CHAMBERS' EDINBURGH JOURNAL

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

 NO. 429. NEW SERIES. SATURDAY, MARCH 20, 1852. PRICE 1-1/2_d. _

THINGS IN EXPECTATION. 

The passing age is acknowledged to be remarkable in various respects. Great advances in matters of practical science; a vast development ofindividual enterprise, and general prosperity;--at the same time, strange retardations in things of social concern; a singular want ofearnestness in carrying out objects of undeniable utility. Muchgrandeur, but also much meanness of conception; much wealth, but alsomuch poverty. A struggle between greatness and littleness;intelligence and ignorance; light and darkness. Sometimes we feel asif going forward, sometimes as if backward. One day, we seem as ifabout to start a hundred years in advance; on the next, all is wrongsomewhere, and we feel as if hurriedly retreating to the eighteenthcentury!

Upon the whole, however, we are ourselves inclined to look at thebright side of affairs; and in doing so, we are not without hope ofbeing able to make some proselytes. Let us just see what are theprospects of the next twenty years--a long enough space for a man tolook forward to in anything else than a dream. War, it is true, mayintervene, or some other terrible catastrophe; but we shall not admitthis into our hypothesis, which proceeds on the assumption, thatalthough people may wrangle here and there, and here and there fly ateach other's throats, still the bulk of civilised mankind will go ontranquilly enough to present no direct barrier to the advancing tide. Here is a list of a few trifles in expectation. 

A line of communication by railway from England to the principalcities in India, interrupted only by narrow sea-channels, and thesebridged by steamboats. It will then be possible to travel from Londonto Calcutta in a week. 

At the same time, there will be railways to other parts ofAsia--Ispahan, Bagdad, Damascus, and Jerusalem. From thelast-mentioned city, a line will probably proceed through the land ofEdom, to Suez and Cairo; thence to Alexandria. This last portion isalready in hand. Think of a railway station in the Valley ofJehoshaphat! As the course of the Jordan presents few 'engineeringdifficulties, ' there might be a single line all the way from Nazarethto the Dead Sea, on which a steamer might take passengers to theneighbourhood of Petra. At a point near the shore of that mysterioussheet of water, a late traveller indicates the spot where Lot's wifewas transformed into a pillar of salt. How interesting it would be tomake this a stopping-place for tourists to view the adjacentscenery--rocky, wild, and scorched, as if fresh from the wondrous workof devastation!

It cannot be doubted that in a period much short of twenty years, railways will have penetrated from Berlin northwards to Russia; andtherefore a communication of this kind through the whole of Europe, even to the shores of the Indian Ocean, will be among the ordinarythings of the day. 

As for communication by electric telegraph, where will it not be?Every town of any importance, from Moscow to Madras, will be connectedby the marvellous wires. These wires will cross seas; they will reachfrom London to New York, and from New York to far-westerncities--possibly to California. The sending of messages thousands ofmiles, in the twinkling of an eye, will be an everyday affair. 'SendDr So-and-so on by the next train, ' will be the order despatched by afamily in Calcutta, when requiring medical assistance from London; andaccordingly the doctor will set off in his travels per express, fromthe Thames to the banks of the Ganges. Spanning the globe by thoughtwill then be no longer a figure of speech--it will be a reality. Science will do it all. 

Long before twenty years--most likely in two or three--a journey roundthe world by steam may be achieved with comparative ease and at nogreat expense. Here is the way we shall go: London to Liverpool byrail; Liverpool to Chagres by steamer; Chagres to Panama by rail;Panama to Hong-Kong, touching at St Francisco; Hong-Kong to Sincapore, whence, if you have a fancy, you can diverge to Borneo, Australia, andNew Zealand; Sincapore to Madras, Bombay, Aden, and Suez--the whole ofthe run to this point from Panama being done by steamer; Suez toCairo, and Cairo to Alexandria (rail in preparation); lastly, bysteamer from Alexandria to England. It is deeply interesting to watchthe progress of intrusion on the Pacific. Already, within these fewyears, its placid surface has been tracked with steam-navigation; ofwhich almost every day brings us accounts of the extension over thatbeautiful ocean. Long secluded, by difficulty of access from Europe, it is now in the course of being effectually opened up by the railwayacross the Isthmus of Panama. And the grandeur of this invasion bysteam is beyond the reach of imagination. Thousands of islands, clothed in gorgeous yet delicate vegetation, and enjoying the finestclimate, lie scattered like diamonds in a sea on which storms neverrage--each in itself an earthly paradise. When these islands can bereached at a moderate outlay of time, money, and trouble, may we notexpect to see them visited by the curious, and flourishing as seats ofcivilised existence? There is reason to believe, that the equableclimate of many of them would prove suitable for persons affected withthe complaints of northern regions; and therefore they may become theSanatoria of Europe. 'Gone to winter-quarters in the Pacific!'--apleasant notice this of a health-seeking trip twenty years hence. 

It may be reasonably conjectured, that this great and varied extensionof journeying round the earth, and in all climates, will not beunaided by new discoveries in motive power. At present, we speak ofsteam; but there is every probability of new agents being brought intooperation, less bulky and less costly, before twenty years elapse. Even while we write, men of science are painfully poring over thesubject, and giving indications that in chemistry or electricityreside powers which may be advantageously pressed into the service ofthe traveller. Admitting, however, that steam will be retained as theprevailing agent of locomotion, we have grounds for anticipatingimprovements in its application, which will materially cheapen itsuse. As regards safety to life and limb, much will be done by betterarrangements. In steam-voyaging, we may expect that means will beadopted to avert, or at least assuage, the terrible calamities ofconflagration and shipwreck--better acquaintance with the principlesof spontaneous combustion, and with the natural law of storms, beingof itself a great step towards this important result. 

One of the latest wonders in practical science, is a plan for coolingthe air in dwellings in hot climates; by which persons residing inIndia, and other oppressively warm countries, may live habitually inan atmosphere cooled down to 60 degrees Fahrenheit, or the ordinaryheat of a pleasant day in England. The very ingenious yet simple meansby which this is to be effected, will form the subject of notice inour next number. Meanwhile, we may observe that the discovery is dueto Mr C. Piazzi Smyth, astronomer-royal for Scotland; and if perfectlysuccessful in practice, of which there can be no reasonable doubt, itwill have a most important effect in extending European influence overthe globe. 

The extension of the English language over the civilised world is acuriosity of the age. French, German, Italian, and other continentaltongues, seem to have attained their limits as vernaculars. Each isspoken in its own country, and by a few fashionables and scholarsbeyond. But the language which pushes abroad is the English; and itmay be said to be rooting out colonised French and Spanish, andbecoming almost everywhere, beyond continental Europe, the spoken andwritten tongue. Long the Spanish enjoyed the supremacy in CentralAmerica; but it has followed the fate of the idle, proud, combative, and good-for-nothing people who carried it across the Atlantic, and isdisappearing like snow before the sun of a genial spring. The soonerit is extinct the better. Already the English is the vernacular fromthe shores of the Atlantic to the Pacific, wherever civilisedsettlements are formed. As large a population now speaks this nervouslanguage in America as in Great Britain; and this is only anindication of its progress. By means of a rapidly-increasingpopulation, the English language will in twenty years be spoken byupwards of fifty million Americans; and if to these we add all withinthe home and colonial dominion, the number speaking it at that periodwill not be short of a hundred millions. What an amount ofletter-writing and printing will this produce! And, after all, howsmall that amount in comparison with what will be seen a hundred yearshence, when many hundred millions of men are on the earth, English inspeech and feeling, whatever may be their local and politicaldistinctions! The gratification which one experiences in contemplatingfacts of this kind, transcends the power of language. To allappearance, our English tongue is the expression of civil andreligious freedom--in fact, of common sense; and its spread over theglobe surely indicates the progress of civilised habits andinstitutions. 

In referring to the qualities which are usually found in connectionwith the prevalence of English as a vernacular, we are led toanticipate prodigious strides in the popularising of literature duringthe next twenty years. What, also, may we not expect to see done forthe extension of epistolary correspondence? Intercourse by letter hasadvanced only one step of its progress, by the system of inlandpenny-postage. Another step remains to be effected: the system ofcarrying letters oversea on the same easy terms. That this OceanPenny-Postage, as it is termed, will be carried out, at least asregards the larger British colonies, within a period much under twentyyears, is exceedingly probable. When this grand achievement isaccomplished, there will ensue a stream of intercommunication withdistant lands, of which we can at present form no proper conception, and which will go far towards binding all parts of the earth in ageneral bond of brotherhood. 

Such are a few of the things which we may be said to be warranted inlooking for within a reasonably short period of time. Other things, equally if not more contributive to human melioration, are lessdistinctly in expectation. The political prospects of the continentalnations are for the present under a cloud. With all the glitter ofartistic and social refinement that surrounds them, the bulk of themappear to have emerged but little beyond the middle ages; and onereally begins to inquire, with a kind of pity, whether they havenatural capacities for anything better. The near proximity to Englandof populations so backward in all ideas of civil polity, and sochangeful and impulsive in their character, cannot but be detrimentalto our hopes of national advancement among ourselves; so true is itthat peace and happiness are not more matter of internal convictionthan of external circumstances. 

Unfortunately, if there be something to lament in the condition of ourneighbours, there is also something to humiliate on turning ourattention homeward. In a variety of things which are required to givesymmetry and safety to the social fabric, there appears to be analmost systematic and hopeless stoppage. 

Nearly the whole of the law and equity administration of England seemsto be a contrivance to put justice beyond reach; and whether anysubstantial remedy will be applied during the present generation maybe seriously doubted. 

It is universally admitted that, for the sake of the public health, interment in London and other large cities should be legallyprohibited; and that various other sanitary arrangements in relationto these populous localities should be enforced. Yet, legislation onthis subject seems to be beyond the grasp of statesmen. 

The system of poor-laws throughout the United Kingdom is, with thebest intentions, a cause of widely-spread demoralisation. These laws, in their operation, are, in fact, a scheme for robbing the industriousto support the idle. But where is the legislator who will attack andremodel this preposterous system?

The prevention of crime is another of our formidable socialdifficulties. Every one sees how young and petty criminals grow up tobe old and great ones. It is admitted that the punishment of crime, after disorderly habits are confirmed, is no sufficient check; andthat, if the evil is to be cured, we must go at once to its root. Butwhen or how is this to be done? Again, there is a call for thatscarcest of all things--statesmanship. 

The bitterness of sectarian contention is another of the things whichone feels to be derogatory to an age of general progress. No longerare men permitted to kill each other in vindication of opinion, buthow mournful to witness persecution by inuendo, vituperation, andeven falsehood. Individuals and classes are seen bombarding each otherin vile, abusive, and certainly most unchristian language, allostensibly in the name of a religion which has for a fundamentalprinciple, an utter repudiation of strife! Whether any amendment is tobe looked for in this department of affairs within the next twentyyears is exceedingly uncertain. 

In the roll of disheartening circumstances in our social condition, itwould be unpardonable to omit the enormities of intemperance, which, though groaned over day after day, remain pretty much what they havebeen for years; and it is to be feared, that so long as reformersconfine themselves to attacking mere symptoms, instead of going to thefoundation of the evil--a deficiency of self-respect, growing out of awant of instruction in things proper to be known, and for which theeducation of the country makes no provision--all will be in vain. Howfar there will prevail a more enlarged view of this painful subject, is not discoverable from the present temper of parties. 

The legislative conservation of ignorance in the humbler classes ofthe community, to which reference has just been made, is surely a bloton our social economy. It is seemingly easier to girdle the globe witha wire, than to make sure that every child in Her Majesty's dominionsshall receive the simplest elements of education. Within the sphere ofthe mechanic or the chemist, flights beyond the bounds of imaginationmay be pursued without restraint, and indeed with commendation; butanything in social economics, however philanthropic in design andbeneficial in tendency, falls into the category of disputation andobstruction; and, worst of all, education, on which so much depends, is, through the debates of contending 'interests, ' kept at a pointutterly inadequate for the general enlightenment and wellbeing. 

Thus, many matters of moment are either at a stand, or advancing byfeeble and hesitating steps, and the distance to be ultimately reachedremains vague and undefinable. At the same time, it is well to beassured that improvements, moral and social, are really in progress;and that, on the whole, society is on the move not in a retrogradedirection. Even with a stone tied to its leg, the world, as we havesaid, contrives 'to get on some way or other. '

THE WRECKER. 

