helix) in the Pulmoniferous section
of the Gastropods, two words which indicate the pos-
session of specific respiratory organs, and of a foot,
or something serving that purpose, on the under or
abdominal region of the body. This, at least, is the
arrangement of the naturalist Cuvier. There are
numerous varieties of the snail; and these are distin
guished from one another by the colours of the shell
and body, as well as by other particulars. Brown,
grey, green, black, and white species are found in
different countries, and in Britain alone many indi-
vidual varieties exist. They have many characters in
common, however; and in speaking of the habits of
our indigenous garden-snail (Helix pomatia, the type
of the tribe), the remarks made will apply generally
to a large proportion of the whole family.

The garden-snail is an oviparous animal. It lays a great number of eggs at one time, and hides them in the earth with particular care. They are round in shape, of a white tint, and are attached one to another, by a gelatinous or slimy fluid. At the end of about fifteen days, the eggs are hatched, and the young snail leaves its temporary tenement, with nearly all its members perfected, and with its shell partly formed. Of course this shell is extremely minute; and it consists, at this time, of but one convolution. Its component material is carbonate of lime, deposited in alternate layers with a softer substance, which agglutinates the harder parts together. This can be shown by dissolving the carbonate of lime in muriatic acid, when the softer matter is left alone. The soft outer skin of the animal, commonly called the mantle, deposits or excretes the shelly covering. In expla nation of this curious point in natural history, we may quote Dr Roget :-"If a portion of the shell of a living snail be removed, which can be done without injury to the animal, since it adheres to the flesh only in one point, there is formed, in the course of twentyfour hours, a fine pellicle, resembling a spider's web, which is extended across the vacant space, and constitutes the first stratum of the new shell. This web in a few days is found to have increased in thickness, by the addition of other layers to its inner surface; and this process goes on, till, in about ten or twelve days, the new portion of shell has acquired nearly the same thickness as that which it has replaced. The calcareous matter which exudes from the mantle is at first fluid and gelatinous; but it soon hardens, and consolidates into the dense substance of the shell."

In this manner does the young snail effect the construction of its shell, or rather enlarge the calcareous speck previously formed in the egg. It is the point or peak of the shell which is there formed. The animal afterwards deposits its shell laterally; but if it were to do so to an equal extent on all sides, it would obviously shut itself up in a long, straight, and rounded case. In consequence, however, of the heart and great blood-vessels being situated on the left, that side of the mantle is more active than the right side, and hence much more matter is there deposited, compelling lateral turns to be progressively made in the contrary direction, or towards the right, and " giving rise to a curve, which is continually changing its plane, being

*For some particulars respecting the places on our route, we Carlisle; 1839. have been indebted to "The Railway Companion." Scott,

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converted from a spiral to a helix, a term of geometry borrowed from this cause from the Latin name of the common snail.” That this is the cause of the peculiar shape of the snail's shell, is made apparent by the fact, that in those mollusca which have the heart on the right side, the turns of the spiral are made to the left or contrary side. Hence the terms of dextral and sinistral shells, or right and left ones. The shell of the snail, it may also be mentioned, is usually called an univalve, from its being of one continuous piece; the shells of the oyster and cockle being called biralres, from being of two pieces. The term turbinated, expressive of the spirality of the shape, is also applied to the shell of the snail. There are usually four and a half rounds or circumvolutions in the shell of the common snail.

So much for the ordinary calcareous case of the snail, and the very remarkable yet simple cause which gives it that spiral form so well calculated to render it a secure and comfortable lodgement for the possessor. But the shelly provisions are carried still further, and it will be proper to notice this point also at present. We are to suppose that the animal, during the completion of its shell, is gradually attaining its full bulk, a circumstance which naturally causes that extension of size visible in the under part of the testaceous covering. Having enjoyed its first season of summer, the garden-snail is endowed with the power of ensuring additional warmth and comfort to itself during the winter, when its shell must lie buried in snow. It constructs partitions or doors, partly membranous and partly calcareous, which extend across the whole aperture of the shell, and render the interior perfectly elose. It is remarkable in how short a time the animal will complete these new coverings when circumstances occur to urge their completion. When the snail feels the returning warmth of spring, it forces off these doors by secreting a mucous fluid which loosens the adhesion between them and the shell. It reconstructs them when occasion again requires their presence. These are the principal natural processes connected with the shelly covering which the snail goes through. But accident sometimes calls for novel exertions. It can not only make its shell, but it can also mend it, and this to an extraordinary extent. Sometimes the shell is crushed seemingly to pieces, yet the animal I will set to work, and in a few days repair all the breaches that have been made. The matter forming the patches is the same with the original shell, but the junctures are easily discerned, having a fresher colour than the rest, and giving it the appearance of a coat of many darns. Swammerdam proved that the snail, when robbed of its whole shell, could not reproduce it. It made attempts to do so, in the instance of his experiment, but failed, and soon died.

