CHAMBERS' EDINBURGH JOURNAL

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

 No. 446. NEW SERIES. SATURDAY, JULY 17, 1852. PRICE 1-1/2_d. _

WOLF-CHILDREN. 

It is a pity that the present age is so completely absorbed inmaterialities, at a time when the facilities are so singularly greatfor a philosophy which would inquire into the constitution of ourmoral nature. In the North Pacific, we are in contact with tribes ofsavages ripening, sensibly to the eye, into civilised communities; andwe are able to watch the change as dispassionately as if we were inour studies examining the wonders of the minute creation through amicroscope. In America, we have before us a living model, blind, mute, deaf, and without the sense of smell; communicating with the externalworld by the sense of touch alone; yet endowed with a rareintelligence, which permits us to see, through the fourfold veil thatshrouds her, the original germs of the human character. [1] Nearerhome, we have been from time to time attracted and astonished by thespectacle of children, born of European parents, emerging from forestswhere they had been lost for a series of years, fallen back, not intothe moral condition of savages, but of wild beasts, with thesentiments and even the instincts of their kind obliterated for ever. And now we have several cases before us, occurring in India, of thesame lapses from humanity, involving circumstances curious inthemselves, but more important than curious, as throwing a strangelight upon what before was an impenetrable mystery. It is to these wemean to direct our attention on the present occasion; but before doingso, it will be well just to glance at the natural history of the wildchildren of Europe. [2]

The most remarkable specimen, and the best type of the class, wasfound in the year 1725, in a wood in Hanover. With the appearance of ahuman being--of a boy about thirteen years of age--he was in everyrespect a wild animal, walking on all-fours, feeding on grass andmoss, and lodging in trees. When captured, he exhibited a strongrepugnance to clothing; he could not be induced to lie on a bed, frequently tearing the clothes to express his indignation; and in theabsence of his customary lair among the boughs of a tree, he crouchedin a corner of the room to sleep. Raw food he devoured with relish, more especially cabbage-leaves and other vegetables, but turned awayfrom the sophistications of cookery. He had no articulate language, expressing his emotions only by the sounds emitted by various animals. Although only five feet three inches, he was remarkably strong; henever exhibited any interest in the female sex; and even in his oldage--for he was supposed to be seventy-three when he died--it was onlyin external manners he had advanced from the character of a wild beastto that of a good-tempered savage, for he was still withoutconsciousness of the Great Spirit. 

In other children that were caught subsequently to Peter, for that wasthe name they gave him, the same character was observable, althoughwith considerable modifications. One of them, a young girl of twelveor thirteen, was not merely without sympathy for persons of the malesex, but she held them all her life in great abhorrence. Her temperwas ungovernable; she was fond of blood, which she sucked from theliving animal; and was something more than suspected of the cannibalpropensity. On one occasion, she was seen to dive as naturally as anotter in a lake, catch a fish, and devour it on the spot. Yet thisgirl eventually acquired language; was even able to give someindistinct account of her early career in the woods; and towards theclose of her life, when subdued by long illness, exhibited few tracesof having once been a wild animal. Another, a boy of eleven or twelve, was caught in the woods of Canne, in France. He was impatient, capricious, violent; rushing even through crowded streets like anill-trained dog; slovenly and disgusting in his manners; affected withspasmodic motions of the head and limbs; biting and scratching all whodispleased him; and always, when at comparative rest, balancing hisbody like a wild animal in a menagerie. His senses were incapable ofbeing affected by anything not appealing to his personal feelings: apistol fired close to his head excited little or no emotion, yet heheard distinctly the cracking of a walnut, or the touch of a hand uponthe key which kept him captive. The most delicious perfumes, or themost fetid exhalations, were the same thing to his sense of smell, because these did not affect, one way or other, his relish for hisfood, which was of a disgusting nature, and which he dragged about thefloor like a dog, eating it when besmeared with filth. Like almost allthe lower animals, he was affected by the changes of the weather; buton some of these occasions, his feelings approached to the human intheir manifestations. When he saw the sun break suddenly from a cloud, he expressed his joy by bursting into convulsive peals of laughter;and one morning, when he awoke, on seeing the ground covered withsnow, he leaped out of bed, rushed naked into the garden, rolledhimself over and over in the snow, and stuffing handfuls of it intohis mouth, devoured it eagerly. Sometimes he shewed signs of a truemadness, wringing his hands, gnashing his teeth, and becomingformidable to those about him. But in other moods, the phenomena ofnature seemed to tranquillise and sadden him. When the severity of theseason, as we are informed by the French physician who had charge ofhim, had driven every other person out of the garden, he stilldelighted to walk there; and after taking many turns, would seathimself beside a pond of water. Here his convulsive motions, and thecontinual balancing of his whole body, diminished, and gave way to amore tranquil attitude; his face gradually assumed the character ofsorrow or melancholy reverie, while his eyes were steadfastly fixed onthe surface of the water, and he threw into it, from time to time, some withered leaves. In like manner, on a moonlight night, when therays of the moon entered his room, he seldom failed to awake, and toplace himself at the window. Here he would remain for a considerabletime, motionless, with his neck extended, and his eyes fixed on themoonlight landscape, and wrapped in a kind of contemplative ecstasy, the silence of which was interrupted only by profound inspirations, accompanied by a slight plaintive noise. 

We have only to add, that by the anxious care of the physician, and athousand ingenious contrivances, the senses of this human animal, withthe exception of his hearing, which always remained dull andimpassive, were gradually stimulated, and he was even able at lengthto pronounce two or three words. Here his history breaks off. 

The scene of these extraordinary narratives has hitherto been confinedto Europe; but we have now to draw attention to the wild children ofIndia. It happens, fortunately, that in this case the character of thetestimony is unimpeachable; for although brought forward in a brief, rough pamphlet, published in a provincial town, and merely said to be'by an Indian Official, ' we recognise both in the manner and matterthe pen of Colonel Sleeman, the British Resident at the court ofLucknow, whose invaluable services in putting down thuggee anddacoitee in India we have already described to our readers. [3]

The district of Sultanpoor, in the kingdom of Oude, a portion of thegreat plain of the Ganges, is watered by the Goomtee River, anavigable stream, about 140 yards broad, the banks of which are muchinfested by wolves. These animals are protected by the superstition ofthe Hindoos, and to such an extent, that a village community withinwhose boundaries a single drop of their blood has been shed, isbelieved to be doomed to destruction. The wolf is safe--but from avery different reason--even from those vagrant tribes who have nopermanent abiding-place, but bivouac in the jungle, and feed uponjackals, reptiles--anything, and who make a trade of catching andselling such wild animals as they consider too valuable to eat. Thereason why the vulpine ravager is spared by these wretches is--_thatwolves devour children_! Not, however, that the wanderers have anydislike to children, but they are tempted by the jewels with whichthey are adorned; and knowing the dens of the animals, they make thisfearful gold-seeking a part of their business. The adornment of theirpersons with jewellery is a passion with the Hindoos which nothing canovercome. Vast numbers of women--even those of the most infamousclass--are murdered for the sake of their ornaments, yet the lesson islost upon the survivors. Vast numbers of children, too, fall victimsin the same way, and from the same cause, or are permitted, by thosewho shrink from murder, to be carried off and devoured by the wolves;yet no Indian mother can withstand the temptation to bedizen herchild, whenever it is in her power, with bracelets, necklaces, andother ornaments of gold and silver. So much is necessary as anintroduction to the incidents that follow. 

One day, a trooper, like Spenser's gentle knight, 'was pricking on theplain, ' near the banks of the Goomtee. He was within a short distanceof Chandour, a village about ten miles from Sultanpoor, the capital ofthe district, when he halted to observe a large female wolf and herwhelps come out of a wood near the roadside, and go down to the riverto drink. There were four whelps. Four!--surely not more than three;for the fourth of the juvenile company was as little like a wolf aspossible. The horseman stared; for in fact it was a boy, going onall-fours like his comrades, evidently on excellent terms with themall, and guarded, as well as the rest, by the dam with the samejealous care which that exemplary mother, but unpleasant neighbour, bestows upon her progeny. The trooper sat still in his saddle watchingthis curious company till they had satisfied their thirst; but as soonas they commenced their return, he put spurs to his horse, tointercept the boy. Off ran the wolves, and off ran the boyhelter-skelter--the latter keeping close up with the dam; and thehorseman, owing to the unevenness of the ground, found it impossibleto overtake them before they had all entered their den. He wasdetermined, nevertheless, to attain his object, and assembling somepeople from the neighbouring village with pickaxes, they began to digin the usual way into the hole. Having made an excavation of six oreight feet, the garrison evacuated the place--the wolf, the threewhelps, and the boy, leaping suddenly out and taking to flight. Thetrooper instantly threw himself upon his horse, and set off inpursuit, followed by the fleetest of the party; and the ground overwhich they had to fly being this time more even, he at length headedthe chase, and turned the whole back upon the men on foot. Thesesecured the boy, and, according to prescriptive rule, allowed the wolfand her three whelps to go on their way. 

'They took the boy to the village, ' says Colonel Sleeman, 'but had totie him, for he was very restive, and struggled hard to rush intoevery hole or den they came near. They tried to make him speak, butcould get nothing from him but an angry growl or snarl. He was keptfor several days at the village, and a large crowd assembled every dayto see him. When a grown-up person came near him, he became alarmed, and tried to steal away; but when a child came near him, he rushed atit with a fierce snarl, like that of a dog, and tried to bite it. Whenany cooked meat was put near him, he rejected it in disgust; but whenraw meat was offered, he seized it with avidity, put it upon theground, under his hands, like a dog, and ate it with evident pleasure. He would not let any one come near while he was eating, but he made noobjection to a dog's coming and sharing his food with him. '

This wild boy was sent to Captain Nicholetts, the European officercommanding the 1st regiment of Oude Local Infantry, stationed atSultanpoor. He lived only three years after his capture, and died inAugust 1850. According to Captain Nicholetts' account of him, he wasvery inoffensive except when teased, and would then growl and snarl. He came to eat anything that was thrown to him, although muchpreferring raw flesh. He was very fond of uncooked bones, masticatingthem apparently with as much ease as meat; and he had likewise a stillmore curious partiality for small stones and earth. So great was hisappetite, that he has been known to eat half a lamb at one meal; andbuttermilk he would drink by the pitcher full without seeming to drawbreath. He would never submit to wear any article of dress even in thecoldest weather; and when a quilt stuffed with cotton was given tohim, 'he tore it to pieces, and ate a portion of it--cotton andall--with his bread every day. ' The countenance of the boy wasrepulsive, and his habits filthy in the extreme. He was never known tosmile; and although fond of dogs and jackals, formed no attachmentfor any human being. Even when a favourite pariah dog, which used tofeed with him, was shot for having fallen under suspicion of takingthe lion's share of the meal, he appeared to be quite indifferent. Hesometimes walked erect; but generally ran on all-fours--moreespecially to his food when it was placed at a distance from him. 

Another of these wolf-children was carried off from his parents atChupra (twenty miles from Sultanpoor), when he was three years of age. They were at work in the field, the man cutting his crop of wheat andpulse, and the woman gleaning after him, with the child sitting on thegrass. Suddenly, there rushed into the family party, from behind abush, a gaunt wolf, and seizing the boy by the loins, ran off with himto a neighbouring ravine. The mother followed with loud screams, whichbrought the whole village to her assistance; but they soon lost sightof the wolf and his prey, and the boy was heard no more of for sixyears. At the end of that time, he was found by two sipahisassociating, as in the former case, with wolves, and caught by the legwhen he had got half-way into the den. He was very ferocious whendrawn out, biting at his deliverers, and seizing hold of the barrel ofone of their guns with his teeth. They secured him, however, andcarried him home, when they fed him on raw flesh, hares, and birds, till they found the charge too onerous, and gave him up to the publiccharity of the village till he should be recognised by his parents. This actually came to pass. His mother, by that time a widow, hearinga report of the strange boy at Koeleapoor, hastened to the place fromher own village of Chupra, and by means of indubitable marks upon hisperson, recognised her child, transformed into a wild animal. Shecarried him home with her; but finding him destitute of naturalaffection, and in other respects wholly irreclaimable, at the end oftwo months she left him to the common charity of the village. 

