a circumstance particularly gratifying to him, as, from the impression of his early life, he always felt strongly attached to that noble family. Dr Denman now finding the duties of his profession too laborious for him, he gradually introduced his sonin-law, Mr Croft, who had chosen the same branch of the profession, and who attended to the more arduous duties of the practice, until the doctor finally retired from the field. Dr Denman died in the year 1815.” When I arrived in town, I was recommended to Mr Hunt, a hairdresser in Dean Street, with whom my brother had lodged and boarded. I paid him ten shillings and sixpence a-week, and a bad bargain he had. The money I brought with me to London was intended for the purpose of enabling me to attend St George's Hospital, and two courses of anatomical lectures; but in six months it was wholly expended. I knew little of economy, for having never been accustomed to the management or disposal of money, I acted as a child in this respect, contriving how to spend it as soon as it was received. This was rather a misfortune than a fault; but it is amazing to me, from them. She was frugal without meanness, tem- nanging by the neck. At the first glance, and even at when I recollect how many years I lived in the world without changing this disposition, and how many inconveniences it caused me in the course of my life. My money being gone, there was a necessity of seeking some employment for immediate support. Many were thought of, but none seemed so agreeable to myself or friends as going to sea in the king's service. I applied to the Navy Board for an order to be examined at Surgeons' Hall; and, very much to my own astonishment, I passed as surgeon to a ship of sixth rate, April 3, 1755. The ship to which I was appointed lay at Blackstairs, but I had no money to prepare for the voyage, or to bear my expenses to the ship. I pawned my watch, and set off with about forty shillings in my pocket, to enter among strangers upon a way of life of which I had no more idea than of the Mogul's court.' After Dr Denman's return from sea, he was recom a-year by my business. I was in the thirty-seventh the very year we were married, we saved L.200, and My assiduity increased with my family, so that in have continued to do so every year since. About two mended by his friends to settle at Winchester. At Dr Denman left Winchester for the great metropolis; and after attending a course of anatomical lectures and dissections, on the recommendation of Drs Kelly and Kirkpatrick he obtained his degree of M.D. from the University of Aberdeen. Dr Denman received forty pounds in fees the first year; but this sum, he says, though not adequate to pay my expenses, gave me some encouragement.' He then published an essay on puerperal fever, which gained him some credit and increased his practice. He also published a letter to Dr Hirch, on the construction and use of vapour baths; but this, the author says, scarcely produced so much as to pay the expense of printing it.' from the proceeds of his practice, applied to be apThe doctor, finding it difficult to support himself pointed surgeon to one of the king's yachts. He received the appointment, which was worth L.70 a-year to him; but in 1777 he was obliged to resign the situation, as the yacht was ordered upon service, and the attendance would have been incompatible with his London business. But to continue the doctor's auto biography: The whole savings,' he says, of the nine years I had been at sea, were now entirely expended, and I had with great difficulty kept myself out of debt; the thoughts of which hurting my pride, and giving me very mortifying reflections, I began to be very circumspect about my expenses. However, on the strength of the yacht, I had taken a small house in Oxendon Street, but I furnished only one parlour, thinking to complete it gradually, as I was able; and I hired a maid-servant, who cheated me very much. When I went into this house, excepting my furniture, I had but twenty-four shillings in the world, but I was out of debt. My business increased every year, and in the third year after I had taken my house, I had two hundred and fifty pounds, which, together with the profits for the yacht, prevented all present inconvenience, and gave me better hopes for the future. About this time died Dr Cooper, a teacher of midwifery, of no great reputation. Mr Osborn, who had attended St George's Hospital when did, and who was pretty much in the same predicament with respect to fortune as myself, agreed to give lectures with me. We purchased Dr Cooper's apparatus for L.120, and great difficulty we had to raise the money between us. We began to read lectures in the year 1770, awkwardly enough, and with little encouragement, as I suppose most people do at first; but it is probable that we improved, for in a short time the lectures flourished, and with them my business, and I believe my credit also. Dr Cooper had likewise been man-midwife to the Middlesex Hospital; I offered myself as a candidate to succeed him; and after a very hard contest, some expense, and endless trouble, I was elected jointly with Dr Krohn. I was now surgeon to the William and Mary yacht, I was teacher of midwifery, I was man-midwife to the Middlesex Hospital, I had published two pamphlets, which had at least acquired me a character for indusry and common abilities, and I got upwards of L.300 in the winter ;* but the advantages which might result With my new chariot I had a coachman in a hand- The continuation of this memoir must be left to of Dr Denman. It appears that, after having written him in considerable pecuniary difficulties. On the practice of London physicians. No man who walks on foot is CONTRABAND MUSEUM IN PARIS. I HAD caught a bad cold, and just as I lifted up my head I "This is the contraband muscum," was the answer; and, on my showing a curiosity to examine it, he was kind enough to act as my cicerone. In a huge dusty room are scattered over the floor, on rattled. The officer was bewildered: he sounded the foot- It happened that one of the soldiers had dabbled a little in inedicine, and been surgeon's mate in a regihim home, to offer him his services. This generous bement. He took pity on the wounded man, and followed of the seconds, who were at a loss how to get rid of a haviour won him all hearts in Valenciennes, except those benefactor whose presence would be so fatal to the sucof them took the soldier aside, and begged him to wait cess of their daring fraud. At last, the most ingenious a few moments in another room, till he got the sick man ready to receive his disinterested physician. The surhimself of the interval, and whispered in the patient's geon-soldier readily agreed to this; the friend availed ear, as he lay on the mattrass, "We are lost!"" "Sabrebleu! and why?" asked the wounded man. Speak lower! one of the custom-house guards wants to dress your wounds." My wounds? he shant do it-I want to keep them "I know that, but the fool will insist on it." first." "Why, you wretch, we shall be ruined." "What of it? I wish I had really been badly rounded, I give you my word for it." "Alas! I'm afraid it's the only way to get out of this scrape." "Much obliged to you." "If you only would” "Well, what?" "It's time enough yet, perhaps". "Well ?" "The wife of Brutus, on a like occasion, inflicted a desperate wound on herself." "What have I got to do with that?" "Don't you understand, my dear friend?" "Ah, horrible! I shudder at the thought. You are so fond of me, that you are very willing to shed my blood" and the frightened patient raised himself up in bed. "Come, come, try to be reasonable." "You are troublesome: do you think I'm going to throw away my life to serve you think of something else. I should like very much to oblige you-but in such a way-never! I'd die first." "Only think what it is you object to-only two little wounds if they only look natural, it's all sufficient. Come, my dear fellow, say you agree to it." "I tell you again and again, I wont." "Come, now, be clever, I've an easy hand, and the surgeon will be tired waiting." "I suppose you think it will be fine fun for me." "Oh what a fuss you make about a couple of little scratches! If kindness and friendship cannot touch your obstinate heart, let's see what force will do." And thereupon the friend seized his sword; the patient dodged the first blow, leaped to his feet, snatched up the other weapon, and attacked his aggressor furiously. The soldier, hearing the scuffle, rushed into the room, and succeeded, not without trouble, in separating the combatants, when he found, to his great surprise, that it was not the sham patient that needed help, but his friend, till now safe and sound, whom the dying man had pinked just below the thorax. "I thought," said the soldier, "that these gentlemen were too polite to give me all the trouble of coming for nothing." The wounded man was soon cured, and the mattrass, stuffed full of English goods, well repaid the soldier for his medical services.