CHAMBERS' EDINBURGH JOURNAL

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

 NO. 431. NEW SERIES. SATURDAY, APRIL 3, 1852. PRICE 11/2 _d. _

IMPERFECT RESPECTABILITIES. 

Everybody must have had some trouble in his time with imperfectrespectabilities. Nice, well-dressed, well-housed, civil, agreeablepeople are they. No fault to find with them but that there is somelittle flaw in their history, for which the very good (rigid) don'tvisit them. The degree to which one is incommoded with imperfectrespectabilities, depends of course a good deal upon the extent of hisgood-nature, or his dislike of coming to strong measures in sociallife. Some have an inherent complaisance which makes them all butunfit for any such operation as cutting, or even for the less violentone of cooling off. Some take mild views of human infirmity, andshrink from visiting it too roughly. They would rather that thesinners did not cross them; but, since the contrary is the fact, whatcan they do but be civil?

One great source of perplexity in the case, is the excessive urbanityof the imperfect respectabilities themselves. They come up to you onthe street with such sunny faces, and have so many kind inquiries tomake, and so many pleasant things to say, that, for the life of you, you cannot stiffen up as you ought to do. Some haunting recollectionof a bad affair of cards, or some awkward circumstances attending aninsolvency, will come across your mind, and make you wish the fellowin the next street; but, unluckily, there he is, cheerful, even funny, talking of all sorts of respectable things, such as the state of themoney-market, and what Sir George said to him the other day about thereviving prospects of Protection; and what avails your secretwrithing? He holds you by the glittering eye. You listen, you makejocular observations in reply; the cards and the insolvency vanishfrom your thoughts; you at length shake hands, and part in a transportof good-humoured old acquaintanceship, and not till you have got ahundred yards away, do you cool down sufficiently to remember that youhave made a fool of yourself by patronising an imperfectrespectability. 

It is, after all, _not_ a harsh and censorious world. Let theimperfect respectabilities bear witness. If rigid justice held rulebelow, or men were really persecutors of each other, there would be nolife for that class. In point of fact, they not only live, butsometimes do tolerably well in the world. They only could do so byvirtue of a certain mutual tolerance which pervades society. It is anice matter, however, to say what degree of imperfect respectabilitywill be endured. Some things, we all know, cannot be forgiven uponearth; and in such cases there is no resource but in obscurity. Butthere is also a large class of offences, the consequences of which maybe overcome. Perhaps the facts do not come fully out into generalnotice. Perhaps there may be some little thing to say in exculpation. If the offender can, after a short space, continue to make his usualpersonal appearances, he is safe, because the great bulk of his oldfriends would rather continue to recognise him, than come to apositive rupture--an event always felt as inconvenient. Of course, they will be too well-bred to allude before him to any unpleasant factin his history. He will never recall it to their minds. By being thusthrown out of all common reference, it will become obscured to awonderful degree, insomuch that many will at length think of it onlyas a kind of domestic myth, to which no importance is to be attached. Thus Time is continually bringing in his bills of indemnity in favourof these unconfessing culprits. Were the world as harsh as is said, weshould rather be having _post-facto_ acts to punish them, supposingthat existing statutes were insufficient. 

One of the most curious points in the physiology of an imperfectrespectability, is the fact of his almost always having somethingremarkably agreeable and attractive about him. Going down a peg inreputation seems somehow to have a specific effect upon the temper. From a bear it will convert a man into a perfect lamb. He becomesobliging to the last degree, has a kind word for everybody, and isnever so happy as when he is allowed to render you some disagreeablepiece of service. Scott, who knew everything, knew this, and hence itwas that he made Glossin so very polite to the ostler atKippletringan. When a stranger comes to settle in a country place, theimperfect respectability is sure to be amongst the first to call andoffer his services. He likes a new family, and thinks it a duty to beready to do the honours of the place. He is also, to a remarkabledegree, a family man. None is seen so often going about with wife anddaughters. In fact, he is exemplary in this respect. Few pews, moreover, so regularly filled as his. When a subscription is got up, it is a positive pleasure to him to subscribe; ten times more to beallowed to come upon the committee, and join other two in going aboutwith a paper. The effect of all this is, that the imperfectrespectable is often a highly popular character. Everybody likes him, and wishes him at the devil. 

When the case is so strong that disappearance is imperativelynecessary, then of course disappear he must. Every now and then, someone of our old friends is thus dropping through the trap-doors of thesocial stage, to be seen and heard of no more. In travelling, one isapt to come upon some old-remembered face, which he had beenaccustomed to in such different circumstances that he has a difficultyin recognising it. It may be in some village obscurity of our owncountry, some German watering-place, or some American wilderness. There it is, however, the once familiar face; and you cannot pass itunheeded. You soon discover that you have lighted upon an imperfectrespectability in exile. He is delighted to see you, seems in thehighest spirits, and insists on your coming home to see Mrs ----, anddine or spend the night. He has never been better off anywhere. Allgoes well with him. It was worth his while to come here, if only forthe education of his family. As he rattles on, speaking of everythingbut the one thing you chiefly think of, you cannot help being touchedin spirit. You feel that there may be things you can respect more, butmany you respect that you cannot love so much. 

While the imperfect respectability bears up so well before his oldacquaintance, who can tell what may be the reflections that visit hisbreast in moments of retirement? Let us not be too ready to set himdown as indifferent to the consequences of the sin which once sounfortunately beset him. Let us not too easily assume that he has notfelt the loss of place and reputation, because he laughs and chatssomewhat more than he used to do. I follow my poor old friend to hishome, and there see him in his solitary hours brooding over the greatforfeit he has made, and bitterly taxing himself with errors which hewould be right loath to confess to the world. He knows what men thinkand say of him behind his back, notwithstanding that not a symptom ofthe consciousness escapes him. And let us hope that, in many cases, the contrite confession which is withheld from men is yielded where itis more fitly due. 

TALES OF THE COAST-GUARD. 

THE LAST REVEL. 

When I was quite a lad, a servant lived with us of the name of AnneStacey. She had been in the service of William Cobbett, the politicalwriter, who resided for some years at Botley, a village a few milesdistant from Itchen. Anne might be about two or three and twenty yearsof age when she came to us; and a very notable, industrious servantshe was, and remarked, moreover, as possessing a strong religiousbias. Her features, everybody agreed, were comely and intelligent. Butthat advantage in the matrimonial market was more than neutralised byher unfortunate figure, which, owing, as we understood, to a fall inher childhood, was hopelessly deformed, though still strongly set andmuscular. Albeit, a sum of money--about fifty pounds--scraped togetherby thrifty self-denial during a dozen years of servitude, amplycompensated in the eyes of several idle and needy young fellows forthe unlovely outline of her person; and Anne, with an infatuation toocommon with persons of her class and condition, and in spite ofrepeated warning, and the secret misgivings, one would suppose, of herown mind, married the best-looking, but most worthless and dissipatedof them all. This man, Henry Ransome by name, was, I have beeninformed, constantly intoxicated during the first three months ofwedlock, and then the ill-assorted couple disappeared from theneighbourhood of Itchen, and took up their abode in one of the hamletsof the New Forest. Many years afterwards, when I joined the PreventiveService, I frequently heard mention of his name as that of a mansingularly skilful in defrauding the revenue, as well as in avoidingthe penalties which surround that dangerous vocation. One day, he waspointed out to me when standing by the Cross-House near the Ferry, incompany with a comparatively youthful desperado, whose real name wasJohn Wyatt, though generally known amongst the smuggling fraternityand other personal intimates, by the _sobriquet_ of Black Jack--onaccount, I suppose, of his dark, heavy-browed, scowling figure-head, one of the most repulsive, I think, I have ever seen. Anne's husband, Henry Ransome, seemed, so far as very brief observation enabled me tojudge, quite a different person from his much younger, as well as muchbigger and brawnier associate. I did not doubt that, before excessiveindulgence had wasted his now pallid features, and sapped the vigourof his thin and shaking frame, he had been a smart, good-looking chapenough; and there was, it struck me, spite of his reputation as 'aknowing one, ' considerably more of the dupe than the knave, of thefool than the villain, in the dreary, downcast, skulking expressionthat flitted over his features as his eye caught mine intentlyregarding him. I noticed also that he had a dry, hard cough, and I setdown in my own mind as certain that he would, ere many months passedaway, be consigned, like scores of his fellows, to a brandy-hastenedgrave. He indicated my presence--proximity, rather--to Wyatt, by anudge on the elbow, whereupon that respectable personage swung sharplyround, and returned my scrutinising gaze by one of insolent defianceand bravado, which he contrived to render still more emphatic bythrusting his tongue into his cheek. This done, he gathered up a coilof rope from one of the seats of the Cross-House, and said: 'Come, Harry, let's be off. That gentleman seems to want to take ourpictures--on account that our mugs are such handsome ones, no doubt;and if it was a mildish afternoon, I shouldn't mind having mine done;but as the weather's rather nippy like, we'd better be toddling, Ithink. ' They then swaggered off, and crossed the Ferry. 

Two or three weeks afterwards, I again met with them, under thefollowing circumstances:--I landed from the _Rose_ at Lymington, forthe purpose of going by coach to Lyndhurst, a considerable village inthe New Forest, from which an ex-chancellor derives his title. I hadappointed to meet a confidential agent there at the Fox and HoundsInn, a third-rate tavern, situate at the foot of the hill upon whichthe place is built; and as the evening promised to be clear and fine, though cold, I anticipated a bracing, cross-country walk afterwards inthe direction of Hythe, in the neighbourhood whereof dwelt aperson--neither a seaman nor a smuggler--whose favour I was just thenvery diligently cultivating. It was the month of November; and onbeing set down at the door of the inn somewhere about six o'clock inthe evening, I quietly entered and took a seat in the smoking-roomunrecognised, as I thought, by any one--for I was not in uniform. Myman had not arrived; and after waiting a few minutes, I stepped out toinquire at the bar if such a person had been there. To my greatsurprise, a young woman--girl would be a better word, for she couldnot be more than seventeen, or at the utmost eighteen years old--whomI had noticed on the outside of the coach, was just asking if one DrLee was expected. This was precisely the individual who was to meetme, and I looked with some curiosity at the inquirer. She was acoarsely, but neatly attired person, of a pretty figure, interesting, but dejected cast of features, and with large, dark, sorrowing eyes. Thoughtfulness and care were not less marked in the humble, subduedtone in which she spoke. 'Could I sit down anywhere till he comes?'she timidly asked, after hearing the bar-woman's reply. The servantcivilly invited her to take a seat by the bar-fire, and I returned, without saying anything, to the smoking-room, rang the bell, andordered a glass of brandy and water, and some biscuits. I had beenseated a very short time only, when the quick, consequential step, andsharp, cracked voice of Dr Lee sounded along the passage; and after amomentary pause at the bar, his round, smirking, good-humoured, knavish face looked in at the parlour-door, where, seeing me alone, hewinked with uncommon expression, and said aloud: 'A prime fire in thesmoking-room, I see; I shall treat myself to a whiff there presently. 'This said, the shining face vanished, in order, I doubted not, thatits owner might confer with the young girl who had been inquiring forhim. This Lee, I must observe, had no legal right to the prefix ofdoctor tacked to his name. He was merely a peripatetic quack-salverand vender of infallible medicines, who, having wielded the pestle inan apothecary's shop for some years during his youth, had acquired alittle skill in the use of drugs, and could open a vein or draw atooth with considerable dexterity. He had a large, but not, I think, very remunerative practice amongst the poaching, deer-stealing, smuggling community of those parts, to whom it was of vital importancethat the hurts received in their desperate pursuits should be tendedby some one not inclined to babble of the number, circumstances, orwhereabouts of his patients. This essential condition Lee, hypocriteand knave as he was, strictly fulfilled; and no inducement could, Ithink, have prevailed upon him to betray the hiding-place of a woundedor suffering client. In other respects, he permitted himself a moreprofitable freedom of action, thereto compelled, he was wontapologetically to remark, by the wretchedly poor remuneration obtainedby his medical practice. If, however, specie was scarce amongst hisclients, spirits, as his rubicund, carbuncled face flaminglytestified, were very plentiful. There was a receipt in full paintedthere for a prodigious amount of drugs and chemicals, so that, on thewhole, he could have had no great reason to complain. 

