CHAMBERS' EDINBURGH JOURNAL

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

 No. 458. NEW SERIES. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1852. PRICE 1-1/2_d. _

A SWIM EXTRAORDINARY. 

I have been all my life a sort of amphibious animal, having, like manyan old Roman, learned to swim long before I had learned to read. Thebounding backs of the billows were my only rocking-horse when I was achild, and dearly I loved to ride them when a fresh breeze wasblowing. I rarely tired in the water, where I often amused myself forhours together. I grew up with such a liking for the exercise, that Ihave never been able to forego the opportunity for a swim when itoffered; and a daily bath has been for a long course of years asnecessary to me as my daily food. The exercise of swimming has beenthrough life my chief pleasure and my only medicine--a never-failingrestorative from weakness and weariness, and, what may appear strangeto some readers, from the effects of irritation, anxiety, andmortification as well. 

This accomplishment, however, once led me into a strange adventure. Iwas engaged in a rather extensive commercial tour through the centralkingdoms of Europe. I had crossed the Hungarian frontier about themiddle of the day, after being much annoyed and chafed by amultiplicity of delays and extortions; and at length, hot and wearied, arrived at B---- late in the evening. As soon as I caught sight of theDanube in the distance, I resolved that the first thing I would doafter getting housed and refreshed by a few hours' sleep, should be toenjoy the luxury of a leisurely swim in that noble river. With thisview, passing through the town, I put up at a small but decent_gasthof_ which stood upon a patch of rising ground close upon themargin of the stream; and having first seen to the comfort of myhorse, which was well-nigh knocked up with the day's journey, and nextattended to my own, I retired to rest at an early hour, withoutdescending to the common room and joining in the beery orgies of theevening. I rose next morning, as was my custom, a full half hourbefore the sun; and finding no one stirring in the house, proceeded tothe stables, the back of which overlooked the water. Here I found amiddle-aged tatterdemalion, whose flesh and costume were all of onecolour, and that the precise hue of the dungheap from which he hadjust arisen, and from which one might have imagined him to have beenengendered. He was in the act of cleaning out the stable, as well asthe task could be accomplished, with his bare feet and a shovel, theblade of which was not much bigger than his hand. With some trouble, and with the aid of a small coin, I contrived to make him understandmy purpose; and he led me up stairs to a loft, in which I mightundress and deposit my clothes, and pointed to a rude flight of woodensteps, leading from the window to the water's edge, and from which Imight plunge in from any height I chose. 

In a few minutes, I had left my clothes upon a truss of odorousclover, and plunging in head-foremost from the top of the ladder, Irose to the surface at a few yards' distance from the bank, and struckout vigorously to enjoy my swim. The sensation was deliciously cooland pleasant. Keeping my eyes fixed upon the opposite shore, I madetowards it, feeling all the while as light as a cork and as strong asa colt. How long I revelled in the first exquisite sense of enjoymentI have not, nor had I then, any very distinct idea. Turning, however, upon my back, just to vary my position, my head, of course, faced theshore I had left, from which, to my great surprise, the good town Ihad left had vanished entirely, and I became aware that the rapidcurrent of the river, upon which, in my eagerness for a bath, I hadnot bestowed a single thought, had already carried me some mile or twoin its progress towards the Black Sea. Not being victualled for solong a voyage, I began to look around me, and to curse the headlonghaste which had brought me into such a dilemma. I found that I was asnearly as possible in the centre of the stream, and immediately putall my vigour in requisition to regain the shore I had left. This, tomy no small dismay, I soon discovered was not to be accomplished, thecurrent setting strong towards the opposite side. I made an experimentof my strength by means of a small chip of wood which floated by: Icould judge what prospect I had of regaining the northern bank of theriver by the distance at which I could leave the chip behind me, whileswimming in a contrary direction; but it was of no use: in a quarterof an hour's hard struggling I had not gained twenty yards, while Ihad floated more than a mile further down the stream. Nothing remainedfor it but to make for the shore, towards which I was drifting at anyrate, and that must be done as fast as possible; for being now reallyalarmed, I felt, or fancied that I felt my strength deserting me. Under this impression, I struck out more furiously, and thus fatiguedmyself the more; and it was with no small difficulty I at last reachedthe opposite bank, up which I climbed, with sensations almost asforlorn and hopeless as those of the shipwrecked mariner whom thetempest casts ashore. 

In fact, I would have given a round sum for the rags of theshipwrecked mariner to cover me. Here I was in the condition of aprimeval savage, on a desert spot, without a dwelling in sight, andprevented, by the want of clothing, from seeking out the habitationsof men. I ran to the highest ground in the neighbourhood, and that wasclose to the water's edge, and looked around me in every direction. Onthe shore which I had left, I could see what appeared the dim outlineof buildings at a great distance; but on the side of the river onwhich I was standing, nothing but a vast tract of low land wasvisible, which, from its swampy condition, it was plain was overflowedby the river in times of flood. I hallooed for some minutes with allthe strength of my lungs; but the only response was the rising of afew moorfowl from the marsh, which wheeled cackling above my head, asthough wondering what my business might be, and then settled downagain in the reedy pool from whence they had arisen at my cry. I satdown upon a stone, and feeling that I was fast going into a state ofdistraction, tried to collect my faculties, and to consider what wasbest to be done, or, indeed, if anything could be done. With the senseof my desperate condition came also a horrible sense of the ludicrous. What would my principals in London think of their continental agentshivering, without a rag on, upon the desolate banks of the Danube?Here was I, a man well known upon 'Change, with four thousand poundsin the three-and-a-half per cents, the idea of which had been acomfort to me for many a long year, ready to forfeit the whole sum inexchange for the raggedest pair of pantaloons that ever dangled from ascarecrow, and ready, too, to go down upon my bare knees to anyministering angel of an old Jew who would propose the bargain. Igrinned a despairing laugh at the thought of such an absurd compact, and then groaned aloud as the conviction overcame me, that in mypresent circumstances it would be a prudent one. 

Relapsing into grim and savage silence, I glared gloomily at a sharpjagged stone which lay at my feet, and at length, taking it in myhand, walked mechanically into a stagnant pool, where a group ofwillow sprigs were growing on a few old stumps barely emerging fromthe water. I contrived to sever a dozen or two of the twigs by hackingat them with the flint--and, carrying them to dry ground, was soonbusy in rehearsing over again the toilet of Adam in Paradise. Tyingtheir ends together, I crossed a couple of them over my shoulders inthe manner of a shooting-belt, and from these I managed to suspend akind of frock of green leaves, which effectually transformed myappearance from that of the rude savage of the wild to the civilisedJack-in-the-Green of May-day in London. I may declare without reserve, that I never felt more proud or pleased with any exploit of my wholelife than I now did at the completion of my toilet. My spirits, whichhad before been villainously depressed, rose all at once, and I nolonger despaired of restoration to society. I walked majestically upand down, keeping a careful look-out both upon the water and the land. A boat passed at the distance of half a mile from the shore, but Itried in vain to attract the notice of the crew. My voice could not beheard so far, and if by accident they saw me, they must have mistakenme for a bush. I now turned my back to the river in disgust, andcommenced a severe and careful scrutiny upon the land-side, to see ifI could possibly in any direction make out any signs of life. Five orsix hours must have elapsed since the moment when I plunged headlongfrom the ladder; the sun was now nearly at his meridian; the blue mistwhich had covered everything, and veiled the distance from my view inthe morning when I emerged from the water and crawled up the muddybank, had now entirely rolled away, and the vast level tract ofmarsh-land was open to my inspection to a distance at least of somefive or six English miles, at the extremity of which it was bounded bya rising ground sparsely wooded. I imagined that I could distinguishtho mud-walls of a row of small cottages, partly concealed by a groupof trees, though I was by no means sure that it was not a bank ofearth or the face of a rock. I looked anxiously round for otherindications of life; and after a close and protracted scrutiny, hadthe satisfaction of distinctly perceiving a thin column of white smokewinding up the dark background of the distant hill. I resolved now, incase no means of escape should turn up on the river, to attempt thepassage of the marsh in another hour at latest--though, from formerexperience, I well knew the difficulty of the attempt, and the littleprobability there was that a perfect stranger would succeed in gettingacross. I saw, too, that if I would make the attempt at all, I mustnot defer it much longer, since to be overtaken by darkness in themidst of the bog would be certain destruction. 

I passed another half-hour in surveying the river, in which, aboutfour miles below the point on which I stood, I now for the first timediscovered several small islands, overgrown with reeds or underwood;but they manifested no signs of any human inhabitants, so far as Icould distinguish, and I adhered to my resolution of crossing themarsh. Delaying no longer, I descended from my post of observation, intending to travel in a straight line to the point where I couldstill see the smoke ascending. I had not, however, proceeded 100yards, before I found that my idea of journeying in a straight linewas utterly impracticable. I could walk over the firm soil, and Icould swim the pools; but through the deep masses of soft bog I couldneither walk nor swim; and after a narrow escape from smothering inone of them, I came to a stand-still. I found, too, that now I wasdown in the swamp, I could not see the distant hill which was theobject of my journey, though it was plain, that from any part of themarsh I might see the little mound on the river's brink which I hadjust left. I returned to the mound, and, by the aid of a number ofloose stones which were lying about, contrived to erect a couple ofsmall fagots of willow-branches, at a distance of about ten feet fromeach other, to serve as direction-posts, arranging them so that whileI could see but one of them, I might know that I was in the righttrack. Thus I was left at liberty to take a sinuous course in searchof firm ground, as, by making an observation by my telegraph, I couldat any time regain the right path. 

It is my decided opinion, that had I been left alone, and suffered tocontinue my journey, I should have accomplished the undertaking, arduous as it was. I had already walked and waded, and swum andstaggered, and floundered along for more than a mile, when I suddenlycaught sight of a ragged, bare-headed figure about half a mile inadvance of me, who was stooping over a stagnant pool, and groping inthe water for something, perhaps leeches, of which he was in search. Without reflecting for a moment what might be the effect of my suddenapparition upon the mind of an ignorant boor alone in such a solitude, and too much overjoyed to think of anything but the overwhelmingdelight of securing a 'guide, philosopher, and friend, ' I hastenedtowards him with all the speed of which I was capable--now clearing aroute among reeds and rushes, and now sinking up to my neck in a pool. In less than half an hour, I had arrived, panting for breath, towithin a few yards of the pond over the margin of which he was stillbending, with his eyes fixed in the water. Pausing for one moment torecover my wind, I raised myself to my full height, and hailed him atthe top of my voice with a 'Hola! Mein Herr, ' which, like an electricshock, brought him to his feet in an instant. I saw in a moment that Ihad committed a fatal blunder. The poor wretch stood aghast, horrifiedbeyond the power of description; his white hair stood on end; hisbloodshot eyes were bursting from their sockets; his mouth yawned likea cavern, and emitted a faint, gurgling sound, and every limb shookwith the agony of fear. I saw that it was necessary to reassure him;and seeing no other way of approaching him than by swimming the pond, I entered the water, and, staff in hand, made towards him. Before Ihad lessened the distance between us one-half, he had so far recoveredhimself as to be able to give utterance to one wild yell of terror, and to take madly to his heels. When I had swum the pool, and ascendedto the spot which he had left, I saw him running at the top of hisspeed, and following a winding route, with which he was evidentlyfamiliar, as he avoided the water and the bogs, and kept on firmground. I made an attempt to come up with him; but in my haste trodupon a piece of loose shale, which, sliding beneath me, threw me uponthe ground, and badly wounded my right foot, so that for the moment Icould proceed no further. 