The soft body of the snail is attached to its shell, at the part called the pillar, by a strong and complicated muscle, which partly shifts its place with the growth of the animal. In the interior of the body, the chief parts to be noticed are the lungs, forming a single organ on the right side, and the heart, occupying the left. The rest of the body is filled chiefly by the digestive and intestinal organs. The body is long, and rounded externally. The most remarkable organs there situated are the horns, of which there are four, two large ones superiorly, and two smaller and shorter ones inferiorly. All these are seen distinctly when the animal is in motion, but the uppermost ones are those which chiefly deserve consideration, as well on account of the motions with which they are endowed, as because the eyes of the animal are situated at the extreme ends of them. These organs have the appearance of two blackish points. When examined apart from the body, they are found to have a bulbous or turnip shape, and have one coat. Some naturalists assert that the horns actually fulfil the purpose of a telescope. Dr Roget, an excellent authority, countenances this view. In addition to these telescopic advantages, the snail can bend its horns, and direct the eyes to different objects at pleasure, by a regular motion from muscles attached to the body; and when alarmed, it can retract and hide the horns in the soft integuments beneath. Under the small horns is placed the animal's mouth. This organ is furnished with broad lips, and is supported by an internal cartilage, having teeth or tooth-like projections upon it, eight in number, with which it cuts its food. The only other point worthy of notice in the exterior of the body is an aperture on the right side of the neck, which at once serves for the expulsion of the excrementitious matter from the body, and acts as an opening for the inhaling of air into the lungs. By the same passage, also, the eggs of the snail are emitted, when they are to be deposited in

the earth.

In the season of heat and vegetation, the snail, with its body protruded from the shell, moves from place to place in search of food, carrying its house behind it. It effects its locomotion by alternately contracting and expanding the broad muscular region forming its belly, and usually though erroneously called its foot, exuding every where a slime, apparently for the purpose of facilitating its movements. The manner in which the creature attaches itself firmly to a stone, a wall, or any other object, is one of the most interesting parts of its economy. Nature has given it no claws or limbs wherewith to hold to objects; but like limpets, and all other animals of this tribe, it can attach itself securely by merely forming a vacuum betwixt itself and the object against which it is placed. Thus,

the poor despised snail performs an elegant pneumatic experiment as effectually as could be shown by the most complete air-pump apparatus.

The snail is very voracious, as well as delicate in its choice of victuals. These consist of the leaves of plants and trees, which the animal eats in such quantities as greatly to trouble the repose of the respectable members of society who take care of our gardens. It is in the first fine days of April that the snail breaks down the door of its shell, and issues forth for the enjoyments of the season. We may suppose that its long winter fast is in part the cause of its gluttonousness at this moment. It at first takes any thing that comes in its way; every species of green vegetable seems to be welcome; but the appetite of the creature becomes in time so far appeased as to permit it to search for the most succulent plants of the garden. In almost every season, the juicy pulse is more or less destroyed in this way. Wet weather brings forth the snail in greatest numbers. Probably, one reason for this lies in the comparative ease which the dampness gives to its locomotion. When the cold season arrives, the snail, as has been mentioned, betakes itself to some snug retreat, often in company with several others of its kind, and, having closed up its shell, passes the winter in a state of torpidity. Some naturalists say that the creature makes its partition-door porous enough to admit air, but this is doubtful, and in some measure unnecessary; as we know that several animals which breathe in summer the atmospheric air, hybernate without exercising their pulmonary organs.

Both

in its nature as this, by endeavouring to describe and distinguish the numerous varieties of the helicidæ, or by including others of the aquatic mollusca, merely because they bear an affinity to the snail. The proper bounds of our article have been reached. In conclusion, therefore, we have only to observe, that snails are not a race of much direct value to man. land and water snails have been, and are still occasionally, used as articles of human food, but not extensively. The terrestrial snails, however, form articles of diet to birds to a large extent, and we often find their shells drilled with holes by the agency of worms. The latter, it is probable, after thus breaking the house, do not spare the tenants. Seeing that man is too apt to pass over such creatures as the snails, as not possessing characters entitling them to much attention, we may, before closing our sketch, quote Goldsmith's sensible remarks on this point. "Snails appear to an inattentive spectator (says he) as mere inert masses of soft flesh, rather loaded than covered with a shell, scarcely capable of motion, and insensible to all the objects around them. But when viewed more closely, they are found to be furnished with the organs of life and sensation in perfection; they are defended with armour that is at once both light and strong; they are as active as their necessities require, and are possessed of appetites more poignant than those of animals that seem much more perfectly formed. In short, they are a fruitful and industrious tribe."

[The following sketch may be considered as a very suitable com

Ingliston." It is abridged from a new and enlarged edition, now publishing in numbers, of an amusing little work, entitled "The Laird of Logan, or Wit of the West." The hero of the scene

The eyes of the garden-snail have been described. A GLASGOW DINNER PARTY OF THE The arrangement of the other senses is not so well unLAST CENTURY. derstood. Swammerdam concluded, from various experiments, that the creature possessed the sense of smell, panion to that presented in last number from the clever novel of and there can be little doubt that it also enjoys the sense of taste; but an organ of hearing is almost unknown among any of the mollusca. Every individual snail brings forth eggs, although intercourse with others is requisite for their production. Another remarkable feature in the tribe is their power of reproducing parts of their bodies, when these are cut off. If the head of a snail be amputated, the whole of that part of the animal, including even the telescopic eyes, and the other organs of sense, will be reproduced in a wonderfully short time.