He soon reappeared, and took a chair by the fire, which, after civillysaluting me, he stirred almost fiercely, eyeing as he did so theblazing coals with a half-abstracted and sullen, cowed, disquietedlook altogether unusual with him. At least wherever I had before seenhim, he had been as loquacious and boastful as a Gascon. 

'What is the matter, doctor?' I said. 'You appear strangely down uponyour luck all at once. '

'Hush--hush! Speak lower, sir, pray. The fact is, I have just heardthat a fellow is lurking about here--You have not, I hope, asked forme of any one?'

'I have not; but what if I had?'

'Why, you see, sir, that suspicion--calumny, Shakspeare says, couldnot be escaped, even if one were pure as snow--and more especially, therefore, when one is not quite so--so----Ahem!--you understand?'

'Very well, indeed. You would say, that when one is _not_ actuallyimmaculate--calumny, suspicion takes an earlier and firmer hold. '

'Just so; exactly--and, in fact--ha!'----

The door was suddenly thrown open, and the doctor fairly leaped to hisfeet with ill-disguised alarm. It was only the bar-maid, to ask if hehad rung. He had not done so, and as it was perfectly understood thatI paid for all on these occasions, that fact alone was abundantlyconclusive as to the disordered state of his intellect. He now orderedbrandy and water, a pipe, and a screw of tobacco. These ministrants toa mind disturbed somewhat calmed the doctor's excitement, and hiscunning gray eyes soon brightly twinkled again through a haze ofcurling smoke. 

'Did you notice, ' he resumed, 'a female sitting in the bar? She knowsyou. '

'A young, intelligent-looking girl. Yes. Who is she?'

'Young!' replied Lee, evasively, I thought. 'Well, it's true she _is_young in years, but not in experience--in suffering, poor girl, as Ican bear witness. '

'There are, indeed, but faint indications of the mirth and lightnessof youth or childhood in those timid, apprehensive eyes of hers. '

'She never had a childhood. Girls of her condition seldom have. Herfather's booked for the next world, and by an early stage too, unlesshe mends his manners, and that I hardly see how he's to do. The girl'sbeen to Lymington to see after a place. Can't have it. Her father'scharacter is against her. Unfortunate; for she's a good girl. '

'I am sorry for her. But come, to business. How about the matter youwot of?'

'Here are all the particulars, ' answered Lee, with an easy transitionfrom a sentimental to a common-sense, business-like tone, and at thesame time unscrewing the lid of a tortoise-shell tobacco-box, andtaking a folded paper from it. 'I keep these matters generally here;for if I were to drop such an article--just now, especially--I mightas well be hung out to dry at once. '

I glanced over the paper. 'Place, date, hour correct, and thoroughlyto be depended upon you say, eh?'

'Correct as Cocker, I'll answer for it. It would be a spicy run forthem, if there were no man-traps in the way. '

I placed the paper in my waistcoat-pocket, and then handed the doctorhis preliminary fee. The touch of gold had not its usual electricaleffect upon him. His nervous fit was coming on again. 'I wish, ' hepuffed out--'I wish I was safe out of this part of the country, orelse that a certain person I know was transported; then indeed'--

'And who may that certain person be, doctor?' demanded a grim-lookingrascal, as he softly opened the door. 'Not me, I hope?'

I instantly recognised the fellow, and so did the doctor, who hadagain bounded from his chair, and was shaking all over as if withague, whilst his very carbuncles became pallid with affright. 'You--u--u, ' he stammered--'You--u--u, Wyatt: God forbid!'

Wyatt was, I saw, muddled with liquor. This was lucky for poor Lee. 'Well, never mind if it _was_ me, old brick, ' rejoined the fellow; 'orat least you have been a brick, though I'm misdoubting you'll die apantile after all. But here's luck; all's one for that. ' He held apewter-pot in one hand, and a pipe in the other, and as he drank, hissomewhat confused but baleful look continued levelled savagely alongthe pewter at the terrified doctor. There was, I saw, mischief in theman. 

'I'd drink yours, ' continued the reckless scamp, as he paused forbreath, drew the back of his pipe-hand across his mouth, and stared assteadily as he could in my face--'I'd drink your health, if I onlyknew your name. '

'You'll hear it plainly enough, my fine fellow, when you're in thedock one of these days, just before the judge sends you to the hulks, or, which is perhaps the likelier, to the gallows. And this scamp, too, ' I added, with a gesture towards Lee, whom I hardly dared ventureto look at, 'who has been pitching me such a pretty rigmarole, is, Isee, a fellow-rogue to yourself. This house appears to be littlebetter than a thieves' rendezvous, upon my word. '

'Wyatt regarded me with a deadly scowl as he answered: 'Ay, ay, you'rea brave cock, Master Warneford, upon your own dunghill. It may be myturn some day. Here, doctor, a word with you outside. ' They both leftthe room, and I rang the bell, discharged the score, and was justgoing when Lee returned. He was still pale and shaky, thoughconsiderably recovered from the panic-terror excited by the suddenentrance of Wyatt. 

'Thank Heaven, he's gone!' said the doctor; 'and less sour andsuspicious than I feared him to be. But tell me, sir, do you intendwalking from here to Hythe?'

'I so purpose. Why do you ask?'

'Because the young girl you saw in the bar went off ten minutes ago bythe same road. She was too late for a farmer's cart which she expectedto return by. Wyatt, too, is off in the same direction. '

'She will have company then. '

'Evil company, I fear. Her father and he have lately quarrelled; andher, I know, he bears a grudge against, for refusing, as the talkgoes, to have anything to say to him. '

'Very well; don't alarm yourself. I shall soon overtake them, and youmay depend the big drunken bully shall neither insult nor molest her. Good-night. '

It was a lonely walk for a girl to take on a winter evening, althoughthe weather was brilliantly light and clear, and it was not yet muchpast seven o'clock. Except, perchance, a deer-keeper, or adeer-stealer, it was not likely she would meet a human being for twoor three miles together, and farm and other houses near the track werevery sparsely scattered here and there. I walked swiftly on, and sooncame within sight of Wyatt; but so eagerly was his attention directedahead, that he did not observe me till we were close abreast of eachother. 

'You here!' he exclaimed, fairly gnashing his teeth with rage. 'I onlywish'--

'That you had one or two friends within hail, eh? Well, it's betterfor your own health that you have not, depend upon it. I have fourbarrels with me, and each of them, as you well know, carries a life, one of which should be yours, as sure as that black head is on yourshoulders. '

He answered only by a snarl and a malediction, and we proceeded onpretty nearly together. He appeared to be much soberer than before:perhaps the keen air had cooled him somewhat, or he might have beenshamming it a little at the inn to hoodwink the doctor. Five or sixminutes brought us to a sharp turn of the road, where we caught sightof the young woman, who was not more than thirty or forty yards ahead. Presently, the sound of footsteps appeared to strike her ear, for shelooked quickly round, and an expression of alarm escaped her. I was inthe shadow of the road, so that, in the first instance, she saw onlyWyatt. Another moment, and her terrified glance rested upon me. 

'Lieutenant Warneford!' she exclaimed. 

'Ay, my good girl, that is my name. You appear frightened--not at me, I hope?'

'O no, not at you, ' she hastily answered, the colour vividly returningto her pale cheeks. 

'This good-looking person is, I daresay, a sweetheart of yours; soI'll just keep astern out of ear-shot. My road lies past yourdwelling. '

The girl appeared to understand me, and, reassured, walked on, Wyattlopping sullenly along beside her. I did not choose to have a fellowof his stamp, and in his present mood, walking behind _me_. 

Nothing was said that I heard for about a mile and a half, when Wyatt, with a snarling 'good-night' to the girl, turned off by a path on theleft, and was quickly out of sight. 

'I am not very far from home now, sir, ' said the young womanhesitatingly. She thought, perhaps, that I might leave her, now Wyatthad disappeared. 

'Pray go on, then, ' I said; 'I will see you safe there, thoughsomewhat pressed for time. '

We walked side by side, and after awhile she said in a low tone, andwith still downcast eyes: 'My mother lived servant in your familyonce, sir. '

'The deuce! Your name is Ransome, then, I suspect. '

'Yes, sir--Mary Ransome. ' A sad sigh accompanied these words. I pitiedthe poor girl from my heart, but having nothing very consolatory tosuggest, I held my peace. 

'There is mother!' she cried in an almost joyful tone. She pointed toa woman standing in the open doorway of a mean dwelling at no greatdistance, in apparently anxious expectation. Mary Ransome hastenedforwards, and whispered a few sentences to her mother, who fondlyembraced her. 

'I am very grateful to you, sir, for seeing Mary safely home. You donot, I daresay, remember me?'

'You are greatly changed, I perceive, and not by years alone. '

'Ah, sir!' Tears started to the eyes of both mother and daughter. 'Would you, ' added the woman, 'step in a moment. Perhaps a few wordsfrom you might have effect. ' She looked, whilst thus speaking, at herweak, consumptive-looking husband, who was seated by the fireplacewith a large green baize-covered Bible open before him on a roundtable. There is no sermon so impressive as that which gleams from anapparently yawning and inevitable grave; and none, too, more quicklyforgotten, if by any resource of art, and reinvigoration of nature, the tombward progress be arrested, and life pulsate joyously again. Iwas about to make some remark upon the suicidal folly of persisting ina course which almost necessarily led to misery and ruin, when the butpartially-closed doorway was darkened by the burly figure of Wyatt. 

'A very nice company, by jingo!' growled the ruffian; 'you only wantthe doctor to be quite complete. But hark ye, Ransome, ' he continued, addressing the sick man, who cowered beneath his scowling gaze like abeaten hound--'mind and keep a still tongue in that calf's head ofyourn, or else prepare yourself to--to take--to take--what follows. You know me as well as I do you. Good-night. '

With this caution, the fellow disappeared; and after a few words, which the unfortunate family were too frightened to listen to, orscarcely to hear, I also went my way. 

The information received from Dr Lee relative to the contemplated runnear Hurst Castle proved strictly accurate. The surprise of thesmugglers was in consequence complete, and the goods, the value ofwhich was considerable, were easily secured. There occurredalso several of the ordinary casualties that attend suchencounters--casualties which always excited in my mind a strongfeeling of regret, that the revenue of the country could not beassured by other and less hazardous expedients. No life was, however, lost, and we made no prisoners. To my great surprise I caught, at thebeginning of the affray, a glimpse of the bottle-green coat, drabknee-cords, with gaiter continuations, of the doctor. They, however, very quickly vanished; and till about a week afterwards, I concludedthat their owner had escaped in a whole skin. I was mistaken. 

I had passed the evening at the house whither my steps were directedwhen I escorted Mary Ransome home, and it was growing late, when theservant-maid announced that a young woman, seemingly in great trouble, after inquiring if Lieutenant Warneford was there, had requested tosee him immediately, and was waiting below for that purpose. It was, Ifound, Mary Ransome, in a state of great flurry and excitement. Shebrought a hastily-scribbled note from Dr Lee, to the effect thatWyatt, from motives of suspicion, had insisted that both he andRansome should be present at the attempt near Hurst Castle; that thedoctor, in his hurry to get out of harm's way, had attempted a leapwhich, owing to his haste, awkwardness, and the frosty atmosphere andground, had resulted in a compound fracture of his right leg; that hehad been borne off in a state of insensibility; on recovering fromwhich he found himself in Wyatt's power, who, by rifling his pockets, had found some memoranda that left no doubt of Lee's treason towardsthe smuggling fraternity. The bearer of the note would, he said, further explain, as he could not risk delaying sending it for anothermoment--only he begged to say his life depended upon me. 

'Life!' I exclaimed, addressing the pale, quaking girl; 'nonsense!Such gentry as Wyatt are not certainly particular to a shade or two, but they rarely go that length. '

'They will make away with father as well as Dr Lee, ' she shudderinglyreplied: 'I am sure of it. Wyatt is mad with rage. ' She trembled soviolently, as hardly to be able to stand, and I made her sit down. 

'You cannot mean that the scoundrel contemplates murder?'

'Yes--yes! believe me, sir, he does. You know the _Fair Rosamond_, nowlying off Marchwood?' she continued, growing every instant paler andpaler. 

'The trader to St Michael's for oranges and other fruits?'

'That is but a blind, sir. She belongs to the same company as theboats you captured at Hurst Castle. She will complete landing hercargo early to-morrow morning, and drop down the river with theebb-tide just about dawn. '

'The deuce they will! The cunning rascals. But go on. What would youfurther say?'

