CHAMBERS' EDINBURGH JOURNAL

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

 No. 440. NEW SERIES. SATURDAY, JUNE 5, 1852. PRICE 1-1/2_d. _

VISIT TO THE SCENE OF THE HOLMFIRTH FLOOD. 

The great flood which took place in the valley of Holmfirth inFebruary last, was in itself a deeply-interesting and awe-excitingincident. I was curious to visit the scene, while the results of thecatastrophe were still fresh, both on account of the sympathy I feltwith the sufferers, and because of some physical problems which Ithought might be illustrated by the effects, so far as these werestill traceable. I therefore took an opportunity on the 22d of April, to proceed from Manchester to Holmfirth, accompanied by two friends, one of whom, though he had not visited the place since the calamityhappened, was well acquainted with the scene and with the countrygenerally, so as to be able to guide us in our walk. A railwayexcursion to Huddersfield, and a second trip on a different line fromthat town to the village of Holmfirth, introduced us to a region ofsoftly-rounded hills and winding valleys, precisely resembling thoseof the Southern Highlands of Scotland, as might indeed be expectedfrom the identity of the formation (Silurian), but which had thispeculiar feature in addition, that every here and there was a littlecloth-making village, taking advantage of the abundant water-powerderived from the mountain-slopes. The swelling heights were brown andbare, like those of Tweeddale; and there the blackcock may still, Ibelieve, be found. The slopes are purely pastoral, with smallfarm-steadings scattered over them. But down in the bottom of thedale, we see the heavy stone-and-lime mill starting up from the barelandscape, with a sprawling village of mean cottages surrounding it, giving token of an industrial life totally opposite to that which isfound beside the silver streams of the Tweed and its tributaries. Whenwe passed near any of these spots, we were sure to catch the unlovelydetails, so frequently, though so unnecessarily attendant onfactory-life--the paltry house, the unpaved, unscavengered street, thefry of dirty children. It was a beautiful tract of natural scenery inthe process of being degraded by contact with man and his works. 

Arriving at Holmfirth at one o'clock, we found it to be a somewhatbetter kind of village, chiefly composed of one or two irregularstreets running along the bottom of a narrow valley. Hitherto, inpassing up the lower part of the vale, we had looked in vain for anytraces of the inundation; but now we suddenly found ourselves in themidst of ruin and devastation. Holmfirth is only two miles and a halffrom the reservoir, and being at a contracted part of the valley, thewater came upon it in great depth and with great force. We found abridge deprived of its parapets, the boundary-walls of factoriesbroken down, and court-yards filled with débris and mud. Several largehouses had end or side walls taken away, or were shattered pastremedy. In a narrow street running parallel with the river, and insome places open to it, many of the houses bore chalk-marks a littleway up the second storey, indicating the height to which the flood hadreached. When we looked across the valley, and mentally scanned thespace below that level, we obtained some idea of the immense stream ofwater which had swept through, or rather over the village. 

A rustic guide, obtained at the inn, went on with us through the town, pointing out that in this factory precious machinery had been sweptaway--in that house a mother and five children had been drowned intheir beds--here some wonderful escape had taken place--there hadbefallen some piteous tragedy. Soon clearing the village, we came to afactory which stood in the bottom of the valley, with some ruinedbuildings beside it. This had been the property of a Mr Sandford, andhe lived close to his mill. Taken completely unprepared by theinundation, he and his family had been carried off, along with nearlyevery fragment of their house. His body was discovered a considerabletime after, at a distance of many miles down the valley. It may beremarked, that about 100 people perished in the flood; and out of thatnumber, at the time of our visit, only one body remained unrecovered. 

The catastrophe is too recent to require much detail. It took itsorigin, as is well known, in a reservoir of water for the use of themills, formed by a dam across the valley. This had been constructed in1838, and in an imperfect manner. The embankment, eighty feet inheight, sloped outwards and inwards, with facings of masonry, thusobeying the proper rule as to form; but the _puddling_, or clay-casingof the interior, was defective, and it is believed that a springexisted underneath. Some years ago, the embankment began to sink, sothat its upper line became a curve, the deepest part of which waseight or ten feet below the uppermost. This should have given somealarm to the commissioners appointed to manage the reservoir; and thedanger was actually pointed out, and insisted upon so long ago as1844. But the commission became insolvent, and went into Chancery; sonothing was done. A sort of safety-valve is provided in such works, exactly of the same nature as the waste-pipe of a common cistern. Itconsists of a hollow tower of masonry rising within the embankment, inconnection with a sluice-passage, or _by-wash_, by which the water maybe let off. This tower, rising to within a few feet of the originalupper level of the embankment, was of course sure to receive anddischarge any water which might come to the height of its own lip, thus insuring that the water should never quite fill the reservoir, orcharge it beyond its calculated strength. By the sluice provision, again, the water could at any time be discharged, even before itreached nearly so high a point. Unfortunately, this part of the workwas in an inefficient state, the embankment having itself sunk belowthe level of the open-mouthed top of the tower, while the sluice belowwas blocked up with rubbish. It was subsequently declared by themanager, that this defect might have been remedied at any time by anexpenditure of L. 12, 10s. ! If the commission could not or would notadvance this small sum, one would have thought that the mill-ownersmight have seen the propriety of clubbing for so cheap a purchase ofsafety. They failed to do so, and the destruction of property to theextent of half a million, the interruption of the employment of 7000people, and the loss of 100 lives, has been the consequence. Surelythere never was a more striking illustration of the Old Richardproverb: 'For want of a nail the shoe was lost, for want of a shoe thehorse was lost, ' &c. 

The night between the 4th and 5th of February was one of calmmoonlight; but heavy rains had fallen for a fortnight before, and anuncommon mass of water had been accumulated behind the Bilberryembankment. The vague apprehensions of bypast years reviving at thiscrisis, some neighbours had been on the outlook for a catastrophe. They gathered at midnight round the spot, speculating on what would bethe consequence if that huge embankment should burst. There werealready three leaks in it, and the water was beginning to pour overthe upper edge. A member of the 'sluice-committee' was heard to say, that before two o'clock there would be such a scene as no one had everseen the like of, and not a mill would be left in the valley. Twopersons were then _understood_ to be sent off, to give warning to thepeople down the valley; but no good account of the proceedings ofthese two messengers has ever been given. It appears as if the verysingularity of the dreaded event created a confidence in its nottaking place. By and by, a breach was made in the casing of theembankment just below the top; the water then got in between thecasing further down, and the puddle or clay which invested theinternal mass, composed of mere rubbish. In half an hour, a greatextent of this case was heaved off by the water, and immediately aftera tremendous breach was made through the embankment, and an aqueousavalanche poured through. Men then began to run down the valley, towaken the sleepers, but the water ran faster. In a few minutes, it hadreached the village, two miles and a half distant, carrying with itnearly everything which came directly in its way. It is said to havetaken nearly twenty minutes to pass that village--a fact which gives astriking idea of the enormous mass of water concerned. 

About a mile and a half above the village, we came to a modern church, which had been set down in the bottom of the valley, close to theriver-side. Entering, we found some curious memorials of the operationof water, in the upbreak of the whole system of flooring and seating, which now lay in irregular distorted masses, mingled with all kinds ofrubbish. Bibles and prayer-books still lay about among the seats, asif the people had never so far recovered from the hopeless feelingoriginally impressed upon them, as to put out a hand for therestoration of order. The position of this church and its fate giveoccasion for a remark which, if duly remembered and acted upon, maysave many a good building from destruction. It should be known, thatthe meadow close beside a river--what is called in Scotland the_haugh_--is not a suitable place for any building or town, and thissimply because it is, strictly speaking, a part of the river-bed. Itis the winter or flood-channel of the stream, and has indeed beenformed by it during inundations. Unless, therefore, under favour ofstrong embankments, no building there can be secure from occasionalinundation. Thus, for example, a large part of Westminster, and nearlythe whole borough of Southwark, are built where no human dwellingsshould be. The fair city of Perth is a solecism in point of site, andmany a flooding it gets in consequence. When a higher site can beobtained in the neighbourhood, out of reach of floods, it is purefolly to build in a _haugh_--that is, the first plain beside a river. 

We were coming within a mile of the Bilberry embankment, when we beganto observe a new class of phenomena. Hitherto, the channel of thestream had not exhibited any unusual materials; nor had its banks beenmuch broken, except in a few places. We had been on the outlook toobserve if the flood, and the heavy matters with which it was charged, had produced any abrasion of the subjacent rock-structure. No sucheffects could be traced. We were now, however, getting within therange of the scattered débris of the embankment, and quickly detectedthe presence of masses of a kind of rubbish different from the roundedpebbles usually found in the bed of a river. There were long_traînées_, composed of mud and clay, including angular blocks ofstone, which were constantly increasing in size as we passed onwards. These blocks were the materials of the embankment, which the water hadcarried thus far. No ploughing up of the channel had taken place, butsimply much new matter had been deposited. In some places, these freshdeposits had transgressed into the fields; and where trees wereinvolved, the bark on the side toward the upper part of the valley hadgenerally been rubbed off. Not much more than a quarter of a mile fromthe reservoir, we found Mrs Birst's mill, or rather a memorial of itsformer existence, in a tall furnace-chimney, for literally no moresurvives. The deposit of rubbish was here eight or ten feet deep, anda number of workmen were engaged in excavating from it fragments ofmachinery and other articles. They had cleared out the ground-rooms ofthe house, though little more than the base of the walls remained. Thescene was precisely like an excavation at Herculaneum. The outline ofthe rooms was beginning to be traceable. A grate and a fireplaceappeared. We observed a child's shoe taken out and laid aside--anaffecting image of the household desolation which had taken place. MrsBirst, however, and her whole family, had been fortunate enough toescape with life, although with the loss of all their property. Thismill, from its nearness to the reservoir, as well as thecontractedness of the valley at the spot, had experienced the violenceof the flood in a degree of intensity unknown elsewhere. 

The space between Mrs Birst's mill and the reservoir is for a good waycomparatively open, and here some good land had been completelydestroyed; but for two or three hundred yards below the reservoir thevalley is very narrow, and there some extraordinary effects areobservable. The flood, at its first outburst here, has exercised greatforce upon the sides of the valley, carrying off from the cliffsseveral huge blocks, which it has transported a good way down. Threeof from five to seven tons' weight are spoken of as carried half amile, and one of probably twenty tons is seen about a quarter of amile below the place whence it evidently has been torn. These areprodigies to the rustic population, little accustomed to think of thedynamics of water, and totally ignorant of the deduction made in suchcircumstances from the specific gravity of any heavy mass carried byit. Geologists, who have looked into the great question of erraticblocks, are less apt to be startled by such phenomena. 

Some of these gentlemen will, I suspect, find the transport of blocksat Holmfirth less remarkable than they could have desired. It is wellknown that, while most of them ascribe the travelling of boulders tothe working of ice in former times, one or two persist in thinkingthat water may have done it all. The present president of theGeological Society has endeavoured to shew, by mathematical reasoningschiefly, that the blocks of Shap Fell granite, scattered to the southand east in Yorkshire, may have been carried there by a retreatingwave, on the mountain being suddenly raised out of the sea. Now hereis a moving flood, of greater force than any retreating wave couldwell be; and yet we see that it does not carry similar blocks ahundredth part of the way to which those masses of Shap Fell have beentransported, even although their course was all downwards moreover--adifferent case from that of many of the Shap boulders, which are foundto have breasted considerable heights before resting where they noware. 