When this boy drank, he dipped his face in the water, and sucked. Thefront of his elbows and knees had become hardened from going onall-fours with the wolves. The village boys amused themselves bythrowing frogs to him, which he caught and devoured; and when abullock died and was skinned, he resorted to the carcass like the dogsof the place, and fed upon the carrion. His body smelled offensively. He remained in the village during the day, for the sake of what hecould get to eat, but always went off to the jungle at night. In otherparticulars, his habits resembled those already described. We haveonly to add respecting him, that, in November 1850, he was sent fromSultanpoor, under the charge of his mother, to Colonel Sleeman--thenprobably at Lucknow--but something alarming him on the way, he raninto a jungle, and had not been recovered at the date of the lastdispatch. 

We pass over three other narratives of a similar kind, that presentnothing peculiar, and shall conclude with one more specimen of theIndian wolf-boy. This human animal was captured, like the first wehave described, by a trooper, with the assistance of another person onfoot. When placed on the pommel of the saddle, he tore the horseman'sclothes, and, although his hands were tied, contrived to bite himseverely in several places. He was taken to Bondee, where the rajahtook charge of him till he was carried off by Janoo, a lad who waskhidmutgar (table-attendant) to a travelling Cashmere merchant. Theboy was then apparently about twelve years of age, and went uponall-fours, although he could stand, and go awkwardly on his legs whenthreatened. Under Janoo's attention, however, in beating and rubbinghis legs with oil, he learned to walk like other human beings. But thevulpine smell continued to be very offensive, although his body wasrubbed for some months with mustard-seed soaked in water, and he wascompelled during the discipline to live on rice, pulse, and bread. Heslept under the mango-tree, where Janoo himself lodged, but was alwaystied to a tent-pin. 

One night, when the wild boy was lying asleep under his tree, Janoosaw two wolves come up stealthily, and smell at him. They touched him, and he awoke; and rising from his reclining posture, he put his handsupon the heads of his visitors, and they licked his face. They caperedround him, and he threw straw and leaves at them. The khidmutgar gaveup his protégé for lost; but presently he became convinced that theywere only at play, and he kept quiet. He at length gained confidenceenough to drive the wolves away; but they soon came back, and resumedtheir sport for a time. The next night, three playfellows made theirappearance, and in a few nights after, four. They came four or fivetimes, till Janoo lost all his fear of them. When the Cashmeremerchant returned to Lucknow, where his establishment was, Janoo stillcarried his pet with him, tied by a string to his own arm; and, tomake him useful according to his capacity, with a bundle on his head. At every jungle they passed, however, the boy would throw down thebundle, and attempt to dart into the thicket; repeating theinsubordination, though repeatedly beaten for it, till he was fairlysubdued, and became docile by degrees. The greatest difficulty was toget him to wear clothes, which to the last he often injured ordestroyed, by rubbing them against posts like a beast, when some partof his body itched. Some months after their arrival at Lucknow, Janoowas sent away from the place for a day or two on some business, and onhis return he found that the wild boy had escaped. He was never moreseen. 

It is a curious circumstance, that the wild children, whether ofEurope or Asia, have never been found above a certain age. They do notgrow into adults in the woods. Colonel Sleeman thinks their lives maybe cut short by their living exclusively on animal food; but to someof them, as we have seen, a vegetable diet has been habitual. Theprobability seems to be, that with increasing years, their addedboldness and consciousness of strength may lead them into fataladventures with their brethren of the forest. As for the protection ofthe animal by which they were originally nurtured becoming powerlessfrom age, which is another hypothesis, that supposes too romantic asystem of patronage and dependence. The head of the family must haveseveral successive series of descendants to care for after the arrivalof the stranger, and it is far more probable that the wild boy isobliged to turn out with his playmates, when they are ordered to shiftfor themselves, than that he alone remains a fixture at home. Thatprotection of some kind at first is a necessary condition of hissurviving at all, there can be no manner of doubt, although it doesnot follow that a wolf is always the patron. The different habits ofsome of the European children we have mentioned, shew a totallydifferent course of education. If, for instance, they had beennurtured by wolves, they would no more have learned to climb treesthan to fly in the air. As for the female specimen we have mentioned, hers was obviously an exceptional case. She was lost, as appeared fromher own statement, when old enough to work at some employment, and aclub she used as a weapon was one of her earliest recollections. 

The wild children of India, however, were obviously indebted to wolvesfor their miserable lives; and it is not so difficult as at firstsight might be supposed, to imagine the possibility of such anoccurrence. The parent wolves are so careful of their progeny, thatthey feed them for some time with half-digested food, disgorged bythemselves; and after that--if we may believe Buffon, who seems asfamiliar with the interior of a den as if he had boarded and lodged inthe family--they bring home to them live animals, such as hares andrabbits. These the young wolves play with, and when at length theyare hungry, kill: the mother then for the first time interfering, todivide the prey in equal portions. But in the case of a child beingbrought to the den--a child accustomed, in all probability, totyrannise over the whelps of pariah dogs and other young animals, theywould find it far easier to play than to kill; and if we only supposethe whole family going to sleep together, and the parents bringinghome fresh food in the morning--contingencies not highlyimprobable--the mystery is solved, although the marvel remains. It maybe added, that such wolves as we have an opportunity of observing inmenageries, are always gentle and playful when young, and it is onlytime that develops the latent ferocity of a character the mostdetestable, perhaps, in the whole animal kingdom. Cowardly and cruelin equal proportion, the wolf has no defenders. 'In short, ' saysGoldsmith--probably translating Buffon, for we have not the latter athand to ascertain--'every way offensive, a savage aspect, a frightfulhowl, an insupportable odour, a perverse disposition, fierce habits, he is hateful while living, and useless when dead. '

But what, then, is man, whom mere accidental association for a fewyears can strip of the faculties inherent in his race and convert intoa wolf? The lower animals retain their instincts in all circumstances. The kitten, brought up from birth on its mistress's lap, imbibes noneof her tastes in food or anything else. It rejects vegetables, sweets, fruits, all drinks but water or milk, and although content to satisfyits hunger with dressed meat, darts with an eager growl upon rawflesh. Man alone is the creature of imitation in good or in bad. Hisfaculties and instincts, although containing the _germ_ of everythingnoble, are not independent and self-existing like those of the brutes. This fact accounts for the difference observable, in an almoststereotyped form, in the different classes of society; it affords ahint to legislators touching their obligation to use the power theypossess in elevating, by means of education, the character of the moredegraded portions of the community; and it brings home to us all thegreat lesson of sympathy for the bad as well as the afflicted--bothvictims alike of _circumstances_, over which they in many cases havenearly as little control as the wild children of the desert. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] See 'The Rudimental, ' in No. 391. 

[2] A paper on this subject will be found in _Chambers's Miscellany ofUseful and Entertaining Tracts_, vol. V. No. 48. 

[3] See 'Gang-Robbers of India, ' in Nos. 360 and 361 of this Journal. The title of the pamphlet alluded to is, _An Account of Wolvesnurturing Children in their Dens_. By an Indian Official. Plymouth:Jenkin Thomas, printer. 1852. 

THE LITERATURE OF PARLIAMENT. 

The Imperial Parliament of Great Britain and Ireland, in addition toits other varied and important functions, fulfils, through one of itsbranches, that of a great national book manufactory. Every session, the House of Commons issues a whole library of valuable works, containing information of the most ample and searching kind onsubjects of a very miscellaneous character. These are the Blue-books, of which everybody has heard: many jokes are extant as to theirimposing bulk and great weight, literally and figuratively; and ageneration eminently addicted to light reading, may well look withhorror on these thick and closely-printed folios. But, in truth, theyare not for the mere _reader_: they are for the historian, and studentof any given subject; they are storehouses of material, not digestedtreatises. True it is, that their great size sometimes defeats itsobject--the valuable portion of the material is sometimes buried underthe comparatively worthless heap that surrounds it--the golden grainslost amid the chaff. But in a case of this kind, the error ofredundancy is one on the safe side; let a subject in all its bearingsbe thoroughly and fully brought up, and it is the fault or failing ofhim who sets about the study of it, if he is appalled at the amount ofinformation on which he has to work, or cannot discriminate and seizeupon the salient points, or on those which are necessary for his ownspecial purposes. 

Few persons, we believe, who have not had occasion to consult theseparliamentary volumes in a systematic manner, are at all aware of theimmense labour that is bestowed upon them, and the care andcompleteness with which they are compiled and arranged. Indeed, wedaresay few readers have any accurate notions of the actual number ofparliamentary papers annually issued, or of the nature of theircontents. From even a very cursory examination of the literary resultof a parliamentary session, the previously uninformed investigatorcould not fail to rise with a greatly augmented estimate of thefunctions of the great ruling body of the state--the guarding anddirecting power in the multitudinous affairs of the British Empire--anempire that extends over every possible variety of country andclimate, and includes under its powerful, yet mild and beneficentsway, tribes of every colour of skin, and of every shade of religiousbelief. Such a survey, in fact, tends to impress one more fully andimmediately than could well be fancied, with the magnitude of thebusiness of the British legislature, and the consequent weightyresponsibilities imposed upon its members. But, great as the burdenis, it is distributed over so many shoulders, that it appears to pressheavily, and really does so, only on a few who support it at the moretrying points. 

The session 1851 is the latest of whose labours, as they appear in theform of parliamentary records, an account can be given. By theadmirable system of arrangement we have referred to, eachparliamentary 'paper, ' whether it issues in the shape of a bulkyBlue-book--that is to say, as a thick, stitched folio volume, in adark-blue cover--or as a mere 'paper'--an uncovered folio of a singlesheet of two or four pages, or several stitched together, but notattaining the dignity of the blue cover--is marked as belonging to acertain class; and when the issue of the session is complete, a fullset of 'Titles, Contents, and Indexes' to the whole is supplied, sothat they can all be classified and bound up in due order with theutmost ease and celerity. The _Titles, Contents, and Indexes to theSessional Printed Papers of Session_ 1851 are at present before us, inthe shape of a folio Blue-book about an inch and a half thick, fromwhich we think we may pick some facts of interest. 

It must be premised, that the session 1851 was considered bypoliticians a peculiarly barren and unfruitful one, as the GreatExhibition, in conjunction with ministerial difficulties, and themonster debates on the Ecclesiastical Titles' Bill, tended greatly toimpede the ordinary business of the Houses, and gave an air of tediumand languor to the whole proceedings. Nevertheless, the papers for theyear amount to no less than sixty volumes! Of these, the first sixcontain Public Bills. A bill, as most of our readers must be aware, isa measure submitted to the consideration of parliament with the viewof its being adopted into the legal code of the country, for which itmust receive the sanction of both Houses and the assent of the crown. When a bill has 'passed' through the Lords and Commons, and receivedthe royal assent, it becomes an 'act'--that is, a law. A bill, inpassing through the Houses, is subjected to numerous amendments andalterations in form, and is often printed, for the use of members andother parties interested, three or four times after such alterations, before it comes forth in its final and permanent form as an act. Thus, the famous Ecclesiastical Titles' Bill is to be found in three severalshapes among the bills before it reappears for the fourth time as anact. Again, the word 'public' prefixed to these six volumes of bills, reminds us of the vast amount of business that comes before parliamentand its committees in the shape of 'private' bills, of which no recordappears here. These are bills of special and individual application, such as when a public company seeks an act of incorporation, thepossessor of an entailed estate desires to sell a portion of ground, a railway directory asks for powers of various kinds, and so on. 

An examination of the contents of these six volumes would shew howmany and diverse are the subjects that turn up in parliament in thecourse of a single and brief session; but to enter on itsatisfactorily would require a great amount of space, and might, afterall, be more tedious than profitable. A glance at those actuallypassed may suffice. These were 106 in number: the first is, 'An Act toamend the Passengers' Act of 1849;' and the hundred and sixth, 'An Actto appoint Commissioners to inquire into the Existence of Bribery inSt Albans. ' Besides the acts of an ordinary or routine character, wefind the following among the subjects legislated on:--The MarineForces, Leases for Mills in Ireland, Protection of Original Designs, the Protection of Servants and Apprentices, the Sale of Arsenic, Highways in Wales, Sites for Schools, Herring-Fishery, Prisons inScotland, Common Lodging-Houses, Window and House Duties, Marriages inIndia, Ecclesiastical Titles, Smithfield Market, Settlement of theBoundaries of Canada and New Brunswick, Highland Roads and Bridges, Gunpowder Magazine at Liverpool, Management of the Insane in India, Lands in New Zealand, Representative Peers of Scotland, Emigration, Law of Evidence, Criminal Justice, &c. 