As I sat upon the ground, endeavouring to stanch the fast-flowingblood from my instep by winding round it some long flags from themarsh, I watched the poor fellow till he was no longer in sight, andmarked that he never relaxed his pace till he disappeared under thecluster of trees above which I had first noticed the white smokeascending. To cross the marsh without a guide, was now out of thequestion; and choosing a dry and mossy spot, I lay down and restedtill the afternoon was far advanced, having made up my mind, if nosuccour came from the hamlet, which I now felt assured was not farfrom the edge of the marsh, that I would return to the river before itwas dark, and make a last and vigorous attempt to swim to the group ofislands which I had observed in the distance, in one or other of whichI might hope to find human inhabitants. I kept my telegraph in sight, and, the sun being now low in the horizon, was thinking of retracingmy steps towards it, when, in the act of rising to do so, I saw aparty of men, of whom I distinctly counted fourteen, threading theirwell-known way through the marsh, and rapidly advancing towards thespot where I lay. They had already measured half the distance, and Imight have seen them long before had I happened to look in thatdirection. I now congratulated myself that my troubles were over, andwas pondering how I could best shew my gratitude to my deliverers, when the doubt was suggested to my mind whether they would provedeliverers or not. I kept my eye steadfastly fixed upon theirmovements, and, as they drew nearer, beheld with dismay that they wereall armed, two of them, who led the van, with old muskets, and therest with staves, scythes, and bludgeons. It was plain that the oldfool I had frightened away had described me to his countrymen as somesavage monster, and this valiant band had come out against me, to huntme to the death. I resolved at once to be sure of their object beforethey came to a disagreeable proximity; and with this view, startedsuddenly to my feet, and shouted as loud as I could. 

My fears were but too well founded. At the first sound of my voice, the leaders recoiled a few steps upon the main body, who stood stillfor a few minutes, apparently in consultation, the result of whichwas, that the firearms changed owners, and two bold fellows stepped tothe front, and, levelling their pieces, kept my naked body coveredwith their muzzles, and only refrained from pulling triggers untilthey should have arrived within killing distance. It was plain I hadno time to lose if I would once more try the river, the only chancenow remaining to me. I turned and hobbled away as fast as my woundedlimb would let me, plunged into the nearest pool, sprawled through thenext bog, crashed through the rushes, hopped along the dry ground uponone foot, and scrambled helter-skelter towards the river, expectingevery moment to hear the report of the firearms, and to feel a handfulof slugs in my body. Never shall I forget the horrors of that chase. Idistanced my pursuers, however, and arrived at the margin of thestream without having once presented a fair target to their aim. I didnot pause long upon the brink of the flood. They were now yelling likeblood-hounds, and their cries rung in my ears as I gained the veryspot where I had landed in the morning, and where I again took to thewater like a hunted deer, or rather like a hunted duck, for I divedunder, with as gentle a splash as possible, and keeping beneath thesurface as long as I could hold breath, rose at length a good fiftyyards from the shore, and full two hundred yards lower down. 

I had no great cause for congratulation at my escape. The sun wassetting, night coming on, and here was I in the middle of the broadstream of the Danube, sweeping on at the rate of five or six miles anhour, with no other prospect in view than that of becoming food forfishes in a very few hours at furthest, unless I could succeed inmaking one of the islands I had seen in the morning. It was a strangething that I felt no fatigue, even after swimming an hour. I hadpassed several small islands, but the rapid stream which they breastedbroke away so furiously from their sides, that I had not strength toget near them. In their wake, I could see that the water was calm andtranquil enough, but that tranquil water I could not reach. By and by, as the darkness fell, I passed several islands much larger, and wasabout attempting to land upon one, when I caught sight of a glimmeringlight at a distance in the centre of the stream. I directed my coursetowards this in preference; and I perceived as I approached that itproceeded from a raft, moored off one of the islands, upon which thecrew were probably cooking their evening meal. I knew that if Iapproached this raft in front, I should inevitably be sucked under, and never see the light again; at the same time, if I gave it too widea berth, I should as surely be carried past it, in which case I feltpretty certain that my last chance would be gone. I made a desperateeffort at the very nick of time, and happily succeeded in laying holdof a rope, which was hanging in the water, by means of which I wasswung round to the stern of the raft, upon which, in a smalltimber-hut, I could see the crew discussing their supper. 

Now that the struggle was over, and my safety secure, all my courageand strength too vanished at once: I felt as weak as a child, and aspusillanimous as a woman, and the hot tears ran down my cheeks likerain. It was as much as I could do to hail the men, who sat laughingand chatting over their porridge not three yards from me, as Iclutched the rope with the energy of a drowning man. They started upat the sound of my cry, and in an instant lifted me on board. Theywere Germans, fortunately; and I gave them to understand in a fewwords, that I had been bathing, and having been carried away by thestream, had narrowly escaped drowning. I was in no humour to put themin possession of my whole miserable adventure, which it is more thanprobable they would not have credited if I had. Having rubbed myselfdry, one of them lent me a blouse, and offered me food, which, plainas it was, I was but too glad to accept; but before I had eaten amouthful, an old man made his appearance, bearing slippers, cloak, andcap, and invited me to follow him to his house upon the island, whereI might pass the night, and cross over to the mainland in the morning. I followed him across a plank, and beneath the shadow of somewillow-trees, to his humble dwelling. He told me that he and hisfamily were the sole inhabitants of the island, and that he united thethree professions of fisherman, innkeeper, and rope-maker, and thusmanaged to make a livelihood. His guests were almost exclusively thenavigators on the river, who frequently moored for the night off hisisland, and partook of such entertainment as he could supply. He senthis fish to market when he caught more than he could consume, and heand his children made ropes and cordage, for which also he had a readysale on the river. Pending this communication, he prepared me asubstantial supper, to which I did ample justice, and then shewed me, at my request, to a small, neat chamber, where I sought and found therepose I so much needed. 

I sank into a profound slumber, heavy and dreamless, within a minuteafter I lay down--the result, no doubt, of the utter exhaustion ofevery faculty, both of body and mind. Possessing a vigorousconstitution, and a perfectly healthy frame, I escaped the reaction ofnervous excitement, which most persons in similar circumstances wouldhave undergone, and which in many would have terminated in fever anddelirium, and perhaps death. But I did not escape altogether. After Ihad lain in total forgetfulness for some hours, my imagination woke upand plagued me with dreams of indescribable terror and alarm. I wasswimming for whole days and nights together in a shoreless sea, tossedby storms, and swarming with monsters, one or other of which wascontinually seizing me by the foot, and dragging me down; while overmy head foul birds of prey, each and all with the terrified face ofthe poor wretch whom I had frightened in the marsh, and clutchingfirearms in their semi-human claws, were firing at my head, andswooping to devour me. To avoid their beaks, I dived madly into thedepths below, where I had to do battle in the dark with the grim andshapeless monsters of the deep. Then, bursting with the retention ofmy breath, I rose again to the surface, and enjoyed a moment's pause, until the screaming harpies again gathered around me, and, convulsedwith fear, I dived again as the vivid flash from their firearmsdazzled my eyes. While performing one of these violent feats, occasioned by a flash which appeared to blaze over the whole sky, Iwoke suddenly. My landlord, the old fisherman, was standing by mybedside; he had drawn aside the curtains of my bed, and let thesunshine in upon my face, the hot gleam of which was doubtless theblazing flash of my dream. I laughed aloud when I found myself snug inbed, and proceeded to dress in the old man's best holiday suit, whichhe placed at my service. My wounded foot had well-nigh healed in thenight, and I could walk comfortably. During breakfast, I gave the oldman and his daughter the real history of my case, to their unspeakableastonishment, and consulted them as to my future operations. Thefisherman volunteered to land me at a small village a few miles below, from whence he would proceed with me to K----, where, uponrepresenting my case to the magistrates, I should be furnished withthe means of getting back to B----, and recovering my property. 

This, in fact, was the only thing I could do. I engaged the fishermanto accompany me through the whole route; and as he had naturally nodesire to lose sight of me, he made no objection. I had slept thirteenhours; and it was ten o'clock in the day, when the old man and I, andhis two lads, embarked in the boat for the nearest village. We arrivedthere before noon, and he hired a conveyance in which we bothproceeded to the place he had mentioned, a distance of some twentymiles, which we reached about three in the afternoon. But my companionhad no more of either money or credit, and I was compelled to apply tothe chief magistrate of the town, whom, by good-fortune, we found athis private residence. He proved a good-natured but rather fussy oldgentleman; and when he had heard my story, which he interrupted with athousand demonstrations of horror, alarm, and sympathy, insisted uponmy sharing the hospitality of his house for the night, assuring methat it would be impossible to proceed that day. I gave a reluctantconsent, upon his promising that he would put me in a condition tostart at an early hour in the morning. Hereupon, consigning mycompanion to the charge of a servant, he ushered me into a saloonadjoining his study, and introduced me to his family, consisting oftwo grown-up sons, three daughters, and their mother, to whom I had totell my luckless adventures over again. That, however, was not theworst of it. As the hour of dinner drew near, the house began to fillwith visitors: it was plain that my arrival, and the circumstancesconnected with it, had been regularly advertised through the town, andall the world was flocking to see the new 'lion' which the river hadturned up. And certainly a lion I was, as the play-bills have it, 'forthat night only. ' I had to tell my story ten times over, and to submitto questionings and cross-questionings without number. All this, perhaps, was but natural enough, considering the circumstances; but itoccasioned me no small annoyance; and feigning excessive fatigue, forwhich I had but too good excuse, I retired early to rest, leaving theassembled guests to pump the old fisherman, which they did to theirhearts' content, and to talk over my adventures at leisure. 

A servant awoke me before dawn. A carriage and post-horses stood atthe door, and after I had made a hearty breakfast, my worthy host putinto my hand a letter of introduction to his brother magistrate atB----. I bade him farewell with many sincere and hearty thanks, entered the carriage with my companion, and drove off. The distance wehad to go may have been about fifty English miles; but the roads werein such wretched condition, and the cattle, which we changed seventimes, of such an abominable breed, that night had fallen upon thetown of B---- before we entered it. I drove at once to the little_gasthof_, where, three days before, at the same hour, I had put upupon my arrival. The landlord bustled out to receive me as thecarriage stopped at the door; but though I identified him immediately, he shewed not the slightest symptom of recognising me. I told thedriver to wait, and beckoning the old fisherman to follow, demanded tobe shewn into a private room, and to be favoured with the landlord'scompany. He obeyed with the utmost alacrity, and taking a lamp fromthe hand of an attendant, led the way to a small room on the firstfloor. 

'Well, Herr Bernstein, ' I said, 'are you not glad to see me backagain?'

'Most happy to see you, gracious sir, ' said he; 'but have not thehonour to recollect your gracious person. '

'Indeed! An Englishman, on a black horse, put up here three days agoat this hour--surely you recollect that?'

'Ah, too well I recollect that. Poor English gentleman--a countrymanof yours, perhaps a friend--ah! dear God! drowned--unhappyman--carried away by the river in the morning before any of us wereup. ' Here he wrung his hands in evident sorrow: 'Ah, that stupidGrute! why did he let the gentleman bathe in the Danube?'

'Stop!' said I; 'let me put an end to your regret--_I_ am thatEnglishman!'