At length, after a toilsome walk along the rough surface of thedébris, we reached the place whence this wonderful flood had burst. Wefound on each side of the valley a huge lump of the embankmentremaining, while a vast gulf yawned between. This was somewhatdifferent from what we expected; for we had seen it stated in thenewspapers, that the whole was swept away. So far from this being thecase, fully half of the entire mass remains, including portions ofthat central depression which has been spoken of. There is moreimportance in remarking this fact than may at first sight appear. Inthe investigation of the mysterious subject of the Parallel Roads ofGlenroy, one theory has been extensively embraced--that they wereproduced by a lake, which has since burst its bounds and beendischarged. It has been asked: Where was the dam that retained thislake? and should we not expect, if there was any such dam, that itcould not be wholly swept away? Would not fragments of it be found atthe sides of the valley--the breaking down of the centre beingsufficient to allow the waters to pass out? When we look at the massesleft on each side of the Bilberry embankment, we see the force andpertinence of these queries, and must admit that the lake theory is sofar weakened. In the bottom of the breach, a tiny rill is now seenmaking its exit--the same stream which cumulatively took so formidablea shape a few months ago. For a mile up the valley, we see traces ofthe ground having been submerged. Immediately within the embankment, on the right side of the streamlet, is the empty tower or by-wash, that dismal monument of culpable negligence. We gazed on it with astrange feeling, thinking how easy it would have been to demolish twoor three yards of it, so as to allow an innocuous outlet to thepent-up waters. When we had satisfied our curiosity, we commenced atoilsome march across the hills to a valley, in which there has latelybeen formed a series of embankments for the saving up of water for thesupply of the inhabitants of Manchester. About six in the evening, wereached a public-house called the 'Solitary Shepherd, ' where we hadtea and a rest; after which, a short walk in the dusk of the eveningbrought us to a station of the Manchester and Sheffield Railway, bywhich we were speedily replaced in Manchester, thus accomplishing ourvery interesting excursion in about ten hours. 

My final reflections on what we had seen were of a mixed order. Viewing the inundation as a calamity which might have been avoided bya simple and inexpensive precaution, one could not but feel that itstood up as a sore charge against human wisdom. That so huge a dangershould have been treated so lightly; that men should have gone onsquabbling about who should pay a mere trifle of money, when suchlarge interests and so many lives were threatened by itsnon-expenditure, certainly presents our mercantile _laissez-faire_system in a most disagreeable light. But, then, view the other side. When once the calamity had taken place, and the idea of the consequentextensive suffering had got abroad amongst the public, thousands ofpounds came pouring in for the relief of that suffering. The large sumof L. 60, 000 was collected for the unfortunates; and it is anundoubted, though surprising fact, that the collectors had at last tointimate that they required no more. It is thus that human natureoften appears unworthy and contemptible when contemplated with regardto some isolated circumstance, as misanthropes, poets, and such like, are apt to regard it. But take it in wider relations, take it in thetotality of its action, and the lineaments of its divine origin andinherent dignity are sure to shine out. 

REMINISCENCES OF AN ATTORNEY. 

THE INCENDIARY. 

I knew James Dutton, as I shall call him, at an early period of life, when my present scanty locks of iron-gray were thick and dark, my nowpale and furrowed cheeks were fresh and ruddy, like his own. Time, circumstance, and natural bent of mind, have done their work on bothof us; and if his course of life has been less equable than mine, ithas been chiefly so because the original impulse, the first start onthe great journey, upon which so much depends, was directed by wiserheads in my case than in his. We were school-fellows for aconsiderable time; and if I acquired--as I certainly did--a largerstock of knowledge than he, it was by no means from any superiorcapacity on my part, but that his mind was bent on other pursuits. Hewas a born Nimrod, and his father encouraged this propensity from theearliest moment that his darling and only son could sit a pony, orhandle a light fowling-piece. Dutton, senior, was one of a then largeclass of persons, whom Cobbett used to call bull-frog farmers; menwho, finding themselves daily increasing in wealth by the operationof circumstances they neither created nor could insure orcontrol--namely, a rapidly increasing manufacturing population, andtremendous war-prices for their produce--acted as if the chance-blownprosperity they enjoyed was the result of their own forethought, skill, and energy, and therefore, humanly speaking, indestructible. James Dutton was, consequently, denied nothing--not even the luxury ofneglecting his own education; and he availed himself of the lamentableprivilege to a great extent. It was, however, a remarkable feature inthe lad's character, that whatever he himself deemed essential shouldbe done, no amount of indulgence, no love of sport or dissipation, could divert him from thoroughly accomplishing. Thus he saw clearly, that even in the life--that of a sportsman-farmer--he had chalked outfor himself, it was indispensably necessary that a certain quantum ofeducational power should be attained; and so he really acquired aknowledge of reading, writing, and spelling, and then withdrew fromschool to more congenial avocations. 

I frequently met James Dutton in after-years; but some nine or tenmonths had passed since I had last seen him, when I was directed bythe chief partner in the firm to which Flint and I subsequentlysucceeded, to take coach for Romford, Essex, in order to ascertainfrom a witness there what kind of evidence we might expect him to givein a trial to come off in the then Hilary term, at Westminster Hall. It was the first week in January: the weather was bitterly cold; and Iexperienced an intense satisfaction when, after despatching thebusiness I had come upon, I found myself in the long dining-room ofthe chief market-inn, where two blazing fires shed a ruddy, cheerfullight over the snow-white damask table-cloth, bright glasses, decanters, and other preparatives for the farmers' market-dinner. Prices had ruled high that day; wheat had reached L. 30 a load; andthe numerous groups of hearty, stalwart yeomen present were in highglee, crowing and exulting alike over their full pockets and thenews--of which the papers were just then full--of the burning ofMoscow, and the flight and ruin of Bonaparte's army. James Dutton wasin the room, but not, I observed, in his usual flow of animal spirits. The crape round his hat might, I thought, account for that; and as hedid not see me, I accosted him with an inquiry after his health, andthe reason of his being in mourning. He received me very cordially, and in an instant cast off the abstracted manner I had noticed. Hisfather, he informed me, was gone--had died about seven monthspreviously, and he was alone now at Ash Farm--why didn't I run downthere to see him sometimes, &c. ? Our conversation was interrupted by asummons to dinner, very cheerfully complied with; and we both--atleast I can answer for myself--did ample justice to a more thanusually capital dinner, even in those capital old market-dinner times. We were very jolly afterwards, and amazingly triumphant over thefrost-bitten, snow-buried soldier-banditti that had so long lorded itover continental Europe. Dutton did not partake of the generalhilarity. There was a sneer upon his lip during the whole time, which, however, found no expression in words. 

'How quiet you are, James Dutton!' cried a loud voice from out thedense smoke-cloud that by this time completely enveloped us. Onlooking towards the spot from whence the ringing tones came, a jolly, round face--like the sun as seen through a London fog--gleamed redlydull from out the thick and choking atmosphere. 

'Everybody, ' rejoined Dutton, 'hasn't had the luck to sell two hundredquarters of wheat at to-day's price, as you have, Tom Southall. '

'That's true, my boy, ' returned Master Southall, sending, in theplenitude of his satisfaction, a jet of smoke towards us withastonishing force. 'And, I say, Jem, I'll tell ee what I'll do; I'llclap on ten guineas more upon what I offered for the brown mare. '

'Done! She's yours, Tom, then, for ninety guineas!'

'Gie's your hand upon it!' cried Tom Southall, jumping up from hischair, and stretching a fist as big as a leg of mutton--well, saylamb--over the table. 'And here--here, ' he added, with an exultantchuckle, as he extricated a swollen canvas-bag from hispocket--'here's the dibs at once. '

This transaction excited a great deal of surprise at our part of thetable; and Dutton was rigorously cross-questioned as to his reason forparting with his favourite hunting mare. 

'The truth is, friends, ' said Dutton at last, 'I mean to give upfarming, and'----

'Gie up farmin'!' broke in half-a-dozen voices. 'Lord!'

'Yes; I don't like it. I shall buy a commission in the army. There'llbe a chance against Boney, now; and it's a life I'm fit for. '

The farmers looked completely agape at this announcement; but makingnothing of it, after silently staring at Dutton and each other, withtheir pipes in their hands and not in their mouths, till they had goneout, stretched their heads simultaneously across the table towards thecandles, relit their pipes, and smoked on as before. 

'Then, perhaps, Mr Dutton, ' said a young man in a smartly-cutvelveteen coat with mother-of-pearl buttons, who had hastily left hisseat further down the table--'perhaps you will sell the double Manton, and Fanny and Slut?'

'Yes; at a price. '

Prices were named; I forget now the exact sums, but enormous prices, Ithought, for the gun and the dogs, Fanny and Slut. The bargain waseagerly concluded, and the money paid at once. Possibly the buyer hada vague notion, that a portion of the vender's skill might come to himwith his purchases. 

'You be in 'arnest, then, in this fool's business, James Dutton, 'observed a farmer gravely. 'I be sorry for thee; but as I s'pose thelease of Ash Farm will be parted with; why---- John, waiter, tellMaster Hurst at the top of the table yonder, to come this way. '

Master Hurst, a well-to-do, highly respectable-looking, and ratherelderly man, came in obedience to the summons, and after a few wordsin an under-tone with the friend that had sent for him, said: 'Is thistrue, James Dutton?'

'It is true that the lease and stock of Ash Farm are to be sold--at aprice. You, I believe, are in want of such a concern for the youngcouple, just married. '

'Well, I don't say I might not be a customer, if the price werereasonable. '

'Let us step into a private room, then, ' said Dutton rising. 'This isnot a place for business of that kind. Sharp, ' he added, _sotto voce_, 'come with us; I may want you. '

I had listened to all this with a kind of stupid wonderment, and Inow, mechanically as it were, got up and accompanied the party toanother room. 

The matter was soon settled. Five hundred pounds for the lease--tenyears unexpired--of Ash Farm, about eleven hundred acres, and thestock, implements; the ploughing, sowing, &c. Already performed, to bepaid for at a valuation based on present prices. I drew out theagreement in form, it was signed in duplicate, a large sum was paiddown as deposit, and Mr Hurst with his friend withdrew. 

'Well, ' I said, taking a glass of port from a bottle Dutton had justordered in--'here's fortune in your new career; but as I am a livingman, I can't understand what you can be thinking about. '

'You haven't read the newspapers?'

'O yes, I have! Victory! Glory! March to Paris! and all that sort ofthing. Very fine, I daresay; but rubbish, moonshine, I call it, ifpurchased by the abandonment of the useful, comfortable, joyous lifeof a prosperous yeoman. '

'Is that all you have seen in the papers?'

'Not much else. What, besides, have you found in them?'

'Wheat, at ten or eleven pounds a load--less perhaps--other produce inproportion. '

'Ha!'

'I see further, Sharp, than you bookmen do, in some matters. Boney'sdone for; that to me is quite plain, and earlier than I thoughtlikely; although I, of course, as well as every other man witha head instead of a turnip on his shoulders, knew such araw-head-and-bloody-bones as that must sooner or later come to thedogs. And as I also know what agricultural prices were _before_ thewar, I can calculate without the aid of vulgar fractions, which, bythe by, I never reached, what they'll be when it's over, and thethundering expenditure now going on is stopped. In two or three weeks, people generally will get a dim notion of all this; and I sell, therefore, whilst I can, at top prices. '

The shrewdness of the calculation struck me at once. 'You will takeanother farm when one can be had on easier terms than now, I suppose?'

'Yes; if I can manage it. And I _will_ manage it. Between ourselves, after all the old man's debts are paid, I shall only have about nineor ten hundred pounds to the good, even by selling at the presenttremendous rates; so it was time, you see, I pulled up, and rubbed thefog out of my eyes a bit. And, hark ye, Master Sharp!' he added, as werose and shook hands with each other--'I have now done _playing_ withthe world--it's a place of work and business; and I'll do my share ofit so effectually, that my children, if I have any, shall, if I donot, reach the class of landed gentry; and this you'll find, for allyour sneering, will come about all the more easily that neither theynor their father will be encumbered with much educational lumber. Good-by. '

I did not again see my old school-fellow till the change he hadpredicted had thoroughly come to pass. Farms were everywhere to let, and a general cry to parliament for aid rang through the land. Duttoncalled at the office upon business, accompanied by a young woman ofremarkable personal comeliness, but, as a very few sentences betrayed, little or no education in the conventional sense of the word. She wasthe daughter of a farmer, whom--it was no fault of hers--a change oftimes had not found in a better condition for weathering them. AnneMosely, in fact, was a thoroughly industrious, clever farm economist. The instant Dutton had secured an eligible farm, at his own price andconditions, he married her; and now, on the third day after thewedding, he had brought me the draft of lease for examination. 

'You are not afraid, then, ' I remarked, 'of taking a farm in these badtimes?'

'Not I--at a price. We mean to _rough_ it, Mr Sharp, ' he added gaily. 'And, let me tell you, that those who will stoop to do that--I mean, take their coats off, tuck up their sleeves, and fling appearances tothe winds--may, and will, if they understand their business, and havegot their heads screwed on right, do better here than in any of theuncleared countries they talk so much about. You know what I told youdown at Romford. Well, we'll manage that before our hair is gray, depend upon it, bad as the times may be--won't we, Nance?'

'We'll try, Jem, ' was the smiling response. 

