CHAMBERS' EDINBURGH JOURNAL

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

 No. 455. NEW SERIES. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 1852. PRICE 1-1/2_d. _

A GLANCE AT CONTINENTAL RAILWAYS. 

When lately making a pretty extensive continental excursion, we werein no small degree gratified with the progress made in theconstruction and operation of railways. These railways, from all thatcould be seen, were doing much to improve the countries traversed, andextend a knowledge of English comforts; for it must always be borne inmind that the railway system, with its locomotives, carriages, waiting-rooms, commodious and cheap transit, and other matters, isessentially English. Hence, wherever one sees a railway in fulloperation, he may be said to see a bit of England. And is not thissomething to be proud of? The railway being your true civiliser, England may be said to have sent out a missionary of improvement, whomnothing can withstand. The continent, with all its stupid despotisms, must improve, and become enlightened in spite of itself. 

The newspapers lately described the opening of the line of railwayfrom Paris to Strasbourg. Those who know what travelling in France wasa few years ago, cannot wonder that Louis Napoleon should have madethis the occasion of a popular demonstration. The opening of this lineof railway is an important European event; certainly it is a greatthing for both France and Germany. English travellers may also thinkmuch of it. A tourist can now journey from London to Paris--Paris tothe upper part of the Rhine at Strasbourg, going through a mostinteresting country by the way--then go down the Rhine to Cologne bysteamer; next, on by railway to Ostend; cross by steamer to Dover;and, finally, reach London--thus doing in a few days, and all by forceof steam, what a short time ago must have been done imperfectly, andwith great toil and expense. Still more to ease the journey, a branchrailway from the Strasbourg line is about being opened from near Metz, by Saarbrück, to Manheim; by which means the Rhine will be reached bya shorter cut, and be considerably more accessible. In a month or two, it will be possible to travel from Paris to Frankfort in twenty-fivehours. All that is wanted to complete the Strasbourg line, is tostrike off a branch from Metz to Luxembourg and Treves; for byreaching this last-mentioned city--a curious, ancient place, which wehad the pleasure of visiting--the traveller is on the Moselle at thespot where it becomes navigable, and he descends with ease by steamerto Coblenz. And so the Rhine would be reached from Paris at threeimportant points. 

Paris, as a centre, is pushing out other lines, with intermediatebranches. Marseille, Bordeaux, Nantes, Rouen, Dieppe, Boulogne, Calais, and Lille, are the outposts of this series of radiation. Thelatest move is a line from Caen to Cherbourg; it will start from theParis and Rouen Railway at Rosny, 40 miles from Paris, and proceedthrough Caen to the great naval station at Cherbourg--a distance of191 miles from Rosny. By the time the great lines in France arefinished--probably 3500 miles in the whole--it is expected that thetotal expenditure will amount, in round numbers, to a hundred millionssterling. 

It is gratifying to know, that the small German powers which border onFrance have been most active in providing themselves with railways;not only for their own accommodation, but to join the lines of othercountries; so as to make great trunk-thoroughfares through theirdominions. There seems to be a cordiality in making these junctions, for general accommodation, that cannot but deserve praise. The truth, however, is, that all these petty states are glad to get hold of meansfor bringing travellers--that is, money-spenders--to their cities andwatering-places, and for developing their long-hidden resources. Forexample, in the district lying between Saarbrück and Manheim, thereexist vast beds of coal, and powerful brine-springs; but hitherto, inconsequence of being out of the way of traffic, and there being onlywretched cars drawn by cows, as the means of locomotion, this greatmineral wealth has been locked up, and next thing to useless. What anoutlet will the Strasbourg and Manheim Railway furnish! Paris may beas well and as cheaply supplied with coal as London. 

Belgium--a kind of little England--has for a number of years been wellprovided with railways; and you may go by locomotion towards itsfrontiers in all directions, except one--namely, that of Holland. Thisodd exception, of course, arose from the ill-will that has subsistedfor a number of years between the Belgians and Dutch; the latter beingnot at all pleased with the violent disjunction of the Netherlands. However, that coolness is now passing off. The two neighbours begin tofind that ill-nature does not pay, and, like sensible people, arenegotiating for a physical union by rail, seeing that a political oneis out of the question. In short, a railway is proposed to be laiddown in an easterly direction from the Antwerp branch, towards theborder of Holland; and by means of steam-boat ferries across the Maasand other mouths of the Rhine, the junction will be effected with theRotterdam and Amsterdam series of railways. The north of Holland isyet a stranger to railways, nor are the towns of such importance as tolead us to expect any great doings there. But the north Germanregion--from the frontiers of Holland to those of Russia and Poland, adistance of something like 1000 miles--is rapidly filling up thechasms in its railway net-work. Emden and Osnaburg and Gottingen inthe west, Danzig and Königsberg and Memel in the east, are yetunprovided; but almost all the other towns of any note in Prussia andNorth Germany are now linked together, and most or all of the abovesix will be so in a few years. 

The Scandinavian countries are more interesting in respect to ourpresent subject, on account of _their_ railway enterprises beingwholly written in the future tense. Denmark has so little continuousland, Sweden has so many lakes, and Norway so many mountains, that, irrespective of other circumstances, railways have not yet reachedthose countries. They are about to do so, however. Hitherto, Denmarkhas received almost the whole of its foreign commodities _viâ_ the twoHanse towns--Hamburg and Bremen; and has exported its cattle andtransmitted its mails by the same routes. The Schleswig-Holstein warhas strengthened a wish long felt in Denmark to shake off thisdependence; but good railways and good steam-ship ports will benecessary for this purpose. When, in April 1851, a steamer crossedrapidly from Lowestoft to Hjerting, and brought back a cargo ofcattle, the Danes felt suddenly independent of the Hamburghers; butthe route from Hjerting to Copenhagen is so bad and tiresome, thatmuch must yet be done before a commercial transit can really beestablished. There was at that time only an open basket-wagon on theroute; there has since been established a diligence; but a railwaywill be the only effective means of transit. Here we must correct amistake in the last paper: Denmark is not quite without railwayaccommodation; there is about 15 miles of railway from Copenhagen toRoeskilde, and this is to be continued across the island of Zealand toKorsör. The Lowestoft project has led to important plans; for arailway has been marked out from Hamburg, through the entire length ofHolstein and Schleswig to the north of Jütland, where five hours'steaming will give access to the Swedish coast; while an east and westline from Hjerting to Copenhagen, with two breaks at the Little Beltand the Great Belt, are also planned. If Denmark can by degrees raisethe requisite capital, both of these trunk-lines will probably beconstructed. 

Norway has just commenced its railway enterprises. It seems strange tofind the familiar names of Stephenson and Bidder, Peto and Brassey, connected with first-stone layings, and health-drinkings, &c. , inremote Norway; but this is one among many proofs of the ubiquity ofEnglish capital and enterprise. The government of Norway has concededthe line to an English company, by whom it will be finished in 1854. The railway will be 50 miles in length; it will extend fromChristiania to Lake Miösen, and will connect the capital with anextensive chain of internal navigation. The whole risk seems to havebeen undertaken by the English company; but the benefits will bemutual for both companies--direct steam-communication from Christianiato some English port being one feature in the comprehensive scheme. 

In Russia, the enterprises are so autocratic, and ordinary joint-stockoperations are so rare, that our Stock Exchange people know verylittle about them. The great lines of railway in Russia, either beingconstructed or definitely planned, are from Warsaw to Cracow (about170 miles); Warsaw to St Petersburg (680 miles); Moscow to StPetersburg (400 miles); from a point on the Volga to another point onthe Don (105 miles); and from Kief to Odessa, in Southern Russia. Thegreat tie which will bind Russia to the rest of Europe, will be theWarsaw and St Petersburg Railway--a vast work, which nothing butimperial means will accomplish. Whether all these lines will be openedby 1862, it is impossible to predict; Russia has to feel its waytowards civilisation. During the progress of the Moscow and StPetersburg Railway, a curious enterprise was determined on. Accordingto the _New York Tribune_, Major Whistler, who had the charge of theconstruction of the railway, proposed to the emperor that therolling-stock should be made in Russia, instead of imported, MessrsHarrison, Winans, and Eastwick, engineers of the United States, accepted a contract to effect this. They were to have the use of somemachine-works at Alexandroffsky; the labour of 500 serfs belonging tothose works at low wages; and the privilege of importing coal, iron, steel, and other necessary articles, duty free. In this way a largesupply of locomotives and carriages was manufactured, to thesatisfaction of the emperor, and the profit of the contractors. Themanagers and foremen were all English or American; but the workmen andlabourers, from 2000 to 3000 in number, were nearly all serfs, who_bought their time_ from their masters for an agreed period, beinginduced by the wages offered for their services: they were found to beexcellent imitative workmen, perfectly docile and obedient. 

Our attention now turns south-westward: we cross Poland and Germany, and come to the Alps. To traverse this mountain barrier will be amongthe great works of the future, so far as the iron pathway isconcerned. In the early part of 1851, the Administration of PublicWorks in Switzerland drew up a sketch of a complete system of railwaysfor that country. The system includes a line to connect Bâle with theRhenish railways; another to traverse the Valley of the Aar, so as toconnect Lakes Zurich, Constance, and Geneva; a junction of thislast-named line with Lucerne, in order to connect it with the Pass ofSt Gothard; a line from Lake Constance to the Grisons; a branchconnecting Berne with the Aar-Valley line; and some small isolatedlines in the principal trading valleys. The whole net-work of theserailways is about 570 English miles; and the cost estimated at aboutL. 4, 000, 000 sterling. It scarcely needs remark, that in such apeculiar country as Switzerland, many years must elapse before even anapproach to such a railway net-work can be made. 

To drive a railway across the Alps themselves will probably be firsteffected by the Austrians. The railway through the Austrian dominionsto the Adriatic at Trieste, although nearly complete, is cut in two bya formidable elevation at the point where the line crosses the easternspur of the great Alpine system. At present, travellers have to postthe distance of seventy miles from Laybach to Trieste, until theengineers have surmounted the barrier which lies in their way. Thetrial of locomotives at Sömmering, noticed in the newspapers a fewmonths ago, related to the necessity of having powerful engines tocarry the trains up the inclines of this line. Further west, theAlpine projects are hidden in the future. The Bavarian Railway, atpresent ending at Munich, is intended to be carried southward, traversing the Tyrol, through the Brenner Pass, to Innsprück andBautzen, following the ordinary route to Trieste, and finally unitingat Verona with the Italian railways. This has not yet been commenced. Westward, again, there is the Würtemberg Railway, which ends atFriedrichshafen on Lake Constance. It is proposed to continue thisline from the southern shore of the lake, across the Alps by the Passof the Splügen, and so join the Italian railways at Como. This, too, is _in nubibus_; the German States and Piedmont are favourable to it;but the engineering difficulties and the expense will be enormous. Other Piedmontese projects have been talked about, for crossing theAlps at different points, and some one among them will probably berealised in the course of years. Meanwhile, Piedmont has a heavy taskon hand in constructing the railway from Genoa to Turin, which isbeing superintended by Mr Stephenson; the Apennines are being crossedby a succession of tunnels, embankments, and viaducts, as stupendousas anything yet executed in Europe. 

In Central Italy, a railway convention has been signed, which, ifcarried out, would be important for that country. It was agreed to in1851 by the Papal, Austrian, Tuscan, Parmese, and Modenesegovernments. The object is to construct a net-work of railways, eachstate executing and paying for its own. Austria is to do the work asfar as Piacenza and Mantua; Tuscany is to finish its lines fromPistoja to Florence and Lucca; the Papal government is to connectBologna with both the former; and the small states are to carry outtheir respective portions. The great difficulty will be, to cutthrough the Apennines, which at present sever Tuscany from the otherstates; but a greater still will be the moral one, arising from thedisordered state of Italy. Rome has conceded to an Anglo-Frenchcompany the construction of a railway from the capital to Ancona; butthat, like all other commercial enterprises in the Papal dominions, islagging sadly. 