On a certain part of the coast of Brittany, some years back, a gang ofwreckers existed, who were the terror of all sailors. Ever on thelook-out for the unfortunate vessels, which were continually dashedupon their inhospitable shores, their delight was in the storm and theblast; they revelled in the howling of fierce wind, and thelightning's glare was to them more delightful than the brightest showof fireworks to the dweller in large towns. Then they came out indroves, hung about the cliffs and rocks, hid in caverns and holes, andwaited with intense anxiety for the welcome sight of some gallant shipin distress. So dreadful were the passions lit up in these men by thelove of lucre, that they even resorted to infamous stratagems to lurevessels on shore. They would light false beacons; and strive in everyway to delude the devoted bark to its destruction. 

The village of Montreaux was almost wholly inhabited by men, who madewrecking their profession. It was a collection of miserable huts, built principally out of the broken materials of the various vesselsdriven on shore; and ostensibly inhabited by fishermen, who, however, rarely resorted to the deep, except when a long continuance of fineweather rendered their usual avocation less prosperous than usual. They consisted in all of about thirty families, wreckers, for the mostpart, from father to son, and even from mother to daughter--for womenjoined freely in the atrocious trade. Atrocious indeed! for murdernecessarily accompanied pillage, and it rarely happened that many ofthe crew and passengers of the unfortunate vessels escaped alive. Bodies were indeed found along the shore; but even if they exhibitedthe marks of blows, the sea and the rocks got the credit of the deed. 

The interior of the huts of the hamlet presented a motley appearance. Their denizens were usually clothed in all kinds of costume--from thepeculiar garments of Englishmen, to the turbans, shawls, andpetticoats of Lascars, Malays, and others. Cases of spirits, chests oftools, barrels of flour, piles of hams, cheeses, curious arms, spy-glasses, compasses, &c. Were thrust into coffers and corners;while all the villagers were in the habit of spending money thatcertainly was not coined in France. The state of the good people ofMontreaux was one of splendid misery; for, with all their ill-gottenwealth, their improvidence and carelessness was such, that they oftenwanted necessaries--so true is it that ill-got money is neverwell-spent money. A month of fine weather would almost reduce them tostarvation, forcing them to sell to disadvantage whatever they stillpossessed. 

This was not, however, the case with every one of them. A man dweltamong them, and had done so for many years, who seemed a little wiserand more careful than the rest of the community. His name was PierreSandeau. He was not a native of the place; but had long beenestablished among them, and had at once shewn himself a worthybrother. He was pitiless, selfish, and cold. Less fiery than hisfellows, he had an amount of caution, which made them feel his value;and a ready wit, which often helped them out of difficulties. Hisinfluence was soon felt, and he became a kind of chief. He was at lastrecognised as the head of the village, and the leader in all maraudingexpeditions. But the great source of his power was his foresight. Hehad always either money or provisions at hand, and was always ready tohelp one of his companions--for a consideration. In times of distress, he bought up all the stock on hand, and even sold on credit. In courseof time, he had become rich, had a better house than the rest, andcould, if he liked, have retired from business. But he seemed chainedto his trade, and never gave any sign of abandoning his disgracefuloccupation. 

One day, however, he left Montreaux, and stayed away nearly afortnight. When he came back, he was not alone: he was accompanied bya young and lovely girl--one of those energetic but sweet creatures, whose influence would be supreme with a good man. Madeleine Sandeauwas eighteen--tall, well-proportioned, and exceedingly handsome; shewas, moreover, educated. Her father had taken her from school, tobring her to his house, which, though so different from what she wasused to, she presided over at once with ease and nature. Great was thehorror of the young girl when she found out the character of thepeople around her. She remonstrated freely with her father as to thedreadful nature of his life; but the old man was cold and inexorable. 'He had brought her there to preside over his solitary house, ' hesaid, 'and not to lecture him:' and Madeleine was forced to be silent. 

She saw at once the utter futility of any attempt to civilise orhumanise the degraded beings she associated with; and so she took tothe children. With great difficulty, she formed a school, and made ither daily labour to instil not only words, but ideas and principles, into the minds of the young, unfledged wreckers. She gained thegoodwill of the elders, by nursing both young and old during theirhours of sickness, as well as by a slight knowledge of medicine, whichshe had picked up in a way she never explained, but which always madeher silent and sad when she thought of it. 

When a black and gloomy night came round, and the whole village was onfoot, then Madeleine locked herself in her room, knelt down, andremained in prayer. Now and then she would creep to the window, lookout, and interrogate the gloom. She never came forth to greet herfather on his return from these expeditions. Her heart revolted evenagainst seeing her parent under such circumstances, and towardsmorning she went to bed--rarely, however, to sleep. 

On one occasion, after a cold and bitter day, the evening came onsuddenly. Black clouds covered the horizon as with a funeral pall; thewind began to howl round the hamlet with fearful violence; andMadeleine shuddered, for she knew what was to be expected that night. Scarcely had the gale commenced, when Pierre rose, put on a thickpea-jacket and a sou'-wester, armed himself, and swallowing a glass ofbrandy, went out. He was the last to leave the village; all the resthad preceded him. He found them encamped in a narrow gorge, round ahuge fire, carefully concealed behind some rocks. It was a cold, windy, wet night; but the wreckers cared not, for the wind blew deadon shore, and gave rich promise of reward for whatever they mightendure. 

A man lay on the look-out at the mouth of the gorge under a tarpaulin. He had a night-glass in his hand, with which he swept the darkhorizon, for some time in vain. But the wind was too good to failthem, and the wreckers had patience. 

It was really a terrible night. It was pitchy dark: not a star, norone glimpse of the pale moon could be distinguished. The wind howledamong the rocks, and cast the spray up with violence against thecliffs, which, however, in front of the gorge, gave way to a low sandybeach, forming the usual scene of the wreckers' operations. A currentrushed into this narrow bight, and brought on shore numerous spars, boxes, and boats--all things welcome to these lawless men. 

'A prize!' cried the look-out suddenly. 'A tall Indiaman is not morethan a mile off shore. She is making desperate efforts to clear thepoint, but she won't do it. She is ours, lads!'

'Give me the glass!' exclaimed Pierre rising. The other gave him thetelescope. 'Faith, a splendid brig!' said the patriarch with asinister smile--'the finest windfall we have had for many a season. Jean, you must out with the cow, or perhaps it may escape us. '

The cow was an abominable invention which Pierre had taught hiscomrades. A cow was tied to a stake, and a huge ship's lanternfastened to its horns. This the animal tossed about in the hope ofdisengaging himself, and in so doing presented the appearance of aship riding at anchor--all that could be seen on such nights being themoving light. By this means had many a ship been lured to destruction, in the vain hope of finding a safe anchoring-ground. The cow, whichwas always ready, was brought out, and the trick resorted to, afterwhich the wreckers waited patiently for the result. 

The Indiaman was evidently coming on shore, and all the efforts of hergallant crew seemed powerless to save her. Her almost naked masts, andher dark hull, with a couple of lanterns, could now plainly bedistinguished as she rose and fell on the waters. Suddenly she seemedto become motionless, though quivering in every fibre, and then a hugewave washed clean over her decks. 

'She has struck on the Mistral Rock, ' said Pierre. 'Good! she will bein pieces in an hour, and every atom will come on shore!'

'They are putting out the boats, ' observed Jean. 

The wreckers clutched their weapons. If the crew landed in safety, their hopes were gone. But no crew had for many years landed in safetyon that part of the coast: by some mysterious fatality, they hadalways perished. 

Presently, three boats were observed pulling for the shore, and comingtowards the sandy beach at the mouth of the gorge. They were evidentlycrammed full of people, and pulling all for one point. The boatsapproached: they were within fifty yards of the shore, and pullingstill abreast. They had entered the narrow gut of water leading to thegorge, and were already out of reach of the huge waves, which a minutebefore threatened to submerge them. The wreckers extinguished thelantern on the cow's horn. There was no chance of the boats being ableto put back to sea. 

Suddenly a figure pushed through the crowd, and approached the firenear which Pierre Sandeau stood. It appeared to be one of thewreckers; but the voice, that almost whispered in the old man's ear, made him start. 

'Father!' said Madeleine, in a low solemn voice, 'what are you aboutto do?'

'Fool! what want you here?' replied Pierre, amazed and angry at thesame time. 

'I come to prevent murder! Father, think what you are about to do?Here are fifty fellow-creatures coming in search of life and shelter, and you will give them death!'

'This is no place for you, Madeleine!' cried the other in a huskyvoice. 'Go home, girl, and let me never see you out again at night!'

'Away, Madeleine!--away!' said the crowd angrily. 

'I will not away!--I will stay here to see you do your foul deed--tofix it on my mind, that day and night I may shout in your ears that yeare murderers! Father, ' added she solemnly, 'imbrue your hands in theblood of one man to-night, and I am no child of yours. I will beg, Iwill crawl through the world on my hands, but never more will I eatthe bread of crime!'

'Take her away, Pierre, ' said one more ruffianly than the rest, 'oryou may repent it. '

'Go, girl, go, ' whispered Pierre faintly, while the wreckers moved ina body to the shore, where the boats were about to strike. 

'Never!' shrieked Madeleine, clinging franticly to her father'sclothes. 

'Let me go!' cried Pierre, dragging her with him. 

At that moment a terrible event interrupted their struggle. A manstood upright in the foremost boat, guiding their progress. Just asthey were within two yards of the shore, this man saw the wreckerscoming down in a body. 

'As I expected!' he cried in a loud ringing voice. 'Fire!--shoot everyone of the villains!'

A volley of small arms, within pistol-shot of the body of wreckers, was the unexpected greeting which these men received. A loud andterrible yell shewed the way in which the discharge had told. One-halfof the pillagers fell on the stony beach, the other half fled. 

Among those who remained was Madeleine. She was kneeling by herfather, who had received several shots, and lay on the ground inagony. 

'You were right, girl, ' he groaned; 'I see it now, when it is toolate, and I feel I have deserved it. '

'Better, ' sobbed Madeleine, 'better be here, than have imbrued yourhands in the blood of one of those miraculously-delivered sailors. '

'Say you so, woman?' said a loud voice near her. 'Then you are not oneof the gang. I knew them of old, as well as their infernal cut-throatgorge, and pulled straight for it, but quite prepared to give them awarm reception. '

Madeleine looked up. She saw around her more than fifty men, threewomen, and some children. She shuddered again at the thought of theawful massacre which would have occurred but for the sailor'sprudence. 

'My good girl, ' continued the man, 'we are cold, wet, and hungry; canyou shew us to some shelter?'

'Yes; but do you bid some of your men carry my father, who, I fear, isdying. '

'It is no more than he merits, ' replied the man; 'but for your sake Iwill have him taken care of. '

'It is what I merit, ' said Pierre, in a strange and loud tone; 'butnot from your hands, Jacques. '

'Merciful God!' cried the sailor, 'whose voice is that?'

'You will soon know; but do as your sister bids you, and then we cantalk more at ease. '

Madeleine cast herself sobbing into her brother's arms, who, gentlydisengaging her, had a litter prepared for his father, and then, guided by Madeleine, the procession advanced on its way. An armedparty marched at the head, and in a quarter of an hour the village ofMontreaux was reached. It was entirely deserted. There were fires inthe houses, and lamps lit, and even suppers prepared, but not a livingthing. Even the children and old women on hearing the discharge ofmusketry, had fled to a cave where they sometimes took shelter whenthe coast-guard was sent in search of them. 

The delighted sailors and passengers spread themselves through thevillage, took possession of the houses, ate the suppers, and slept inthe beds, taking care, however, to place four sentries inwell-concealed positions, for fear of a surprise. Madeleine, herfather, her brother, the ship's surgeon, and a young lady passenger, came to the house of old Sandeau, who was put to bed, and his woundsdressed. He said nothing, but went to sleep, or feigned to do so. 

Supper was then put upon the table, and the four persons abovementioned sat down, for a few minutes in silence. Jacques, the captainof the East-Indiaman, looked moody and thoughtful. He said not a word. Suddenly, however, he was roused by hearing the young surgeon of the_Jeune Sophie_ speak. 

'Madeleine, ' said he, in a gentle but still much agitated tone ofvoice, 'how is it I find you here--you whom I left at St Omer?'