'Wyatt insists that both the doctor and my father shall sail in her. They will be carried on board, and--and when at sea--you know--youunderstand'--

'Be drowned, you fear. That is possible, certainly; but I cannot thinkthey would have more to fear than a good keel-hauling. Still, thematter must be looked to, more especially as Lee's predicament isowing to the information he has given the king's officers. Where arethey confined?'

She described the place, which I remembered very well, having searchedit not more than a fortnight previously. I then assured her that Iwould get her father as well as Lee out of the smugglers' hands byforce, if necessary; upon hearing which the poor girl's agitation cameto a climax, and she went off into strong hysterics. There was no timeto be lost, so committing her to the care of the servant, I took leaveof my friends, and made the best of my way to Hythe, hard off which aboat, I knew, awaited me; revolving, as I sped along, the best mode ofprocedure. I hailed the boat, and instructed one of the men--DickRedhead, he was generally called, from his fiery poll--a sharp, cleverfellow was Dick--to proceed immediately to the house I had left, andaccompany the young woman to the spot indicated, and remain in ambush, with both eyes wide open, about the place till I arrived. The _Rose_was fortunately off Southampton Quay; we soon reached her, shifted toa larger boat, and I and a stout crew were on our way, in very littletime, to have a word with that deceitful _Fair Rosamond_, which wecould still see lying quietly at anchor a couple of miles up theriver. We were quickly alongside, but, to our great surprise, found noone on board. There was, however, a considerable quantity ofcontraband spirits in the hold; and this not only confirmed the girl'sstory, but constituted the _Fair Rosamond_ a lawful prize. I left fourmen in her, with strict orders to lie close and not shew themselves, and with the rest hastened on shore, and pushed on to the doctor'srescue. The night was dark and stormy, which was so far the better forour purpose; but when we reached the place, no Dick Redhead could beseen! This was queer, and prowling stealthily round the building, wefound that it was securely barred, sheltered, and fastened up, although by the light through the chinks, and a confused hum, itseemed, of merry voices, there was a considerable number of guestswithin. Still, Master Dick did not shew, and I was thoroughly at aloss how to act. It would not certainly have been difficult to forcean entrance, but I doubted that I should be justified in doing so;besides, if they were such desperadoes as Mary Ransome intimated, sucha measure must be attended with loss of life--a risk not to beincurred except when all less hazardous expedients had failed, andthen only for a sufficient and well-defined purpose. I was thuscogitating, when there suddenly burst forth, overpowering the howlingof the wind and the pattering of the rain, a rattling and familiarchorus, sung by at least a dozen rough voices; and I had not a doubtthat the crew of the _Fair Rosamond_ were assisting at a farewellrevel previous to sailing, as that Hope, which tells so manyflattering tales, assured them they would, at dawn. 

Such merriment did not certainly sound like the ferocious exultationsof intending assassins; still, I was very anxious to make ten or adozen amongst them; and continuing to cast about for the means ofdoing so, our attention was at length fixed upon a strange object, notunlike a thirty-six pounder red-hot round shot, not in the leastcooled by the rain, projecting inquiringly from a small aperture, which answered for a window, halfway up the sloping roof. It proved tobe Master Dick's fiery head, but he made us out before we did him. 'Isthat Bill Simpson?' queried Dick, very anxiously. The seamanaddressed, as soon as he could shove in a word edgewise with thechorus and the numerous wind-instruments of the Forest, answered that'it _was_ Bill Simpson; and who the blazes was that up there?' Towhich the answer was, that 'it was Dick, and that he should beobliged, if Bill had a rope with him, he would shy up one end of it. 'Of course we had a rope: an end was shied up, made fast, and downtumbled Master Dick Redhead without his hat, which, in his hurry, itappeared, he had left behind in the banqueting-room. His explanationwas brief and explicit. He had accompanied the young woman to thepresent building, as I ordered; and being a good deal wrought upon byher grief and lamentations, had suggested that it might be possible toget Dr Lee and her father to a place of safety without delay, proverbially dangerous. This seemed feasible; inasmuch as the fellowleft in charge by Wyatt was found to be dead-drunk, chiefly owing, Icomprehended, to some powerful ingredients infused in his liquor by DrLee. All was going on swimmingly, when, just as Dick had got thedoctor on his back, an alarm was given that the crew of the _FairRosamond_ were close at hand, and Dick had but just time to climb withgreat difficulty into the crazy loft overhead, when a dozen brawnyfellows entered the place, and forthwith proceeded to make merry. 

A brief council was now held, and it was unanimously deemed advisablethat we should all climb up to Dick's hiding-place by means of therope, and thence contrive to drop down upon the convivial gentlemenbelow, in as convenient a manner as possible, and when least expected. We soon scaled the loft, but after-proceedings were not so easy. Theloft was a make-shift, temporary one, consisting of loose planksresting upon the cross rafters of the roof, and at a considerableheight from the floor upon which the smugglers were carousing. Itwould, no doubt, have been easy enough to have slid down by a rope;but this would place the first three or four men, if no more, at themercy of the contrabandists, who, I could see through the wide chinks, were all armed, and not so drunk but that they thoroughly knew whatthey were about. It behoved us to be cool, and consider well the bestcourse to pursue. Whilst doing so, I had leisure to contemplate thescene below. Wyatt was not there; but around a table, lighted by twodip-candles stuck in the necks of black bottles, and provided withabundance of liquor, tobacco, tin pannikins, and clay-pipes, sattwelve or thirteen ill-favoured fellows, any one of whom a prudent manwould, I am very sure, have rather trusted with a shilling than asovereign. The unfortunate doctor, pale and sepulchral as the deathhe evidently dreaded to be near at hand, was sitting propped up in arude arm-chair; and Ransome, worse, I thought, than when I had seenhim a few weeks previously, was reclining on a chest, in front ofwhich stood his wife and daughter in a condition of feverishexcitement. There at first appeared, from the temper of theroisterers, to be no cause for any very grave apprehension; but theaspect of affairs soon changed, and I eagerly availed myself of asuggestion of Dick Redhead's, and gave directions that preparation forits execution should be instantly and silently commenced. The thoughthad struck Dick when perched up there alone, and naturally lookingabout for all available means of defence, should he be discovered. Letme restate my position and responsibilities. It was my duty to rescueLee, the agent of the Customs, from the dangerous predicament in whichhe was placed; and the question was, how to effect this without lossof life. It would, no doubt, have been easy enough to have turned upone or two of the loose planks, and have shot half the smugglersbefore they could have made their escape. This, however, was out ofthe question, and hence the adoption of Dick's proposal. It was this:in the loft where we lay, for stand upright we could not, there was, amongst several empty ones, one full cask, containing illicit spiritsof some kind, and measuring, perhaps, between forty and fifty gallons. It was wood-hooped, and could be easily unheaded by the men's knives, and at a given signal, be soused right upon the heads of the partybeneath, creating a consternation, confusion, and dismay, during whichwe might all descend, and end the business, I hoped, withoutbloodshed. 

This was our plan, and we had need to be quick about it, for, as Ihave said, the state of affairs below had suddenly changed, and muchfor the worse. A whistle was heard without; the front entrance washastily unbarred, and in strode Wyatt, Black Jack, and well did he onthis occasion vindicate the justice of his popular designation. Everybody was in a moment silent, and most of those who could stoodup. 'What's this infernal row going on for?' he fiercely growled. 'Doyou want to get the sharks upon us again?' There was no answer, andone of the men handed him a pannikin of liquor, which he drankgreedily. 'Lee, ' he savagely exclaimed, as he put down the vessel, 'you set out with us in half an hour at latest. '

'Mercy, mercy!' gasped the nerveless, feeble wretch: 'mercy!'

'Oh, ay, we'll give you plenty of that, and some to spare. You, too, Ransome, prepare yourself, as well as your dainty daughter here'--Hestopped suddenly, not, it seemed, checked by the frenzied outcries ofthe females, but by a renewed and piercing whistle on the outside. Inthe meantime, our fellows were getting on famously with the hoops ofthe huge spirit-cask. 'Why, that is Richards' whistle, ' he exclaimed. 'What the furies can this mean? Unbar the door!'

This was instantly done, and a man, a sailor by his dress, rushed in. 'The _Fair Rosamond_ is captured, and the preventive men are inpossession of her. '

My 'Quick! quick!' to the men, though uttered too loud, from thesuddenness of the surprise, was happily lost in the rageful outburstof Wyatt. 'Hellfire!' he roared out. 'But you lie; it cannot be. '

'It is true, ' rejoined the man. 'I and Clarke went on shore about anhour ago in the punt, just to get a nip of brandy this cold night, asyou won't let us break bulk on board. When we returned, Tom went upthe side first, was nabbed, and I had hardly time, upon hearing himsing out, to shove off and escape myself. '

We were now ready, and two of the planks just over Wyatt's head werecarefully turned over. He seemed for a moment paralysed--for a momentonly. Suddenly he sprang towards Mary Ransome, grasped her hair withone hand, and in the other held a cocked pistol: 'You, ' heshouted--'you, accursed minx, have done this. You went out two hoursago'--

I lifted my hand. 'Hurra! Take that, you cowardly lubber!' roared DickRedhead; and down went the avalanche of liquid, knocking not only thepistol out of Wyatt's hand, but himself clean off his legs, and nearlydrowning Mary Ransome, her mother, and half-a-dozen others. A rope hadbeen made fast to one of the rafters, down which we all quietly slidbefore the astonished smugglers could comprehend what had happened. Resistance was then out of the question, and they did not attempt it. I took Wyatt and one or two others into custody, for having contrabandspirits in their possession; and the others were permitted to makethemselves scarce as quickly as might be--a licence they promptlyavailed themselves of. 

I have but a few words to add. Henry Ransome died, I heard, not longafterwards, of pulmonary consumption, brought on by the abuse ofalcoholic liquors, and his wife and daughter ultimately got intorespectable service. Mary Ransome married in due time, and with betterdiscretion than her mother, for she does, or did, keep one of thebranch post-offices in Bermondsey. Dr Lee disappeared from theneighbourhood the instant the state of his leg enabled him to do so, and I have never seen him since. John Wyatt, _alias_ Black Jack, wastransported for life, under the _alias_ of John Martin, for a highwayrobbery near Fareham, in the year 1827. Lately I saw him on board theconvict hulk at Portsmouth. 

AIR-TRAVELLING. 

It may be generally known, that for some time extraordinary effortshave been making to discover a method by which locomotion through theair may be rendered as certain and practicable as locomotion by sea orland. In this desperate enterprise, of bringing the principle ofaërostation into regular use, certain individuals in Paris have takenthe lead. Our belief, like that of others, is, that plans of this kindwill fail, as they have hitherto done; at the same time, we think itwould be improper to dogmatise on the subject, and will only say, thatif travelling by balloon becomes one of the established things of theday, so much the better. 

With these feelings, we have thought it consistent with our duty asjournalists, not to refuse publicity to an account of what was tilllately doing in Paris to forward practical aërostation--we say, lately; for we are told by our correspondent, that the operationstowards perfecting the invention have been stopped by orders of theFrench government, from an opinion that, if air-travelling wereintroduced, it would be injurious to the custom-house, anddenationalise the country. This resolution of the French government isto be regretted, not less on the score of science, than from the ruinit has inflicted on the modest means of the ingenious operator. Withthese preliminary explanations, we offer the following paper, just ashanded to us by a respectable party conversant with the details towhich he refers. 

'The chief difficulty in aëro-locomotion, is that of steering; becausethe atmosphere seems to present no substantial fulcrum which can bepushed against. But that this difficulty is not altogetherinsurmountable, is evident from the single fact, that birds really dosteer their way through the air. This fact suggests, that a fulcrum isnot necessarily a palpable substance: it may be pliant or movable. Forinstance, if we fasten the string of a kite to a ball, this ball, which represents the fulcrum, being set in motion by the kite, becomesa movable fulcrum: a child also, holding the string in his hand, runsfrom right to left without impeding the motion of the kite, of whichmotion he is the movable fulcrum. Absolute stability, therefore, isnot a necessary condition of a fulcrum; it is sufficient that therebe, between the resistant force and the motive force, a difference ofintensity in favour of the former. Thus, in water, the fulcrum, beingliquid, is necessarily pliant and movable; yet it is quite possible, as every child knows, to obtain in this element purchase sufficient tosteer the largest ships. 