They left the draft for examination. It was found to be correctlydrawn. Two or three days afterwards, the deeds were executed, andJames Dutton was placed in possession. The farm, a capital one, was inEssex. 

His hopes were fully realised as to money-making, at all events. Heand his wife rose early, sat up late, ate the bread of carefulness, and altogether displayed such persevering energy, that only about sixor seven years had passed before the Duttons were accounted a rich andprosperous family. They had one child only--a daughter. The mother, Mrs Dutton, died when this child was about twelve years of age; andAnne Dutton became more than ever the apple of her father's eye. Thebusiness of the farm went steadily on in its accustomed track; eachsucceeding year found James Dutton growing in wealth and importance;and his daughter in sparkling, catching comeliness--although certainlynot in the refinement of manner which gives a quickening life andgrace to personal symmetry and beauty. James Dutton remained firm inhis theory of the worthlessness of education beyond what, in a narrowacceptation of the term, was absolutely 'necessary;' and Anne Dutton, although now heiress to very considerable wealth, knew only how toread, write, spell, cast accounts, and superintend the home-businessof the farm. I saw a good deal of the Duttons about this time, mybrother-in-law, Elsworthy, and his wife having taken up their abodewithin about half a mile of James Dutton's dwelling-house; and Iventured once or twice to remonstrate with the prosperous farmer uponthe positive danger, with reference to his ambitious views, of not atleast so far cultivating the intellect and taste of so attractive amaiden as his daughter, that sympathy on her part with the rude, unlettered clowns, with whom she necessarily came so much in contact, should be impossible. He laughed my hints to scorn. 'It isidleness--idleness alone, ' he said, 'that puts love-fancies intogirls' heads. Novel-reading, jingling at a pianoforte--merely othernames for idleness--these are the parents of such follies. AnneDutton, as mistress of this establishment, has her time fully andusefully occupied; and when the time comes, not far distant now, toestablish her in marriage, she will wed into a family I wot of; andthe Romford prophecy of which you remind me will be realised, in greatpart at least. '

He found, too late, his error. He hastily entered the office onemorning, and although it was only five or six weeks since I had lastseen him, the change in his then florid, prideful features was sostriking and painful, as to cause me to fairly leap upon my feet withsurprise. 

'Good Heavens, Dutton!' I exclaimed, 'what is the matter? What hashappened?'

'Nothing has happened, Mr Sharp, ' he replied, 'but what you predicted, and which, had I not been the most conceited dolt in existence, I, too, must have foreseen. You know that good-looking, idle, and, Ifear, irreclaimable young fellow, George Hamblin?'

'I have seen him once or twice. Has he not brought his father to theverge of a workhouse by low dissipation and extravagance?'

'Yes. Well, he is an accepted suitor for Anne Dutton's hand. No wonderthat you start. She fancies herself hopelessly in love withhim----Nay, Sharp, hear me out. I have tried expostulation, threats, entreaties, locking her up; but it's useless. I shall kill the sillyfool if I persist, and I have at length consented to the marriage; forI cannot see her die. ' I began remonstrating upon the folly ofyielding consent to so ruinous a marriage, on account of a few tearsand hysterics, but Dutton stopped me peremptorily. 

'It is useless talking, ' he said. 'The die is cast; I have given myword. You would hardly recognise her, she is so altered. I did notknow before, ' added the strong, stern man, with trembling voice andglistening eyes, 'that she was so inextricably twined about myheart--my life!' It is difficult to estimate the bitterness of such adisappointment to a proud, aspiring man like Dutton. I pitied himsincerely, mistaken, if not blameworthy, as he had been. 

'I have only myself to blame, ' he presently resumed. 'A girl ofcultivated taste and mind could not have bestowed a second thought onGeorge Hamblin. But let's to business. I wish the marriage-settlement, and my will, to be so drawn, that every farthing received from meduring my life, and after my death, shall be hers, and hers only; andso strictly and entirely secured, that she shall be without power toyield control over the slightest portion of it, should she be sominded. ' I took down his instructions, and the necessary deeds weredrawn in accordance with them. When the day for signing arrived, thebridegroom-elect demurred at first to the stringency of the provisionsof the marriage-contract; but as upon this point Mr Dutton was foundto be inflexible, the handsome, illiterate clown--he was littlebetter--gave up his scruples, the more readily as a life of assuredidleness lay before him, from the virtual control he was sure to haveover his wife's income. These were the thoughts which passed acrosshis mind, I was quite sure, as taking the pen awkwardly in his hand, he affixed _his mark_ to the marriage-deed. I reddened with shame, andthe smothered groan which at the moment smote faintly on my ear, againbrokenly confessed the miserable folly of the father in not havingplaced his beautiful child beyond all possibility of mental contact orcommunion with such a person. The marriage was shortly afterwardssolemnised, but I did not wait to witness the ceremony. 

The husband's promised good-behaviour did not long endure; ere twomonths of wedded life were past, he had fallen again into his oldhabits; and the wife, bitterly repentant of her folly, was fain toconfess, that nothing but dread of her father's vengeance saved herfrom positive ill usage. It was altogether a wretched, unfortunateaffair; and the intelligence--sad in itself--which reached me about atwelvemonth after the marriage, that the young mother had died inchildbirth of her first-born, a girl, appeared to me rather a matterof rejoicing than of sorrow or regret. The shock to poor Dutton was, Iunderstood, overwhelming for a time, and fears were entertained forhis intellects. He recovered, however, and took charge of hisgrandchild, the father very willingly resigning the onerous burden. 

My brother-in-law left James Dutton's neighbourhood for a distant partof the country about this period, and I saw nothing of the bereavedfather for about five years, save only at two business interviews. Thebusiness upon which I had seen him, was the alteration of his will, bywhich all he might die possessed of was bequeathed to his darlingAnnie. His health, I was glad to find, was quite restored; andalthough now fifty years of age, the bright light of his young dayssparkled once more in his keen glance. His youth was, he said, renewedin little Annie. He could even bear to speak, though still withremorseful emotion, of his own lost child. 'No fear, Sharp, ' he said, 'that I make that terrible mistake again. Annie will fall in love, please God, with no unlettered, soulless booby! Her mind shall beelevated, beautiful, and pure, as her person--she is the image of hermother--promises to be charming and attractive. You must come and seeher. ' I promised to do so; and he went his way. At one of theseinterviews--the first it must have been--I made a chance inquiry forhis son-in-law, Hamblin. As the name passed my lips, a look of hateand rage flashed out of his burning eyes. I did not utter anotherword, nor did he; and we separated in silence. 

It was evening, and I was returning in a gig from a rather longjourney into the country, when I called, in redemption of my promise, upon James Dutton. Annie was really, I found, an engaging, pretty, blue-eyed, golden-haired child; and I was not so much surprised at hergrandfather's doting fondness--a fondness entirely reciprocated, itseemed, by the little girl. It struck me, albeit, that it was aperilous thing for a man of Dutton's vehement, fiery nature to stakeagain, as he evidently had done, his all of life and happiness uponone frail existence. An illustration of my thought or fear occurredjust after we had finished tea. A knock was heard at the outer-door, and presently a man's voice, in quarrelling, drunken remonstrance withthe servant who opened it. The same deadly scowl I had seen sweep overDutton's countenance upon the mention of Hamblin's name, again gleameddarkly there; and finding, after a moment or two, that the intruderwould not be denied, the master of the house gently removed Annie fromhis knee, and strode out of the room. 

'Follow grandpapa, ' whispered Mrs Rivers, a highly respectable widowof about forty years of age, whom Mr Dutton had engaged at a highsalary to superintend Annie's education. The child went out, and MrsRivers, addressing me, said in a low voice: 'Her presence will preventviolence; but it is a sad affair. ' She then informed me that Hamblin, to whom Mr Dutton allowed a hundred a year, having become aware of thegrandfather's extreme fondness for Annie, systematically worked thatknowledge for his own sordid ends, and preluded every fresh attackupon Mr Dutton's purse by a threat to reclaim the child. 'It is notthe money, ' remarked Mrs Rivers in conclusion, 'that Mr Dutton caresso much for, but the thought that he holds Annie by the sufferance ofthat wretched man, goads him at times almost to insanity. '

'Would not the fellow waive his claim for a settled increase of hisannuity?'

'No; that has been offered to the extent of three hundred a year; butHamblin refuses, partly from the pleasure of keeping such a man as MrDutton in his power, partly because he knows that the last shillingwould be parted with rather than the child. It is a very unfortunatebusiness, and I often fear will terminate badly. ' The loud butindistinct wrangling without ceased after awhile, and I heard a keyturn stiffly in a lock. 'The usual conclusion of these scenes, ' saidMrs Rivers. 'Another draft upon his strong-box will purchase Mr Duttona respite as long as the money lasts. ' I could hardly look at JamesDutton when he re-entered the room. There was that in his countenancewhich I do not like to read in the faces of my friends. He was silentfor several minutes; at last he said quickly, sternly: 'Is there noinstrument, Mr Sharp, in all the enginery of law, that can defeat aworthless villain's legal claim to his child?'

'None; except, perhaps, a commission of lunacy, or'----

'Tush! tush!' interrupted Dutton; 'the fellow has no wits to lose. That being so---- But let us talk of something else. ' We did so, buton his part very incoherently, and I soon bade him good-night. 

This was December, and it was in February the following year thatDutton again called at our place of business. There was a strange, stern, iron meaning in his face. 'I am in a great hurry, ' he said, 'and I have only called to say, that I shall be glad if you will runover to the farm to-morrow on a matter of business. You have seen, perhaps, in the paper, that my dwelling-house took fire the nightbefore last. You have not? Well, it is upon that I would consult you. Will you come?' I agreed to do so, and he withdrew. 

The fire had not, I found, done much injury. It had commenced in akind of miscellaneous store-room; but the origin of the fire appearedto me, as it did to the police-officers that had been summoned, perfectly unaccountable. 'Had it not been discovered in time, andextinguished, ' I observed to Mrs Rivers, 'you would all have beenburned in your beds. '

'Why, no, ' replied that lady, with some strangeness of manner. 'On thenight of the fire, Annie and I slept at Mr Elsworthy's' (I haveomitted to notice, that my brother-in-law and family had returned totheir old residence), 'and Mr Dutton remained in London, whither hehad gone to see the play. '

'But the servants might have perished?'

'No. A whim, apparently, has lately seized Mr Dutton, that no servantor labourer shall sleep under the same roof with himself; and thosenew outhouses, where their bedrooms are placed are, you see, completely detached, and are indeed, as regards this dwelling, madefire-proof. '

At this moment Mr Dutton appeared, and interrupted our conversation. He took me aside. 'Well, ' he said, 'to what conclusion have you come?The work of an incendiary, is it not? Somebody, too, that knows I amnot insured'----

'Not insured!'

'No; not for this dwelling-house. I did not renew the policy somemonths ago. '

'Then, ' I jestingly remarked, 'you, at all events, are safe from anyaccusation of having set fire to your premises with the intent todefraud the insurers. '

'To be sure--to be sure, I am, ' he rejoined with quick earnestness, asif taking my remark seriously. 'That is quite certain. Some one, I ampretty sure it must be, ' he presently added, 'that owes me agrudge--with whom I have quarrelled, eh?'

'It may be so, certainly. '

'It _must_ be so. And what, Mr Sharp, is the highest penalty for thecrime of incendiarism?'

'By the recent change in the law, transportation only; unless, indeed, loss of human life occur in consequence of the felonious act; in whichcase, the English law construes the offence to be wilful murder, although the incendiary may not have intended the death or injury ofany person. '

'I see. But here there could have been no loss of life. '

'There might have been, had not you, Mrs Rivers, and Annie, chanced tosleep out of the house. '

'True--true--a diabolical villain no doubt. But we'll ferret him outyet. You are a keen hand, Mr Sharp, and will assist, I know. Yes, yes--it's some fellow that hates me--that I perhaps hate andloathe'--he added with sudden gnashing fierceness, and striking hishand with furious violence on the table--'as I do a spotted toad!'

I hardly recognised James Dutton in this fitful, disjointed talk, andas there was really nothing to be done or to be inquired into, I soonwent away. 

'Only one week's interval, ' I hastily remarked to Mr Flint one morningafter glancing at the newspaper, 'and another fire at Dutton'sfarmhouse!'

'The deuce! He is in the luck of it apparently, ' replied Flint, without looking up from his employment. My partner knew Dutton only bysight. 