'Is this, then, the Madeleine you so often speak of?' cried theastonished sailor. 

'It is. But speak, my dear friend. '

'Edouard, I am here because yonder is my father, and it is my duty tobe where he is. '

'But why is your father here?' continued the other. 

'I am here, ' said the old man, fiercely turning round, 'because I amat war with the world. For a trifling error, I was dismissed thecommand of this very _Jeune Sophie_ twelve years ago. I vowed revenge, and you see the kind of revenge I have selected. '

'Dear father, ' said Madeleine gently, 'see what an escape you havehad!'

'Besides, ' interposed Jacques, 'there was no occasion for revenge. M. Ponceau, who had adopted me, searched for you far and wide, to giveyou another ship. They dismissed you in a moment of anger. They provedthis, by giving me the command of the _Jeune Sophie_ as soon as Icould be trusted with it. '

'What is done is done, ' said Pierre, 'and I am a wrecker! I have donewrong, but I am punished. Jacques, my boy, take away Madeleine; I seethis life is not fit for her. If I recover, I shall remain, and becomethe trader of the village'----

'No, father, you must come with us, ' observed Jacques sadly. 'You andI and Madeleine will find some quiet spot, where none will know of thepast, and where we ourselves may learn to forget. I have already savedenough to support us. '

'And your wife, sir?' said the young lady, who had not hithertospoken. 

'Leonie, you can never marry me now. You are no fit mate for the sonof a wrecker. '

'Jacques, ' interposed the young surgeon, 'neither you nor Madeleinehas any right to suffer for the errors of your father. I made theacquaintance of your sister at my aunt's school in St Omer. I lovedher; and before I started on this journey, I had from her ahalf-promise, which I now call upon her to fulfil. '

'What say you, Madeleine?' said Jacques gravely. 

'That I can never give my hand to a man whom I love too well todishonour. '

'Madeleine, you are right, and you are a noble girl!' replied herbrother. 

'Children, ' said the old man, with a groan, 'I see my crime now in itsfull hideousness; but I can at least repair part of the evil done. Now, listen to me. Let me see you follow the bent of your hearts, andbe happy, and I will go where you will, for you will have forgivenyour father. Refuse to do so, and I remain here--once a wrecker, always a wrecker. Come, decide!'

Madeleine held out her hand to Edouard, and Jacques to Leonie, hisfriend's sister, returning from the colony where her parents had died. The old man shut his eyes, and remained silent the rest of theevening. 

Next day, conveyances were obtained from a neighbouring town, and thecrew and passengers departed. The reunited friends remained atMontreaux, awaiting the recovery of Pierre, Jacques excepted, he beingforced to go to Havre, to explain events to his owners. In ten days hereturned. Old Sandeau was now able to be removed; and the whole partyleft Montreaux, which was then stripped by its owners, and deserted. 

The family went to Havre. The father's savings as a captain had beenconsiderable. United with those of Jacques, they proved sufficient totake a house, furnish it, and start both young couples in life. Edouard set up as a surgeon in Havre, his brother-in-law was admittedas junior partner into the house of Ponceau, and from that day allprospered with them. Old Sandeau did not live long. He was crushedunder the weight of his terrible past; and his deathbed was full ofhorror and remorse. [1]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This legend is still told by the peasants of Brittany, who pointout the site of Montreaux. 

LOWELL MECHANICS' FAIR. 

There are very few places in the world that bear the mark of progressso strongly as this town, destined, beyond all doubt, to be theManchester of the United States, and to enter--indeed it is nowentering--into active rivalry with the Old Country in her staplemanufactures, cottons and woollens. In the year 1821, few visited thesmall, quiet village, of about 200 inhabitants, situated in amountain-nook at a bend of the Merrimac, at a point where that streamfell in a natural cascade, tumbling and gushing over its rocky, shallow bed, quite unconscious of the part it was to play in theworld's affairs. This village was twenty-five miles north-west ofBoston, not on a high-road leading anywhere; but, nevertheless, itbegan to move on, as usual, by the erection of a saw-mill, as at thatpoint it was found convenient to arrest the downward progress of thetimber, and convert it into plank. And so it went on, and on, step bystep, till it became the splendid town it is, so large as to have tworailway depôts: one in the suburbs, and the principal one in thecentre of the town--for the Yankees think the closer their railwaysare to the town the better. 

Lowell now covers five square miles, with handsome, straight streets;the principal one, Merrimac Street, being a mile and a half in length, and about sixty feet wide, with footways twelve feet wide, and rows oftrees between them and the road. The appearance of this street remindsthe spectator of the best in France. The loom-power of a manufacturingplace, I understand, is estimated by the number of spindles, and thisworks 350, 000; the mills employ 14, 000 males, and 10, 000 females; thenumber of inhabitants reckoned stationary, 12, 000. It has lately beenraised to the dignity of a city by a charter of incorporation, which, in the state of Massachusetts, can be claimed by any town when thenumber of its inhabitants amounts to 10, 000: thus it appoints itsofficers, and manages its own affairs, as a body corporate andmunicipal. 

The most striking feature of the social system here, is the conditionof the mill-workers, of which, as it is so different from ours, Ishall give you some particulars. The corporation of Lowell has builtstreets of convenient houses, for the accommodation of the workmen;and nine-tenths of these are occupied by the unmarried. These housesare farmed by the corporation to elderly females, whose charactersmust bear the strictest investigation, and at a rent just paying a lowrate of interest for the outlay. They carry on the business understrict rules, which limit the numbers, and determine the accommodationof the inmates, two of whom sleep in one room. Females, whose wagesare 12s. Per week, pay 6s. 6d. Per week for board and lodging; formales, the wages and cost of board are about 15 per cent. Higher. These females are housed, fed, and dressed as well as the wives anddaughters of any tradesman in Edinburgh or London. The hours of workat the mills leave them leisure; which some spend in fancyneedle-work, so as to increase their income; and all, by arrangementsamong themselves, have access to good libraries. The amusements areballs, reading-rooms, lectures, and concerts; indeed, all the means ofintellectual cultivation are placed within their reach, and fulladvantage is taken of them. There is an ambition to save money, whichthey nearly all do; those in superior situations, such as overlookers, have considerable sums in the savings-banks established by thecompanies owning the mills; the workers in each mill thus puttingtheir weekly savings into the concern, from which they receiveinterest in money, and so having an interest in the well-doing of themill itself, and a bond of attachment to its proprietors. In thismanner, the capital of all is constantly at work, and provision ismade for a possible slackness, which, however, has not yet befallenLowell. 

To this place, it is no longer a toilsome journey from Boston. Three-quarters of an hour, in a very commodious railway-carriage, brought me into the centre of the town, when a most interesting sightpresented itself. The railway had been pouring in for the occasionupwards of 20, 000 persons; and in the streets, all was bustle andharmony; thousands of well-dressed persons--some of the femaleselegantly so--moving in throngs here and there, all bearing the tokensof comfort and respectability. The occasion of the gathering is calledthe Mechanics' Fair, held for a fortnight, during some days of whichall mill-work is suspended; the attraction consisting of ahorticultural and cattle show, and an exhibition of the products ofart and manufactures of the county, which is Middlesex. 

The horticultural show was in the Town-hall, a large, handsomeapartment, with long aisles of tables, covered with piles of fruitsand vegetables; and such fruits! peaches, nectarines, apricots, andthe choicest plums, all of open-air growth, and not surpassed by any Ihave seen--fully equal to the best hot-house productions of England. Vegetables also very fine, all equal to the finest, except the turnip, which in New England is small. The flowers as beautiful as in the OldCountry, but much smaller; consequently, that part of the show wasmuch inferior to our shows of the kind. In the evening of each day, the fruits are put up to auction, and a good deal of merriment iscaused by this part of the entertainment. Those who supply the showare well paid, as each morning there is a fresh supply; thus provingthat it is not the selected few that are exhibited, but the averageproduce of the county. 

From thence I walked to the show of products of industry. I found abuilding 600 feet in length, 40 feet wide, and two storeys high, crammed with such a variety of articles that it is extremely difficultto describe them, or, indeed, to reduce them to order in the mind. Ido not propose to send you a catalogue, but to convey, as far as Ican, the impression made upon me. The ground-floor is devoted to theexhibition of agricultural implements and machinery. I have nointention to enter into the question of our own patent laws, but Icannot refuse to acknowledge the superiority of the arrangements here. The greatest advantage is, that the right to an invention is sosimply, cheaply, and easily secured, that there is no filching orill-feeling. Talking with a very intelligent person, who was kindlytrying to give me definite ideas in this labyrinth of cranks andwheels, by shewing and explaining to me the movements of a mostsingular machine for making carding implements--I said: 'How is it, that with these wonders, the American portion of the Crystal Palace inLondon should have been so scant? Here is enough for almost anindefinite supply: the reaping-machine is but a unit. ' 'True, ' hereplied, 'but we could get no guarantee for securing the patents; andif one man was simple enough to give the English his reaping-machine, it did not suit others to be robbed. We have little ambition about thematter: satisfied with what we have, we cannot afford to give awayinventions for the sake of fine words. ' This explained the whole tome. 

The first store I looked over in this country was one in Boston, having an immense stock of agricultural implements, and tools forevery mechanical purpose. I should know something of such matters, having whistled at the plough myself, and used most of the implements;and being therefore curious on the point, I looked in for the sake ofold associations. I am positive that every article for agriculturaland mechanical use is better made than with us, and more adapted toits purpose--tools especially. What has been said of the plough inLondon, is equally true of all other implements in use in America, from the most complicated to the most simple. The Englishman uses whathis fathers used; the American will have the tool best adapted, whether existing before his time or not. In favour of this superiorityin tools is the fine quality of the hard-woods used here. At the FairI saw some coach and chaise wheels, of the most beautiful make, ofhickory, which is as durable as metal-spokes, not thicker than themiddle finger, but strong enough for any required weight, and withgreat flexibility; and from its extreme toughness, calculated for thewoodwork of implements. The apartment on the ground-floor was entirelyoccupied by machines in motion, and each was attended by a person whoexplained, with the greatest civility and intelligence, the uses ofthe various parts of the machine, setting it going, or stopping it, asnecessary: each had its crowd of listeners; and I could not but admirethe patience and politeness of the lecturer, as he endeavoured toexplain the wondrous capabilities of his own pet machine. It wouldrequire a volume to follow the subject thoroughly; but I will mentionwhat appeared to be the newest inventions, or those not known inEngland. 

A crowd of ladies were watching with great attention theSewing-machine--sewing away with the greatest exactness, and muchstronger than by the ordinary mode with a needle, as each stitch is aknot. The inventor was shewing it; and he said he had nearly completeda machine for the button-holes. The next was a machine called 'TheMan'--and truly named, for a more marvellous production can scarcelybe conceived--for making implements for carding wool or cotton, thearticle passing in as raw wire, going through before our eyes fourprocesses of the most delicate description, and finally coming out aperfect card, with its wire-teeth exactly set, and ready for use. Myattention was drawn to the application of the Jacquard principle to aloom engaged in weaving a calico fabric, of various colours woven witha pattern, and thus producing an elegant article, thick, and welladapted for bed-furniture. But the most curious and simple, andwithal, perhaps, the most important invention for facilitatingmanufactures, is what is called the 'Turpin Wheel, ' taking its namefrom the inventor. How simple may be the birth of a great idea! We allobserve that a log under a waterfall, coming down perpendicularly uponit, spins round, as on an axis, till it escapes. This led to theinvention in question. The water falls upon the spokes of a horizontalwheel, which it sends round with great velocity; and by thiscontrivance the force of the water is more than doubled. I must notomit to mention the machine just invented for weaving the fabric wecall Brussels carpeting. This machine will weave twenty yards ofcarpeting per day, with one female to attend it. The carpet is worth3s. Per yard, while the wages paid for human aid in its production is1-1/4d. Per yard: machinery can go little further. Let me add, that Iwas informed that everything on this floor was the invention ofworking-men. 