'In the air, which is a gas, the fulcrum being gaseous, must also bemovable; but although the air, being the most elastic body with whichwe are acquainted, is therefore the least apt to furnish a fulcrum, yet, as compressed air is capable of bursting the strongest metallicreceptacles, splitting the solid rock, and rending the bosom of theearth, it would seem that we have only to act upon the air throughpressure, in order to obtain the requisite purchase from which tosteer. 

'Foremost among those who are thus endeavouring to render the balloonmanageable, is M. Pétin of Paris, who has devoted fifteen years to thestudy of this subject, the last three years to lecturing upon it inthe principal towns of France, and who has unfortunately expended thewhole of his resources in constructing an air-ship intended todemonstrate, on a small scale, the possibility of steering accordingto the system which he has elucidated. We say on a small scale; forthough the dimensions of the curious construction in question, intended to carry two hundred passengers, will appear large to thoseof our readers whose ideas of ballooning have never gone beyond theordinary ascensions so much in vogue at the present day, they are yetof almost microscopic minuteness when compared with the developmentsof which M. Pétin and his friends conceive his plans to besusceptible!

'The body of this novel vessel consists of two covered decks, orgalleries, connected by a series of narrow bridges, thrown across theopen space between them, on a level with their floor; thus forming thebody of the vessel, which looks not unlike a couple of Noah's Arks, placed parallel to each other, and connected by means of the aforesaidbridges. Suspended across the upper part of this open space, is a rowof sixteen movable wings, placed one behind the other, and attached, by means of pivots, to the upper edge of the inner walls of thegalleries; these wings are of oiled sail-cloth, set into oblong ironframes, and are worked by machinery. They may be opened or closed, inclined to or from each other, at any angle, upwards or downwards. Ateach end of the vessel, near the stem and the stern, is a pair ofscrews, similar to the propellers of a steam-ship, and worked by acouple of small steam-engines of three horse-power each, one beingplaced just above and behind each pair of screws. Lastly, attached tomasts projecting horizontally from each end of the ship, are a coupleof triangular or lateen sails; smaller sails are also attached to theunder part of the balloons, which, enclosed in net-work of strongcord, are fastened to the roof of the galleries, directly over thewings, beneath which, again, are the bridges from which the crew areto work the ship. 

'These skeleton galleries, which, with the exception of the floors, and the walls and roof of their central portion, are constructed oflattice-work, faced with thin bands of iron, in order to render thewhole as light as possible, are 162 feet in length, 8 feet in heightby 4 feet in width in their central portion, but taper off to 18inches in height and width at their extremities. This mode of buildinggives an oval form to the framework of the vessel. The central portionof the galleries, which is at the same time the highest and thewidest, embraces a length of 66 feet, and is appropriated to thepassengers. The boilers are placed here also, one in each gallery; thesteam being conveyed to the engines by pipes. 

'The total length of the ship, including that of the two projectingmasts, is 198 feet; and its total weight, including that of themachinery, and a crew of eight men, is 14, 000 pounds. The balloons are66 feet in diameter, and will contain 15, 000 cubic yards of gas. Theirascensional force is 20, 000 pounds. The wings are 6 feet in length by15 in width. The screws are made of pitched canvas, rimmed with iron;they are 6 feet in length. 

'The eight central wings, disposed in the form of an uprightroof--_parachute_--or of an inverted roof--_paramont_--are intended, by pressing on the air above in ascending, and on the air below indescending, to furnish the necessary point of resistance, or fulcrum, from which to steer. The other eight wings, four at each end of thecentral group, are intended, by being opened or shut, to act as acounterpoise; thus producing a rupture of equilibrium around thecentral fulcrum, and thereby changing the upward movement of theballoons into an oblique forward movement. In other words, the shipbeing raised into the air--to the stratum immediately above the regionof storms--and maintained there by the ascensional force of theballoons, and being forced onward by the screws, the four anteriorwings are to be opened, the four posterior ones remaining closed. Theforepart of the ship being now relieved from the downward pressure ofthe air, caused by the upward movement of the balloons, this pressurestill acting on the posterior wings, its equilibrium is destroyed; theforepart rises, the hindpart dips, thus changing the direction of theship's course, by converting its vertical into an oblique movement, which is to carry it onward upon a plane inclined slightly upward. 

'This operation is to be followed by its converse. The four posteriorwings are to be opened, and the four anterior ones closed; the vesselnow dips in the opposite direction, and moves forward on a planeinclined slightly downward; and so on. Thus, by alternately openingand shutting the two sets of lateral wings, M. Pétin proposes to makehis ship sail forward on a series of inclined planes, upwards anddownwards. He takes care to assure us, however, that the requisitedegree of inclination will be so slight as to be imperceptible to hispassengers; and instances, in corroboration of this opinion, the bedsof rivers, where a very slight degree of inclination suffices toproduce a rapid current. 

'In order to determine perpendicular movement, the centralwings--which, according to M. Pétin, when placed in an obliqueposition, will constitute the fulcrum--are to be brought into anupright position, thus offering no resistance to the air; the twopairs of screws are then made to turn in opposite directions withgreat velocity, forcing powerful convergent currents of air upon thetwo sets of lateral wings, maintained in oblique and oppositepositions. The force of these currents, being decomposed by theresistance of the wings, is thus changed into a perpendicularpressure, acting upwards or downwards according to the position of thewings; by means of which the aëronaut hopes to be enabled to ascend ordescend without losing either gas or ballast. 

'This decomposition of the force of the currents produced by thescrews, is analogous to that effected by the sails of a ship sailingacross the wind; where, the sails being inclined at an angle of 45degrees to the course of the wind, the ship is impelled onwards in adirection at right angles to that of the wind: the only difference inthe two cases being this--namely, that in the sails of the ship, theaxis of inclination, represented by the mast, is _vertical_, creating_horizontal_ movement; while, in the wings of the air-ship, the axisof inclination--the pivot on which they turn--is _horizontal_, creating _vertical_ movement. Were there but one pair of screws, acting upon one set of inclined wings, a slight retrograde horizontalmovement would be produced in addition to the vertical movement, asthe current of blast from the screw would react upon the screw itselfwith a force greater than that with which it would impinge upon thewings, where a part of the blast will inevitably be wasted. But therebeing two pairs of screws, acting in opposite directions, they willneutralise each other's horizontal movement, while combining in theproduction of vertical movement. So, at least, reasons our inventor;but however ingenious this expedient, its efficiency may well bedoubted, when we remember the immense amount of resistance, offered bythe surface of the balloons, which would have to be overcome. 

'To obtain lateral movement, the action of one pair of screws issuspended, leaving the other pair in motion: the ship, according tothe calculation of M. Pétin, will immediately describe a curve, andturn. 

'Such is the air-ship constructed by M. Pétin; but, unhappily for thedemonstration of his views, the French government, either from fear ofaccident, or from some other motive, has interdicted its ascension;and the vessel which, three months ago, was ready--crew, captain, andmachinery--to attempt its advertised flight round the walls of Paris, is still reposing, in inglorious idleness, upon its stocks in theChantier Marbeuf (Champs Elysées), to the woful disappointment of itsenthusiastic inventor, who, however, consoles himself with the hope ofcoming over to London for the purpose of testing his invention, assoon as the return of fine weather shall render it prudent to make thetrial journey. In justice to M. Pétin, we would observe, that the solepoint which he hopes to prove with this vessel is, _the possibility ofobtaining a fulcrum in the air_, justly considering that if thequestion of _steering_ were affirmatively settled, the necessarymeans, pecuniary and other, would soon be forthcoming to enable him toimprove upon, or to change the original construction, and to build themammoth vessels, containing closed apartments, warmed and fitted upwith every provision for comfort, in which he hopes to transportseveral thousands of passengers at a time, and at a speed which italmost takes away one's breath to think of. 

'For, urges M. Pétin, if we could once succeed in getting a fulcrum inthe air in spite of its elasticity, this very elasticity would thenenable us, with suitable motive-power, to move with a degree ofrapidity far transcending the possibilities of locomotion in any otherelement. In fact, it would seem, according to M. Pétin's computations, that we might breakfast in London, lunch in Constantinople, dine inChina, dance the evening out in Havannah, and get home to bed at anhour not much later than that at which the votaries of fashion usuallybetake themselves to their slumbers. 

'The reasoning by which our inventor arrives at the seeminglyparadoxical conclusion, that the air is destined to be the high-road_par excellence_, and to serve as the medium of transportation for theheaviest loads, is certainly very ingenious; of its conclusiveness, wemust leave our readers to judge for themselves. 

'Progression from the simple to the composite, says M. Pétin, is theuniversal law. In the works of nature, the action of this law iseverywhere visible; and man, in his works, follows the path thusconsecrated by the footsteps of the Creator. Thus we find, hecontinues, that the point multiplied by itself produces the line; theline, in like manner, produces the plane; and the plane, the cube; anascending series, which he conceives to have its exact analogy in thatfurnished by the earth, the water, and the air, considered as _media_of locomotion. In other words, the point, or primary germ ofextension, corresponds, according to the theory of M. Pétin, with thefulcrum, or primary condition of locomotion; the line, first andsimplest form of extension, corresponds with locomotion on the surfaceof the earth, where, owing to topographic inequalities, and otherobstacles, locomotion can take place only in its first and simplestmode--namely, in a linear direction; the plane, produced by themovement of the line, and constituting a higher term of superficialdevelopment, corresponds with locomotion upon the water, whoseunencumbered surface, which can be traversed in every direction, presents a locomotive medium, the facilities of which, compared withthose offered by the surface of the earth, increase in the ratio ofthe difference of extension between the line and the plane. 

'The cube, product of the plane multiplied by itself, corresponds withlocomotion in the air, where the aëronaut, being surrounded on everyside by fulcra furnished by the various strata of the atmosphere, moves at will in every direction; pressing on the higher strata inascending, on the lower in descending, on the lateral in turning tothe right or to the left, and thus commanding a sphere of locomotionwhose extent and facilities, compared with those afforded by thewater, are as the cube to the plane. 

'Aërial navigation being thus, according to his theory, the highestform of locomotion, M. Pétin considers himself as justified inassuming, _a priori_, that this mode of transportation will offerfacilities superior to those of every other in point of safety, speed, power, and cheapness; but on condition of its being carried intoeffect upon a scale commensurate with the vastness of its field andthe importance of its results. 

'To convince ourselves that such is really the intention ofProvidence, and that balloons are destined to transport the heaviestloads, we have only, continues M. Pétin, to examine the law whichpresides over the development of spheric bodies; the surface of asphere being represented by the square of the radius, while its_contenance_, or containing power, is represented by the cube of theradius. In other words, if we increase the diameter of a sphere threetimes, although we increase its surface only nine times, we increaseits containing power twenty-seven times. Therefore, by constructingballoons on a very large scale, as the extent of surface, andconsequent resistance of the air, increases in an immensely smallerproportion than the containing power, we may obtain an almost fabulousamount of ascensional force. For instance: a balloon of one hundredyards in diameter would suffice to raise only ten millions of pounds;but ten such balloons ranged one behind the other, or, better still, acigar-shaped balloon, which would be equivalent to these ten balloonsunited in one (an arrangement which, as the law of development issimilar for spheric and for cylindric bodies, would greatly diminishthe resistance of the air, without occasioning any loss of containingpower), would suffice to raise one hundred millions of pounds; andallowing some four or five millions of pounds for the weight of thevessel and its machinery, which, for a ship of this size--supposing itwere possible to make its various parts hold together--should be, M. Pétin computes, of twelve hundred horse-power, we should still have atcommand a surplus ascensional force of upwards of ninety millions ofpounds; a force sufficient to sustain a body of fifty thousand men!

'In the construction of these enormous balloons, M. Pétin proposes tosubstitute, in place of the silken bag hitherto used to contain thegas, a rigid envelope of a cylindro-conical form, composed of a seriesof metallic tubes, laid one above the other, and supplied withgas--obtainable to any amount and almost instantaneously--from thedecomposition of water by a powerful electric battery; and with theseresources at command, M. Pétin conceives that balloons might beconstructed on a scale even larger than that just given!