-From the French, in the New York Mirror. There is a prevalent notion, which has been of some use in resistance to the maxims of temperance, that, alcohol being a direct product of nature, it ought to be esteemed as a gift of Providence, and received and enjoyed as such. We find this view controverted in a work recently published under the title of " Bacchus, being an Essay on the Nature, Causes, Effects, and Cure of Intemperance," by Mr Grindrod of Manchester. It is there represented that alcohol is a thing of considerably different character, and that of course all such arguments for its use as an intoxicating fluid must fall to the ground. When vegetables cease to live, they, like animals under the same circumstances, hasten to a complete dissolution or decomposition, so as to become once more inorganic matter. Very soon after they have ceased to live, if steeped in water, at a temperature o about 60 degrees of Fahrenheit, they begin to undergo a process called fermentation. Of this process there are three stages, each, however, only to be realised under certain conditions. For the first, or vinous stage, the above temperature is necessary; for the second, the acetous stage, a temperature of 70 degrees is required; the third, or putrefactice stage, has also conditions peculiar to itself. 66 tints of the vast arcana of vegetable nature, each owes of creation, and how boundless she is in her resources of man. The knowledge that the whole of this variety in vegetable creation is occasioned simply by a very slight variation in the combination of three simple substances, affords to us a distinct idea how the elementary principles of alcohol may exist in nature, without the actual existence of alcohol itself. No human investigation has as yet, nor indeed have we any reason to suppose it ever will, discover the slightest trace of native alcohol in any part of the creation of nature. The application of this argument is familiar and in grain and fruit, and in every part of vegetable creaclear. Many persons assert that alcohol is contained tion, and that therefore it is intended by the Creator for the use of man. Such, however, is not the case. The elements of alcohol, indeed, are to be found throughout the whole of vegetable creation, and so are the elements of other deleterious substances, but not a particle of alcohol itself. So long as the chemistry of life retains its sway, will the constituent materials of vegetable matter hold together in the relation in which nature has placed them. Death, however, or, in other words, decomposition, subverts this natural arrangement, dissolves its connexions, and new and totally different combinations are thereby formed. So it is with alcohol. In wines, this poison undergoes juice of the grape; in malt liquors, man destroys the evolution during the decay or decomposition of the vital principle of the barley, by converting it into malt, and then subjects it to another artificial process, which produces results similar to those which take place in the production of wine. and British troops at the outposts. The value of such a generous intercourse old soldiers well understand, and some illustrations of it at this period may be quoted. On the 9th of December, the 43d were assembled in column on an open space, within twenty yards of the enemy's out-sentry; yet the latter continued to walk his beat for an hour without concert, relying so confidently the ground to ease his shoulders. When at last the order on the customary system, that he placed his knapsack on to advance was given, one of the British soldiers, stepping out, told him to go away, and helped him to replace his pack; the firing then commenced. The next morning the French, in like manner, warned a 43d sentry to retire. But the most remarkable instance happened on the occasion of Lord Wellington being desirous of getting to the top of a hill occupied by the enemy near Bayonne. He ordered the riflemen who escorted him to drive the French away, and seeing the former stealing up, as he thought, too near, called out to commence firing; with a loud voice one of those old soldiers replied, "No firing!" French, tapped it in a peculiar way. At the well-underand then, holding up the butt of his rifle towards the stood signal, which meant, "We must have the hill for a short time," the French, who, though they could not maintain, would not have relinquished the post without a fight if they had been fired upon, quietly retired. And this signal would never have been made if the post had been one capable of a permanent defence, so well do veterans understand war and its proprieties.-Napier's Peninsular War. ANECDOTE OF ACHILLE MURAT. [The following curious anecdote is translated in the New York Mirror, from the Courrier des Etats-Unis, a French periodical which has been published for several years in the same city, and While Italy was a province of the empire, a mutiny is now under the care of a gentleman named Gaillardet.] We may mention the name of a prince as having been, for a time at least, connected with the New Orleans bar. M. Achille Murat, son of the ex-king of Naples, made his début as an advocate there, and showed himself a remarkable man, if not an orator. With a singularity, however, which belongs to his character, he never appeared at the bar a second time, and has since quitted the gown and the country. We may, however, mention an anecdote of his stay here, which rests on the authority of his mother, the Princess of Lipona. broke out in the garrison of Leghorn, of so serious a character as to excite in a high degree Napoleon's indigresolved to crush it in its bud, and make a terrible nation. He was no friend of insubordination, and example of the culprits. Joachim Murat was charged with this painful duty, and set off for Leghorn without delay. When he arrived there, the insurrection had spent itself, and shame and remorse succeeded a temBy many it has been supposed that alcohol does not porary forgetfulness. However, the emperor's orders exist ready formed in fermented liquors, but that it is were strict, and punishment must be inflicted. Murat generated by the heat used in the process of distilla- therefore called the soldiers together, and, after reproachtion. The fallacy, however, of this view, is manifesting them bitterly for their offence, required that the from several considerations, and by none more than ringleaders of the mutiny should be given up, otherwise ten men out of every battalion would be drawn by lot, by the following decisive experiment made by Mr and shot. The soldiers hung their heads, and professed Brande, and subsequently confirmed by other distin- themselves ready to submit to any punishment their guished philosophers. Add to wine a solution of the emperor might inflict upon them, but begged the general subacetate of lead, and the colouring and extractive not to force them to turn informers against their commatter will be precipitated. The further addition of a rades. Murat would not yield, and the ten men, whose small portion of dry