'You--you!' cried he, as he staggered back into a seat. 'But it cannotbe--it is impossible. I do not recollect you: you are deceiving me!Sir, it is a cruel jest. '

'It is no jest, ' said I; 'Heaven be praised. Where is Grute, as youcall him? He will tell you whether it is a jest. '

Grute was the filthy stableman; and the landlord, half-dreaming, ranoff to fetch him--a most unfortunate circumstance, as it put the rogueupon his guard, and prepared him for the part which it was necessaryfor his safety that he should play. The landlord returned in twominutes, dragging Grute in with him. I saw by the sudden pallor of thefellow's countenance, and the quivering of his lip, that he recognisedme on the instant; but he looked doggedly around him, withoutmanifesting any surprise; and when his master pointed me out as theEnglishman supposed to have been drowned, the fellow laughed brutally, and said the attempt wouldn't do, as I was too tall by half a head. Iperceived the truth at once. He had made free with the contents of mypockets, in which I had left a few gold pieces, and for hischaracter's sake he could not afford to admit my identity. Thelandlord plainly mistrusted my tale, now that he had heard theevidence of the stableman, and began to assume a very different tone, and to talk cavalierly of a reference to a magistrate. This remindedme of the letter in my pocket, and I insisted that he shouldimmediately accompany me to the house of the chief-magistrate, whoshould judge between us. He shewed himself provokingly willing tocomply with my demand, and, following me down stairs, entered thecarriage. As we drove along, I inquired as to the fate of my valise, my clothes, and my horse; which latter, especially, I described in away that appeared to stagger him. They were all, he said, in themagistrate's custody, and I should hear more of them, and doubtlessrecover them, if they _were_ mine, when my claim was decided on. Wefound the important functionary at supper. I requested a privateinterview, which was granted, when I presented the letter of my hostat K----, and waited to see the effect of its perusal. I had to wait along while, for my hospitable friend had indulged in a long-windedaccount of the whole adventure, which it took a good half-hour to getthrough. The effect of the narrative was, however, all that I couldhave desired: the worthy magistrate asked me a few questions, as hewas pleased to observe, for form's sake, relative to the contents ofthe valise, which he had himself inspected, and I repliedsatisfactorily. He shook me heartily by the hand, congratulated me onmy miraculous and providential escape, not forgetting my marvellousprowess as a swimmer; and, calling in the landlord of the inn and theold fisherman, wrote out in their presence an order for therestoration of my property, and a warrant for the apprehension ofGrute, who, it appeared, had helped himself to all my loose cash, withthe exception of a single dollar. 

There was racing and chasing after Grute during the whole night, buthe had had the wit to take himself out of the way. My valise hadluckily not been tampered with; the contents were all as I left them;and I had the happiness of rewarding the honest fisherman for thepains he had taken in my behalf, and the confidence he had reposed inme. My poor horse had not been treated so well. In accordance withsome old statute, of which I know nothing, he had been claimed by thecommandant of a small military force stationed in the place, and hadbeen compelled to commence a course of training, under a heavydragoon, for the military service. As he had received but one or twolessons, which consisted almost exclusively of an unlimited allowanceof whip, he had not profited much by instruction. In fact, he had losthis temper without gaining anything in discipline, and I waseventually obliged to part with him, from the impossibility of bearingwith his strange antics. He had cost me fifty guineas in London, and Isold him for fewer thalers to a German dealer, who, no doubt, speedilyfound him a berth in some barrack, where he completed his educationfor the army. Altogether, my extraordinary swim, taking expenses outof pocket and loss of time into account, cost me something over ahundred guineas, and all I got in exchange for them, was thereputation of a Munchausen whenever I dared to open my mouth on thesubject, and a perennial liability to nightmare, with the repetitionand aggravation of all the worst horrors of that miserable day. [1]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Lest our readers should suppose this curious narrative to bemerely an invention of some desperate romancer, it may be proper tostate, that the facts are literally true. The hero of the adventure, when a young man, about the close of the last century, was drivenabroad by political persecution, and not only realised a fortune, butacquired most of the continental languages. On returning to England, where he became acquainted with our contributor, he devoted himselffor the rest of his life to acts of private beneficence, keeping up atthe same time a correspondence in Latin with the learned men of othercountries. --_Ed. C. E. J. _

WOOL FROM PINE-TREES. 

Interesting accounts have recently appeared in foreign journals of anovel branch of industry carried on in Silesia, combining so much ofingenuity and utility, as to render a summary of the information veryacceptable to those who are seeking for new sources of employment orof profit. It appears that in the neighbourhood of Breslau, on adomain known as Humboldt Mead, there are two establishments alikeremarkable: one is a factory for converting the leaves or spines ofthe pine-tree into a sort of cotton or wool; in the other, the waterwhich has served in the manufacture of this vegetable wool, is madeuse of as salutary baths for invalids. They were both erectedunder the direction of Herr von Pannewitz, one of the chiefforest-inspectors, and the inventor of a chemical process, by means ofwhich a fine filamentous substance can be obtained from the long andslender leaves of the pine. This substance has been called _Holzwolle_, wood-wool, from a similarity in its quality to that ofordinary wool; it may be curled, felted, or spun in the same way. 

The _Pinus sylvestris_, or Scotch fir, from which this new product isderived, has been long esteemed in Germany for its many valuablequalities; and instead of being left to its natural growth, iscultivated in plantations of forest-like extent. In this way, manyparts of a vast, dreary, sandy surface are turned to good account, forthe tree grows rapidly on a light soil, imparting to it solidity andconsistency, and affords shelter to the oak, which, under suchfavourable circumstances, acquires such vigour of development as tooutgrow its protector. About the fortieth year of its growth, the pineyields considerable quantities of resin; and the value of the wood forbuilding purposes, and for constructions immersed in water, are wellknown. Mr Pannewitz has, however, added another to its list of usefulapplications; and if the leaves can be employed as described, the_Pinus sylvestris_ may become an object of culture in countries whereit is now neglected. 

The acicular leaves of firs, pines, and coniferæ in general, arecomposed of a bundle, or fasciculus, as a botanist would say, ofextremely fine and tenacious fibres, which are surrounded and heldtogether by thin pellicles of a resinous substance. If this substancebe dissolved by a process of coction, and the employment of certainchemical reagents, the fibres can then be easily separated, washed, and cleansed from all foreign matter. According to the mode oftreatment, the woolly substance is fine or coarse, and is employed aswadding in the one case, and in the other as stuffing for mattresses. Such, in a few words, is an explanation of Mr Pannewitz's discovery. He has preferred the _Pinus sylvestris_ to other species because ofthe greater length of its spines; but there is reason to believe, thatit is not the only kind which may be worked with advantage. 

There is said to be no danger in stripping the trees, even whileyoung, as they only need the whorl of spines to be left at theextremity of each branch, in order to continue their growth; all theother leaves may be removed without damage. The gathering should takeplace while they are in their green state, for at no other time canthe woolly substance be extracted. This operation, which takes placebut once in two years, affords employment and pretty good wages to anumber of poor people, some of whom will collect two hundred pounds ina day. The yield from a branch of the thickness of the finger isestimated at one pound, and a beginner will strip thirty such branchesin a day. In the case of felled trees, the work proceeds with greatrapidity. 

The first use made of the filamentous matter, was to substitute it forthe wadding used in quilted counterpanes. In 1842, five hundredcounterpanes so prepared were purchased for the use of the hospital atVienna; and, after an experience of several years, the purchase hasbeen renewed. It was remarked, among other things, that the influenceof the _wood-wool_ prevented parasitic insects from lodging in thebeds, and the aromatic odour arising from it had been found asbeneficial as it was agreeable. Shortly afterwards, the Penitentiaryat Vienna was provided with the same kind of quilts; and they havesince been adopted--as well as mattresses filled with the samewool--in the Hospital de la Charité at Berlin, and in the MaternityHospital and barracks at Breslau. A trial of five years in thesedifferent establishments has proved, that the wood-wool can be verysuitably employed for counterpanes, and for stuffed or quiltedarticles of furniture, and that it is very durable. 

It was found that, at the end of the five years, a wood-wool mattresshad cost less than one made of straw, as the latter requires anaddition of two pounds of new straw every year. In comparison withhorsehair, it is three times cheaper; it is safe from the attack ofmoth, and in a finished sofa no upholsterer would be able todistinguish between wood-wool and hair-stuffing. 

It has been further ascertained that this wool can be spun and woven. The finest gives a thread similar to that of hemp, and quite asstrong. When spun, woven, and combed, a cloth is produced which hasbeen used for carpets, horse-cloths, &c. ; while, mixed with a canvaswarp, it will serve for quilts, instead of being employed in the formof wadding. 

In the preparation of this wool, an etherised oil is formed, of anagreeable odour, and green in colour, but which an exposure to thelight changes to a yellowish-orange tint, and which resumes itsoriginal colour on the light being again excluded. Under therectifying process, it becomes colourless as water, and is found todiffer from the essence of turpentine extracted from the stem of thesame tree. Its employment has proved most salutary in gouty andrheumatic affections, and when applied to wounds as a balsam; as alsoin certain cases of worm disease and cutaneous tumours. In therectified state, it has been successfully used in the preparation oflacs for the best kinds of varnish; in lamps it burns as well asolive-oil; and it dissolves caoutchouc completely and speedily. Already the perfumers of Paris make large use of this pine-oil. 

With respect to the baths: it having been discovered that a beneficialresult attended the external application of the liquor left after thecoction of the leaves, a bathing establishment was added to thefactory. This liquor is of a greenish-brown tint; and, according tothe process, is either gelatinous and balsamic, or acid; formic acidhaving been produced in the latter case. When an increase in theefficacy of the baths is desired, a quantity of extract obtained bythe distillation of the etherised oil above mentioned, which alsocontains formic acid, is poured into the liquor. Besides which, theliquid itself is thickened by concentration, and sent out in sealedjars to those who wish to have baths at home, thus constituting aprofitable article of trade. 

We understand that these baths have been in operation for nine years, with a continual increase of reputation and number of visitors. Thatthe facts are not exaggerated, would appear from medals having beenawarded to M. Weiss, the proprietor and manager, by societies inBerlin and Altenburg, for the extraordinary results produced. Aslikely to lead to a new development of industry, the processes areespecially worthy of attention. 

The catalogue of utilities is, however, not yet exhausted; there isone more with which we bring our notice to a close. After the washingof the fibre, a great quantity of refuse membraneous substance isobtained by filtration. This being moulded into the form of bricks, and dried, becomes excellent fuel, and gives off so much gas from theresin which it contains, that it may be used for lighting as well asheating. The making of a thousand hundredweights of the wool leaves amass of fuel equal in value to sixty cubic yards of pine-wood. 

CHAMBERS'S LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. [2]

Beheld in his life-time as a singular example of the genius risingfrom the humbler shades of life, Burns is now ranked as a classicamong the poets of his country. The interest originally felt in hispersonal character and unhappy fate, has been deepened as the highabsolute rank of the poet became appreciated. These changes might besaid to call for a more searching inquiry into his life than was atfirst deemed necessary; and the task was undertaken by one, of whom wemay at least be permitted to say, that he possessed the requisite zealand love of the subject. For obvious reasons, we are not to beexpected to say more, in commendation or discommendation, of the worknow under our attention; but we may be allowed to advert to itspeculiar plan, and some of the new details which it brings before theworld. 

The leading feature of the work is the assumption on which itproceeds--that the writings of Burns are in a great measure expressiveof his personal feelings, and descriptive of the scenery andcircumstances of his own existence, and therefore ought to be involvedin his biography. Each poem, song, and letter, known as his, hastherefore been assigned its chronological place in his memoirs, thusat once lending its own biographical light to the general narrative, and deriving thence some illustration in return. The consequence is, that, with the help of much fresh biographical matter drawn fromauthentic sources, the life of the bard, as he loved to call himself, is now given comparatively in detail. We can trace him from day today, and see the ups and downs of his prospects and his feelings, hisstrangely mingled scenes of happiness and misery. We obtain a muchcloser and more distinct view of his domestic existence than we everhad before. The real extent of his aberrations, such as they were, ismore exactly ascertained. Some unexpected particulars emerge; as, forinstance, that, notwithstanding his poverty, he occasionallyaccommodated his friends with money and credit, and almost to the lastwas able to be their host as well as their guest. But perhaps the mostimportant result is what we learn of the wonderful versatility ofBurns's feelings and emotions. He is found writing a pensive, semi-religious letter one day, and the next indulging in some outburstof extravagant merriment. One day, he indulges in a strain ofmelancholy recollection regarding a deceased mistress, commemoratingher in an elegy which hardly any one has ever since been able to readwithout tears; and within four-and-twenty hours, he is again strummingon the comic lyre. A deep mortification falls upon him in the shape ofa censure from the Board of Excise, a pain in which we are peculiarlydisposed to sympathise; but let us not be too eager to suppose thatBurns was permanently affected by any such mark of moral bondage. Aweek or two after, he is found keeping a couple of friends in drinkand merriment at his table for a whole night. It is eminently the_poet_ that is thus brought before us--a being of keen sensibility, but whose gusts of feeling are as quick in passing as they are violentwhile they last. 

