by rapid pedestrians of all ages, but chiefly by young men and women, eager to see the sight. Hundreds and thousands of people were astir in every quarter of the metropolis, many of them expressing the regret so common to the Londoners, that the conflagration was not in the immediate vicinity, that they might enjoy the excitement and the luxury of looking at it; and, to do them justice, the still greater luxury and excitement of aiding to put it out. All the night long the firemen were on the alert, buckling on their helmets, preparing their hose,' and driving, as on an errand of life or death, through the stony highways of the capital. All the night long, however, there was a most provoking indistinctness of intelligence as to the precise locality of the enemy which they were to combat. Meantime the sky grew redder and redder, as if suffused with the hazy glow of a burning city forty miles off, and not with the reflection of any smaller conflagration at a relish, though, to my thinking, not a very great luxury, being coarse and strong. Mixed with potatoes, however, like " porpoise balls," they answer very well for variety. A good appetite makes almost any kind of food palatable. I have eaten whale-flesh at sea with as much relish as I ever ate roast-beef ashore. A tryingout scene has something peculiarly wild and savage in it-a kind of indescribable uncouthness, which renders it difficut to describe with anything like accuracy. There is a murderous appearance about the bloodstained decks, and the huge masses of flesh and blubber lying here and there, and a ferocity in the looks of the men, heightened by the red, fierce glare of the fires, which inspire in the mind of the novice feelings of mingled disgust and awe. But one soon becomes accustomed to such scenes, and regards them with the indifference of a veteran in the field of battle. I know of nothing to which this part of the whaling business can be more appropriately compared than to Dante's pic-nearer distance. Spiral shoots, as of immense volumes tures of the infernal regions. It requires but little stretch of the imagination to suppose the smoke, the hissing boilers, the savage-looking crew, and the waves of flame that burst now and then from the flues of the furnace, part of the paraphernalia of a scene in the lower regions.' of sparks, were projected on the azure forehead of the sky; and at each deepening of the colour a shudder ran through the multitude, and women whispered to women their earnest hopes that no human creatures, no mothers and young children, were at these moments perishing in the flames. Sometimes the reflection grew fainter, The book from which the foregoing passages are and then a hope spread through the multitude that the taken, affords another instance of the adventurous worst was over, that the danger was past, that the spirit prevalent among the inhabitants of the United fire had burned itself out, or that the engines had sucStates. Such instances are not rare in American lite- cessfully battled with the destroyer. Ultimately the rature. Mr Browne's work will not be the least valu- reflection grew paler and paler still, and flickered away able if he should succeed in causing some restraint to to nothing. The people retired to their beds, and conbe placed on the unbridled tyranny of the whaling cap-soled themselves with the idea that they should know tains, of which his volume contains several examples. all the particulars of the fearful damage, and slake Many lives are annually sacrificed, and many a brave their burning' curiosity, in the newspapers of the next fellow's spirit crushed for ever, from this cause alone. morning. There is no class of whale-men, as in this country; and many young men are inveigled into the service under delusive promises, who, at the expiry of their three years' cruise, find themselves penniless from the rapacious knavery which has beset them at their outfit, and during the whole voyage. It is to be hoped that the American authorities, for their own sakes, will no longer neglect a class on whose industry so great a portion of their commerce depends. cry. PUTTING OUT THE AURORA. ANY one who has lived long in London, and who has paid ordinary attention to the passing occurrences of the hour, must have been startled more than once by the cry of Fire!' and the almost simultaneous rattle and rumble of the engines consequent upon it. We have often, during our residence in the great capital, left our books and our comfortable chimney corner to observe not merely the fire, and the sublime spectacle which a large one invariably offers, but the behaviour of the crowd, and to listen to the conversation of those whose curiosity was excited. Upon one occasion, in particular, we felt more than ordinary interest in the We heard 'Fire!-fire!' shouted by numerous voices; and turning out into the street in a cold night of December, saw the people gathering at their doors, or looking out of their windows, and the ragged urchins, that always swarm in great cities, rushing towards the supposed scene of the conflagration. The sky was red as with fire. Each man asked his neighbour where the mischief was. 'It is at Blackheath,' said one: it must be there, or at Lee, or Lenisham, or Bromles-the glow is clearly in that direction.' 'Perhaps it is at Greenwich,' said a second. It is undoubtedly in the vicinity of Greenwich,' chimed in a third. 'It is very awful,' said a fourth. There go a lot of boys after the engines,' said a fifth; they can tell us where the fire is.' A boy being seized hold of by the last speaker, he was asked where the engines were going to. 