Crossing the Pyrenees to view the works in the Peninsula, which_Bradshaw_ may possibly have to register in 1862, we find that, amidthe financial difficulties of Spain, three lines of railway have beenmarked out--from Madrid to Irun; from Aranjuez to Almansa; and fromAlar to Santander. The first would be a great line to the vicinity ofthe French frontier, to cost 600 millions of reals; the second wouldbe part of an intended route from Aranjuez, near Madrid, to theMediterranean; the length to Almansa, involving an outlay of 220millions. The third line, from Santander to Alar del Rey, on theBiscayan seaboard of Spain, is intended to facilitate approach fromthe interior to the rising port of Santander; the outlay is put downat 120 millions. It is difficult to translate these high-sounding sumsinto English equivalents, for there are three kinds of reals in Spain, varying from 2-5/8d. To 5-1/4d. English; but taking even the lowestequivalent, the sum-total amounts to a capital which Spain will havesome difficulty in raising. The Santander line, however, has attractedEnglish capital and engineering towards it; the first sod was turnedby the king-consort in May 1852, and the works are now in progress. There is also an important line from Madrid to the Portuguese frontiernear Badajoz, marked out on paper; but the fruition of this as well asother schemes will mainly depend on the readiness with which Englishcapital can be obtained. Unfortunately, 'Spanish bonds' are not in thebest favour in England. 

Portugal is a _terra incognita_ to railways. It is on the extremestverge of Europe towards the Atlantic; and European civilisation findsentrance there with remarkable slowness. In 1845, the government triedto invite offers from capitalists to construct railways; in 1849, theinvitations were renewed; but the moneyed men were coy, and would notbe wooed. In 1851, the government appointed a commission toinvestigate the whole subject. The commission consisted of fivepersons; and their Report, dated October 20, 1851, contains a largemass of valuable information. It appeared in an English translation insome of the London journals towards the close of the year. Thecommissioners take for granted that Spain will construct railways fromMadrid to the Portuguese frontier at Badajoz on the one side, and tothe French frontier, near Bayonne, on the other; and they then inquirehow best to reach Badajoz from Lisbon. Three routes presentthemselves--one to Santarem, and across the Tagus to Badajoz; anotherto Santarem and Coimbra, and so on into Spain by way of Almeida; and athird to Oporto, and thence by Bragança into Spain. The first ofthese, being more directly in the route to Madrid, is preferred by thecommissioners, who estimate the outlay at a million and a quartersterling. They discuss the terms on which capitalists might possiblybe induced to come to their aid; and they indulge in a hope that, tenyears hence, Lisbon may be united to Central Europe by a railway, ofwhich 260 kilomètres will cross Portugal to Badajoz, 370 from Badajozto Madrid, and about 400 from Madrid to the French frontier, where theParis and Bayonne Railway will continue the route. (Five kilomètresare equal to rather more than three English miles. ) The Continental_Bradshaw_ will, we apprehend, have to wait long before thesepeninsular trunk-lines find a place in its pages. 

Leaving altogether the countries of Europe, and crossing theMediterranean, we find that even Africa is becoming a member of thegreat railway system. After a world of trouble, financial anddiplomatic, the present ruler of Egypt has succeeded in giving realityto a scheme for a railway from Alexandria to the Nile. A glance at amap of Egypt will shew us that a canal extends from Alexandria to theNile, to escape the sanded-up mouths of that famous river. It ismainly to expedite the overland route, so far as concerns the transitalong this canal, that the railway now in process of construction hasbeen planned; anything beyond this, it will be for future ages todevelop. The subject of the Isthmus of Suez and its transit has beenfrequently treated in this _Journal_, and we will therefore saynothing more here, than that our friend _Bradshaw_ will, in allprobability, have something to tell us concerning the land of Egyptbefore any long time has elapsed. 

Asia will have a spider-line of railway by and by, when the slow-coachproceedings of the East India Company have given something like formto the Bombay and Bengal projects; but at present the progress ismiserably slow; and _Bradshaw_ need not lay aside a page for the richOrient for many years to come. 

There are a few general considerations respecting the present aspectof the railway system, interesting not only in themselves, but asgiving a foretaste of what is to come. In the autumn of last year, acareful statistician calculated that the railways of Europe andAmerica, as then in operation, extended in the aggregate to 25, 350miles, the total cost of which was four hundred and fifty millions ofpounds. Of this, the United Kingdom had 7000 miles, costingL. 250, 000, 000. According to the view here given, the 7000 miles of ourown railways have been constructed at an expense prodigiously greaterthan the remaining 18, 350 miles in other parts of the world. It needsno figures to prove that this is the fact. Many of the continental andAmerican railways are single lines, and so far they have been got upat a comparatively small cost. But the substantial difference ofexpense lies in our plan of leaving railway undertakings to privateparties--rival speculators and jobbers, whose aim has too frequentlybeen plunder. And how enormous has been that plunder let enrichedengineers and lawyers--let impoverished victims--declare. Shame on theBritish legislature, to have tolerated and legalised the railwayvillainies of the last ten years; in comparison with which theenforcements of continental despotisms are angelic innocence!

Besides being got up in a simple and satisfactory manner, undergovernment decrees and state responsibility, the continental railwaysare evidently more under control than those of the United Kingdom. Thespeed of trains is regulated to a moderate and safe degree; on allhands there seems to be a superior class of officials in charge; andas the lines have been made at a small cost, the fares paid bytravellers are for the most part very much lower than in this country. Government interference abroad is, therefore, not altogether a wrong. Annoying as it may sometimes be, and bad as it avowedly is inprinciple, there is in it the spirit of protection against privateoppression. And perhaps the English may by and by discover thatjobbing-companies, with stupendous capital and a monopoly ofconveyance, are capable of doing as tyrannical things as anycontinental autocrat!

If a section of the English public stands disgraced in the eyes ofEurope by its vicious speculation--properly speaking, gambling--inrailway finance, our country is in some degree redeemed from obloquyby the grandeur of a social melioration which jobbing has not beenable to obstruct. The wide spread of railways over the continent, wehave said, is working a perceptible change in almost all thosearrangements which bear on the daily comforts of life. No engine of amerely physical kind has ever wrought so powerfully to secure lastinginternational peace as the steam-engine. The locomotive is every hourbreaking down barriers of separation between races of men. And as warsin future could be conducted only by cutting short the journeys byrailway, arresting trains, and ruining great commercial undertakings, we may expect that nations will pause before rushing into them. Already, the French railways, which push across the frontier into theGerman countries, are visibly relaxing the custom-house and passportsystems. Stopping a whole train at an imaginary boundary to examinefifteen hundred passports, is beyond even the French capacity forofficial minutiæ. A hurried glance, or no glance at all--a shaminspection at the best--is all that the gentlemen with moustaches andcocked-hats can manage. The very attempt to look at bushels ofpassports is becoming an absurdity. And what has to be done in thetwinkling of an eye, will, we have no doubt, soon not be done at all. Thanks to railways for this vast privilege of free locomotion!

A NEW PRINCIPLE IN NATURE. 

It is pretty well known that researches by Matteucci, Du Bois-Reymond, and others, have made us acquainted with the influence of electricityand galvanism on the muscular system of animals, and that importantphysiological effects have been attributed to this influence, morethan perhaps we are warranted in assuming in the present state of ourknowledge. That an influence is exerted in some way, is clear from thedifference in our feelings in dry and wet weather: it has beensupposed, however, that the effects on the nervous system are notproduced by an accumulation of positive or of negative electricity, but by the combination of the two producing dynamic electricity. Whilethese points are undergoing discussion, we have an opportunity ofbringing before our readers the results of investigations bearing onthe general question. 

Most persons are aware of the fact, that a peculiar taste follows theapplication of two different metals to the tongue in a populargalvanic experiment. This taste is caused by the azotic acid formedfrom the oxygen and azote of the atmosphere. An electric discharge, too, is accompanied by a smell, which smell is due to the presence ofwhat is called ozone; and not long ago M. Schoenbein, of Basel, theinventor of guncotton, discovered ozone as a principle in the oxygenof the atmosphere; and it is considered to be the _active_ principleof that universal constituent. Later researches have brought out astriking analogy between the properties of ozone and chlorine, andhave led to conclusions as to the dangerous effect which the formermay produce, in certain cases, on the organs of respiration. Some ideaof its energy may be formed from the fact, that mice perish speedilyin air which contains one six-thousandth of ozone. It is alwayspresent in the atmosphere in a greater or lesser degree, in directrelation with the amount of atmospheric electricity, and appears toobey the same laws in its variations, finding its maximum in winterand its minimum in summer. 

Ozone, in scientific language, is described as 'a compound of oxygenanalogous to the peroxide of hydrogen, or, that it is oxygen in anallotropic state--that is, with the capability of immediate and readyaction impressed upon it. ' Besides being produced by electricaldischarges in the atmosphere, it can be obtained artificially by thepassing of what is called the electrical brush into the air from amoist wooden point, or by electrolyzed water or phosphorus. Theprocess, when the latter substance is employed, is to put a smallpiece, clean scraped, about half an inch long, into a large bottlewhich contains just so much of water as to half cover the phosphorus, and then closing the mouth slightly, to guard against combustion, toleave it standing for a time in a temperature of about 60 degrees. Ozone soon begins to be formed, as shewn by the rising of a lightcolumn of smoke from the phosphorus, which, at the same time, becomesluminous. In five or six hours, the quantity will be abundant, whenthe bottle is to be emptied of its contents, washed out, and closedfor use and experiment. 

Whichever way the ozone be produced, it is always identical in itsproperties; and these are described as numerous and remarkable. Itsodour is peculiar, resembling that of chlorine, and, when diluted, cannot be distinguished from what is called the electric smell. Whenlargely diffused in atmospheric air, it causes unpleasant sensations, makes respiration difficult, and, by acting powerfully on the mucousmembranes, produces catarrhal effects; and as such air will kill smallanimals, it shews that pure ozone must be highly injurious to theanimal economy. It is insoluble in water, is powerfully electromotive, and is most strikingly energetic in numerous chemical agencies, itsaction on nearly all metallic bodies being to carry them at once tothe state of peroxide, or to their highest point of oxidation; itchanges sulphurets into sulphates, instantaneously destroys severalgaseous compounds, and bleaches indigo, thus shewing its analogy withchlorine. 

In proceeding to the account of his experiments, M. Schoenbein shews, that gases can be produced by chemical means, which exercise anoxidizing influence of a powerful nature, especially in theirphysiological effects, even when diffused through the atmosphere invery minute quantities: also, that owing to the immense number oforganic beings on the earth, their daily death and decomposition, anenormous amount of gases is produced similar to those which can beobtained by artificial means; and besides these, a quantity of gaseousor volatile products, 'whose chemical nature, ' as the author observes, 'is as yet unknown, but of which we can easily admit that some, atleast, diffused through the air, even in very small quantities, andbreathed with it, exert a most deplorable action on the animalorganism. Hence it follows, that the decomposition of organic mattersought to be considered as one of the principal causes of thecorruption of the air by miasmatic substances. Now, a continuouscause, and acting on so vast a scale, would necessarily diffusethrough the atmosphere a considerable mass of miasmatic gases, andaccumulate them till at length it would be completely poisoned, andrendered incapable of supporting animal life, if nature had not foundthe means of destroying these noxious matters in proportion as theyare produced. '

The question then arises: What are the means employed for thisobject? M. Schoenbein believes that he has found it in the action ofozone, which is continually formed by the electricity of theatmosphere, and is known to be a most powerful agent of oxidation, causing serious modifications of organic bodies, and, consequently, oftheir physiological action. 'To assure myself, ' he pursues, 'thatozone destroys the miasma arising from the decomposition of animalmatters, I introduced into a balloon containing about 130 pints ofair, a piece of flesh weighing four ounces, taken from a human corpse, and in a very advanced state of putrefaction. I withdrew it after aminute; the air in the balloon had acquired a strong and veryrepulsive odour, shewing that it was charged with an appreciablequantity--at least for the smell--of miasm caused by the putrefaction. 

'To produce ozone, I introduced into the infected balloon a stick ofphosphorus an inch long, with water sufficient to half cover it. Atthe same time, for the sake of comparison, I placed a similar quantityof phosphorus and water in another balloon full of pure atmosphericair. After some minutes, the reaction of ozone in the latter was mostevidently manifested, while no trace of it was yet apparent in theformer, which still gave off an odour of putrefaction. This, however, disappeared completely at the end of ten or twelve minutes, andimmediately the reaction of the ozone was detected. '

The conclusion drawn from this experiment is, that the ozone destroyedthe miasm by oxidation, and could only make its presence evident afterthe complete destruction of the noxious volatile substances. Thiseffect is more strikingly shewn by another experiment. 