Beyond these few sentences, limited to a description of the structureof this work, we can only propose to give one or two extracts. 

Burns, it clearly appears, while degraded by the humble officeassigned to him, did his best, by performing its duties well, toelevate it. He acted humanely towards poor people, but was theconscientious servant of the government in protecting the revenue inessential matters. The editor has been fortunate enough to discoversome documents which set his character as a man of affairs in afavourable light. 

'The first is a petition of T. J. , farmer at Mirecleugh, addressed tothe justices of peace for Dumfriesshire, reclaiming against a fine ofL. 5 which Collector Mitchell had imposed on him for "making fifty-fourbushels of malt, without entry, notice, or licence. " J. Stated that hehad been in the habit of making malt for forty years without makingentry of his kiln or pond, which he deemed unnecessary, because themalting was always effected at one operation, and not till notice hadbeen given to the proper officer. With respect to "notice" on thisoccasion--having inquired of Mr Burns which was the best way ofsending it to him, he had been informed that a letter might be sent to"John Kelloch's, " in Thornhill, whence it might be forwarded by post. He had brought Mrs Kelloch to swear that such a letter had been sentto her by J. 's son for Mr Burns, but had been mislaid. He offered toswear that he had sent the notice to Thornhill in good time, and hadhad no intention to defraud the revenue. With respect to "licence, " J. Averred that he had only been prevented from renewing it as usual thisyear because Mr Mitchell, on his applying for it, had put him off toanother time, on the score of being too busy at the time to grant itto him. 

'In respect of J. 's petition, the justices, Mr Fergusson ofCraigdarroch, and Captain Riddel, ordered the collector to stopproceedings until they should have had an opportunity of inquiringinto the truth of what it set forth. Then came Burns's "Answers to thePetition of T. J. :--

"1. Whether the petitioner has been in use formerly to malt all hisgrain at one operation, is foreign to the purpose: this last season hecertainly malted his crop at four or five operations; but be that asit may, Mr J. Ought to have known that by express act of parliament nomalt, however small the quantity, can be legally manufactured untilprevious entry be made in writing of all the ponds, barns, floors, &c. , so as to be used before the grain can be put to steep. In theExcise entry-books for the division there is not a syllable of T. J. 'sname for a number of years bygone. 

"2. True it is that Mr Burns, on his first ride, in answer to Mr J. 'squestion anent the conveying of the notices, among other ways pointedout the sending it by post as the most eligible method, but at thesame time added this express clause, and to which Mr Burns is willingto make faith: 'At the same time, remember, Mr J. , that the notice isat your risk until it reach me. ' Further, when Mr Burns came to thepetitioner's kiln, there was a servant belonging to Mr J. Ploughing ata very considerable distance from the kiln, who left his plough andthree horses without a driver, and came into the kiln, which Mr B. Thought was rather a suspicious circumstance, as there was nothingextraordinary in an Excise-officer going into a legal malt-floor so asto [induce a man to] leave three horses yoked to a plough in thedistant middle of a moor. This servant, on being repeatedly questionedby Mr Burns, could not tell when the malt was put to steep, when itwas taken out, &c. --in short, was determined to be entirely ignorantof the affair. By and by, Mr J. 's son came in, and on being questionedas to the steeping, taking out of the grain, &c. , Mr J. , junior, referred me to this said servant, this ploughman, who, he said, mustremember it best, as having been the principal actor in the business. The lad _then_, having gotten his cue, circumstantially recollectedall about it. 

"All this time, though I was telling the son and servant the nature ofthe premunire they had incurred, though they pleaded for mercy keenly, the affair of the notice having been sent never once occurred to them, not even the son, who is said to have been the bearer. This was astroke reserved for, and worthy of the gentleman himself. As to MrsKelloch's oath, it proves nothing. She did indeed depone to a linebeing left for me at her house, which said line miscarried. It was asealed letter; she could not tell whether it was a malt-notice or not;she could not even condescend on the month, nor so much as the seasonof the year. The truth is, T. J. And his family being Seceders, andconsequently coming every Sunday to Thornhill Meeting-house, they werea good conveyance for the several maltsters and traders in theirneighbourhood to transmit to post their notices, permits, &c. 

"But why all this tergiversation? It was put to the petitioner in opencourt, after a full investigation of the cause: 'Was he willing toswear that he meant no fraud in the matter?' And the justices told himthat if he swore he would be assoilzied [absolved], otherwise heshould be fined; still the petitioner, after ten minutes'consideration, found his conscience unequal to the task, and declinedthe oath. 

"Now, indeed, he says he is willing to swear: he has been exercisinghis conscience in private, and will perhaps stretch a point. But thefact to which he is to swear was equally and in all parts known to himon that day when he refused to swear as to-day: nothing can give himfurther light as to the intention of his mind, respecting his meaningor not meaning a fraud in the affair. _No time can cast further lighton the present resolves of the mind; but time will reconcile, and hasreconciled many a man to that iniquity which he at first abhorred. _"'

No one can fail to see, even in this piece of business, something ofthe extraordinary mental energy of Burns. 

The daily life of Burns, in his latter years at Dumfries, is describedin the following terms:--'He has daily duties in stamping leather, gauging malt-vats, noting the manufacture of candles, and grantinglicences for the transport of spirits. These duties he performs withfidelity to the king and not too much rigour to the subject. As hegoes about them in the forenoon, in his respectable suit of darkclothes, and with his little boy Robert perhaps holding by his handand conversing with him on his school-exercises, he is beheld by thegeneral public with respect, as a person in some authority, the headof a family, and also as a man of literary note; and people are heardaddressing him deferentially as _Mr_ Burns--a form of his name whichis still prevalent in Dumfries. At a leisure hour before dinner, hewill call at some house where there is a piano--such as Mr Newall, thewriter's--and there have some young miss to touch over for him one ortwo of his favourite Scotch airs, such as, the _Sutor's Daughter_, inorder that he may accommodate to it some stanzas that have beenhumming through his brain for the last few days. For another halfhour, he will be seen standing at the head of some cross street withtwo or three young fellows, bankers' clerks, or "writer-chiels"commencing business, whom he is regaling with sallies of his brightbut not always innocent wit--indulging there, indeed, in a strain ofconversation so different from what had passed in the respectableelderly writer's mansion, that, though he were not the same man, itcould not have been more different. Later in the day, he takes asolitary walk along the Dock Green by the river side, or to Lincluden, and composes the most part of a new song; or he spends a couple ofhours at his folding-down desk, between the fire and window in hisparlour, transcribing in his bold round hand the remarks which occurto him on Mr Thomson's last letter, together with some of his ownrecently composed songs. As a possible variation upon this routine, hehas been seen passing along the old bridge of Devorgilla Balliol, about three o'clock, with his sword-cane in his hand, and his blackbeard unusually well shaven, being on his way to dine with John Symeat Ryedale, where young Mr Oswald of Auchincruive is to be of theparty--or maybe in the opposite direction, to partake of the luxuriesof John Bushby, at Tinwald Downs. But we presume a day when no suchattraction invades. The evening is passing quietly at home, andpleasant-natured Jean has made herself neat, and come in at sixo'clock to give him his tea--a meal he always takes. At this period, however, there is something remarkably exciting in the proceedings ofthe French army under Pichegru; or Fox, Adam, or Sheridan, is expectedto make an onslaught upon the ministry in the House of Commons. Thepost comes into Dumfries at eight o'clock at night. There is always agroup of gentlemen on the street, eager to hear the news. Burnssaunters out to the High Street, and waits amongst the rest. Theintelligence of the evening is very interesting. The Convention hasdecreed the annexation of the Netherlands--or the new treason-bill haspassed the House of Lords, with only the feeble protest of Bedford, Derby, and Lauderdale. These things merit some discussion. Thetrades-lads go off to strong ale in the closes; the gentlemen slide inlittle groups into the King's Arms Hotel or the George. As for Burns, he will just have a single glass and a half-hour's chat beside JohnHyslop's fire, and then go quietly home. So he is quickly absorbed inthe little narrow close where that vintner maintains his state. There, however, one or two friends have already established themselves, allwith precisely the same virtuous intent. They heartily greet the bard. Meg or John bustles about to give him his accustomed place, which noone ever disputes. And, somehow, the debate on the news of the eveningleads on to other chat of an interesting kind. Then Burns becomesbrilliant, and his friends give him the applause of their laughter. One jug succeeds another--mirth abounds--and it is not till Mrs Hyslophas declared that they are going beyond all bounds, and she positivelywill not give them another drop of hot water, that our bard at lengthbethinks him of returning home, where Bonnie Jean has been lost inpeaceful slumber for three hours, after vainly wondering "what can bekeeping Robert out so late the nicht. " Burns gets to bed a littleexcited and worn out, but not in a state to provoke much remark fromhis amiable partner, in whom nothing can abate the veneration withwhich she has all along regarded him. And though he beds at a latishhour, most likely he is up next morning between seven and eight, tohear little Robert his day's lesson in _Cæsar_, or, if the seasoninvites, to take a half-hour's stroll before breakfast along thefavourite Dock Green. '

Whenever a female of any rank secured the goodwill of Burns, he wassure to compliment her in verse, and it was always by putting her intothe light of an adored mistress. In his latter days, when declining inhealth, an amiable young girl, sister of one of his brother officers, obtained his friendly regard by endeavouring to lighten the labours ofhousekeeping to his wife, then also in a delicate state. The lady, whostill lives, 'relates that, one morning she had a call from the poet, when he offered, if she would play him any tune of which she was fond, and for which she desired new verses, to gratify her in her wish tothe best of his ability. She placed herself at the pianoforte, andplayed over several times the air of an old song beginning with thewords--

 The robin cam to the wren's nest, And keekit in, and keekit in: O weel's me on your auld pow! Wad ye be in, wad ye be in? Ye'se ne'er get leave to lie without, And I within, and I within, As lang's I hae an auld clout, To row ye in, to row ye in. 

'As soon as his ear got accustomed to the melody, Burns sat down, andin a very few minutes he produced the beautiful song:

 OH, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST. 

 Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee: Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'. 

 Or were I in the wildest waste, Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, The desert were a paradise, If thou wert there, if thou wert there: Or were I monarch o' the globe, Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, The brightest jewel in my crown Wad be my queen, wad be my queen. 

'The anecdote is a trivial one in itself; but we feel that thecircumstances--the deadly illness of the poet, the beneficent worth ofMiss Lewars, and the reasons for his grateful desire of obligingher--give it a value. It is curious, and something more, to connect itwith the subsequent musical fate of the song, for many years after, when Burns had become a star in memory's galaxy, and Jessy Lewars wasspending her quiet years of widowhood over her book or her knitting ina little parlour in Maxwelltown, the verses attracted the regard ofFelix Mendelssohn, who seems to have divined the peculiar feelingbeyond all common love which Burns breathed through them. By thatadmirable artist, so like our great bard in a too early death, theywere married to an air of exquisite pathos, "such as the meeting soulmay pierce. " Burns, Jessy Lewars, Felix Mendelssohn--genius, goodness, and tragic melancholy, all combined in one solemn and profoundlyaffecting association!'

In numberless instances, the hitherto loosely stated facts of Burns'slife are corrected in the present work, partly through the accuracy ofa strictly historical arrangement, and partly by direct reference towritten documents. On account of the value of dates in placing thefacts and compositions in that order which gives so much illustrationto the character of the poet, the editor has taken what might appearin other circumstances a pedantic degree of pains on that score. Ofthis we have an example in regard to the chronology of Burns'sattachment to Highland Mary. To fix that affair as occurring in thesummer of 1786--an episode in the connection of the poet with theyoung woman who ultimately became his wife--it is necessary toestablish the death of Mary as occurring about the 20th of Octoberthat year. This is done partly by reference to a register of burialsites in a church-yard, and partly by a chain of curious evidencerespecting the day which Burns celebrated three years after as theanniversary of the event. He composed on that day his beautifuladdress _To Mary in Heaven_, beginning--

 Thou lingering star with lessening ray, That lov'st to greet the early morn, &c. 