These are the most striking particulars relative to the natural history of the garden-snail, and its immediate congeners, which form the class of proper terrestrial helicida. There are other members, however, of the molluscous family, approaching so closely to the land-snail tribe, as to deserve a passing mention here. Garden-snails, though fond of damp, perish in water, when they fall accidentally into it; whereas the other varieties alluded to, though resembling the gardensnail in their shells, and in the general arrangement of all the important organs, are fitted to live altogether or nearly so in the water. The fresh-water snail, for example, lives in pools, being furnished, in some cases, with a peculiar contrivance by nature, for rising to the surface, or sinking to the bottom. The manner in which this is performed is by opening and shutting the orifice or tube in the neck, by which respiration is accomplished. The creature can so protrude and dilate this tube, and so fill its lungs with air or empty them, as to render itself specifically lighter or heavier, that it may swim or sink, as the case may be. When the tube is stretched, its edges are bent over and spread so as to rest on the water, and give the creature something to hang by. It is a remarkable peculiarity of the common fresh-water snails, that they are viviparous, not oviparous, and bring forth their young not only alive, but with shells on their backs! Swammerdam found, in one parent snail of this species, nine young ones, fully formed in the manner mentioned.

Many molluscous creatures of the sea, also, bear a close analogy to land-snails in their formation and habits. The genus Janthina, for instance, are usually termed oceanic snails. They contrive to float or sink by means of cells, which they can fill with or empty of air at will. As one of the best examples, however, of the manner in which nature contrives to make a creature like the snail exist in the ocean, some notice may here be taken of a different tribe, though modern naturalists have abolished the use of the generic name in their case. We allude to the Nautilus, which resembles the land-snail in many points, but has the additional provision of tentacula or feelers attached to its head, or rather has the rudimental horns of the land-snail more fully developed. The shell of the Paper Nautilus (says Roget) is exceedingly thin, and almost pellucid, probably for the sake of lightness, for it is intended to be used as a boat. For the purpose of enabling the animal to avail itself of the impulses of the air, while it is thus floating on the waters, nature has furnished it with a thin membrane, which she has attached to two of the tentacula, so that it can be spread out like a sail to catch the light winds which waft the animal forward on its course. While its diminutive bark is thus scudding on the surface of the deep, the assiduous navigator does not neglect to ply its other tentacula as oars on either side, to direct as well as accelerate its motion. No sooner does the animal hastens to take down its sail, and quickly breeze freshen, and the sea become ruffled, than the withdrawing its tentacula within its shell, renders itself specifically heavier than the water, and sinks immediately into more tranquil regions beneath the surface."

It would be improper to extend an article so general

is this same laird from whom the book takes its title, a rattling sharp-witted Ayrshire gentleman, who flourished during the latter and to all appearance a faithful one, the sketch may be said to half of the last century. As a picture of the manners of that age, possess a historical value, not to speak of the whim and drollery with which it abounds.]

THE day was one of intense cold; the frost during the previous night had been uncommonly severe; every house, whether thatched or otherwise, was thickly covered with a hard coating of frozen snow, from which depended long spikes of ice, glittering in the feeble rays of the sun like reversed bayonets at a soldier's funeral. The Westport well, and indeed every well in town, had an irregular train of silvery-looking icicles hanging from the spout, long and flaky, and such as the children in some parts of on this day that a select party had made a paction to dine Scotland call the tail of John Frost's grey mare. It was together in the Saracen's Head. This inn was then considered the chief house of entertainment in Glasgow, and the most fashionable resort of the nobility and gentry of the west of Scotland. Here the magistrates held all their convivial meetings, which, on extraordinary occasions, was made known to the public by the fact of two townofficers with their halberds taking post as a guard of honour at the door. The Lords of Session, also, in going the circuit, always made the Saracen's Head their place of sojourn. The house no doubt was well kept, and the gaucy, good-humoured, rattle-tongued landlady, with her rosy halfets, and large laughing brown eyes, was to many no small part of the attraction, though she laughed too much, and often out of place; but where a woman has good teeth to show, this will always happen. Yet, though Mrs M-Millan was at times rather forward, and took great liberties in the way of joking with her customers, she was in the main a frank, furthy, kind-hearted, good sort of woman.

The party kept their time pretty well, and consisted of nearly a dozen. Among these were, young Sillerknows, chair, with his little French cocked hat under his arm, as the Laird of Auldgavel, Doctor Seggie, who came in a black and glossy as a new-feathered crow, while his coat was covered with hair-powder, that had fallen from his fat, little, round-about looking man, was rather particular head almost to his pouch-lids. The doctor, who was a in the matter of dress, and on this occasion, besides an abundance of frills at his breast and hands, displayed between his waistcoat and the adjoining portion of his habiliments, a bulge or roll of linen, of the finest texture and the most spotless purity. This seemed to be regarded by some of the company as proceeding from vanity in the doctor; others imputed it to the rotundity of his figure preventing him from keeping the parts of his dress so close together as he might otherwise have done. There was also present a very odd-looking young man, who had been amusing himself through the day by skating on the river, and was brought to the party by Logan of that ilk; he was dressed in a long red coat, buckskins, and the small-pox, while his nose was all drawn to one side boots; his face was completely overrun with marks of of the face, and his mouth, as if from affection, appeared to have followed in the same direction. *