'Down the Kent road somewhere,' said he; the flames are in that direction. And all the crowd looked, and so they were. Engine rattled after engine, followed at short intervals The newspapers of the next morning did not, however, afford the information desired. They had no accounts in large letters, or any letters, of the conflagration; and either those ready purveyors of intelligence were for once in arrear with a matter of public notoriety, or would announce it in the course of the morning, and give it all the importance desirable from a second or third edition; or there had been a mistake altogether, and the supposed fire was no fire at all. The latter supposition ultimately proved to be the correct one. The people had been deceived. The reflection in the sky proceeded from a brilliant aurora borealis. The firemen had had their labour in vain, and had returned home long ere morning with the full conviction of the delusion of which they had been the victims. The incident reminded us that men in all ages had made similar mistakes in the moral world, and that this street occurrence might stand as a type and symbol of the oft-repeated efforts of ignorant men to destroy a glory which they did not understand-to quench the light of heaven upon the apprehension that it proceeded from a fire of the earth, and was of the earth, earthy; and to wage a finite war with the splendours of the Infinity. A great fireman of this class was Melitus, the son of Melitus, of the borough of Pitthos.' He declared upon oath to the people of Athens that 'Socrates, son of Sophroniscus, of the borough of Alopece, was guilty of not believing in the gods which the state believed in, and of introducing other new divinities; that he was guilty, moreover, of corrupting the young, and demanded against him the penalty of death.' The people of Athens believed that this fire of heaven in the soul of Socrates was a mortal and earthly fire that would damage their city. They listened, therefore, to the cry of Melitus, the son of Melitus, of the borough of Pitthos;' they extinguished the life-light in the frail tenement of an old man's body, and found, when they had done so, that there was an aurora still shining-an aurora of truth, which their puny efforts could not extinguish from heaven or from earth. They, like the Londoners, had attempted to put out the aurora.' When the Jews and the Romans, in the early ages of Christianity, and the Inquisition at a later period, sought by the cross, the rack, the stake, the boiling caldron, the thumb-screw, and the gibbet, to destroy Christianity in the persons of its most illustrious teachers, they made the same mistake. They imagined the light of heaven to be an incendiary fire; they strove to direct their powers of extinction against it: they brought out their terrible engines, they traversed the earth in search of the spreading flames, that they might annihilate them. All in vain. The glow was a glow in the Infinitude; the glory was from above, and all their efforts were unable to obscure it. They could not quench the aurora. One more instance will suffice. Friar Bacon, the greatest scholar of his age and nation, was too wise for his time. His light shone too brilliantly before men. It was thought to be the light of hell, and not of heaven -a fire to be extinguished with as much promptitude as possible, for the safety of the people. He was put into prison for being wise. He was cut off from his friends, his studies, his books, and subjected to such cruel privations, that he was often on the point of perishing with hunger. He procured his liberty by chance, enjoyed it for a few years, and was again, at the age of sixty-four, put into a dungeon, where he remained for ten years. They could not extinguish his light, however. It shines even yet. They could not put out the aurora. There is no necessity for citing the stories of Galileo, Harvey, Jenner, and scores of others equally appropriate. In all these cases the light was an alien light to the people. They saw it shining; but not understanding it, they thought it could not be good; and not being good, that they were called upon to aid in the work of its extinction. But in each case it was too heavenly for them-it was beyond the reach of their water-pipes; and the ignorant brigades' bestowed their trouble in vain, in consequence of not being able to distinguish the difference between a chimney on fire and the splendours of the aurora. The same causes are still in operation. Let us take care that by no fault of ours we run on any such foolish errands. If we see a great light upon the horizon, do not let us hastily conclude that because it has recently appeared-because it was not there when we last looked -because we do not understand it-that it must of necessity be a light of mischief-the reflection of a conflagration-the result of incendiarism-a thing born of evil, and spreading evil-or that we are called upon, as good citizens, to aid in its extinction. Let us be convinced, before we move in the matter, that it is not an aurora, and thereby save our zeal for the more profitable occasion when there may be a real fire in our own street; and when our own house, or that of our neighbour, may be in danger of destruction. THE RATS OF THE CHÂTELET. TILL the period of the Revolution, Paris possessed an ancient prison, more like a fortress than a jail, called the Grand Châtelet. This old structure was situated on one of the quays facing the Rue St Denis, and was of imposing height and appearance. In the course of the terrible doings of 1792, the Châtelet ceased to be used as a prison, and was partly demolished. The remainder, as national property, was sold to a private individual, in whose hands it remained till 1813, when the whole was cleared away to enlarge the adjoining square. On taking possession of the edifice, the private proprietor just mentioned found that he was by no means to be the sole tenant of the building. The dungeons, vaults, and many passages above and below the ground were discovered to be in possession of rats, to an extent beyond all power of calculation. In vain had the accesses to the lower caverns been built up, and other means adopted to free the upper apartments from the intrusion of these visitors: the family, on taking pos session, beheld, to their dismay, whole legions of rats pouring in upon them. Regardless of everything, and impelled by hunger, they filled the rooms, overran the beds and other furniture, and scampered about with unconcern along the passages, and up and down the stairs. M. Dulaure, the new proprietor, did not suffer this invasion without attempting a repulse. His first plan was to buy a great number of cats, and these were let loose on the foe. A short experience proved the futility of the effort. The cats devoured what they killed, and therefore destroyed no more rats than they could eat. Besides, after a few days, the cats became disgusted with the occupation. They had eaten so many rats, that all relish for them was gone. Occasionally they would still attack a few stragglers, but the rats defended themselves so vigorously, that the cats were almost always vanquished. As the war of attack ceased, the rats assumed their wonted confidence. Discovering, by experience, that the