Mrs Burns had a recollection of the day, which, she said, was inSeptember, at the end of harvest, and which, she added, he spent inhis usual duties, though labouring under a cold. As the twilightdeepened, he grew sad about something, and wandered out into thebarn-yard, to which she followed him, entreating him in vain toobserve that frost had set in, and to return to the fireside. Shefinally found him there stretched on a mass of straw, with his eyesfixed on a beautiful planet, which shone like another moon. He wasengaged at that moment in apostrophising the soul of Mary. Out of thisanecdote, the editor of the present work contrives to obtain evidenceas to the true date in the following manner:--

'In the first place, the harvest was late that year. We find in theScottish newspapers of the time, that, in the middle of October, agreat deal of grain was still _out_ even in the favoured districtaround Falkirk; while a letter from Sanquhar (Burns's neighbourhood), dated the 21st, states that "while much was cut, _very little was yetgot in_, owing to the bad weather. " It appears that harvest wascommenced by the 8th of September in some districts, but wasinterrupted by rains, and was not concluded till near the end of theensuing month. Consequently, the incident _might_ take place in thelatter part of October, and _still be connected with harvestoperations_. The second portion of our evidence on the subject is fromone of the exact sciences, and appears to us at once to settle thetime of the day--the month--and almost the day of the month. 

'It fully appears that the planet Venus is the one referred to by thepoet, for the description applies only to it. Now Venus was inconjunction with the sun, May 30, 1789, and after that became visibleas the _evening-star_ towards the end of the summer, reaching itsgreatest brilliancy in winter. It is therefore certain that the starwhich "loves to greet the early morn" did not at this time "usher inthe day, " and consequently, so far as the time of day alluded to inthe poem is concerned, a poetical liberty was taken with truth. On the21st of September the sun set at six o'clock, and Venus forty-fourminutes thereafter. The planet was consequently not to be seen at thattime except faintly in the twilight. But on the 21st of October thesun set in the latitude of Ellisland at 4h 53m, and Venus 1h 3mafterwards. Consequently, Venus would then have begun to assume abrilliant appearance during a short interval after sunset. On that daythe moon was four days old, and within eight diameters of Venus. Theplanet would then of course be beginning to be dimmed by themoonlight, and this effect would go on increasing till the moon hadpassed the full--that is, early in November. If, then, we are to setaside the possibility of a later month than October, and keeping inview the all but certainty that Mary was not buried till some timeafter the 12th of that month, it seems reasonable to conclude, thatthe barn-yard musings of Burns took place between five and six o'clockof the evening of some day about the 19th or 20th of October, andconsequently a very short time after the merry-meeting for theWhistle-contest at Friars' Carse. 

'That a month later than October could have been the date of theincident will, I presume, scarcely be argued for. The moon was at thefull on Tuesday the 2d of November, and it could not be till afterthat day that the first hour of the night would be "starry, " withVenus in full blaze. By that time, as far as we can gather from thechronicles of the time, the harvest was past. Besides, Mrs Burns mighteasily mistake September for October, but scarcely for November, amonth of such different associations. On this point the temperature ofthe time might throw some light, if we could be sure of the exactmeaning to be attached to the phrase--"the frost had set in. " Itchances that the temperature of October that year was unusually high, the average at eight o'clock in the evening in Edinburgh being 45-1/2°Fahrenheit. The _Edinburgh Advertiser_ of 30th October speaks ofapple-trees and bean-stalks renewing their blossoms in consequence ofthe extraordinary mildness. On the 19th of October, at eight o'clockin the evening, the thermometer indicated in Edinburgh 51°; on the20th, at the same hour, 59°; on the 21st, 51° again. The only approachto frost was on the 30th and 31st, when, at eight in the evening, thethermometer was respectively at 33° and 37°. After this, it rose to amore temperate point. Hence it becomes evident that _literal frost_did not then exist at any such period of the day. Probably Mrs Burnsmerely thought the evening was beginning to be comparatively chilly. If we can admit of this construction being put upon her words, I wouldbe disposed to pitch upon the _warmest evening_ of the little periodwithin which we are confined--for unless the poet had been in apeculiarly excited state, so as to be insensible to externalcircumstances, which is obviously a different thing from being in amerely pensive state, we must suppose him as not likely to lie down inthe open air after sunset, except under favour of some uncommon amountof "ethereal mildness. " Seeing, on the other hand, how positivelyinviting to such a procedure would be a temperature of 59°, I leavethe subject with scarcely a doubt that the composition of _To Mary inHeaven_ took place on Tuesday the 20th of October, and that this wasconsequently the date of the death of the heroine. '

This, no doubt, seems a great muster of evidence about so small amatter; but to judge of the rationality of its being entered upon, thereader must keep in mind the relation of the incident to others. If itonly proved that the comic drinking-song _The Whistle_, and _To Maryin Heaven_, were written within three days of each other, it might benot altogether labour lost, for it would establish an exceedinglycurious literary anecdote. But the bearing it has on the whole affairof Highland Mary--one of the most deeply interesting passages ofBurns's life--is such as, in our opinion, to make every otherjustification superfluous. 

FOOTNOTES:

[2] _Life and Works of Burns. _ Edited by Robert Chambers. 4 vols. Edinburgh: 1852. 

VISIT TO THE COPPER-WORKS OF SWANSEA. 

Our first glimpse of the copper-works was obtained in the 'gloaming'of a lovely night in August last year, as we rattled over the Landoreviaduct of the South Wales Railway. On each side of us, we couldbehold, given out by the chimneys, innumerable flashes of lurid flame, which rose like meteors into the atmosphere, and scattered around abrilliant light, that was seen in the distance to blend with thewaters of Swansea Bay. The scene was very beautiful, and singularlypicturesque: we could have wished our enjoyment of it prolonged; butsoon the shrill whistle, the escape-valve, and the lamps of thestation, admonished us that our journey had come to an end. 

Our principal object in visiting Swansea, was to obtain someinformation concerning the important business of copper-smelting, forwhich this port has now become so celebrated. Few of our readers, whohave not enjoyed our opportunities of seeing them, can form anyaccurate conception of the vast extent and great economical value andimportance of the Swansea copper-works. Indeed, the copper trade isfar from being popularly known; and the reason is obvious. Iron, whichis very widely distributed in the British islands, is invariablysmelted wherever it occurs. Copper, on the contrary, is only mined inone or two localities; and it is never manufactured on the spot. Thisprocess is performed almost exclusively at Swansea; and hence thecopper trade of the country is confined to a few individual houses, and these are in a locality alike remote and unfrequented by theeveryday tourist. 

At the period when the first copper-work was established on the banksof the Tawy, about a century ago, Swansea was comparatively aninsignificant village. It is therefore to this branch of industry thetown and port are chiefly indebted for their remarkable rise andprogress. The population in 1801 was only about 6000; while in 1851, if we include the copper-smelting district, it had already reached thenumber of 40, 000. The original cause of Swansea being selected as thegreat seat of the copper trade, we may very briefly explain. It wasearly discovered that, from the non-existence of coal in the miningdistricts of Cornwall and Devonshire, copper, although raised in vastabundance, could not be profitably smelted there. In fact, it was notuntil a considerable time after copper-mining was properly pursued inCornwall, that the minerals could be turned to a profitable account. It became apparent at length, however, both from the large quantity ofcoal necessary for the reduction of copper-ores, and the great expenseof the transport, that instead of carrying coal to Cornwall to smeltthe ores--the greater quantity to the less--an opposite course must bepursued, and the ores carried to the coal districts, and theresmelted. 

Now South Wales, poor in copper, is exceedingly rich in coal. Vastbeds of the finest bituminous and anthracite coal exist in richprofusion in its inexhaustible coal-fields. From its geographicalposition and excellent harbour, Swansea was at once selected as thebest port on the Welsh coast in which to establish the copper-works;and accordingly, the Swansea valley was soon planted with chimneys, furnaces, roasters, refiners, and, in short, all the necessary andcostly enginery which belongs to the vast and intricate processes ofsmelting copper. With such propriety has the selection of a localitybeen made, that even now, out of the twenty copper-smelting works ofwhich the country can boast, seventeen are situated on the navigablerivers of Swansea and its neighbourhood. 

But this was not the only advantage the Cornish miners derived fromthis judicious step. The ships employed to transport the ore to SouthWales came back laden with coal to feed their enormous engines; andthus a system of traffic, mutually advantageous, was originated, andhas continued to exist without interruption down to the present time, and will continue to exist so long as copper is mined in Cornwall andsmelted at Swansea. [3]

Within the last twenty years, the importation of foreign ores hasbecome a remarkable feature in the trade and commerce of this place. Not only is Swansea the seat of the copper trade of this country, butit may with equal propriety be styled the copper mart of the world. Large and valuable cargoes of ore are continually arriving at theSwansea Docks from every country in the world where copper-mining ispursued. In 1814, there were only four vessels which traded withforeign ports; in 1849, this number had increased to 771; the greaterproportion of them being directly engaged in the copper trade. 

The Cornish ores are sold, as we have seen, in the locality in whichthey are produced; but all these foreign ores, from whatever quarterthey may come, are disposed of to the smelters in Swansea by publicticketing. This ticketing is a curious and characteristic feature ofthe trade. The cargoes are usually consigned to a particular class ofbrokers, indigenous to Swansea, and known as 'copper-ore agents. ' Theore is by them deposited in large yards, where it is crushed to acertain fineness, for the purpose of obtaining a proper admixture ofthe 'heap. ' Notice is then given to the different smelting-houses, whoprocure samples of the lot, and assay it. Meetings are held once afortnight at the Mackworth Arms Hotel; and on these days the agentsfor the ore and those for the smelter take their seats around a table. A chairman is appointed, who announces the different lots for sale. Having previously made up their minds what to offer--for there isnothing like a saleroom competition--the smelters hand up a foldedslip to the chairman, who announces the highest offer and thepurchaser's name. With such expedition does this proceed, thatdifferent cargoes of copper-ore, to the value perhaps of L. 50, 000, will often be quietly disposed of in a single hour!

It is very remarkable how closely each offer approximates to theintrinsic value of the ore. A lot of Chili or Australian ore, containing a large quantity of metal, may bring L. 50 per ton, while atthe same time a poor ore may be sold for a tenth part of the money. But however variable the offers may be in this respect, they nevervary much in regard to a single lot. Out of the return of the twentyassayers of the different smelters, probably not a half per cent. Ofdifference will be found in their estimates of the produce. Thesmelters having thus become possessed of the ore, it is transferred totheir own yards, sometimes by means of lighters on the river, but morefrequently by the canal which communicates with Swansea and thesmelting-works. 

Leaving the town, and pursuing our way northwards for two milestowards Neath, we reach the copper-works. The scene is widelydifferent in open day from that which was presented at night. There isno beauty now, and little of the picturesque. The first impression, indeed, the mind is apt to receive, is that of a sense of painfulweariness. Hundreds of chimneys--we speak literally--are vomitingforth that white, peculiar-looking, and unmistakable vapour calledcopper-smoke. Enormous masses of that ugly, black, silicious refuse, known in the smelting vocabulary as 'slag, ' is piled above and aroundin such quantity as to change even the physical appearance of thecountry. 

But this is not all. The noxious gases--which we see and feel aroundus--evolved in the reduction of copper, have not played so long on thesurrounding atmosphere without doing their work. Everywhere withintheir influence, the perennial vegetation is meagre and stinted. Thehills, particularly to the southeast of the copper-works, are barrenin the extreme. Not one spark of green, not one solitary lichen, canwithstand the ravages of the poison. Time was, we were told by an oldinhabitant, when these hills produced the earliest and finest corn inthe principality; but now they only resemble enormous piles of sandygravel, unbroken but by the rugged angles on the face of the rock. Inthe year 1822, the inhabitants of Swansea took legal steps to abatethe nuisance. A reward of L. 1000 was likewise offered for thediscovery of a successful means of neutralising the effect of thevapour. The Messrs Vivian of the Hafod Works spent the princely sum ofL. 14, 000 in experiments, some of which were partially successful, andare still adopted; but after all, it must be confessed that the fumesof sulphurous acid, and of numerous other acids alike poisonous intheir character, still taint the atmosphere of the Swansea valley, andstill leave the indelible traces of their blasting properties. 