subcarbonate of potassa, separates names were drawn, were about to be carried off, when the alcohol from the fluid, which floats on the surface, three soldiers stepped to the front, and avowed themand will ignite on coming in contact with a lighted selves the instigators of the revolt. There was so much taper. By this means we decisively determine that shame and contrition expressed by the vieux moustaches, distillation separates merely the alcohol, which had that Murat was deeply moved. He stood silent a while, been previously evolved by the process of fermenta- then ordered the three criminals to be taken to prison, tion; its constituent parts being thereby extracted, in to be shot the next morning. That same night, when their elementary forms, from the saccharine juices of the grain or fruit, and combined under a new, a potent, and a deleterious form. Arguments like these are interesting, and even The first stage in fermentation is named the vinous, necessary to remove such objections as are urged in because at that stage is developed the spirit of wine, proof that alcohol is a good creature of God. The or alcohol. The second is named acetous, because in great point, however, to be ascertained, is, the effect like manner vinegar is then produced. It is by arof these liquors on the moral and physical powers of resting the process at these respective stages, and man. Let it be admitted, for the sake of argument, subjecting the fermenting matter to distillation, that that alcohol is a creature of God, and no advantage human ingenuity obtains alcohol and vinegar, neither will be derived by its advocates from the concession. of which is ever found, in any form or combination Many of our most powerful poisons are the creatures whatever, as the effect of any living process, but only of God. The poisonous upas, and the deadly hemlock, as arising out of the decay, the dissolution, and the are each of them creatures of God; yet the Creator wreck, of organised matter." The constituent ele-nowhere authorises his creatures to make use of them ments of alcohol are, nevertheless, the same as those as habitual articles of diet. He has given to man the of all living vegetable substances, namely, carbon, power of distinguishing between moral good and evil; hydrogen, and oxygen; the first being, out of 100 parts, and although the scientific knowledge of the precise as 52, the second as 13, and the third as 35. These character and quality of articles generally used for statements will serve to introduce the following redietetic purposes may be limited in a great measure to marks of Mr Grindrod :--professional men, yet it is every man's duty, as it is obviously his interest, to acquire by experience all the knowledge he can upon that important subject; and conscientiously to abstain from every indulgence which is calculated either to affect his moral character, or to injure the exquisite texture of his intellectual or corporeal frame." 66 On the supposition that the formation of alcohol is the result of natural laws, it may pertinently be inquired, why man interferes with and disturbs the operations of nature, at a particular period, that is, exactly at the commencement of her object, and thus prevents that ultimate action which otherwise would inevitably take place. The answer is simple and decisive. He arrests the operations of nature exactly at that period when he can supply himself with a product calculated to gratify his depraved and vitiated appetites. Hence the multifarious and complicated inventions of the wine-maker and brewer. We leave this train of reasoning to the best consideration of our readers, without pretending to pronounce decisively on a point which involves the whole question of providential design. SURPRISING OF MILITARY POSTS. This branch of our inquiry may be better understood by a slight review of the active laws of animate vegeAbout the same time, one of Hill's posts near the contable creation, so far at least as they have connexion fluence of the Aron with the Adour, was surprised by with the present object of our investigation. The fresh troops detached from Urt forced them to repass the some French companies, who remained in advance until constituent principles of vegetables consist of carbon, river again. This affair was a retaliation for the surprise oxygen, and hydrogen. The poisonous upas, and the nutritious grape; the fragrant rose, and the nauseous of a French post a few days before, by the sixth division, which was attended with some circumstances repugnant assafoetida; the refreshing foliage, and the delicate to the friendly habits long established between the French every thing was quiet, except the measured step of the patrol, and the cry of the sentinels on the walls, Murat was seated in his apartment, while before him stood three grizzled veterans, cap in hand, weeping like children. It was not death that the heroes of Arcole and Marengo feared-it was to be disgraced to die the death of traitors; they wept, not for their fate, but for their crime! "Listen!" said Murat. "I believe you are really sorry for what you have done, and I want to save your lives. To-morrow, at daybreak, you will be led out to execution, outside the city. I will take care there shall be no spectators. The platoon will fire on you with blank cartridges, and you must fall down, and remain motionless, till they march off the ground. A trusty man will be ready to put you into a close carriage; a vessel sails to-morrow for America, on board of which you will embark. Here is a purse of gold for each of you. Will you promise to behave yourselves?" Every thing happened as he had arranged it; and Napoleon thanked Murat for having taken the lives of only three of his soldiers. The circumstances remained a secret till 1830, when Prince Achille Murat, walking one day in the suburbs of New Orleans, was caught in a shower. He sought shelter in the nearest house, a small and plain one; a man and wife, with their children, were the only inhabitants. The man had an austere, yet good-natured face, and that stiffish walk which an old soldier can never get rid of. The prince remarked that his host eyed him fixedly, and seemed strangely agitated. The prince, on the other hand, sitting by the humble hearth, cast his eyes round the room with the idle curiosity of a man who has nothing to do. He rose, for he saw on the walls some coarse engravings of Napoleon's generals and battles. Above them were placed, under a laurel crown, two portraits of Murat, as general, and as king. "Have you ever served France ?" asked the prince. "Yes, sir," answered his host, not without embarrassment. "Where? and under whom ?” "In Italy, under General Murat." The son of the soldier-king held name, my brave fellow ?" "Claude Gerard; might I ask, out his hand to his father's old comrade. Your sir,- "I am Achille Murat." "It is true, then, and my eyes did not deceive me! You are the son of my general, of my king, of my saviour! If I am now alive, if I have a wife and children, I owe it to him, and to him alone;" and thereupon the old soldier told the story we have sketched down, often interrupting it with blessings and exclamations of gratitude. The prince, whose singular character, and aversion to society, led him to avoid the city, and wander about in the country, never, while he remained in America, found any roof more welcome, and visited none oftener, than that which covered the poor and humble abode of his father's old companion in arms. HUMOURS OF AN IRISH STUDENT. AMONG the many peculiar tastes which distinguished Mr Francis Webber, was an extraordinary fancy for street begging; he had, over and over, won large sums upon his success in that difficult walk; and so perfect were his disguises, both of dress, voice, and manner, that he actually, at one time, succeeded in obtaining charity from his very opponent in the wager. He wrote ballads with the greatest facility, and sung them with infinite pathos and humour; and the old woman at the corner of College Green was certain