The following morning, I received a note from Mrs Rivers. She wishedto see me immediately on a matter of great importance. I hastened toMr Dutton's, and found, on arriving there, that George Hamblin was incustody, and undergoing an examination, at no great distance off, before two county magistrates, on the charge of having fired MrDutton's premises. The chief evidence was, that Hamblin had been seenlurking about the place just before the flames broke out, and thatnear the window where an incendiary might have entered there werefound portions of several lucifer-matches, of a particular make, andcorresponding to a number found in Hamblin's bedroom. To this Hamblinreplied, that he had come to the house by Mr Dutton's invitation, butfound nobody there. This, however, was vehemently denied by Mr Dutton. He had made no appointment with Hamblin to meet at his, Dutton's, house. How should he, purposing as he did to be in London at the time?With respect to the lucifer-matches, Hamblin said he had purchasedthem of a mendicant, and that Mr Dutton saw him do so. This also wasdenied. It was further proved, that Hamblin, when in drink, had oftensaid he would ruin Dutton before he died. Finally, the magistrates, though with some hesitation, decided that there was hardly sufficientevidence to warrant them in committing the prisoner for trial, and hewas discharged, much to the rage and indignation of the prosecutor. 

Subsequently, Mrs Rivers and I had a long private conference. She andthe child had again slept at Elsworthy's on the night of the fire, andDutton in London. 'His excuse is, ' said Mrs Rivers, 'that he cannotpermit us to sleep here unprotected by his presence. ' We both arrivedat the same conclusion, and at last agreed upon what should be done, attempted rather, and that without delay. 

Just before taking leave of Mr Dutton, who was in an exceedinglyexcited state, I said: 'By the by, Dutton, you have promised to dinewith me on some early day. Let it be next Tuesday. I shall have one ortwo bachelor friends, and we can give you a shake-down for the night. '

'Next Tuesday?' said he quickly. 'At what hour do you dine?'

'At six. Not a half-moment later. '

'Good! I will be with you. ' We then shook hands, and parted. 

The dinner would have been without interest to me, had not a notepreviously arrived from Mrs Rivers, stating that she and Annie wereagain to sleep that night at Elsworthy's. This promised results. 

James Dutton, who rode into town, was punctual, and, as always oflate, flurried, excited, nervous--not, in fact, it appeared to meprecisely in his right mind. The dinner passed off as dinners usuallydo, and the after-proceedings went on very comfortably till abouthalf-past nine o'clock, when Dutton's perturbation, increased perhapsby the considerable quantity of wine he had swallowed, not drunk, became, it was apparent to everybody, almost uncontrollable. Herose--purposeless it seemed--sat down again--drew out his watch almostevery minute, and answered remarks addressed to him in the wildestmanner. The decisive moment was, I saw, arrived, and at a gesture ofmine, Elsworthy, who was in my confidence, addressed Dutton. 'By theway, Dutton, about Mrs Rivers and Annie. I forgot to tell you of itbefore. '

The restless man was on his feet in an instant, and glaring with fieryeagerness at the speaker. 

'What! what!' he cried with explosive quickness--'what about Annie?Death and fury!--speak! will you?'

'Don't alarm yourself, my good fellow. It's nothing of consequence. You brought Annie and her governess, about an hour before I started, to sleep at our house'----

'Yes--yes, ' gasped Dutton, white as death, and every fibre of his bodyshaking with terrible dread. 'Yes--well, well, go on. Thunder andlightning! out with it, will you?'

'Unfortunately, two female cousins arrived soon after you went away, and I was obliged to escort Annie and Mrs Rivers home again. ' A wildshriek--yell is perhaps the more appropriate expression--burst fromthe conscience and fear-stricken man. Another instant, and he had tornhis watch from the fob, glanced at it with dilated eyes, dashed it onthe table, and was rushing madly towards the door, vainly withstood byElsworthy, who feared we had gone too far. 

'Out of the way!' screamed the madman. 'Let go, or I'll dash you toatoms!' Suiting the action to the threat, he hurled my brother-in-lawagainst the wall with stunning force, and rushed on, shoutingincoherently: 'My horse! There is time yet! Tom Edwards, my horse!'

Tom Edwards was luckily at hand, and although mightily surprised atthe sudden uproar, which he attributed to Mr Dutton being in drink, mechanically assisted to saddle, bridle, and bring out the roan mare;and before I could reach the stables, Dutton's foot was in thestirrup. I shouted 'Stop' as loudly as I could, but the excitedhorseman did not heed, perhaps not hear me: and away he went, at atremendous speed, hatless, and his long gray-tinted hair streaming inthe wind. It was absolutely necessary to follow. I therefore directedElsworthy's horse, a much swifter and more peaceful animal thanDutton's, to be brought out; and as soon as I got into the highcountry road, I too dashed along at a rate much too headlong to bealtogether pleasant. The evening was clear and bright, and I now andthen caught a distant sight of Dutton, who was going at a frantic paceacross the country, and putting his horse at leaps that no man in hissenses would have attempted. I kept the high-road, and we had thusridden about half an hour perhaps, when a bright flame about a miledistant, as the crow flies, shot suddenly forth, strongly relievedagainst a mass of dark wood just beyond it. I knew it to be Dutton'shouse, even without the confirmation given by the frenzied shout whichat the same moment arose on my left hand. It was from Dutton. Hishorse had been _staked_, in an effort to clear a high fence, and hewas hurrying desperately along on foot. I tried to make him hear me, or to reach him, but found I could do neither: his own wild cries andimprecations drowned my voice, and there were impassable fencesbetween the high-road and the fields across which he madly hasted. 

The flames were swift this time, and defied the efforts of theservants and husbandmen who had come to the rescue, to stay, much lessto quell them. Eagerly as I rode, Dutton arrived before the blazingpile at nearly the same moment as myself, and even as he fiercelystruggled with two or three men, who strove by main force to preventhim from rushing into the flames, only to meet with certain death, theroof and floors of the building fell in with a sudden crash. Hebelieved that all was over with the child, and again hurling forththe wild despairing cry I had twice before heard that evening, hefell down, as if smitten by lightning, upon the hard frosty road. 

It was many days ere the unhappy, sinful man recovered his senses, many weeks before he was restored to his accustomed health. Verycautiously had the intelligence been communicated to him, that Anniehad not met the terrible fate, the image of which had incessantlypursued him through his fevered dreams. He was a deeply grateful, and, I believe, a penitent and altogether changed man. He purchased, through my agency, a valuable farm in a distant county, in order to beout of the way, not only of Hamblin, on whom he settled two hundred ayear, but of others, myself included, who knew or suspected him of thefoul intention he had conceived against his son-in-law, and which, butfor Mrs Rivers, would, on the last occasion, have been in allprobability successful, so cunningly had the evidence of circumstancesbeen devised. 'I have been, ' said James Dutton to me at the lastinterview I had with him, 'all my life an overweening self-confidentfool. At Romford, I boasted to you that my children should allythemselves with the landed gentry of the country, and see the result!The future, please God, shall find me in my duty--mindful only ofthat, and content, whilst so acting, with whatever shall befall me ormine. '

Dutton continues to prosper in the world; Hamblin died several yearsago of delirium tremens; and Annie, I hear, _will_ in all probabilitymarry into the squirearchy of the country. All this is not perhapswhat is called poetical justice, but my experience has been with theactual, not the ideal world. 

MEMORIALS OF THE DODO. 

Among the thousand-and-one marvels displayed in the far-famed Palaceof Crystal during part of the last ever-memorable year, not the leastpuzzling to the majority of visitors, was an object resembling astuffed bird more than any other production of art or nature, but veryunlike any bird previously observed by the wondering spectators ineither museum or menagerie, or even on the painted panels thatemblazon the crude and extravagant conceptions of mediæval heraldry. In the catalogue, the really ingenious piece of workmanship wasentitled a 'Life-size model of the dodo'--a name, our readers know, appertaining to a now extinct bird, the very existence of which was atone time denied by shrewd men and good naturalists. Perhaps thefollowing history of this curious creature, from its first to its lastappearance before the eyes of men, will not be considered devoid ofinterest. 

In the year 1598, a division of a Dutch squadron on its way to Bantam, rediscovered what was then called the island of Cerne; and a boat'screw having been sent ashore to reconnoitre, returned with nine greatbirds, a number of smaller ones, and the welcome intelligence of asecure and convenient harbour. Those nine great birds were the firstof the doomed dodo race that ever came in contact with their destineddestroyer, man; at least, this is undoubtedly their first appearanceon record. The exact date of such an event is note-worthy: it occurredon the 18th of May. De Warwijk, the Dutch admiral, brought his shipsinto the harbour; and finding no traces of man--the birds being sounused to his presence, that they suffered themselves to be caught byhand--took formal possession of the island, changing its name toMauritius, in honour of Prince Maurice, then Stadtholder of Holland. Immense tortoises, delicious fish, thousands of turtledoves, and dodos_à discrétion_, regaled the half-starved and scurvy-stricken seamen. The name dodo, however, had not then been given. Warwick's men, revelling in the luxuries of this virgin isle, became fastidious. Finding, after a hearty meal on the newly-discovered bird, that itsextreme fatness disagreed with them, they gave it the name of_walghvogel_[1]--the nausea-causing bird. With our own experience--andthat is somewhat extensive--of sailors in general, and Dutch ones inparticular, we must infer that these dodos were very, very fat, indeed. A narrative of this voyage[2] was published in Dutch atAmsterdam in 1601, went through many editions, and has been translatedinto various languages. The work contains an engraving, representingthe landing-place at the Mauritius; the carpenters, coopers, andblacksmiths, busy at work; the preacher and his orderly congregation;while tortoises, a dodo, and other animals, wander about, heedless ofthe presence of man. This is the first engraving of the dodo, and, judging from more pictures of greater pretension, by no means a badlikeness; indeed, the whole sketch bears strong evidence of its havingbeen taken from nature. In the letter-press, the walghvogel isdescribed as a large bird, the size of a swan, with a huge headfurnished with a kind of hood; and in lieu of wings, having three orfour small pen-feathers, the tail consisting of four or five smallcurled feathers of a gray colour. 

De Bry, an engraver of considerable eminence, and a bookseller atFrankfort-on-the-Maine, being in England in 1587, was induced by ourfamous compiler, Hakluyt, to commence the publication of anillustrated series of voyages, which, after his death, was continuedby his sons. Amongst bibliographers, this compilation is well known asthe _Collection of Great and Little Voyages_. The volumes comprisingthe 'little voyages, ' relating exclusively to the East, are entitled_Indiæ Orientalis_; they were issued in parts, and their period ofpublication extended from 1598 to 1624. The walghvogel is merelymentioned, but an engraving gives a fanciful representation of thedoings of another Dutch crew on the island. Two gallants, elaboratelyattired, are represented riding on a tortoise; while ten others, seated in a tortoise's shell, are holding a grand symposium. Threebirds are depicted in this plate, which the letter-press says arewalghvogels, but which our eyes tell us are cassowaries, then termedemeus. It is evident, then, that De Bry had not, at that time, seen asketch or description of the dodo: if he had, he would not thus haveconfounded it with the cassowary. Moreover, in the letter-pressexplanatory of the engraving, it is stated that a living walghvogelhad been brought to Holland, which clearly proves that he haderroneously confounded the two birds; for a living cassowary, even atthat early date, had actually been transported thither. But thoughthere can be little doubt, that one or more living dodos weresubsequently brought to Europe, it is certain that such an event didnot take place till after L'Ecluse wrote, in 1605. About the same timethat De Bry published this _fourth_ part of _Indiæ Orientalis_, theDutch work appeared containing the account of the voyages of the wholeeight ships; and then De Bry, in his _fifth_ part, which came outlater in the same year, was enabled to give a correct representationof the dodo, and a complete account of the voyages of the wholesquadron. We have been more precise on this part of our subject thanmight seem necessary; but by being so, we have smoothed over aninequality that has been a stumbling-block to almost all previouswriters on the dodo. 

L'Ecluse, professor of botany at Leyden, one of the greatestnaturalists of his age, published his _Exoticorum_ in 1605. In it hegives an engraved likeness and description of the dodo, which heobtained from persons who had sailed in De Warwijk's fleet, statingthat he had himself seen only the leg of the bird--a sure proof thatno live specimen had, at that time, been brought to Holland. 