Following the six volumes of bills, are fifteen volumes of _Reportsfrom Committees_, which are again succeeded by nine volumes of_Reports from Commissioners_. These two sections of the literature ofparliament form vast stores of material on an immense number ofsubjects, into which he who digs laboriously is sure to be rewarded inthe end. They contain great masses of 'evidence, ' extracted by theexaminations of committees and commissioners from the parties believedto be best qualified to give correct and full information on thevarious subjects on which they are examined, and these opinions aresupported by facts and authentic statements and statistics, invaluableto the investigator. The first volume of last year's Reports fromCommittees opens with that on the Edinburgh Annuity Tax, the fifteenthcontains that on Steam Communications with India. There are fourvolumes on Customs, two on Ceylon, one on Church-rates, one on theCaffre Tribes, one on Newspaper Stamps, &c. ; while other volumescontain Reports on the Property Tax, the Militia, the Ordnance Survey, Public Libraries, Law of Partnership, &c. From commissioners, we haveReports on Fisheries, Emigration, National Gallery, Public Records, Board of Health, Factories, Furnaces, Mines and Collieries, Education, Maynooth College, Prisons, Public Works, &c. 

The fourth section of these parliamentary papers for 1851 amounts tothirty volumes, and consists of _Accounts and Papers_. It is in thesethat the statist finds inexhaustible wealth of material, long columnsof figures with large totals, tables of the most complicated yet theclearest construction, containing a multiplicity of details bearing onthe riches and resources of the empire in its most general and mostminute particulars. Thus the first volume relates to 'Finance, ' andincludes the accounts of the Public Income and Expenditure, Public andNational Debt, Income Tax, Public Works, and a vast variety of othersubjects. The second volume is made up of the 'Estimates' for theArmy, Navy, Ordnance, and 'Civil Services, ' which includes PublicWorks, Public Salaries, Law and Justice, Education, Colonial andConsular Services, &c. The third volume is filled with Army and NavyAccounts and Returns. The next six volumes refer to the colonies, andconsist of Accounts, Dispatches, Correspondence. The tenth is occupiedwith the subject of Emigration; and the eleventh with the Governmentof our Eastern Empire in all its vast machinery and complicatedrelations. The remaining volumes--for space would fail us to enumeratethem in detail--treat of such subjects as the Census, Education, Convict Discipline, Poor, Post-office, Railways, Shipping, Quarantine, Trade and Navigation Returns, Revenue, Population and Commerce, Piracy, the Slave Trade, and Treaties and Conventions with ForeignStates. Last of all, as volume sixty of the set, we have the_Numerical List and General Index_, itself a goodly tome of nearly 200pages, compiled with immense care, and arranged so perspicuously as toafford the utmost facilities for reference. 

These papers, as we have said, differ greatly in size. Some consist ofbut a single page, others swell up to volumes two or three inchesthick, and of perhaps 2000 pages. As to the contents, the majoritydisplay a mixture of letterpress with tabular matter; and while someare wholly letterpress, others present an alarming and endless arrayof figures--filing along, page after page, in irresistible battalions. In many, valuable maps and plans are incorporated, with occasionaldesigns for public works, &c. 

Besides these returns and papers of permanent value, there are dailyissued during the session programmes of the business of the day, entitled _Votes and Proceedings_, and containing a list of thesubjects, the motions, petitions, bills, &c. , that are to be broughtbefore the House, according to 'the orders of the day. ' These, and allthe other papers issued by parliament, may be obtained regularlythrough 'all the booksellers, ' by any person desiring to have them. Their prices are fixed; and in the case of the larger papers, theprice is printed on the back of each. Copies of bills and returns maybe had separately, on payment of these affixed prices; and indeed fewparties require complete sets. Some public libraries take them, as domost of the London, and one or two provincial newspapers, by which thegentlemen of the press are enabled to compile the numerous articlesand paragraphs with which all newspaper readers are familiar, andwhich usually begin: 'By a return just issued, we learn, ' &c. ; or:'From a parliamentary paper recently printed, it appears, ' &c. Thepublic is often considerably indebted to the labours of newspaper menin regard to these papers, for the exigence of space, and thenecessity of beating everything into a readable shape, require them tocondense the voluminous details of the returns; and their sum andsubstance is thus given without any encumbering extraneous matter. 

The cost of complete series of the papers varies from session tosession, according to the number issued, ranging usually about L. 12 orL. 14. 

LIGHTS FOR THE NIGHT. 

Unquestionably, darkness is disagreeable. Whether to manhoodhoary-headed in wisdom, or to childhood yet in soft-brained ignorance, darkness is an unpleasant fact, to be got over in the best waypossible--to be got over at all events, and at any cost, and to beturned into luminosity by every expedient that can be used. Wax-tapers, to throw their soft, luxurious light on my lady's delicateface, as she lies like a beautiful piece of marble-work on her dreamycouch; shaded lamps for the grave merchant, the virtual king of thepresent, as he sits in his still office, ruling nations by bale andbond, and guiding the tide of events by invoices and ship's papers;Palmer's candles, under green pent-houses, for students and authors, whose eyes must withstand a double strain; the mild house-light, witha dash of economy in the selection, whether of oil, sperm, long-fours, or short-sixes, for the family group; the white camphene flame for theartist: strange mechanisms for the curious; the flaunting brilliancyof the coloured chandeliers and cut-glass shades for our EnglishBedouins in the gin-palace; the flaring jet of the open butchers'shops; the paper-lantern of the street-stalls; the consumptive dip ofthe slop-worker; the glimmering rush-light for the sick-room; theresin torch for the midnight funeral: these, and countless otherinventions--not to mention the universal gas--assert man'sdisinclination to transact his life in the dark, or to bound hispowers by the simple arrangements of nature. There are better lights, though, than any of these, and a worse than mere physical night, be itthe blackest with which romancer ever stained his innocent paper, whendescribing those dark deeds on desolate moors which all romancersdelight in, and which send young ladies pale to bed. The night of themind is worse than the night of time; and lamps which can dispel thisare more valuable than any which make up for the loss of the sun only, though these are grand undertakings too. 

Most people know what a Child's night-light is, and most people haveheard of Belmont Wax, and Price's Patent Candles, though few would beable to explain exactly what the warrant guards. But who ever pretendsto understand patents? The 'Belmont' every one knows; it is a mereordinary wax-candle, which perhaps does not 'gutter' so much asothers, and with wick more innocent of 'thieves' than most, but withnothing more wonderful in appearance than an ordinary candle. AChild's night-light, too, has nothing mysterious in its look. Itgreatly resembles the thick stumpy end of a magnificent mould, done upin a coloured card-jacket, and with a small thin wick, that gives justa point of flame, and no more, by which to light another candle, ifnecessary--of admirable service for this and all other purposes of acommon-place bedroom. Eccentric sleepers, who write Greek hexameters, and fasten on poetic thoughts while the rest of the world are inrational slumber, might object to the feebleness of this point oflight; but eccentricities need provisions of their own, and cometshave orbits to which the laws of the stars do not apply. For allordinary people, this thick candle-end is a delicious substitute forthe ghastly rush-light in its chequered cage, which threw strangefigures on wall and curtain, and gave nervous women the megrims. Butnothing more is known of Belmonts or night-lights; their birthplace, and the manner of their making, are alike hidden from the outer world;the uninitiated accept the arcana of tallow only in the positive form. It is generally presumed that candles, in the abstract, come from someunknown place in 'the City;' but how they are made, or who is employedin their making, or how the workmen live in the grease-laden steam ofthe factory, not one in a thousand would know if he could certainlynone would give himself any trouble to find out. Neither should weourselves have known, had not a little pamphlet, bearing the heading, _Special Report by the Directors to the Proprietors of Price's PatentCandle Company_, fallen into our hands. Holding the Report open on thedesk before us, we will now give to our readers the net result of themoral doings of the factory. 

In the winter of 1848, half-a-dozen of the boys employed in the candlemanufactory used to hide themselves behind a bench two or three timesa week, when work and tea were over, to practise writing on uselessscraps of paper picked up anyhow, and with worn-out pens begged fromthe counting-house. Encouraged by the foreman of their department, whobegged some rough, movable desks for them, and aided by timely but notoppressive prizes from the Messrs Wilson, and by the presence of Mr J. P. Wilson, the little self-constituted school progressed considerably, until it reached the number of thirty; then a large old building wascleared out, a rickety wooden staircase taken down, an iron one put upin its stead, and a lofty school-room, capable of holding about 100 ormore, made in the place of two useless lumber-rooms. The making andfurnishing that room amounted to L. 172. The school for some time heldto its first principles of self-government. All the instruction, discipline, and management were supplied by the boys themselves; andwhen a number of elder boys joined, a committee, appointed bythemselves, regulated the affairs of the community. However, this didnot last long. The hot young blood and immature young brain needed astronger curb than self-appointed committees could supply; and by ageneral request, the school has since been worked by authority--thisauthority itself guided by a general vote in many matters of choiceimmediately concerning the scholars. In the following summer--we arestill in '48--a day-school was held in the room, to which the youngerboys who were wanted in the factory at uncertain times and forindefinite periods, were sent when not employed--drafted from schoolto work, and from work to school, as the necessities of the factoryrequired. The annual cost of this day-school is L. 130; the total costfrom the commencement, L. 327. 

Amusements must now be provided. The first and most obvious weretea-parties, the usual rewards to school-children, and often made verytedious affairs by the enormous quantity of talk inflicted on them. However, Mr Wilson managed better. To the first, many of the boys camedirty and untidy; the second shewed a great improvement; the third, one still greater; until now, most of the factory-boys assemble tochapel, and other places where they ought to be decent, in plain suitsof black, which give them a neat and even gentlemanlike appearance:yes, though the word applied to a set of factory-boys, candlemakers, may make many of our readers smile. But for all that constitutes realgentlemanlike feeling for order, obedience to authority, courtesy ofmanner, the absence of rudeness, quarrelling, and other petty vices ofschool-boys--these factory lads, taken from the very heart of a lowpopulation, shine pre-eminently, or rather have shone, since Mr Wilsonhas taken their educational training so much to heart. The firsttea-party was held on Easter-Monday, as a counterpoise to theattractions of Greenwich and Camberwell fairs; and it succeeded inthat object, evidencing that vice is not that necessary ingredient inthe pleasures of the people which some people think. 

In 1849, the cholera came, peculiarly severe about Lambeth andBattersea Fields, where many of the candlemakers lived. Mr Wilson'sfirst thought was for the young people in the factory. He consultedwith his brother, and they took additional counsel of first-ratemedical men, and then added to the committee a Mr Symes, a gentlemanholding a field that was waiting to be built on. The result of theseconsultations was, that Mr Symes giving them temporary possession ofthe field, the night-school was closed entirely, and all the boys setto work to learn cricket--cricket as the best antidote to cholera thedirectors of Price's Patent could devise. Wise men these directors, with some sterling common sense and rare old hearty benevolence mixedup with their generous Saxon blood! Mr Symes was not the onlystranger--for stranger he was--eager to help the directors. A MrGraham came forward, and many others joined in offering; andaltogether, as Mr J. P. Wilson says, 'everybody's heart seemed to warmup to their object. ' The plan was a success. Of the whole crowd ofcricket-players, only one, an interesting lad of seventeen, was lost, though most of them had kinspeople dying and dead in their own homes. That cricket-ground was not, however, useful only for physical health;it presented a beautiful and striking scene, which must have carriedhome to every heart deep thoughts and holy purposes to strengthen thesoul as well. 

'Always when the game was finished, ' says Mr Wilson, 'they (the boys)collected in a corner of the field, and took off their caps for a veryshort prayer for the safety of themselves and their friends fromcholera; and the tone in which they said their amen to this, hasalways made me think, that although the school was nominally given upfor the time, they were really getting from their game, so concluded, more moral benefit than any ordinary schooling could have given them. 'This belief we heartily endorse. That informal prayer, made while theblood was warm with happiness and high with health, spoken in the openfield, by themselves, direct to Heaven, without other interpreterbetween them, must have made a deep impression on the boys. Its veryinformality must have added to its solemnity; making it appear, andindeed making it in reality, so much more the genuine, spontaneous, heart-spoken expression of each individual, than the mere customaryattendance on a prescribed form can admit. A field of six and a halfacres is now rented, at the annual gross cost of L. 80, the middle ofwhich is kept for the cricket-ground, while the edges are laid down ingardens, allotted out. 

