was to a hatter's shop, where Sir Benjamin-talking, however, earnestly the whole way to his friend-provided himself with a new hat, but with so much precipitation that it was unfitted to the head for which it was purchased. His liberator seemed now as much disposed to rapidity of motion as the other: they both entered a carriage together, gave directions to the driver to stop at one or two houses, and then dismissed him. in outwitting so many devoted fellow-worshippers at the shrine of Mammon. Thousands of men, like Sir Benjamin Bustle, would travel far, and exert themselves to the utmost, to make the most of their pecuniary talents, who would not move fifty miles to save the soul or the body of a fellow-creature (supposing them to possess the power in each respect)-whose diligence in such a cause would be sloth, and whose solicitude would be apathy. BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT GLASGOW. SECTION OF CHEMISTRY AND MINERALOGY. The clock of one of the principal public edifices of the city had just struck four, as the friend of the traveller came out of the building with the jaunty step of one who had effected an important purpose. He was immediately met by Sir Benjamin Bustle, who AT this section, on the Saturday of the meeting, there whispered some question in his ear, to which the was read an abstract of a report prepared and pubanswer appeared most satisfactory, for the knight in-lished by Professor Liebig, in consequence of a restantaneously exchanged his previous air of solicitude commendation of the association, on the applications and doubt for that of self-satisfaction and quietude of organic chemistry in agriculture and physiology. as he walked alertly along with his friend, his bright- The investigations of this foreign professor are of ened eye, rapid enunciation, animated action, and elas- great value, opening up some new views of incalcutic step, as he seemed to detail the circumstances of lable importance as to the nurture of plants, and his hurried journey, showed that he was at that mo- promising to be of immense practical utility in the ment a successful and happy man-he seemed at peace cultivation of the soil. with all the world, and on especially good terms with himself. If any close observer of the human character had marked his entire conduct and demeanour from the preceding evening at Southampton to the conclusion of his journey, and his present deportment, he would have felt certain that Sir Benjamin had been charged with an important mission of very difficult accomplishment, and that he had perfectly succeeded: he would readily have believed that the life of a fellow-creature--as intimated to the postboys-was the stake for which the indefatigable knight had run his rapid and anxious course. And the philanthropist would have honoured him for such exertions of a warm and active benevolence. The facts, however, were these. Sir Benjamin Bustle had gone down in a stage-coach on the preceding day to Southampton, on some mercantile business: at the inn where he stopped was a gentleman who had just landed from Lisbon, and who was evidently too much debilitated by his voyage to proceed to London without a night's repose. The travellers supped in the same room, and being both of the mercantile body, entered into conversation on commercial subjects; in the course of which an observation incautiously escaped from the Lisbon individual, which, if known on the Stock Exchange, would instantaneously produce a most influential effect upon the Portuguese funds, in which the London merchant had largely speculated, and in which the other also was deeply interested. Sir Benjamin, being a very shrewd man, said nothing of his promptly formed resolution of starting at daybreak the next morning for the city, in order to have a new speculation in the Portuguese funds completed before the arrival of the other gentleman in town, or any possible communication from him by which the important intelligence could transpire before his own arrival. Having at once perceived the bearings of the matter, he assumed an air of indifference, and avoided subsequent allusion to commercial subjects as much as possible; and, for the time, succeeded in satisfying the Portuguese trader that the importance of the disclosure he had unfortunately made had not been appreciated by his temporary companion; and, at all events, that there was no probability of the knight's going immediately to London, whence he had only that evening departed. Aware, however, of the vast importance of being himself in the metropolis, or communicating with his partners at the earliest possible hour next day, our Lisbon friend ordered a chaise to be ready at four o'clock in the morning, and departed at that hour precisely. His amazement, therefore, may be imagined, when he perceived that the carriage in advance of him at the first stage contained the portly and unmistakeable person of the alderman, whose movements now left no doubt of the real state of affairs. This accounts for the race between the parties, and Sir Benjamin's apparent extravagance in engaging all the horses at Basinstoke in order to have them out of the way on the arrival of the foreigner, who could not in such a case overtake the other, who had fresh horses the whole way onwards, and the start of some minutes besides. It has appeared that Sir Benjamin arrived critically in time for the attainment of his purpose. His available funds were applied by Mr Bankstock-a stockbroker, and the gentleman whom he so opportunely met in the street when detained by the police according to the instructions given by Sir Benjamin, who felt assured (and the transactions of the next day proved that he was right) that by this knowledge of the circumstances which had occurred in Portugal at the departure of the merchant in a fast-sailing packet from Lisbon, he must in a few hours realise fifty thousand pounds. He had unexpectedly derived the information on which the success of his speculation hinged, and taken advantage of it; and so far, perhaps, his conduct was not blameable in a worldly point of view, though his stratagem to prevent the progress of the rival speculator, and his pretence to the postboys of being employed on an errand of mercy, were unquestionably so. This, however, gave him little self-reproach, and he now congratulated himself on his exceeding cleverness NEW CHEMICAL VIEWS RELATIVE TO AGRICULTURE. The fertility of soils has hitherto been supposed to depend on a certain constituent in them, derived from the decay of former vegetables, and denominated humus. It was supposed that the carbon which goed so largely to the composition of plants, was derived from humus; in other words, that the same matter which constituted the carbon in plants of former years entered into the structure of new plants, and was thus used over and over again. The only modification of this view which physiologists admitted of, was, that the humus was first rendered soluble by lime, or the different alkalies found in the ashes of vegetables. Mr Liebig has found all this to be incorrect and unsound. He has shown, from the known quantity of the alkalies in the ashes of plants, in relation to the carbon they contain, that only an insignificant fraction of the carbon could be derived from humus in this way. He has shown that humus, for its solution, requires no less than 2500 parts of water, an amount which all the rain that falls upon a field in the course of a year could not supply. Finally, he has shown that, even where large crops are annually carried from a field or meadow, the quantity of humus increases. The carbon of plants, he therefore argues, must be derived from other sources; and, as the soil does not