of an audience, when the severity of the night would leave all other minstrelsy deserted. As these feats of jonglerie usually terminated in a row, it was a most amusing part of the transaction to see the singer's part taken by the mob against the college men, who, growing impatient to carry him off to supper somewhere, would invariably be obliged to have a fight for the booty. Now, it chanced that a few evenings before, Mr Webber was returning with a pocket well lined with copper, from a musical réunion he had held at the corner of York Street, when the idea struck him to stop at the end of Grafton Street, where a huge stone grating at that time exhibited, perhaps it exhibits still, the descent to one of the great main sewers of the city. The light was shining brightly from a pastry-cook's shop, and showed the large bars of stone, between which the muddy water was rushing rapidly down, and plashing in the torrent that ran boisterously several feet beneath. To stop in the street of any crowded city is, under any circumstances, an invitation to others to do likewise, which is rarely unaccepted; but, when in addition to this, you stand fixedly in one spot, and regard with stern intensity any object near you, the chances are ten to one that you have several companions in your curiosity before a minute expires. Now, Webber, who had at first stood still, without any particular thought in view, no sooner perceived that he was joined by others, than the idea of making something out of it immediately occurred to him. "What is it, agra ?" inquired an old woman, very much in his own style of dress, pulling at the hood of his cloak. "And can't you see for yourself, darlin'?" replied he sharply, as he knelt down, and looked most intensely at the sewer. "Are ye long there, avick?" inquired he of an imaginary individual below; and then waiting as if for a reply, said, "Two hours!" Blessed Virgin! he's two hours in the drain !" 66 By this time the crowd had reached entirely across the street, and the crushing and squeezing, to get near the important spot, was awful. Where did he come from?" "Who is he?" "How did he get there?" were the questions on every side, and various surmises were afloat, till Webber, rising from his knees, said, in a mysterious whisper to those nearest him, "He's made his escape to-night out o' Newgate by the big drain, and lost his way; he was looking for the Liffey, and took the wrong turn." To an Irish mob, what appeal could equal this? A culprit, at any time, has his claim upon their sympathy; but let him be caught in the very act of cheating the authorities, and evading the law, and his popularity knows no bounds. Webber knew this well; and, as the mob thickened around him, sustained an imaginary conversation that Savage Landor might have envied, imparting now and then such hints concerning the runaway, as raised their interest to the highest pitch, and fifty different versions were related on all sides-of the crime he was guilty-the sentence passed on him--and the day he was to suffer. "Do ye see the light, dear," said Webber, as some ingeniously benevolent individual had lowered down a candle with a string; "do ye see the light; oh! he's fainted, the creature." A cry of horror from the crowd burst forth at these words, followed by an universal shout of "Break open the street." Pick-axes, shovels, spades, and crow-bars, seemed absolutely the walking accompaniments of the crowd, so suddenly did they appear upon the field of action, and the work of exhumation was begun with a vigour that speedily covered nearly half of the street with mud and paving stones; parties relieved each other at the task, and, ere half an hour, a hole capable of containing a mail-coach, was yawning in one of the most frequented thoroughfares of Dublin. Meanwhile, as no appearance of the culprit could be had, dreadful conjectures as to his fate began to gain ground. By this time the authorities had received intimation of what was going forward, and attempted to disperse the crowd; but Webber, who still continued to conduct the prosecution, called on them to resist the police, and save the poor creature. And now began a most terrific fray; the stones forming a ready weapon, were hurled at the unprepared constables, who, on their side, fought manfully, but against superior numbers; so that, at last, it was only by the aid of a military force the mob could be dispersed, and a riot, which had assumed a very serious character, got under. Meanwhile, Webber had reached his chambers, and changed his costume, and was relating over a supper table the narrative of his philanthropy to a very admiring circle of his friends.-Charles O'Malley, the Irish Dragoon. GREAT EVENTS FROM TRIFLING CAUSES. There is a tradition in Scotland, that a dram of brandy produced the restoration of Charles II. A messenger from the Parliament of England had brought letters to General Monk whilst he remained in Edinburgh. This messenger was also intrusted with dispatches to the governor of Edinburgh Castle, a circumstance which he mentioned to one of Monk's servants while on his journey. The man (a sergeant) saw something unusual in this, and prevailed upon his fellow-traveller to drink a dram of brandy with him at a neighbouring ale-house, where the messenger became ultimately so drunk that the sergeant was enabled to take the papers from his custody without detection. This done, he posted to his general with the packet, who, on perusing its contents, found an order for his arrest and detention in the castle. Policy and resentment at once directed the eyes of Monk to Charles Stuart, and his restoration succeeded. THE EGGS AND THE HORSES. [The following version of a popular English story, of which an outline is given in Grose's Dictionary, was one of the "speeches" at St Saviour's Grammar School in November 1837. The youthful author has already given to the world an attractive volume of versified fables, under the title of "Old Friends in a New Dress."*] John Dobbins was so captivated By Mary Trueman's fortune, face, and cap, (With near two thousand pounds the hook was baited) With the three charms of riches, beauty, dress, Think of ought else; so no inquiry made he And here was certainly a great omission; Whatever be their prospect or condition, Of charming disposition, Alas! by thoughtless marriage has destroy'd it. Unless you can't avoid it. Week follow'd week, and, it must be confest, Both parties became tired: Their happiness was gone. Ah! foolish pair! "Bear and forbear" Should be the rule for married folks to take. The misery of themselves. To live together as we can't agree, With all my heart!" John Dobbins then to Mary's father goes, You will have seen As it has been My lot to see-I think you'll own your wife An interest in your case I really take, Where husbands rule-a horse bestow, Brisk and light-hearted: Not doubting that, of course, The first five houses each would take a horse. To hear a female voice, with angry roar, Why, husband, are you deaf? go to the door, Our poor friend John I will not, all his journey through, Suffice it here to say That when his first day's task was nearly done, "No," said the man, with smiling phiz, " but I own Said John, with great politeness; Pardon my rudeness, * London: Smith, Elder, and Co. 1827. (A wager to decide) to tell me-doWho governs in this house-your spouse, or you?' "Sir," said the lady, with a doubting nou, "Your question's very odd: But as, I think, none ought to be It always is my pleasure to obey. But here's my husband (always sad without me); Take not my word, but ask him, if you doubt me." "Sir," said the husband, " 'tis most true; I promise you, A more obedient, kind, and gentle woman Does not exist." "Give us your fist," Said John," and, as the case is something more than common, Come, sir, choose one; But take advice from me, Why, sir, you'll look the hero on his back." "I'll take the black, and thank you too." Nay, husband, that will never do ; You know, you've often heard me say "Friend, take the four others