The Hafod Works are the largest in South Wales. Situated on the northside of the river, they cover a superficial extent of about twentyacres. The number of furnaces, chimneys, and other brick erectionscontained in the works, was far beyond our computation; and we canspeak feelingly of the devious ways and labyrinth of bypaths withwhich they are intersected, since, on more than one occasion, webecame bewildered in their mazes. 

Here was a group of workmen, half-naked, pouring out of a furnace theliquid copper at a white heat; there was another group with a red-hotcopper-plate of colossal weight and dimensions, which they crushedlike cheese between the huge rollers of the copper-mill: on one hand, there was an old furnace, that had done good duty in times past, inthe process of being dismantled; on the other, was one about beingrebuilt; and again there was still another, that had, from longservice, become so impregnated with copper, that it was actually beingbuilt over by a larger one, to be melted in its turn!

We shall avail ourselves of the valuable services of Mr Morgan, themanager for Messrs Vivian, in our walks round the works, although itis not our intention to give a technical description ofcopper-smelting. [4] Such a course would be alike uninteresting to thereader and unsatisfactory to ourselves. A consecutive description, however brief, of what we saw, would, in like manner, carry us farbeyond our limits; and we therefore purposely confine ourselves towhatever is popularly interesting and instructive in the process. 

First in order, then, we proceed to the ore-yard, which presents avery motley appearance. Under its capacious roof there were tons upontons of every variety of ore--native and foreign, blue and red, greenand yellow, and all intermediate colours--indiscriminately piledaround. There was the beautiful green malachite from Australia, thegray sulphuret from Algiers, the phosphate from Chili, and thehydrous-carbonate from Spain. There was the glistening yellowsulphuret from Cuba, the silicate from Brazil, the bright-bluecarbonate from the sunny regions of the south, and the dark-brownoxide from the colder regions of the north. There was regulus from NewZealand, and the good old pyrites from the Cornish mines; somecompounds with arsenic, antimony, and numerous other substances; andlast, though in one sense not least, there was a solitary specimen ofore from Ireland. 

These ores were all in the form of a coarse powder. The regulus wehave mentioned is simply the sulphuret deprived, by a preliminaryoperation, of its extraneous earthy matters; and this is frequentlyeffected in the localities where it is produced, such as New Zealandand Chili, the expense of transport from these places being veryconsiderable. 

'And what is this?' we inquired, looking at a black earthy substancethe workmen at that moment were discharging from a vessel. 

'Ah!' said our friend, 'that is a commodity which, I suspect, you knowsomething about. It is a waste product from certain foundries andchemical works--from Scotland in this case--and it contains a smallper cent. Of copper. We don't care much about it; we seldom have it;but it is sold at the ticketings regularly. For want of a better name, we term it _slag_; but it is not slag, properly so called, which yousee all around you. A better denomination is that employed indesignating it in the Journal--namely, _rubbish_. '[5]

'You make no kind of distinction in the ore-yard, ' we continued. 'Isthat unnecessary?'

'Well, practically it is. As these heaps lie, you can perceive that avertical slice from top to bottom will give us a tolerably evenadmixture of the different ores. This is always desirable to a certainextent, since the ores being of different constitution, the onematerially assists in the reduction of the other. Thus an orecontaining a large proportion of fluor-spar may with great advantagebe employed to flux another containing felspar or quartz, whichsubstances are almost infusible alone. Indeed, the judicious admixtureof ores constitutes the most important vocation of the smelter; and itis to this that the copper-houses of Swansea are indebted for one oftheir advantages over the proprietors of mines, who, possessing onlyone kind of ore--rich, probably, but intractable--can never bring itinto the state of a metal with any satisfactory profit. '

'What is the value of these ores?'

'That varies much. This gray sulphuret contains about 70 per cent. Ofcopper, and is worth L. 35 per ton. This yellow sulphuret, from beingmixed with a large quantity of iron and silicious earth, contains onlyabout 12 or 14 per cent. Some malachites contain so much as 50 percent. , and others less pure, 30 to 40 per cent. Of copper. But thegreater mass of the ores we melt have a far less produce than this. That Cornish ore you see there, for example, contains only 4-1/2 percent. Of metal. The average produce, however, of all the British andforeign ores smelted at Swansea may be given at about 12 per cent. Previous to the great increase of foreign importation, it was muchlower. '

We now come to the process of smelting. The theory of reducingmetallic ores, of whatever constitution, is to bring them to the stateof oxides; and then, by the addition of charcoal, and with the aid ofheat, to expel the oxygen in the form of carbonic acid; after whichthe pure metal is left. In practice, the reduction of copper-ores isslightly different. Here the object is to separate, first, the earthymatters and extraneous metals, by forming them into oxides bycalcination: these are subsequently obtained as waste products in theform of slag; while the copper is left in combination with sulphur, which is then dispelled at one operation. According to Mr Vivian, copper undergoes eight, and sometimes nine, distinct operations in itsprogress from the ore to the ingot; and these consist of alternatecalcinations and fusions, extending over a period of from 100 to 120hours. As, however, some of these are simple repetitions, we may, forconvenience' sake, illustrate the process under its three mostimportant steps. 

1. _Calcination of the Ore. _--Having arranged a proper mixture of oresin the yard, it is weighed out in boxes to the calcining-men. This isdrawn up an inclined plane over the tops of the furnaces, and fromthence emptied through hoppers, 3-1/2 to 4-1/2 tons at a time, intothe large calcining furnace. Here it is roasted for a period rangingfrom twelve to twenty-four hours, after which it is drawn into theash-pit, where it remains to cool. In this state, the ore is a black, amorphous substance, and is termed _calcined ore_. The object of thisprocess is to oxidise the extraneous metals, and also to reduce thequantity of sulphur, by driving it off in the form of vapour. It is, therefore, in this and the analogous processes of roasting, that thesulphurous and arsenous vapours are so profusely given off. 

We stood upon one occasion beside a furnace, when the charge was inthe act of being withdrawn; but we took especial care never to do thelike again. The sensation resembled what one might expect to feel onholding a lighted lucifer-match under each nostril. It is surprisinghow the workmen stand it. For the greater part of their lives, thesepoor Welshmen exist habitually in an atmosphere so charged with theabove-mentioned abominable gases, that it is difficult to understandfrom whence their lungs receive the necessary supply of pureoxygen. [6] Sulphurous acid, we may add, is the predominant smell in acopper-work; but arsenic acid, hydrofluoric acid, and evenarseniuretted hydrogen, are not at all unfrequent. 

2. _Melting the Calcined Ore. _--This is a totally different operationfrom the last: in place of roasting, it is one of fusion. The calcinedore is put into the furnace much in the same manner as before; aquantity of the slag from a subsequent process is added to assist inthe fusion, and the heat is increased till the whole mass becomesliquid. The object is to separate the earthy matter, which, from beingspecifically lighter, rises to the surface of the liquid mass in theform of slag, and is drawn off. After two or three charges, thefurnace becomes quite filled, and an aperture is then opened in it, through which the red-hot liquid flows into an adjoining pit filledwith water. It is by this means granulated, and is now termed 'coarsemetal, ' or 'regulus;' and is, in fact, an admixture of the sulphuretsof iron and copper, containing about 30 per cent. Of the latter. 

But it is to the earthy impurities here given off that we especiallywish to direct attention. This slag, as it is termed, when drawn fromthe furnace, is run into oblong sand-moulds, from which, when cold, itis taken outside to the 'slag-bank, ' as it is called--'slag-mountain, 'we prefer saying; and an ugly mountain it is!--where it is broken intosmall pieces, examined to see whether it still contains metal, and ifnot, is left to accumulate. It consists essentially of silicon, oxygen, iron; or, to speak more correctly, it is a silicate of theprotoxide of iron. It is, in fact, a true _igneous rock_. Portions ofquartz and silica still remaining unfused, are often contained in themasses, which give to them, when broken, a true porphyriticappearance, while, from the great preponderance of the protoxide ofiron, it is invariably black. 

So hard, solid, and indurated do these slags, in process of time, become, that a very tall chimney, the most conspicuous object in theworks, is built on the top of a slag-bank. And this beautifulcommodity is not without its use in the arts. Part of it isoccasionally cast into iron moulds, shaped like old Gothic arches, only uglier; and the casts are applied in great quantity ascoping-stones to the walls and fences in the regions of thecopper-works. Although not a very tasteful, it is yet a very useful, and, at the same time, a very characteristic application. We may addhere, that the aggregate produce of the substance of the differentSwansea works may be estimated at about 260, 000 tons a year. Ourreaders may judge for themselves of the ultimate change this iscalculated to bring about in the Carboniferous System, and of thelearned controversies that are likely to arise among future geologistswith respect to the character and constitution of these carefullydisintegrated rocks!

To return to the smelting process. The last product--the regulus--isagain calcined, with the view of bringing the iron to the state of anoxide. It is again melted, slagged, and run into pigs. In this lastoperation, the whole iron is driven out in the slag, and theremainder--'white metal, ' as it is called--is almost a pure sulphuretof copper. The sulphur, having all along preserved its combinationwith the copper--a fine illustration of the theory of chemicalattraction--must now at length be expelled. This is effected by thelast process of roasting. When in a state of fusion in the furnace, the charge is exposed to a stream of air, in which case a doubleaction ensues. Part of the oxygen enters into combination with thesulphur, producing sulphurous acid, which is expelled in the form ofvapour, and part of it combines with the copper remaining in thefurnace; this is again run out into the form of pigs, and in thisstate it is termed 'blistered copper. ' To produce the finer kind ofcopper, another process has yet to be gone through; but for ordinary_tough copper_, it is at once transferred to what we may describe asthe last stage, and that is--

3. _Refining. _--We quote Mr Vivian:--'The pigs from the roasters arefilled into the furnace through a large door in the side: the heat isat first moderate, so as to complete the roasting or oxidisingprocess; after the charge is run down, and there is a good heat on thefurnace, the front door is taken down, and the slags skimmed off. Anassay is then taken out by the refiner with a small ladle, and brokenin the vice; and from the general appearance of the metal in and outof the furnace, the state of the fire, &c. , he judges whether thetoughening process may be proceeded with, and can form some opinion asto the quantity of _poles_ and charcoal that will be required torender it malleable, or, as it is termed, to bring it to the _properpitch_. The copper in this state is what is termed _dry_: it isbrittle, of a deep-red colour, inclining to purple, an open grain, andcrystalline structure. In the process of toughening, the surface ofthe metal in the furnace is first well covered with charcoal; a pole, commonly of birch, is then held into the liquid metal, which causesconsiderable ebullition, owing to the evolution of gaseous matter; andthis operation of _poling_ is continued, until, from the assays whichthe refiner from time to time takes, he perceives that the grain, which gradually becomes finer, is perfectly closed. ' After somefurther manipulation of a similar kind, the refiner is at lengthsatisfied of its malleability, and that the copper is now in its_proper place_, as he terms it. It is then poured out by means of ironladles, coated with clay, into ingots or moulds of the different sizesrequired by the manufacturer. 

'This process of refining or toughening copper, is a delicateoperation, requiring great care and attention on the part of therefiner to keep the metal in the malleable state. ' It is also, beyondcomparison, the most beautiful sight in the copper-works. At oneparticular stage of the process, we saw the mass of molten copper inthe furnace--some five or six tons--assume the most beautiful andresplendent appearance it was possible to imagine. It was like a seaof 'burnished gold;' and, indeed, were it not for the intense heat, the red-hot ladles of the workmen, and other little circumstances ofthe kind, the stranger would have some difficulty in believing that hedid not look upon a beautifully polished mirror. 