yield it, it can only be extracted from the atmosphere. That small modicum of carbonic acid which is found in the composition of the common air, furnishes, he contends, the main part of all that vast amount of leguminous and farinaceous substance which is every year brought forth for the use of man and beast! could only in these cases have been obtained from the atmosphere. Plants contain certain varying, but always small proportions, of other and grosser substances, as demonstrated by their ashes. Phosphate of magnesia, in combination with ammonia, is an invariable constituent of the seeds of all kinds of grasses. Plants also contain various organic acids, all of which are in combination with bases, such as potash, soda, lime, or magnesia. Of the different alkaline bases found in plants, Liebig finds reason to conclude, that any one may be substituted for another, the action of all being the same. But the number of equivalents of these The analysis of various bases remains the same. Bertherir and Saussure show that the nature of a soil exercises a decided influence on the quantity of different metallic oxides contained in the plants which grow upon it: that magnesia, for example, was contained in the ashes of a pine-tree, grown at Mont Breven, while it was absent from the ashes of a tree of the same species from Mont La Saile, and that even the proportion of lime and potash was very different. But although the composition of the ashes of these pine-trees was so very different, they contained an equal number of equivalents of metallic oxides; or, what is the same thing, the quantity of oxygen contained in all the bases was in both cases the samebeing expressed by the number 9.01 in one case, and the notice of the analyst himself. It is certain that by 8.95 in another, a coincidence which had escaped particular acids exist in different vegetables, and are necessary to their life; some alkaline base is also indispensable, in order to enter into combination with the acids, which are always found in the state of salts. The perfect development of a plant is therefore dependent on the presence of alkalies, or alkaline earths, and its growth is arrested when these substances are totally wanting, and impeded when they are only deficient. Hence it is, that of two kinds of tree, the wood of which contain unequal quantities of alkaline bases, one may grow luxuriantly in several soils upon which the other can scarcely vegetate. Thus 10,000 parts of oak-wood yield 250 parts of ashes, and the same quantity of fir-wood only $3 parts. Hence, firs and pines find a sufficient quantity of alkalies in granitic and barren sandy soils, in which oaks will not grow. Liebig supplies various additional illus trations of the influence of the alkaline metallic oxides on vegetation, amply sufficient to place beyond controversy these conclusions so important to agriculture and to the cultivation of forests. One of these may be quoted: a harvest of grain is obtained every thirty or forty years from the soil of the Luneburg heath, by strewing it with the ashes of the heath plants which grow on it. These plants, during the long period mentioned, collect the potash and soda from the decomposing minerals of the soil, which are conveyed to them by rain water; and it is by means of these alkalies that oats, barley, and rye, to which they are indispensable, are enabled to grow on this sandy heath. The supposition of alkalies, metallic oxides, or organic matter in general, being produced by plants, is entirely refuted by such well-authenticated facts. This opinion is not strictly new, but has never been fully appreciated by natural philosophers, partly in consequence of their imperfect knowledge of chemistry, and partly from certain objectionable experiments which were instituted by them to decide the point. Pure Carrara marble was pounded, seeds were It is thought very remarkable, that those plants sown in it, and sprinkled with carbonic acid water; of the grass tribe, the seeds of which furnish food but they did not thrive. The result was an inference for man, follow him like the domestic animals. But against this theory. But Mr Liebig shows that sevenone of our corn plants can bear perfect seeds, that is, ral other conditions to the healthy growing of plants seeds yielding flour, without a large supply of phoswere wanting in those cases, particularly the pre-phate of magnesia and ammonia, substances which sence of nitrogen and the earthy bodies which all they require for their maturity. Hence these plants plants contain. grow only in a soil where these three constituents are found combined, and no soils are richer in them than those where men and animals dwell together."* Mr Liebig has inquired into the power which is really exerted on vegetation by humus. This substance, he finds, in its decay, is a continued source of carbonic acid, which it takes in from the atmosphere, and emits slowly. Tilling is useful as a means of allowing the atmosphere to get down to the humus, in order to impart to it carbonic acid. The carbonic acid of humus is the support of plants until they acquire leaves, which, becoming organs for extracting the same substance from the air, then supersede the necessity of that element being derived from another quarter. The hydrogen which also enters so largely into the composition of plants, is derived by them from water, decomposed, Mr Liebig thinks, under the action of solar light, and from which oxygen (its other element) is set free. He has established the fact that the third of the organic elements-nitrogen -is uniformly derived by plants from ammonia. Most unexpectedly, he has demonstrated that ammonia exists in a minute proportion in the atmosphere. It exists in plants themselves, forming the red and blue colours in flowers. It exists largely in manure of various kinds. Mr Liebig believes that manure only acts by the formation of ammonia. There are some other substances which have been observed to produce very favourable effects upon soils. Such is pounded gypsum (the stone from which plaster of Paris is formed). Such also are burned clay and powdered charcoal. It has hitherto been incomprehensible how these substances should have so fertilising an effect. In reality, they only act as a means of extracting ammonia from the atmosphere, ammonia being the medium by which nitrogen is imparted to plants. That nitrogen is thus extracted from the atmosphere, there is an indirect proof in the fact that it is found in lichens which grow upon basaltic rocks; also that our fields produce more of it than we have given them, and it exists in all kinds of soils and minerals which were never in contact with organic substances. It In the We cannot here follow Professor Liebig into the applications which he makes of his discoveries to the purposes of the practical agriculturist; but these, we are assured, are of a most important kind.