Upon ascending to the first floor, I found the apartment arranged withstands--each stand devoted to one sort of manufacture--and attended, as below, by an intelligent person, to shew and explain. Here wasevery description of furniture, cotton, and woollen fabric; butneither velvets nor silks, which have not, as yet, been introduced. Weknow so much of our doings in England in the woollen and cotton line, that my attention was principally attracted to these specimens. Herewas everything except the broad-cloths--all the patterns ofplaid-shawls, so beautifully imitated and executed, that they would, Iam sure, pass in Edinburgh. I saw the kerseymere fabric that obtainedthe prize in London, and nothing could be more beautiful; for thecalicoes, I believe we cannot produce them cheaper or better. A writerin a journal here, observes: 'Why should our cotton go to England tobe spun when we can spin it in Massachusetts?' A very pertinentquestion, well worth thinking of at home. We should be thankful to theprojectors of the Crystal Palace, that it has opened our eyes, fornothing else could. There is no manner of doubt, that we can learnsomething beyond yacht-sailing; but we shall not open our eyes to thewidest until the arrival in our market of the first cargo ofmanufactured woollens and cottons; and as surely as we have barrels offlour and pork, we shall soon find them with us: I saw first-ratecalico, which could be sold at 2d. Per yard. 

The exports of manufactured goods from this country to all parts ofthe world is increasing weekly; but of all that another time, for I amcarefully collecting information. One stand I would not omit, as itfurnished evidence of the condition of the operatives. The exhibitionis managed by the mechanics themselves, and the profits are devoted tothe support of a mechanics' institute, with the usual advantages oflibrary, balls, and concerts, but of a very superior order; whileevery female who provides any article of her own production forexhibition and sale, has a free ticket admitting to all the advantagesof the institution. This is found a useful stimulus, as the stand forthose articles testified, consisting as they did of all descriptionsof fancy-work: rugs, chair-bottoms, table-covers, tapestry, &c. Produced in overhours, tasteful in design, and beautiful in execution. Let me not forget an invention, which is as great a boon to sufferersas the water-bed: it is a contrivance applied to an ordinary bedstead, which, by turning a handle, will support any part of the body, orplace the body in any required position. It was the invention of amechanic, who was nine months in bed in consequence of an accident, and felt the want of something of the kind. It is adapted to abedstead at a cost of L. 3. 

From thence I went to the cattle-show. I could see but little of that, as most of the animals were gone; but I was assured it was very fine. I believe it, if what I saw was a specimen--a pair of working oxen, perfectly white, the pair weighing 7000 pounds. In our cattle-shows athome, we find plenty of bulk, but it destroys form and symmetry: hereboth were preserved. The fowls are of the long-legged Spanish breed, coming to table like trussed ostriches; the plump English barndoorsort are about being introduced. I had nearly forgotten a beautifuland extraordinary invention--a rifle, not heavier than the common one, that will discharge twenty-four balls in succession without reloading. Where the ramrod is usually placed, is a smaller barrel, containing, when filled, twenty-four ball-cartridges, and, after discharging, theaction of recocking introduces another cartridge, and so on, until thewhole are discharged; the whole twenty-four can be discharged in asmany seconds!

After leaving this interesting exhibition, where I could have lingereda whole day, I was joined by a friend, an American--a gentleman ofgreat attainments in science--to whose remarks I am indebted for thefollowing scraps. The Merrimac, when low--as when I saw it--is atrifling stream, having a bottom of laminated rock, worn in channelsby the stream. At spring and fall, there is ten or fifteen feet ofdepth; and to remedy this inequality, an important work was undertakenand executed: to this we bent our way. It is a canal in form, butshould more properly be called a reservoir. It is 1-1/4 miles long, 100feet wide, and 15 feet deep; of solid granite, sides and bottom--equalin durability to any work, ancient or modern. It is about half way cutthrough the solid granite rock, which in that part furnishes a naturalwall. My friend had watched its progress, and gave me many interestingdetails of the engineering processes employed: among others, thetremendous application of steam and gunpowder. An engine bored holesin the rock fifteen feet deep and twelve inches in diameter; and thesewere so placed, and in such numbers, that at a single blast 170 tonsof granite were blown into the air--an operation hardly conceivable. This canal leaves the town in a westerly direction--being, at itsoutset, about a quarter of a mile from the Merrimac, but graduallyapproximating for a quarter of a mile, until it touches and uniteswith that river. Between the two, is one of the prettiest of publicwalks, ten feet wide, having rows of trees on each side, andterminating in a point; being the end of a splendid granite wall, atits base thirty feet thick, and tapering to half the thickness, dividing the natural from the artificial stream. Here we come to apoint of great interest: on the right is an artificial dam across theriver, with two sharp lines at an angle of sixty-seven degrees, thepoint meeting the stream, thus stopping the waters, and insuring asupply for the reservoir, while it forms a cascade of about twentyfeet. 

My friend gave me a very graphic description of the opening of theworks. The whole was built in a cofferdam, quite dry, and the openingwas a holiday. Every spot within sight was covered with spectators, for whom the engineer had contrived a surprise. The works used inkeeping the water out of the reservoir, and protecting the new dam, were undermined, and charged with gunpowder. At a given signal, thetrain was fired, and in an instant the whole blew up; and when thesmoke cleared away, the fragments were floating down the Merrimac, andthe canal full of water. 

On the left from the point, the egress of water is regulated byflood-gates of a superior construction. The building crosses thecanal, and contains seven huge gates, which are raised or dropped intotheir places by beautiful machinery. To each gate is attached animmense screw, which stands perpendicularly, twenty feet long and teninches in diameter. At its upper end, it passes through a matrix-wormin the centre of a large cog-wheel, lying horizontally The whole isset in motion by the slightest turning of a handle; and here I saw theapplication of the Turpin Wheel I spoke of before--no engine orcomplication, but a wheel fifteen feet in diameter, fixedhorizontally, submerged in the stream, receiving the falling waters, and thus rapidly revolving, and by a gear, giving motion to themachinery for raising or lowering the immense gates, stopped or setgoing by merely turning a stop-cock, and requiring no more force thanan ordinary water-cistern. 

I cannot leave this interesting spot without an attempt to describethe beautiful scene. A little to the right, the river widens into asort of bay, with several fine islands covered with wood; in front, across the stream, as far as the eye can reach, are the forests of NewHampshire, with occasional headlands of greensward. In the autumn, ithas exactly the appearance of a gigantic flower-garden--the treesbeing of every imaginable colour. 'Ah!' said my friend, 'this is aninteresting spot: it was the favourite residence and hunting-ground ofthe Chippewas. The Indians, like your monks of old in Europe, alwayschose the most beautiful and picturesque sites for their dwellings;but they have retired before the advance of a civilisation they couldnot share or appreciate. ' Talking in this way, as we returned, hecalled my attention to a singular phenomenon in the river. At someremote period there was, and it remains to the present moment, a rockstanding in the middle of the stream, about twelve feet in diameter atthe top, of an irregular form, and of the hardest granite. By theaction of the water, a mass of granite had been thrown on the top, where it lodged. At high-water, perhaps during three months in eachyear, the stream had caused this mass to revolve on its own axis, until it has worn itself of a round figure, and worn also the rockinto a cup, now about six feet deep. Still, it revolves when the waterreaches it--nature still plays at this cup-and-ball--the ball weighingfive tons. Talk of this sort brought us to the railway. In due time Ireached home; and I do not remember to have ever been more interestedthan by the day spent at Lowell. 

THE SEA AND THE POETS. 

Of three poets, each the most original in his language, and eachpeculiarly susceptible of impressions from external nature--Horace, Shakspeare, and Burns--not one seems to have appreciated the beauty, the majestic sublimity, the placid loveliness, alternating with theterrific grandeur, of the 'many-sounding sea. ' Judging from theirincidental allusions to it, and the use they make of it in metaphorand imagery, it would seem to have presented itself to theirimaginations only as a fierce, unruly, untamable, and unsightlymonster, to be loathed and avoided--a blot on the fair face ofcreation--a necessary evil, perhaps; but still an evil, and mostcertainly suggestive of no ideas poetic in their character. 

It is marvellous, for there is not one of these poets who does notdiscover a lively sense of the varied charms of universal nature, andhas not painted them in glowing colours with the pencil of a master. Who has not noted with what evident love, with what anicely-discriminative knowledge Shakspeare has pictured our Englishflowers, our woodland glades, the forest scenery of Old England, before the desolating axe had prostrated the pride of English woods?How vividly has not Burns translated into vigorous verse each featureof his native landscape, till

 ---- 'Auld Coila's plains and fells, Her muirs, red-brown wi' heather-bells, Her banks and braes, her dens and dells, '

live again in the magic of his song. And Horace--with what charmingplayfulness, with what exquisite grace, has he not figured theolive-groves of Tibur, the pendent vines ruddy with the lusciousgrape, the silver streams, the sparkling fountains and purple skies offruitful Campania! Looking on nature with a poet's eye, as did thesepoets, one and all of them, is it not a psychological mystery thatnone of them should have detected the ineffable beauty of asea-prospect?

First, as to Horace. When climbing the heights of Mount Vultur, thatLucanian hill where once, when overcome by fatigue, the youthful poetlay sleeping, and doves covered his childish and wearied limbs withleaves--Horace must have often viewed, with their wide expanseglittering in the sun, the waters of the Adriatic--often must he havehailed the grateful freshness of the sea-breeze and the invigoratingperfumes of

 ---- 'the early sea-smell blown Through vineyards from some inland bay. '

Yet about this sea, which should have kindled his imagination andinspired his genius, this thankless bard poetises in a vein such as aLondon citizen, some half-century back, might have indulged in after along, tedious, 'squally' voyage in an overladen Margate hoy. 

No such spirit possessed him as that which dictated poor Campbell'snoble apostrophe to the glorious 'world of waters:'

 ---- 'Earth has not a plain So boundless or so beautiful as thine; The eagle's vision cannot take it in; The lightning's glance, too weak to sweep its space, Sinks half-way o'er it, like a wearied bird: It is the mirror of the stars, where all Their hosts within the concave firmament, Gay marching to the music of the spheres, Can see themselves at once. '

Horace, indeed, has sung the praises of Tarentum--that beautifulmaritime city of the Calabrian Gulf, whose attractions were such as tomake _the delights of Tarentum_ a common proverbial expression. Butwhat were these delights as celebrated by our poet?--the perfection ofits honey, the excellence of its olives, the abundance of its grapes, its lengthened spring and temperate winter. For these, its merits, didHorace prefer, as he tells us, Tarentum to every other spot on thewide earth--his beloved Tibur only and ever excepted. In truth, Horacevalued and visited the sea-side only in winter, and then simplybecause its climate was milder than that to be met with inland, andtherefore more agreeable to the dilapidated constitution of asensitive valetudinarian. His commentators suppose he produced nothingduring his marine hybernations: if the inclement season froze 'thegenial current of his soul, ' the aspect of the sea did not thaw it. 

His motive for his sea-side trips is amusingly set forth in one of themost lively and characteristic of his Epistles--the fifteenth of thefirst book. In this he inquires of a friend what sort of winterweather is to be found at Velia and Salernum; two cities, one on theAdriatic, the other on the Mediterranean seaboard of Italy--whatmanner of roads they had--whether the people there drank tank-water orspring-water--and whether hares, boars, crabs, and fish were with themabundant. He adds, he is not apprehensive about their wines--knowingthese, as we may infer, to be good--although usually, when from home, he is scrupulous about his liquors; whilst, when at home, he can putup almost with anything in the way of potations. It is quite plainHorace went down to the sea just in the spirit in which a turtle-fedalderman would transfer himself to Cheltenham; or in which a finelady, whose nerves the crush, hurry, and late hours of a London seasonhad somewhat disturbed, would exchange the dissipations of Mayfair forthe breezy hills of Malvern, or the nauseous waters of TunbridgeWells. 