back, I must have the grey mare." Adding (with gentle force) "The grey mare is, I'm sure, the better horse." "Well, if it must be so-good sir, The grey mare we prefer : So we accept your gift." John made a teg; "Allow me to present you with an egg; 'Tis my last egg remaining The cause of my regaining, I trust, the fond affection of my wife, Whom I will love the better all my life. Home to content has her kind father brought me; I thank him for the lesson he has taught me." LORD ERSKINE'S LOVE OF ANIMALS. * # R. S. S. "I dined to-day [a day in January 1808] at Lord Erskine's. It was what might be called a great opposition dinner. Among the light and trifling topics of conversation after dinner, it may be worth while to mention one, as it strongly characterises Lord Erskine. He has always expressed and felt a great sympathy for animals. He has talked for years of a bill he was to bring into parliament, to prevent cruelty towards them. He has always had several favourite animals to which he has been much attached, and of which all his acquaintance have a number of anecdotes to relate---a favourite dog, which he used to bring when he was at the bar, to all his consultations; another favourite dog, which, at the time when he was Lord Chancellor, he himself rescued in the street from some boys who were about to kill it, under pretence of its being mad; a favourite goose, which followed him wherever he walked about his grounds; a favourite macaw, and other dumb favourites without number. He told us now that he had got two favourite leeches. He had been blooded by them last autumn, when he had been taken dangerously ill at Portsmouth; they had saved his life, and lie had brought them with him to town; had ever since kept them in a glass; had himself every day given them fresh water; and had formed a friendship with them. He said he was sure they both knew him, and were grateful to him. He had given them different names, Home and Cline (the names of two celebrated surgeons), their dispositions being quite different. After a good deal of conversation about them, he went himself, brought them out of his library, and placed them in their glass upon the table. It is impossible, however, without the vivacity, the tones, the details, and the gestures of Lord Erskine, to give an Sir San. vel adequate idea of this singular scene."Romilly's Memoirs. OLIVER CROMWELL. His speech on dissolving parliament, April 20, 1653, is a burst of extraordinary eloquence:-" It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonoured by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice. You are a factious crew, and enemies to all good government. Ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would, like Esau, sell your country for a mess of pottage, and, like Judas, betray your God for a few pieces of money. Is there a single virtue now remaining amongst you? Is there one vice that you do not possess? You have no more religion than my horse: gold is your god. Which of you has not bartered away your conscience for bribes? Is there a man amongst you that has the least care for the good of the Commonwealth? Ye sordid profligates' have ye not defiled this sacred place, and turned the Lord's temple into a den of thieves, by your immoral principles and wicked practices? You, who were deputed here by the people to get grievances redressed, are yourselves become the greatest grievance. Your country, therefore, calls upon me to cleanse this Augean stable, by putting a final period to your iniquitous proceedings in this house and which, by God's help and the strength he has given, I am now come to do. I command you, therefore, upon the peril of your lives, to depart inimediately out of this place. Go! get ye out; make haste. Ye venal slaves, begone! So! take away that shining bauble (the mace) there, and lock up the doors." 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. Complete sets of the Journal are always to be had from the publishers or their agents; also, any odd numbers to complete sets. Persons requiring their volumes bound along with titlepages and contents, have only to give them into the hands of any bookseller, with orders to that effect. CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE, "CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c. NUMBER 442. A FEW WEEKS FROM HOME. WHEN a person, in travelling southwards, reaches the neighbourhood of Newcastle, he finds himself suddenly transported into the region of railways, in which not only a new kind of locomotion, but a new order of things generally, may be said to prevail. A railway region is a very different thing from a district of country still lying in its primitive simplicity of common roads and common means of transport. The change from the one condition of things to the other is very striking, and is attended with both ludicrous and melancholy effects. As I performed a journey of several hundred miles by railways in different directions, I beg to offer a few words on this rather interesting matter. SATURDAY, JULY 18, 1840. digious increase will take place in the traffic by this great line of route.* The towns either actually upon the line or within a very short distance from it, are Leeds, Wakefield, Barnsley, Rotherham, Sheffield, Chesterfield, Belper, and Derby; and at the distance of a few miles are also the towns of Pontefract, Doncaster, Bawtry, Worksop, Mansfield, Bakewell, Matlock, Wirksworth, and Ashbourne. The North Midland Railway performs the important office of connecting the populous and wealthy districts employed in the woollen, the linen, and the cutlery manufactures of Yorkshire, and the hosiery, lace, and porcelain manufactures of Derby; and also, by means of the other railways joining it, will connect with the hardware manufactures of Birmingham, the hosiery and lace manufactures of Nottingham and Leicester, and the wool-growing districts of Leicestershire, Northamptonshire, and Warwickshire-all which places will have the most rapid and easy communication with London and the south and west of England. The entire length of the North Midland Railway from Leeds to Derby is seventy-two and a half miles. So much for the eastern and midland division of the north of England. As is well known, the line from London to Birmingham, and the Grand Junction extended from it to Manchester, have been some time in effective operation, and these, with the railway from Manchester to Liverpool, may be called old established concerns. Latterly, the Grand Junction, which strikes the Manchester and Liverpool at War North Union to Preston, passing Wigan in its course; and in a few months a new line will in addition be opened as far as Lancaster. Till the present time, the chief communication from the north with London takes place through this commodious channel. Reaching Preston by coach, the traveller is fairly embarked on the railway trains, and in ten hours reaches the metropolis, whence he may be transferred by other railways to different parts of the country. At present, England is in the course of being cut, bored, bridged, and banked, in nearly all directions by prospective railways, so that in a few years we shall be able to make excursions to the most remote quarters of the country with the greatest ease and expedition. Already I have spoken of the railway across the island from Carlisle, and this is the first which we stumble upon in going south. Adjacent to Newcastle there are several lines in operation, among which are one to Tynemouth, one to Sunderland, and a third which connects the Sunderland line with Durham. All these are, comparatively speaking, short railways. A line of grander character, called the North of England, is at present constructing from York north-rington, has been extended by the addition of the wards, and is designed to reach Newcastle; in a short time it will be opened as far as Darlington or Durham, and then, by means of the above-mentioned short railways, there will be an unbroken line of rails betwixt York and the Tyne. In travelling