+ mean time, the great truth seems now ascertained, that the soil is but an apparatus for elaborating vegetable substances out of the wind and water which fly around our globe. If we might be allowed a playful remark on such a subject, we would say that the old superstition of the chameleon living upon air is true after all, and true of all the other vertebrata, man himself included; only it is not upon air in its direct form that the multitudes of earth are fed, but upon matters drawn from it by a chemistry as subtle as it is sure in its working, and which affords a most striking illustration of the power of the Deity to work out the grandest ends from the most simple means. A THIEVES' SOOTHSAYER IN MANCHESTER. The public are not perhaps aware how much it is the committing any offence, to consult some dealer in the custom in Manchester for young delinquents, before black art" as to the chances of their escape, or detect. tion and punishment. A striking instance of this practice recently occurred in the case of a youth, who being that it was not his fault, or from any want of dexterity apprehended in the act of committing a felony, declared on his part, that he had been apprehended, but that it predicted that he (the delinquent) would succeed in was his fate; for that Alexander the astrologer had three thefts, and be taken in the fourth attempt, and CHAMBERS'S EDINBURGH JOURNAL. that so it had turned out. Alexander being immediately apprehended by the police, was found with all the symbols of the "occult science" upon him; but he denied having any knowledge of these, and from some defect in the evidence against him, he was acquitted. This man (who is held in great reverence and fear by the young thieves in Manchester) is about sixty years of age, and has been for many years one of the greatest pests in the town.-Neale's Juvenile Delinquency in Manchester. EASTERN SPORTS. 359 which were trickling over her eyes and obscuring her the amount of courage requisite to perform such an tants, I enticed a favourite little Blenheim lap-dog, belonging to one of the ladies of the family, into the square, in view of the adjutants. The latter appeared at first undecided what course to pursue, a real Blenheim being a delicacy to which they had probably not been accustomed. In the mean time, the poor little deg, nothing abashed at the attention bestowed upon him, was sauntering carelessly and fearlessly along, as he might, under similar circumstances, have done at home, in a barn-yard well stocked with turkeys and fowls. At this moment, a huge adjutant gravely approached, and only moving the muscles of little animal, took him quietly up, and the next mohis countenance to yawn destruction on the unhappy receive him. A piercing shriek warned me, in my and about sixty miles from the latter, is a small place place of concealment, that other eyes had beheld the called Nelcondah, situated in a narrow pass between ment he disappeared down the deep abyss opened to metamorphosis of the dog into a 'swallow. The next On the high road between Madras and Hyderabad, instant, a fair form, with dishevelled locks, was rush-up his residence in the abandoned old fort which ing across the square; but 'twas too late. The adju- crowns one of these eminences, and committed almost two high hills. In the beginning of 182-, a tiger took tant majestically soared aloft, and I beheld him alight daily depredations on the numerous travellers passing on the highest pinnacle of a distant building, where, on that much-frequented road. He at last carried his like patience on a monument smiling at grief,' he audacity to such a pitch, as to walk off in broad dayleisurely and complacently appeared to await the pro- light with an officer's servant from the midst of a from having had him long in his service, related the master, who was much attached to the poor fellow party of sepoys. On arriving at Secunderabad, his circumstance, and Captain W of the commis THE dedication of "Scenes and Sports in Foreign Lands," a little work which has just passed through the press, is so extremely characteristic of the spirit which pervades its whole contents, as to be worthy of quotation:-"To his best and earliest friend, to the friend of the British seaman, and the pride of his profession, to 'Old' Charley Napier, C.B., Count Cape St Vincent, &c. &c., is dedicated this first production from the pen of his attached and grateful admirer, the author." It is proper to observe that this author, who so familiarly addresses the restorer of the Portugress of digestion." guese monarchy, is his near relative, Major E. Napier.* The style of the inscription would lead the reader to expect something lively and entertaining in the narrative which it prefaces, and in this respect he will not be disappointed. The major is a gallant soldier, fond of adventure, and abundantly stored with animal spirits-so much so, that they ooze from his pen at every page; and the "sports that mimic war," which he seems to have pursued with uncommon zest, afford him an abundance of incidents on which to build a lively and attractive narrative. India was the chief scene of our soldier's recorded adventures. We shall begin our extracts with a scene from our author's eastern sports, which will probably amuse the reader as much as it has done us. on the subject of dogs, I cannot forbear mentioning a "Whilst pack which we attempted to set on foot, and which, from the variety of curs of which it was composed, went by the name of the Baubery Hunt. Our ambition did not extend beyond bagged foxes and jackals; however, on one occasion, after circulars had been issued to all the members of the Baubery, stating the time and place of meeting, no fox was to be had for love or money; we were completely nonplussed. At last a brilliant idea struck me: I sent my servant to the bazaar, with directions to catch a dog that bore the greatest resemblance to a jackal; he returned with an animal certainly in shape not unlike what we wanted, but not at all tallying in colour, our captive being perfectly white. It was, however, too late to replace him; our only plan was to disguise him as best we might. There happened to be some red paint at hand; we set immediately about his toilet, and no lady ever applied rouge with more effect in five minutes he looked so beautiful that his mother would not have known him. But it was not in the power of paint to change the shape of his tail; therefore, having supplied ourselves with the brush of a defunct jackal, we cunningly fitted this to his spanker-boom with sundry pieces of whipcord; and putting the finishing touch to his dress by anointing him with oil of aniseed, he was carefully deposited in a sack, placed on the shoulders of a horse-keeper, and conveyed to a bit of jungle about a quarter of a mile from the meeting place, and four or five from the cantonment. We mustered on that day a strong field; it was, moreover, cloudy, and promised good scent. minutes' law was allowed to the painter;' the dogs were then put on his track, and went off full cry. Every one swore it was likely to be the best run we had yet had. I-n, an old Yorkshire breakneck, was in ecstacy. There he goes,' cried he, as we viewed the brute, 'there he goes! A fine fellow he is, and what a pace he keeps up! But hold hard, gentlemen; don't ride over the dogs.' hunt, and the parry was put down as a jackal of the I-n was the oracle of the first water. At first his long legs had the best of our little mongrel terriers, but their bottom soon began to tell. We were now running in view; and as we gained on him, several of the knowing ones began to be sadly puzzled; for although the paint was good paint, and had moreover been laid on thick, it was not entirely proof against bushes and water, and a piece of swampy ground we had just crossed had done a great deal towards softening the tints. short of a long story, the poor parry died the death To make amidst shouts of merriment from all who witnessed rouge and false feathers. I said all who saw the fun-but no; there was one, our oracle, who did not enjoy the joke: he said it was a boyish trick, withdrew his patronage, and never more risked his reputation by joining the Baubery Hunt.'" his Ten Those extraordinary creatures called adjutants, birds of great size which serve as scavengers for the Darracks at Calcutta, seem to afford infinite amusement to the officers stationed there. Major Napier records the following incident, told by one of his companions, respecting these huge, gluttonous birds :"Wishing to