While waiting for dinner, the company drew all as close round the fire as possible, and the conversation soon became very animated on the state of the weather. One declared he had seen a Highland officer slide on one foot from the top of the Drygate to the bottom, an that, when he stopped, he found the foot he had held up so firmly frozen to the bottom of his kilt, that he had to hop all the way to his lodgings. Another had seen two married ladies fall into an open part of the river, and, in that their husbands had to get them carried to a house consequence of their clinging to each other after they were got out, they became so completely frost-locked, wife again. **These are very freezing stories, gentleto have them thawed, so that each might have his own men," said Dr Seggie; but without any joke, it is certainly very cold, and I don't see how we are to manage to take our dinner unless we get warm plates to cat it

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off." "Warm plates!" exclaimed several voices. "Yes, gentlemen," cried the doctor, "it is not uncommon in the south to have them in such weather, and I don't see why we should not have them here." "Warm plates for Scotsmen! a man's stomach maun hae come to a poor pass when it canna warm a dinner for itself," said Logan, but let every man have his humour-here's the landlady, you can tell her about it, doctor." "Mrs M Millan," said the advocate for comfort-"the day is so very cold, that we fear we will not be able to eat our dinner." "Not be able to eat your dinner!" screamed the jolly dame, with a loud guffaw which interrupted the doctor's preamble. "Now, that beats a'! our gudeman and me, and, indeed, every one about the house, eat more in this weather than they do in the heat of summer. I declare every jaw in our kitchen is gawn as if it was for a wager." "Mrs McMillan," said the doctor, in a tone of greater solemnity than the occasion called for, "it is not the conduct of your kitchen people that is the matter in hand-have you any objections to give us warm plates to eat our dinner off?" "Warm plates!-did ye say warm plates, Dr Seggie? Weel, I've keepit a house this mony a year, and I never heard o' warm plates to a hot dinner before." "Then you refuse to give us them?" "By no manner o' means, Dr Seggie, so you needna lift folk before they fa'; you're welcome to any plates you please, and a' that I have to say is, that the longer a body lives they see the mae fairlies." "But is the dinner ready, Mrs Mac.?" "Deed is't, Auldgavel, and served up in the magistrates' room. Every thing's ready but the plates, and they'll soon be warmed, if I thought ye wasna making a fule o' me." "Woman," cried Dr Seggie in a pet, "we neither came here to make fools, nor to be made fools of, so get the warm plates momently, or I, for one, will leave the house." "Sweet keep us a'," cried the good-humoured hostess, "there's a storm in somebody's nose, light whar it like---but dinna be in a hurry, doctor, we'll mak' ye a' right belyve--you've gotten a warm temper, and you'll get a warm plate, an' I'll warm a bottle of water to put to your feet, and you'll get a warm brick in a nice clean warm towel, to sit on, and if a' that does na mak' ye comfortable, my certie! ye maun be ill to please." So saying, Mrs M'Millan wheeled off, with a loud laugh, to attend to her duties in the kitchen, leaving the doctor fretting and spluttering with anger, like a sausage in a frying-pan.