During all the bright summer weather the boys worked eagerly at theirgardens, and played perseveringly at cricket--making a happy andhealthy use of time that otherwise must, if used well, have been spentin a dull school-room (not the most inviting of recreations, after ahard day's work at the candle-making), or idled away in the streets, amongst the unprofitable and unhealthy amusements provided for thepeople. Amongst other good results, Mr Wilson notices that of'softening to the boys one of the greatest evils now existing in thefactory--the night-work, for which the men and boys come in at six inthe evening, to leave at six in the morning. ' These workers do not goto bed, it seems, so soon as they leave work: in former days, theygenerally dawdled about, took a walk, or strolled into a gin-palace, as it might happen, or did anything else to kill the time until theirsleeping-hour arrived. Since the cricket-ground has been established, however, they rush off to the field on leaving work at six in themorning, thoroughly enjoy themselves at gardening and cricket untilabout a quarter past eight; and then, after collecting in a littleshed, where a verse or two of the New Testament and the Lord's Prayerare read to them, they go home to sleep, refreshed by the exerciseafter their unnatural hours, happy, peaceful, and healthy. These arethe birches and canes of the Messrs Wilson's moral and scholastictraining!

Then came the summer-excursion. The first experiment was in June 1850, when 100 of them went down to Guildford early in the morning, andreturned late in the evening. It was a beautiful day, bright andcloudless; and as those London boys wandered about the country lanesand meadows of Guildford, and heard the ceaseless hum of insect life, and the uncaged birds singing high in the blue sky, and saw thewild-flowers in the hedgerows, and the glancing waters in their way, we may be sure that more than mere enjoyment was stored up in theirminds, and that thoughts which might not be brought out into setphrases, but which would be undying in their influence through life, were raised in each heart that drank in the glories and the holyteaching of nature, perhaps on that day for the first time. It wassomething for them to think of in the toil and heat of the factory; abeautiful picture, to fill their minds while their hands were busy attheir work; and the rippling rivers and singing birds would sing andflow again and again in many a young head bending carefully over itstask. The excursion of the next year was on a grander scale: 250started from Vauxhall Bridge, to go down the river to Herne Bay, which, though it may sound ludicrously Cockneyfied, was quite as muchas the strength, and more than the stomachs of the little candlemakerscould stand; yet very delightful, notwithstanding the qualmishness andface-playing of the majority. This year, they are all invited by theBishop of Winchester to the brave old castle of Farnham--a treat towhich they are looking forward with all the headlong eagerness ofyouth, and which, we trust, will have other and even better resultsthan the pleasures we wish them. A bishop entertaining a set offactory children will be a welcome sight in these days of clericalpomp, when the episcopal purple so often hides the pastoral staff. Itwill be a rare occurrence, but a good practice begun--to be followed, we would fain hope, by its like in other districts. 

The expense of the day at Guildford was L. 28; of that at Herne Bay, L. 48; the estimated expense of the excursion for the present year isL. 55. This seems a heavy item for a single day's amusement, but theMessrs Wilson have proved the immense advantage which their boysderive from these excursions: the hope, the stimulus to exertion--asonly those who have worked hard at school, and behaved well generally, join the cricket-club and the excursionists--the health, the incentiveto good conduct, and the preservation from evil habits; all thesevaried good effects have convinced the directors that it is money wellspent--money that will bring in a richer percentage than governmentsecurities or Australian gold-fields could give, for it brings in thepercentage of virtue. Not always in the power of money to gain that!And right thankful ought we to be, when we have found any investmentwhatever which will return us such rich usurious interest for what isin itself so intrinsically valueless. 

So much, then, for the Belmont Factory--for the light of that busywax-candle making. Turn we now to the Night-Light Factory, though ournotice of this must be brief; but brevity befits those thick, shortcandle-ends. 

In the autumn of 1849, the night-light trade came into the possessionof Price's Patent Candle Company. Amongst the Child's Lights we havegirls to deal with as well as boys--an element not to be provided forin the Belmont arrangements, and causing a little difficulty as totheir proper disposition on first starting. But nothing seems to dauntMr Wilson. Give him but a square inch for his foothold, and his morallever will raise any given mass of ignorance, and remove any possibleamount of obstruction. After a little time, and some expense, one ofthe railway arches near the night-factory was taken possession of, fitted up, made water-tight, and turned into a school-room for theboys and girls of the adopted concern. The expense of preparing andfurnishing that arch was L. 93. Still, the girls remained as a doubtfuland untried version of the Belmont success; but by the energetic aidof a lady, much experienced in such matters, and by the untiring caresof a chaplain recently appointed to the factory, and who is in realitythe moral and educational superintendent of the whole, something ofthe uncertainty hanging over the result has been removed, and allmatters have greatly improved. Inasmuch as the character of women isof more delicate texture than that of men, so are the managers of theNight-Light School more careful to secure an unexceptionable set ofgirls in the school, that prudent parents may send their childrenthere without alarm, and without more danger of contamination thanmust always arise where a number of human beings, adults or youths, are assembled together. 

Everything seems prospering. Church-organs in the school-rooms, chapel-services at various times as the different sets of workmen comeand go, and flourishing schools for the mere child up to the actualyoung man, supply all the spiritual, intellectual, and devotionalrequirements of the work-people; games, gardening, excursions, and ageneral friendliness between masters and people, form their socialhappiness; and useful arts taught and about to be taught, help to makeup the wellbeing of the community. Tailoring and shoemaking are to belearned, not as trades, but as domestic aids, many working-men havingfound the advantage, in various ways, of being able to do those littlerepairs at home which perishable garments are always requiring; and ashop full of young coopers employs another section of tradesmen inrather large numbers. For this last improvement, Mr J. Wilson wasobliged to take up his freedom of the city, that he might apprenticethe lads to himself, as it is a rule among the coopers that no onefollows this trade, which is a close one, without having learned it byregular apprenticeship. However, a freeman can take apprentices in anytrade, whether close or open, provided he does teach them a _bonâfide_ business; and Mr Wilson availed himself of this privilege, andnetted to himself a batch of young coopers, as we have said. So muchcan one earnest wish to be of real use to a cause or a generationenable a single individual to do! We may be sure that when we talk ofour inability to do good, we mean our inattention to means, not ourincapacity from want of them. 

The expenses we have quoted were all originally borne by Mr J. P. Wilson. In three years, he spent L. 3289 in payments to teachers, infitting up schools, in cricket-grounds, excursions, chaplain's salary, &c. His own salary is L. 1000 per annum. And though the proprietorshave refunded all moneys spent by him on these things, and have takenon themselves the future expenses of the institutions commenced byhim, yet that does not diminish the worth of his magnificentintentions, or take from the largeness of his self-sacrifice andgenerosity. Add to this simple expenditure--for it was made in goodfaith, and in the belief that it was a virtual sacrifice ofincome--the labour, want of rest, the constant thought at all timesand under all sorts of pressure--illness and business the mostfrequent--and we may form a slight estimate of what this glorious workof educating his young charge has cost a man whose name we must evermention with respect. 

In Mr J. Wilson's Report, there are many points unattainable tomoderate incomes and circumscribed resources, but many also that it isin the power of every man of education, and consequently of influence, to carry out in his neighbourhood. Amongst them is that simple item ofthe cricket-field and garden-ground. It has become so much the fashionamong certain of us, renowned more for zeal than knowledge, to crydown all amusements for the people, as tending to the subversion andoverthrow of morality, to shut them out from all but the church, theconventicle, and the gin-shop--that any recognition of this mistake ina more liberal arrangement, may be hailed as the inauguration of anera of common sense, and consequently of true morality. Amusements areabsolutely necessary for mankind. The nation never existed on thisearth which could dispense with them. Sects rise up every now and thenwhich carry their abhorrence of all that is not fanaticism--aftertheir own pattern--to the extreme, and which lay pleasure under thesame curse with vice; but sects are cometic, and are not to be judgedof after the generalisations of national character. Practically, wefind that rigidness and vice, amusements and morality, go together, Siamese-like. In the year of the Crystal Palace, the Londonmagistrates had fewer petty criminals brought before them than at anyother period of the same duration; and what Mr Wilson proves in hiscricket-ground, what London shewed in the time of the World's Fair, generations and countries would always exhibit in larger characters, more widely read--that the mind and body of man requireamusement--simple pleasure--purposeless, aimless, unintellectual, physical pleasure--as much as his digestive organs require food andhis hands work; not as the sole employment, but mixed in with, andforming the basis and the body of higher things--the strong practicalwoof through which the warp of golden stuff is woven into a gloriousfabric--a glorious fabric of national progression. Yes, and into awider garment still; one that will cover many an outlying Bedouincowering in the darkness round--one that will join together the highand the low, the good and the bad, and so knead up the baser elementinto amalgamation with and absorption into the higher. This is noideal theory. It is a possibility, a practical fact, proved in thisplace and in that--wherever men have taken the trouble to act onrational bases and on a true acceptation of the needs of human nature. For as the quality of light is to spread, and as the higher thingswill always absorb the lower, so will schools and kindly sympathydiffuse knowledge and virtue among the ignorant and brutalised; andLove to Humanity will once more read its mission in the salvation of aworld. 

OUT-OF-DOORS LIFE IN CENTRAL EUROPE. 

The out-of-doors life enjoyed by the inhabitants of the continent, strikes a person, unacquainted with their habits and manners, moreperhaps than anything which meets his eye in that part of the world. Rational, agreeable, and healthy as it is, it requires a long timebefore a thorough Englishman can accustom himself to it, or feel atall comfortable in eating his meals in the open air, surrounded by twoor three hundred persons employed in the same manner, or crossing andrecrossing, and circling round his table. He is apt to fancy himselfthe sole object of curiosity; while, in reality, the eyes which seemto mark him out, have in them perhaps as little speculation as if theywere turned on vacancy. We have been amused, and sometimes ashamed, inwitnessing the painful awkwardness of many of those numeroussteam-boat voyagers who, subscribing in London for their passage toand from the Rhine in a given time, and for a trifling sum, findthemselves in a few hours transported from the bustle of OxfordStreet, Ludgate Hill, or the Strand, to the happy, idle, _fat_, laughing, easy enjoyment of a German _Thee-Garten_, in the midst offour or five hundred men, women, and children--all eating, drinking, and smoking as if time, cares, and business had no influence overthem. It is a life so new to him, and so diametrically opposed to allhis habits and notions, that, in general, it affords him anything butease and enjoyment. To those, however, who know how to enjoy it, itaffords both. There is in these popular reunions an ease andconfidence, a _bonhomie_ and freedom, of which a Briton, with all hisboasted liberty, has no idea. What is strangest of all to him, nodistinction of rank, wealth, or profession is acknowledged. There areno reserved places. The rich and the poor, the prince and the artisan, sit down at the same kind of modest little green-painted tables, withrush-bottomed chairs, all kind, affable, and jovial--all respectingeach other. The child of the citizen comes up without restraint, andplays with the sword-knot of the commander-in-chief; and the littleprincess will naïvely offer her bunch of grapes to the peasant whosits at the next table with his pipe and his tall glass of Bavarianbeer. And yet the truest decorum is observed. There is no noise, norioting, no intoxication; we have never witnessed a single example ofany of these inconveniences. The education and habits of all theinhabitants of this part of the world, have been from infancy soregulated, and during many generations so completely formed to thissort of life, that not the smallest ungracious familiarity evertroubles these kindly popular reunions. 

But let us come to a definite description. We will take theBlum-Garten at Prague, for example--a city where the aristocracy areas exclusive, as it is called, as anywhere in the world. This garden, or rather park, is an imperial domain, having formed part of thehunting-park of the emperors of Germany in the beginning of thefourteenth century. It was planted by the great and good Charles IV. , king of Bohemia, and emperor of Germany, son of that blind king whowas killed at the battle of Cressy by Edward the Black Prince. Thispark is situated without the fortifications of the Hradschin, at abouthalf an hour's walk from them, in a valley formed by the river Moldau, and stretches away to the plateau which forms the eastern boundary ofthe valley. On the edge of this plateau, surrounded by gardens andplantations, is situated the Lust-Haus, or summer residence, in whichthe governor of Bohemia, or the members of the imperial family inPrague, pass some days at intervals during the summer months. Theprincipal descent to the park is by a broad drive, which zig-zags tillit gains the proper level. There are also several pleasant paths whichdescend in labyrinths under a profusion of lilacs and other floweringshrubs, overhung by birches and all kinds of forest-trees. 