carry on my experiments with the adju *Scenes and Sports, &c., by Major E. Napier, 46th Regiment. In 2 vols. Henry Colburn: London. ↑ Baubery means noise or disturbance of any kind. that our gallant soldier's adventures with animals of to be frustrated. We had not been ten minutes in that, although my hand was steady enough when I maze. sariat, determined on avenging his death. formed by a stanch votary of Nimrod? And such mended to the general reader, as forming one of the Henry of Dublin, under the above whimsical title, has alone, met and shot a large bear. He must have far as Point Just-Enough. The clear and smooth water On another occasion, the major, when sporting from the beach of Soberland, where you take shipping, as "Nothing can exceed the beauty of the Drunken Sea been in great peril, but he speaks of the affair as coolly as if he had been shooting snipes. Having wafts from the shore the fragrance of a thousand flowers. is scarcely so much as rippled by the light breeze which an old (and comparatively inefficient) native attenheard of a most destructive bear, he sallied out with No mist ever broods upon the water, no cloud overcasts dant, "determined, in spite of rocks and briers, to penetrate into the heart of his stronghold, and beard for so this part of the Drunken Sea has been most approthe soft blue sky. The glorious image of the sun by day, the silvery face of the moon by night, are nowhere seen the lion in his very den; but in so doing I had to ento so much advantage as in the mirror of Pleasant Bay, ing some distance up the hill, I was often obliged name to the gentle breath which no more than fills your counter a thousand difficulties, for, after proceed- Point Just-Enough, and the wind, if you can apply that to creep along on all fours through this intricate sails, always in the same direction, the passage is so priately named. The current being always towards tion, followed by Chennoo, when, at the turn of a I had just emerged from this awkward posi-smooth and easy that it not unfrequently happens that rock, a large bear appeared within ten paces. The before he is aware that he has left Soberland. the voyager finds himself close upon the Point almost brute was advancing very slowly, and looking up in my face with the most ludicrous gravity, which I soon put an end to by giving him my left barrel through the head, whereupon the facetious monster barrel, and over rolled friend Bruin, apparently liferose capering on his hind legs; bang went No. 2 less. Immediately from the spot whereon he lay extended, arose a din which might have awakened the dead. For an instant I was taken quite aback, but soon recollected it to be a second edition of the music rock; and hastening to ascertain the cause, to my I had heard some days before from the top of the surprise I beheld two young cubs, holding on like prostrate dam, and roaring most lustily. I had no sick monkeys by the long and shaggy coat of their idea of letting the youngsters slip through my fingers; neck, and attempted to drag them off their maternal so running up, I laid hold of each by the scruff of the had only been in a trance, feeling something unusual hold. In the mean time, the old lady, who apparently going on, with an effort recovered her legs, and began with one fore-paw to wipe away the blood and brains porter hogsheads, or wine pipes, or spirit puncheons. It more agreeable the nearer you approach the Point. The sky and water still more delicious, and even the sombre All voyagers to Point Just-Enough agree in the account which they give of their passage across Pleasant Bay, and of the agreeable sensations experienced on approaching the Point; but they disagree very much in their statements respecting the Point itself: some say that it is farther off, others that it is nearer; some that it lies more to the north, others more to the east; many assert that it recedes as you approach it, while some maintain that it moves forward, and comes to meet you before you have more than half crossed Pleasant Bay. I love, oh, how I love to ride, to ride On the fierce, the foaming, madd'ning tide! And how on the horrors the storm doth blow. In the noisy hour, in the noisy hour when I was born; As welcomed to life the Drunk Sea's child. With wealth to spend and a power to range, We recommend this excellent parody on the favourite meetings. IMPROVERS OF AGRICULTURE. It is curious, that many to whom improvements in agriculture are traced, were not professional farmers, but men engaged in other pursuits, who, with cultivated minds, turned their attention also to this subject. Thus, the first English Treatise on Husbandry was written by Sir A. Fitzherbert, Judge of the Common Pleas in 1534, and from this, Harte, Canon of Windsor, in his Essays on Agriculture, dates the revival of agriculture in The voyage homewards from Point Just-Enough is England. Tusser, the author of "Five Hundred Points much less agreeable than the voyage outwards; the air of Husbandry," published in 1562, was a scholar of Eton, gradually loses its balminess, and the landscape its bril- and afterwards of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, before he liant colours; the current and wind, too, although gentle, yet being against you, make it necessary to tack, and applied to farming and literature. Sir R. Weston, who was Ambassador from England to the Elector Palatine thus render the passage tedious. There are few who do and King of Bohemia in 1619, introduced clover into not experience, as they return, some diuretic effect, as England; his Discourse on the Husbandry of Brabant well as a slight degree of thirst, the latter of which continues after landing, and even until bed-time, unless re- and Flanders was published in 1645, and is said to mark moved by tea or coffee. The night's sleep is less soft and the dawn of the vast improvements which have since refreshing, but at the same time heavier than if no visit been effected in Britain. Evelyn, who is considered had been paid to the Point in the day; and on awaking one of the greatest encouragers of improvements that the next morning, a degree of languor is experienced, and has ever appeared, was, as is well known, a gentleman sometimes even a little throbbing at the temples, which attached to literature and science, and often employed symptoms, however, disappear either during the making in the public service. He published, in 1664, his "Sylva, of the toilet, or soon after breakfast, and are succeeded or a Discourse on Forest-trees and the Propagation of by a strong desire for another voyage to Point Just-Timber in his Majesty's Dominions," with many other Enough. This desire being gratified with as little delay as possible, the same sensations are experienced, and the same consequences ensue; and thus a habit is formed which increases in strength, until at last a daily visit to Point Just-Enough comes to be considered almost as a necessary of life. Pleasant Bay is therefore covered from early morning until a late hour at night with boats conveying passengers of all ranks and descriptions to Point Just-Enough and back again. The intercourse is, however, by far the greatest from dinner-hour until tea-time, the evening being generally considered the most fashionable as well as the most convenient and agreeable time for the voyage. Some dine before they set out, but the greater number take their dinner on board. Tipsy Island is always full of visiters. The sensations experienced on this island differ only in degree from those which are felt at Point Just-Enough. The pulse and heart beat a little quicker and stronger, the eyes become brighter, the skin hotter, the face more flushed, the voice louder, the gestures more vehement, the