Passing over the visits to the isles of four old Dutch navigators, whoall describe the dodo under different names, we come to the quaint oldtraveller, Sir Thomas Herbert, who touched at the Mauritius in 1627. In his _Relation of some Yeare's Travaile_, he thus describes thebird:--'The dodo; a bird the Dutch call walghvogel or dod eersen; herbody is round and fat, which occasions the slow pace, or that hercorpulencie; and so great as few of them weigh less than fifty pound:better to the eye than stomack: greasy appetites may perhaps commendthem, but to the indifferently curious in nourishment, proveoffensive. Let's take her picture: her visage darts forth melancholy, as if sensible of Nature's injurie in framing so great and massie abody to be directed by such small and complementall wings, as areunable to hoise her from the ground; serving only to prove her a bird, which otherwise might be doubted of. Her head is variously drest, theone-half hooded with downy blackish feathers; the other perfectlynaked, of a whitish hue, as if a transparent lawne had covered it. Herbill is very howked, and bends downwards; the thrill orbreathing-place is in the midst of it, from which part to the end thecolour is a light green mixed with a pale yellowe; her eyes be roundand small, and bright as diamonds; her clothing is of finest downe, such as you see on goslins. Her trayne is (like a China beard) ofthree or four short feathers; her legs thick, black, and strong; hertallons or pounces sharp; her stomach fiery hot, so as she easily candigest stones. '

As a 'China beard' consists of only a few hairs under the chin, theabove simile is correct; but in the French edition of these travels, the translator erroneously rendered the words _oiseau de Chine_, Chinese bird, and subsequently, a celebrated French savant raised amagnificent hypothetical edifice on the basis of the mistranslation. 

Herbert was the first who used the word dodo as the name of this bird, stating it to be derived from the Portuguese _doudo_, a simpleton; butas he is generally somewhat wild and vague in his etymologies, and aswe have no intelligence whatever of the dodo through the Portuguese, we may safely conclude that the name is of Dutch derivation. In theold black-letter Dutch and English dictionary now before us, we findthe word _dodoor_ translated a humdrum, which, Dr Johnson tells us, means 'a stupid person. ' Now, if the name be derived from the bird'ssimplicity, the Dutch _dodoor_ is as near the mark as the Portuguese_doudo_. But it may be that the name was given on account of thepeculiar form of the bird, and not in illusion to its mental capacity;and, consequently, even _dodoor_ may not be the true origin. We morethan suspect that it is really derived from a vulgar, compoundepithet, used by Dutch seamen to denote an awkward, clumsily-formed, inactive person. This inquiry, however, is beyond our humble powers, and should be prosecuted by some learned professor--such, forinstance, as Jonathan Oldbuck's friend, Dr Heavysterne, of the LowCountries. 

We next hear of the dodo, in a curiously indirect manner, through anuneducated French adventurer named Cauche, who passed several years inMadagascar and the adjacent islands. His narrative, edited by oneMorissot, an _avocat_, was published in 1651, and created greatinterest in France. In 1638, he was at the Mauritius, and theresaw a bird which he describes under the name of the bird ofNazareth--_oiseau de Nazaret_--so termed, as he states, from its beingfound on the island of Nazareth, which lies to the northward of theMauritius. The description is an accurate one of the dodo, with theexception of two particulars--one, as to the number and position ofthe toes; the other, as to the creature having no tongue--a prevalentopinion then amongst the vulgar with respect to several other birds. Though there is no record of this bird of Nazareth having been seen byany one but Cauche, yet, ever since, his phantom-like picture hasskulked in the obscurity, adding to the mystery which enveloped thedodo. Time, however, has now exorcised it. There never was a bird ofNazareth. What Cauche saw was undoubtedly a dodo; and his errors ofdescription are what any person, not a naturalist, might commit. _Oiseau de Nazaret_ is simply a corruption of _oiseau de nausée_--theoriginal French name of the dodo, a literal translation of theoriginal Dutch walghvogel. It is a curious coincidence, that as thebird of Nazareth has been found in books only, so the island ofNazareth has been found only on paper. At first, it appeared quite arespectable island; as maritime discovery progressed, it degeneratedto a reef, and from that to a shoal; till at last, expunged from themore correct charts of modern hydrographers, it no longer can boast ofa local habitation or a name. 

About the same time that Cauche was at the Mauritius, the citizens ofLondon were gratified by the sight of a living dodo. Of this veryinteresting event, there is only one solitary record at present known, but it is an authentic one. In a manuscript commentary on Sir ThomasBrowne's _Vulgar Errors_--preserved in the British Museum--written bySir Hamon L'Estrange, father of the more celebrated Sir Roger, thereoccurs the following passage:--

'About 1638, as I walked London streets, I [3] the picture of astrange fowle hung out upon a cloth [3]vas, and myselfe, with one ortwo more then in company, went in to see it. It was kept in a chamber, and was somewhat bigger than the largest turkey-cock, and so leggedand footed, but stouter and thicker, and of a more erect shape, coloured before like the breast of a young cock-fesan, and on the backof a dunne or deare colour. The keeper called it a dodo; and in theend of a chymney in the chamber there lay a heap of largepebble-stones, whereof hee gave it many in our sight, some as big asnutmegs; and the keeper told us shee eats them (conducing todigestion); and though I remember not how farr the keeper wasquestioned therein, yet I am confident that afterwards she cast themall againe. '

We next, in order of time, come to the famous Tradescant dodo. When orwhere the Tradescants procured it, is unknown; it is first mentionedin the catalogue of their museum, published by the survivingTradescant, in 1656, as 'a dodar from the island Mauritius; it is notable to flie, being so big. ' We shall presently have occasion todetail the subsequent history of this interesting specimen. 

The last notice of the dodo's existence is found in a manuscriptjournal--in the Sloane Collection--kept by a 'Mr Ben. Harry, ' who waschief officer of the English ship _Berkley Castle_, on a voyage to andfrom India in 1679. It appears that, the ship becoming leaky on theirreturn voyage, they 'made for the Marushes, ' where they repaired thevessel, and landed and dried the cargo. At this point of theirproceedings, we shall let this intelligent mariner speak for himself:'Now, having a little respitt, I will make a little description of theisland, ffirst of its producks, then of its parts: ffirst, of allwinged and feathered ffowle, the less passant are dodos, whose ffleshis very hard. The Dutch, pleading a property in this island because oftheir settlement, have made us pay for goates one penny per pound. '

Though the Dutch did not form a regular settlement on the Mauritiustill 1644, yet their vessels and those of other nations frequentlycalled for supplies; and many persons--runaway seamen andothers--lived on the island. It is not surprising that the awkward, slow-paced dodo, incapable of flight, and whose nest, as we are toldby Cauche, never contained more than one egg, became totally extinctsoon after coming into contact with man. Nor would man alone bedirectly the dodo's destroyer; his immediate followers, the cat, hog, and dog, must have been fatal neighbours to its young. Leguat, agentleman of education, spent several months on the Mauritius in 1693, but makes no mention of the dodo. He says: 'This island was formerlyfull of birds, but now they are becoming very scarce;' and furtheradds: 'Here are pigs of the China breed. These beasts do a great dealof damage to the inhabitants, by devouring all the young animals theycan catch. ' Less than a century, then, sufficed to extirpate the dodo. It was first seen in 1598--it was last noticed in 1679; and as Leguat, in 1693, does not mention it, we may conclude that it became extinctat some period between the last two dates. In 1712, the Dutchevacuated the Mauritius, and three years afterwards the French tookpossession, naming it l'Ile de France. With this change of population, the very tradition of the dodo's existence on that island wascompletely lost. 

The relics of the dodo, still left to admiring naturalists, are few, but, in a scientific view, very precious. They consist in all of ahead and leg in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, a leg in the BritishMuseum, and a head in the Royal Museum (_Kunst-Kammer_) at Copenhagen. The head and leg at Oxford are the sole remains of Tradescant's dodo. After the death of the last of that family, Ashmole obtainedpossession of their museum, which he subsequently presented to theUniversity of Oxford. This dodo can be clearly traced to have been inthe Ashmolean Museum until the year 1755, when, having been sufferedto fall into decay, it was, by the order of the vice-chancellor of theuniversity, and a majority of the visitors, condemned to be burned!For a long time after, the dodo was forgotten, or the fact of its oncehaving existed was treated as a mere myth, till Dr Shaw, in 1793, rummaging among the refuse of the museum, rediscovered this identicalhead and leg. The question arises: How were these relics preserved?Did some university magnate desire their retention from the flames?Did some conservative curator slily conceal them before the fatalmandate was executed? No! Even this paltry palliation must be refusedto the learned Vandals. It is to Ashmole himself that science isindebted for these remains of the last specimen of a whole species. That litigious old Chancery lawyer, when he presented his museum toOxford, did so under certain restrictions, which he drew up with hisown hands, and which the university was bound to obey. One of theserules decrees, that any specimen in a bad condition should not betotally destroyed; but any hard parts, such as the head, horns, orfeet, should be put away in a closet. This head is still in tolerablepreservation. The singular form of the beak and nostrils, the bareskin of the face, combined with the partly feathered head, which theold writers compared to a hood, are still strikingly apparent. Of thehistory of the leg in the British Museum, little is known. It formerlybelonged to the Royal Society, and is in all probability the same thatis mentioned in the catalogue of a museum that was offered for sale inLondon by a person named Hubert, in 1664. It is certain that the legat Oxford, and that at London, did not belong to the same bird; forthough they are right and left, and their perfect agreement incharacter proves their identity of species, yet one is nearly an inchlonger than the other. The head at Copenhagen was described byOlearius as early as 1666, in the catalogue of the museum of the Dukeof Schleswig at Gottorf. In 1720, that museum was removed toCopenhagen, but it was not till within the last few years, when thehistory of the dodo excited so strongly the attention of naturalists, that this head was successfully sought for, and disinterred from amass of rubbish, by Dr Reinhardt. 

Many have been the conflicting opinions among naturalists with respectto the class of birds the dodo should be placed in. Space will notpermit us to enter into these discussions. Suffice it to say, it isgenerally agreed now that the dodo was a gigantic, short-winged, fruit-eating pigeon. The English naturalist, Mr Strickland, who hasdevoted an amazing amount of labour and research to the elucidation ofthis mysterious question, and Dr Reinhardt of Copenhagen, were thefirst who referred the dodo to the pigeon tribe, having arrived almostsimultaneously, by two distinct chains of reasoning, at the sameconclusion; and their opinion is corroborated by a dissection that waslately made of part of the head at Oxford. 

There can be no doubt that the dodo was one of those instances, wellknown to naturalists, of a species, or part of a species, remainingpermanently in an undeveloped state. As the Greenland whale neveracquires teeth, but remains a suckling all its life; as the proteus ofthe Carniolian caverns, and the axolotl of the Mexican lakes, neverattain a higher form than that of the tadpole; so the dodo may bedescribed as a permanent nestling covered with down, and possessingonly the rudiments of tail and wings. Nor are we to consider suchorganisations as imperfect. Evidently intended for peculiar situationsand habits of life, they are powerful evidences of the designdisplayed in the works of an All-wise Creator. Wandering about in theforests of the Mauritius, where, previous to the advent of man, it hadnot a single enemy, the dodo, revelling in the perpetual luxuriance ofa tropical climate, subsisted on the nuts that fell from thesurrounding trees. Its powerful bill enabled it to break, and itscapacious, stone-supplied gizzard to digest, the hardest shells andkernels; and thus a kind of frugivorous vulture, it cleared away thedecaying vegetable matter. In no other place than an island, uninhabited by man or any other animal of prey, could the helplessdodo have existed. Some fancy it may yet be found in Madagascar. Vainidea! Its carnivorous enemies among the lower animals, would have cutshort the existence of the dodo, even if man had never planted hisconquering footsteps upon that island. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Walgen_, to nauseate; _vogel_, a bird. 

[2] _Waerachtigh Verhael van de Schipvaert op Ost-Indien, Ghedaen byde Acht Schepen in den Jare 1598. _

[3] A hole is here burned in the manuscript, as if by the ash of atobacco-pipe. At the first hiatus, the word wanting is, without doubt, _saw_; and at the second, the letters, _of can_. 

MONOPOLIES. 