A balloon of similar capacity to the one above mentioned was chargedas strongly as possible with ozone, and afterwards washed with water. The same piece of flesh was suspended within it; and the opening beingcarefully closed, it was left inside for nine hours before the air ofthe balloon presented the least odour of putrefaction. The air wastested every thirty minutes by an ozonometer, and the proportion ofozone found to be gradually diminishing; but as long as the paper ofthe instrument exhibited the slightest trace of blue, there was nosmell, which only came on as the last signs of ozone disappeared. Thus, all the miasm given off by the piece of flesh during nine hourswas completely neutralised by the ozone with which the balloon hadbeen impregnated, so small in quantity as to be but the 6000th part ofa gramme. One balloon filled with ozonified air, would suffice todisinfect 540 balloons filled with miasmatic air. 'Theseconsiderations, ' says M. Schoenbein, 'shew us how little the miasma ofthe air are to be appreciated by weight, even when they exist thereinin a quantity very sensible to the smell, and how small is theproportion of ozone necessary to destroy the miasm produced by theputrefaction of organic substances, and diffused through theatmosphere. '

The presence of ozone in any vessel or in the atmosphere, may bedetected by a test-paper which has been moistened with a solutioncomposed of 1 part of pure iodide of potassium, 10 parts of starch, and 100 parts of water, boiled together for a few moments. Paper soprepared turns immediately blue when exposed to the action of ozone, the tint being lighter or darker according to the quantity. Schoenbein's ozonometer consists of 750 slips of dry bibulous paperprepared in the manner described; and with a scale of tints andinstructions, sufficient to make observations on the ozone of theatmosphere twice a day for a year. After exposure to the ozone, theyrequire to be moistened to bring out the colour. 

M. Schoenbein continues: 'We must admit that the electric dischargeswhich take place incessantly in different parts of the atmosphere, andcausing therein a formation of ozone, purify the air by this means oforganic, or, more generally, oxidizable miasma; and that they havethus the important office of maintaining it in a state of puritysuitable to animal life. By means of atmospheric electricity, and, indirectly, nature thus attains on a great scale the object that wesometimes seek to accomplish in a limited space by fumigations withchlorine. 

'Here, as in many other cases, we see nature effecting two differentobjects at one stroke. For if the oxidizable miasma are destroyed byatmospheric ozone, they, in turn, cause the latter to disappear, andwe have seen that it is itself a miasm. This is doubtless the reasonwhy ozone does not accumulate in the atmosphere in greater proportionthan the oxidizable miasma, notwithstanding the constant formation ofone and the other. 

'In all times, the idea has been held, that storms purify the air, andI do not think that this opinion is ill-founded. We know, in fact, that storms give rise to a more abundant production of ozone. It ispossible, and even probable, that sometimes, in particular localities, there may not be a just relation between the ozone and the oxidizablemiasma in the air, and that the latter cannot be completely destroyed. Hence, in accordance with the chemical nature and physiologicalinfluence of these miasma, they would exert a marked action on theanimal economy, and cause diseases among the greater number of thosewho breathe the infected air. But numerous experiments prove that, asa rule, the air contains free ozone, though in very variableproportions; from which we may conclude that no oxidizablemiasm--sulphuretted hydrogen, for example--can exist in such anatmosphere, any more than it could exist in air containing but a traceof chlorine. 

'I do not know if it be true, as has been advanced by Mr Hunt andother persons, that ozone is deficient in the atmospheric air whensome wide-spread malady, such as cholera, is raging. In any case, itwould be easy, by means of the prepared paper, to determine the truthor fallacy of this opinion. 

'There is one fact which should particularly engage the attention ofphysicians and physiologists, which is, that, of all seasons, thewinter is distinguished by the greatest proportion of ozone; whence itfollows, that during that season the air contains least of oxidizablemiasma. We can say, therefore, with respect to this class of miasma, that the air is purer in winter than in summer. 

'All my observations agree in shewing, that the proportion of ozone inthe air increases with the height; if this fact be general, as I amdisposed to believe, we must consider the upper regions of theatmosphere as purer, with regard to oxidizable miasma, than the lower. 

'The appearance of certain maladies--intermittent fever, forexample--appears to be connected with certain seasons and particulargeographical conditions. It would be worth while to ascertain, byozonometric observations, whether these physiological phenomena haveany relation whatever with the proportion of ozone contained in theair in which they occur. 

'Considering the obscurity which prevails as to the cause of thegreater part of diseases, and the great probability that many amongthem owe their origin to the presence of chemical agents dispersed inthe atmosphere, it becomes the duty of medical men and physiologists, who interest themselves in the progress of their science, to seizeearnestly all the means by which they may hope to arrive at more exactnotions upon the relations which exist between abnormal physiologicalphenomena and external circumstances. '

Such is a summary of M. Schoenbein's views as communicated to theMedical Society of Basel; and we the more readily accord them thepublicity of our columns, as, apart from the intrinsic value of thesubject, it is one which has for some time excited the interest ofscientific inquirers in this country. During the late visitation ofcholera, reports were frequently spread that the atmosphere wasdeficient in ozone. 

ENGLISH SISTERS OF CHARITY. 

How much real good could yet be done in this old, full, strugglingworld of ours, where so many among us have need of help, if each inhis or her small circle could manage just not to leave undone some ofthe things that should be done. Little more is wanting to effect thisthan the will, or perhaps the mere suggestion. A high influence may ata time confer a considerable benefit; but very humble means, systematically exerted, even during a comparatively short season, willcertainly relieve a load of misery. 

In a small village towards the west of England, there dwelt, someyears ago, two maiden gentlewomen, sisters, the daughters of thedeceased rector of the parish. Their father had early in life enteredupon his duties in this retired locality, contentedly abiding therewhere fate had placed him, each passing year increasing his interestin the charge which engrossed all his energies. His moderate stipend, assisted by a small private fortune, sufficed for his quiet tastes, and for the few charities required by his flock; it also enabled himto rear a large family respectably, and to start them creditably ontheir working way. 

There was no railway near this village--even the Queen's highway wasat some distance. Fields, meadows, a shady lane, a brook, and theWelsh mountains for a background, formed the picture of beauty thatattracted the stranger. There was hardly what could be called astreet. The cottages were clustered upon the side of the wooded bankabove the stream, shrouded in gardens of apple-trees; but there wasspace near the foot of the hill for a green of rather handsome size, with a plane-tree in the middle of it, and a few small shops along oneside. Opposite the shops was the inn, the doctor's house, themarket-house, and a public reading-room; and a bylane led from thegreen up towards the church--an old, low-walled, steep-roofedbuilding, with a square, dumpy tower, in which hung a peal of bells, and where was placed a large, round, clumsy window. A clump ofhardwood trees enclosed the upper end of the church-yard, and extendedto the back of the rector's garden, quite concealing his many-gableddwelling. In a still, summer evening, the brook could be heard fromthe parlour windows of the rectory, dancing merrily along to its ownmusic; and at those less pleasant seasons when the foliage was scanty, it could be seen here and there between the boles of the trees, sparkling in the sunshine as it rippled on, while glimpses of the richplain beyond added to the harmony of the prospect. 

The society of the village and its immediate neighbourhood was of ahumble kind--neither the rich nor the great were members of it; yetthere were wisdom, and prudence, and talent, and good faith to befound in this little community, where all inclined to live asbrethren, kindly together. It was not a bad school this for the youngto grow up in. The rector's family had here been trained; and whenthey grew to rise beyond it, and then passed out upon the wider world, those of them that were again heard of in their birthplace, did nodiscredit to its name: and all passed out, all but two--our twosisters. It is said adversity must at some time reach us all: it hadbeen late in visiting them, for they had passed a happy youth in thatquiet parsonage. At last, sorrow came, and they were left alone, thetwo extremes of the chain which had bound the little householdtogether--all the intermediate links had broken; and when, upon theirfather's death, they had to quit their long-loved home, they foundthemselves verging upon old age, in circumstances that natures lessstrictly disciplined would have felt to have been at the least dreary. The younger sister was slightly deformed, and very delicate; theelder, though still an active woman, was quite beyond the middle oflife; the income of the two, just L. 30--no great elements these ofeither usefulness or happiness. Let us see, then, what was made ofthem. Some relations pressed the sisters to share their distant home, but they would not leave the village. They felt as if their work laythere. The friends they knew best were all around them; theoccupations they had been used to still remained to them; the memoryof all they had loved there clung to them, in the old haunts so doublydear to the bereaved who bear affliction patiently. So they moved onlyto a cottage a little higher up the hill, yet within view of thechurch, and of the dear old house, with its garden, sheltering wood, and pleasant rivulet; and there they lived in comfort, with enough touse and much to spare, their cruse never failing them when wanted. Itwas a real cottage, which a labourer had left: there was no ornamentabout it till they added some. Rude and unfashioned did thislow-thatched cabin pass to them; it was their own hands, with verylittle help from their light purse, which made of a mere hovel theprettiest of rural dwellings--her own hands, indeed; for Sister Annealone was the working-bee. Sister Catherine helped by hints andsmiles, and by her nimble needle; but for out-of-doors labour she hadnot strength. Sister Anne nailed up the trellised porch, over whichgay creepers were in time to grow. Sister Anne laid out the beds offlowers, protected by a low paling from the sheep which pastured onthe downs. She planned the tidy bit of garden on one side, and thelittle yard behind, where pig and poultry throve; but Sister Catherinewatched the bee-hives near the hawthorn hedge, and plied her busyfingers by the hour to decorate the inside of their pretty cottage. They almost acted man and wife in the division of their employments, and with the best effect. 

It would have astonished any one unaccustomed to the few wants ofsimple tastes, and to the many small gains from various triflingproduce which careful industry alone can accumulate, to see the plentyconsequent on skill, order, and neatness. The happiness was a joyapart, only to be felt by the sort of poetic mind of the trulybenevolent, for it depended not on luxury, or even comfort, or anypurely selfish feeling. It sprang from warm hearts directed by clearheads, invigorated by religious feelings, and nourished by countrytastes, softened and elevated by the trials of life, till devotion totheir kind became the one intention of their being; for it is asSisters of Charity we introduce our heroines to our readers, one of awide class in our reformed church, who, unshackled by vows, under nobondage of conventual forms, with small means, and by their ownexertions and self-sacrifices, do more good in their generation thancan be easily reckoned--treading in the footsteps of their Master, bearing healing as they move. Every frugal meal was shared with someone less favoured. No fragments were too small for use in SisterAnne's most skilful cookery; not a crumb, nor a dreg, nor a drop waswasted. Many a cup of comfort fed the sick or the weary, made fromwhat, in richer households, unthrifty servants would have thrown away. There were always roots to spare from the small garden, herbs formedicines, eggs for sale, salves, and lotions, and conserves of fruitor honey. All the poor infants in the parish were neatly clothed inbaby-linen made out of old garments. There were always bundles ofpatches to give away, so useful to poor mothers; strips of rag forhurts; old flannel, and often new; a little collection of rubbish nowand then for the bagman, though very rarely, the breakage being smallwhere there were so few hands used, and they so careful. 

They gave their time, too; for they were the nurses of all the sick, the comforters of all the sorrowful, the advisers of all indifficulty--without parade. They were applied to as of course--itseemed natural. And they were sociable: they had their littletea-parties with their acquaintance; they made their little presentsat Christmas-time; they sweetened life throughout their limitedsphere; and all so quietly, that no one guessed the amount of theirinfluence till it ceased. They preached 'the word' practically, producing all the charity it taught, inculcating the 'peace on earth, good-will towards men' which disposes even rude natures to the gentlerfeelings, and soothes the chafed murmurer by the tender influence ofthat love which is so kind. They were unwearied in their walk ofmercy, though they met with disappointment even among the simplenatures reared in this secluded spot. They bore it meekly; and whencross or trial came to those around, then could our good sisters carrycomfort to afflicted friends, never pleading quite in vain for theexercise of that patience which lightens suffering. They were asmothers to the young, as daughters to the old, of all degree; for theydid not ostentatiously devote themselves to the poor and ignorantalone--the so-called poor: the poor in spirit, of whatever rank, wereas much their care as were the poor in purse; their charge was all whoneeded help--a help they gave simply, lovingly, not as meddlers, butas sisters bound to a larger family by the breaking of the ties whichhad united them to their own peculiar household. 