'In fact, this assumption of the possibility of obtaining command ofan unlimited ascensional force has suggested, to certain enthusiasticpartisans of M. Pétin's theory and plans, a long perspective ofastounding visions, from which sober-minded Englishmen would, in allprobability, turn away with derision. These enthusiasts have evidentlyadopted the language of Archimedes, and are ready to exclaim: "Give usa _fulcrum_, and, " with hydrogen gas as our lever, "we will move theworld!"

'For ourselves, we have already stated the facts from which we deriveour conviction that the conquest of the air, if achieved, is to bebrought about through the agency of new and powerful mechanicalcombinations, rather than by means of the balloon; and though, asbefore remarked, the experiments of M. Pétin and others may probablynot be without useful results, we dismiss these brilliantphantasmagoria with the charitable reflection, that the extravaganceof overweening hopefulness is, at least in an age which has witnessedthe advent of steam and electricity, more natural and more pardonablethan the scepticism of confirmed despondency; and that "he who shootsat the stars, " though missing his aim, will at all events shoot higherthan he who aims at the mud beneath his feet. 

'Meantime, the science of meteorology--a subject intimately connectedwith that of aëro-locomotion--though yet in its infancy, alreadyfurnishes many indications of great importance, as establishing a verystrong presumption in favour of the existence of permanent atmosphericcurrents, blowing continuously in various directions at differentdegrees of elevation. 

'We know that air, when rarefied by heat, becomes lighter and rises, cold air immediately rushing in to supply its place; and it isevident, therefore, that if two neighbouring regions of the atmosphereare unequally heated, this inequality of temperature will give rise totwo currents of air--a warm one, in the upper region of theatmosphere, blowing from the warmer to the colder region; and a coldone, near the surface of the earth, blowing from the colder to thewarmer region. It can, therefore, hardly be matter of doubt, thatgreat permanent currents, caused by the unequal heating of theequatorial and polar regions, do exist in the higher strata of theatmosphere--an inference which is supported not only by the occurrenceof the trade-winds and the monsoon, but by a variety of other factsand observations. 

'Thus, for instance, it is found that in the region of thetrade-winds, cinders from the craters of volcanoes, and other objects, are carried through the higher regions of the air in a directionexactly opposite to that in which the trade-wind itself is blowingbelow; and in this way cinders from the Cosiguina, in Guatemala, frequently fall in the streets of Kingston (Jamaica), lying to thenorth-east of Guatemala. Similar facts have been observed at the Peakof Teneriffe, in the Straits of Magellan, and elsewhere. 

'The importance of this subject with regard to aëro-locomotion canhardly be overrated; for these currents, when clearly ascertained andcorrectly mapped out, would constitute so many great natural routes, where the aëronaut would be borne onward in the required directionwith immense velocity, and without danger of encountering squalls orcounter-currents. 

'But here, fearful of exhausting the patience of our readers, we bringour somewhat lengthened disquisitions to a close, and take our leavefor the present of the tempting, though debatable ground of the CUBICHIGHWAY. '

A MEMOIR FOR THE MILLION. 

On the meeting-line between a moorland and lowland district ofPerthshire, stands an old baronial seat, dignified with the name ofcastle, to which, no doubt, it was entitled long after the date of itserection, in the fifteenth century, although no longer boasting ofeither the strength or magnificence which such a name implies. Itsposition, however, is picturesque--standing on the bank of a romanticand finely-wooded Highland glen, and commanding a view on one side ofa mountain-range, and on the other of a cultivated country, with itstowns and villages in the distance. The mansion is flanked on one sideby a court-yard and 'louping-on-stane;' and on the other, by a velvetybowling-green, stretching along to an antique garden of cut yews andhollies overhanging the glen. It boasts, of course, its hauntedchamber, and traditional stories of love and murder; but we have notnow to do with life or death above stairs, though many a tale might befounded on truths 'stranger than fiction. ' Our present purpose is withthe neighbourhood of the kitchen. There, too, we find some relics ofolden times; a fireplace which would legalise the Scottish invitation, to 'come in to the fire, ' inasmuch as within the chimney-arch was theseat of honour and comfort, where a dozen cronies could sit beside theembers, while an ox might roast in front. From that cozy neuk did theold fiddler play in the evening, when the spinning-wheels were putaway, and the maids, generally tenants' daughters, had their dancewith the stragglers from the stables and cottages. Near the kitchenwas a much colder and more dismal place, that went by the name of 'thePit'--a half-subterranean recess, several steps lower than thekitchen, into which scarcely a ray of light penetrated through thesmall 'bole' that was drilled in the massive walls for a window. Thecheerless aspect of the place seemed to confirm the tradition, that ithad sometimes served of yore as a place of involuntary restraint. Itspresent occupant, however, the son of a day-labourer, found no faultwith the accommodation it afforded him. He was a young boy, whocleaned shoes, scoured knives, and received with great deference thecommands of Daniel Don, the butler. This boy was called John Dickson. The Pit was his domicile, as well as his work-room, and he made italso a 'study;' for having earned a rushlight by running messages, ordoing extra work for his neighbours, he might be found at night, aslong as the light would last, poring over a book. In this way he had, unknown to others, while still a mere boy, read through that vastquarry of erudition, Henry's 'Commentary on the Bible. '

Old James, the gardener, was a tolerable scholar, and a well-informedman, and took great pleasure in encouraging young students; so, ondiscovering John Dickson's taste for books, he lent him an old Latingrammar, recommending him to commit it to memory. This John did withpraiseworthy diligence, although, being written in a language he didnot understand, he could make but little use of his acquisition. OldJames, however, may be forgiven for having set John to study after theorthodox fashion of Ruddiman, for he had never been out of his ownglen, and in those days new ideas were long in penetrating to thecountry districts. 

When John Dickson was promoted to assist in waiting at table, anincident occurred, which no doubt had some influence on his dreams, ifnot on his fortunes. A stranger, in regimentals, was at dinner oneday, and being prepossessed by the lad's pleasing manners andexpression of face, he turned to him, and clapping him on theshoulder, said: 'I was once in your present station, my boy, and ifyou are steady, and behave well, you may one day rise to be in mine. 'The speaker was Dr Miller, a physician in the army. John, however, hadfew dreams and little ambition. He was not what is commonly called agenius; but he possessed sterling qualities of head and heart, perseveringly cultivated his natural abilities, and invariablyconducted himself with the greatest propriety. It was no wonder, then, that he became a general favourite in the family; and that, when hecarried the game-bag for the gentlemen, they purposely made longdetours, and met him again at an appointed spot, in order to give himan hour at his book; for John always had a book in his pocket for aspare moment. Once, indeed, this custom occasioned some annoyance tohis master, whom he had accompanied to a shooting-hut in the moors, nicknamed 'Grouse Hall, ' where the unfortunate laird was detained byan intolerable fit of gout; a circumstance not apt to engenderpatience and resignation, especially when, from the other side of thecloth partition which divided the single apartment of the hut, heheard bursts of laughter pealing forth in succession--for John Dicksonhad managed to carry off a copy of Don Quixote to the moors. 

When the younger sons of the family were sent to college in Edinburgh, John was chosen to accompany them. Let us now see how he conductedhimself in this new and trying field; for trying it is. Country lads, in coming to a large town, meet with many temptations, and by these, hundreds of them fall. They cannot resist petty attractions toamusement and misspending of time. They enjoy themselves while theyshould work. They take to fun, instead of to labour. Well; to whichdid our hero attach himself? To regular, hard work, to be sure. He hadthe good sense to see, that here was his chance of getting on in theworld. While other lads were amusing themselves at the theatre, orkicking their heels about the street, or hanging about theauction-rooms in front of the college, John Dickson stuck hard to hisbooks. He also availed himself of other advantages connected with hissituation. The tutor of the family in which he was employed was JohnBarclay, afterwards the celebrated anatomist, whose valuable museumwas bequeathed to the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh, oncondition that they would build a hall, and form a more extendedcollection, which has been fulfilled. At this time, Dr Barclay hadcommenced his private lectures on anatomy, which soon became popular;and John made himself so useful in the arrangement of the classroom, that the doctor was induced to encourage him to attend the lectures, and assist in preparing the demonstrations. Thus Dickson spent manywinters, at once attendant and pupil, returning to the country insummer in his old capacity. By degrees, he completed his medicaleducation, obtaining gratis-tickets from the professors--a favoursometimes extended to deserving students, and of which he was wellworthy. Dr Barclay once gave a good lesson to those who apply for suchgratuitous favours for others. He was asked by a certain bookseller togive a perpetual gratis-ticket for his class to a student thenstanding in the shop, who could ill afford to pay the four-guinea fee. 'Most certainly, ' said the doctor; 'I can never refuse in such a case. By the by, Mr ----, I want a few books; will you look them out for menow?' and the doctor enumerated several standard medical works, whichwere produced with great alacrity. He then selected four guineas'worth from among them, and handed them over to the astonished student, along with a lecture-ticket, saying: 'Of course, Mr ---- intendedgiving you the same value in books which I do in this ticket!' Thebookseller, although a notoriously parsimonious character, had not aword to say. Dr Barclay took great pride in collecting a library, andinvented the following device as a mark for his books: His initialswere engraved in the centre of an oval, at the top was the sun, withthe motto--'I weary not;' below, was a mountain, with 'I am firm;' andsurrounding all, 'Excel if you can. '

These graphic mottos became the guiding-stars of John Dickson'scareer: he wearied not, nor wavered in whatever pursuit he engaged;and it was to this indomitable industry that he owed his success inlife. His perseverance was displayed even in his amusements; he wasfond of music, but had not a sufficiently correct ear to play theviolin well, yet he would not abandon it, but scraped away year afteryear, in hopes of ultimate success, although in this instance withoutattaining his object. In more important pursuits, his industry wasamply rewarded; and having taken his degree, we must now call theheretofore denizen of the Pit, Dr Dickson, and record, that thestudents of the university, on his leaving Edinburgh, presented himwith a testimonial, to signify their appreciation of his valuabledemonstrations in the class of Practical Anatomy. Some of hispreparations may still be seen in the Museum of the College ofSurgeons. 

An appointment as assistant-surgeon in the navy was now procured forhim; medical officers being then in greater request than they are inthese piping times of peace. With affectionate regret, and not unmanlytears, he left the home that had sheltered him for so many and suchimportant years of his life, and towards which he ever evinced thewarmest attachment. His gratitude was not long in shewing itselfpractically. In a few years, he returned from abroad; and on landingin Britain, heard that the son of his former benefactor, with whom hehad been on the most intimate terms, was desirous of leaving the army, and entering into partnership with some medical man in England, forwhich a considerable sum of money was necessary. Dr Dickson knew fullwell that there might be some difficulty in advancing the requiredamount to the youngest of a family of fourteen; so he addressed abeautiful and touching letter to him--saying, 'that he had already, out of the savings of his pay and prize-money, bought an annuity forhis old mother, and had no one else to provide for. To you, ' continuedhe, 'who always shared your jelly-pieces with me, when we were boys, Iowe a debt of gratitude, and to your family, one which I can neverrepay. I trust you will not now refuse to share my earnings, butfrankly accept of L. 800, to assist you in settling in life. ' Thisnoble offer was, from motives as noble, declined, as well as the samesum, which Dickson now pressed upon his friend, as a _loan_; but anaffectionate correspondence was kept up between them until DrDickson's death, more than thirty years afterwards. 

In 1814, Dr Dickson visited Scotland, and was received as a belovedand honoured guest at the table where, long ago, he had waited as aservant, and where had sat the stranger gentleman in regimentals, whoclapped him on the shoulder, and spoke to him words of encouragementwhich perhaps had sunk deeper into his mind than he was conscious ofhimself. His native politeness had always been remarkable, and now hisgeneral information and agreeable manners made his society a trueacquisition. After a few months' visit, he left Scotland never toreturn. Again he went abroad, and finally settled at Tripoli, theAfrican port on the Mediterranean, under the Turkish dominion. Herethe sultan's viceroy, the pacha, soon appointed Dr Dickson to be hischief physician--a post which he held for thirty years under varioussuccessive pachas, although the rival claimants for vice-regalauthority sometimes fought so fiercely, that the English residentswere glad to seek shelter in Malta, until it was decided who shouldreign. Still, Dr Dickson never lost his office, which has nowdescended to his son; an extraordinary instance of permanent favourunder so arbitrary a government. Dr Dickson had married a Scottishlady, and being now settled in every way, his life, so far as we know, affords no farther incidents necessary to record. It was a career, however, of continued usefulness and benevolence, and, surrounded by apromising family, who revered their father, we believe he enjoyed asmuch happiness as usually falls to the lot of humanity. 