by coach southwards, we at different places see the line in active progress. Reaching York, a new railway awaits us, called the North Midland, which extends from that city to Derby, and is already opened at both ends, leaving about twenty miles in the centre in a state of forwardness. Proceeding by this line, and having arrived at Derby, we are next carried forward by the Birmingham and Derby Junction to a point on the London and Birmingham line, at a place called Hampton, and are thence sent directly onwards to London. We have, therefore, already, by these different lines, which, as may be supposed, are the property of different companies, an almost complete railroad from York to London, and soon another hundred miles will be added as far north as Newcastle, which, from certain ill-judged contentions of competing companies, must remain the limit in this direction for a number of years. Little doubt can be entertained that ultimately there will be a line from Newcastle to Edinburgh, either by the coast or through the interior; but before this, a railway from England will most likely have reached the west of Scotland. It has been projected to carry a line of railroad from London to Cambridge, and so on in a straight course by Lincoln to York, where it will join the North of England, and thus form a distinct and great artery of communication northwards. But there is little chance of this being speedily performed, and, for a number of years to come, the entire transit from the metropolis in a northerly direction will be first by the London and Birmingham, and then by its two great tributaries one from Derby, York, and Newcastle, and the other from Manchester, Preston, and Lancaster. This last mentioned will finally bring up the great bulk of the Scotch traffic from Dumfries, Paisley, Glasgow, and other western parts of the kingdom; and when this consummation is effected, the transit along the London and Birmingham, terminating at Euston Square on the northern side of the metropolis, will probably be augmented fourfold. To give an idea of the effect of these inpourings of tributary branches, I may state what came under my observation in travelling southwards. The train with which I started from Sheffield, at about nine in the morning, consisted of six carriages, a number which was increased to eight at Rotherham, where the union with the Derby Junction takes place; at the town of Derby, the large station enclosure yielded a contribution of other five carriages, making up the number to thirteen. These were now rapidly whirled along through a fine piece of country, receiving an accession of passengers at every stopping place, till we In this rapid view of matters in the eastern and middle part of the country, I have only mentioned the great line, or, as it may be styled, one of the main arteries of the railway system; it remains to be told that the principal thoroughfare receives branches, or pushes forth extensions, at different places in its course, not the least important being a cross branch from Manchester to Sheffield, not yet finished; a short branch in extension of this from Sheffield, now in operation, and bringing hundreds of passengers to the Derby Junction daily, the point of influx being at Rotherham; and a branch from Nottingham, which strikes the line at Derby. The North Midland, like*We write this, June 20, and observe by a newspaper announcewise, is extended to Leeds; and when this portionment that the North Midland is to be opened throughout from is opened, as well as the above side branches, a pro- Leeds to Derby on the 1st of July. PRICE THREE HALFPENCE reached Hampton on the London line. Here the train paused for about twenty minutes, till the train from Birmingham arrived, consisting of seventeen vehicles, exclusive of several trucks, bearing gentlemen's carriages and horses. A union of trains now took place, and produced a row of thirty carriages with trucks, resembling the side of a street in motion, and carrying along, as I calculated, from six to seven hundred passengers. This enormous mass, which was dragged along at the rate of at least twenty-three miles an hour by two locomotives, received accessions at some other stations on its way, and, finally, on reaching London, the debouche of passengers on the quay of the railway resembled the emptying of a crowded church. Nine trains go down, and nine up daily; and though seldom so large as this, the number of carriages being usually ten or twelve, yet the quantity of traffic, and interchange of passengers, between different parts of the country along the great line and its tributaries, are immense, and can be but faintly understood by those at a distance from the scene of action. The money drawn for passengers by the large train in which I reached London, could not be less than six hundred pounds. The weekly revenue of the London and Birmingham, alone, is upwards of L.16,000, and of the Grand Junction, L.9000. Five-and-twenty thousand pounds, weekly, on one extended thoroughfare! The fact is startling. South and west from London various railways have been projected, and some are opened for short distances in their proposed course. Only one important line has been opened throughout its entire length, being that which extends from the vicinity of Vauxhall, near London, to Southampton, a distance of seventy-seven miles. This is a well-designed and well-constructed railway. It pursues a curved line over the flat downs and moors of Surrey, and by several deep cuttings in the chalky eminences, reaches the rich agricultural plains of Hampshire, and finally terminates in the beautiful vale of the Itchin, close by Southampton and its navigable waters. As an independent line, with no towns of any consequence in its course, Winchester alone excepted, and depending only on its own traffic, it may be pronounced the boldest undertaking of the kind which has yet been completed. I am glad to learn that there is every prospect of the success of this line of railroad. I travelled several short stages upon it at different times, and made one entire journey to and from its southern extremity. There is an arrangement upon it worthy of imitation. Instead of only two kinds of trains, there are three, which differ considerably in character. One is called the Fast Train, which stops at but a few places, and consists only of first-class carriages, with a carriage for servants; it performs the journey in three hours-fare 20s. The next kind are Stopping Trains, which take up and let down passengers at twelve stations on the route, and consist of both first and second class carriages-fares 18s.and 12s. And the third kind is a train for goods, with uncovered carriages, the fare with which is only 7s.; the accommodation being nevertheless equal in all respects to that of the outside of a stage-coach. Both in my down and up journey by the first-mentioned of these trains, there was a string of ten or twelve carriages, each holding eighteen persons; and at some of the stations, such was the press of passengers, that several were in each case left behind for lack of accommodation-a circumstance, by the way, which I never saw occur on any other railway, there being apparently, in all cases, an abundance of carriages at command. Fully as much revenue is, I believe, expected to be ultimately realised by the transit of goods as passengers by this line of convey ance. At Southampton, docks, and other accommodations for shipping, are in a state of active progress, and it is anticipated, that not only much of the trade of Portsmouth will centre here, but that many vessels from the Atlantic will prefer disloading at Southamp ton in preference to sailing up the Channel to the Thames, and that their cargoes will be sent overland by railway to London. I am not able to offer any definite opinion on this comprehensive scheme of operations, but it appears very evident, that unless Portsmouth protect itself by establishing an independent line of railroad to the metropolis, its aspiring neighbour, Southampton, will