At the foot of the drive is the house of general entertainment, consisting of several apartments, together with a spaciousball-room--an indispensable requisite, as on the continent all theworld dances. From this house stretches a long wide gravel space, completely shaded from the noonday heat by four or five vast lime-treealleys, beneath which are placed some fifty or a hundred tables. Amilitary band is always to be found on fête-days, and very good musicof some kind is never wanting. Here the whole population of Praguecircle with perfect freedom, and with no attempt at class separations. The first comer is first served, taking any vacant place most suitedto his fancy, or to the convenience of his party. At one table may beseen the Countess Grünne, her governess, and children, taking theircoffee with as much ease and simplicity as if she were in her ownprivate garden; at another, a group of peasants, with their smilingfaces and picturesque costumes; at a third table, a soldier and hisold mother and sister, whom he is treating on his arrival in hisnative town. Then come the Archduke Stephen, with his imperialretinue, and one or two general-officers with their staffs; and at alittle distance, with a merry party of laughing guests, the Prince andPrincess Coloredo. In short, all the tables are by and by occupied byguests continually succeeding each other, of all classes and of allprofessions, from the imperial family, down to the most humbleartisan; all gay, amiable, condescending on the one side; happy, respectful, and free from restraint on the other. Thus the seasonpasses in that delicious climate, which is rendered a thousand timesmore delicious by the harmony and good-feeling reigning throughout allthese mingled classes of society. In the evening, the same joyousreunions again take place, with this exception, that after dinner(which meal takes place generally from three to four, _very rarely_ solate as six, and that only within the last three or four years) thearistocracy drive round the broad shady alleys of the park tillsunset, while the lawns and paths are crowded with innumerable groupsof pedestrians, before or after taking their evening repast under thelime-trees. 

But what makes summer life so agreeable in these countries, is thesimplicity and cheapness with which every variety of necessaryrefreshment and restoration is afforded, and the multiplicity ofplaces where such are to be found. Walk in whatever direction you may, in the environs of any town--wherever there is shade, wherever thereis a grove, or a clump of acacias, limes, or chestnuts, the favouritetrees for such purposes, and consequently much cultivated--there youare sure to find rest and refreshment suited to the wants and pursesof all classes--from the most simple brown bread, milk, and beer, tothe most delicate sweetmeats and wines. In the article of wine, however, Bohemia is not so favoured; but this is a circumstance morefelt by the stranger than by the natives, who like the wines of theirown country, as they do the beer better than our ale and porter. Still, there are some passably good wines, such as Melnik, Czerniska, and one or two others, and all at a moderate price, varying from 8d. To 1s. A bottle. But in Hungary we have good wines and extraordinarilycheap, which adds much to these rural out-of-doors reunions. It istrue, that some of the most fashionable restaurateurs, both in thetown and country, have been much spoiled by the extravagance of thehigher classes, who are here the most reckless; carrying this vice inEurope to an excess which has ruined, or greatly embarrassed, almostall the nobility of the kingdom. Notwithstanding this passion, however, for everything that is foreign, few countries can be at allcompared with Hungary as to its wines, many of which are scarcelyknown to any but to the peasants who grow them, and the localconsumers of the same class. These wines, with which every peasant'shouse, especially on the skirts of the mountain-districts, and everylittle bothy-like public-house, are abundantly furnished, are both redand white, and at a price within the reach of the poorest peasant. Even in and about the great towns--such as Presburg, near the frontierof Austria--where every article of food is double and treble the priceof the interior--the wines cost no more than from 2d. To 3d. A quart. Most of the peasants grow their own, and make from 50 to 200, and even1500 eimers or casks, containing 63 bottles each; and this is not likemany of the poor, thin, acid wines, known in so many parts of Germany, the north of France, and other countries; but strong, generousbeverage, with a delicious flavour, perfectly devoid of acidity, andat the same time particularly wholesome. Many of the white wines weprefer to the generality of those from the Rhine, Moselle, &c. ; thered has a kind of Burgundy flavour, with a sparkling dash ofchampagne, and is nearly as strong as port, without its heatingqualities. 

For the sake of these agreeable and cheap enjoyments, the whole of thepopulation of the towns pass a great part of the summer in the woods, orchards, and gardens in the neighbourhood, where every want of thetable is supplied without the trouble of marketing, cooking, orfiring; and, consequently, in the cool of a summer morning, theinhabitants of Presburg, for instance, may be seen strolling indifferent directions--either ascending the vine-covered hills to thefresh tops, or wending their way through the deep, shady woods, alongthe side of the Danube, to the Harbern or the Alt Mülau. There, afterhaving sharpened their appetites with this charming walk, they findthemselves seated at a neat little table, beneath the shade of an oldchestnut or elm. The cloth is laid by the vigilant host as soon as theguest is seated, and often before, as the former knows his hour; fornothing in machinery can equal the regularity with which meal-hoursare ordered, especially in Germany, where the habitual greeting on theroad is: 'Ich wünsche guten appetit'--(I wish you a good appetite. )Coffee, wine, eggs, butter, sausages, Hungarian and Italian, theoriginal dimensions of which are often two feet long, and four to fiveinches thick: these are to be found at the most humble houses ofresort, among which are those frequented by the foresters andgamekeepers, not professed houses of entertainment, yet alwaysprovided with such materials for those who love the merry greenwood, and who extend their walks within their cool and solitary depths. Andnow we must speak of the expenses of these rural repasts. A party offive persons can breakfast in the above manner--that is to say, oncoffee, eggs; sausages, rolls, butter, and a quart bottle of wine--forsomething less than 4-1/4d. A head. Those who breakfast more simply, take coffee and rolls--and the natives rarely, if ever, eat butter inthe morning, though a profusion of this, as well as of oil and lard, enters into the preparation for dinner--and such guests pay only from3d. To 3-1/2d. But if wine, which is the most common nativeproduction, is taken instead of coffee, it is always cheaper. Amongthe middle and lower classes, the favourite refreshment is wine, household bread, and walnuts; and thus you will constantly findlabourers, foresters, or wood-cutters, joyfully breakfasting together, with their large slices of brown bread and a bottle of wine, for 2d. Ahead. Many, again, of the lower classes of labourers bring their ownhome-baked bread in their pockets, and get their large tumbler of goodwine to moisten it for a half-penny. 

The evening, however, is the great time for recreation and redoubledenjoyment, as the labours and occupations of the day have then ceased;and all without exception, rich and poor, flock from the town to thesweet, cool, flowery repose of the woods and vineyards, and there taketheir evening repast in the midst of the wild luxuriance of nature, 'health in the gale, and fragrance on the breeze. ' And when the sun isgone down, they return in the cool twilight to their homes, where theyfind that sweet sleep which movement in the open air alone can give, and which, with our more confined British habits, few but the peasantever enjoy. 

A word more on Presburg, and we have done. In winter, this place, solittle known to travellers, is frequented by the best society inHungary; and it becomes a little metropolis, to which many of thenobility resort from the distance of 300 to 500 miles--from Tokay, andbeyond the Theiss and Transylvania. In summer, perhaps, it offersstill more enjoyment; for although the winter society is thenscattered far and near, the town is always animated by the presence ofthose who are continually coming and going between Pesth and all partsof the south of Hungary and Vienna, conveyed either by the railway orby the numerous steam-boats which daily ply on the Danube. Theneighbourhood, as We have already mentioned, is full of simple andhealthy enjoyments, from the number of its delicious drives and walks, and places of rural entertainment, the quaint names of some of whichcannot fail to amuse and attract the stranger. At about half an hour'sdrive from the town is the Chokolaten-Garten, much frequented for itsexcellent chocolate, which is manufactured on the spot. A littlefurther on, and situated in the centre of one of the most beautifullittle valleys of the Kleine Karpathen, is the Eisen-Brundel, a largehouse of entertainment, with a spacious dancing-room; and, without, aluxuriant grove of fine old trees, forming an impenetrable shelter, beneath which are arranged a number of tables and chairs. Here everyspecies of entertainment is to be found, from the most simple brownbread, milk, and fruits, to the most sumptuous champagne dinners; andthe prince and the peasant take their places without ceremony, as inthe olden time of Robin Hood and Little John--'all merry under thegreenwood tree. '

Numerous other and still more simple places of refreshment andenjoyment present themselves at every turn of those deliciousmountain-paths, which lead through the little valleys and hollows ofthe vineyards overlooking the town. One of the most agreeable is onthe summit of the hill, near the little chapel of St Mary, calledMarien Kirche, under the Kalvarienberg, and from which the eye looksover the whole town and the plain which stretches towards Pesth, andthrough which the Danube winds like a vast silver serpent, till it islost in the far woods and dim distance. Lower down, and still nearerthe town, in a little valley, is 'The Entrance to the New World!' Thehouse is deliciously situated half-way up a wooded hill crowned withpines, and clothed with rich orchards and vineyards; not far off, inanother little valley, are the Patzen-Häuser, with their orchards andgardens; and higher up we come to 'The Entrance to Paradise!' whence, as might be expected, there is a most superb view. This embraces thewhole plain so far as the eye can reach towards the east and south; onthe north it is bounded by the towering mountains of the GreatCarpathians, the haunt of bears and wolves, wild boars and stags; andto the west, between the valleys which are formed by the hills of thissmaller range of the same mountains, is seen the plain of Vienna, inthe midst of which can be distinguished in a clear day the tall spireof St Stephen, rising as if from the bosom of the imperial park whichconceals the capital. Beyond this towers the Neu-klosterberg, with itsvast monastery; and further to the left, like white broken clouds inthe blue horizon, are the snow-clad mountains of Steyer-mark (Styria. )

MY FIRST BRIEF. 

I had been at Westminster, and was slowly returning to my 'parlournear the sky, ' in Plowden Buildings, in no very enviable frame ofmind. Another added to the long catalogue of unemployed days andsleepless nights. It was now four years since my call to the bar, andnotwithstanding a constant attendance in the courts, I had hithertofailed in gaining business. God knows, it was not my fault! During mypupilage, I had read hard, and devoted every energy to the mastery ofa difficult profession, and ever since that period I had pursued arigid course of study. And this was the result, that at the age ofthirty I was still wholly dependent for my livelihood on the somewhatslender means of a widowed mother. Ah! reader, if as you ramblethrough the pleasant Temple Gardens, on some fine summer evening, enjoying the cool river breeze, and looking up at those half-monasticretreats, in which life would seem to glide along so calmly, if youcould prevail upon some good-natured Asmodeus to shew you the secretsof the place, how your mind would shudder at the long silent sufferingendured within its precincts. What blighted hopes and crushedaspirations, what absolute privation and heart-rending sorrow, whatgenius killed and health utterly broken down! Could the privatehistory of the Temple be written, it would prove one of the mostinteresting, but, at the same time, one of the most mournful booksever given to the public. 

I was returning, as I said, from Westminster, and wearily enough Ipaced along the busy streets, exhausted by the stifling heat of theVice-Chancellor's court, in which I had been patiently sitting sinceten o'clock, vainly waiting for that 'occasion sudden' of which ourold law-writers are so full. Moodily, too, I was revolving in my mindour narrow circumstances, and the poor hopes I had of mending them; sothat it was with no hearty relish I turned into the Cock Tavern, inorder to partake of my usual frugal dinner. Having listlesslydespatched it, I sauntered into the garden, glad to escape from thenoise and confusion of the mighty town; and throwing myself on a seatin one of the summer-houses, watched, almost mechanically, the rapidriver-boats puffing up and down the Thames, with their gay crowds ofholiday-makers covering the decks, the merry children romping over thetrim grass-plot, making the old place echo again with their joyousringing laughter. I must have been in a very desponding humour thatevening, for I continued sitting there unaffected by the mirth of theglad little creatures around me, and I scarcely remember anotherinstance of my being proof against the infectious high spirits ofchildren. Time wore on, and the promenaders, one after the other, leftthe garden, the steam-boats became less frequent, and gradually lightsbegan to twinkle from the bridges and the opposite shore. Still Inever once thought of removing from my seat, until I was requested todo so by the person in charge of the grounds, who was now going roundto lock the gates for the night. Staring at the man for a moment halfunconsciously, as if suddenly awaked out of a dream, I muttered a fewwords about having forgotten the lateness of the hour, and departed. To shake off the depression under which I was labouring, I turned intothe brilliantly-lighted streets, thinking that the excitement woulddistract my thoughts from their gloomy objects; and after walking forsome little time, I entered a coffee-house, at that period muchfrequented by young lawyers. Here I ordered a cup of tea, and took upa newspaper to read; but after vainly endeavouring to interest myselfin its pages, and feeling painfully affected by the noisy hilarity ofsome gay young students in a neighbouring box, I drank off my soberbeverage, and walked home to my solitary chambers. Oh, how dreary theyappeared that night!--how desolate seemed the uncomfortable, dirty, cold staircase, and that remarkable want of all sorts of conveniences, for which the Temple has acquired so great a notoriety! In fine, I wasfairly hipped; and being convinced of the fact, smoked a pipe ortwo--thought over old days and their vanished joys--and retired torest. I soon fell into a profound sleep, from which I arose in themorning much refreshed; and sallying forth after breakfast withgreater alacrity than usual, took my seat in court, and was beginningto grow interested in a somewhat intricate case which involved somecurious legal principles, when my attention was directed to an oldman, whom I had frequently seen there before, beckoning to me. Iimmediately followed him out of court, when he turned round and said:'I beg your pardon, Mr ----, for interrupting you, but I fancy you arenot very profitably engaged just now?'