One only drawback there was to the favour in which he stood with thepacha: the doctor was obliged, when attending the high ladies of thecourt, to drink in their presence one-half of every drug heprescribed--a custom it might not be amiss to introduce into England, although not with the view, as in Tripoli, of guarding against poison!Dr Dickson also acted as consul for Portugal, although for many yearshe received no salary: at last, on paying a flying visit to London, two years before his death, he was recommended to go home by Lisbon toseek redress. He found, however, that amid the clash of politicalfactions, justice was difficult to be found, and so he gave up boththe search and the post. 

The estimation in which Dr Dickson was held at Tripoli, both by theEnglish residents and native population, cannot be better describedthan by quoting entire a paragraph from a London newspaper, whichinserted a notice of his death in the year 1847: 'Letters fromTripoli, just received, announce the death, on the 27th February, after only four days' illness, of Dr John Dickson, a half-pay surgeonof the British navy, who had been upwards of thirty years a residentat Tripoli, and where, such was the extent of his gratuitousattendance on the indigent, that the mournful event cannot but belooked upon as a great public calamity; and happening as it did, atthe very instant the first gun announced the anniversary of the birthof the Prophet, not a few of the Mohammedans regarded the event with asuperstitious awe. On the 1st of March, the remains of the lamenteddeceased were interred in the Protestant cemetery, which is distantabout two miles from the town, escorted by a military guard of honour, sent by order of his Excellency the Pacha, and followed not only byevery foreign consul, but by all the European residents of everyclass, and by several thousands of Jews and Mohammedans; and soanxious were many whom he had attended professionally to pay this lasttribute of respect to his memory, that they actually rose from theirbeds of sickness and joined the mournful procession. Whilst it passedalong the crowded streets, the shrieks and cries of the nativesbewailing his death were audible, issuing from the miserable hovelswhich he had been wont to enter, to prescribe for suffering humanity. '

After this, it is needless to add anything in the way of exhortation. The little history here given is full of encouragement. It is that ofa man who raised himself from humble life, not, it is true, to anydazzling eminence, but to a respectable and respected position insociety; and this not by means of rare talent, but simply by industry, perseverance, and general propriety of conduct. The interest of thepiece, we believe, would have been much lessened, had we, throughfalse delicacy, withheld the real name of the individual. It ishappily not the fashion in our day for self-educated and self-raisedmen to blush for their origin; and we are quite sure that every wordof this narrative will be read both with pride and pleasure by theflourishing and widely-scattered family of Dr John Dickson. 

A DAY AT THE BATHS OF LUCCA. 

The baths of Lucca, ever since the opening of the continent, have beengraced annually by the presence of from four to five hundred English, who shew their good taste in selecting this miniature Switzerland fortheir residence during the summer months. It is, in truth, a lovelyvalley, with its thickly-wooded hills, and shady lanes, and murmuringriver; while the irregularity of the villages, or clusters of houseswhere travellers are generally lodged, give variety and interest tothe landscape. 

The first of these groups of buildings is the Ponte a Serraglio. Hereare the principal hotels; the post-office; the English reading-roomand club; the Casino; a few small shops dignified by such names as'Magazine of Novelties, ' and 'The Real Bazaar;' and a caffè; wherecongregate all the idlers of the community. 

About a mile further on, attainable by a pretty road, winding at thefoot of a mountain bordered by acacia trees, and overhanging the riverSerchio, is situated the Villa--another range of tenements, theinhabitants of which arrogate to themselves greater staidness ofdemeanour than their brethren at the Ponte, thinking, perhaps, thatthe vicinity of the English chapel--a handsome structure, in the styleof an ancient Venetian palace--may vindicate this assumption ofdecorum. There is but one hotel at the Villa--calm, dignified, andfrigid; the remainder of a long rambling street of which the place iscomposed, consists entirely of lodging-houses, having gardens attachedto each, where little children may be seen playing at the doors, andEnglish nurse-maids pursuing their laborious avocations. Thispreponderance of small children at the Villa, is as much itscharacteristic distinction, as whatever relates to gaiety, or novelty, or scandal, may be considered the peculiar attribute of the Ponte. 

A distinct race inhabit the Bagni alla Villa--a group of housesinaccessible to carriages, rising on a hill behind the palacebelonging to the ex-duke of Lucca. A fourth division of dwellings isthe Bagni Caldi, the highest point of all, the occupants whereof haveto descend as if from an eyrie, to gain any of the other localities. They are a set of whom little seems to be known--quaint and unsocialpersonages, venturing out at dusk like bats and owls, and lookinggrimly on all but their immediate neighbours: the gentlemen, mostlygouty, or otherwise disabled; the fairer sex, isolated and ancient, with a marked predilection for close straw-bonnets, large brownparasols, and blue veils. 

Thus much for the first outline of the place and its frequenters. Wemust now take a glance at their pursuits and enjoyments. 

The general tenor of a day at the baths is easily described. Tillabout five in the afternoon but few people venture out, although earlyin the morning it is said that some, more active than the rest, sallyforth on their mountain rambles; but this deponent vouches not fortheir number or degree, never himself having had ocular demonstrationof their movements. During the heat of the day, the greater partremain at home, excepting, indeed, the population of the Ponte, who, exulting in all the advantages their position unites, circulate fromthe post-office to the caffè, from the caffè to the club, and condolewith such of the hapless denizens of the Villa and Bagni Caldi as athirst for news and devouring ennui have driven to brave a hot summerwalk to their more favoured region. 

There is always, even at noon, a buzz of animation in the littlepiazza of the Ponte--always a knot of worthies in loose brown hollandcoats and straw-hats, talking over every passing occurrence. Thebanker's office, too, is situated here, and that is a lounge initself--a sort of private committee-room for the discussing of anyfresh piece of gossip, ere it is submitted for dissection to thepublic at large. The English banker has now become an importantfeature in all continental circles. The unsophisticated beings who, perchance, imagine his duties simply limited to cashing travellers'bills, and discounting circular-notes, have now an opportunity oflearning over how wide a field of action his arduous avocations mustbe spread. The English banker should be imperturbably good-tempered, active, and obliging; allowing no difficulties to dismay, noungraciousness to offend him. His clients' happiness, interest, comfort, and amusement are his engrossing thought; and if, afterexperiencing an infinity of trouble, rudeness, and vexation, his onlyreturn should be the half-percentage on a L. 50 draft, he is expectedto smile, be contented, and with undaunted resolution, pursue the sametrain of kindness and civility towards the next new-comer. Thebanker's wife has also her line of tactics to pursue. She must call onall the influential families who bring letters of recommendation toher husband; listen with interest to all the detailed miseries oftravelling with young children; and be sympathisingly anxious aboutlittle hopeful's eyeteeth. She must be an adept at writing notes, andbe possessed of an immense store of local information to supply theincessant inquiries with which she is assailed. She must also givetea-parties and dances, get partners for all the disengaged youngladies, and stand up herself, if necessary, to complete the quadrille. Finally, she must be above feeling any affront or mortification, andlearn to consider herself in the light in which she is commonlyregarded--a sort of machine pertaining to the bank: just as much apart of the establishment, in fact, as the iron money-chest whichstands in the office, and created solely for the advantage andconvenience of her travelling country-people. 

When the continental banker happens to have no wife, in his own personmust be united the attributes I have described; and with a beamingface, and frank shake of the hand, must he advance from his desk togreet every visitor who breaks in upon his hours of business. Let ustake a peep, for instance, one July morning, into the bank. 

Two or three old _habitués_ are reading the newspapers; before them isa table on which are army and navy lists; notices of the arrivals anddepartures of the French and Peninsular Steam-Navigation Company'spackets from Leghorn; itineraries of the baths; cards of professors ofvarious languages, &c. The banker is writing. Enter a lady; a boy, with turn-down collar and very red ears; a little girl in a nice hat;a Swiss _bonne_; and a baby, with a blue sash and feather. 

_Banker. _ (_Advancing cordially. _) Ah, Mrs Worryemwell, how do you do?(_Pats the boy on the head. _) And how are you, my fine fellow? (_Givesthe baby an amicable poke in the ribs, whereat it laughs and crowsuproariously. _) Take a seat on the sofa, will you, Mrs Worryemwell;and now, tell me, when did you leave Florence?

_Mrs Worryemwell. _ The day before yesterday. We should have been heresooner, but we missed the train for Lucca, because one of the trunkswas left behind at the Pisa station, and I would not move till it wasfound. 

_Banker. _ (_Anxiously. _) But you recovered it, I trust?

_Mrs W. _ Yes; but we are in sad trouble now: a canister of arrow-rootmust have remained on the Lucca Railway, and baby will get ill withoutit. We had a good many small packages, and this one was overlooked inthe confusion; but--

_Banker. _ (_Promptly. _) I'll write to the clerk in charge at thestation about it at once. 

_Mrs W. _ Oh! thank you. I was going to ask you to do so. A brown, japanned canister, fastened down with some strong twine. 

_Banker. _ Very good, very good. How do you like your house at theVilla? I gave orders that the beds should be aired, and charcoal andoil provided before your arrival, just as you directed. 

_Mrs W. _ Thank you; pretty well; but, as usual with all Italians, theowners are most disobliging. I wanted a cot put in for baby, but theysay they have none, and that it was not stipulated for in theagreement. Now, surely (_impressively_), surely a person of yourexperience would never take a house for a lady and young childrenwithout such an indispensable thing as a cot?

_Banker. _ You did not mention it in your letter, my good lady, andhaving four other friends' lodgings to fix that same day, it has, Ifear, escaped me. (_Good-humouredly. _) But we'll try and arrangematters. I'll come down and talk to the Padrone di Casa--

_Mrs W. _ (_Taking a memorandum out of her reticule. _) Let me see. Ah, yes! butter, milk, eggs. Could you favour me with the exact prices ofall these necessaries? for I am certain the people of the house havecheated in what they have procured for us. 

_Banker. _ Certainly. One of my clerks shall procure you everyinformation. 

_Mrs W. _ Ah, yes! and if you will come this afternoon to the Villa, you can also insist on their white-washing my English servant's room. It overlooks the garden, and a scorpion was found on the window thismorning. Now, white-washing the walls is the only safeguard; it wouldreally annoy me if he were stung. 

_Banker. _ I will see about that too. Ahem! I must write at once aboutthe arrow-root, or the post will have left. Can I supply you with anymoney?

_Mrs W. _ You are very kind. I must think--(_putting her hand to herhead_)--a few more things I wished to ask. Do you remember them, Freddy dear?

_Boy. _ (_Huskily, and blushing. _) Club, church, pony. 

_Mrs W. _ Very right, love. What is the subscription to the club andreading-room?

_Banker. _ Three napoleons for the season. 

_Mrs W. _ Will you enter my name? They give parties there sometimes, Ibelieve. Ah, then the church! how much is that?

_Banker. _ Three sittings for you and your two children will not amountto quite so much as the club. 

_Mrs W. _ Of course not. But even so it is a bad system. The churchought not to be made a medium of traffic--paying for church-seatsalways gives me a headache. I think, do you know, two sittings will besufficient; yes, put me down for two. I will take Freddy in themorning, and his sister in the afternoon. That is all, I believe. 

_Boy. _ (_In an agitated manner, whispers_) Pony!

_Mrs W. _ Ah, true, dear! Can you recommend me where to hire a pony formy boy?

_Banker. _ To be sure I can. (_Giving a card. _) Here are the addressand terms of a man who lets them out either by the day or month. Ahem!--would you like the money in gold or dollars?

_Mrs W. _ I am much obliged. On one other subject perhaps you couldassist me. There really seems no one worth knowing here at present, except a family who always reside at the baths, and often receive, andhave written a book, and are quite celebrated. I should like--

_Banker. _ (_Hurriedly. _) Really, that I fear I cannot manage for you. The arrow-root--

_Mrs W. _ (_Rising. _) Oh, very well. It is late, I am afraid. I neednot trouble you to-day for money, I believe. I brought sufficient fromFlorence for the present; we will wait till the exchange is morefavourable. 