In the High Street of Edinburgh, not many doors further up than thepremises of the publishers of this Journal, there is a curiousmemorial of an old and now generally abolished economic grievance. Itis a portrait of a certain Dr Patrick Anderson, a physician of thereign of Charles I. It is an old portrait, or rather therepresentative of an old portrait, since it has necessarily beenrepainted from time to time, the atmosphere of Scotland not beingfavourable to the preservation of works of art in the open air. Itserves as the sign of an ancient shop, where for generation aftergeneration has been sold the medicine known as Andersen's Pills. Whatrenders the portrait and the establishment with which it is connectedso interesting to our present purpose is, that there is still anexisting patent for the making and selling of Andersen's Pills. Inwhose hands it may now be, we are not aware; but we know that, tenyears ago, the right of succession to this patent was the subject of akeenly-contested litigation. The question of course was--who wasentitled to hold it, as representative of the physician of the reignof Charles I. ? The event is suggestive of the effects that would arisefrom extending patents and copyrights over a great series of years, orto perpetuity, as some have considered desirable. If we suppose thepills to be a very great blessing, is not every human being as wellentitled, in justice and humanity, to have the benefit of them, asthose who are fighting for the succession? What have they ever done todeserve a monopoly? If there were a perpetual copyright, who at thepresent day would be the representatives of Shakspeare or Milton; andwhat right would they have to reap great rewards from the riches withwhich the illustrious dead desired to endow all mankind? The inventorsand authors themselves, it is true, deserve reward; and they obtain itin the shape of the limited monopoly. But the indefinite or very longcontinuance of this would only levy a tax to enrich those who haveperformed no service, and would fill the country with endlesslitigation. To return, however, to our special subject. 

It may be a new thing to some of our readers, to hear of a patent morethan two hundred years old. The cause of the anomaly is, that thisexclusive privilege was granted before the present patent-law wasextended to Scotland by the Union. Anderson called the pills _GranaAngelica_. He published an account of their astonishing virtues in alittle Latin essay, which bears date 1635; and as it is believed thatthere are not more than three copies of this in existence, it is worthmore than its weight in gold. He did not profess to be the inventor ordiscoverer of the medicine, but stated that he had found it in use atVenice. 

Small as was thus the service for which Anderson and his posteritywere endowed with a perpetual monopoly in these pills, it would havebeen well for the Stuart dynasty of kings if all monopolies granted bythem had been as well deserved and as innocent. On the matter ofmonopolies, our ancestors had a hard struggle, and they acquittedthemselves like men of sagacity and courage. The word monopoly isderived from the Greek. It means, sole-selling, and expresses itselfat once. It is almost unnecessary at the present day to announce thelaw of political economy, that wherever a small number of individualsacquire the exclusive privilege of selling any commodity, orundertaking any particular kind of service, the public will be illserved. The price demanded will be high, and the commodity or the workwill be bad in proportion. Thus much, indeed, of political economy ourancestors of the reign of King James knew. But it must be admitted, that they strangely confounded it with a totally differentmatter--with that forestalling of which we lately gave an account. Thedifference is, that in the one case there is the right to buy and sellas much of a commodity, or as little of it, as you please; and, in theother, the right to be the sole seller of the commodity. It is asgreat as the difference between freedom and slavery. No man can everobtain a monopoly through money, unless it be by underselling allothers; and that is a form in which it need not be grudged. Howeverwide may be the field occupied by the forestaller, he cannot preventothers from competing with him, if he sell so dear that they canundersell him. The effect of an enforced monopoly is to drivecompetitors away, and give the monopolist the whole market on his ownterms. 

Many governments raise a revenue by granting monopolies. They levy alarge sum from the individuals to whom they concede the privilege ofselling or making certain articles. It need hardly be said, that it isa very costly revenue, causing much more loss to the people than theamount it brings to the public purse; but it is a tempting resource, as it costs no trouble, and does not at least immediately bring thegovernment to issue with the country. Queen Elizabeth did not overlookthe convenience of this source of revenue. In fact, she pushed thesystem of monopolies very far, and nearly endangered the stability ofher power. But she was a very wise ruler, and always stopped short atthe point of endurance. Hallam gives the following animated account ofa parliamentary contest in 1601. When we reflect on the departedcorn-laws, the allusion to bread is certainly curious. 

'The grievance of monopolies had gone on continually increasing;scarce any article was exempt from these oppressive patents. When alist of them was read over in the House, a member exclaimed: "Is notbread among the number?" The House seemed amazed. "Nay, " said he, "ifno remedy is found for them, bread will be there before the nextparliament. " Every tongue seemed now unloosed, each as if emulouslydescanting on the injuries of the place he represented. It was vainfor courtiers to withstand this torrent. Raleigh, no small gainerhimself by some monopolies, after making what excuse he could, offeredto give them up. Robert Cecil, the secretary, and Bacon, talked loudlyof the prerogative, and endeavoured at least to persuade the House, that it would be fitter to proceed by petition to the queen than by abill; but it was properly answered, that nothing had been gained bypetitioning in the last parliament. After four days of eager debate, and more heat than had ever been witnessed, this ferment was suddenlyappeased by one of those well-timed concessions by which skilfulprinces spare themselves the mortification of being overcome. Elizabeth sent down a message, that she would revoke all grants thatshould be found injurious by fair trial at law; and Cecil rendered thesomewhat ambiguous generality of this expression more satisfactory byan assurance, that the existing patents should be repealed, and nomore be granted. '

The speeches of the members are a very favourable specimen of theparliamentary oratory of Queen Elizabeth's reign, as may be seen fromthe following delivered by Mr Martin. He is no philosopher, it will beobserved, in political economy, but speaks from the actual grievanceswitnessed by him. 'I speak for a town that grieves and pines--for acountry that groaneth and languisheth under the burden of monstrousand unconscionable substitutes to the monopolitans [meaningsub-monopolists, who paid so much for enjoying the monopoly in acertain district] of starch, tin, fish, cloth, oil, vinegar, salt, andI know not what--nay, what not? The principal commodities both of mytown and country are engrossed into the hands of those blood-suckersof the commonwealth. If a body, Mr Speaker, being let blood, be leftstill languishing without any remedy, how can the good estate of thatbody long remain? Such is the state of my town and country. Thetraffic is taken away. The inward and private commodities are takenaway, and dare not be used without the licence of these monopolitans. If these blood-suckers be still let alone to suck up the best andprincipal commodities which the earth hath given us, what shall becomeof us from whom the fruits of our own soil and the commodities of ourown labour--which, with the sweat of our brows, even up to the kneesin mire and dirt, we have laboured for--shall be taken by warrant ofsupreme authority which the poor subjects dare not gainsay?' Anothermember, Sir Andrew Hobby, on the opposite side, started up, and said, 'that betwixt Michaelmas and St Andrews tide, where salt before thepatent was wont to be sold for 16d. A bushel, it is now sold for 14d. Or 15d. A bushel. '[4]

The Stuart monarchs were not, as the world too well knows, so wise asQueen Elizabeth. King James found the granting of monopolies a veryconvenient way of making a revenue. It saved him from coming incontact with a discontented parliament; and whatever heartburnings itmight create, did not immediately affect his own royal comfort. Accordingly, he granted a number of monopolies both of necessaries andluxuries. This created a system of the grossest oppression; since thegreat monopolists not only made as much as they could at the expenseof the people, but sold portions of their monopolies to grasping, rapacious underlings, who conveyed the grievance into every corner ofthe land. These people became a hated and oppressive class, like thefarmers of the revenue in France. According to a well-known anecdote, Voltaire, when in a company, each member of which had to tell sometragic story, was called upon in his turn. He said: 'There was once afarmer-general--you know the rest!' The same might have been said ofthe monopolists in the time of King James. One of them, indeed, hasbecome in a manner illustrious in literature, by standing for thecharacter of Sir Giles Overreach in the play of _A New Way to Pay OldDebts_. His prototype was Sir Giles Mompesson, a person whoseoppressions created so much indignation, that parliament at lastresolved to impeach him. In the proceedings, it was stated that SirGiles, for the purpose of effectually carrying out his patent ofmonopoly, held the power of imprisoning those who infringed it, without judicial authority or the privilege of trial; and that he thushad many persons in private prisons--a proceeding ever justly odiousin England, and contrary to the spirit of the constitution. 

One of Sir Giles's monopolies related to the licensing of inns and theselling of horse-provender. Strangely enough, however, that monopolywhich created the chief indignation was for the preparation and saleof gold and silver lace. He 'sophisticated' it, as the parliamentarydocuments call it--that is, he used base metal instead of bullion. Onecould imagine such a monopoly existing without the people beinggreatly oppressed by it. But gold and silver lace was much used by thearistocracy, and it seems probable that the indignation of parliamentwas considerably excited by feelings of a somewhat personal character. It is well known, that the person who chiefly supported thesemonopolies, and had the largest share of advantage from them, was theinfamous favourite, the Duke of Buckingham. Instead of standing by hisaccomplice, however, he no sooner saw the wrath of parliamentseriously and dangerously roused, than he gave up the monopolist as avictim. King James, too, who had bullied and insulted all whocomplained, seeing that parliament was in a truly formidable humour, went sneaking there, and boasted of having done his best to apprehendSir Giles. 'For I do assure you, ' he said, 'in the heart of an honestman, and on the faith of a Christian king, which both ye and all theworld know me to be, had these things been complained of to me beforethe parliament, I would have done the office of a just king, and outof parliament have punished them as severely, and peradventure more, than ye now intend to do. But now that they are discovered to me inparliament, I shall be as ready in this way as I should have been inthe other. For, I confess, I am ashamed--these things proving so asthey are generally reported to be--that it was not my good-fortune tobe the only author of the reformation and punishment of them, by someordinary course of justice. '

Parliament, however, wisely kept the matter in its own hands, andimmediately passed one of the most remarkable laws in thestatute-book. This was no other than the act of 1623, establishing oursystem of patents for inventions. The original and main object of thisact, was to take from the crown the power of granting monopolies. Anexception was introduced, which is supposed to be owing to theenlightened foresight of Bacon, authorising the crown to grant for alimited period monopolies to inventors. 

This law did not extend to Scotland until the Union; and hence it is, that in the High Street we have at this day in existence a patent ofthe reign of Charles I. 

FOOTNOTES:

[4] _Parliamentary History_, 1601. 

A VENETIAN ADVENTURE OF YESTERDAY. 

I was induced last summer to do rather a foolish thing for amiddle-aged spinster--I undertook to chaperon a volatile young nieceupon a continental tour. We travelled the usual course up the Rhineinto Switzerland, which we enjoyed rapturously. Then passing the Alps, we spent a few days at Milan, and next proceeded to Verona. In allthis journey, nothing occurred to mar our English frankness, ordisturb our good-humour. We beheld, indeed, the subjection of theLombardese people with pain. Still, it was no business of ours; and Imay as well candidly state that, to the best of my recollection, wegave exceedingly little thought to the subject. 

At Verona, the romance of Claudia's character found some scope. Sheraved at the so-called tomb of Juliet, was never tired of ramblingamong the ruins of the Roman amphitheatre, and made herself ill withthe fresh figs and grapes presented in such abundance in thepicturesque old market-place. I confess I should as soon have dreamedof danger from some ancient volcano of the Alps, as from the politicalsystem of the country which we were traversing. Indeed, it never couldhave occurred to us that a quiet lady of a certain age, and a youngone just emancipated from frocks, were persons about whom a greatempire could have been in any alarm. It was destined that we shouldfind ourselves of much more consequence than we gave ourselves creditfor. 

On returning from our ramble, and entering the great _sala_ of the_Due Torre_, I remember experiencing a slight sense of alarm at sightof the large proportion of Austrian officers amongst those sittingdown to dinner. Still, as the feeling sprung from no definite cause, Ireadily gave up my wish for a separate dinner; and, yielding to thesolicitations of an officious waiter, allowed myself and niece to takeseats at table. My first feeling returned in some force when I saw atall, bearded officer, after depositing his sword in a corner of theroom, seat himself next to Claudia. A request on her part for the saltsufficed to open a conversation between them; but as it was in German, I could not follow its meaning. I observed, however, that it by and bywaxed rather more warm than is customary in the languid hour of a_table-d'hôte_; and, what was more, a silence ensued amongst aconsiderable number of those within hearing, as if the subject oftheir conversation were of an interesting character. A kind-lookingEnglish gentleman on the opposite side of the table seemed to becomeuneasy, and he soon telegraphed to me with a look which I could notmisunderstand. In real alarm, I touched Claudia's arm, and indicatedmy wish to retire. As soon as we reached our own apartment, Ianxiously asked her what she had been saying, and what that animatedconversation was about. 'Oh, nothing particular, Tantie dear. We weretalking politics; but I am not a Republican, you know. You need notlook afraid. I am a Royalist, and I told him so. Only, I said Ithought it would be better for Italy to have an Italian king than anAustrian emperor. He did not seem to think so; but you know every onecannot think alike. '

'Oh, you unfortunate little girl!' I exclaimed; 'you little know theimprudence of which you have been guilty;' and I bitterly regretted myignorance of German, which had allowed her to make such ademonstration of her sentiments. Still, she was but a child--what shehad said was but a foolish sentiment. I could scarcely, after all, think that any serious consequences would ensue from so simple amatter; nevertheless, I felt that the sooner we left Verona thebetter. We accordingly started next morning for Venice. 