soup,

No." 66

66

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help yoursel." "That's just what I mean to do," cried brandy on the other. "Now, gentlemen," cried Logan,
Seggie, breaking out into a laugh in which the company
"while I'm making up a bowl of matrimony for you, let
joined; "you're a tormenting humbug, Logan, but it's
us settle about breaking up. I have to dine at Eglinton
of no use to be angry with you. Two or three times to- house to-morrow, so I must make an early start." Then
night, had I been near you, I could have run my knife I propose that we leave this when the waits come round."
into you." "Ay, ay, but I hope you'll run it into some- "And I propose," said Auldgavel, "that we get the waits
thing that'll do you more good. And now, doctor, suppose to play before us all the way home. It's clear moonlight,
you and I should ha'e a glass of brandy together." "With and there's a meeting of the Pech-Club in the Black Boy
all my heart; but really, laird, I was angry." "Man, muckle to-night, and I would like to go past like oursels." "My
ye had to be angry about; if ye heard the hecklings I get good friend," said Middlemains," I fear by the time the
frae my friends, you would wonder sometimes how I keep waits come round, we'll no be so very like oursels as you
my senses. But I hope, Auldgavel, you're keeping a' their think, and as banes in frosty weather are said to be frush
beards wagging in your quarter. Come, Sillerknows, help and easily snapped, so, in case some of us happen no to
yourself and Middlemains to some of the pie before you; be so able to keep our feet, I propose that we tell the
you'll find it good; Mrs M Millan is a noble hand at a landlord to provide chairs for all except Dr Seggie, who
pie; but speak o' the deil and he'll appear-here she is has got one already, and that we all take to our chairs in
with the venison." "Yes, laird, and I've brought some the trance, and fall in in single files behind the waits, and
more warm plates, for I thought if ony thing needed them I think that'll make a very decent set out gaun up the
it would be the venison, though it's just piping frae the Gallowgate, on a night like this." The company were
fire, and the fat's a' quivering about it like jeelie." quite in the humour to relish any whimsical proposal:
"You're a sensible woman, Mrs M Millan; set it down the above of course received a most hearty acquiescence.
before me, and I'll soon show you a roomfu'o' lip-lickers. "Weel, gentlemen," continued Logan," since that's
The very smell o't's a cordial; come, gentlemen, while settled, my right hand neighbour will ladle out the drink
'am preparing the delicacy for you, you can be washing till I go down and arrange wi' the landlord, so that there
your throats wi' a glass o' wine; I declare the flavour o' may be no mistake about it." So saying, Logan slipped
the heather that's about it might give fragrance to a from the room, while Auldgavel shook his head impres-
ball-room, even though all the beauty and fashion of the sively to Sillerknows. "Do you think so?" "I'm sure
country were in it. May I trouble you, Mrs Mac, to hand of it; I know the youth." "Sure of what?" cried seve-
that to the doctor, he's got but little dinner yet." "Deedral of the company. "That Logan's away down to settle
that's true; I've seen the doctor mak' a better dinner aff the reckoning." "That'll no do, we must speak to him."
a caulder plate." "I've seen that too, leddie, and am "You may, gentlemen, but it's of no use; we must take
sorry I said some angry words to you that there was no our revenge another time."
occasion for." "Ah, doctor, dinna let that trouble you;
we in a public line maunna heed words. Words are
but wind, they break nae banes; you were a little warm,
nae doubt, but, as our cook says, a little pot is soon
hot. If you were as tall as Logan there, or even mysel,
the heat would be langer o' getting to your head." So
saying, with a loud laugh, in which the doctor and the
company joined, the landlady made her exit, after which
the duties of the table proceeded with silence and cele-
rity, till the chairman, before drawing the cloth, proposed
a glass by way of drinking the dredgy of the gallant fat
buck they had helped to discuss. "And I propose,"
cried Auldgavel, that we include the no less gallant
brace of blackcocks." "I object to that," said Logan;
they must have a glass to themselves, for I'm sure, like
the gallant buck, they both died game." "Ay, ay,
Logan, there's no use in talking to you, for you must
always have your pun. But, by the bye, Middlemains,
can you tell me what's come o' Neapknows, I expected to
have seen him here to-night ?" "Did you no hear? He
has been sequestered at the Court o' Session, and the
Lord Ordinary, for some reason or other, has refused
to dispense with the penalty of wearing the harle.
quin stockings; so he's rather shy of being seen out."*
That'll make him look to his feet." "At least, Auld-
gavel, it will make other folk look to them," cried Logan;
and, my certie, but I think the Lord Ordinary has gien
him owre the shins, wi' a vengeance." "Yes! his lord-
ship has been rather sair on his shins." "But, tell him
frae me, Middlemains, to keep up his heart, for his shins
will do as weel for leg bail as ever. By the bye, gentle-
men, that puts me in mind o' a story of a dice-rattling
neighbour o' mine, Peter Hosie o' Warlockscroft. He
was a farmer, a drover, a horse-couper, a smuggler-in
short, he was every thing, and you'll always see that the
man of many trades thrives by none. Peter at last fell
into the same scrape as frien' Neapknows, and, as his
character didna stand high in the court, naething could
be done about the stockings; so, some time ago, he threw
a plaid about him, and came over to me, under the cloud
o'night, to ask my advice, for he was engaged as best
man at his niece's wedding. Now, you ken, gentlemen,
that the harlequin stockings, as our friend Middlemains
ca's them, are not the most becoming covering for the
legs of a best man. Weel, I heard his complaint to an
end. Go away home, Hosie,' quo' I; 'I'm to be at the
wedding the morn, as weel as yoursel; dress out in your
best, and be sure to comply wi' the act. Put on the
stockings, by all means, and just wait in the house till I
come for you.' Weel, next day I mounted my beast, and
when I got to Hosie's, I found him a' ready, but sair
down in the mouth, poor man, about the showy state of
his legs. So, I puts my hand in my pouch, and tak's out
a pair o' braw wide stockings o' my ain. Hae,' said I,
'draw on thae over the Lord Ordinary's, and let me see
wha dare find fault wi' your shanks.' 'Laird,' said he,
after looking in my face awce, that's cute.' 'Cute,' said
I; you a horse-couper and didna think on the like o'
that. Now, Middleinains, tell your friend just to tak'
the same plan: for though the act compels a man to
wear party-coloured hosen, it does not, in cold weather
like this, prevent him from taking care of his health, by
drawing on a more comfortable pair on the top of them."
"Logan, you ought to go back to Edinburgh, and take to
the law. It's a shame for a young fellow like you, to be
spending the prime of his life among a parcel of country
horse-coupers." Gang back among the Edinburgh law-
yers! I can tell you, Auldgavel, that I'm a little parti-
cular about my company, and I wish to be where there's
at least the chance of meeting wi' honesty. A horse-