_Banker. _ (_Heartily. _) No matter; you can have it whenever youplease. I shall come this afternoon and put all in order for you. 

_Mrs W. _ Thank you. Good-morning. (_Shakes hands, and exit. _)

In this manner, and through similar interruptions, much of thebanker's time is taken up, till near three o'clock, which is thegeneral dinner-hour at the baths. Many people are supplied with thisrenovating meal from the Europa Hotel at the Ponte, which is presidedover by one of the most honest, obliging, indefatigable, andenterprising landlords in existence. Not only has he the direction ofthree hotels at the Ponte, two of them off-shoots from the parentEuropa, but he undertakes the herculean task of daily sending forththirty-six dinners to different families; the whole requiring acombination of artistic resource and fertility of intellect that fullyjustifies his right to the appellation bestowed on him by theex-duke--that of 'the Napoleon of inn-keepers. ' These repasts areconveyed in large tin boxes, containing warm embers, on which areplaced the various dishes of which the dinner is composed; and theyare carried to their destinations on the heads of divers active, nimble-footed _marmitons_. As the hour of three approaches, numbers ofthese emissaries are seen gliding swiftly along the roads; and I neveryet encountered one without comparing him to the slave who appeared atthe bidding of the Genius of the Lamp, and bore a sumptuous banquet tothe presence of Aladin. 

After thus recruiting the inward man, the whole population of thebaths seem suddenly to kindle into activity; and soon after five everyone is astir. Some ride, some drive, some walk. You see every varietyof conveyance, from the last London-built carriage, and liveryservants, to an unpretending one-horse _timonella_; and in the samemanner amongst the equestrians, the most ill-favoured little pony, itsrider equipped in a straw-bonnet, with a shawl pinned across thesaddle, will unblushingly thrust itself into companionship with ahandsome English horse, whose owner is graced by the mostunexceptionable habit and other appliances. Even the very donkeys walkalong with dignified resolution, as if determined to ruffle it withthe best, and not yield an inch of their prerogative. In fact, theyevidently know their own value, and remember that not one of the hillsaround--not the giant tree on the heights of Lugliano, nor thetempting strawberry-gardens on the mountain of Benabbio--could beattained without their help. A few veteran ponies, it is true, nowclaim equal sureness of foot, but the popular feeling still leanstowards the long-eared auxiliaries, who always lead the way on suchexcursions, displaying an accuracy of judgment which would notdiscredit their far-famed relations in the frightful passes of theAndes. 

Thus the evening wears on; gradually the children and babies disappearfrom the scene; then follow the invalids, who had ventured out to sunthemselves in the genial afternoon; and soon parties of riders areseen returning, their laughter and cheerful voices sounding pleasantlyon the ear, leading one to fancy there may be some happy people afterall! It is amusing, too, to watch some of those on foot, who stop intheir homeward way, and peer wistfully over a range of greenpalisades, that border the road in the vicinity of the Villa, andthrough a screen of spreading foliage, catch tempting glimpses of awinding path and veranda-like portico, where there are birds, andflowers, and vases, and which leads the way to a perfect Tusculumwithin. This dwelling is an object of interest to all the visitors atthe baths; and if, like the banker's client, they have beenunsuccessful in their overtures to procure access to its circle, theysometimes, nevertheless, hover curiously in the neighbourhood, and aredisposed to be indignant at not having an 'open sesame' to its doors. 

But as night begins to close, even these dissatisfied pedestrians musthasten their steps, for it is near tea-time, and almost every one atthe baths has some one else to spend the evening with him. There isalways a vast demolition of cold chickens, and cakes, and preserves, and then a little music, and a little conversation, and an immensedeal of gossip. The general complaint is, that the place is ratherdull; and, indeed, it must be owned, that formerly there were morefacilities for spending a gay season than at present. 

Some years ago, when the ex-duke came with his little court, weeklyballs were given at his residence, as well as at the Casino. But allthese scenes of pleasure have now passed away. The Grand-duke ofTuscany, the present possessor of Lucca, has at this moment weightiercares to occupy his attention than the summer amusements of awatering-place; the Casino, so long the opprobrium of the baths, isnow closed--it is to be hoped for ever; and the English Club, orCercle de Réunion, though at present in every respect flourishing, hashad too much experience of the ungracious office of giving eveningparties, to be inclined to resume the attempt. 

The diversions of Lucca during the last summer were judicially limitedto rides and quiet tea-parties, and it may be said, that before eleveno'clock every social réunion breaks up. About ten o'clock, in fact, the shawling processes commence; and servants are seen escorting hometheir _padroni_, holding lanterns carefully near the ground, to guardagainst the contingency of their stepping on the toads, which disportthemselves in all the lanes at night, and are of the size ofrespectable tortoises. 

Then gradually the lights in every window disappear, fewer and fewervoices are borne upon the breeze, and ere the midnight bell hastolled, all is darkness and repose. 

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS OF A SAILOR'S LIFE AT SEA. 

One of the visions of youth is, that the life of a sailor is all fun, frolic, and happiness. Can there be anything more delightful, theythink, than sailing about on the wide ocean, visiting far-distantregions of the earth, and seeing the strange manners of differentcountries? Little are they aware of the constant toil to which thepoor mariner is exposed--the perils he encounters, the thankless lifehe is generally doomed to lead. He is, in fact, compelled to endurepretty much the lot of a slave; for, as is well known, government onshipboard is a species of despotism, often a cruel tyranny. Remonstrance in nearly every circumstance is in vain--it is mutiny. Nomatter how roughly orders are issued; they must be implicitly obeyed. 'D'ye murmur? Hold your tongue, you rascal, or I'll put you in irons!'Such is not a particularly uncommon form of address to the sailor, whoso far forgets his position as to even hint a difference of opinion. Possibly, it is quite right, for the sake of discipline, and thesafety of all concerned, that severity should be employed. We merelynote the circumstance. 

In the very best conducted ships, however, there must necessarily betoils and trials of temper. The most tormenting thing in a sailor'sprofession, is the want of that regular alternation of work throughthe day, and repose through the night, which is enjoyed by ordinarymortals. This is a matter on which so little is known, that we areinduced to expatiate upon it. Dear landsmen! would you like to knowhow idly and jovially a foremast Jack gets through his twenty-fourhours at sea? Listen; and when we have 'said our say, ' envy poor Jackhis romantic calling, and begrudge him his L. 2, 10s. Or L. 3 per month, as much as you can find in your hearts. 

We are in the chief mate's watch (the larboard), and come on deck forthe middle watch--that is, at 12 P. M. --having had our spell below offour hours during the first night-watch (8 P. M. To 12 P. M. ) It is acold, dark, squally night, with frequent heavy showers of rain--infact, what seamen emphatically call 'dirty' weather, and ourpea-jackets and sou'-westers are necessary enough. Hardly have we goton deck, ere the mate, who is a bit of a 'driver, ' begins to orderthis brace to be pulled, that yard to be squared, this sheet to bebelayed, that sail to be clewed up, and t'other set. The wind howls, the rain beats, the ship staggers, the salt spray flies over us fromtime to time. During the space of three bells, we have our handspretty full, and then the mate bawls: 'For'ard there! In with jib; layout, men!' The vessel is buried to her bight-heads every plunge shetakes, and sometimes the solid sea pours over her bowsprit as far asthe but-end of the flying jib-boom. But to hear is of course to obey;and while some of our messmates spring to the downhaul of the jib, andrattle it down the stay, we and another man get out along thebowsprit, and with our feet resting on the slippery, knotted footropeto windward, we clutch hold of the jib, which is hanging down andlashing over to leeward. Pitch, pitch--splash, dash, go the bows; atone moment we are tossed high in the air, and the next we sink so lowthat the water reaches up to our knees as the ship settles down again, only to rise for a plunge heavier than before. We have just got thejib half-stowed, 'after a fashion, ' when our messmate sings out: 'Holdhard, Jack!' and we cling for dear life. The next instant, a waverolls a fathom high over our head, and we emerge, spluttering andgasping from a genuine cold salt-water bath, such as the hydropathistshave no idea of. Before our nice little job is completed, we get twoor three more comfortable duckings, and finally crawl on boardhalf-drowned, and thankful that we were not altogether washed away, asmany better fellows have been, at that same blessed task ofjib-furling on a stormy night. 

We have just given ourselves a good shake, like a Newfoundland dog, when four bells (2 A. M. ) strike, and the man at the wheel is of courserelieved, his time being up. It happens to be our turn, or 'trick, ' atthe wheel, and we must at once take to it, all dripping and exhaustedas we are. The ship steers wildly, and we have continually to ease herwhen she pitches; yet, do what we can, the grumbling mate has many acomplimentary word for us, flatteringly intimating his opinion, thatwe 'know no more about steering than our grandmother; but _he'll_ workour old iron up to some tune, before he's done with us!' Ere our trickis out, our arms feel as stiff as iron bars, from the violent andunremitting strain on their muscles. The mate has steaming hot coffeebrought him; but there's not a drop for poor Jack, if it would savehis life. Oh, how we long to hear eight bells strike! At length they_do_ strike, and the watch below are bid to 'tumble up, Beauties, andhave a look at the lovely scenery!' We are then relieved at the wheel, and go below with our watch, hoping to enjoy four hours of blessedoblivion. 

We swing ourself into our hammock (or berth, as it may happen), andare fast asleep in a minute. But we have not been an hour in the Landof Nod, ere three heavy blows from a handspike are struck on theforecastle hatch, which is then slid back, and a hoarse voice bawls:'All ha-ands a-ho-oy! tumble up to reef tops'ls!' Out we bundle, andgrope for our clothes (the forecastle being as dark as a dog's mouth), get them on somehow, and hurry-scurry on deck. We find the weather andsea altered much for the worse, and the Old Man (captain) himself onthe quarter-deck, giving orders to the mates, who are tearing about, bawling and swearing like demons; while the 'idlers'--that is to say, the carpenter, steward, cook, and boys, who keep no regularwatch--have all been roused up, to bear a hand, and 'pull theirpound. ' Halliards are let go, reef-tackles hauled chock-a-block, andwe lay aloft helter-skelter, best man up first, and bend over theyard, till the weather-earing is secured; and then comes the welcomecry: 'Haul to leeward!' It is done, and then we all 'knot-away' withthe reef-points. The reef having been taken (or two, perchance), weshin down again to mast-head the topsails, and get all in sailingtrim. A grog is now served out, and we go below, to sleep out the restof our four hours, one of which we have been deprived of by thisreefing job. Sometimes it happens, however, that we lose three, or allfour, when there is absolute necessity for all hands on deck. 

Here, we pause a moment, to say a word on the serving of grog--acomposition of rum and water. The use of this stuff is of old date inthe navy, and would seem to be considered essential to navigation. Inwhat are called temperance ships, no grog is served, neither afterreefing topsails, nor at any other time; but what is very shameful, inmany instances no substitute is allowed. If sailors might have coffeeinstead of rum, they would thankfully accept the substitute, forcoffee is incomparably a better stimulant. The invigoration from rumis only momentary, and afterwards is perhaps rather pernicious; butthe wholesome effect of coffee is felt for an hour. So they veryexcusably observe, 'Better grog than nothing!'

To resume the tenor of our narrative: at eight bells (8 A. M. ) we aresummoned on duty again, and find that the squall has passed over, andthat it is now a fine sunshiny morning, with all available sail set, and only a heavy swell of the sea to tell what the night has been. Wenow get our breakfast (half an hour allowed for that), and the otherwatch, which has been eight hours up to our four, gets a forenoonwatch below (8 A. M. To 12 A. M. ) Alterations of sails and rigging, andno end of small jobs, keep us hard at work till eight bells (noon)once more strike, and we then get our luxurious dinner of a pound anda half of salt junk, with biscuits. But junk is capital stuff forsheathing material, when it _is_ good: unfortunately, however, it toofrequently is 'old horse;' and whatever its quality happens to be, allthe nice juicy pieces are invariably picked out for the cabin table. Anything will do for poor Jack. His biscuits, too, are sometimes quitealive with weevils, especially on a long voyage in hot latitudes. 