This certainly explains, and perhaps excuses, the grossly uncivilterms in which alone he notices the sea. One of the worst of Ulysses'troubles was, according to him, the numerous and lengthy sea-voyageswhich that Ithacan gadabout had to take. Horace wishes for Mævius, whowas his aversion, no worse luck than a rough passage and shipwreck atthe end of it. His notion of a happy man--_ille beatus_--is one whohas not to dread the sea. Augustus, whose success had blessed not onlyhis own country, but the whole world, had--not the least of hisblessings--given to the seamen a calmed sea--_pacatum mare_. Lamentingat Virgil's departure for Athens, he rebukes the impiety of the firstmariner who ventured, in the audacity of his heart, to go afloat andcross the briny barrier interposed between nations. He esteems amerchant favoured specially by the gods, should he twice or thrice ayear return in safety from an Atlantic cruise. He tells us he himselfhad known the terrors of 'the dark gulf of the Adriatic, ' and hadexperienced 'the treachery of the western gale;' and expresses acharitable wish, that the enemies of the Roman state were exposed tothe delights of both. He likens human misery to a sea 'roughened bygloomy winds;' 'to embark once more on the mighty sea, ' is hisfigurative expression for once more engaging in the toils and troublesof the world; Rome, agitated by the dangers of civil conflict, resembles an ill-formed vessel labouring tempest-tossed in the waves;his implacable Myrtale resembles the angry Adriatic, in which also hefinds a likeness to an ill-tempered lover. All through, from first tolast, the gentle Horace pelts with most ungentle phrases one of thenoblest objects in nature, provocative alike of our admiration and ourawe, our terror and our love. 

And even Shakspeare must be ranged in the same category. The mostEnglish of poets has not one laudatory phrase for

 ---- 'The seas Which God hath given for fence impregnable'

to the poet's England. It is idle to say that Shakspeare wasinland-bred--that he knew nothing, and could therefore have carednothing about the matter--seeing that, insensible as he might havebeen to its beauties, he makes constant reference to the sea, and evenin language implying that his familiarity with it was not inferior tothat of any yachtsman who has ever sailed out of Cowes Harbour. Heuses nautical terms frequently and appropriately. Romeo's rope-ladderis 'the high top-gallant of his joy;' King John, dying of poison, declares 'the tackle of his heart is cracked, ' and 'all the shroudswherewith his life should sail' wasted 'to a thread. ' Polonius tellsLaertes, 'the wind sits in the shoulder of your sail'--a technicalexpression, the singular propriety of which a naval critic hasrecently established; whilst some of the commentators on the passagein _King Lear_, descriptive of the prospect from Dover Cliffs, affirmthat the comparison as to apparent size, of the ship to her cock-boat, and the cock-boat to a buoy, discover a perfect knowledge of therelative proportions of the objects named. In _Hamlet_, _Othello_, _The Tempest_, _The Merchant of Venice_, _The Comedy of Errors_, _Twelfth Night_, _Winter's Tale_, _Measure for Measure_, and_Pericles_, sea-storms are made accessory to the development of theplot, and sometimes described with a force and truthfulness whichforbid the belief that the writer had never witnessed such scenes:however, like Horace, it is in the darkest colours that Shakspeareuniformly paints 'the multitudinous seas. '

In the _Winter's Tale_, we read of--

 ---- 'the fearful usage (Albeit ungentle) of the dreadful Neptune. '

In _Henry V. _, of 'the furrowed sea, ' 'the lofty surge, ' 'theinconstant billows dancing;' in _Henry VI. _, Queen Margaret finds inthe roughness of the English waters a presage of her approaching wo;in _Richard III. _, Clarence's dream figures to us all the horrors of'the vasty deep;' in _Henry VIII. _, Wolsey indeed speaks of 'a sea ofglory, ' but also of his shipwreck thereon; in _The Tempest_ we read of'the never surfeited sea, ' and of the 'sea-marge sterile androcky-hard;' in the _Midsummer's Night Dream_, 'the sea' is 'rude, 'and from it the winds 'suck up contagious fogs;' _Hamlet_ is as 'madas the sea and wind;' the violence of Laertes and the insurgent Danesis paralleled to an irruption of the sea, 'overpeering of his list;'in the well-known soliloquy is the expression, 'a sea of troubles, 'which, in spite of Pope's suggested and tasteless emendation, commentators have shewn to have been used proverbially by the Greeks, and more than once by Æschylus and Menander. Still, Shakspeare, againlike Horace, was not insensible to the merits of sea-air in a sanitarypoint of view. Dionyza, meditating Marina's murder, bids her take whatthe Brighton doctor's call 'a constitutional' by the sea-side, addingthat--

 ---- 'the air is quick there, Piercing and sharpens well the stomach. '

As to Burns, his most fervent admirer can scarcely complain when weinvolve him in the censure to which we have already subjected Horaceand Shakspeare. He, too, writes about the sea in such a fashion, thatwe should hardly have suspected, what is true, that he was born almostwithin hearing of its waves; that much of his life was passed on itsshores or near them, and that at a time of life when external objectsmost vividly impress themselves on the senses, and exercise thelargest influence on the taste. 

The genius of 'Old Coila, ' in sketching the poet's early life, says--

 'I saw thee seek the sounding shore, Delighted with the dashing roar;'

but few tokens of this 'delight' are to be observed in his poetry. Hehas, indeed, his allusions to 'tumbling billows' and 'surging foam;'to southern climes where 'wild-meeting oceans boil;' to 'life's roughocean' and 'life's stormy main;' to 'hard-blowing gales;' to the'raging sea, ' 'raging billows, ' 'boundless oceans roaring wide, ' andthe like; but these are the stock-metaphors of every poet, and wouldbe familiar to him even had he never overpassed the frontiers ofBohemia. 

One sea-picture, and one alone, is to be found in Burns, and this, itis freely admitted, is exquisite:

 'Behold the hour, the boat arrive; Thou goest, thou darling of my heart! Severed from thee, can I survive? But fate has willed, and we must part. I'll often greet this surging swell, Yon distant isle will often hail: E'en here I took the last farewell; There latest marked her vanished sail. 

 Along the solitary shore, While flitting sea-fowl round me cry, Across the rolling, dashing roar, I'll westward turn my wistful eye: Happy thou Indian grove, I'll say, Where now my Nancy's path may be! While through thy sweets she loves to stray, Oh! tell me, does she muse on me?'

This charming lyric, the pathetic tenderness of which commends it toevery feeling heart, is all that Burns has left in evidence that thesea had to him, at least, one poetic aspect. 

CURIOSITIES OF CHESS. 

More has perhaps been written about chess-playing than any other ofthe games which human ingenuity has invented for recreative purposes, and it is not easy to foresee the time when dissertation or discoveryon the subject shall be brought to a satisfactory conclusion. Scarcelya year passes that does not add something to our knowledge of thehistory of the royal game; and among the latest additions, the ablepaper by Mr Bland, published in the _Journal of the Royal AsiaticSociety_, is not the least deserving of notice. It contains manycurious particulars and remarks, interspersed in its dry and technicalnarrative, sufficient to form a page or two of pleasant reading forthose--and they are not few--to whom chess is interesting. 

We must premise that Mr Bland takes three but little-known Orientalmanuscripts as the groundwork of his observations; one of them, in thePersian character, is said to be 'probably unique, ' though, unfortunately, very imperfect. It bears no date or author's name, these being lost with the missing portions, but the treatise itselfcontains internal evidence of very high antiquity. The author, whoeverhe was, tells us that he had travelled much through Persia and theadjacent countries, from the age of fifteen until the middle period oflife, during which he gained the knowledge and experience whichenabled him to write his book. Besides which, he measured his strengthwith many masters of the art of chess-playing, adding on each occasionto his reputation as a conqueror: 'and whereas, ' as he relates, 'thegreater number of professors were deficient in the art of playingwithout looking at the board, I myself played so against fouradversaries at once, and at the same time against another opponent inthe usual manner, and, by divine favour, won all the games. ' Here, singularly enough, we find a Persian Staunton making himself famousperhaps long before Norman William thought of invading Britain--sotrue it is, that in mere intellectual achievements we have scarcelysurpassed bygone generations. He, the Persian, evidently entertained acomfortable idea of his own abilities; for he boasts largely of theimprovements and new moves or positions which he has introduced intothe game. He disputes, too, the authenticity of the belief, that chesswas originally invented in India, and that it was first introducedinto Persia in the sixth century of our era by a physician, whomNushirwan had sent to seek for the work known as Pilpay's Fables. Onthe contrary, he contends that chess, in its original and mostdeveloped form, is purely a Persian invention, and that the moderngame is but an abridgment of the ancient one. In how far thisstatement is borne out by the fact, we have at present no means ofknowing; and until some more complete manuscript or other work shallbe brought to light which may supply the want, we must rest contentwith the account familiar to most readers--that chess was invented byan Indian physician for the diversion of the monarch, his master, andthe reward claimed in grains of corn, beginning with one grain on thefirst square of the board, and doubling the number in regularlyincreasing progression up to the last. 

We may here briefly state what the ancient, or, as it is commonlycalled in the East, 'Timour's Game, ' was. It required a board with 110squares and 56 men--almost as many again as are used in modernchess--and the moves were extremely complicated and difficult tolearn. The rectangularity of the board was interrupted by four lateralsquares, which served as a fort, or special point of defence for theking, whose powers, as well as those of the other pieces, were in manyrespects different from those at present known. 'Timour's mind, ' weare told, 'was too exalted to play at the Little Chess, and thereforehe played only at the Great Chess, on a board of ten squares byeleven, with the addition of two camels, two zarafahs, ' and otherpieces, with Persian designations. 

Next we come to a complete chapter, entitled the 'Ten Advantages ofChess, ' in which the views and reasonings are eminently Oriental andcharacteristic. The first explains that food and exercise are good forthe mind as well as for the body, and that chess is a most excellentmeans for quickening the intellect, and enabling it to gain knowledge. 'For the glory of man is knowledge, and chess is the nourishment ofthe mind, the solace of the spirit, the polisher of intelligence, thebright sun of understanding, and has been preferred by thephilosopher, its inventor, to all other means by which we arrive atwisdom. ' The second advantage is in the promotion and cultivation ofreligion; predestination and free-will are both exemplified--theplayer being able to move where he will, yet always in obedience tocertain laws. 'Whereas, ' says the writer, 'Nerd--that is, Easternbackgammon--on the contrary, is mere free-will, while in dice, again, all is compulsion. ' The third and fourth advantages relate togovernment and war; and the fifth to astronomy, illustrating itsseveral phenomena as shewn by the text, according to which 'the boardrepresents the heavens, in which the squares are the celestial houses, and the pieces, stars. The superior pieces are likened to the movingstars; and the pawns, which have only one movement, to the fixedstars. The king is as the sun, and the wazir in place of the moon, andthe elephants and taliah in the place of Saturn, and the rukhs anddabbabah in that of Mars, and the horses and camel in that of Jupiter, and the ferzin and zarafah in that of Venus; and all these pieces havetheir accidents, corresponding with the trines and quadrates, andconjunction and opposition, and ascendancy and decline--such as theheavenly bodies have; and the eclipse of the sun is figured by shahcaim or stale mate;' and much more to the same purport. We questionwhether the astronomer-royal ever suspected he was illustrating hisown science when engaged in one of his quiet games of chess with themaster of trinity. 

The sixth advantage is somewhat astrological in character: as thereare four principal movements of chess, these answer to the fourphysical temperaments, Cold, Warm, Dry, and Wet, which are ruled bytheir respective planets; and thus each piece on the board is made tohave its peculiar significance in relation with the stars. It isfurther shewn, that chess-playing is remedial against many of thelesser bodily ailments; 'and no illness is more grievous than hungerand thirst, yet both of these, when the mind is engaged in chess, areno longer thought of. ' Next in order, the seventh advantage, is 'inobtaining repose for the soul;' as the author observes: 'The soul hathillnesses like as the body hath, and the cure of these last is known;but of the soul's illness there be also many kinds, and of these Iwill mention a few. ' These are ignorance, disobedience, haste, cunning, avarice, tyranny, lying, pride, deceit, and envy. Deceit issaid to be of two kinds: that which deceives others, and that whichdeceives ourselves. But of all evils, ignorance is the greatest; 'forit is the soul's death, as learning is its life; and for this diseaseis chess an especial cure, since there is no way by which men arrivemore speedily at knowledge and wisdom; and in like manner, by itspractice, all the faults which form the diseases of the soul areconverted into their corresponding virtues. ' It is not to be doubtedthat chess-playing may keep individuals out of mischief; but, whatevermay have been the case in ancient times, we do not hear of itstransforming vicious characters into virtuous ones in our days. 