I smiled, and told him he had stated a melancholy truth. 

'I thought so, ' answered he with a twinkle of his bright gray eye. 'Now'--and he subdued his voice to a whisper--'I can put a littlebusiness into your hands. No thanks, sir, ' said he, hastily checkingmy expressions of gratitude--'no thanks; you owe me no thanks; and asI am a man of few words, I will at once state my meaning. For manyyears, I have been in the habit of employing Mr ----' (naming aneminent practitioner); 'and feeling no great love for the profession, intrusted all my business to him, and cared not to extend myacquaintance with the members of the bar. Well, sir, I have animportant case coming on next week, and as bad luck will have it, T----'s clerk has just brought me back the brief, with theintelligence that his master is suddenly taken dangerously ill, andcannot possibly attend to any business. Here I was completely flung, not knowing whom to employ in this affair. I at length rememberedhaving noticed a studious-looking young man, who generally sat takingnotes of the various trials. I came to court in order to see whetherthis youth was still at his ungrateful task, when my eyes fell uponyou. Yes, young man, I had intended once before rewarding you for yourpatient industry, and now I have an opportunity of fulfilling thoseintentions. Do you accept the proposal?'

'With the greatest pleasure!' cried I, pressing his proffered handwith much emotion, quite unable to conceal my joy. 

'It is as I thought, ' muttered he to himself, turning to depart. Thensuddenly looking up, he requested my address, and wished megood-morning. 

How I watched the receding form of the stranger! how I scanned overhis odd little figure! and how I loved him for his great goodness! Icould remain no longer in court. The interesting property case hadlost all its attractions; so I slipped off my wig and gown, andhastened home to set my house in order for the expected visit. Aftercompleting all the necessary arrangements, I took down a law-book andcommenced reading, in order to beguile away the time. Two, threeo'clock arrived, and still no tidings of my client; I began almost todespair of his coming, when some one knocked at the outer-door; and onopening it, I found the old man's clerk with a huge packet of papersin his hand, which he gave me, saying his master would call thefollowing morning. I clutched the papers eagerly, and turned themadmiringly over and over. I read my name on the back, Mr ----, sixguineas. My eyes, I feel sure, must have sparkled at the goldenvision. Six guineas! I could scarcely credit my good-fortune. Afterthe first excitement had slightly calmed down, I drew a chair to thetable, and looked at the labour before me. I found that it was a muchentangled Chancery suit, and would require all the legal ability Icould muster to conquer its details. I therefore set myself vigorouslyto work, and continued at my task until the first gray streak of dawnwarned me to desist. Next day, I had an interview with the oldsolicitor, and rather pleased him by my industry in the matter. Well, the week slipped by, and everything was in readiness for theapproaching trial. All had been satisfactorily arranged between myselfand leader, a man of considerable acumen, and the eventful morning atlength arrived. I had passed a restless night, and felt ratherfeverish, but was determined to exert myself to the utmost, as, in allprobability, my future success hung on the way I should acquit myselfthat day of my duty. The approaching trial was an important one, andhad already drawn some attention. I therefore found the court rathercrowded, particularly by an unusual number of 'the unemployed bar, 'who generally throng to hear a maiden-speech. Two or three ordinarycases stood on the cause-list before mine, and I was anxiously waitingtheir termination, when my client whispered in my ear: 'Mr S---- (theQueen's counsel in the case) has this instant sent down to say, hefinds it will be impossible for him to attend to-day, as he isperemptorily engaged before the House of Lords. The common dodge ofthese gentry, ' continued he in a disrespectful tone. 'They never findthat it will be impossible to attend so long as the _honorarium_ isunpaid; afterwards---- Bah! Mere robbery, sir--taking the money, andshirking the work. However, as we cannot help ourselves, you must dothe best you can alone; for I fear the judge will not postpone thetrial any longer. Come, and have a dram of brandy, and keep yournerves steady, and all will go well. ' I need not say it required allhis persuasion to enable me to pluck up sufficient courage to fightthe battle, deserted as I now found myself by my leader; still, Iresolved to make the attempt. Presently the awful moment arrived, andI rose in a state of intense trepidation. The judge seeing a strangerabout to conduct the case, put his glass up to his eye, in order thebetter to make himself acquainted with my features, and at the sametime demanded my name. I shall never forget the agitation of thatmoment. I literally shook as I heard the sound of my own voiceanswering his question. I felt that a hundred eyes were upon me, readyto ridicule any blunder I might commit, and even now half enjoying mynervousness. For a minute, I was so dizzy and confused, that I foundit utterly impossible to proceed; but, warned by the deep-toned voiceof the magistrate that the court was waiting for me, I made adesperate effort at self-control, and commenced. A dead quietprevailed as I opened the case, and for a few minutes I went onscarcely knowing what I was about, when I was suddenly interrupted bythe vice-chancellor asking me a question. This timely little incidentin some measure tended to restore my self-possession, and I found Igot on afterwards much more comfortably; and, gradually warming withthe subject, which I thoroughly understood, finally lost alltrepidation, and brought my speech to a successful close. It occupiedat least two hours; and when I sat down, the judge smiled, and paid acompliment to the ability with which he was pleased to say I hadconducted the process, whilst at least a dozen hands were held out tocongratulate on his success the poor lawyer whom they had passed by insilent contempt a hundred times before. So runs life. Had I failedthrough nervousness, or any other accident, derisive laughter wouldhave greeted my misfortune. As it was, I began to have troops offriends. To be brief, I won the day, and from that lucky circumstancerose rapidly into practice. 

Years rolled on, and I gradually became a marked man in theprofession, gaining in due time that summit of a junior's ambition--asilk gown. I now began to live in a style of considerable comfort, andwas what the world calls a very rising lawyer, when I one day happenedto be retained as counsel in a political case then creating muchexcitement. I chanced to be on the popular side; and, from theexertions I made, found myself suddenly brought into contact with theleading men of the party in the town where the dispute arose. Theywere so well satisfied with my endeavours to gain the cause, as tooffer to propose me as a candidate for the representation of theirborough at the next vacancy. This proposition, after someconsideration, I accepted; and accordingly, when the general electiontook place, found myself journeying down to D----, canvassing thevoters, flattering some, consoling others, using the orthodoxelectioneering tricks of platform-speaking, treating, &c. Politics ranvery high just then, and the two parties were nearly balanced, so thatevery nerve was strained on each side to win the victory. All businesswas suspended. Bands of music paraded the streets, party flags wavedfrom the house windows, whilst gay rosettes fastened to thebutton-hole attested their wearer's opinions. All was noise, andexcitement, and confusion. At length the important hour drew near forclosing the polling-booths. Early in the morning, we were still in aslight minority, and almost began to despair of the day. All nowdepended on a few voters living at some distance, whose views couldnot be clearly ascertained. Agents from either side had beendespatched during the night to beat up these stragglers, and on theirdecision rested the final issue. Hour after hour anxiously passedwithout any intelligence. My opponents rubbed their hands, and lookedpleasant, when, about half an hour before the close of the poll, adusty coach drove rapidly into the town, and eight men, more or lessinebriated, rolled out to record their votes. The following morning, amidst the stillness of deep suspense, the mayor read the result ofthe election, which gave me a majority of three. Such a shout of joyarose from the liberals as quite to drown the hisses of the contendingfaction; and at length I rose, flushed with excitement, to returnthanks. This proved the signal for another burst of applause; and amidthe shouting and groaning, screaming and waving of hats, I lost allpresence of mind, and fell overcome into the arms of my nearestsupporters. 

 * * * * *

'Dear me, sir, you've been wandering strangely in your sleep. Herehave I been a-knocking at the door this half-hour. The shaving-wateris getting cold, and Mr Thomas is waiting yonder in the other room, togive you some papers he's got this morning. '

I rose, rubbed my eyes, wondered what it all meant. Ah, yes; there wasno mistaking the room and Mrs M'Donnell's good-natured Scotch voice. It was all a dream, and my imagination had magnified the thumping atthe door into the 'sweet music of popular applause. ' I fell back inbed, hid my face in the pillow, sighed over my short-lived glory, andfelt very wretched when my young clerk came smiling into the room. 'Here's some business at last, sir!' cried the boy with pleasure. 

To his astonishment, I looked carelessly at the papers, and found theyconsisted of 'a motion of course, ' which some tender-hearted attorneyhad kindly sent me. Heigh-ho! it was all to be done over again! Iflung the document on the ground in utter despair; but graduallyrecovering my temper, I at length took heart, and fell earnestly towork. At all events, this was a _real_ beginning; so I began to growreconciled to the ruin of my stately castle of cards. It was a cruelblow, though; and now, reader, you have learned how I came by MY FIRSTBRIEF. 

ELECTRO-BIOLOGY--(SO-CALLED. )

That the phenomena now so commonly exhibited under the above title, demand a careful examination, and, if possible, a distinctexplanation, will be readily admitted. It is clear that they ought notto be allowed to rest as materials for popular amusement, but shouldbe submitted to strict scientific inquiry. The theory which so boldlyascribes them to electric influence, should be strictly examined. Ifthis theory is found to be untenable, some important questions willremain to be considered; such as: May not the phenomena be explainedon physiological principles? and, Is it not probable that the meansemployed may have an injurious tendency?

The extent to which public attention has been excited by thephenomena, may be guessed by a glance at the advertising columns ofthe _Times_, and by placards meeting the eye in various parts of thecountry, announcing that, 'at the Mechanics' Institute, ' or elsewhere, experiments will be performed in 'electro-biology, ' when 'persons in aperfectly wakeful state' will be 'deprived of the powers of sight, hearing, and taste, ' and subjected to various illusions. Oneadvertiser professes to give 'the philosophy of the science;' anotherundertakes to 'reveal the secret, ' so as to enable _any_ person tomake the experiments; and another undertakes the cure of 'palsy, deafness, and rheumatism. ' Lectures on the topic, in London and in theprovincial towns, are now exciting great astonishment in the minds ofmany, and give rise to considerable controversy respecting the theoryand the _modus operandi_. 

It is on this latter point--the means by which the effects areproduced--that we would chiefly direct our inquiry, for we shall verybriefly dismiss the attempt to explain them by a vague charge ofcollusion or imposture. 

If this charge could be reasonably maintained, it would, of course, make all further remarks unnecessary, as our topic would then nolonger be one for scientific investigation, but could only be added tothe catalogue of fraud. It is possible that there may have been _some_cases of feigning among the experiments, but these do not affect thegeneral reality of the effects produced. So epilepsy and catalepsyhave been feigned; but these diseases are still found real in too manyinstances. We need not dwell on this point; for it may be safelyassumed, that all persons who have had a fair acquaintance with theexperiments of electro-biology (so-called), are fully convinced that, in a great number of cases, the effects seen are real and sincere, notsimulated. The question then remains: Are these effects fairlyattributed to 'electric' influence, or may they not be truly explainedby some other cause?

Before we proceed to consider this question, it will be well to givesome examples of the phenomena to which our remarks apply. We shallstate only such cases as we have seen and carefully examined. 