There was no scenic effect visible along the humble walk of their purebenevolence, no harsh outlines to mark the course they went, or shewthem to the world as devoted to particular excellence all throughout alifetime of painful mortifications. Very noiseless was their quietway. In a spirit of thankfulness they accepted their lot, turning itsvery bitterness into joy, by gratefully receiving the many pleasuresstill vouchsafed them; for it is a happy world, in spite of all itstrials, to those who look aright for happiness. Our sisters found itand bestowed it. How many blessed their name! How many have had reasonto love the memory of these two unobtrusive women, who, without name, or station, or show, or peculiarity, or distinction of any kind, werethe types of a class the circle of which even this humble memorial, byits truth and suggestiveness, may aid in extending--of the true, simple, earnest, brave, holy Sisters of Charity of our country!

BRIBERY AND CORRUPTION. 

I am not sure about bribery and corruption. It may be a bad thing, butmany seem to think otherwise. Much may be said on both sides of thequestion. Oh! don't tell me of a worm selling his birthright for amess of pottage: I never read of such worms in Buffon, or even inPliny. But if they do exist in the human form, the baseness consistsin the sale, not in the _quid pro quo_. A mess of pottage in itself isa very good thing--I should say, a very respectable thing; and noexchange can take away from it that character. Still, if what we givefor it is an heirloom, coming from our ancestors and belonging to ourposterity, the transaction is shabby, and not only shabby, butdishonest. If that is proved, I don't defend the worm. Trample on himby all means--jump on him. But beware of insulting the mess ofpottage, which is as respectable as when newly out of the pot. Fancythe sale to have been effected by means of some other equivalent: andthat, by the way, is just what puzzles me. There are numerous otherequivalents, not a whit more respectable in themselves--many far lessso--which not only escape all objurgation, but serve to lift theidentical transaction out of the category of basenesses. This confusesa brain like mine, even to the length of doubting whether there is anyharm in the thing at all. Let us turn the question over patiently. Iconfess I am slow; but 'slow and sure, ' you know. 

Bribery and corruption is a universal element in civilised society;but let us talk in the meantime of political bribery and corruption. It is the theory of the law--if the law really has a theory--that inthe matter of a parliamentary canvass, every man, as a celebratedIrish minister expressed it, should stand upon his own bottom. By thispoetical figure, Lord Londonderry meant that the man should dependupon himself, upon his own merits and character, without havingrecourse to any extrinsic means of working upon the judgment ofothers. It is likewise the theory of the law, that a man who _suffers_his judgment to be indirectly biassed is as bad as the other--andworse: that he is, in fact, a Worm, unfit to possess his birthright, of which he should be forthwith deprived. Well, this being premised:here is the Honourable Tom Snuffleton, who wants to represent ourborough, but having neither merit nor character of any convertiblekind, offers money and gin instead. The substitute is accepted; andHonourable Tom, slapping his waistcoat several times, congratulatesthe free and independent electors on having that day set a gloriousexample to the world, by thus exercising their birthright andupholding their palladium; and the affair is finished amid cheers andhiccups. 

When I say, however, that the substitute is accepted, I do not meanthat it is accepted by, or can be offered to the whole constituency. That would be a libel. There are many of the electors who have a soulabove sovereigns, and who, if they could accomplish it, would neverdrink anything less than claret. These persons are ambitious of beingnoticed by the family of Honourable Tom. They are not hungry, but theytake delight in a dinner in that quarter. They also feel intenselygratified by having their wives and daughters bowed to from the familycarriage. A thousand considerations like these blind them to theabsence of merit and character on the part of the candidate, and laythem open to that extrinsic influence which, according to the meaningof the law, is bribery and corruption. As for the man who takes hisbribe, for the sake of convenience, in the direct, portable, andexchangeable form of a sovereign, he lays it out in any pleasure ordistinction he, on his part, has a fancy for. If he is a dissoluteperson, he spends it in the public-house; if he is a proper-behavedhusband, he gives his wife a new gown; if he is a respectable, seriousindividual, he devotes it to the conversion of the Wid-a-wak tribe inCentral Africa, and gloats upon the name of John Higgins in thesubscription-list. In whichever way, however, he may seek to gratifyhimself, he is neither better nor worse, so far as I can see, than thevoter of more elegant aspirations: they have both been bribed; theyare both corrupt; they have both sold their birthright. 

This is a homely way of viewing the question, but it suffices. If weinquire into the motives of a hundred electors, we shall not find tenof them free from some alloy of self-interest, direct or indirect. Incases where the candidates are all equally good, equally bad, orequally indifferent, there may be no practical harm in this; but it isnot a political but a moral question that is before us. The questionis as to the _bribe_. If we are to be excused because of the nature ofthe solatium we accept, then should a thief successfully plead that itwas not money he stole, but a masterpiece of Raphael. What I doubt is, whether they who have not been solely influenced by patriotic motives, have any right to cast stones at the free and independent elector whohas sold his vote for a sovereign. 

If the common saying be true, that 'every man has his price, ' then arewe all open to bribery and corruption; and the only difficulty lies inascertaining the weak side of our nature. The distinction in this caseis not between vice and virtue, but between the various positions inwhich we are placed. Money will do with some men; others, who would beshocked at the idea of taking money, will accept of something it hasbought; others, again, who would spurn at both these, will have noobjection to a snug little place for themselves or their dependents. The English, as a practical, straightforward people, take money--fiveto ten pounds being considered a fair thing for a vote, and no shameabout it. The Scotch, as more calculating, like a _situation_;anything to put sons into, will do--a cadetship in India, atide-waitership, a place in the Post-office, or a commission in thearmy. From a small Scotch country town, which we have in our eye, asmany as fourteen lads in one year received appointments in the Excise;everybody knew what for: an election was in expectation. No money, however, being passed from hand to hand, the fathers of these saidlads would look with horror on such cases of bribery as have givenrenown and infamy to Sudbury and St Alban's. 

 All men think all men _sinners_ but themselves. 

Happy this consciousness of innocence! How fortunate that we should besuch a virtuous and discreet people! And thus does one's very notionsof what is right become a marketable article. Where neither money norplace is wanted, a gracious look and an invitation to dinner may havequite a telling effect. In fact, the more refined men have become, through the action of circumstances, such as education and position, the more abstracted and attenuated is the equivalent they demand fortheir virtue; till we reach the highest grade of all, whose noblenatures, as they are called, can be seduced only by affection andgratitude. Now observe: in all these cases the _thing_ is the same, whether it be crime we have been tempted to commit, or mereillegality; the only distinction lies in the value of the _quid proquo_. But is there a distinction even in that? I doubt the fact. Idon't say there is none, but I doubt it. Value is entirely arbitrary. One man, at the lower end of the scale, sins for the sake of a pound;and another, at the higher end, does the same thing for the sake of akindness. The two men place the same value on their severalequivalents, and each finds his own irresistible. Are they not bothequally guilty?

That a refined man is better than a coarse one, I admit. He ispleasanter, and not only so, but safer. We know his virtue to besecure from a thousand temptations before which meaner natures fall;and to a large extent, therefore, we feel him to be worthy of ourtrust. He will not betray us for a pound, or a dinner, or a place, ora coaxing word, or a condescending bow: but we must not go too farwith him for all that. He has his price as surely as the meanest ofhis fellows; and let him only come in the way of a temptation hevalues as highly as the other values his miserable pound, and down hegoes! Refined natures, therefore, are only comparatively trustworthy;and, however estimable or admirable they may be under othercircumstances, when they do fail they are as guilty as the rest. It isa bad thing altogether, bribery and corruption is; and I don't objectto your putting it down when it takes that material form of money youcan so readily get hold of. But what I hate is the cant that is cantedabout it by those who have not even the virtue to take theirequivalent on the sly. For it is a remarkable thing, that when thisdoes not come in a material shape, such as you can count or handle, itis looked upon by the bribee as no bribe at all! Nay, in some cases hewill glory in his crime, as if it were a virtue; and in all cases hewill turn round upon his fellow-criminal--him of the vulgar sort--callhim a worm, and throw that mess of pottage at him! This refinedevil-doer may be as energetic as he pleases in his actions, but itwould be well if he were a little more quiet in his words. If he lookswithin, he will find that the distinction on which he prides himselfis wholly superficial; and that such language is very unbecoming thelips of one who might more truly, as well as more politely, say tocorruption, thou art my father, and to the worm, thou art my motherand my sister. 

The main cause of such anomalies I take to be, that there is among usa general want of earnestness. We do not believe in ourselves, or ourduties, or our destinies. Our life has no theory, and we care only foroutward forms and symbols. Our taste is shocked by the grossness ofvice, but we have no quarrel with the thing itself; and if the peoplearound us will only preserve a polished, or at least inoffensiveexterior, that is all we demand. Why should we look below the surfacein their case, when we do no such thing in our own? We feel amiable, genteel, and refined; we detest the appearance of low impropriety, andwould take a good deal of trouble to put it down; we look very kindlyon the world in general, if the low people who are in it would onlybecome as decorous as ourselves. In the old republics, the case wasdifferent. There men had a theory, even if a bad one, and they stuckto it through good report and through bad report. The theory was thespirit of the community, and its members sacrificed to it their wholeindividuality. No wonder that such little political unities heldtogether as if their component parts had been welded, and that theycontinued to do so till they came into collision, and, from theirhardness and toughness, rubbed one another out. 

Put down bribery and corruption: that is fair. And more especially putdown open, shameless, and brutal bribery and corruption, for its verycoarseness is, in itself, an additional crime. But no reform isefficacious that does not come from within; and when refined men wagewar against vulgar vices, let them look sharply to their own. I do notsay, that by taking thought they will be able to do entirely away withthe seductive influence of a bow, or a dinner, or a kind action; andthat, in spite of these, they will do their duty with the sternresolve of an ancient Spartan. But they will be less likely to yieldto temptation, and the price of their virtue will at least mounthigher and higher, which is as much as we can expect of human nature. The grand benefit, however, they will derive from the inquisition, isthe lesson of tolerance it will teach. They will refrain, for shame'ssake, from casting stones and calling names. They will see that theonly part of the offence _they_ can notice is vulgarity and ignorance, and they will quietly try to refine the one and enlighten the other. 

THE EGYPTIAN MUSEUM, LIVERPOOL. 

In a cross street named Colquitt Street, near a fashionable promenadeof Liverpool, will be found the rich, valuable, and interesting museumwhich we are about briefly to describe. It is the property of MrJoseph Mayer, F. S. A. , a townsman of Liverpool, esteemed as much forhis private worth as for his refined classical taste. This gentlemanhas been long known as a collector; and by the purchase of an entiregallery of antiquities, formed by one who travelled long in Egypt andNubia, and visited the remains of ancient Carthage, he becamepossessed of a museum so extensive that his private residence couldnot contain them, and so rare, that the public desired to know moreabout them. With the view, therefore, of keeping them together, andgratifying the many who longed to acquaint themselves with theseinteresting relics of an interesting race, this house in ColquittStreet has been appropriated. For the purpose of meeting the currentexpenses of the exhibition, and enabling the proprietor to add to itscontents, a very trifling charge is made for admission, and a book iskept for the autographs of the visitors. 

The first room entered displays a large collection of Egyptian_stelæ_ and other monuments, while the outer cases and sarcophagi ofseveral mummies are placed in another apartment. The word _stela_means merely a memorial pillar or tombstone; and in this room thereflective mind will find much food for meditation. We have here thefirst elements of all religion brought visibly before us in thecarvings--the recognition of a deity, and the belief in immortality. More than one of these stelæ has upon it the royal cartouch; one ofthem has no fewer than four of these elliptical rings withinscriptions, and two more from which the hieroglyphics have beenerased. This tells a tale, for in the age commemorated, it was a markof disgrace to have the name obliterated. Another stela contains thejackal, or genius of the departed, with propitiatory offerings fromhis friends. The curious will learn with interest, that another ofthese monuments dates back to the time of Joseph. It has twiceengraved upon it the name Osortosen--perhaps the Pharaoh 'who gave himto wife Asenath, the daughter of Potiphorah, priest of On, ' and raisedthe obelisk at Heliopolis, towns thought to be the same. Near to thisis another stela of great beauty, engraved in low relief andcavo-relievo, coloured. It belongs to Manetho's sixth dynasty, and is consequently very ancient. One still more so is inthe same collection: it is of the fourth dynasty of thathistorian--consequently, of the time when the Pyramids were built. Itis beautifully executed in intaglio and relievo, with the surfacepolished. These stelæ, of which the collection is very rich, arecomposed of various rocks--such as granite, syenite, limestone, thetravertino of the Italians, and sandstone. 