conversation less connected, the ideas rambling and incoherent. Some dance, some sing, some swear, some fight, all stagger about; some become loyal, others patriotic, some poetical, others philosophical; all are veracious, disinterested, magnanimous, chivalrous. It is usual to remain several hours, and even to pass the night upon the island. A few remain upon it for several days to gether; but as it is considered discreditable to be seen upon it in the morning, those who regard appearances usually leave for Soberland some time before daybreak; many fall asleep on the island, and are carried in that state to their boats. In the morning, all awake unrefreshed, with a parched mouth, hot skin, red eyes, aching head, and no appetite for breakfast, and spend the day drinking soda water at the great fountain on the quay of Soberland, which looks toward Pleasant Bay, and longing for evening in order to return to Tipsy Island, or at least as far as Point Just-Enough. Tipsy Island is said to have been first discovered by Noah, who planted vines upon it. It was afterwards sacred to Bacchus, whose temple, situated about the middle of the island, is in a high state of preservation. It has been visited by Alexander the Great, and most of the illustrious men both of ancient and modern times, the names of many of whom are to be seen, carved with their own hands, upon the bark of the vines. Its daily visiters sing a song which runs nearly as follows: The sea, the sea, the Drunken Sea; The blue, the fresh, the ever free, the ever free. It runneth the earth's wide regions round; It plays with the soul, it mocks the skies, Or like a cradled monster lies, Or like a cradled monster lies. I'm on the sea, the Drunken Sea; I am where I would ever be, With heaven above, and hell below, And ruin wheresoe'er I go. If a storm should come, and awake the deep, works, which had a great influence in the improvement EXTREME DELICACY. 66 The disposition to be agonisingly delicate, is well "No! but what SUPERSTITION OF MR AND MRS COUTTS. The most striking evidence of her superstitious prejudice used to cause much wonder among the guests: and this was presented on the steps at Holly Lodge, which are composed of beautiful blocks of white marble, that a statuary might envy; but the highest step is disfigured by two rusty, old, broken horse-shoes fastened to it, which she and Mr Coutts had found in the road, and they had caused these hideous bits of rusty iron to be nailed on the threshold to avert evil, and bring good luck. -Memoirs of the Duchess of St Albans. AMERICAN CUNNING. Some years ago, during the heat of a coffee speculation his own business, he attended the sale and bade readily at prevailing prices for the coffee. Other holders, who knew that he had about four times as much on hand as they had, concluded that it was safe to do it when he did, and so stood up manfully and bought largely. While old Mr's carmen were tumbling his purchases into the front door of his warehouse, five times as many were carrying coffee away from the back door. One day he failed to appear at a coffee sale, and most of the dealers took the alarm, and prices declined a little. During the afternoon, a pretty large holder, who had always been ready to buy when he saw Mr willing, met him in the street, and asked the rate of coffee. "I don't know what it's going at to-day," replied the old fellow, as cool and pleasant as an ice-cream. "It declined a little this morning." "Did it ?" responded Mr, with what seemed to his fellow-tradesman a strange manifestation of indiffe moved countenance. with an un Why, you are into it deeper than any of us." "Me!" exclaimed Mr, in well-feigned astonishment; "why, I have not a single bag in my store." The next day the bubble burst, and a dozen grasping speculators, who had been for a month or two dreaming night and day over their golden gains, were ruined.American Paper. MILK AS AN ARTICLE OF DIET. For those who have healthy and unsophisticated stomachs, milk appears to be one of the best articles of diet we possess. It is less stimulating than flesh, and more nutritious than vegetables. For persons who are disposed to febrile complaints, and who are not obliged to perform hard and exhausting labour, it is the most appropriate diet. But the stomach is a creature of habit. It can become accustomed to any kind of diet; and sudden changes are liable to derange its healthy action. To those accustomed to what is called high living, such as strong meats, strong drinks, and high-seasoned food of all kinds, the transition to a milk diet, which contains a considerably lowered stimulation, would probably be an imprudent change. When necessary, the change should be so gradual that the stomach should by degrees become accommodated to it.-Beaumont's ExperimenÍS on the Gastric Juice, &c., by Dr Combe. THE MOTHER'S HEART. When first thou camest, gentle, shy, and fond, All that it yet had felt of earthly pleasure; Yet patient of rebuke when justly given- Haunting my walks, while summer day was dying;- Through the dark room where I was sadly lying, Earth's fragile idols; like a tender flower, The earnest tearful prayer all wrath disarming; LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W. S. ORR, Paternoster Row. Supplied also, wholesale and for exportation,, by WAREING WEBB, Castle Street, Liverpool; BANCKS and Co., and SIMMS and DINHAM, Manchester; WRIGHTSON and WEBB, Birmingham; SLOCOMBE and SIMMS, W. E. SOMERSCALE, and T. HARRISON, Leeds-of whom may be had all Messrs CHAMBERS'S publications. Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars EDINBURGH JOURNAL CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE," "CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c. NUMBER 462. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 5, 1840. A PLEADING FOR THE YOUNG. TAKE a walk out of town with an old and a young dog, and see how different in all respects are their behaviour. While the elder gentleman trudges slowly but steadily along the road, turning little to the right or left, except for particularly odorous hillocks or more than usually interesting friends of his own species, the youngster is over walls in all directions, coursing through fields after sheep, hens, or nothing, barking for joy even when chased by indignant shepherds or old women; at one moment a quarter of a mile to the right; next moment seen descending the wall on that side of the road, and quick as an arrow up the wall on the other side; then presently heard faintly at half a mile's distance to the left; two minutes more, and he is again scrambling down the wall, and dancing after his tail on the road before you. Seeing manifestations so different, one cannot well resist the belief that these are animals under totally different influences. The same thing is to be observed of the respectable old mouser who sits washing her sober face by the cottage fire, not moving for a whole evening, as compared with the pranksome kitten who cannot see a straw move on the floor without rushing to make fun with it, or, if nothing is stirring at all, will caper merrily up into the air, pirouette, and come down again, saying, as plainly as natural language can speak, "I can't help all this folly, for I am young, thoughtless, and happy!" Indeed, the young of most creatures are mirthful and frolicsome, as if there were some ordinance to that effect in Providence, and a good end in view to result from it-as no doubt there is. It must arise from the state of the vital spirits (to use common language) of the animal, and must be designed to promote some process in organisation for which lively movement is requisite. Probably, the fact simply is, that the system of the young animal needs