The eighth advantage is social, inasmuch as it brings men of differentdegrees together, and promotes their intimacy and friendship; and'advantage the ninth, is in wisdom and knowledge, and that wise men doplay chess; and to those who object that foolish men also play chess, and, though constantly engaged in it, become no wiser, it may beanswered, that the distinction between wise and foolish men in playingchess, is as that of man and beast in eating of the tree--that the manchooses its ripe and sweet fruit, while the beast eats but the leavesand branches, and the unripe and bitter fruit; and so it is withplayers at chess--the wise man plays for those virtues and advantageswhich have been already mentioned, and the foolish man plays it butfor mere sport and gambling, and regards not its advantages andvirtues. This is the condition of the wise man and foolish man inplaying chess. ' From this it seems a descent to the tenth advantage, which is, that chess combines war with sport; and pleasant allegoriesare made subservient to the inculcation of sound truths and importantprinciples. 

Next comes an explanation of the mode in which Great Chess was played, with the nature and value of the various moves. Among the hardtechnicalities with which it abounds, the writer takes occasion tocondemn the practice of giving a different value to the piece whichmay have reached the end of the board; 'for, ' as he says, 'what ismore natural or just than that men should occupy the station of theirpredecessors, and that the son of a king should become a king, and ageneral's son attain the rank of a general. ' An instance of rigidcaste-law carried into a harmless recreation. 

In another manuscript, chess is shewn to have something to do with aman's fortunes: he who could watch a game without speaking, was heldto be discreet, and qualified for a government office. And conquerorsare enjoined not to boast of their success; not to say, even if suchbe the case, that they have won all the games, but that they have 'wonsome. ' Exemplary virtue is not, however, claimed for chess-players, asin the former instance, for some are said to be continually 'swearingfalse oaths, and making many vain excuses;' and again, 'You never seea chess-player rich, who is not a sordid miser, nor hear a squabblingthat is not a question of the chess-board. ' On the other hand, therewere 'rules of politeness in chess, ' which it behoved all persons tofollow:--'He who is lowest in rank is to spread the board, and pourout the men on it, and then wait patiently till his superior has madehis choice; then he who is inferior may take his own men, and placeall of them except the king, and when the senior in rank has placedhis own king, he may also place his opposite to it. ' During the game, 'all foolish talk and ribaldry' is to be avoided, and onlookers are'to keep silence, and to abstain from remarks and advice to theplayers;' and an inferior, when playing with a superior, is enjoinedto exert his utmost skill, and not 'underplay himself that his seniormay win'--an observation which what is called the 'flunkey class'might remember with advantage. And further, chess is not to be played'when the mind is engaged with other objects, nor when the stomach isfull after a meal, neither when overcome by hunger, nor on the day oftaking a bath; nor, in general, while suffering under any pain, bodilyor mental. '

Chess-playing without looking at the board, now taught by professors, and supposed to be a comparatively modern art, was, as we have seenabove, known and practised many centuries ago; and among theinstructions last quoted are those for playing the 'blindfold-game. 'The player is 'to picture to himself the board as divided first intotwo opposite sides, and then each side into halves, those of the kingand the queen, so that when his naib, or deputy, announces that 'sucha knight has been played to the second of the queen's rook, ' or 'thequeen to the king's bishop's third, ' he may immediately understand itseffect on the position of the game. This mode of playing, however, isnot recommended to those who do not possess a powerful memory, withgreat reflection and perseverance, 'without which no man can playblindfold. ' These, with other instructions, are followed by theauthor's remark, 'that some have arrived to such a degree ofperfection as to have played blindfold at four or five boards at atime, nor to have made a mistake in any of the games, and to haverecited poetry during the match;' and he adds: 'I have seen it writtenin a book, that a certain person played in this manner at ten boardsat once, and gained all the games, and even corrected his adversarieswhen a mistake was made. '

Besides their conventional value, the pieces had a money value, whichwas essential to be known by all who desired to win. The rook andknight were estimated at about sixpence each; the queen, threepence;the pawns, three-halfpence; and the 'side-pawns, ' three farthings. Thevalue of bishops varied, while the king was beyond all price. Theregulations respecting odds were also well defined, in degrees from asingle pawn up to a knight and rook; but any one claiming the latterodds was held not 'to count as a chess-player. ' And it was not unusualfor works on chess to contain puzzling problems, representations ofdrawn games, and well-combined positions. Some authors describe fivedifferent kinds of chess: one had 10 × 10, or 100 squares; another wasoblong, 16 × 4, which employed dice as well as the usual pieces;another board was circular, with a central spot for the king, where hecould intrench himself in safety; another represented the zodiac, withspaces for each planet, according to the number of houses or mansionsassigned by astrologers. The ingenuity did not end here: chess wasmade to illustrate dreams, and to embellish many amusing games andrecreations. Odes and poems were written upon it, and the poets attimes exhibited their skill in a play upon words--for instance:

 'When my beloved learnt the chess-play of cruelty, In the very beginning of the game her sweet cheek (rukh) took my heart captive. '

It served also to point riddles, some of which exhibit remarkableingenuity, as shewn by the following example, where the name ofMohammed is enigmatically embodied. It is thus rendered:

 'The vow of Moses twice repeat; The principles of life and heat; The squares of chess, in order due, Must take their place between these two; When thus arranged, a name appears, Which every Muslim heart reveres. '

The solution, as given by a reverend ulema of Constantinople to alearned German who could not solve the mystery, is: 'Take the "vow ofMoses, " which is 40; double it, and it becomes 80, equivalent to thetwo Mims in the name Muhammed. Place under these the bases of thetemperaments--that is, the elements--which are four (the power of theletter D); then take the number of the houses (or squares) of chess, which are eight in a row, and place it (8 being equal to the letter H)between the two Ms, and you have the name of the prophet, Muhammed(MHMD. ')

'It has been necessary, ' observes Mr Bland, 'to turn the Arabiccommentary a little, in order to make the solution more intelligibleto those unacquainted with the trick of Eastern riddles. Some furtherexplanation is also required to illustrate the solution itself. The vow of Moses refers to his forty days' fast; the fourtemperaments--the bile, the atrabile, phlegm, and blood--arerepresented in the Arabian system of physics by the four elements, which are considered to be connected with them; the figures refer tothe numerical power of the _abjad_, or alphabet; and the enigma itselfhas been attributed, though on uncertain grounds, to Ali, theson-in-law of the prophet. '

'THE SUCCESSFUL MERCHANT. '

Under this title has lately been produced a novelty in our literature, the memoirs of an eminent commercial man. [2] Samuel Budgett died inMay 1851, at the age of fifty-seven. Though starting in life withoutcapital or credit, he had, by the sheer exercise of his own innatequalities, risen to the head of one of the most colossal _concerns_ inEngland. Had he been merely a clever bargainer, and a skilfulorganiser of business arrangements, there might have been some valuein his memoirs, as a guidance to young mercantile aspirants; butBudgett was something more than all this, and his biography serves thefar higher purpose of shewing how a man may be at once a most adroitmerchandiser, and a man of liberal practice, and a true lover of hiskind. Let it not be supposed that he was a _soft_ man, who hadprospered through some lucky accident. He really was a thorough-pacedfollower of the maxim which recommends buying in the cheapest andselling in the dearest market: he was reputed as _keen_ in business. But he was also kind-hearted and high-principled, and it is this unionof remarkable qualities which gives his memoirs their best value. 

Mr Budgett was a general provision-merchant at Bristol, with also alarge warehouse at Kingswood Hill, where his private residence was. His biographer presents him as he came daily into town to attend tobusiness. 'You might have often seen driving into Bristol, a man underthe middle size, verging towards sixty, wrapped up in a coat of deepolive, with gray hair, an open countenance, a quick brown eye, and anair less expressive of polish than of push. He drives a phaeton, witha first-rate horse, at full speed. He looks as if he had work to do, and had the art of doing it. On the way, he overtakes a woman carryinga bundle. In an instant, the horse is reined up by her side, and avoice of contagious promptitude tells her to put up her bundle andmount. The voice communicates to the astonished pedestrian its ownenergy. She is forthwith seated, and away dashes the phaeton. In a fewminutes, the stranger is deposited in Bristol, with the present ofsome pretty little book, and the phaeton hastes on to Nelson Street. There it turns into the archway of an immense warehouse. "Here, boy;take my horse, take my horse!" It is the voice of the head of thefirm. The boy flies. The master passes through the offices as if hehad three days' work to do. Yet his eye notes everything. He reacheshis private office. He takes from his pocket a memorandum-book, onwhich he has set down, in order, the duties of the day. A boy waits atthe door. He glances at his book, and orders the boy to call a clerk. The clerk is there promptly, and receives his instructions in amoment. "Now, what is the next thing?" asks the master, glancing athis memorandum. Again the boy is on the wing, and another clerkappears. He is soon dismissed. "Now, what is the next thing?" againlooking at the memorandum. At the call of the messenger, a young mannow approaches the office door. He is a "traveller;" butnotwithstanding the habitual push and self-possession of his class, heevidently is approaching his employer with reluctance andembarrassment. He almost pauses at the entrance. And now that he isface to face with the strict man of business, he feels much confused. 

"Well, what's the matter? I understand you can't make your cash quiteright. "

"No, sir. "

"How much are you short?"

"Eight pounds, sir. "

"Never mind; I am quite sure you have done what is right andhonourable. It is some mistake; and you won't let it happen again. Take this and make your account straight. "

'The young man takes the proffered paper. He sees an order for tenpounds; and retires as full of admiration as he had approached full ofanxiety. 

"Now, what is the next thing?" This time a porter is summoned. Hecomes forward as if he expected rebuke. "Oh! I have got such acomplaint reported against you. You know that will never do. You mustnot let that occur again. "

'Thus, with incredible dispatch, matter after matter is settled, andall who leave that office go to their work as if some one had oiledall their joints. 

'At another time, you find the master passing through the warehouse. Here, his quick glance descries a man who is moving drowsily, and hesays a sharp word that makes him, in a moment, nimble. There, he seesanother blundering at his work. He had no idea that the master's eyewas upon him, till he finds himself suddenly supplanted at the job. Ina trice, it is done; and his master leaves him to digest thestimulant. Now, a man comes up to tell him of some plan he has in hismind, for improving something in his own department of the business. "Yes, thank you, that's a good idea;" and putting half-a-crown intohis hand, he passes on. In another place he finds a man idling. Youcan soon see, that of all spectacles this is the one least to hismind. "If you waste five minutes, that is not much; but probably ifyou waste five minutes yourself, you lead some one else to waste fiveminutes, and that makes ten. If a third follow your example, thatmakes a quarter of an hour. Now, there are about a hundred and eightyof us here; and if every one wasted five minutes in a day, what wouldit come to? Let me see. Why, it would be fifteen hours; and fifteenhours a day would be ninety hours--about eight days, working-time, ina week; and in a year, would be four hundred days. Do you think wecould ever stand waste like that?" The poor loiterer is utterlyconfounded. He had no idea of eating up fifteen hours, much less fourhundred days, of his good employer's time; and he never saw before howfast five minutes could be multiplied. '

Mr Budgett was the son of a worthy couple, not exactly in poor, but inrather difficult circumstances. He had little school education; buthis mother gave him a good religious training. From his earliestintelligent years, he loved traffic. His first transaction was gettinga penny for a horse-shoe which he had found. Discovering that for ahalf-penny he got six marbles, but for a penny fourteen, he boughtpennyworths and sold them in half-pennyworths to his companions, thusrealising a profit. Meeting an old woman with a basket of cucumbers, he bought them, and by selling them again, realised ninepence. Trulyin his case the boy was father to the man. But, what was notable inhim, he would give away his accumulated profits all at once, in thepurchase of a hymn-book, or for the relief of some poor person. Eventhen, it was not for sordid or selfish ends that he trafficked. Inthese early years, his singular tact also came out. 'I remember, ' hesaid, 'about 1806 or 1807, a young man called on my mother, from MrD---- of Shepton, to solicit orders in the grocery trade. Hisintroduction and mode of treating my mother were narrowly watched byme, particularly when she asked the price of several articles. Ongoing in to my father, she remarked, there would be no advantage indealing with Mr D----, as she could not see that his prices were anylower than those she was in the habit of giving. I slipped aside, andbegan to think: "Why, that young man might have got my mother's trade, if he had known how; if, instead of mentioning so many articles, hehad just offered one or two at a lower price than we have been in thehabit of giving, she would have been induced to try those articles;and thus he would have been introduced, most likely, to her wholetrade: beside, his manner was rather loose, and not of the most modestand attractive kind. " I believe the practical lesson then learned has, since that, been worth to me thousands of pounds--namely, Self-interest is the mainspring of human actions: you have only to laybefore persons, in a strong light, that what you propose is to theirown interest, and you will generally accomplish your purpose. ' Thereare certainly few boys of twelve years who would have caught up suchan idea as this from so common-place a circumstance. 