While the tombs of Egypt have furnished these monuments, Karnac isrepresented by a portion of its great obelisk, and Rome has supplied acinerary urn with cremated bones, several sepulchral tablets, and analtar. 

In another room on the same floor, we find an extensive collection ofpottery from the tombs of ancient Etruria, and other parts of Italy;Roman pottery found in Britain; Samian ware, and articles of thatkind, from Pompeii, Carthage, and South America. The central case isoverflowing with riches, containing as it does nearly six hundredEtruscan vases in terra cotta. It is a subject of doubt among thelearned, whether these painted vessels, so called, are not in realityGrecian. Bossi, in his great work on Italy, claims the firstmanufacture for the Tuscans; but there is a strong argument in favourof their Grecian origin in the negative evidence obtained from RomanItaly, where they are not found, and the positive evidence from theGrecian subjects depicted on the pottery; besides which, the tombs ofthe Greek islands of the Archipelago contain them. Their not being metwith in the Asiatic colonies of the Greeks may go merely to shew, thatalthough the objects might be Grecian, the trade was Etruscan. It iswell known, too, that at Athens the art of making pottery had arrivedat great perfection. That the Tuscans used these as funereal vesselsat a remote period, is fully established; but the custom of depositingthem in sepulchres is not supposed to have originated with thatpeople, but to have been brought by colonists from Greece Proper. 

In this apartment, there are sepulchral lamps in the same material asthe Etruscan vases, and idols not a few. Besides these, there arenumerous Roman fibulæ (a sort of brooch) and bracelets, found atTreves, and others dug up in England. There are likewise many Romanantiquities, which have been recently met with at Hoy Lake, nearLiverpool. But we must not attempt to enter into details; let us mountto the floor above, and notice the contents of the apartments there. 

The first room on the second storey is the Mummy Room; and there rest, side by side, royal personages and humble individuals, male andfemale, who, about four thousand years ago, breathed the air of Egypt. Except by their cerements, and the inscriptions on the cases, whocould tell which had been the greater?

The plan adopted for the display of these human mummies--for theMuseum contains the preserved remains of the ibis and hawk, the cat, and even the dog, a rare subject for the embalmer, besides the bodiesof other inferior animals--is to remove the outer case and covering, then to place the inner case upon the floor; above it, resting onsupports, the body; and above that again, the lid, enclosing allwithin plates of glass, so that the spectator may go round the mummy, examining it in all directions, and likewise the case, within andwithout, on which the hieroglyphics are inscribed. Before we describethe mummies so laid out, let us explain briefly the process ofembalming. Herodotus is a great authority on this matter, and wecannot do better than follow him. 

In the first place, the embalmer was a medical practitioner, andlegally pursued his craft. The deceased was taken to his room, andthere the process of preservation was conducted; not, however, tillthe agreement had been made between the relatives and the embalmer asto the style and cost; for there were three methods of embalming, suitable to different ranks. This having been determined, the operatorbegan, the relatives having previously retired. In the most expensivekind of embalming, the brain was extracted without disfiguring thehead, and the intestines were removed by an incision in the side:these were separated and preserved. The body was now filled withspices--myrrh cassia, and other perfumes, frankincense excepted; andthe opening was firmly closed. It was now covered with natron forseventy days; and at the expiration of that time, it was washed andswathed in linen cloth, dipped in gums and resinous substances, whenit was delivered to the relatives, and by them placed in the mummycase and sarcophagus. It was finally placed perpendicularly in theapartment set apart for the dead; so that the Egyptian could view hisancestors as figured on their coffins; and with the thought that notonly were their portraits there, but their bodies also--for theEgyptian was a firm believer in immortality, and piously preserved thebody in a fitter state, as he thought, for reunion with the soul, thanif allowed to perish by decay. 

According to the second mode of embalming, no incisions were made uponthe body, but absorbing injections were employed. The natron was usedas before; and after the customary days were passed, the injectedfluid was withdrawn, and with it came the entrails. The body was nowenfolded in the cloth, and returned to the friends. This process costtwenty minæ, the other was a talent. In the third style, that adoptedby the poor, the natron application was almost the only one used; thebody lay for seventy days in this alkaline solution, and was thenaccounted fit for preservation. Sometimes the body, enveloped in thecloth, was covered with bitumen. 

The most interesting mummy in this collection is that of a royalpersonage, Amenophis I. , the most ancient of the Pharaohs whose namehas yet been found. The case is richly decorated, and the name appearsin three different places--that in the interior being in very largecharacters, in a royal cartouch. The spectator seems to hang over thismummy as if spell-bound. Can this in reality be one of the Pharaohs?Such is the question; and the inscription, thrice repeated--'AmenophisI. '--is the answer! This monarch reigned in Egypt about half a centuryafter the exodus of the Israelites, and 3400 years ago, according tothe chronology of Dr Hales; but others give a remoter period--even inthe days of Joseph. 

Another mummy has the face covered with gold, and the body isinscribed with the gods of the Amenti, on those regions over whichthey were the genii. Thus _Amset_, with a human head, presided overthe stomach and large intestines, and was the judge of Hades; _Hape_, with the head of a baboon, presided over the small intestines;_Soumautf_, the third genius, with a jackal's head, was placed overthe region of the thorax, presiding over the heart and lungs; and thelast, _Kebhsnauf_, with the head of a hawk, presided over thegall-bladder and liver. Besides these, there are other mummiesexhibiting the style of swathing peculiarly Egyptian, incontradistinction to the Græco-Egyptian, which differs from the formerin having the limbs separately bandaged, instead of being placedtogether and enveloped in one form. There are also fragments of thehuman body mummied, one of which contains between the arm and shouldera papyrus-roll. And while we are now among the mummies, we must notforget the vases called canopuses, in which the entrails and otherinternal organs were deposited; each bearing upon it the emblem of thegenius presiding over the separately embalmed viscera. On each ofthese canopuses, four of which compose a set, an inscription may beseen. Thus: _Amset_--'I am thy son, a god, loving thee; I have come tobe beside thee, causing to germinate thy head, to fabricate thee withthe words of Phtah, like the brilliancy of the sun for ever. '_Hape_--'I have come to manifest myself beside thee, to raise thy headand arms, to reduce thy enemies, to give thee all germination forever. ' _Soumautf_--'I am thy son, a god, loving thee; I have come tosupport my father. ' _Kebhsnauf_--'I have come to be beside thee, tosubdue thy form, to submit thy limbs for thee, to lead thy heart tothee, to give it to thee in the tribunal of thy race, to germinate thyhouse with all the other living. '

In this apartment there are many statues, some in wood, some in stone. In one of wood there is a recess behind intended for a papyrusmanuscript. There are also specimens of Egyptian Mosaic pavement, anda monumental tablet, interesting from its having a Greek inscription, while its style and figure are Egyptian--proving the continuance ofthe ancient manner down to the Ptolemaic dynasty. 

The adjoining room contains infinitely more than we can enumerate, and, like the others, many articles not Egyptian, yet deeplyinteresting in themselves. The centre cases will demand our firstattention; and here we have idolets and amulets innumerable; coins ofthe Ptolemies, Cleopatra, and others; and jewellery of alldescriptions, from the golden diadem and the royal signet down to thepottery rings and glass beads worn by the poor. As might be expectedin an Egyptian collection, the _scarabæus_, or sacred beetle, frequently meets the eye. Here are scarabæi in gold, cornelion, chalcedony, heliotrope, torquoise, lapis-lazuli, porphyry, terracotta, and other materials; many of them having royal names andinscriptions engraved. 

Two objects claim our first attention, on account not only of theirvalue, but their associations. They are placed together in aglass-case, marked No. 3. One of them is perhaps the most ancient ringin existence, and is a magnificent signet of pure solid gold. It bearsin a cartouch the royal name of Amenophis I. , and has an inscriptionon either side. The signet is hung upon a swivel, and hashieroglyphics on what may be called the reverse. It is a large, heavyring, weighing 1 ounce, 6 pennyweights, 12 grains, was worn on thethumb, and taken from the mummy at Memphis. It was purchased by MrSams at the sale of Mr Salt's collection in the year 1835, for upwardsof L. 50, and is highly prized by the present proprietor. Some doubtstill rests upon Egyptian chronology. By certain antiquaries, thisring is supposed to have been worn by the Pharaoh who ruled over theland while Joseph was prime-minister; but others, as has beenmentioned, place the reign of Amenophis I. After the departure of theIsraelites. 

The other is a diadem of pure gold, about seven inches in diameter, taken from the head of a mummy. In the centre, a pyramid rises with adouble cartouch on one side and a single one on the other. Towardsthis twelve scarabæi are approaching, six on either side, emblematicof the increase and decrease of the days in the twelve months; andbetween these is a procession of boats, in which are deities andfigures. In the inner side of this diadem the signs of the zodiac arerepresented. 

In close proximity to these remarkable objects is another of no lessinterest--namely, a pair of earrings of gold, weighing each _half ashekel_--'And it came to pass, as the camels had done drinking, thatthe man took _a golden earring of half a shekel weight_, and twobracelets for her hands of ten shekels weight of gold; and said, Whosedaughter art thou?' Such was the present to Rebekah; and here, beforeus, are ornaments similar probably in shape (zone-like), and exactlysimilar in weight!

Among the jewellery in this collection we find several valuablenecklaces in gold, coral, and precious stones. Besides the Egyptian, there are some of Etruscan origin, taken from the tombs of thisancient people. We cannot leave this subject without noticing thebeauty and perfection of the filigree-work, executed about 2400 yearsago, and equal to modern workmanship. Some exquisite specimens fromPompeii are preserved here. 

Turning now to the walls of this apartment, we find glass-cases filledwith vases in terra cotta and eastern alabaster. On some of these areroyal names, gilt and coloured; that of Cheops, the builder of thegreat Pyramid, occurs on one. Another of these vessels, or the neckpart of one, is covered with cement, and sealed with three cartouches, besides having four others painted on it. This, it is thought, mayhave contained the precious Theban wine, sealed with the royal signet. There are many other things taken from the tombs which our spaceforbids us to dwell upon; such as idols and figures, papyri andphylacteries, paint-pots and colours, workman's tools, stone andwooden pillows or head-rests, and sandals; a patera with pomegranates, another with barley, the seven-eared wheat of Scripture, bread andgrapes, besides other fruits and dainties which were supplied to thedead when deposited in the Theban tombs. On a tablet here we find thename of that Amenophis or Phamenoph, who is celebrated as the Memnonof the Greeks. We also find bricks as made by the Israelites, andstamped probably in accordance with the regulations of the revenuedepartment of old Egypt. There are preserved in this and the adjoiningapartments some beautiful ancient manuscripts, and an exceedinglyvaluable collection of books on antiquities, to which the visitor hasaccess. 

We now ascend to the upper rooms, where in one is a collection ofarmour, and in the other, the 'Majolica' Room, specimens of pottery, as revived in Europe in the fifteenth century by Luca Della Rubbia, who was born in 1388. He discovered the art of glazing earthenware. Inthe former of these rooms, all sorts of weapons and defensiveapparatus are met with--modern, mediæval, and antique; some are highlyfinished, others very rude. In the Majolica Room, there is much matterfor study, and those will fail to appreciate the value of thecollection who have not learned something of the history of the ware. Here is exhibited a Madonna and Child, of about the year 1420, byRubbia himself. It was given to Mr Mayer by the Grand Duke of Tuscany, when the medal of Roscoe was struck and presented. There are fiveplates, made after the patterns of the Moors, about the middle of thatcentury, at Pessaro, near the Po; and four with portraits, marked'Majolica Amatorii. ' We find several other specimens, shewing the mostcurious anachronisms and blunders in design. The 'Temptation, ' forexample, is represented as a plate, with the drawing of a town and aDutch church. 'Jacob's Dream, ' 'Joseph and his Brethren, ' 'Alexanderand Darius, ' 'Actæon and Diana, ' and such scenes, seem to have beenfavourites. The specimens of 'Mezza Majolica, ' with raised centres, scroll-work borders, and embossed figures, are very curious. There aretwo dishes, each eighteen inches in diameter, of Raffaelle ware, onone of which is 'Christ healing the Sick, ' and on the other, 'Christdriving out the Money-changers. ' Another, of Calabrian ware, is verycurious: it is of brown clay, glazed, with four handles, and insideare the figures of two priests officiating at an altar; behind, arefemale figures overlooking, but concealed by latticed-work. There isone object here of local interest, and with it we bring thisdescription to a close. It is an earthenware map of Crosby, to thenorth of Liverpool, made in 1716, at pottery works in Shaws-brow. 