A. Is a young man well known by a great number of thespectators--unsuspected of falsehood--knows nothing of theexperimenter or of electro-biology, not even the meaning of the words. After submitting to the process employed by the lecturer--sittingstill, and gazing fixedly upon a small disk of metal for about aquarter of an hour--he is selected as a suitable subject. When told bythe experimenter that he cannot open his eyes, he seems to make aneffort, but does not open them until he is assured that he can do so. He places his hand upon a table--is told that he cannot take the handoff the table--seems to make a strong effort to remove it, but fails, until it is liberated by a word from the lecturer. A walking-stick isnow placed in his right hand, and he is challenged to strike theextended hand of the lecturer. He throws back the stick over hisshoulder, and seems to have a very good will to strike, but cannotbring the stick down upon the hand. He afterwards declares to all whoquestion him, that he 'tried with all his might' to strike the hand. A. Has certainly no theatrical talents; but his looks and gestures, when he is made to believe that he is exposed to a terrific storm, convey a very natural expression of terror. He regards the imaginaryflashes of lightning with an aspect of dismay, which, if simulated, would be a very good specimen of acting. In many other experimentsperformed upon him, the effects seem to be such as are quite beyondthe reach of any scepticism with regard to his sincerity. He cannotpronounce his own name--does not know, or at least cannot _tell_, thename of the town in which he lives--cannot recognise one face in theroom where scores of people, who know him very well, are now laughingat him. On the other side, we must state, that when a glass of wateris given to him, and he is told that it is vinegar, he persists insaying that he tastes water, and nothing else. This is almost the onlyexperiment that fails upon him. 

B. Is an intelligent man, upwards of thirty years of age, of nervoustemperament. His honesty and veracity are quite beyond all rationaldoubt. The numerous spectators, who have known him well for manyyears, are quite sure that if he has any will in the matter, it issimply to defeat the lecturer's purpose. However, after he hassubmitted himself to the process, the experiments made upon him provesuccessful. He is naturally a fluent talker, but now cannot, withoutdifficulty and stammering, pronounce his own name, an easymonosyllable--cannot strike the lecturer's hand--cannot rise from achair, &c. We may add, that he cannot be made to mistake water forvinegar. 

One more case. C. Is a tradesman, middle-aged, has no tendency tomysticism or imaginative reverie--knows nothing of 'mesmerism' or'electro-biology'--was never suspected of falsehood or imposition. Heproves, however, the most pliable of all the patients--the experimentssucceed with him to the fullest extent--his imagination and his sensesseem to be placed entirely under the control of the experimenter. Standing before a large audience, he is made to believe that he andthe lecturer are alone in the room. He cannot recognise his own wife, who sits before him. He cannot step from the platform, which is aboutone foot higher than the floor. When informed that his limbs are toofeeble to support him, he totters, and would fall if not held. Many ofthe experiments upon him, shewing an extreme state of mental andphysical prostration, are rather painful to witness, others areludicrous; for instance, he is made to believe that he is out amid thesnow in the depth of winter--he shivers with cold, buttons up hiscoat, beats the floor with his feet, brushes away the imaginedfast-falling flakes from his clothes, and almost imparts to thespectators a sympathetic feeling of cold by his wintry pantomime: thenhe is jocosely recommended not to stand thus shivering, but to makesnow-balls, and pelt the lecturer. Heartily, and with apparentearnestness, he acts according to orders. Next, he is made to believethat the room has no roof. --'You see the sky and the stars, sir?'--'Yes. ' 'And there, see, the moon is rising, very large and red, is it not?'--'Yes, sir. ' 'Very well: now you see this cord in my hand;we will throw it over the moon, and pull her down. ' He addresseshimself to the task with perfect gravity, pulls heartily. 'Down shecomes, sir! down she comes!' says the experimenter: 'mind your head, sir!'--and the deluded patient falls on the platform, as he imaginesthat the moon is coming down upon him. 

These instances will be sufficient for our purpose. We have given themas fair average examples of many others. If any reader still supposesthat these effects have all been mere acting and falsehood, we mustleave that reader to see and examine for himself as we have done. [4]For other readers who admit _the facts_ and want an explanation, weproceed to discuss the _modus operandi_. 

In the first place, then, we assert that _there is no proof whatever_that these effects depend upon any electric influence: there isabsolutely no evidence that the metallic disk, as an '_electric_'agent, has any connection with the results. On this point, we invitethe lecturers and experimenters who maintain that electricity is theagent in their process, to test the truth of our assertion, as theymay very easily. _Coeteris paribus_--all the other usual conditionsbeing observed, such as silence, the fixed gaze, monotony ofattention--let the galvanic disk be put aside, and in its place let asixpence or a fourpenny-piece be employed, or indeed any similar smallobject on which the eyes of the patient must remain fixed for theusual space of time, and we will promise that the experiments thusmade shall be equally successful with those in which the so-calledgalvanic disk is employed. The phenomena are physiological and notelectrical. 

Our conviction is, that the results proceed entirely from _imaginationacting with a peculiar condition of the brain_, and that thispeculiarly passive and impressible condition of the brain is inducedby the _fixed gaze_ upon the disk. These are the only agencies whichwe believe to be necessary, in order to give us an explanation of thephenomena in question. In saying so, however, we are aware that suchdata will seem to some inquirers insufficient to account for theeffects we have described. It may be said: 'We know that imaginationsometimes produces singular results, but can hardly see how itexplains the facts stated. ' We have only to request that suchinquirers, before they throw aside our explanation, will giveattention to a few remarks on the power of imagination in certainconditions. We propose, _1st_, To give some suggestions on this point;_2d_, To notice the relations of imagination with reason; and, _3d_, To inquire how far the physical means employed--the fixed gaze on thedisk--may be sufficient to affect the mental organ, the brain, so asto alter its normal condition. 

1. Our usual mode of speaking of imagination, is to treat it as theopposite of all reality. When we say, 'that was merely animagination, ' we dismiss the topic as not worthy of another thought. For all ordinary purposes, this mode of speaking is correct enough;but let us ask, Why is imagination so weak?--why are its suggestionsso evanescent? Simply because it is under the control of reason. Butif the action of reason could be suspended, we should then see howgreat, and even formidable, is the imaginative power. It is the mostuntiring of all our mental faculties, refusing to be put to rest evenduring sleep: it can alter the influence of all external agents--forexample, can either assist or prevent the effects of medicine--canmake the world a prison-house to one man, and a paradise toanother--can turn dwarfs into giants, and make various othermetamorphoses more wonderful than any described by Ovid; nay, theseare all insufficient examples of its power when left without control;for it can produce either health, or disease, or death!

To give a familiar instance of the control under which it is generallycompelled to act: You are walking home in the night-time, and somewithered and broken old tree assumes, for a moment, the appearance ofa giant about to make an attack upon you with an enormous club. Youwalk forward to confront the monster with perfect coolness. Why? Notbecause you are a Mr Greatheart, accustomed to deal with giants, butbecause, in fact, the illusion does not keep possession of your mindeven for a moment. Imagination merely suggests the false image; butmemory and reason, with a rapidity of action which cannot bedescribed, instantly correct the mistake, and tell you it is only theold elm-tree; so that here, and in a thousand similar instances, thereis really no sufficient time allowed for any display of the power ofimagination. 

A tale is told--we cannot say on what authority--which, whether it bea fact or a fiction, is natural, and may serve very well to shew whatwould be the effect of imagination if reason did not interfere. It issaid that the companions of a young man, who was very 'wild, ' hadfoolishly resolved to try to frighten him into better conduct. Forthis purpose, one of the party was arrayed in a white sheet, with alighted lantern carried under it, and was to visit the young man alittle after midnight, and address to him a solemn warning. Thebusiness, however, was rather dangerous, as the subject of thisexperiment generally slept with loaded pistols near him. Previously tothe time fixed for the apparition, the bullets were abstracted fromthese weapons, leaving them charged only with gunpowder. When thespectre stalked into the chamber, the youth instantly suspected atrick, and, presenting one of the pistols, said: 'Take care ofyourself: if you do not walk off, I shall fire!' Still stood thegoblin, staring fixedly on the angry man. He fired; and when he sawthe object still standing--when he believed that the bullet hadinnocuously passed through it--in other words, as soon as reasonfailed to explain it and imagination prevailed--he fell back upon hispillow in extreme terror. 

2. The point upon which we would insist is that, in the normalcondition of the mind and the body, the power of imagination is sogoverned, that a display of the effects it produces while under thecontrol of reason, can give us but a feeble notion of what its powermight be in other circumstances. To make this plain, we add a fewsuggestions respecting the nature and extent of the control exercisedby reason over imagination; and we shall next proceed to shew, that_the activity of reason is dependent upon certain physicalconditions_. 

We shall say nothing of a metaphysical nature respecting reason, butshall simply point to two important facts connected with its exercise. The _first_--that it suspends or greatly modifies the action of otherpowers--has already been noticed in our remarks on imagination; but wemust state it here in more distinct terms. We especially wish thereader to understand how wide and important is the meaning of theterms 'control' and 'overrule' as we use them when we say: 'reasoncontrols, or overrules, imagination!' When we say that, in nature, thelaws which regulate one stage of existence _overrule_ the laws ofanother and a lower stage, we do not intend to say that the latter areannulled, but that they are so controlled and modified in their courseof action, that they can no longer produce the effects which wouldtake place if they were left free from such control. A few exampleswill make our meaning plain. Let us contrast the operations ofchemistry with those of mechanism. In the latter, substances act uponeach other simply by pressure, motion, friction, &c. ; but inchemistry, affinities and combinations come into play, producingresults far beyond any that are seen in mechanics. On mechanicalprinciples, the trituration of two substances about equal in hardnessshould simply reduce them to powder, but in chemistry, it may producea gaseous explosion. Again--vegetable life overrules chemistry: theleaves, twigs, and branches of a tree, if left without life, would, when exposed to the agencies of air, light, heat, and moisture, bepartly reduced to dust and partly diffused as gas in the atmosphere. It is the vegetative life of the tree which controls both themechanical and the chemical powers of wind, rain, heat, andgravitation; and it is not until the life is extinct that theseinferior powers come into full play upon the tree. So, again, theanimal functions control chemical laws--take digestion, for example: avegetable cut up by the root and exposed to the air, passes through acourse of chemical decomposition, and _is_ finally converted into gas;but when an animal consumes a vegetable, it is not decomposedaccording to the chemical laws, but is digested, becomes chyle, and isassimilated to the body of the animal. It is obvious that animal lifecontrols mechanical laws. Thus, the friction of two inert substanceswears one of them away--the soft yields to the hard; but, on thecontrary, the hand of the labourer who wields the spade or the pickaxebecomes thicker and harder by friction. 

The bearing of these remarks upon our present point will soon beobvious: we multiply examples, in order to shew in what an importantsense we use the word _control_, with regard to the relation of reasonwith imagination. As we have seen, chemistry overrules the mechanicallaws; vegetation suspends the laws of chemistry; a superior departmentof animal life controls influences which are laws in a lowerdepartment; again, mind controls the effects of physical influences;and, lastly, one power of the mind controls, and in a great measuresuspends, the natural activity of another power--_reason controlsimagination_. A second fact with regard to the action of reason mustbe noticed--that _it requires a wakeful condition of the brain_. Somemay suppose that they have reasoned very well during sleep; but wesuspect that, if they could recollect their syllogisms, they wouldfind them not much better than Mickle's poetry composed during sleep. Mickle, the translator of the _Lusiad_, sometimes expressed his regretthat he could not remember the poetry which he improvised in hisdreams, for he had a vague impression that it was very beautiful. 'Well, ' said his wife, 'I can at least give you two lines, which Iheard you muttering over during one of your poetic dreams. Here theyare:

 "By Heaven! I'll wreak my woes Upon the cowslip and the pale primrose!"'

If we required proof that the operation of reason demands a wakefuland active condition of the brain, we might find it in the fact, thatall intellectual efforts which imply sound reasoning are preventedeven by a partial sleepiness or dreaminess. A light novel may be readand enjoyed while the mind is in an indolent and dreamy state; musicmay be enjoyed, or even composed, in the same circumstances, becauseit is connected rather with the imaginative than with the logicalfaculty; but, not to mention any higher efforts, we cannot play a gameof chess well unless we are 'wide awake. '

Now we come to our point:--Supposing that, by any means, the brain canbe deprived of that wakefulness and activity which is required for afree exercise of the reasoning powers, then what would be the effecton the imagination? For an answer to this query, we shall not refer tothe phenomena of natural sleep and dreaming, because it is evidentthat the subjects of the experiments we have to explain are not in astate of natural sleep; we shall rather refer to the condition of thebrain during what we may call 'doziness, ' and also to the effectssometimes produced by disease on the imagination and the senses. 