It was a most lovely day. The sun shone richly on the thousands ofgrape-bunches that hung on the vines, and on the wild-flowers thatgrew at their feet; and then the beautiful languid way in which thevines grow added another charm to the scene: apparently overcome byheat and lassitude, they throw themselves from one tree to another fortheir support, and hang between them in graceful festoons. We were notlong, however, in the region of the green, and now slightlyautumn-tinted leaves; our steam-engine seemed suddenly to haveconceived the idea of drowning us, for we darted into the sea, andwith nothing but water on either side, we appeared to be hurried on bysome gigantic rope-dancer, so light was the bridge over which we werecarried. Involuntarily, I seized hold of Claudia's arm; but graduallyI saw in the distance so beautiful a thing--such a silent, white, fairy-like city, under such a brilliant sky, that I lost all earthlyfear, and, in spite of the tangible railway carriage in which I was, Ifelt as if, like King Arthur, I was being borne by fairies to theirfairy home. 

At last we arrived, and entered by a long dusty passage the Dogana, inorder to be examined. All romantic visions had now faded away:ordinary mortals were in attendance to look over our boxes; and itbeing the middle of a hot day, I began to feel both thirsty and tired, and most anxious to arrive quickly at the hotel, in order to securecomfortable apartments. Claudia stood for some time with the keys inher hand, vainly endeavouring to induce one of the custom-houseofficers to look at our boxes. The examination did not appear verystrict, and we observed many of our fellow-passengers had their boxesjust opened, and then were allowed to depart, with scarcely any delay. At last, one of the men approached us, and Claudia pointed to her openbox, and asked him to examine it. The man looked up into her face--Ithought, in a very scrutinising manner--then at the name on the box, and then retired, and whispered to one of his companions, who cameback with him, and asked in Italian for our passport. This Iimmediately produced. They examined it, and said something to eachother in German; upon which Claudia, who was more familiar with thatlanguage than with Italian, asked them in it to be kind enough toexamine our boxes quickly, as her aunt was much tired. I saw the menexchange glances, and then they came forward to examine us. Beingutterly unconscious of any necessity for concealment, we had leftseveral English books at the very top of the box. These they carefullytook out, and laid on one side, and then proceeded to rummagethe boxes from top to bottom. By this time, as most of ourfellow-passengers had been examined, and had proceeded to theirhotels, I was getting fatigued and nervous, when it struck me that asmall douceur would perhaps set matters right. This idea Icommunicated to Claudia, and she, speaking privately to a superiorsort of man, who was overlooking the other, assured him that we weretwo perfectly unoffending English ladies travelling for pleasure, having nothing whatever to do with politics, and entreated him to letus go, at the same time putting some money in a hand convenientlyplaced for its reception. No sooner, however, had it been safelypocketed, than the man assured her that he could do nothing whateverfor us, and that he must take some opportunity, when nobody waslooking, of giving her back the money. It is needless to say, thatthis opportunity never arrived; and in the meantime, we were takeninto a small room, to be more particularly examined. 

Here another box was opened, when, to the great vexation of my dearClaudia, her journal was found. Hitherto she had been very patient, but now she could bear it no longer. What! her journal, so carefullylocked that nobody had ever been allowed to read it, to be at themercy of these strange men! Claudia remonstrated loudly. 'They mighthave anything else they chose, ' she said, 'but that she really couldnot give them. ' She did not perceive that the more anxious sheappeared about the book, the more important it seemed in their eyes, and the more anxious they, of course, were to retain it. After a longdiscussion, and many prayers and entreaties on Claudia's part, thebooks and papers were sealed up before us. They inquired what hotel wewere going to, and told us we must call the next day for our books ata certain custom-house office they mentioned. Feeling harassed andpersecuted, we proceeded to our hotel, my unhappiness being renderedmore acute by our being separated from our _Murray_, without which Ifelt myself a perfectly helpless being, entirely at the mercy of anyone who chose to impose upon me. 

We obtained apartments at the hotel we intended lodging at, and as itwas now late in the day, ordered our dinner, and retired early torest, very anxious for the morrow, that we might know the fate of ourbooks. Accordingly, the first thing we did the next day was to take agondola, and proceed to the custom-house that had been mentioned tous. There, however, they knew nothing of our books. So we went to theBritish Consulate, to inform them of our case, and then returned tothe hotel. During this voyage, I had several times observed a paperstuck against the walls, with _Notificazione_ written in large letterson it, with some smaller printing beneath it. With a very uneasyheart, I asked Claudia to read it, and tell me what it meant. She didso, and found that it was informing the world in general, that twonoble Italians were condemned, one to death, and the other to thegalleys, for political offences. Of course, we were no judges of therights of the case; but it is impossible not to feel one's heartsaddened by the approaching death of a fellow-creature; besides which, my heart trembled for Claudia, and I conjured up to my mind theleaden-roof prisons; those beneath the ducal palace, those underwater; the Bridge of Sighs; and that fearful part of the lagoon whereno fishing was allowed, lest it should reveal some fearful secret, known only to the dead, and to certain minions of the dread Council. In vain I repeated to myself, that those days were past; in vain wasit that Claudia laughed at my fears, and told me it was disgracefulfor a British subject to feel them: still my heart felt heavy, and Ishall not soon forget the anxiety of that hour. 

We returned to the hotel, where we had not long been, when we wereinformed that a gentleman wished to speak to us. Fearful moment! Ipictured to myself a ferocious-looking officer with a guard, likethose who come upon the stage with Jaffier. Somewhat to my relief, thereality turned out to be of a gentler character. I found myselfintroduced to a polite-looking personage, who, however, speedilyinformed me, through the medium of the waiter--for we had no commonlanguage--that he did not want me, but a younger lady! O my poorClaudia! My heart beating violently, I returned to her, and informedher that she was wanted. Instead of being at all alarmed, she appearedrather gratified at finding herself of so much importance, andhastened to join the person who was waiting for her. He, in a verypolite and respectful manner, told us that our books were at thepolice-office, and only awaited our arrival to be examined. Accordingly, we ordered a gondola, and accompanied him there. On theway, he took an opportunity of informing Claudia, that he was not whatwas called in England a policeman, but a gentleman, and that theperson who would examine her was a count. Claudia replied ratherhaughtily, that she was an English lady, and had never been examinedby any one. At last we arrived, and proceeded to the apartment of thecount; but what was my distress when I was informed that Claudia wasto be examined alone! Claudia declared that she was a British subject, and that such a proceeding was an insult. I was almost in hysterics, and with tears entreated to be permitted to accompany my niece; butthe obdurate though polite count was immovable. He merely said toClaudia: 'Madame, you have avowed that you have in your possessionpapers which have never been read by anybody but yourself; thereforeyou must be examined alone. ' Further opposition was hopeless, so Ireturned disconsolate to my gondola, to await the issue. 

When Claudia was left alone with the count, he shewed her a paper inwhich he was officially informed, that a lady of her name andappearance was coming to Venice, who was suspected of being adangerous political character. To hear such a character attributed toher--to her, who was only last year boarding in a school--to her, whoknew little more of politics than that Queen Victoria and PrinceAlbert were the most amiable young couple in England--was ludicrouseven in that hour of trouble. I do not exactly know how she comportedherself during her examination; but I suspect she not merely laughedat the whole affair, but felt a little elated at the idea of beingheld as of so much importance. She was really anxious, however, abouther journal and writing-case, as they contained so many things 'of noimportance to any but the owner. ' When the count informed her, thatthe journal and papers must, in the first place, be subjected totranslation, she could set no bounds to her vexation; and yet thething had its ridiculous aspect also. She had been pretty free, in thejournal, with her criticisms on the Austrian army, though only withregard to the appearance and manners of the officers. How they were totake her remarks on their moustaches, their everlasting smoking, andtheir almost as constant perseverance in _dining_, was not to beconceived. Then her papers--scraps of paper on which she had triedrhymes, such as love, dove; heart, part; fame, name; with a view toembodiment in her poems--letters from young friends, telling all aboutthe parties of their respective mammas, and how interesting the lastbaby was: to think of these being subjected to the rigid scrutiny of acouncil of either Ten or Three, was too whimsical. To the count, onthe other hand, everything was grave and official. He said he couldwell believe, that she was innocent of all that had been imputed toher; still, his instructions must be obeyed. He could not promise therestoration of her papers in less than ten days. At the end of theexamination, he courteously dismissed her, but not without letting herknow, that she and her companion would be under the surveillance ofthe police till the papers were fully examined. 

My light-hearted niece returned to me with an air of importance quitenew to her, and which did not abate till she observed how exceedinglyI had suffered during our separation. I felt reassured on learningthat everything depended on the examination of the papers, as I had nodoubt they were of a sufficiently innocent character. The shock, however, had been enough to mar my power of enjoying Venice. We did, indeed, go about to see the usual sights; and even the shadow-likeattendance of the policeman ceased at length to give us muchannoyance. But I saw everything through an unpleasant medium, andheartily wished myself out of a region where the government of pureforce seems the only one attainable. At the end of a fortnight, wereceived back our papers, with many apologies for their detention, andfor the scrutiny to which we had been exposed; which, however, it tootruly appeared, had been brought upon us by that one incautiousexpression of Claudia at Verona. Very soon after, we left Venice, andregained the safe shores of England with little further adventure. 

[_Note. _--Let no one suppose that this is in any degree anexaggeration of the present state of things in Venice. Only about amonth after the adventure of the two ladies, two individuals of thatcity were condemned for having been in correspondence with politicalexiles. One, a nobleman, had his sentence commuted to the galleys, atthe intercession of a Spanish princess, daughter of Don Carlos; theother, a bookseller in the Piazza di San Marco, was hanged on themorning of Saturday the 11th October, during the whole of which dayhis body was exposed to the public gaze. The walls were next day foundextensively inscribed with, 'Venetians! remember the murder ofyesterday, and revenge it!'--_Ed. _]

STUDENT-LIFE AT CAMBRIDGE. 

Most Englishmen know as much about Timbuctoo or Patagonia as theyeither know or care to know about Oxford or Cambridge. Those, however, who have the curiosity to include such subjects in their knowledge of'foreign parts, ' will find a very pleasant guide to an acquaintancewith the geography, language, laws, manners, and customs of Cambridge, in a work recently published by an American student, [5] who some yearsago transferred his studies from Yale College to that university. 

In describing Cambridge, Mr Bristed asks his readers to imagine themost irregular town that _can_ be imagined--streets of the verycrookedest kind, houses low and antique, with their upper storeyssometimes projecting into the narrow pathway, which leads thebewildered stranger every now and then over a muddy little river, winding through the town in all sorts of ways, so that in whateverdirection he walks from any point, he is always sure before long tocome to a bridge. Such is the town of Cambridge--the _bridge_ over the_Cam_. And among these narrow, ugly, dirty streets, are tumbled in, asit were at random, some of the most beautiful academical buildings inthe world. 

It was in the October of 1840, that our young New-Yorker first wendedhis way through these narrow streets, and gazed upon these beautifulbuildings. The idea of an educational institution scattered over anarea of some miles, was new to the late inhabitant of the brick barnyclept Yale College. The monkish appearance of the population was noless novel, while his own appearance caused the gownsmen to retaliatehis curiosity. He was dressed, he tells us, in the 'last Gothamitefashion, with the usual accessories of gold chain and diamond pin, thewhole surmounted by a blue cloth cloak'--a costume which drew downupon him a formidable array of eye-glasses. 

Mr Bristed entered Trinity College as a fellow-commoner. Thefellow-commoners are 'young men of fortune, ' who, in consideration ofpaying twice as much for everything as anybody else, are allowed theprivilege of sitting at the fellows' table in hall, and in their seatsat chapel; of wearing a gown with gold or silver lace, and a velvetcap with a metallic tassel; and of getting off with a less number of'chapels' per week. The main body of the students are calledpensioners. The sizars are an inferior class, who receive alms fromthe college, and dine gratis after the fellows (_sic_), on the remainsof their table. 