UNCLE TOM'S CABIN. 

STORY OF UNCLE TOM. 

A former paper on Mrs Stowe's remarkable book, presented a littleepisode, the heroine of which was Eliza, a female slave on the estateof a Mr Shelby in Kentucky. We now turn to the story of Tom himself, whose transfers from hand to hand afford the authoress an opportunityof describing the private life and feelings of slave-owners, and theunwholesome and dangerous condition of society in the south. 

Tom, we have hinted, was jet black in colour, trustworthy and valuedby his master, who was compelled by necessity to part with him toHaley, a slave-trader. The separation of this honest fellow from hiswife Chloe, and his children, was a sad affair; but as Tom was of ahopeful temperament, and under strong religious impressions, he didnot repine at the fate he was about to encounter, dreaded as thatusually is by persons in his situation. 'In order to appreciate thesufferings of the negroes sold south, it must be remembered that allthe instinctive affections of that race are peculiarly strong. Theirlocal attachments are very abiding. They are not naturally daring andenterprising, but home-loving and affectionate. Add to this all theterrors with which ignorance invests the unknown, and add to this, again, that selling to the south is set before the negro fromchildhood as the last severity of punishment. The threat thatterrifies more than whipping or torture of any kind, is the threat ofbeing sent down river. 

'A missionary among the fugitives in Canada told us, that many of thefugitives confessed themselves to have escaped from comparatively kindmasters, and that they were induced to brave the perils of escape, inalmost every case, by the desperate horror with which they regardedbeing sold south--a doom which was hanging either over themselves ortheir husbands, their wives or children. This nerves the African, naturally patient, timid, and unenterprising, with heroic courage, andleads him to suffer hunger, cold, pain, the perils of the wilderness, and the more dread penalties of recapture. '

After a simple repast in his rude cabin, Tom prepared to start. Chloeshut and corded his trunk, and getting up, looked gruffly on thetrader who was robbing her of her husband; her tears seemingly turnedto sparks of fire. Tom rose up meekly to follow his new master, andraised the box on his shoulder. His wife took the baby in her arms, togo with him as far as the wagon, and the children, crying, trailed onbehind. 'A crowd of all the old and young hands in the place stoodgathered around it, to bid farewell to their old associate. Tom hadbeen looked up to, both as a head-servant and a Christian teacher, byall the place, and there was much honest sympathy and grief about him, particularly among the women. Haley whipped up the horse, and with asteady, mournful look, fixed to the last on the old place, Tom waswhirled away. Mr Shelby at this time was not at home. He had sold Tomunder the spur of a driving necessity, to get out of the power of aman he dreaded; and his first feeling, after the consummation of thebargain, had been that of relief. But his wife's expostulations awokehis half-slumbering regrets; and Tom's disinterestedness increased theunpleasantness of his feelings. It was in vain that he said tohimself, that he had a _right_ to do it, that everybody did it, andthat some did it without even the excuse of necessity: he could notsatisfy his own feelings; and that he might not witness the unpleasantscenes of the consummation, he had gone on a short business tour upthe country, hoping that all would be over before he returned. '

Haley, with his property, reaches the Mississippi; and on thatmagnificent river, a steam-boat, piled high with bales of cotton frommany a plantation, receives the party. 'Partly from confidenceinspired by Mr Shelby's representations, and partly from theremarkably inoffensive and quiet character of the man, Tom hadinsensibly won his way far into the confidence even of such a man asHaley. At first, he had watched him narrowly through the day, andnever allowed him to sleep at night unfettered; but the uncomplainingpatience and apparent contentment of Tom's manner, led him graduallyto discontinue these restraints; and for some time Tom had enjoyed asort of parole of honour, being permitted to come and go freely wherehe pleased on the boat. Ever quiet and obliging, and more than readyto lend a hand in every emergency which occurred among the workmenbelow, he had won the good opinion of all the hands, and spent manyhours in helping them with as hearty a good-will as ever he worked ona Kentucky farm. When there seemed to be nothing for him to do, hewould climb to a nook among the cotton-bales of the upper deck, andbusy himself in studying over his Bible--and it is there we see himnow. For a hundred or more miles above New Orleans, the river ishigher than the surrounding country, and rolls its tremendous volumebetween massive levees twenty feet in height. The traveller from thedeck of the steamer, as from some floating castle-top, overlooks thewhole country for miles and miles around. Tom, therefore, had spreadout full before him, in plantation after plantation, a map of the lifeto which he was approaching. He saw the distant slaves at their toil;he saw afar their villages of huts gleaming out in long rows on many aplantation, distant from the stately mansions and pleasure-grounds ofthe master; and as the moving picture passed on, his poor foolishheart would be turning backward to the Kentucky farm, with its oldshadowy beeches, to the master's house, with its wide, cool halls, andnear by the little cabin, overgrown with the multiflora and bignonia. There he seemed to see familiar faces of comrades who had grown upwith him from infancy: he saw his busy wife, bustling in herpreparations for his evening meals; he heard the merry laugh of hisboys at their play, and the chirrup of the baby at his knee, and then, with a start, all faded; and he saw again the cane-brakes andcypresses of gliding plantations, and heard again the creaking andgroaning of the machinery, all telling him too plainly that all thatphase of life had gone by for ever. '

An unlooked-for incident raises up a friend. 'Among the passengers onthe boat was a young gentleman of fortune and family, resident in NewOrleans, who bore the name of St Clare. He had with him a daughterbetween five and six years of age, together with a lady who seemed toclaim relationship to both, and to have the little one especiallyunder her charge. Tom had often caught glimpses of this little girl, for she was one of those busy, tripping creatures, that can be nomore contained in one place than a sunbeam or a summer breeze; norwas she one that, once seen, could be easily forgotten. Her form wasthe perfection of childish beauty, without its usual chubbiness andsquareness of outline. '

This angelic little creature was attracted by Tom's appearance; andspeaking kindly to him, expressed a hope of serving him, by inducingher papa to become his purchaser. Tom had just thanked the little ladyfor her intentions, when the boat stopped at a landing-place. At itsmoving on again, Eva, who leaned imprudently on the railings, felloverboard. Tom was fortunately standing under her as she fell. 'He sawher strike the water and sink, and was after her in a moment. Abroad-chested, strong-armed fellow, it was nothing for him to keepafloat in the water till, in a moment or two, the child rose to thesurface, and he caught her in his arms, and, swimming with her to theboat-side, handed her up, all dripping, to the grasp of hundreds ofhands, which, as if they had all belonged to one man, were stretchedeagerly out to receive her. A few moments more, and her father boreher, dripping and senseless, to the ladies' cabin, where, as is usualin cases of the kind, there ensued a very well-meaning andkind-hearted strife among the female occupants generally as to whoshould do the most things to make a disturbance, and to hinder herrecovery in every way possible. '

Next day, as the vessel approached New Orleans, Tom sat on the lowerdeck, with his arms folded, anxiously from time to time turning hiseyes towards a group on the other side of the boat. 'There stood thefair Evangeline, a little paler than the day before, but otherwiseexhibiting no traces of the accident which had befallen her. Agraceful, elegantly-formed young man stood by her, carelessly leaningone elbow on a bale of cotton, while a large pocket-book lay openbefore him. It was quite evident, at a glance, that the gentleman wasEva's father. There was the same noble cast of head, the same largeblue eyes, the same golden-brown hair; yet the expression was whollydifferent. In the large, clear blue eyes, though in form and colourexactly similar, there was wanting that misty, dreamy depth ofexpression; all was clear, bold, and bright, but with a light whollyof this world: the beautifully cut mouth had a proud and somewhatsarcastic expression, while an air of free-and-easy superiority satnot ungracefully in every turn and movement of his fine form. He waslistening with a good-humoured, negligent air, half comic, halfcontemptuous, to Haley, who was very volubly expatiating on thequality of the article for which they were bargaining. 

"All the moral and Christian virtues bound in black morocco, complete!" he said, when Haley had finished. "Well, now, my goodfellow, what's the damage, as they say in Kentucky; in short, what'sto be paid out for this business? How much are you going to cheat me, now? Out with it!"

"Wal, " said Haley, "if I should say thirteen hundred dollars for thatar fellow, I shouldn't but just save myself--I shouldn't, now, raily. "

"Papa, do buy him! it's no matter what you pay, " whispered Eva softly, getting up on a package, and putting her arm around her father's neck. "You have money enough, I know. I want him. "'

Tom was purchased, and paid for. 'Come, Eva, ' said St Clare, as hestepped across the boat to his newly-acquired property. '"Look up, Tom, and see how you like your new master. " Tom looked up. It was notin nature to look into that gay, young, handsome face without afeeling of pleasure; and Tom felt the tears start in his eyes as hesaid, heartily: "God bless you, mas'r!"

"Well, I hope he will. What's your name? Tom? Quite as likely to do itfor your asking as mine, from all accounts. Can you drive horses, Tom?"

"I've been allays used to horses, " said Tom. 

"Well, I think I shall put you in coachy, on condition that you won'tbe drunk more than once a week, unless in cases of emergency, Tom. "

'Tom looked surprised, and rather hurt, and said: "I never drink, mas'r. "

"I've heard that story before, Tom; but then we'll see. It will be aspecial accommodation to all concerned if you don't. Never mind, myboy, " he added good-humouredly, seeing Tom still looked grave; "Idon't doubt you mean to do well. "

"I sartin do, mas'r, " said Tom. 

"And you shall have good times, " said Eva. "Papa is very good toeverybody, only he always will laugh at them. "

"Papa is much obliged to you for his recommendation, " said St Clarelaughing, as he turned on his heel and walked away. '

Augustine St Clare was a wealthy citizen of New Orleans, and possesseda domestic establishment of great extent and elegance, with a body ofservants in the condition of slaves, to whom he was an indulgentmaster. The description of this splendid mansion, with its loungingand wasteful attendants, its indolent, pretty, and capriciouslady-mistress, and the account of Ophelia, a shrewd New-Englandcousin, who managed the household affairs, must be considered thebest, or at least the most amusing portion of the work. The authoressalso dwells with fondness on the character of the gentle Eva, a childof uncommon talents, but so delicate in health, so ethereal, thatwhile still on earth, she seems already an angel of paradise leadingand beckoning to Heaven. Eva was kind to everybody--kind even toTopsy, a negro girl whom St Clare had one day bought out of merecharity, on seeing her cruelly lashed by her former master andmistress. Topsy is a fine picture of a brutalised young negro, whonever speaks the truth even by chance, and steals because she cannothelp it. Every one gives up Topsy as utterly irreclaimable--all exceptthe gentle Eva. Caught in a fresh act of theft, Topsy is led away byEva. 'There was a little glass-room at the corner of the veranda, which St Clare used as a sort of reading-room; and Eva and Topsydisappeared into this place. 

"What's Eva going about now?" said St Clare; "I mean to see. " Andadvancing on tiptoe, he lifted up a curtain that covered theglass-door, and looked in. In a moment, laying his finger on his lips, he made a silent gesture to Miss Ophelia to come and look. There satthe two children on the floor, with their side-faces towards them, Topsy with her usual air of careless drollery and unconcern; but, opposite to her, Eva, her whole face fervent with feeling, and tearsin her large eyes. 

"What does make you so bad, Topsy? Why won't you try and be good?Don't you love _anybody_, Topsy?"

"Donno nothing 'bout love. I loves candy and sich--that's all, " saidTopsy. 

"But you love your father and mother?"

"Never had none, ye know. I telled ye that, Miss Eva. "

"Oh, I know, " said Eva sadly; "but hadn't you any brother, or sister, or aunt, or"----

"No, none on 'm--never had nothing nor nobody. "

"But, Topsy, if you'd only try to be good, you might"----

"Couldn't never be nothin' but a nigger, if I was ever so good, " saidTopsy. "If I could be skinned, and come white, I'd try then. "

"But people can love you, if you are black, Topsy. Miss Ophelia wouldlove you if you were good. "

'Topsy gave the short, blunt laugh that was her common mode ofexpressing incredulity. 

"Don't you think so?" said Eva. 

"No; she can't bar me, 'cause I'm a nigger!--she'd's soon have a toadtouch her. There can't nobody love niggers, and niggers can't donothin'. _I_ don't care, " said Topsy, beginning to whistle. 