incessant exercise to firm and strengthen it, and, to cause this exercise to be taken, a restless, endless disposition to fun and frolic has been implanted. None but the too serious could say that this view is derogatory to the dignity of the lord of nature. God is the author of mirth and of all that can promote it, as certainly as he is the creator of the most solemn affections. We may even here remember that the most inspired of worshippers danced before the ark, and thought it proper to call upon his people to enter the temple "with joy." Now, I would ask if, in all the range of human experience, an old dog was ever seen to express the least disapprobation of his junior, when the said junior was capering away beside him? Was the sagest old grimalkin ever known to interfere, when she saw her light-hearted son doing his best to entangle the bobbins of her mistress? Is there such a thing as an authenticated case of an elderly goat, with the most reverend of all possible beards, rebuking a kid for saying "Let's have a dance upon the heath?" I never heard of such a thing, and I do not believe that any young animal ever yet was snubbed by its seniors, let it be ever so outrageous in its fun. This is surely a most sensible thing in the grown-up people of the lower animal world, for, were they to do otherwise, they would assuredly be thwarting and impeding one of the processes of nature requisite for the welfare of their respective tribes. The young of the human family are as sportive as the young of any known animals, and probably for equally good reasons; but how are they treated? Unfortunately, man is a very wise creature. He has a vast deal of rationality about him, a deep sense of propriety, and thanks God that he was not left to nature. He therefore sets himself to keep down the indecorous good spirits of the young, and to make them all as grave as himself as soon as possible. "Less noise there, youngsters, or you shall all be put out of the room." "No nonsense, boys; do you ever see me leaping over chairs in that way?" "Come, now, here are fifteen hexameters to be got by heart, and the first rascal that sniggers shall be whipped." Such are the amiable addresses of the elderly Bimana to their young; the consequence of which, if there is any truth in our theory, must certainly be, that the intentions of nature (to use no higher word) are in their case defeated to a certain extent, and the organisation in that degree marred and enfeebled. Children are, altogether, most unfortunate creatures. The happy puppy is an independent member of the canine world, with every thing but a vote for a member of Parliament, in a few weeks from his birth. But the infant man is in tutelage for twenty-one years-and such tutelage! On many of the most essential points for the prosperity of their offspring, ninety-nine of every hundred fathers and mothers are as ignorant as they are of the quadrature of the circle. The predominating idea of almost all is to make the hapless little wretches intrusted to them as demurely wise as themselves. They have all of them a perfect recollection of their own sufferings under this process; but yet no one dreams that there is any thing wrong about it. It must have been all owing to the waywardness of the young mind that they were themselves restless and uneasy, if not dispirited and wretched, under the severe measures adopted by their parents. Or the severity had never been severe enough to accomplish the end. Wo be to the youngsters whose parents think they were not held tightly enough in by the generation antecedent! Children are not managed as children. They are treated as men and women, who, by some strange perversity in their nature, will not behave as men and women ought to do. The rebellious creatures won't sit still a minute, nor think for a moment. With splendid examples of decorum, rationality, and studiousness, constantly before them in their seniors, they will persist in every thing that is rantipole. Coaxing, bribing, thrashing-nothing will do. No, my friends, and that simply because the creatures are not men and women in a state of rebellion from the standard of propriety, but children, who will only be men and women by and bye, if you will allow them to grow. Ponder well, ye parents dear. Only consider what children are. Receive into your minds, if possible, the idea that there is such a thing as nature, producing endless diversities of being, and fixing regulations peculiarly adapted for the welfare of each. Look at the analogous case of the young of the speechless animals, and be convinced that there is something in the restless bounding spirits of your own juveniles, which cannot safely be altogether repressed. Much play, free vent to the spirit of jocundity-that is the proper maxim for the management of young people, because it is what nature dictates. We often recollect with pleasure the qualification which a friend of ours asked for in a teacher for his children-" Can you laugh and make fun?" It was strictly philosophical. The boy is not learning any thing when he is amusing himself, but he is strengthening his brain that it may be better able to learn and to act when the good time comes. Is it not better to begin life with the good sound instrument, fit for the utmost duty its natural reach of power admits of, than with an enfeebled instrument which has only got a smattering of a great number of things it does not comprehend? Old and precise people PRICE THREE HALFPENCE. like to see a quiet, grave child. In sober truth, there is nothing more alarming. It is almost sure to be an indication of some extraordinary quality of not a safe kind. There are varieties, of course; some are quieter than others; but for a young person to want all tendency to romping, and frolic, and gaiety, is, in the eye of a right philosophy, a thing not to be admired, still less to be desired, but, on the contrary, to be regarded with apprehension, and treated with care. A merry schoolmaster, I apprehend, is there particularly wanted. Children, as a class, are also sadly exposed to the distempered feelings of their seniors. On the one hand, we have extravagant indulgence, vitiating the character almost before it has had time to show the first spring-flowers of its native innocence-on the other, austerity, ill-nature, and gloom, making all the May of life a November, checking the growth of the affections, and introducing distrust and fear where as yet unsuspecting confidence should reign. Of the two evils, I have no hesitation in saying that the first is the least. There is a time between childhood and manhood when the character may be said to go through a process resembling fermentation, and the effects of spoiling and of simply erroneous treatment of various kinds are in a great measure thrown off. But take away from a child all the joyousness proper to his young years, and let him only know his parents, or others that have been around him, as tyrants, and the evil is irreparable. His life has wanted an element. He has not known that morning sunshine of the breast which is the brightest of all moral sunshine. Treated himself without gentleness, affection, and mercy, he has not the call of a recollection of his own experiences to treat others with gentleness, affection, or mercy. He is rather disposed to revenge his own sufferings upon other people, as the genie confined in the barrel and thrown into the sea vowed to destroy whoever let him out. Thus sourness goes down like an estate with a family, and the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children even unto the third and fourth generation. How many a man known in public as a hard-natured person, unforgiving of debtors, inaccessible to petitions