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"Weel, gentlemen," said Logan to the company, who had now mustered in the magistrates' room, here's a goodly set out, and I propose that Dr Seggie take the chair instanter." "I'll take no chair in this house to-night." "What! You don't mean to take your dinner standing?" "I mean what I mean, and I'll either sit or stand as I see proper." "Weel, weel, doctor, if you're in that bowwow-humour, we must just get somebody else; come awa, Auldgavel." "Na, na, I ken nae better chairfu' than yoursel, laird, so sit down and tak' your frien' wi' the red coat here up beside you, and nae mair about it, for the dinner's cooling and if you've nae objections, I'll face you mysel." That's the thing, at last-come up to my right hand, Bob. By the bye, gentlemen, I should have told you before, that this is my frien', Mr Robert Hornshottle, of Howlet's howf, and likely soon to be of some other howf, if he plays his cards right. But here's the warm plates; hand them down to Dr Seggie, he's nearest the haggis." "There has been too much said about warm plates already; besides, I don't like haggis." "Will you take some hare then ?" 66 Then say what you'll take yourself, doctor." "I'll take some of the beef in front of you, sir, if you can assure me of its being well pouthered." "I can only say this, doctorthat Mrs M Millan's cook and your barber seem to be the best hands at poutherin' beef I know, and I think what I'm going to send you is off a bit of as weel pouthered beef as yourself." "Sir, I don't understand you; if I'm powdered, I'm the more like the company; but I won't be called nicknames by you nor any man, sir; no, sir, no man shall call me powdered beef with impunity." "Hand that to Dr Seggie. I'm thinking, doctor, you'll find that very excellent pouthered beef, although, like yoursel, it seems a wee thocht short to the cut." "I'll have none of your beef, sir---you wish to make me the laughing-stock of the company, but I won't be made a laughing-stock by you, sir, nor any man, sir." "Weel, weel, doctor, see if you can get any of your neighbours to take it." to that yourself, sir," cried Seggie, turning his back pettishly on the chairman. "No offence, doctor---but I thought, as you were rather more in the powder way than myself, you would have a better chance for a customer. Do you say pouthered beef, Sillerknows?" "I do, if Auldgavel will help me to some of the breast of that turkey at his elbow." "I'll do that, and you'll find the turkey a great improvement, for I fear Logan cut for the doctor off a part that was rather salt."Why, gentlemen, I don't know what to do with our frien', the doctor; I've tried him with haggis, and hare soup, and pouthered beef." "Sir, I want none of your attentions." "But I will attend to you though--and every one in companywhile I fill this chair---so look around you, doctor, and see if there's any thing to tickle your fancy. There's a fine young goose, plump, crisp, and tender, wi' a pudding in its gebbie, and apple sauce at his side, like a weel tocher'd lass, and no courting required, doctor, but just put forth your hand, and help yourself. There is also a peerless-look-couper may be honest, were it only by mistake; but a ing pie, covered with a paste that might tempt a bishop, and I'll warrant its inside is as rich as the mines of Potosi--so, doctor, if you're inclined to dig, you'll find your excavations well worth your trouble. Then, again, there is a dish of partridges, each reposing on his soft luscious downy bed of savoury toast, and holding up its claws as if imploring your attention. I declare, doctor, you must have a heart of adamant if you can resist such seducing supplicants. And look you here, my learned and fastidious friend, here's a brace of blackcock sending forth a fragrance that might put to shame the most costly incense that ever rose from the altars of the Romans. I would give you a Latin quotation on the subject, but you all know, gentle men, that Latin with me is something like Dr Seggie's hair powder; it could get ony where but through the skull. That's right, doctor, tak' to your warm plate and

"See

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lawyer, never-na, na, it's not considered professional to
make mistakes of that kind."

Before the claret was fairly disposed of, the company
had got into a pretty jovial humour. The chairman had
sung "John o' Badenyon," Dr Seggie had given the
"Jovial Tinker," and Sillerknows was roaring at the top
of his voice "My father was born before me," when a
capacious bowl was placed before the chairman, sup-
ported by a bottle of rum on one side, and a bottle of

For the sake of some of our reades in the south, it may be
necessary to mention that, by the old Scottish Bankrupt Act, the

defaulter was compelled to wear what is called "dyyours hose,"
namely, stockings of different colours-the law, however, was
seldom enforced, except when glaring misconduct on the part of
the bankrupt was complained of.

On Logan resuming his seat, the company began, openmouthed, to rate him for the liberty he had taken, to all which he listened with the greatest patience till he was expected to reply. "Gentlemen, fill your glasses, and I'll give you a toast: May we always do as we ought to do.' You took the liberty of conferring upon me the honour of being your chairman, and I merely took the liberty of adding to that honour, by making you my guests. If I have done wrong, it was yourselves that set me the example. I have no other apology to offer; so here's wishing you all a merry new-year when it comes." "Ah, Logan, Logan, you're the old man, I see, and there's no use talking to you; so, here's wishing you may spend the coming new-year as merrily as you did last.” The conviviality of the evening, or rather the morning, had by this time reached its height. The company broke out into a grand Dutch medley, after which, a straggling fire of verses was faintly kept up by a few of the party, while the heads of some of the others began to droop. They had all drunk hard, owing to a vague impression they had of an early adjournment, as hinted by the chairman, who, it must be acknowledged, began to look drowsy himself. The house became gloomy and silent, and the lights, from want of attention, had waxed dim. The landlord now made his appearance to announce that the chairs were all come, and the waits in the kitchen. On hearing this, Logan rubbed his face, and started to his feet, like a giant refreshed, to help mine host to rouse his companions, and get them all settled in their chairs. "Remember, M'Millan, that I bring up the rear, and follow Auldgavel's chair, for I take my bed with him," said Logan, as he laid hold of the wait, to arrange with him about the starting music, which was agreed should be the favourite old air of "We're a'nodding," as being best adapted for the chairman's trot. On falling into a line, one of the chairs was found to be empty, Mr Hornshottle having set off on foot. "That's a hard skinflint of a callant, it's just to save the expense; but don't tell him, Mac, that I settled for the chairs, or he'll be for nicking his wizzen about losing his hobble hame." "But what will your honour noo be doing to us for our share lift ?" asked one of the Celts. "Fall into the procession; M'Millan will pay you the same as the others, and if you meet with a drunk man, put him in, and take him to Mrs Hornshottle's-do you know the house ?" "We both do that, and well "Then take him there, and tell the servants it's Bob-but he's a little changed with liquor-but that they'll know him when they see him with daylight. Do what I've told you, and I'll give you double fare for your trouble." "Och, we'll do tat, for I'll catch you a' drunk, Pech, in five minute." "I hope," said Logan, as he entered the sedan, "they wont meet with Bob himself; it would be better luck than he deserves." All being ready, the waits struck up, and the procession, lighted by the moon, took its way up the Gallowgate.

too."