"O Topsy, poor child, _I_ love you, " said Eva, with a sudden burst offeeling, and laying her little thin white hand on Topsy's shoulder--"Ilove you because you haven't had any father, or mother, orfriends--because you've been a poor, abused child! I love you, and Iwant you to be good. I am very unwell, Topsy, and I think I shan'tlive a great while; and it really grieves me to have you be sonaughty. I wish you would try to be good, for my sake; it's only alittle while I shall be with you. "

'The round, keen eyes of the black child were overcast with tears;large bright drops rolled heavily down, one by one, and fell on thelittle white hand. Yes, in that moment a ray of real belief, a ray ofheavenly love, had penetrated the darkness of her heathen soul. Shelaid her head down between her knees, and wept and sobbed; while thebeautiful child, bending over her, looked like the picture of somebright angel stooping to reclaim a sinner. 

"Poor Topsy!" said Eva, "don't you know that Jesus loves all alike? Heis just as willing to love you as me. He loves you just as I do, onlymore, because he is better. He will help you to be good, and you cango to heaven at last, and be an angel for ever, just as much as if youwere white. Only think of it, Topsy; _you_ can be one of those spiritsbright Uncle Tom sings about. "

"O dear Miss Eva!--dear Miss Eva!" said the child, "I will try--I willtry! I never did care nothin' about it before. "'

By such persuasions, Eva had the happiness to see the beginning ofimprovement in Topsy, who finally assumed an entirely new character, and attained a respectable position in society. 

Eva, after this, declined rapidly. Uncle Tom was much in her room. 'The child suffered much from nervous restlessness, and it was arelief to her to be carried; and it was Tom's greatest delight tocarry her little frail form in his arms, resting on a pillow, now upand down her room, now out into the veranda; and when the freshsea-breezes blew from the lake, and the child felt freshest in themorning, he would sometimes walk with her under the orange-trees inthe garden, or, sitting down in some of their old seats, sing to hertheir favourite old hymns. The desire to do something was not confinedto Tom. Every servant in the establishment shewed the same feeling, and in their way did what they could. ' At length, the momentof departure of this highly-prized being arrives. 'It ismidnight--strange, mystic hour, when the veil between the frailpresent and the eternal future grows thin--then came the messenger!'St Clare was called, and was up in her room in an instant. 'What wasit he saw that made his heart stand still? Why was no word spokenbetween the two? Thou canst say, who hast seen that same expression onthe face dearest to thee--that look, indescribable, hopeless, unmistakable, that says to thee that thy beloved is no longer thine. 

'On the face of the child, however, there was no ghastly imprint--onlya high and almost sublime expression--the overshadowing presence ofspiritual natures, the dawning of immortal life in that childish soul. 

'They stood there so still, gazing upon her, that even the ticking ofthe watch seemed too loud. ' Tom arrived with the doctor. The house wasaroused--'lights were seen, footsteps heard, anxious faces throngedthe veranda, and looked tearfully through the glass doors; but StClare heard and said nothing; he saw only _that look_ on the face ofthe little sleeper. 

"Oh, if she would only wake, and speak once more!" he said; and, stooping over her, lie spoke in her ear: "Eva, darling!"

'The large blue eyes unclosed--a smile passed over her face; she triedto raise her head, and to speak. 

"Do you know me, Eva?"

"Dear papa, " said the child with a last effort, throwing her armsabout his neck. In a moment, they dropped again; and as St Clareraised his head, he saw a spasm of mortal agony pass over the face:she struggled for breath, and threw up her little hands. 

"O God, this is dreadful!" he said, turning away in agony, andwringing Tom's hand, scarce conscious what he was doing. "O Tom, myboy, it is killing me!"

'The child lay panting on her pillows, as one exhausted; the largeclear eyes rolled up and fixed. Ah, what said those eyes that spoke somuch of heaven? Earth was passed, and earthly pain; but so solemn, somysterious, was the triumphant brightness of that face, that itchecked even the sobs of sorrow. They pressed around her in breathlessstillness. 

"Eva!" said St Clare gently. She did not hear. 

"O Eva, tell us what you see! What is it?" said her father. 

'A bright, a glorious smile passed over her face, and she said, brokenly: "O love--joy--peace!" gave one sigh, and passed from deathunto life!'

Previous to the death of the dear Eva, she had induced her father topromise to emancipate Tom, and he was taking steps to give thisfaithful servant his liberty, when a terrible catastrophe occurred. StClare was suddenly killed in attempting to appease a quarrel in one ofthe coffee-rooms of New Orleans. His family were plunged into griefand consternation; and by his trustees the whole of the servants inthe establishment, Uncle Tom included, were brought to sale in theopen market. 

'Beneath a splendid dome were men of all nations, moving to and froover the marble pavé. On every side of the circular area were littletribunes, or stations, for the use of speakers and auctioneers. Two ofthese, on opposite sides of the area, were now occupied by brilliantand talented gentlemen, enthusiastically forcing up, in English andFrench commingled, the bids of connoisseurs in their various wares. Athird one, on the other side, still unoccupied, was surrounded by agroup waiting the moment of sale to begin. And here we may recognisethe St Clare servants, awaiting their turn with anxious and dejectedfaces. 

'Tom had been standing wistfully examining the multitude of facesthronging around him for one whom he would wish to call master; and, if you should ever be under the necessity, sir, of selecting out oftwo hundred men one who was to become your absolute owner anddisposer, you would perhaps realise, just as Tom did, how few therewere that you would feel at all comfortable in being made over to. Tomsaw abundance of men, great, burly, gruff men; little, chirping, driedmen; long-favoured, lank, hard men; and every variety ofstubbed-looking, common-place men, who pick up their fellow-men as onepicks up chips, putting them into the fire or a basket with equalunconcern, according to their convenience; but he saw no St Clare. 

'A little before the sale commenced, a short, broad, muscular man, ina checked shirt, considerably open at the bosom, and pantaloons muchthe worse for dirt and wear, elbowed his way through the crowd, likeone who is going actively into a business; and, coming up to thegroup, began to examine them systematically. From the moment that Tomsaw him approaching, he felt an immediate and revolting horror at him, that increased as he came near. He was evidently, though short, ofgigantic strength. His round, bullet head, large, light-gray eyes, with their shaggy, sandy eyebrows, and stiff, wiry, sun-burned hair, were rather unprepossessing items, it is to be confessed; his large, coarse mouth was distended with tobacco, the juice of which, from timeto time, he ejected from him with great decision and explosive force;his hands were immensely large, hairy, sun-burned, freckled, and verydirty, and garnished with long nails, in a very foul condition. Thisman proceeded to a very free personal examination of the lot. Heseized Tom by the jaw, and pulled open his mouth to inspect his teeth;made him strip up his sleeve to shew his muscle; turned him round, made him jump and spring, to shew his paces. ' Almost immediately, Tomwas ordered to mount the block. 'Tom stepped upon the block, gave afew anxious looks round; all seemed mingled in a common, indistinctnoise--the clatter of the salesman crying off his qualifications inFrench and English, the quick fire of French and English bids; andalmost in a moment came the final thump of the hammer, and the clearring on the last syllable of the word "_dollars_, " as the auctioneerannounced his price, and Tom was made over. --He had a master!

'He was pushed from the block; the short, bullet-headed man, seizinghim roughly by the shoulder, pushed him to one side, saying, in aharsh voice: "Stand there, _you_!"'

By his new and rude master, Tom was forthwith marched off; put onboard a vessel for a distant cotton-plantation on Red River; strippedof his decent apparel by his savage owner, and dressed in the meanesthabiliments. The treatment of the poor negro was now most revolting. He was wrought hard under a burning sun; half-starved; scourged;loaded with the grossest abuse. All this ends in a rapid decline ofhealth; and his story terminates with an account of his death, hislast moments being dignified by a strong sentiment of piety, and offorgiveness towards his inhuman taskmaster. 

We have now presented a sufficiently ample abstract of _Uncle Tom'sCabin_, a work which will undoubtedly be perused at length by all whofeel deeply on the subject of negro slavery. Of the authoress, Mrs H. B. Stowe, it may be said, that her chief merit consists in closeobservation of character, with a forcible and truth-like power ofdelineation. In plot, supposing her to aim at such a thing, shedecidedly fails, and the winding-up of her _dramatis personæ_ ishurried and imperfect. Notwithstanding these defects, however, she hassucceeded in rivetting universal attention, while her aims are in thehighest degree praiseworthy. 

HANDEL IN DUBLIN. 

If biographers will occasionally make assertions at random, and passlightly over important events, because their records are not at hand, while they give ample development to others, just because thematerials for doing so are more abundant, it is well that there is tobe found here and there an industrious _littérateur_, who will leaveno leaf unturned, and no corner unexplored, if he suspects that anyerror has been committed, or any passage of interest slighted, in thememoirs of a favourite author. 

Mr Mainwaring, the earliest biographer of Handel, and, on hisauthority, a host of subsequent writers, took upon them to assert, without any apparent foundation, that the oratorio of the _Messiah_was performed in London in the year 1741, previously to Handel's visitto Ireland; but that it met with a cold reception, and this was onecause of his leaving England. Dr Burney, when composing his _Historyof Music_, examined all the London newspapers where public amusementswere advertised during 1741 and for several previous years, but foundno mention whatever of this oratorio. He remembered, too, being aschool-boy at Chester when Handel spent a week there, waiting for fairwinds to carry him across the Channel, and taking advantage of thedelay 'to prove some books that had been hastily transcribed, bytrying the choruses which he intended to perform in Ireland. ' Anamateur band was mustered for him, and the manuscript choruses thusverified were those of the _Messiah_. In the absence, therefore, ofstronger evidence to the contrary, Dr Burney believed that Dublin hadthe honour of its first performance. An Irish barrister has now provedthis, we think, beyond dispute. [1] His evidence has been drawn fromthe newspaper tomes of 1741, preserved in the public libraries ofDublin, confirmed by the records of the cathedrals and some of thecharitable institutions, and yet more emphatically from some originalletters of this date. He has thus succeeded in doing 'justice toIreland, ' by securing for it, in all time to come, the distinguishedplace which it is entitled to occupy in the history of this great man. Perhaps we should rather say, he has done justice to England, byclearing it of the imputation of having 'coldly received' a musicalproduction to which immortal fame has since been decreed. While themusical world will thank our author for several new facts particularlyinteresting to them, the main attraction for general readers willprobably be found in the glimpses which this volume affords of a _beaumonde_ which has passed away. 

In 1720, a royal academy for the promotion of Italian operas wasfounded in London by some of the nobility and gentry under royalauspices. Handel, Bononcini, and Areosti, were engaged as atriumvirate of composers; and to Handel was committed the charge ofengaging the singers. But the rivalry between him and Bononcini roseto strife; the aristocratic patrons took nearly equal sides; and afurious controversy on their respective merits was carried on foryears. Hence the epigram of Dean Swift--

 Some say that Signor Bononcini, Compared to Handel, is a ninny; Others aver that to him Handel Is scarcely fit to hold the candle. Strange that such difference should be 'Twixt tweedledum and tweedledee!

When the withdrawal of both his rivals left Handel in sole possessionof the field, he quarrelled with some of his principal performers, andthereupon ensued new scenes of discord. Ladies of the highest rankentered with enthusiasm into the strife; and while some flourishedtheir fans aloft on the side of Faustina, whom Handel had introducedin order to supersede Cuzzoni, another party, headed by the Countessof Pembroke, espoused the cause of the depressed songstress, and madeher take an oath on the Holy Gospels, that she would never submit toaccept a lower salary than her rival. The humorous poets of the daytook up the theme, Pope introduced it into his _Dunciad_, andArbuthnot published two witty brochures, entitled _Harmony in anUproar_, and _The Devil to Pay at St James's_. The result of these andother contests, in which Handel gradually lost ground, was theestablishment of a rival Opera at Lincoln's Inn Fields. It waspatronised by the Prince of Wales and most of the nobles; and not eventhe presence of the king and queen, who continued the steady friendsof Handel, could attract for him an audience at the Haymarket. Itbecame quite fashionable to decry his compositions as beneath thenotice of musical connoisseurs. Politics, it is said, came to minglein the controversy; and those who held by the king's Opera were ascertainly Tories, as those who went to the nobility's were Whigs. Ofcourse all this was very foolish, and very wrong; yet in our days ofstately conventionality, when perfect impassibility is deemed thehighest style of breeding, there is something refreshing in reading ofsuch animated scenes in high life. The crowning act of hostility toHandel, was when the Earl of Middlesex himself assumed the professionof manager of Italian operas, and engaged the king's theatre, with anew composer, and a new company. 