from the widow and orphan, rigid as a master and in all the relations of life, unbending even to gratify himself, might point, for the source of all his unfortunate qualities, to a parental home which was to him only a den of misery! If thus bad to those who had no share in blighting his infant happiness, how can he be good to those who did? It is surely most absurd to treat children harshly, and yet expect them to love and reverence us! In the common world, if we constantly rail at any one, call him contumelious names, beat him, and visit him with every kind of injustice, do we find that he loves us the more? Is not rather the slightest departure from civil usage the surest plan to produce aversion in both our equals and inferiors? How strange, when this is so clear, that we should suppose we can wound the self-esteem and sense of justice of a child, besides inflicting actual pain upon his flesh, and that he nevertheless will continue to love us! It is no doubt necessary to take firm measures with children, in order to keep them right in many instances; but a constant exhibition of harshness and oppression is not necessary, any more than it is in our ordinary intercourse with the world. Many men, however, who would not for a great deal use a word out of joint before company or in the transaction of business, allow themselves the latitude of Billingsgate and of a slave-owner in their intercourse with their children. It would be wrong to say that young people remember these insults and injuries as grown people would, for the mind at that time of life has not the same power of retaining impressions which it possesses in its maturity. But can we doubt that a general impression of the treatment received in the parental home is retained? I have heard men in middle life speak with heart-felt indignation of the cruel usage they had received from their parents, and make no scruple to avow any thing but respect for their memories. The long-protracted misery had eaten into their nature, and principle, though it could make them forgive, could not make them forget it. On the other hand, I have heard persons in mature life advert with melting tenderness to little acts of kindness extended to them in their childhood by parents and neighbours. No, no; the years of childhood never can become a blank in the memory. The incidents of those years may not in all instances be reckoned individually, but they tell in the mass. The rationally kind parent is thought of in association with the recollection of that happiness which he promoted or was the occasion of, and may hope to be treated in his own latter pupilage with a return of the courtesy and the humanity which he showed to his children; but for the severe parent what can be expected but that he should be looked back upon as the dismal deity who presided over a period of misery-an object of involuntary horror, loathing, and contempt? Other sufferings the young experience in many instances, in consequence of the unfortunate circumstances of their parents. The young of the poor, says good Charles Lamb, are not brought up, they are dragged up. But these are evils which it may be presumed no parents would see their little ones exposed to, if they could help it. Here, it may be said, they only undergo their share of the unavoidable hardships of life. And yet it is much more sad, somehow, to think of the children's share, than that of the parents. It may be because the former are so utterly helpless to screen themselves from or to remove out of the way of the evils of poverty-not even able to recognise what it is that produces their sufferings while the parents have at least some control over their own fate. However the case may be in these respects, it is obvious enough that such sufferings tell as severely as any others upon the young, repressing the natural spirits, introducing sadness where joy should be, and leaving a memory of pain to cast its long shade over all the future years of life. It may be said of such children that they have had no youth. That delightful season, with all its associations, is a blank in the calendar of their lives. Can we doubt that, in their case also, evils flow, and will flow to the end of their days, from a defect so unnatural? Oh, parents, if by any means ye can spare your children any share of your own mishaps, be entreated to make every exertion to do so. Shelter the tender bloom of their minds from the blasts of misfortune. Let them sport, unknowing that you weep. Give them, if you can, a youth, and so ensure to them not only a positive period of happiness, comprising no slight part of their stated span, but also one of the highest sources of enjoyment for the remainder of their existence. shortly obviated, for by an act* recently passed by the legislature, a commission, with the registrar-general of births, deaths, and marriages at its head, is to be formed for taking an account of the population of Great Britain, with power to divide the country into districts, and to appoint persons as enumerators for each district for taking such account. The period named for taking this account of the population, is the 1st of July 1841. The registrar-general next adverts to the manner in which the records deposited in his office may be rendered useful in illustrating the condition of the people; and this appears to us the most interesting part of the report. The registers of marriages, for instance, are calculated to throw much light upon the state of education, with respect to the ability to write, among the adult population in England and Wales, every marriage almost being duly registered, and every register of marriage signed by the parties married, "those who are able writing their names, and those who are unable, or who write very imperfectly, making their marks." It must be borne in mind, however, that this will only enable us to arrive at the proportion of persons who are able to write among those married; and the portion of the whole population exhibited in the yearly returns of marriages is small. In the report before us it is estimated at about seven or eight marriages to one thousand of the population. "If, therefore, it be assumed that persons between the ages of eighteen and sixty-five constitute half the population (which the enumeration of ages in 1821 shows to be very nearly the case), it will follow, that of those who may be considered the marriageable portion of the community, about thirty in every thousand (or three per cent.) are married yearly. The portion, therefore, whose signatures appear in the marriage registers of a single year, is sufficiently small to be easily affected by accidental circumstances; and it cannot safely be asserted that the thirty in one thousand, from whose signatures we would draw an inference respecting the other nine hundred and seventy, may not happen to consist of more than the proportionate number of uneducated persons. It must not therefore be hastily assumed, upon the evidence afforded by the returns of a single year, that the inhabitants of any particular county or district are less educated than their neighbours. The experiment must be repeated often, and be attended with similar results, before this inference can be drawn with safety; and it is only when returns of the same description, given for several successive years, shall have exhibited similar facts, that it will be perfectly justifiable to arrive at any unfavourable conclusion with respect to any particular district." REPORT ON BIRTHS, DEATHS, AND MARRIAGES and in North and South Wales, of the persons mar "which, compared with the numbers for the preceding year, show, for births, an increase of 80,828; for deaths, a decrease of 4949; for marriages, an