When one 'goes up, ' as the phrase is, to the university, the firstacademical authority he makes acquaintance with in the regular orderof things, is the college tutor. Besides lecturing, this functionaryis the medium of all the students' pecuniary relations with thecollege. He sends in their accounts every term, and receives the moneythrough his banker; nay, more, he takes in their tradesmen's bills, and settles them also. The tutor is supposed to stand _in locoparentis_. Some colleges have one, others two, and even three tutors, according to the size. The first thing, is to be examined; and thisover, the freshman is first inducted into his rooms by a _gyp_ (from[Greek: gyps], a _vulture_!), who acts as flunkey to a dozen or twentystudents--calling them in the morning, brushing their clothes, carrying parcels and the queerly-twisted notes they are constantlywriting to each other, waiting at their parties, and so on. 'Boots' isa subordinate functionary. The furniture of the room is generallytaken from the former occupant at a valuation by the collegeupholsterer. Crockery he has always to find for himself; but in thismatter, again, he has the college authorities to assist him in gettinga good article. 

We shall now accompany the student through a day's history. Morningchapel begins at seven; and the gyp calls him at half-past six. Inchapel, he commences picking up some knowledge of the powers that be, or the _dons_, as they are styled in the slang of the university. Ingeneral terms, they are the _master and fellows_. 

The master, or 'head of the house, ' is the supreme ruler within thecollege walls, and moves about like an undergraduate's deity. Thefellows, who form the general body from which the othercollege-officers are chosen, are the aggregate of those four or fivebachelor scholars per annum, who pass the best examination inclassics, mathematics, and metaphysics. The eight oldest fellows atany time in residence, together with the master, have the governmentof the college vested in them. The _dean_ is the presiding officer inchapel: his business is to pull up the absentees--no sinecure, it issaid. Even the scholars, who are literally paid for going, everychapel being directly worth two shillings sterling to them, give thedean a good deal of trouble. Other officers are the _vice-master_, the _bursar_ or treasurer, lecturers, assistant-lecturers, assistant-tutors, four chaplains, and the librarian. Prayers last halfan hour; after which the student walks in the college grounds, and by8, he is seated by his comfortable fire over his hot rolls and tea. At9, lectures begin, and continue till 12, some ten or eleven going onat once, and each occupying an hour. A little before 1, the studentresorts to his private tutor, or _coach_, as the cantabs call him. Hegenerally takes five or six pupils a day, giving an hour to each. Thecoach is indispensable to a student; and 'a good coach' is always ingreat requisition. His intercourse with his pupils is of the mostfamiliar character; nevertheless, he must drive his team well, orhe would lose his reputation. From 2 till 4 is the traditionaltime of exercise, the most usual modes of which are walking(constitutionalising is the cantab for it) and rowing. Cricketing, andall games of ball, are much practised in their respective seasons. Towards 4 P. M. , they begin to flock in for dinner. A Latin grace isread by two of the dons, and forthwith the demolition of eatablesproceeds. Though there is a common hall, there is no common table. Onthe contrary, there is no end to the variety, both as respects rank, provision, and privilege. Hall lasts about three-quarters of an hour. Two scholars conclude the business by reading a long Latin grace--thedons, it is said, being too full after dinner for such duty. Afterhall is emphatically lounging-time. Some stroll in the grounds; manybetake themselves to the reading-room; and many assemble atwine-parties, to exchange the gossip of the day. At 6 P. M. , thechapel-bell rings again, when the muster is better than in themorning. After chapel, the evening reading begins in earnest. Most ofthe cantabs are late readers, always endeavouring to secure severalhours' consecutive work, their only intermission being to take a cupor two of tea by way of stimulus. One solid meal a day is the rule:even when they go out to sup, as a reading-man does perhaps once aterm, and a rowing-man twice a week, they eat very moderately, thoughthe same cannot always be said of their potations. Such is thereading-man's day--now for the boating-man's. 

Boating is _the_ university amusement, _par excellence_. The expenseof it is small, and the Cam so convenient--just behind the colleges. At all times of the year you may see solitary men in wherries; whilethe boat-clubs for the formal spring-races are a convenient outlet forcollege emulation--the 'top of the river' being an honour hardlyinferior to the senior wranglership. Each college has at least oneboat-club; and about nine races take place in the season. They have anannual match with Oxford, in which they are generally victorious, forthe cantabs are reckoned to be the best smooth-water 'oars' inEngland, if not in the world. The Cam not being much wider than acanal, it is impossible for the boats to race side by side. They are, therefore, drawn up in a line, two lengths between each, and thecontest consists in each boat endeavouring to touch with its bow thestern of the one before it, which operation is called _bumping_; andat the next race, the _bumper_ takes the place of the _bumped_. To-day, there is to be a race; and the gownsmen--_not_ in theirgowns--are hurrying down to the scene of action, distant two milesfrom the town. Bang! There goes the first gun! In three minutes, therewill be another; and in two more, a third; and then for it! We are atthe upper end of 'the Long Reach, ' where we have a good view. Theeight stalwart Caius-men bend to their oars the moment they see thelast gun flash. On they come at a good rate, the Caius-men, who arefirst, taking it quite easy, when suddenly there is a shout: 'Trinity!Trinity! Go it, Trinity!' Trinity is now overhauling Caius at everystroke; and the partisans of the respective boats fill the air withtheir shouts. 'Now, Keys (Caius)!' 'Now, Trinity!' 'Why don't youpull, Keys?' 'Now you have 'em, Trinity!' 'Keys!' 'Trinity!' 'Now'syour chance, Keys!' 'Pull, Trinity!' 'Pull, Keys!' 'Hurrah, Trinity!inity! inity!' Not more than half a foot intervenes between thepursuer and the pursued, still Caius pulls with all his might; forboats occasionally run a mile almost touching. But there is no morechance. One tremendous pull from Trinity, and half that distance hasdisappeared. Another such stroke, and you are aboard of them. Hurrah!a bump--a bump! Not so. Caius is on the look-out; and with a skilfulinclination of the rudder, the steersman makes his boat fall off--justthe least bit in the world, but enough--Trinity overlaps, but does nottouch. Another moment, and Trinity is head of the river. 

The staple exercise, however, is walking. Between 2 and 4, all theroads in the neighbourhood of Cambridge are covered with men takingtheir constitutionals. Longer walks, of twelve or fifteen miles, arefrequently taken on Sundays. There is not so much riding as might besupposed. When there is ice enough, the cantabs are great skaters. Itis almost a _sine qua non_ that their exercise should be in the openair. A finer set of men, consequently, is not to be seen. So bent, indeed, are they upon combining study and recreation, that, during thevacations, they form excursion-parties, which, from their professeddesign, are called _reading_-parties (_lucus a non lucendo_), and ofwhich the utmost that can be advanced in justification of their nameis, that reading is _not impossible_. Reading-parties do not confinethemselves to England, or even the United Kingdom; sometimes they goas far as Dresden. When a crack tutor goes on one, which is notoften, he takes his whole team with him. 

Debating-clubs do not seem to be so common at the English universitiesas at the Scotch. At Cambridge, there is only one of a publicnature--the 'Union. ' Henry F. Hallam was instrumental in getting up asmall society of about forty members, called the 'Historical. ' Anothersociety of a private nature was composed of a number of intellectualaspirants, called the 'Cambridge _Apostles_;' so called, it is said, because they had usually thirteen members in residence. This was auniversity feeder to the Metropolitan Club, founded by the friends ofJohn Sterling. Their association had great influence in the formationof their minds and characters--a sort of mutual benefit society inmore respects than one. For example, when a member of the clubpublishes a book, one of the fraternity has a footing in the_Edinburgh_, another in the _Quarterly_, a third in _Fraser_, and afourth in _Blackwood_, and so the new work is well introduced. BothTennyson and Thackeray, it is said, got well taken notice of in thisway by their comrades. But there was no plan at the bottom ofit--nothing to constitute them a name. The Apostles were alwaysinveighing against cant--always affecting much earnestness, and ahearty dislike of formalism, which rendered them far from popular withthe _high_ and _dry_ in literature, politics, or religion. They wereeyed with terror by the conservatives as something foreign--German, radical, altogether monstrous. But, in reality, their objects wereliterary--not religious; and religion only entered into theirdiscussions as it must into those of all serious and philosophic men. 

Upon the whole, our young American was much pleased with Cambridge, and much benefited during his residence there. Genial himself, hefound Englishmen the same; and though he had his eyes open, while inthis country, and never forgot that he was an American, he writes withgreat impartiality, which raises the value of his intense enthusiasmfor the English and English life. After five years' residence, he tookleave of his friends in a series of substantial dinners, that theremight be a pleasant memory of the transatlantic in their mouths. On afine May morning, he took his last walk in the beautiful grounds ofTrinity, and set out for New York, where he now leads a classicalexistence, puzzling the natives by his free use of the Græco-cantabdialect, as well as by a semi-pagan sort of worship which he pays tohis _Alma Mater_. 

FOOTNOTES:

[5] _Five Tears at an English University_, By C. A. Bristed. 2 vols. New York: 1852. 

DREAMS. 

Dreams usually take place in a single instant, notwithstanding thelength of time they seem to occupy. They are, in fact, slight mentalsensations, unregulated by consciousness; these sensations being lessor more intense, painful or agreeable, according to certain physicalconditions. On this subject, the following observations occur in DrWinslow's _Psychological Journal_:--'We have in dreams no trueperception of the lapse of time--a strange property of mind! for ifsuch be also its property when entered into the eternal disembodiedstate, time will appear to us eternity. The relations of space, aswell as of time, are also annihilated; so that while almost aneternity is compressed into a moment, infinite space is traversed moreswiftly than by real thought. There are numerous illustrations of thisprinciple on record. A gentleman dreamed that he had enlisted as asoldier, joined his regiment, deserted, was apprehended, carried back, tried, condemned to be shot, and at last led out for execution. Afterall the usual preparations, a gun was fired; he awoke with the report, and found that a noise in the adjoining room had, at the same moment, produced the dream, and awakened him. A friend of Dr Abercrombiedreamed that he had crossed the Atlantic, and spent a fortnight inAmerica. In embarking, on his return, he fell into the sea, andawakening in the fright, found that he had not been asleep tenminutes. '

A WIND-STORM AT NIGHT. 

 O sudden blast, that through night's silence black Sweep'st past my windows, Coming and going with invisible track-- As death or sin does--

 Why scare me, lying sick, and--save thine own-- Hearing no voices? Why mingle with a helpless human moan Thy fierce rejoices?

 Thou shouldst come gently, as good angels come To souls departing; Floating among the shadows of the room With eyes light-darting:

 Bringing faint airs of balm, and tones that rouse Thoughts of a Far Land; Binding so softly upon aching brows Death's poppy-garland. 

 O fearful blast, I shudder at thy sound; Like some poor mortal Who hears the Three that mark life's doomèd bound Sit at his portal. 

 Thy wings seem laden with sad, shrieking souls, Borne, all unwilling, From earth's known plains, to the unknown gulf that rolls, Evermore filling. 

 Fierce wind! will the Death-Angel come like thee, And swiftly bear me-- _Whither_?--What mysteries may unfold to me? What horrors scare me?

 Shall I go wandering on through silent space, Lonely--still lonely? Or seek through myriad spirit-ranks one face, And miss that only?

 Shall I not then drop down from sphere to sphere, Palsied and aimless? Or will my being new so changed appear That grief dies nameless?

 Rather, I pray Him who Himself is Love, Out of whose essence All pure souls spring, and towards Him tending, move Back to His presence--

 His light transfiguring, may not efface The soul's earth-features, That the dear human likeness each may trace-- Glorified creatures:

 That we may love each other, only taught Holier desiring; And seek all wisdom, as on earth we sought, Ever aspiring:

 That we may do all work we left undone Through frail unmeetness; From sphere to sphere together passing on Towards full completeness. 

 Then, strong Azrael, be thy solemn call Soft as spring-breezes, Or like this blast, whose loud fiend-festival My heart's pulse freezes--

 I will not fear thee!--If thou safely keep My soul, God's giving, And my soul's soul--I, wakening from death's sleep, Shall first know _living_. 

 * * * * *

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