Handel had, for some time, been meditating a withdrawal from theOpera, in order to devote himself exclusively to the composition ofsacred music, of which he had already produced several fine specimens. He was wont to say, that this was an occupation 'better suited to thecircumstances of a man advancing in years, than that of adapting musicto such vain and trivial words as the musical drama generally consistsof. ' The truth was, he had discovered his forte. But the tide offashionable feeling ran so strongly against him, that even theperformance of the oratorios of _Saul_ and _Israel in Egypt_ scarcelypaid expenses. Unwilling to submit his forthcoming _Messiah_ also tothe caprices of fashion, and the malignity of party, he wiselyembraced an opportunity which was opened to him of bringing out thisgreat work in Dublin, under singularly favourable auspices, andcrossed the Channel in November 1741. 

Those who are acquainted with the Irish metropolis--not merely withthe handsome streets and squares eastward, which are now the abodes ofgentility, but with the dirty thoroughfares about the cathedrals--haveobserved the large houses which some of them contain, now let insingle rooms to a wretched population, and need scarcely be told thatthey were once the abodes of wealth and luxury. Fishamble Street, inthis quarter of the town, is one of the oldest streets in Dublin. 'Under the eastern gable of the ancient cathedral of Christ's Church, separated and hidden from it by a row of houses, it winds its crookedcourse down the hill from Castle Street to the Liffey, as forlorn andneglected as other old streets in its vicinity. A number oftrunkmakers' shops give it an aspect somewhat peculiar; miserablealleys open from it on the right and left; a barber's pole or twooverhang the footway; and huxters' shops are frequent, with theirwonted array of articles more useful than ornamental. One would neverguess, looking at this old street, that it was once the festive resortof the wealthy and refined. It needs an effort of imagination toconceive of it as having witnessed the gay throng of fashion andaristocracy; the vice-regal _cortège_; ladies, in hoops and feathers;and "white-gloved beaux, " in bag, and sword, and chapeau; with scoresof liveried footmen and pages; and the press of coaches, and chariots, and sedan-chairs. Yet such was the scene often presented here in theeighteenth century. ' For see, in an oblique angle of the street, andsomewhat retired from the other houses, is a mean, neglected oldbuilding, with a wooden porch, still known by name as the FishambleStreet Theatre. This is the remaining part of what was originally 'thegreat music-hall, ' built by a charitable musical society, 'finished inthe most elegant manner, under the direction of Captain Castell, ' andopened to the public on the 2d October 1741. It was within these wallsthat the notes of the _Messiah_ first sounded in the ears of anenraptured audience, and here that its author entered on a new careerof fame. 

To prepare for the reception of this, his master-work, Handel firstgave a series of musical entertainments, consisting of some of hisearlier oratorios, and other kindred compositions. They commanded amost distinguished auditory, including the Lord-Lieutenant and hisfamily, and were crowned with success in a pecuniary point of view, answering, and indeed exceeding, the composer's highest expectations. In a letter written at this time to Mr C. Jennens, who had selectedthe words of the _Messiah_, and composed those of a cantata which hadbeen much admired, he describes, in glowing colours, his happyposition, and informs him that he had set the _Messiah_ to musicbefore he left England--thus inferentially affording additionalevidence that it had not been performed there. Moreover, theadvertisements call it Handel's _new_ oratorio, and boast that it wascomposed expressly for the charitable purpose to which the proceeds ofits first performance were consecrated. This is confirmed by referenceto the minutes of one at least of these institutions, in which itappears that Handel was in correspondence with them before he hadcompleted his composition. 

The people of Dublin are passionately fond of music, and charitablemusical societies form a peculiar and interesting feature of itssociety during the last century. These were academies or clubs, eachof which was attached in the way of patronage to some particularcharity, to which its revenues were consecrated. Whitelaw, in his_History of Dublin_ (1758), mentions a very aristocratic musicalacademy, which held its meetings in the Fishamble Street Hall, underthe presidency of the Earl of Mornington--the Duke of Wellington'sfather. His lordship was himself the leader of the band; among thevioloncellos were Lord Bellamont, Sir John Dillon, and Dean Burke;among the flutes, Lord Lucan; at the harpsichord, Lady Freke; and soon. Their meetings, we are told, were private, except once a year, when they performed in public for a charitable purpose, and admittedall who chose to buy tickets. It does not appear, however, that thisacademy was identical with the association that built the hall, andwhose concerts seem to have been much more frequent, as well as itsbenevolent designs more extensive. It was called, _par eminence_, TheCharitable Musical Society; the others having distinctive designationsbesides. The objects of its benevolence were the prisoners of theMarshalseas, who were in circumstances similar to those which, manyyears afterwards, elicited the benevolent labours of John Howard:confined often for trifling debts, pining in hopeless misery, andwithout food, save that received from the casual hand of charity. Thissociety made a daily distribution of bread among some of these, whileothers were released through their humane exertions. On the 17th ofMarch 1741, they report, that 'the Committee of the Charitable MusicalSociety appointed for this year to visit the Marshalseas in this city, and release the prisoners confined therein for debt, have alreadyreleased 188 miserable persons of both sexes. They offered areasonable composition to the creditors, and many of the creditorsbeing in circumstances almost equally miserable with their debtors, due regard was paid by the committee to this circumstance. ' Theirfunds must have improved considerably after the erection of theirMusic Hall, which seems to have been the largest room of the kind inDublin, and in frequent requisition for public concerts, balls, andother reunions where it was desirable to assemble a numerous company, or employ a large orchestra. The hire of the hall on such occasionswould form a handsome addition to the proceeds of their own concerts. 

It was to these funds that the proceeds of the first performance ofthe _Messiah_ were devoted, in connection with those of Mercer'sHospital, an old and still eminent school of surgery--and the RoyalInfirmary, which still exists in Jervis Street as a place for theimmediate reception of persons meeting with sudden accidents. Theperformance was duly advertised in _Faulkner's Journal_, with theadditional announcement, that 'many ladies and gentlemen who arewell-wishers to this noble and grand charity, for which this oratoriowas composed, request it as a favour that the ladies who honour thisperformance with their presence would be pleased to come withouthoops, as it will greatly increase the charity by making room for morecompany. ' In another advertisement it is added, that 'the gentlemenare desired to come without their swords. '

On the ensuing Saturday, the following account was given of thismemorable festival: 'On Tuesday last (April 13, 1742), Mr Handel'ssacred grand oratorio, the _Messiah_, was performed in the New MusickHall in Fishamble Street; the best judges allowed it to be the mostfinished piece of musick. Words are wanting to express the exquisitedelight it afforded to the admiring, crowded audience. The sublime, the grand, and the tender, adapted to the most elevated, majestick, and moving words, conspired to transport and charm the ravished heartand ear. It is but just to Mr Handel, that the world should know hegenerously gave the money arising from this grand performance to beequally shared by the Society for Relieving Prisoners, the CharitableInfirmary, and Mercer's Hospital, for which they will ever gratefullyremember his name; and that the gentlemen of the two choirs, MrDubourg, Mrs Avolio, and Mrs Cibber, who all performed their parts toadmiration, acted also on the same disinterested principle, satisfiedwith the deserved applause of the publick, and the conscious pleasureof promoting such useful and extensive charity. There were above 700people in the room, and the sum collected for that noble and piouscharity amounted to about L. 400, out of which L. 127 goes to each ofthe three great and pious charities. '

Handel remained five months longer in the Irish metropolis, duringwhich period it is recorded that 'he diverted the thoughts of thepeople from every other pursuit. ' On his return to London in August1742, he was warmly received by his former friends; his enemies, too, were greatly conciliated. His having relinquished all concern withoperatic affairs, and opened for himself a new and undisputed sphere, removed the old grounds of hostility; while the enthusiastic receptionwhich he had met in Dublin, had served as an effectual reproach tothose whose malignity had forced him to seek for justice there. Notwithstanding some difficulties at the outset of his new career athome, he lived to realise an income of above L. 2000 a year, and neverfound it necessary or convenient to revisit Ireland; but the custom ofperforming his oratorios and cantatas for the benefit of medicalcharities was maintained for many years; and it is believed that theworks of no other composer have so largely contributed to the reliefof human suffering. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _An Account of the Visit of Handel to Dublin. _ By HoratioTownsend, Esq. London: Orr & Co. 

ROYAL GARDENING. 

Gardening has frequently been one of the most exhilarating recreationsof royalty. When Lysander, the Lacedemonian general, broughtmagnificent presents to Cyrus, the younger son of Darius, who piquedhimself more on his integrity and politeness than on his rank andbirth, the prince conducted his illustrious guest through his gardens, and pointed out to him their varied beauties. Lysander, struck with sofine a prospect, praised the manner in which the grounds were laidout, the neatness of the walks, the abundance of fruits planted withan art which knew how to combine the useful with the agreeable; thebeauty of the parterres, and the glowing variety of flowers exhalingodours universally throughout the delightful scene. 'Everything charmsand transports me in this place, ' said Lysander to Cyrus; 'but whatstrikes me most is the exquisite taste and elegant industry of theperson who drew the plan of these gardens, and gave it the fine order, wonderful disposition, and happiness of arrangement which I cannotsufficiently admire. ' Cyrus replied: 'It was I that drew the plan, andentirely marked it out; and many of the trees which you see wereplanted by my own hands. ' 'What!' exclaimed Lysander with surprise, and viewing Cyrus from head to foot--'is it possible, that with thosepurple robes and splendid vestments, those strings of jewels andbracelets of gold, those buskins so richly embroidered; is it possiblethat you could play the gardener, and employ your royal hands inplanting trees?' 'Does that surprise you?' said Cyrus. 'I assure you, that when my health permits, I never sit down to table without havingfatigued myself, either in military exercise, rural labour, or someother toilsome employment, to which I apply myself with pleasure. 'Lysander, still more amazed, pressed Cyrus by the hand, and said: 'Youare truly happy, and deserve your high fortune, since you unite itwith virtue. '

UNDER THE PALMS. 

BY CALDER CAMPBELL. 

 Under the palm-trees on India's shore Ne'er shall I wander at morning or eve; Hearts there have withered, but still in the core Of mine springs the memory of feelings that give Green thoughts in sunshine and bright hopes in gloom; Friendship, which love's loud emotions becalms: Oh, happy was I, in those bowers of perfume, Under the palms!

 Go forth, little children; the wood's insect-hum Invites ye; expand there, like buds in the sun; Leave schools and their studies for days that _will_ come, And let thy first lessons from nature be won! Teachings hath nature most sage and most sweet-- The music that swells in the tree-linnet's psalms; So taught, my young heart learned to prize that retreat Under the palms!

 The odour of jasmines afloat on the breeze, That woke in the dawning the birds on each bough; The frolicsome squirrels, that scampered at case 'Mid lithe leaves and soft moss that smiled down below: Heaps piled up of mangoes, all fragrant and rich; Guavas pink-cored, such a wealth of sweet alms Presented by bright maids, whose sweet songs bewitch Under the palms!

 Pale, yellow bananas, with satiny pulp That tastes like some dainty of sugar and cream; Blithe-kernelled pomegranates, just gathered to help A feast fit to serve in the bowers of a dream! Milk, foaming and snowy; rice, swelling and sweet; Iced sherbet that cools, and spiced ginger that warms: Oh, simple our banquet in that dear retreat Under the palms!

 A tinkling of lutes and a toning of voices-- Of young maiden voices just fresh from the bath; A sprinkling of rosewater cool, that rejoices The scented grass screening our bower from the path; Trim baskets of melons, new gathered, beside Fair bunches of blossoms that heal all sick qualms; And books, when to reading our fancies subside, Under the palms!

 Or silence at eve when the sun hath gone down, Or the sound of _one_ cithern makes melody near; While a beautiful boy, that hath ne'er known a frown, Softly murmurs a tale of the East in the ear; Of peris, that cluster round flower-stalks like fruit-- Of genii, that breathe amid blossoms and balms-- Of gazelle-eyed houris, that play on sweet lutes Under the palms!

 Of roses, that nightly unfold their flower-leaves To welcome the lays of the loved nightingale-- Of spirits, that home in an Eden of Eves Where the sun never scorches, the strength never fails! So singing, so playing, Sleep steals on us all, Enclasping us gently within her soft arms;-- Let me dream that the moonbeams still over me fall Under the palms!

 * * * * *

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