at no distant day sweep up a large share of its inland and external traffic. Already, as may be seen from public announcements, Southampton has become the chief centering point for intercourse with the Channel islands and with Havre, and when a railway from the last-mentioned place to Paris is completed, this must become a preferable route to France and the countries on the Mediterranean. Of the short lines of railway connected with London, the principal is one of from four to five miles in length to Greenwich, and which appears about as visionary a speculation as can well be conceived, when put in competition with steam-boats, omnibuses, and other means of locomotion. It is laid entirely on brick arches, on a level with the tops of the adjacent houses, and must have cost much more money than sound prudence would have warranted. Yet this railway, after all, has its conveniences. The public have no reason to complain of it. From a motive of curiosity, I made a trip upon it last Whitmonday, which is a holiday of the working classes in London, and the occasion of a fair, or rather idle assemblage of people, in the town and park of Greenwich. It was computed that on this holiday occasion fifty thousand persons were carried by the different steam-boats to Greenwich from London; but this did not apparently diminish the vast crowds which pressed to the place of festivity by the railway. As a spectacle of a novel nature in connexion with the most wonderful improvement in the arts which has distinguished the present age, the scene of transit was of exceeding interest. For twelve or fourteen hours, a train was dispatched every fifteen minutes, returning as frequently; but for an hour or two at the period of greatest bustle, the dispatch was every five minutes. I happened to go in one of the five-minute trains. It consisted of fourteen carriages, each holding from thirty to forty persons, and was shot along its course, including a stoppage at the middle, in a quarter of an hour. The number of passengers by each train, of which this was a specimen, might be estimated at six hundred, yielding an aggregate fare of about five-and-twenty pounds. From morning to night, the entire number carried along and brought back could scarcely be fewer than fifty thousand, or equal to that carried by the boats. During the same day, there was procession in carriages through the principal streets of London, of a much more agreeable kind that of the members of the various temperance associations throughout the metropolis and its suburbs -and though this extended to several miles in length, and was composed of a vast multitude of well-dressed men and women, it did not seem to lessen the efflux towards the festivities at Greenwich. The Greenwich railway affords a share of its terminus at London Bridge to a railroad which is designed to be carried to Brighton, but which in the mean time is opened only as far as Croydon. On the opposite or Middlesex side of the Thames, a short railway has been constructed between Blackwall and the city at a prodigious expense, through much valuable property. Another line, called the Eastern Counties, intended to proceed to Yarmouth, has been opened as far as Romford, where it is likely to stop for some time. None of these lines of railroad is of such prospective importance as that which leaves the outskirts of the metropolis at Paddington, and is designed to reach across the country to Bristol; at present it is opened for only about thirty miles. The Great Western, as this line is termed, is one of the greatest and most expensive undertakings as yet set on foot. It pursues a course by Reading and Windsor to Bath, and so on to Bristol, forming a line of 117 miles in length, and, with one or two tributaries, opening up the whole west of England from Glo'ster southwards to Exeter. I have heard it mentioned that the Great Western line alone will cost five millions of pounds; and on seeing the works, and learning the history of the concern, this sum appears by no means unreasonable. Whether from a crotchet, or the sound judgment of the engineer, the width between the rails has been made seven feet, while on all other railways in this country the width is between four and five feet; the carriages, therefore, which run upon the Great Western must be necessarily confined to itself. The main object contemplated in this extreme width was the laying on of a more powerful class of locomotives, and this has been so far accomplished; but it is extremely doubtful if the unwieldy size of the vehicles and other circumstances, do not form a drawback which will more than compensate the anticipated advantages. The rails by this line are not laid, as is usually the case, on transverse blocks of wood or masses of stone, but, like those of the Newcastle and Shields line, are placed on squared longitudinal beams of timber, secured at intervals by cross rivets of the same material. The motion is, nevertheless, from what cause I know not, only a little more rapid though not more easy than on the ordinary lines. The only difference in the carriages is, that four instead of three passengers sit in the breadth. The speed at which the quickest-going trains on the various railways usually proceed, varies from twenty to thirty miles, but is sometimes as much as forty miles, per hour. Even in the most favourable instance, the rate of locomotion is greatly below what is possible. It is generally understood, that unless for stoppages, which cause a great slackening of speed, both in approaching and leaving stations, the rate of motion could be very easily sustained at fifty miles per hour. I have no doubt whatever that fast trains, which do not profess to stop on their journey excepting once in every thirty or forty miles for water, will ultimately, and if the public require it, proceed at a rate of sixty miles per hour. When this is accomplished, trains will regularly perform the journey from London to Edinburgh, all necessary stoppages included, in probably eight hours. According to the present comparatively slow rate of progression, the distance from London to Birmingham, which a year or two ago required twelve or fourteen hours by coach, is now performed in four hours and a half, and with perfect ease to the passengers. The London and Birmingham line, which was the first completed after that of Manchester and Liverpool, has always appeared to me to be among the best managed of the various railways, as well as the most complete in all its arrangements. There are accommodations on this line which I have seen on no other. On all the lines there are waiting-rooms both for ladies and gentlemen at the different stations; but exclusively of these on this line, there is a large and commodious house of entertainment at the Birmingham terminus, where meals stand ready prepared for the passengers. At a place half way from the metropolis, and where the train stops ten minutes, there is likewise a large establishment in the form of an open booth or shop, where tea, coffee, or viands of a more substantial kind, with different liquors, are sold on the instant to those who require refreshment. It would be well if every long railway in the country had similar establishments at convenient distances. Passengers who make the journey for the first time by the mail train, will be amused by observing a travelling post-office in the string of carriages. This "Grand Northern Railway Post-Office," as the inscription on its side denotes, is a carriage consisting of two small apartments, one of which is appropriated to the guard whose duty is to exchange the bags, and the other is fitted up with a table for sorting letters, and holes round the walls for their reception. The manner in which the duties of the clerk and guard are performed in this flying post-office, is strikingly significant of the new order of things introduced by the railway system. Outside the vehicle a species of net is extended by a hoop, and into this the letter-bags are dropped as the train sweeps onward in