After dinner, all hands are on deck, and kept there till dark. In verylarge merchantmen, and all warships, this rule is departed from, andthe watch is not so torturing--so true is it that the servants insmall establishments, whether on sea or land, are always the worsttreated. However, we suppose that the hands are on deck. The breezehas now almost died away, and the sea runs in long, low, slow swells;the ship gently rocking, and the sails occasionally collapsing with acrash against the creaking masts. Surely, thinks the landsman, thereis now nothing for Jack to do but turn his quid, crack his joke, smokehis pipe, or overhaul his chest, and put the things to rights in theforecastle, after the 'hurrah's nest' created by the squall in thepast night? Ah, friend, it is very evident that _you_ don't 'know theropes!' When on deck, a sailor is never idle in the day-time; even ifrain is pouring, something is found for him to do; and in fineweather, like the day we are describing, there is a superabundance ofwork. The carpenter has his bench out--for 'a ship is like a lady'swatch, always out of repair;' the steward is polishing the brass-workof the quarter-deck; the cook is scouring his pots and pans; thesailmaker is stitching away in the waist; and the crew are, one andall, engaged in picking oakum, spinning yarns (not such yarns as thoseamiable gentlemen, the naval novelists, talk so much about, butrope-yarns, by the aid of spinning-winches), platting sinnet, preparing chafing-gear, bowsing slack rigging taut, painting boats andbulwarks, scraping yards and masts, fitting new running-rigging, overhauling the spare sails, and fifty other things--doing, in fact, everything but idling. And, mind, no conversation is allowed among themen--not a word more than necessary for the performance of theirseveral duties. If they chat at all when on deck, it is 'on the sly, 'and out of sight and hearing of the vigilant officers, who have eyeslike the lynx, and ears as sharp as needles. 

At 4 P. M. Commences the dog-watch--that is, the ordinary watch of fourhours divided into two watches of half that length; and the use ofthem is to shift the rotation of the night-watches. About 6 P. M. Weget supper, and all hands are on deck till eight bells (8 P. M. ), whenthe starboard-watch go below, and we, the larboard-watch, have thefirst night-watch--just as they had it last night, and will the nextafter. There is very probably plenty of work to do in shifting andtrimming sails and rigging till eight bells again strike (12 P. M. ), and then we summon the other watch with: 'Starbowlings, ahoy!' and gobelow in turn; and so ends our day. 

We have given a fair enough specimen of the twenty-four hours of asailor's life at sea; but of course he sometimes has an easier, andsometimes a much harder life of it--depending on the kind of ship, thenature of the voyage, the state of the weather, and the character ofthe captain. Some sea-captains are excellent, kind-hearted men, andmake the unavoidably hard duties of their crew as easy as it ispossible; but others--and very many we fear--are terrible salt-watertyrants. A captain is the absolute master of all on board--hisgovernment, as we have said, is a despotism; and this ever-presentsense of his will being law while afloat, too often hardens andbrutalises an originally kind heart. 

Landsmen! do you now envy and begrudge a living to the poorblue-jackets, who risk limb and life to carry on your commerce withthe uttermost ends of the earth, and who man the wooden walls thatalone render Britain the invincible mistress of the world? Ladies!dear, tender-hearted ladies! do _you_ feel indifferent to the hard lotof the gallant fellows who sail the trackless ocean to supply you withsilks and diamonds, with sugar and tea, and every conceivable luxuryof dress and food? Be kind, we implore you, to Poor Jack, wherever youmeet him, for he would shed the last drop of blood in his veins todefend you! Make every Christian allowance for his follies and hissins when ashore. Do all you can--and we think you might do much ifyou would--to ameliorate his physical condition, and you will improvehis moral one at the same time. For ourselves, we can only say that weever shall own Poor Jack as a messmate and a brother, and while wehave a shot in the locker, he shall freely share it, God help him!

INFLUENCE OF EXAMPLE. 

In a certain village in Switzerland, some years ago, there were heavycomplaints among all who possessed trees, that no fruit was safe; thatthe children plundered it perpetually before it came to maturity; andnot only that, but that the green saplings had no security againstthem. Another serious complaint was the barbarity of the childrentowards all living creatures in their power. The clergyman, teacher, and elders, often laid their heads together, to find some remedy forthis inhuman spirit, by which every child in the place was more orless affected. They could not conceive why such a spirit shouldprevail so specially in _this_ village; but they could find neithercause nor remedy: all exhortations, all punishments, were in vain. Theclergyman of the village was changed; and the new minister was a greatfriend to schools. His first walk was to the school-house. The vice ofthe scholars had been made known to him, and the failure of allpreventive measures hitherto applied. But, determining within himselfto watch the whole course of proceedings in school, he soon perceivedthat the teacher had a habit, and had acquired a singular dexterity init, of knocking down and killing flies with his cane, to the end ofwhich he had fastened a piece of leather. The windows were all on oneside, and being exposed to the morning sun of summer, they werecontinually full of flies. The teacher's path lay along them, in frontof his scholars; and while talking to the latter, he struck down theflies as they shewed themselves at the window. This manoeuvre amusedthe children infinitely more than his instruction did, and theyfollowed his example. They were incessantly on the watch for fliesthat buzzed through the room, caught them in their hands, and shewedas great dexterity in this kind of chase as their teacher in his. Buttheir amusement did not end here: they had learned to play with theircaptives, treat them with detestable cruelty, and seemed to find awicked delight in observing the shivering of their victims. 

On observing these curious and far from pleasing peculiarities of theschool, the intelligent and humane clergyman easily accounted for thespirit of destructiveness among the children; and his first step wasto induce the teacher to take his leather from the end of the cane;and next, to turn the desks so that the boys sat with their backs tothe windows, and the teacher's path lay on the other side of the room. Then the minister went frequently into the school, and examined soseverely, that both teacher and pupils had more to do than to givetheir attention to the flies. As this was not yet entirelysatisfactory in its results, the minister took advantage of the hotsummer weather, to have instruction given only in the afternoon, whenthe school was not so full of flies, and thus he gradually banishedthe insects from the thoughts of teacher and children. But he knewthat it was of little avail solely to pull the weeds out of the youngmind. He obtained an unoccupied piece of land fit for planting, and, not far from the school, laid out a school-garden. This pleased theteacher, and the children willingly took part in the task, for theyhad soon learned to like their new minister, who came and workedamongst them. The garden was surrounded by a hedge planted with treesand shrubs, and each child had a tree or shrub given him to take careof. A nursery was soon laid out, and provision made for plenty oflarger gardens and orchards in the village. And, behold! the spiritof destructiveness among the children soon passed away; and everyman's fruit and garden became safe, the youths even begging of theirparents that trees might be planted in the fields for them to takecare of. The new spirit was communicated from children to parents, till it spread throughout the entire village; every family had itspretty little garden; an emulation in cultivating flowers sprang intoexistence; idle and bad habits disappeared; and gradually the wholeplace was a scene of moral as well as of physical beauty. 

This incident, the truth of which can be vouched for, has beencommunicated to us by a lady of rank, who happens to have latelybecome acquainted with the circumstances, and has thought that theirpublicity may be advantageous. We have no doubt of the fact, that thepractice of amateur gardening is never associated with evil, but isalways a token of advanced tastes and correct habits. Let every one, therefore, within his sphere, do what he can to promote this mostdesirable pursuit. We would further say, let every school, so far asit can conveniently be done, have its garden, not only for purposes ofamusement, but as an important engine of education. 

FACTS AS TO OYSTER-EATING. 

The consumption of oysters in London is enormous. During the season of1848-49, 130, 000 bushels of oysters were sold in our metropolis. Amillion and a half of these shell-fish are consumed during each seasonin Edinburgh, being at the rate of more than 7300 a day. Fifty-twomillions were taken from the French channel banks during the course ofthe year 1828; and now the number annually dredged is probablyconsiderably greater, since the facilities of transport by railgreatly increase the inland consumption of these as of other marineluxuries. French naturalists report, that before an oyster isqualified to appear in Paris, he must undergo a course of education indiscretion; for the artificial oyster-beds on the French coast, wherethe animals are stored to be carried away as required, are constructedbetween tide-marks; and their denizens, accustomed to pass the greaterpart of the twenty-four hours beneath the water, open their valves andgape when so situated, but close them firmly when they are exposed bythe recession of the tide. Habituated to these alternations ofimmersion and exposure, the practice of opening and closing theirvalves at regular intervals becomes natural to them, and would bepersisted in to their certain destruction, on their arrival in Paris, were they not ingeniously trained so as to avert the evil. Each batchof oysters intended to make the journey to the capital, is subjectedto a preliminary exercise in keeping the shell closed at other hoursthan when the tide is out; until at length the shell-fish have learnedby experience that it is necessary to do so whenever they areuncovered by sea-water. Thus they are enabled to enter the metropolisof France as polished oysters ought to do, not gaping like astoundedrustics. A London oyster-man can tell the ages of his flock to anicety. They are in perfection when from five to seven years old. Theage of an oyster is not to be found out by looking into its mouth; itbears its years upon its back. Everybody who has handled anoyster-shell must have observed that it seemed as if composed ofsuccessive layers or plates overlapping each other. These aretechnically termed 'shoots, ' and each of them marks a year's growth;so that, by counting them, we can determine at a glance the year whenthe creature came into the world. Up to the epoch of its maturity, theshoots are regular and successive; but after that time they becomeirregular, and are piled one over the other, so that the shell becomesmore and more thickened and bulky. Judging from the great thickness towhich some oyster-shells have attained, this mollusc is capable, ifleft to its natural changes and unmolested, of attaining a patriarchallongevity. Among fossil oysters, specimens are found occasionally ofenormous thickness; and the amount of time that has passed between thedeposition of the bed of rock in which such an example occurs, andthat which overlies it, might be calculated from careful observationof the shape and number of layers of calcareous matter composing anextinct oyster-shell. In some ancient formations, stratum abovestratum of extinguished oysters may be seen, each bed consisting offull-grown and aged individuals. Happy broods these pre-Adamitecongregations must have been, born in an epoch when epicures were asyet unthought of, when neither Sweeting nor Lynn had come intoexistence, and when there were no workers in iron to fabricateoyster-knives! Geology, and all its wonders, makes known to usscarcely one more mysterious or inexplicable than the creationof oysters long before oyster-eaters and the formation ofoyster-banks--ages before dredgers! What a lamentable heap of goodnourishment must have been wasted during the primeval epochs! When wemeditate upon this awful fact, can we be surprised that bishops willnot believe in it, and, rather than assent to the possibility of somuch good living having been created to no purpose, hold faith withMattioli and Fallopio, who maintained fossils to be the fermentationsof a _materia pinguis_; or Mercati, who saw in them stones bewitchedby stars; or Olivi, who described them as the 'sports of nature;' orDr Plot, who derived them from a latent plastic virtue?--_WestminsterReview, Jan. 1852. _

THE OASES OF LIBYA. 

 Nought wholly waste or wretched will appear Through all the world of Nature or of mind; Hope's tender beamings soften Sorrow's tear, The homeless outcast happy hours will find: To polar snows the Aurora-fires are given, The voice of friendship cheers the groping blind; The dreary night hath stars to deck the heaven; One law prevails beneficently kind: E'en not all darkness is the silent tomb, Faith points to bowers of bliss beyond the gloom. 

 So, Libya, in thy wide and fiery waste, Gladdening the traveller, plots of verdure lie, As if, when demons thence all life had chased, They dropped in beauty from the pitying sky. How weary pilgrims, dragging o'er the plain, When first green Siwah's valleys they espy, [1] Cast off their faintness! swiftly on they strain, Drinking sweet odours, as the breeze floats by: They see the greenery of the swelling hills, They hear, they hear the gush of bubbling rills!

 Oh! beautiful that soul-enchanting scene! The fresh leaves twinkling, and the wild-birds singing; The rocks so mossy, and the grass so green, From tree to tree the vine's young tendrils swinging: Fruits of all hue--pomegranate, plum, and peach, Tempting the eye, and thoughts luxurious bringing; Flowers of all breath that each stray hand may reach, The glittering bee among them blithely winging: While skies more clear, more bluely seem to glow, To match the bright and fairy scene below. 

 NICHOLAS MICHELL. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Siwah, the Ammonia of the ancients, the most fertile of the Oasesof Libya, presenting a succession of undulating hills and greenmeadows, watered by many springs, and producing every description offruit-bearing trees. 

EVIL-SPEAKING. 

The Rev. Mr Stewart advised three questions to be put to ourselvesbefore speaking evil of any man: First, is it true? Second, is itkind? Third, is it necessary?--_Poynder's Literary Extracts_. 

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