By the time he was fourteen, he had realised thirty pounds by privatebarter. He gave the money to help his parents. When put as apprenticeto an elder brother, a grocer in Kingswood Hill, it might have beenexpected that he would speedily distinguish himself; and so he mighthave done as far as intellect was concerned; but, unluckily, hisstrength was at first inadequate for his duties, and his brotheractually sent him away as hopeless. With great difficulty, he made hisway into another trader's employment, and there he gave entiresatisfaction. His brother, then, reclaimed him, and though offered ahigher salary where he was, he returned to serve out his time. Longbefore that period had arrived, he was beginning to soar above retailbusiness. 'The markets were well watched, every advantage of time orchange turned to account, and his singular power of cheap buyingexerted with all vigour. The trade steadily grew; every now and thenthose in their own line were surprised at the sales they were able tomake, and the neighbourhood resounded with the news of the greatbargains to be had at Budgett's. As custom increased, so did envy andaccusation. Many scrupled not to declare, that they sold cheaper thanthey bought, and therefore must soon come to an end; yet they went on, year by year, in steady and rapid increase. . . . He already seemed todescry in the distance the possibility of a great wholesaleestablishment; but this must be reached by little and little. He wouldnot attempt what he could not accomplish. Any sudden bound, therefore, by which he was at once to pass the gulf now separating him from hisobject, was not to be thought of. A little at a time; secure what youhave, work it well, make it fruitful, and then push on a littlefarther; but never stretch out to anything new till all the old isperfectly cultivated. '

The brother, who was fifteen years his senior, and a man of ordinarycharacter, was borne on by the towering genius of Samuel theapprentice. 'Among the customers of the shop were numbers of goodwomen, who came from villages at a few miles' distance, mounted ondonkeys. As the flow of purchasers was great, a crowd of these patientsteeds would often be for a long time about the door, while theirrespective mistresses were obtaining goods. In this concourse from adistance, the quick eye of Samuel discovered the germ of an extendedtrade. Why should he not go into their neighbourhood regularly, andobtain their orders; so securing their custom always, and affordingthem accommodation, while he obtained new chances of extension? Hisbrother was much more inclined to pursue the regular course than tobranch into anything new; and the caution of the one probably acted asa useful counterbalance to the energy of the other. But Samuel was notto be held within the shop-walls: he had his plans for erecting agreat business, and no power could restrain him. He soon set forth tothe villages of Doynton and Pucklechurch, and arranged to meet thegood folks at fixed times, in one house or another convenient forthem, and there to receive their orders. He made himself their friend:he was hearty, familiar, and in earnest; he noticed their children; heknew their ways; and he rapidly gained their favour, and effectedconsiderable sales. '

'This point gained, he began to talk of supplying the smaller shops. "Why should not we supply them as well as other people?" His brothershrank from anything that seemed to approach the wholesale. He fearedthat they would get beyond their means, and wished to pursue only theold course. Samuel could wait, but he could not surrender. Supply thesmaller shops he would, and by degrees he managed to accomplish it. Very gradually, the range of this quasi-wholesale trade extended. Firmly keeping to his purpose of working all he had got, and going onlittle by little, he made no abrupt enterprise--no great dash; but on, on he plodded in the humblest way, caring nothing for show, butcareful that every foot of ground under him was solid. He graduallybegan to make a modest sort of commercial journey; and among tradesmento whom he would not venture to offer the higher articles of grocery, raised a considerable trade in such descriptions of goods as he mightsupply without seeming to push into too important a sphere. '

Having made a lucky purchase of butter, Samuel went amongst traders ofhis own kind for orders, and at first met with little but contempt. Hepersevered, nevertheless, and in a little time made his way. By littleand little his house, of which he became a partner, acquired afooting, and began to be talked of as a kind of prodigy for a village. The leading principle followed, was to do business entirely byready-money, in buying as in selling. A wonder may be felt how MrBudgett contrived, with no advantage of capital at starting, to actupon this rule. The plan is simple, and may be easily followed. Letthe transactions be in a proper proportion to the means. It looks aslow plan; but, in reality, by securing an exemption from pecuniaryembarrassment, it allows a business, other circumstances being equal, to go on faster than might otherwise be the case. Mr Budgett couldaccept small profits on his ready-money transactions, and by theirfrequency, outstrip heavier-pursed but also heavier-minded men. 

The leading maxims of Samuel Budgett in business were--_Tact_, _Push_, and _Principle_. In the two former, he was a great genius, and much heno doubt was indebted to them. Yet we are inclined to think thatPrinciple had the chief hand in his success. He was entirely a justman. He would rebuke a young salesman more severely for a slightinequality in his weighing-scales against the public, than for aneglect of his duty. It was a custom of grocers to mix up pepper withan article called P. D. Mr Budgett long kept a cask of P. D. ; but atlength, reflecting seriously on it one evening, he went to the shop, re-opened it, took out the hypocritical cask to a neighbouring quarry, and there staved it, scattering the P. D. Amongst the clods, and slags, and stones; after which he returned with a light heart to bed. Therewas also a benevolence at the bottom of all Mr Budgett's proceedingsas a man of business. It appeared strongly in his relations to hissubalterns and working-people. Though a strict disciplinarian, and notto be imposed upon in anything, he was so humane and liberal towardsall around him, that they served him as much from love as duty. He hasdischarged men for misconduct or disloyalty, and afterwards pensionedtheir families till they got other employment. His liberality insupporting charitable institutions, and relieving private cases ofdistress, knew hardly any bounds; but, at a fair computation, it hasbeen estimated at about L. 2000 a year. 

Observing one of his men looking for some time very melancholy, hecalled him up, and inquired into the cause. 'The sickness of his wifehad entangled him in debt; he could not eat, he could not sleep; hislife was a misery to him, and he had exclaimed with a pathos that sunkdeep into my dear relative's tender heart: "Master, I am in debt;every time I go near the river, something bids me fling myself intoit, telling me there's water enough to rid me of all my troubles; andthat if I don't, I shall be sent into the prison there for debt!"

'Deeply affected, he inquired of the poor man the names of hiscreditors, the amount of their respective claims, and the peculiarcircumstances which had led to the contraction of each liability. Having ascertained these particulars, and perfectly satisfied himselfthat the man had not forgotten the precept of the society of which hewas a member--"Not to contract debt without at least a reasonableprospect of discharging it"--he asked him whether freedom from theseliabilities would restore to him peace of mind. The question wasanswered by a sort of sickly smile, which seemed to indicate a perfectdespair of such a consummation. "Well, come, " said the master, "Idon't think things are quite so bad, ----, as they appear to be toyou. See here, my poor fellow, you owe ---- pounds: it's a very largesum for a man like you, to be sure; and if you had run into debt toanything like this amount through extravagance, or eventhoughtlessness, I should have regarded it as an act of dishonesty onyour part, and I _might_ have felt it right to discharge you. But youare to be pitied, and not to be blamed. Cold pity alone goes fornothing, so let us see how you can be helped out of your troubles. Now, do you think your creditors, considering all the circumstances, would take one-half, and be satisfied? Here's Dr Edwards--his bill isthe heaviest; if we can get him to take one-half"----

"One-half, master!" exclaimed the poor man, "but if they _would_ takehalf, where's the money to come from? I 'arn't got a shilling in theworld but what's coming to me Friday night; and when I take my wagesnow, I 'arn't any pleasure in looking at the money, because it 'arn'tmy own; it should go to pay my debts, and I'm obliged to use it to buyvictuals. I think in my heart I shall ne'er be happy again. "

'Still more sensibly affected by the poor man's manner the longer theinterview lasted, my kind-hearted relative begged him not to distresshimself any more; he said that a Friend of his had given him a sumthat was quite equal to one-half his debts, bade him return to hiswork, order a horse to be put into harness as he passed through theyard, and brought round in ten minutes; and told him to be sure tomake himself as happy as he could till he saw him again. Heimmediately drove round to every creditor the poor man had, compoundedwith them for their respective claims, and obtained their receipts infull discharge. On his return, the poor man's stare of bewildermentwas indescribable. He watched his master unfold the receipts one byone without uttering a syllable; and when they were put into his hand, he clutched them with a sort of convulsive grasp, but still not a wordescaped him. At length he exclaimed: "But, master, where's the moneycome from?"

"Never do you mind that, ----, " was the reply; "go home, and tell yourwife you are out of debt; you are an independent man. I only hope thecreditors have felt something of the satisfaction in forgiving youone-half your debt to them, that we know God feels in forgiving ourdebts to him for Christ's sake: I have said that much to all of them. "

'But the puzzling question had not yet been answered, and again it wasput: "But, master, where's the money come from?"

"Well, well, I told you a FRIEND had given it to me for you. _You_know that Friend as well as I do. There now, you may leave your workfor to-day: go home to your wife, and thank that Friend together formaking you an independent man. But stay, ----, I had almost forgottenone thing. I called to see Mr P---- as I drove through Stoke's Croft;I told him the errand that had carried me away from home all day, andhe gave me a sovereign for you to begin the world with. "

'The poor fellow was too much affected to say anything more. The nextmorning, however, he appeared again, but after a most complete failurein a valorous attempt he made to express his thanks, he was obliged toleave the counting-house, stammering out that "both he and his wifefelt their hearts to be as light as a feather. "'

Mr Budgett was, by family connection, a Wesleyan, and at all periodsof his life under a strong sense of religion. He had even acted as alay-preacher. It was his custom to have all the people of hisestablishment assembled for religious exercises every morning beforeproceeding to business. He was active as a Sunday-school teacher, andassisted with his purse and his own active exertions in every effortto Christianise the rude people of Kingswood. When he became ahighly-prosperous man, he had a good country-house and a handsomeestablishment; but wealth and its refinements never withdrew him fromfamiliar personal intercourse with his people. Neither did it ever inthe least alienate him from his many humble relations. His conduct, indeed, in all these respects was admirable, and well entitled him tobe, what he was, the most revered man of his neighbourhood andkindred. At his death, the expression of mourning was widely spread, as if the whole population had felt in his loss the loss of a friend. 

The volume which supplies us with these particulars and extracts, is avery interesting one; yet we could wish to see it abridged of someportion of the long episodes, in the style of pulpit discourses, withwhich the author has thought proper to expand it. If properlycondensed, and the details of the life presented given perhaps insomewhat better order, so as to explain more clearly the steps of MrBudgett's rise as a merchant, the work might become a _vade-mecum_ forthe young man of business, exhibiting to him a model of character andconduct such as could not but exercise a good influence over hisfuture career. 

FOOTNOTES:

[2] _The Successful Merchant_: Sketches of the Life of Mr SamuelBudgett, late of Kingswood Hill. By William Arthur, A. M. Hamilton, Adams, & Co. London: 1852. 

PET BIRDS OF INDIA. 