TO THE SOUTH WIND.
Balmy breeze from the blossomy south,
Kissing my lips with thy tender mouth,
Touching my forehead with delicate hand,
Lifting my hair up with breath so bland,
And bathing my head with scents of flowers,
Borne from the laps of southern bowers-
Balmy breeze, I behold not thee;
Yet, oh, how beautiful thou must be!
Stay-wilt thou stay, sweet breeze? Ah! now
It hath fled away from my lip and brow;
There, over the plain, its wide robe spreads,
And the gentle flowers are bending their heads:
It hath enter'd the wood-the beautiful breeze!

I hear its music among the trees;
And now it is passing over the river-

I know by the water's timid quiver.
Balmy breeze! I behold not thee;
But, oh, how beautiful thou must be!
Come, thou breeze, from the bloomy south,
Kiss my lips with thy tender mouth;
Touch my brow with thy delicate hand,
And take me away to thy southern land;
Then never more, breeze invisible, roam,
But dwell with me in thy spirit's home.
-Whim-whams, by Four of us: Boston, U. S.

LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W.S. ORR, Paternoster Row; and sold by all booksellers and newsmen.-Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.

[graphic]

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE," "CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

NUMBER 439.

THE PRISONERS OF MOUNT CAUCASUS. THE Caucasian mountains have for a long time past been inclosed within the bounds of the Russian empire without being subject to it. Their wild and savage inhabitants, separated by language and conflicting interests, form a number of small tribes, which have very little political intercourse or correspondence with one another, but which are all animated by the same love of independence and of plunder.

One of the most numerous and most formidable of those tribes is that of the Tchetchenges, who inhabit the great and little Kabarda, provinces whose extensive valleys extend almost to the summit of the Caucasus. The men are handsome, brave, and intelligent, but they are determined and cruel robbers, almost in a constant state of warfare with the troops of the line.

It is amidst those dangerous hordes, and in the very centre of that immense chain of mountains, that Russia has established a road of communication with her possessions in Asia. Redoubts or forts, placed at short intervals, defend the way as far as Georgia, but no traveller would ever venture even over that small distance alone. Twice a-week a convoy of infantry with cannon, and a strong party of Cossacks, escort government dispatches and travellers. One of these redoubts has become a village pretty well peopled. From its commanding situation it received the name of Wladi-Caucasus: it is the residence of the officer commanding the troops which perform the hard service we have just now mentioned.

Major Kascambo, of the regiment of Wologda, a man of family in Russia, though of Greek origin, was to take the command of the Fort of Lars in the defiles of the Caucasus. Impatient to reach his post, and brave to rashness, he had the imprudence to undertake that journey with the small escort of fifty Cossacks which he had at his command, and the still greater imprudence to speak of his intention, and to boast of it beforehand.

The Tchetchenges situated near the frontier, who are called Pacific Tchetchenges, are subjects of Russia, and have in consequence a free access to Mosdok, but the greater part of them keep up a correspondence and secret intercourse with the mountaineers, and very often take part in their robberies and share their plunder. The latter, secretly informed of Kascambo's intended journey, and of the very day of his departure, came down in great numbers, and lay in ambuscade on his route. At about twenty versts from Mosdok, on turning a small hillock covered with brushwood, he was attacked by seven hundred horsemen. Retreat was impossible: the Cossacks dismounted and stood the attack with great firmness, hoping to be succoured by the troops of a redoubt which was not very far off.

The inhabitants of the Caucasus, though individually very courageous, are incapable of attacking in a dense body, and are in consequence not very formidable to a steady and well-disciplined body of men; but they have very good arms, and are excellent marksmen. Their great numbers on the present occasion made the conflict too unequal. After keeping up for a considerable time a brisk fire, more than one-half of the Cossacks were killed or disabled; the remainder had formed a circular rampart with the dead horses, behind which they were employing their ammunition to the best effect. The Tchetchenges, who have always among them some Russian deserters, whom they employ as interpreters, made them cry out, "Give up the major, or you shall be killed to the last man!" Kascambo, seeing that the total destruction of his party was inevitable, resolved to surrender, to save the lives of those who still survived. He gave his sword

SATURDAY, JUNE 27, 1840.

to his Cossacks, and proceeded alone towards the Tchetchenges, who instantly ceased their fire, their sole object being to take him alive, and thereby obtain a ransom. He had scarcely been a moment in the enemy's hands when he perceived in the distance the expected succours approaching. It was, alas! too late-the robbers hurried him off.