We have now come to the end of the smelting process; and have leftourselves no room to describe the transformation into sheets, bars, bolts, and boilerplates which the metal undergoes in the nextdepartment of the works. These, however, are a better understoodseries of operations, consisting, as they do, of the usual andordinary processes of rolling the hot metal between powerful ironrollers. Nor have we space to allude even to the vastly numerous andvaried applications of the metal; although we may take the opportunityof briefly adverting to the recently discovered process of smeltingcopper by electricity, and of inquiring into the probability of itsever becoming an economical application. 

It will be seen, in the first place, that the present mode of smeltingcopper, though simple in theory, appears in practice extremelycomplex. For this reason, within the last twenty-five years therehave, we believe, been as many patents taken out to simplify andhasten the operation. Without exception, these have been proved to bealtogether inapplicable. Let us see how this is explained. 

Out of these numerous improvements, we select two that appearpeculiarly attractive. The first is the method of precipitating thecopper, in our second process, from the fused silicates containing it, by the action of the electric current--the negative pole of thebattery terminating in an iron plate, which replaces the copper in theliquid mass. The second method is an improvement on this. From someexperiments made at the School of Mines in Paris, it was shewn thatmetallic iron alone, without the aid of the battery, was capable ofprecipitating copper from the silicates in a state of fusion, just asit does in saline solutions at ordinary temperatures. But in applyingthis last method to practice--for the electricity was obviouslyrendered unnecessary by the discovery--it was found that theexpenditure of iron was so great, that it could not be profitablyapplied except as a means of assisting the reduction. 

'Still, ' said Mr Morgan, when commenting on these methods, 'this, inpoint of fact, is precisely what we do. We add, as you have seen, agreat proportion of slag to the melting of the calcined ore, whichconsists chiefly of the oxide of iron; while at the same time wederive the additional advantage of employing an excellent flux--anadvantage which metallic iron does not possess. But, irrespective ofthese considerations, the plain fact of the matter is, that _it willnot pay_ to smelt copper expeditiously. We don't wish to do so. It isquite a matter of choice with us those continued operations; and theirgreat advantage lies in this, that we are enabled to extract everyparticle of copper from the ore. By any of these other methods--veryphilosophical they are, I admit--we could not accomplish this. Theslags would all contain more or less metal; and when I inform you, that we can afford to remelt those slags if they contain only a halfper cent. Of copper, you will perhaps understand our reasons for stilladhering to our venerable system. '

Thus we discovered that the smelting of copper by electricity, and ofreducing it with metallic iron, would not pay. 

Our statistics are short, but they are heavy: about 300, 000 tons ofcopper-ore are annually smelted at Swansea; 28, 000 tons of copper areannually produced; and 600, 000 tons of coal are annually burned. Thevalue of the ore is about L. 2, 000, 000; of the copper, L. 2, 600, 000; ofthe coal, we have no correct means of ascertaining. Of the populationof Swansea, about one-fourth are dependent on the smelting-works; andof these, about 3500 are directly engaged in the business. Theprobable amount of wages paid by the smelters is about L. 135, 000; andthe current expenditure of the copper-works in the aggregate exceedsL. 500, 000 a year. 

The last thing we did was to visit the Hafod Schools. These excellentschools--one for boys, one for girls, and one for infants--wereerected about six years ago, and are still maintained at the expenseof the Messrs Vivian. At the time of our visit, there were 600 of therising population of the place doing their utmost to unlearn the Welshidiom, and to acquire the art of speaking and writing the Englishlanguage with propriety. We regret that we cannot dwell on this themost gratifying circumstance of our visit. Messrs Vivian & Sons areunquestionably great copper-smelters, but, in our humble opinion, thegreatest action they ever did, and what must ever commend them to allgood minds, was the establishment of these schools. 

To us it was a change, a relief inexpressibly delightful, to emergefrom the Stygian regions of the copper-works, where for the last fiveor six days we had wandered like an 'unshriven spirit, ' and to findourselves in contemplation of the happy faces of the scholars, and tohear the hopeful, encouraging tones of their intelligent teachers. Thepopular song of _Children go, to and fro_, was being sung in theinfant school at the moment we took our leave, and we shall neverforget the impression. It struck upon our senses, to use anappropriate metaphor, like the crystal stream of the desert--like theshadow of a great rock in a weary land. 

FOOTNOTES:

[3] See for some interesting information on the system of CornishMining, an article in No. 42 of the present series. 

[4] On this point, we refer all who are desirous of pursuing thesubject, to a valuable memoir in the _Annals of Philosophy_, by JohnHenry Vivian, Esq. , F. R. S. , the proprietor of the Hafod Works. Thispaper, we may add, is the standard authority on the subject; and is, with some modification, copied by Drs Ure and Lardner, and by mostpopular works upon metallurgy. 

[5] The production of this curious substance is explained in anarticle on the 'Value of Rubbish, ' No. 385. 

[6] Notwithstanding this, we were assured by a gentleman connectedwith the copper-works, that there is no specific disease arising fromcopper-smelting, as in the case of lead. Asthma, rheumatism, andcolds, are the prevailing affections among the men; and even these arein a great measure due to their own carelessness. 

THE KING OF YVETOT. 

There are few of our countrymen who have travelled in France but mustfrequently have heard proverbial allusion made to a certain monarch ofYvetot; and still fewer must be those who, having the slightestknowledge of French literature, are unacquainted with Béranger's happylyric--

 There reigned a monarch in Yvetot But little known in story, Who, stranger all to grief and wo, Slept soundly without glory; His night-cap tied by Jenny's care (The only crown this king would wear), He'd snooze! Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! The merry monarch of Yvetot. 

 His jolly court he held each day, 'Neath humble roof of rushes green; And on a donkey riding gay, Through all his kingdom might be seen: A happy soul, and thinking well, His only guard was--sooth to tell-- His dog! Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! The merry monarch of Yvetot. 

 No harsh exacting lord was he, To grasp more than his folks could give; But, mild howe'er a king may be, His majesty, you know, must live; And no man e'er a bumper filled, Until the jovial prince had swilled His share! Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! The merry monarch of Yvetot. 

 He ne'er sought to enlarge his states, But was a neighbour just and kind; A pattern to all potentates, Would they his bright example mind. The only tears he e'er caused fall, Fell when he died--which you'll not call His fault. Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! The merry monarch of Yvetot. 

It is well known that Béranger's song, from which we have extractedthe preceding four verses, as translated by Anderson, was a friendly, though rather satirical remonstrance with Napoleon--of course we mean_the_ Napoleon--touching his ambitious and bellicose policy. But it isnot so well known, that there really was a kingdom of Yvetot, and thatits several dynasties reigned peacefully for upwards of elevencenturies. Anderson, in a note to the song, says: 'Yvetot, a districtin the north of France, possesses a monarch of its own, a sort ofburlesque personage, whose royal charger is a donkey; his guard, adog; his crown, a night-cap; and his revenue, a gratuitous draught of_wine_ at the _ale_ houses of his liege subjects!' Young, anothertranslator of Béranger, not any better informed, tells us that 'theLords of Yvetot claimed and exercised, in the olden time, some suchfantastical privileges as are here alluded to. '

The translators have some excuse for their ignorance regarding theking of Yvetot; for few Frenchmen of the present day, with theexception of antiquaries, consider him to have been anything else thana popular myth. Be it our task, then, to jot down some authenticnotices of that ancient, and now extinct monarchy. 

Yvetot, a town and commune of ancient Normandy (Pays de Caux), in thedepartment of Seine-Inférieure, now traversed by the railway leadingfrom Havre de Grâce to Rouen, was, in the sixth century, the seignioryof one Vauthier, chamberlain to Clotaire I. , the royal son of Clovisand Clotilda. Nothing whatever is known of the earlier part ofVauthier's history, more than that he held the fief of Yvetot fromClotaire by the feudal tenure of military service. An able andtrustworthy statesman in the council-chamber, a valiant and skilfulcommander in the battle-field, the chamberlain lived on terms of themost intimate familiarity with his king, who ever lent a ready ear tohis sage suggestions. This high honour, however, being not at allagreeable to the other followers of the court, they entered into aconspiracy to ruin the favourite chamberlain. Taking advantage of hisabsence, they perfidiously vilified him to the king. The chroniclersdo not state what were the exact charges brought against him, but theymust have been weighty and artfully insinuated, for the rude andtruculent Clotaire swore that he would, with his own hand, slay theSieur of Yvetot, when and wherever he should chance to meet with him. The reader must not be surprised at such a vow: in those days, sovereigns frequently indulged in a plurality of offices, and couldupon occasion perform the duty of the executioner as well as that ofthe judge. Vauthier happened to have a friend at court, who sent himtimely warning of this state of affairs; and not thinking it by anymeans prudent to expose himself to the lethal fury of a king who hadunscrupulously killed his own nephews, he left the country, and joinedthe army of the north, then fighting against the Thuringian pagans, the enemies of Clotaire and his religion, such as it was. 

After ten years of arduous service and heroic exploits, Vauthier, crowned with glory, and hoping that time had mollified the malignantfeelings of the king, turned his face once more towards his nativecountry. But at that period bad passions were not so easily effaced;besides, the accusers of Vauthier were now doubly interested inkeeping him at a distance. The Lord of Yvetot, hearing how mattersstood, to make sure of a favourable reception, proceeded, in the firstinstance, to Rome, where he made a friend of Pope Agapet, who sent himwith letters to Clotaire, in the capacity of an envoy. Under theshield of so sacred a function, Vauthier had no hesitation inrepairing to Soissons, and presenting himself before the king; yet, tobe still more secure, he chose for that occasion the solemnities ofGood Friday--the anniversary of the great day of Christian mercy. Clotaire was at the high altar of the cathedral, celebrating theholiest rites of the church before a crucifix veiled in mourning, whenVauthier made his presence known. Throwing himself on his knees inhumble supplication, he presented the letters of the sovereignpontiff, and implored pardon, if he had been guilty, by the merits ofHim who, on the same day, had so freely shed his blood for thesalvation of all mankind. The ferocious and implacable king recognisedthe suppliant, and, without regard to the sanctity of either the placeor the day, drew his sword, and, with one blow, struck the unfortunatechamberlain dead on the stone pavement, at the very steps of thealtar. 

Violent passions have, generally speaking, rapid revulsions. Scarcelywas Vauthier's body cold, when the king repented his hasty deed. Theclergy read to him the letters from Pope Agapet, which attested theinnocence of his former favourite; and they represented to him, thathe had committed the grossest description of sacrilege, the sin fromwhich the sovereign pontiff alone could absolve. In a short time thebarbarous Clotaire passed from a state of rabid fury to one of themost abject despair, so that he required little persuasion from theclergy ere he sent a messenger to Rome, bearing rich presents, to begfor absolution from the pope. The messenger arrived at Rome just asAgapet was at the point of death; yet the business being urgent, andthe presents valuable, he was ushered into the sick-chamber of thedying head of the Christian church. Supported by attendants, the popeproceeded to pronounce, in a feeble voice, the penitential disciplineof Clotaire. He said that the king could not expect pardon unless hegave the highest possible satisfaction to the heirs of the murderedman: but here a fit of coughing attacked and carried off his holiness, so that whatever penance he intended to inflict was never known. Clotaire, however, determined to expiate his crime, long pondered uponthe meaning of the pope's dying words, and at last concluded that, asthere was nothing higher than a king, the words 'highest satisfaction'meant that he should raise the heir of Vauthier to the royal dignity. Accordingly, he by charter erected the seigniory of Yvetot into akingdom--an act in perfect consonance with the ancient French feudallaw, which enfranchised the family of the vassal from all homage andduty, if his lord laid violent hands upon him. 

From that time until the latter part of the eighteenth century, thedescendants of Vauthier reigned as independent sovereigns of theirlittle kingdom of Yvetot, owing neither tribute, service, norallegiance to any other power. Consequently, until the greatRevolution, which, like the bursting of a pent-up deluge, changed thefeatures of the whole country, the inhabitants of Yvetot paid no taxesto the government of France. 