its course, the bags which are to be left being at the same time tossed from the window by the guard. The fresh bag of letters being received, it is speedily opened, its contents re-arranged, and a new bag for next town being made up, it is projected as before at the place of its destination. By this means a letter may be written, sent through the post-office, and delivered at the distance of twenty miles in the space of a single hour. showmen or frozen-out gardeners, picking up a few odd pence and shillings. We may pity these men, but we should at the same time remember that their system was a demoralising one to a great degree, as, indeed, this resorting to mendicancy helps to prove. Their gains were in general much above the value of their services, and were realised in a degrading way. Hence, while many, no doubt, were decent and worthy men, many others were unsteady, and some acted in a manner absolutely ridiculous. I remember one personage who was afflicted with such a plethora of wealth, that all the buttons on his clothes were halfcrowns, shillings, and sixpences. But there was arother, equally rich, who did things more genteely. On arriving at his destination, he threw down the reins with the air of a prince, touched his hat all round to the passengers, and having pocketed his coutributions, took his place in a gig with a liveried servant, who was waiting for his arrival. Many stories, equally deplorable, are told of the ruination of inns on the formerly leading lines of road. Some "houses" are entirely shut up, and others continue a feeble existence. One inn at Wperhaps the largest and oldest-established in England, is at present about to be abandoned by its proprietor. Previous to the establishment of the adjoining railway, it maintained in daily use thirty pairs of post-horses, and now it scarcely gives employment to two. But there are a hundred such cases, as every traveller by the old lines of road can readily testify. If, however, there be some individual losses, there are evidently great public advantages from the railway establishments. Every whero along the lines, and particularly at the stopping stations, improvements are less or more perceptible, and in some instances entirely new towns are rising into existence on the verge of the newly created thoroughfares. Trade, promoted by rapid personal transit and a cheap means of literary correspondence, is likewise acknowledged to be on the increase in every newly opened-up district. As yet, indeed, the great railway organisation in England, wonderful as is its extent and capacity, is only in its infancy, and a few years will necessarily be required for its perfection. When this period arrives, social improvement, in despite of every opposing principle, will be developed beyond the most sanguine expectations of its advocates. A STORY OF THE VENDEAN REIGN WHILE residing at Nantes, I had repeatedly heard of who had taken up his abode in a secluded cave, and a person, usually called the Wild Man of the Rocks, had there passed many years, only issuing forth now life from the charity of the neighbouring villagers. It and then by night to receive the means of sustaining was well known that he had been a physician in Bretagne, at the era of the first Revolution, and that he proscriptions of the terrible Carrier, one of the worst had escaped in some extraordinary manner from the of the many wretches whom the agitations of that time raised to note and power, and who made the city of Nantes the scene of calamities far exceeding those of even Paris itself. But no one knew the particulars of the history of Lormet, as the old hermit was named. I was seized with a curiosity to see him, and, after some difficulty, not only accomplished my wish, but prevailed upon him to relate to me the events which had affected him so deeply as to cause his voluntary separation from the society of his fellow-crea tures. There are certain excellencies in the arrangements of all the railways which deserve to be mentioned. Each line, being the property of a private association, is secluded from one end to the other from the intrusion of the public, and therefore no jostling or "I was thirty years old," said Lormet, whom I confusion takes place either upon entering or leaving found to be no maniac, as some supposed, but a calm the carriages. The rails of one line, likewise, join and thoughtful old man," and was engaged in the those of another, by which means carriages generally exercise of my profession in that part of Bretagne proceed onwards without changing passengers or called La Vendée, when the civil troubles began to luggage. A carriage in which we took our seats at London carried us straight on to Preston-that is, my employment consisted in my attendance upon the desolate our unhappy province. A principal part of along the lines of three companies. The extraordinary distinguished families of Josselin and Rochemaure, magnitude of the railway undertakings has enabled the existing members of which honoured me with the directors to organise rules which could never be their warmest friendship. These houses, connected enforced in the irregular scramble of stage-coaching. It is customary to dress the subordinate functionaries by frequent former alliances, were about to be still on all the lines in a uniform resembling that of the dor de Josselin and Hortense de Rochemaure, the more closely united by the projected marriage of IsiLondon police-each man having his number in- heirs of their respective families. The end of the year scribed in figures on some part of his dress; so that, 1792 had been fixed upon for this union. Isidor, the if any one be guilty of incivility or inattention, he can eldest of three sons, was at this time only twenty-two be easily reported to his superiors. There is one delight-years of age; but he had already given such indieaful peculiarity in the arrangements, which is entitled tions of talent, and had exhibited so many virtues, as to the highest commendation: it is the rule that no to be looked upon by the whole province as one desofficer shall on any account take a fee from passen- tined to high distinction among his countrymen. gers, on pain of instant dismissal. Those who imaHortense was an orphan. She had reached the age gine that fees to guards, coachmen, or waiters, are of seventeen years, and lived with the Marquis de requisite to ensure civility, will be surprised to find Rochemaure, her grandfather, by whom she was that railway attendants are infinitely more polite and almost idolized; and if beauty and amiability of chaattentive than their brethren of the coach conveyances. racter could excuse a feeling so strong, Hortense was This, in itself, gives travelling by railway a great supeone well worthy of it. The betrothed pair had been riority over all other modes of public conveyance. Talking of coachmen, reminds me of the wonder- fondly attached to one another from childhood, and ful change which has taken place in the fortunes of every thing was full of smiling promise for their future happiness. these personages near the great lines of railway in England. I heard of a town through which eighty stage-coaches used to pass daily to and from London: now there are only two. What a falling off for coachee! The men had ample reason to foresee the coming day of distress, but they made no provision against it. In the town just mentioned, a company of fifty guards and coachmen have adopted the expedient of public begging. They go about in a band, with trumpets and other instruments, like a knot of Such was the state of the two families when the stan dard of civil war was raised in the provinces, and a proclamation addressed to the gentry of Bretagne, calling upon them to take part with the republic. In the absence of her husband, who had gone abroad at the first outbreak of the Revolution, Madame Josselin repaired * This tale is abridged from a French work, entitled "The Hormit in the Provinces," the production of M. E. Jouy, a wellknown traveller in his native land. |