increase of 9602." This decrease in the number of deaths, as compared with that of the preceding year, the registrar-general ascribes to a diminished mortality, and not to imperfect registration. "I have found no reason," says he, "to believe that the registration of deaths has been conducted with less care and efficiency than before; but in comparing recent returns of the causes of death with those of the first year of registration, I have found reason to believe that the mortality of that year was above the average, owing to the inclemency of the winter in the beginning of the year 1833, and to some epidemics, the prevalence and severity of which appear to have subsequently de clined." With respect to the proportion of the mortality to the population of England and Wales, it has been found impossible at present to do more than approximate to a solution of that important question, owing to the want of correct data for arriving at an estimate of the population. This difficulty will, however, be From the registers of marriages deposited in his office during the year ending June 1839, the registrar-general has constructed a table, exhibiting the proportion per cent. in the metropolis, in each English county, ried who have signed with their marks. This return indicates a decided superiority with regard to education, or rather the ability to write, in the metropolis, as compared with the rest of England and Wales, and, next to the metropolis, in the north of England. The counties in which the proportion of persons married who are unable to write is greatest, appears to be in Lancashire, Bedfordshire, Monmouthshire, and Wales. There is one remarkable circumstance apparent in this table, namely, that throughout the whole the ability of the men to write appears superior to of England and Wales, without a single exception, that of the women. The proportions per cent., for the whole kingdom, of the parties who have signed the registers with marks, are thirty-three in the number of males, and forty-nine in that of females, the mean number being forty-one. It must be remembered that these calculations regarding the ability to write give no insight into the amount and nature of the education now afforded in England, and that they are only applicable to the past, a period of between ten and twenty years ago. "Inability to write," says the registrar-general, " is, without doubt, indicative of considerable deficiency in differ as to the extent to which such deficiency may other kinds of elementary education. Opinions will from thence be inferred; and this is a question the solution of which I will not attempt." We shall conclude our brief notice of the report before us with an extract of a novel and interesting riages that occur at the various stages of human life kind, containing an account of the number of marthroughout this kingdom. "The average age at which persons are married in England and Wales has never yet been ascertained, nor do the returns deposited in this office enable me to do so with certainty; for the column headed age' in the register of marriage is required to be filled not by the actual ages of the parties married, but only by a statement whether each is of full age or a minor. There was, however, considerable misapprehension on this subject, not withwhen the recent registration and marriage-acts first standing my endeavours to circulate information, 3d and 4th Vict. cap. 99. came into operation; and it appeared, on the reception of the quarterly returns of certified copies, that in many districts the precise ages of the parties married had been uniformly inserted. This being the case, and as the information is of a novel kind, I subjoin the result of an examination of the recorded ages in 4858 marriages, which, as they are not selected instances, but belonged to districts varying greatly in in such districts, thus comprising persons of every situation and character, and included every marriage class, may be presumed to be a fair example of the ages at which marriages occur throughout the whole kingdom. Agea 25 Women. Men. CHARLOTTE MURRAY and Susan Mills were companions in their childhood. The first of them was and her children by cultivating a few acres of infethe daughter of a poor widow, who supported herself rior land, situated in a lonely part of the county of Clare. Charlotte, the eldest of the family, was trained in her youth to every species of rural labour, and more particularly to the task of bringing turf from the adjoining hills. In this occupation she was often joined by the children of the neighbourhood, and, in especial, by Susan Mills, the daughter of a farmer of the better class, who lived hard by. Susan did not absolutely require to work like Charlotte, but she followed the same employments as the latter, from a love of companionship and amusement. girls remained in their native place till they grew to womanhood, and by this time their respective characters were in part developed. Susan, who was very pretty, displayed an early love of dress and show. The other had neither the same inclinations, nor the means of indulging them, though she was scarcely less comely than her friend. The two Susan was the first to quit her home. Her father declined in circumstances, and she had to look out for a place. She had, according to her mother's notions, received a good education-that is to say, she read fluently, could write a little, was very expert at her needle, and had a tolerable knowledge of mantuamaking; she was generally handy, and had a good address. With such qualifications, it was not difficult for her to procure a place in a respectable family, where her business was to take care of children, and occasionally to wait upon her lady. This situation pleased Susan particularly. She received from her mistress frequent presents of clothes, which, by her expertness and ingenuity, she made look nearly as good as new, and which, though she was kept pretty the village beaux. When she had been about a year busy, she contrived to display to the admiring eyes of at Mrs Halford's, the widow Murray, understanding that a person was wanting there to assist the housemaid, and to do the drudgery of the nursery, applied for the place for her daughter, and obtained it. Susan was by no means pleased at this arrangement, as she did not desire to have another pretty girl to share with her in the attentions of the smart young men who frequented Halford Hall. Upon reflection, however, she judged that her own superior elegance of attire, and coquettish airs, would always ensure her a decided preference. Charlotte had, indeed, but little opportunity of attracting admiration, for she had a great deal to do. Her early habits of laborious industry, however, enabled her to perform her task with ease and cheerfulness; she gave her whole mind to her business, and soon became the most efficient servant in the house. Susan, adroit and clever, was, while under her miscould escape with impunity, she made no scruple of tress's eye, an excellent attendant; but the moment she leaving her business and running off in search of diversion. It was Mrs Halford's custom to visit the nursery every night, to see that the children were asleep and the maids in bed. One night after the lady's visit was over, Charlotte, who had been in a sound sleep, was awakened by the cries of one of the children who usually slept with Susan : on rising to see what was the matter, she was surprised to find that Susan had left the room, and was gone down she returned to her own little charge, and continued stairs. Having quieted the child as well as she could, awake, watching for the return of her fellow-servant; but one o'clock, two o'clock struck, and no Susan |