We all know that in a state of 'doziness, ' any accidental orridiculous image which happens to suggest itself, will remain in themind much longer than in a wakeful condition. A few slight, shapelessmarks on the ceiling will assume the form of a face or a full-lengthfigure; and strange physiognomies will be found among the flowers onthe bed-curtains. In the impressible and passive state of the brainleft by any illness which produces nervous exhaustion, suchimaginations often become very troublesome. Impressions made on thebrain some time ago will now reappear. Jean Paul Richter cautions usnot to tell frightful stories to children, for this reason--that, though the 'horrible fancies' may all be soon forgotten by thehealthful child, yet afterwards, when some disease--a fever, forinstance--has affected the brain and the nerves, all the dismissedgoblins may too vividly reproduce themselves. Our experience canconfirm the observation. Some years ago, we went to a circus, where, during the equestrian performances, some trivial popular airs wereplayed on brass instruments--cornets and trombones--dismally out oftune. Now, by long practice, we have acquired the art of utterlyturning our attention away from, bad music, so that it annoys us nomore than the rumble of wheels in Fleet Street. We exercised thisvoluntary deafness on the occasion. But not long afterwards, we werecompelled, during an attack of disease which affected the nervoussystem, to hear the whole discordant performance repeated again andagain, with a pertinacity which was really very distressing. Such acase prepares us to give credit to a far more remarkable story, related in one of the works of Macnish. A clergyman, we are told, whowas a skilful violinist, and frequently played over some favourite_solo_ or _concerto_, was obliged to desist from practice on accountof the dangerous illness of his servant-maid--if we remember truly, phrenitis was the disease. Of course, the violin was laid aside; butone day, the medical attendant, on going toward the chamber of hispatient, was surprised to hear the violin-solo performed in rathersubdued tones. On examination, it was found that the girl, under theexcitement of disease, had imitated the brilliant divisions and rapidpassages of the music which had impressed her imagination duringhealth! We might multiply instances of the singular effects ofpeculiar conditions of the brain upon the imaginative faculty. For onecase we can give our personal testimony. A young man, naturallyimaginative, but by no means of weak mind, or credulous, orsuperstitious, saw, even in broad daylight, spectres or apparitions ofpersons far distant. After being accustomed to these visits, heregarded them without any fear, except on account of the derangementof health which they indicated. These visions were banished by acourse of medical treatment. In men of great imaginative power, withwhom reason is by no means deficient, phenomena sometimes occur almostas vivid as those of disease in other persons. Wordsworth, speaking ofthe impressions derived from certain external objects, says:

 ------------ on the mind They lay like images, _and seemed almost To haunt the bodily sense_!

Again, in his verses recording his impression of the beauty of a bedof daffodils, he says:

 And oft, _when on my couch I lie_, [dozing?] They _flash_ before that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude. 

These words are nothing more, we believe, than a simple andunexaggerated statement of a mental phenomenon. 

Enough has now been said to shew, that in a certain condition of thebrain, when it is deprived of the wakefulness and activity necessaryfor the free use of reason, the effects of imagination may far exceedany that are displayed during a normal, waking state of theintellectual faculties. The question now remains: Are the meansemployed by the professors of electro-biology sufficient to producethat peculiar condition to which we refer? We believe that they are;and shall proceed to give reasons for such belief. 

3. What are these means? or rather let us ask, 'Amid the various meansemployed, which is the real agent?' We observe that, in the differentprocesses by which--under the names of electro-biology or mesmerism--apeculiar cerebral condition is induced, such means as the followingare employed:--Fixed attention on one object--it may be a metallicdisk said to have galvanic power, or a sixpence, or a cork; silence, and a motionless state of the body are favourable to the intendedresult; monotonous movements by the experimenter, called 'passes, ' maybe used or not. The process may be interrupted by frequent winking, torelieve the eyes; by studying over some question or problem; or, ifthe patient is musical, by going through various pieces of music inhis imagination; by anything, indeed, which tends to keep the mindwakeful. Now, when we find among the various means _one_ invariablypresent, in some form or another--_monotony of attention producing apartial exhaustion of the nervous energy_, we have reason to believethat _this_ is the real agent. 

But how can the 'fixed gaze upon the disk' affect reason? Certainly, it does not immediately affect reason; but through the nerves of theeye it very powerfully operates on the organ of reason, _the brain_, and induces an impressive, passive, and somnolent condition. 

Such a process as the 'fixed gaze on a small disk for about the spaceof a quarter of an hour, ' must not be dismissed as a trifle. It isopposed to the natural wakeful action of the brain and the eye. Let itbe observed that, in waking hours, the eye is continually in play, relieving itself, and guarding against weariness and exhaustion byunnumbered changes of direction. This is the case even during such anapparently monotonous use of the eye as we find in reading. As sleepapproaches, the eye is turned upwards, as we find it also in somecases of disease--hysteria, for example; and it should be noticed, that this position of the eye is naturally connected with a somnolentand dreaming condition of the brain. In several of the subjects of theso-called electro-biological experiments, we observed that the eyeswere partially turned upward. It is curious to notice that this modeof acting on the brain is of very ancient date, at least among theHindoos. In their old poem, the _Bhagavad-Gita_, it is recommended asa religious exercise, superior to prayer, almsgiving, attendance attemples, &c. ; for the god Crishna, admitting that these actions aregood, so far as they go, says: '_but he who, sitting apart, gazesfixedly upon one object until he forgets home and kindred, himself, and all created things--he attains perfection_. ' Not having at handany version of the _Bhagavad-Gita_, we cannot now give an exacttranslation of the passage; but we are quite sure that it recommends astate of stupefaction of the brain, induced by a long-continued fixedgaze upon one object. 

We have now stated, _1st_, That such an act of long-fixed attentionupon one object, has a very remarkable effect on the brain; _2d_, Thatin the cerebral condition thus induced, the mental powers are not freeto maintain their normal relations to each other; especially, will, comparison, and judgment, appear to lose their requisite power andpromptitude of action, and are thus made liable to be overruled by thesuggestions of imagination or the commands of the experimenter. 

To this explanation we can only add, that all who doubt it may easilyput it to an experimental test. If it is thought that the mere 'fixedgaze, ' without electric or galvanic agency, is not sufficient toproduce the phenomena in question, then the only way of determiningour dispute must be by fair experiment. But here we would add a wordof serious caution, as we regard the process as decidedly dangerous, especially if frequently repeated on one subject. 

To conclude: we regard the exhibitions now so common under the name ofelectro-biology as delusions, so far as they are understood to haveany connection with the facts of electricity; so far as they are_real_, we regard them as very remarkable instances of a mode ofacting on the brain which is, we believe, likely to prove injurious. As we have no motive in writing but simply to elicit the truth, wewill briefly notice two difficulties which seem to attend our theory. These are--1. The _rapid transition_ from the state of illusion to anapparently wakeful and normal condition of mind. The patient who hasbeen making snow-balls in a warm room, and has pulled the moon down, comes from the platform, recognises his friends, and can laugh at thevisions which to him seemed realities but a few minutes since. 2. The_apparently slight effects_ left, in some cases, after theexperiments. Among the subjects whom we have questioned on this point, one felt 'rather dizzy' all the next day after submitting to theprocess; another felt 'a pressure on the head;' but a third, who wasone of the most successful cases, felt 'no effects whatever'afterwards; while a fourth thinks he derived 'some benefit' to hishealth from the operation. We leave these points for further inquiry. 

FOOTNOTES:

[4] We can corroborate the view taken by the writer of this article asto the reality of the effects produced on the persons submitting tothe process, having seen many who are intimately known to usexperimented on with success. The incredulity which still prevails onthis subject in London can only be attributed to the necessary rarity, in so large a town, of experiments performed on persons known to theobservers. --ED. 

NEW MOTIVE-POWER. 

We copy the following from an American newspaper, without vouching forthe accuracy of the statement:--'The _Cincinnati Atlas_ announces awonderful invention in that city. Mr Solomon, a native of Prussia, isthe inventor. He is a gentleman of education, and was professor of acollege in his native land at the age of twenty-five. In Cincinnati, he prosecuted his scientific researches and experiments, which nowpromise to result in fame, wealth, and honour to himself, andincalculable benefit to the whole human family. The invention of a newlocomotive and propelling power by Mr Solomon was mentioned some sixmonths ago; and a few days ago, his new engine, in course ofconstruction for many months, was tested, and the most sanguineexpectations of the inventor more than realised. The _Atlas_ says: "OnMonday last, the engine was kept in operation during the day, andhundreds of spectators witnessed and were astonished at its success. The motive-power is obtained by the generation and expansion, by heat, of carbonic acid gas. Common whiting, sulphuric acid, and water, areused in generating this gas, and the 'boiler' in which these componentparts are held, is similar in shape and size to a common bomb-shell. Asmall furnace, with a handful of ignited charcoal, furnishes therequisite heat for propelling this engine of 25 horsepower. Therelative power of steam and carbonic acid is thus stated:--Water atthe boiling-point gives a pressure of 15 pounds to the square inch. With the addition of 30 degrees of heat, the power is double, giving30 pounds; and so on, doubling with every additional 30 degrees ofheat, until we have 4840 pounds under a heat of 452 degrees--a heatwhich no engine can endure. But with the carbon, 20 degrees of heatabove the boiling-point give 1080 pounds; 40 degrees give 2160 pounds;80 degrees, 4320 pounds; that is, 480 pounds greater power with thisgas, than 451 degrees of heat give by converting water into steam! Notonly does this invention multiply power indefinitely, but it reducesthe expense to a mere nominal amount. The item of fuel for afirst-class steamer, between Cincinnati and New Orleans, going andreturning, is between 1000 and 1200 dollars, whereas 5 dollars willfurnish the material for propelling the boat the same distance bycarbon. Attached to the new engine is also an apparatus for condensingthe gas after it has passed through the cylinders, and returning itagain to the starting-place, thus using it over and over, and allowingnone to escape. While the engine was in operation on Monday, it lifteda weight of 12, 000 pounds up the distance of five feet perpendicular, five times every minute. This weight was put on by way of experiment, and does by no means indicate the full power of the engine. "'

GOOD-NIGHT. 

 Good-night! a word so often said, The heedless mind forgets its meaning; 'Tis only when some heart lies dead On which our own was leaning, We hear in maddening music roll That lost 'good-night' along the soul. 

 'Good-night'--in tones that never die It peals along the quickening ear; And tender gales of memory For ever waft it near, When stilled the voice--O crush of pain!-- That ne'er shall breathe 'good-night' again. 

 Good-night! it mocks us from the grave-- It overleaps that strange world's bound From whence there flows no backward wave-- It calls from out the ground, On every side, around, above, 'Good-night, ' 'good-night, ' to life and love!

 Good-night! Oh, wherefore fades away The light that lived in that dear word? Why follows that good-night no day? Why are our souls so stirred? Oh, rather say, dull brain, once more, 'Good-night!'--thy time of toil is o'er!

 Good-night!--Now cometh gentle sleep, And tears that fall like welcome rain. Good-night!--Oh, holy, blest, and deep, The rest that follows pain. How should we reach God's upper light If life's long day had no 'good-night?'

 O. 

ENGLISH INDEPENDENCE. 

Somebody--and we know not whom, for it is an old faded yellowmanuscript scrap in our drawer--thus rebukes an Englishman'saspiration to be independent of foreigners: A French cook dresses hisdinner for him, and a Swiss valet dresses him for his dinner. He handsdown his lady, decked with pearls that never grew in the shell of aBritish oyster, and her waving plume of ostrich-feathers certainlynever formed the tail of a barn-door fowl. The viands of his table arefrom all countries of the world; his wines are from the banks of theRhine and the Rhone. In his conservatory, he regales his sight withthe blossoms of South American flowers; in his smoking-room, hegratifies his scent with the weed of North America. His favouritehorse is of Arabian blood, his pet dog of the St Bernard breed. Hisgallery is rich with pictures from the Flemish school and statues fromGreece. For his amusement, he goes to hear Italian singers warbleGerman music followed by a French ballet. The ermine that decorateshis judges was never before on a British animal. His very mind is notEnglish in its attainments--it is a mere picnic of foreigncontributions. His poetry and philosophy are from ancient Greece andRome, his geometry from Alexandria, his arithmetic from Arabia, andhis religion from Palestine. In his cradle, in his infancy, he rubbedhis gums with coral from Oriental oceans; and when he dies, he isburied in a coffin made from wood that grew on a foreign soil, and hismonument will be sculptured in marble from the quarries of Carrara. Apretty sort of man this to talk of being independent offoreigners!--_Harper's Magazine. _

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