It is said, that when women addict themselves to vice of any kind, they carry it to extravagance, and become far worse than bad men. Inlike manner, when the natural softness and amiability of the Hindoocharacter yield to the temptations of luxury and dominion, theindividual grows into a tyrant as cruel and odious as any of thosedepicted in history. This apparent discrepancy has given rise to manyspeculative mistakes; but, in our opinion, it is as certain that themass of the Hindoos are gentle and kindly in their nature, as it isthat the mass of women are so. It is a curious thing to see thegallant sepoy on a march, attended by his pet lambs, with necklaces ofribbons and white shells, and ears and feet dyed of an orange colour. But even wild creatures are at home with the kindly Hindoo. Flutteringamong the peasants threshing corn in a field, are flocks of wildpeacocks, gleaning their breakfast; and in the neighbourhood of avillage, a traveller can hardly distinguish between the tame and wildducks, partridges, and peacocks. 'There is a fine date-tree, ' says arecent writer, 'overhanging a kind of school, at the end of one of thestreets in the town of Jubbulpore, quite covered with the nests of thebaya bird; and they are seen every day, and all day, fluttering aboutin scores, while the noisy children at their play fill the streetbelow, almost within arm's reach of them. '

Almost all the natives of India are fond of rearing pet birds; andthe pet is, more frequently than otherwise, a parrot, which is prizedfor its conversation. The same taste prevailed, we are told, in thefifteenth century, in the city of Paris, where talking-birds were hungout almost at every window. The authority says, that this was attendedwith rather an awkward result. 'Leading the public life they did, inwhich they were exposed to every sort of society, the natural moralityof the birds was so far lost, that they had become fluent in everyterm of reproach and indecency; and thunders of applause were elicitedamong the crowd of passengers by the aptness of their repartees. ' InIndia, the taste is the same, but the habits different; a sketch ofwhich we furnish from our Old Indian. The carpenter, she tells us, while planing the plank, which he holds between his toes, amuseshimself by talking to his parrot. The shoemaker, while binding hisslippers, or embroidering his rich velvet shoes, for the feet of somesable beauty, pauses every now and then, to listen to the chatteringof his pet. The _guala_, on returning home, after disposing of hisbutter or buttermilk, first takes up some bamboo twigs, one of whichis appropriated to each customer, and marking, by a notch with aknife, the quantity disbursed to each, turns, as a matter of course, to his favourite parrot, and either listens to the recital of hisprevious lessons, or begins to teach him some fresh invocation to somescore of gods and goddesses. These men seldom condescend to teachtheir favourites anything else; but should a lady be the owner, theparrot's lessons are more varied, and more domestic in theircharacter. He is taught to call his mistress 'mother, ' and himself'Baba mittoo' (sweet child. ) He is sometimes instructed to rail at herneighbours, and sometimes to scold the children; and thus she lives insweet companionship with her bird, feeding him with steeped grain, rice and milk, sugar-cane and Indian corn. Of the two last he isexceedingly fond. 

India abounds in a variety of parrots and perroquets, the names ofmany of which I have forgotten; but the generic name is _Tota_. Themore common are the _kudjlah_, _teeah_, and _pahari_. These learn tospeak glibly, being generally taken out of the nest before they arefully fledged. Crutches of various kinds are selected for the poorcaptive, the most ingenious of which is made of a single joint ofbamboo, the two ends being formed into cups--the middle part beingcut, and then bent and arched over the fire; the perch being formed ofa straight piece of bamboo, which joins the two cups below. A hookfastened to the top of the arch enables the owner to suspend it fromthe thatched ceiling of his hut; and thus the parrot swings about, listening to his master's pious ejaculations. At dusk, many of thesemen may be seen parading through the bazaar, with their pets in theirhands, the latter loudly vociferating that Brahma is the greatest ofgods, or that Krishna and Radha were a loving couple; and so on. Ihave often been amused at this mode of displaying religious zeal andpious adoration. 

Should you penetrate into the more crowded parts of the bazaar, youmight happen to see the taste of the bird-fancier displayed after adifferent, but, I am happy to say, exceptional fashion. A shop maysometimes be found having a square space enclosed with a railing, witha divan in the middle, for the accommodation of the master and hisvisitors. On this railing a number of birds are perched, many of themlittle tame bulbuls; these are detained by a ligature, passing overthe shoulders of the bird, and tied under the breast, leaving hiswings and legs free. The bulbul, though not the bird known by thatname in Persia, is a pretty songster; but he is as desperate a fighteras a gamecock. Those, therefore, who delight in cruel sports, bringtheir little pets to these shops, where no doubt birds of the bestmettle are to be found; and on the result of a battle, money andsweetmeats are lost and won, while many a poor little bird falls asacrifice to its master's depraved taste. The tiny _amadavad_, withhis glowing carmine neck, and distinct little pearly spots, may alsooccasionally be seen doing battle; he fights desperately, though healso warbles the sweetest of songs. 

The affluent Hindoo Baboo or Mohammedan Nawab, among other luxuries, keeps also his aviary. In these may be seen rare and expensiveparrots, brought from the Spice Islands. They delight also in _diyuls_and _shamahs_. The latter is a smaller bird than our thrush, butlarger than a lark; his breast is orange, the rest of his plumageblack, and in song he is equal to our black-bird. The diyul also singssweetly; he is about the same size as the shamah, his plumage black, with a white breast, and white tips to his wings. A well-trained birdof either kind sells for about ten rupees, and twenty will be givenfor a cuckoo from the Nepaul hills. A Baboo whom I knew had severalservants to look after his aviary, one of whom had to go daily insearch of white ants and ants' eggs for his insectivorous charge; forthe shamah and diyul are both insect-eaters. 

Some of the _Minas_ (Gracula), of which there are several kinds inIndia, articulate as distinctly, and are as imitative, as the parrots. One of these birds was once brought as a present to my little girl. The donor took his leave, assuring us that the bird was a greatspeaker, and imitated a variety of sounds. This I found to be tootrue, for I was awakened by him next morning at dawn of day. He hadevidently been bred in the neighbourhood of the hospital, and alsoinitiated into the mysteries of the parade. He coughed like aconsumptive patient, groaned like one in agony, and moaned as if inthe last extremity. Then he would call a 'halt!' and imitate thejingling of the ramrods in the muskets so exactly, that I marvelledhow his little throat could go through so many modulations. I was soonobliged to banish him to a distance from the sleeping-apartments, forsome of his utterances were anything but suggestive of soothing orpleasurable sensations. 

The hill mina, a mountaineer by birth, seldom lives long inconfinement in lowland districts. After having endeared himself to hismaster and his family by his conversational powers and imitativequalities, he is not unfrequently cut off suddenly by a fit, andsometimes expires while feasting on his bread and milk orpea-meal-paste, or perhaps when he has only a few minutes before beencalling out loudly his master's name or those of the children. Thehill mina is a handsome bird, a size larger than our black-bird; he isof one uniform colour--a glossy black, like the smoothest Genoavelvet, harmonising beautifully with the bright yellow circle of skinround his eyes, his yellow beak and yellow legs. 

The grackle or salik, which is a great favourite in the Isle ofFrance, has been correctly enough described in _Partington'sCyclopædia_. It is a gregarious bird, greatly enlivening the aspect ofthe grassy meadows at sunset, when his comrades assemble in largeflocks, and having picked up their last meal of grubs andgrasshoppers, resort for shelter to a neighbouring avenue, where theyroost for the night. The grackle is a tame and familiar bird, and willsometimes build its nest close to the habitation of man. I have seenone on the top of a pillar, under the shelter of a veranda; andoccasionally an earthen-pot is placed for its accommodation in thefork of a neighbouring tree. Though their brood may be constantlyremoved, they will return, year after year, to the same nest, expressing, however, their discontent and distress when robbed, bykeeping up for some days a loud and querulous chattering. 

Those who dwell on the banks of the Ganges may sometimes see, duringthe rainy season, a large boat floating past, having a raised cabin, like a Bengalee hut, constructed of mat and straw. From themultiplicity of cages inside and outside, it may be gathered that hereare fresh supplies for the bird-fancier--captives from the hills ofRajmahal and Moryheer. The constant fluttering among the inmates ofthe crowded cages, and their mournful and discordant notes, indicatethat they are anything but a happy family--that they have been onlyrecently caught, and are not yet habituated to confinement. They aresoon, however, disposed of at the different stations or towns at whichthe boat anchors, and become in due time the solitary and apparentlyhappy pets I have already described. 

I need only add, that there is no lack of pretty little bird-cages inthe Far East, constructed very tastefully by the neat-handed natives, and sold for two or three annas. 

JUVENILE ENERGY. 

In December 1807, W. H. Maynard, Esq. , was teaching a school for aquarter in the town of Plainfield, Massachusetts. One cold, blusteringmorning, on entering his schoolroom, he observed a lad he had not seenbefore, sitting on one of the benches. The lad soon made known hiserrand to Mr Maynard. He was fifteen years old; his parents livedseven miles distant; he wanted an education, and had come from home onfoot that morning, to see if Mr Maynard could help him to contrive howto obtain it. Mr Maynard asked him if he was acquainted with any onein the place. 'No. ' 'Do your parents know any one here?' 'No. ' 'Canyour parents help you towards obtaining an education?' 'No. ' 'Have youany friends that can give you assistance!' 'No. ' 'Well, how do youexpect to obtain an education?' 'I don't know, but I thought I wouldcome and see you. ' Mr Maynard told him to stay that day, and he wouldsee what could be done. He discovered that the boy was possessed ofgood sense, but no uncommon brilliancy; and he was particularly struckwith the cool and resolute manner in which he undertook to conquerdifficulties which would have intimidated common minds. In the courseof the day, Mr Maynard made provision for having him boarded throughthe winter in the family with himself, the lad paying for his board byhis services out of school. He gave himself diligently to study, inwhich he made good but not rapid proficiency, improving everyopportunity of reading and conversation for acquiring knowledge: andthus spent the winter. When Mr Maynard left the place in the spring, he engaged a minister, who had resided about four miles from the boy'sfather, to hear his recitations; and the boy accordingly boarded athome and pursued his studies. It is unnecessary to pursue thenarrative further. Mr Maynard never saw the lad afterwards. But thiswas the early history of the Rev. Jonas King, D. D. , whose exertions inthe cause of Oriental learning, and in alleviating the miseries ofGreece, have endeared him alike to the scholar and the philanthropist, and shed a bright ray of glory on his native country. 

LITERARY CIRCLES OF LONDON. 

The society of the literary world of London is conducted after thiswise:--There are certain persons, for the most part authors, editors, or artists, but with the addition of a few who can only pridethemselves upon being the patrons of literature and art--who holdperiodical assemblies of the notables. Some appoint a certain eveningin every week during the season, a general invitation to which isgiven to the favoured; others are monthly; and others, again, at noregular intervals. At these gatherings, the amusements areconversation and music only, and the entertainment is unostentatiousand inexpensive, consisting of tea and coffee, wine or negus handedabout in the course of the evening, and sandwiches, cake, and wine ateleven o'clock. Suppers are prohibited by common consent, forcostliness would speedily put an end to society too agreeable to besacrificed to fashion. The company meets usually between eight andnine, and always parts at midnight. --_The Critic_. 

THE SKY-LARK'S SONG. 

 It comes down from the clouds to me, On this sweet day of spring; Methinks it is a melody That angel-lips might sing. 

 Thou soaring minstrel! wingèd bard! Whose path is the free air, Whose song makes sunshine seem more bright, And this fair world more fair!

 I ask not what the strain may be, Thus chanted at 'Heaven's gate'-- A hymn of praise, a lay of joy, Or love-song to thy mate. 

 Vain were such idle questioning! And 'tis enough for me To feel thou singest still the notes Which God gave unto thee. 

 Thence comes the glory of thy song, And therefore doth it fall, As falls the radiance of a star, Gladdening and blessing all!

 Oh! wondrous are the living lays That human lips have breathed, And deep the music men have won From lyres with laurel wreathed:

 But there's a spell on lip and lyre, Sweet though their tones may be-- Some jarring note, some tuneless string, Aye mars the melody. 

 The strings sleep 'neath too weak a touch, Or break, 'neath one too strong; Or we forget the master-chord That should rule all our song. 

 When shall our spirit learn again The lay once to it given? When shall we rise, like thee, sweet bird! And, singing, soar to heaven?

 FANNY FARMER. 

DOG-SELLING EXTRAORDINARY. 

Two ladies, friends of a near relative of my own, from whom I receivedan account of the circumstance, were walking in Regent Street, andwere accosted by a man who requested them to buy a beautiful littledog, covered with long, white hair, which he carried in his arms. Suchthings are not uncommon in that part of London, and the ladies passedon without heeding him. He followed, and repeated his entreaties, stating, that as it was the last he had to sell, they should have itat a reasonable price. They looked at the animal; it was really anexquisite little creature, and they were at last persuaded. The mantook it home for them, received his money, and left the dog in thearms of one of the ladies. A short time elapsed, and the dog, whichhad been very quiet, in spite of a restless, bright eye, began to shewsymptoms of uneasiness, and as he ran about the room, exhibited someunusual movements, which rather alarmed the fair purchasers. At last, to their great dismay, the new dog ran squeaking up one of the windowcurtains, so that when the gentleman returned home a few minutesafter, he found the ladies in consternation, and right glad to havehis assistance. He vigorously seized the animal, took out hispenknife, cut off its covering, and displayed _a large rat_ to theirastonished eyes, and of course to its own destruction. --_Mrs Lee'sAnecdotes of Animals_. 

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