His denchick, or soldier-servant, had remained behind with the mule carrying the major's baggage. Concealed in a hollow, he waited the event of the combat. When he was informed by the Cossacks of his master's misfortune, the brave fellow immediately resolved to share his destiny, and, driving his mule before him, followed without loss of time the track of the Tchetchenges. He was beginning to lose sight of the hoofmarks in the darkness, when he fortunately fell in with a straggler, who conducted him to the place of rendezvous.

One may easily conceive what must have been the prisoner's feelings when he saw his denchick come spontaneously to share his miserable fate. The Tchetchenges immediately divided the booty. They left nothing to the major but a guitar, which they restored to him in derision. Ivan (this was the denchick's name) took possession of it, and although ordered by his master to throw it away, refused to obey him. "Why should we lose courage?" said he; "the God of the Russians is great !+-it is the interest of these dogs to take care of you; they will do you no harm."

After a halt of a few hours, the horde of robbers was in the act of resuming the march, when one of their spies brought information that the Russians were still advancing, and that most likely the troops of the other redoubts would join in the pursuit. A council was held; the object was, not only to keep their prisoner, but so conceal their retreat, and also carry him far from their villages, so as to avoid reprisals. They accordingly dispersed by various roads. Ten men on foot were left in charge of the prisoners, while above a hundred horsemen remained together and proceeded in quite a different direction. They forced the major to take off his boots, whose impressions the enemy might have recognised, and obliged Ivan and him to walk thus barefooted all the first part of the day.

On reaching a torrent, the small party ran back on the grassy banks for about a mile, and then descended at the most precipitous and thorny part of the bank, so as to leave no trace of their passage. The major was so exhausted that they had to support him with belts and ropes to drag him across the water. His feet were all bleeding, and they were forced to give him back his boots to enable him to accomplish the remainder of his journey.

When they arrived at the first village, Kascambo, suffering more from grief than from actual fatigue, appeared to his keepers so wasted and so weak, that they treated him with more humanity than at first. They allowed him some rest and a horse for the journey; but to baffle all the investigations of the Russians, and make it impossible for the prisoner himself to inform his friends of his place of confinement, they carried him from village to village, and from one valley to another, often blindfolded. He thus crossed a large river, which he supposed to be the Sonja. They took great care of him during these expeditions, and allowed him sufficient rest and food. But when once he reached the distant village in which he was finally to be confined, the Tchetchenges sud

* His name was Ivan Smirnoff, which might be translated John the Meek, an appellation contrasting singularly with his real character, as will be found hereafter.

↑ A common saying of the Russian soldier in the time of danger.

PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.

denly altered their conduct towards him, and inflicted every species of bad treatment on him. They put irons on his hands and on his feet, and a heavy chain about his neck, the end of which was fixed to a largo log of oak. The denchick was treated with less rigour. His irons were lighter, which allowed him to perform some services to his master.

In that situation, and at every new vexation he received, a man who spoke Russian came to him and advised him to write to his friends to procure his ransom, which was fixed at ten thousand roubles. It was impossible for the unfortunate prisoner to pay such a large sum, and his only hope was in the efforts of government, as they had formerly released a colonel who had thus fallen into the brigands' hands. The interpreter promised to provide him with paper, and to forward the letter safely; but after obtaining his consent, he was several days without appearing again, and the whole of that time was employed in aggravating the major's hardships and sufferings. They starved him; they took from him the mat on which he lay, and the cushion of a Cossack's saddle which he used as a pillow; and when the ruffian who acted as a mediator reappeared, he informed him, in a confidential manner, that, in case his ransom should be refused, the Tchetchenges were resolved to get rid of him, in order to put an end to the anxieties and expense he caused them. The object of this cruel behaviour was to induce him to write in a more pressing manner. They gave him at last a reed cut in the shape of a pen, and some paper; they took off the irons from his hands and neck, that he might write more at ease; and when the letter was finished, it was translated to the chiefs, who took charge of forwarding it to the Russian lines. From that moment he was treated with less severity, and only loaded with a single chain confining the right hand and right foot.

Kascambo suffered much

His jailor was a man about sixty, of a gigantic stature and most ferocious aspect, quite in harmony with his real character and natural dispositions. Two of his sons had been killed in a skirmish with the Russians, on which account he was chosen as the fittest keeper for the prisoner. The family of this man, called Ibrahim, consisted of the widow of one of his sons, about thirty-five years of age, and a young child seven or eight years old, called Mamet, whose mother was at least as wicked, and still more whimsical than the old man. from her; but the caresses and the attentions of young Mamet were to him, in the course of his captivity, a solace and real relief. The poor child formed such an attachment to him, that all the ill humour and bad usage of his grandfather could not prevent him from coming to play with the prisoner on every opportunity. He called him his koniak, which, in the language of the country, means a guest, a friend. He shared secretly with him the fruit he could procure, and, during the long fast the major had to suffer, little Mamet cleverly took advantage of the absence of his parents to bring him bread or potatoes baked under the ashes.

A few months had passed over since the dispatch of the letter, without bringing forth any remarkable event. In that space of time, Ivan had managed to conciliate both the woman and the old man, or rather he had contrived to make himself necessary to them. He possessed to perfection the skill required for a young officer's kitchen. He brewed kislitchi* admirably, and dressed salt cucumbers in a superior manner, and had accustomed his hosts to all the little additions and improvements he introduced in their daily fare.

* A kind of drink made with fermented bread.

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