Historians and jurisconsults have written many grave and learneddissertations on the curious position of this little kingdom shut upin a greater one; and, though they differ in some trifling respects, they all coincide in concluding, that the king of Yvetot, beingindependent of any other potentate, was never obliged to engage inquarrels which did not concern him, and accordingly lived in peacewith his neighbours, whom he never pretended to frighten. Moreover, inspite of courtiers and counsellors, statecraft and politics wereunknown in Yvetot; thus the king remained neuter during the variouswars that raged around him, though he could bring an army of onehundred and twenty royal troops into the field. The seriousness ofthese disquisitions has been occasionally enlivened by a spice ofpleasantry. We are told how the king of Yvetot kept his own seals, andwas his own minister of finance; that his court consisted of abishop, a dean, and four canons, not one of whom ranked higher in thechurch than a parish curé; four notaries, dignified by the title ofjudges, representing the states of the kingdom, formed the senate, andcomposed his majesty's privy-council; four of the best-looking of thetenants' daughters were ladies of the bed-chamber and maids of honourto the queen; four stalwart body-guards attended on all occasions ofceremony--at other times, they worked as agricultural labourers on theroyal farm; a footman performed the duty of chamberlain, and, whennecessary, that of herald; a groom was master of the horse; a gardenersuperintended the woods and forests. This, however, is only atraditionary account of the court of Yvetot; and, lest the readershould think it all a joke, we shall specify some of the documentaryevidence still extant respecting that little kingdom. 

A decree of the Court of Exchequer of Normandy, executed in the year1392, mentions the king of Yvetot; and various letters-patent, grantedby monarchs of France in 1401, 1450, and 1464, acknowledge and confirmthe title. In the early part of the fifteenth century, when Normandywas under English rule, one John Holland, an Englishman, claimed, inthe name of his master Henry VI. , certain taxes and feudal duties fromthe kingdom of Yvetot. Strange to say, in those semi-barbarous days, the case was tried in a court of law, and the issue given againstHolland, the court fully recognising the Lord of Yvetot as anindependent king. A letter of Francis I. , addressed to the queen ofYvetot, is still in existence. In one of the many episodes of the warsof the League, it happened that Henry IV. , compelled to retreat, foundhimself in Yvetot, and determined not to recede further, he cheeredhis troops by jocularly saying: 'If we lose France, we must takepossession of this fair kingdom of Yvetot. ' At the coronation of hissecond wife, Mary de Medici, the same monarch rebuked the grandchamberlain for not assigning to Martin du Belley, then king ofYvetot, a position suitable to his regal dignity. The Belley dynastyreigned in Yvetot for 332 years. The last king of that petty kingdomwas D'Albon St Marcel, who, when at the court of Louis XVI. , modestlyassumed no higher rank than that of a prince. The Revolution, as wehave already intimated, swept away the ancient crown, and the King ofYvetot is now nothing more than the title of a song, with its burden--

 Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho!

RELATIONSHIPS. 

MASTER AND SERVANT. 

The relationship of a master and servant--or, to use the modernphrase, employer and employed--is properly constituted by theagreement of one individual to perform certain duties to another; thatis, instead of being guided solely by his own will, to submit himselfto perform in certain matters the will of another. 

The extent of duty which is embraced in the contract may vary verymuch. It may be only for the performance of one single act, or it maybe for almost the whole range of daily avocations and duties. There isoften a vagueness about the limit of duties, and we often find themaster inclined to exact more than the servant is inclined to give. There are very good reasons why masters should not consider themselvesas having a right to a full command and power over their servants inall things; nay, that in things not within the contract, they shouldbe inclined to admit a certain equality in the two parties. Mastersare too apt to regard themselves as the lords of their servants in allrespects and at all times. They exercise an authority and assume asuperiority in matters beyond the contract. 

On their side, servants often grudgingly perform the duties they haveundertaken. These two causes of discontent produce the worst results. 

The practical remedy seems to be, that masters ought more generally torecognise and act on the principle, that the lordship they bargain foris not of the whole man, but only in certain respects and duties; andthat it is only as regards those duties they can expect their servantto surrender his will to the guidance of his master's: while it shouldbe equally impressed on the servant, that in those respects in whichhe has agreed to submit to and execute the will of his master, thatsubmission and surrender of his will should be absolute, and withoutthe least reserve or limitation. Perfect obedience is a beautifulfulfilment of duty, and defensible on the grounds of common-sense; foras no one can serve two masters--that is, in the performance of anyparticular duty--so no man can both obey his own inclination andsubmit himself to his master's will in the performance of the sameact. 

On moral grounds, it is improper that any one should attempt toexecute in all things the will, of any earthly master; for there is apower, and, in most cases, several powers, superior to both master andservant, to whom both owe duties; and therefore the servant cannotlegally, nor without failure in his higher duties, enter into anycontract which may hinder the performance of those duties. In mattersof the law, it is held that such a contract is not binding; and thus, in the case of a moral law being contravened by a contract, a door ofescape is open to those who have entered into such contract, it beingin opposition to the will of a higher authority. 

When a servant, therefore, is in duty bound to execute the will of hismaster, his obedience should be perfect. All hesitation or murmuringis a violation of his contract--a breaking of his promise andagreement. 

But the master and servant should equally learn, that in otherrespects, and at other times, the parties are not necessarily in thestate of superior and inferior; but, unless from some other cause, areto be regarded as on a footing of equality; and this is the trueinterpretation of the doctrine of fraternity and equality, which has, from not being properly understood, played such wild work among someneighbouring nations. In this sense, however, it is safe and useful. 

Not only, however, may the individuals who sometimes and in somerespects are master and servant, be at other times and in otherrespects regarded as on a level, but they may with propriety, andoften do, change places. The servant becomes of right the master. Forif he should employ that master as his physician or lawyer, no matterwhat may be considered the respective ranks of the parties, thephysician or lawyer must, to perform his duty, become the servant, andsubmit his will in the business he is employed in to that of hisemployer. 

This way of regarding servitude is not a degrading one, but thereverse. Nothing is so pleasant to a reasonable and truly noble mindas to pay obedience to those to whom it is due; and if theadaptability of the same individual to be both master and servant wasmore practically carried out, our civilisation would work moresmoothly, and we should probably approach more to that desirable statein which no one would have a stigma attached to him from his birth oroccupation, but only from the manner in which he performed his duty. 

It would help considerably towards a proper understanding of therelationship between employers and employed, if the employed would, for their own sake, maintain that degree of self-respect which wouldinduce others to respect them. On this point we would speak kindly, yet frankly, and cannot do better than quote a passage from a smalltreatise on Political Economy, just published. [7] 'The truerelationship between employers and employed is that subsistingbetween a purchaser and a seller. The employer buys; the employedsells; and the thing sold is labour. Attaining a clear conviction onthis point, the connection between the two parties is that of mutualindependence. Thrown much together, however, a spirit of courtesy andgood-fellowship ought to temper the intercourse, and it will be thebetter for all parties if this spirit prevails. In some situations, however, there is shewn a disposition on the part of workmen to askfavours of employers--as, for example, seeking to absent themselves onholidays without a corresponding reduction in the amount of wages. This seems to be as wrong as it would be for the employer to ask hisworkmen to labour certain days for nothing. The rights and obligationsare distinctly mutual. One has no right to encroach on the other; and, indeed, there can be no encroachment, no favour asked, on either side, without a certain loss of independence. This feeling of independenceshould be carefully cultivated and preserved, along with those habitsof courtesy which soften the general intercourse of society. '

We are happy to add, that, to all appearance, a great advance in allthese respects has been made within these few years--disagreementsrespecting wages and other circumstances between employers andemployed, being conducted and finally adjusted in a spirit verydifferent from what used to be manifested a quarter of a century ago. 

FOOTNOTES:

[7] _Political Economy_: Chambers's Educational Course. 

THIRST IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS. 

The use of snow when persons are thirsty does not by any means allaythe insatiable desire for water; on the contrary, it appears to beincreased in proportion to the quantity used, and the frequency withwhich it is put into the mouth. For example, a person walking alongfeels intensely thirsty, and he looks to his feet with coveting eyes;but his good sense and firm resolutions are not to be overcome soeasily, and he withdraws the open hand that was to grasp the deliciousmorsel and convey it into his parching mouth. He has several miles ofa journey to accomplish, and his thirst is every moment increasing; heis perspiring profusely, and feels quite hot and oppressed. At lengthhis good resolutions stagger, and he partakes of the smallestparticle, which produces a most exhilarating effect; in less then tenminutes he tastes again and again, always increasing the quantity; andin half an hour he has a gum-stick of condensed snow, which hemasticates with avidity, and replaces with assiduity the moment thatit has melted away. But his thirst is not allayed in the slightestdegree; he is as hot as ever, and still perspires; his mouth is inflames, and he is driven to the necessity of quenching them with snow, which adds fuel to the fire. The melting snow ceases to please thepalate, and it feels like red-hot coals, which, like a fire-eater, heshifts about with his tongue, and swallows without the addition ofsaliva. He is in despair; but habit has taken the place of hisreasoning faculties, and he moves on with languid steps, lamenting thesevere fate which forces him to persist in a practice which in anunguarded moment he allowed to begin. . . . I believe the true cause ofsuch intense thirst is the extreme dryness of the air when thetemperature is low. --_Sutherland's Journal. _

AN AUSTRALIAN MISS. 

The precocity of the Australian youth, to be properly understood andbelieved, can only be fully appreciated by being an eye-witness tosome of these very extraordinary young creatures. I have seen a girlof ten years of age possess all the manner of an old lady of sixty:she would flirt with three men at a time, and have a ready answer forthem when teasing her; would move like an accomplished actress, manipulate gracefully, play whist, chess, and other games, and talkabout getting married. This child, for such I must call her, was agreater mental giant than O'Brien, with his moving mountain of flesh, and far more entertaining than twenty Tom Thumbs. --_Shaw's Tramp tothe Diggings. _

THE DAY OF REST. 

 Rest, rest! it is the Day of Rest--there needs no book to tell The truth that every thoughtful eye, each heart can read so well; Rest, rest! it is the Sabbath morn, a quiet fills the air, Whose whispered voice of peace repeats that rest is everywhere. 

 O weary heart! O heart of wo! raise up thy toil-worn brow; The fields, the trees, the very breeze--they all are resting now: The air is still, there is no sound, save that unceasing hum, That insect song of summer-time that from the woods doth come. 

 And even that seems fainter now, like voices far away, As though they only sang of rest, and laboured not to-day; The hum of bees seems softer, too, from out the clear blue heaven, As if the lowliest creatures knew this day for rest was given. 

 The spacious tracts of meadow-land, of bean-fields, and of wheat, And all the glebe, are undisturbed by sound of Labour's feet; The cotter in his Sunday garb, with peace within his breast, Roams idly by the garden-side, and feels himself at rest. 

 The streams, the trees, the woods, the breeze, the bird, and roving bee, Seem all to breathe a softer sound, a holier melody; Yon little church, too, tells of rest, to all the summer air, For the bell long since has ceased to peal that called to praise and prayer. 

 But while I stand 'mid these tall elms, a sound comes creeping near, That falls like music heard in dreams upon my charmèd ear; Like music heard in dreams of heaven, that sacred sound doth steal From where the old church aisles repeat the organ's solemn peal. 

 Now Heaven be praised! a gracious boon is this sweet rest to me-- How many shall this truth repeat to-day on bended knee! How many a weary heart it cheers, how many an aching breast: Now Heaven be praised, a gracious boon is this sweet Day of Rest!

 PICTOR. 

 TORQUAY. 

'THE BIRKBECK MAGAZINE. '

Some numbers have been sent to us of a cheap London periodical withthis title. Its peculiarity is, that the promoters and contributorsare young men, members of the Mechanics' Institution, SouthamptonBuildings, who intend throwing open their columns to unknown writersconnected in a similar way with the other Mutual ImprovementSocieties. A considerable circulation might be secured by this plan;and perhaps such a work may be as well calculated to elevate theaspirations, and excite wholesome emulation, as the productions ofmore practised pens. 

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