best times for visiting the family were during meals, they made their appearance regularly every day at breakfast and dinner, when, sitting down quietly near the table, they would wait patiently for some crumbs, seemingly expecting them as a right, which they took the trouble to pick up. Unable to repel these disagreeable guests, both masters and servants, tired of the continual warfare, came to the determination of setting apart the rats' share. Thus a quantity of scraps was abandoned to them each day, and, strange to say, their depredations became less frequent; but, doubtless wishing to thank their entertainers for this kind proceeding, they appeared in greater numbers than ever at the usual hours: some of the more youthful led the old gray-headed rats with all the assurance of intimate acquaintances introducing their friends. One of their number, nearly white with age, always walked slowly and heavily, taking care to pass as near as it could to a large cat, which was obliged to be content with raising its back and sputtering, without daring to attack the offender. This rat was of an extraordinary size: the poor cat was, however, no coward, as was easily perceived from its being minus an ear, and having a dreadfully scarred face; but poor Tom recognised such a dreadful adversary in this old patriarch, that he was willing enough to abuse him, but ventured no further. The inhabitants of the Châtelet gave this rat the name of Gaspard, and he soon became familiar with this appellation, always turning to look in the direction from whence he was called. M. Dulaure, having seen Gaspard several times, gave him the name of the Nestor of the Tribe.' Whenever one attempted to chase these strange visitors, it was always remarked that Gaspard retreated as slowly as ever-though he could have trotted much faster, if he had chosen so to do-and that his companions never lost sight of him, appearing always ready to defend and protect him if necessary. It was soon found to be perfectly useless to wage war against the rats, the vast numbers setting all available powers of destruction at defiance: their agility, as well as the danger of their bites, had completely discouraged the servants. Poison and traps obtained no better success than cats; and so great was their instinct, that they learned to detect poison, and turned away from the traps. The cats having learned wisdom by experience, attempted nought but a war of ambuscade, that was neither frequent nor successful enough to be of great service, and in which they often proved themselves less knowing than their adversaries. Englishman, it will appear somewhat remarkable that a few terrier dogs were not tried as an engine of extirpation. Such a dog as the famed Billy, for example, would probably have cleared the house in a week; but the French do not appear to possess this useful variety of the canine species, or at all events it was not thought of on the present occasion. To an It would be amusing to detail all the plans abortively attempted to quell the rats. At one time the inhabitants of the Châtelet succeeded in enticing a number of them into a room where several trains of sulphur and powder had been previously laid: this met with some success; but those who escaped having retained the memory of the smell, it was quite impossible to allure them a second time. They, however, had dreadful battles in the vaults amongst themselves, and when a victory was won, or a suspension of arms took place, the survivors regaled themselves on the dead and dying, by which means the nation was no doubt relieved in times of scarcity. Truly, if a method could have been found of breathing discord amongst them, in order to raise civil war, it would have been the most efficacious means of destroying them. It was long ere the poor servant-maids could get over the terror they felt at the constant apparition of these animals: they were to be seen everywhere, even creeping up on the skirts of the women and children, but running off at the slightest scream, never attempting to bite, if not retained, of which there was little danger. They evidently liked warmth, as they would lie down quietly under the blankets, on the beds, and even beside the sleepers; but as they were not famished, the only harm they did was to cause alarm and disgust. The final demolition of the Grand Châtelet at once dispersed this extraordinary colony of rats. Turned out of their ancient homes, they fled to the surrounding streets, and endeavoured to find a lodgment in the houses. The inhabitants, however, were on their guard, and many were killed. There was something almost melancholy in the fate of these poor creatures. Shut out from human habitations, great bands of them wandered about like emigrants seeking a settlement, and were fain to take refuge on the banks of the Seine, and in the common sewers of the city. Little by little they disappeared; and it is believed that many found refuge and food in some large grocery stores at the corner of the Rue St Denis; with what satisfaction to the owners, we are unable to say. THE JEWISH CHARACTER. It is the fashion in this country to decry the Jews-to represent them as invariably sordid, mercenary, avaricious, and griping-indeed to carry the charges laid against them to such a length, as to associate with their names a spirit of usury amounting to the most flagrant and dishonourable extortion. And these charges have been repeated so often, and echoed seriously by so many persons deemed a respectable authority, that the prejudice against the Jews has become interwoven with the Englishman's creed. But the exceptions have been mistaken for the rule; and, strange as the assertion may sound to many ears, we boldly proclaim that there is not a more honest, intelligent, humane, and hospitable class of persons on the face of the earth than the Jews. The fact is, when an Englishman is broken down in fortune, and can no longer raise funds by mortgage on his estate, nor by the credit of his name, he flies to the money-lender. Now, Jews are essentially a financial nation; and money-broking, in all its details, is their special avocation. The class of Israelite moneylenders is, therefore, numerous; and it is ten to one that the broken-down individual who requires a loan addresses himself to a Jew, even if he take the moneylender living nearest to him, or to whom he is first recommended. Well, he transacts his business with this Jew; and as he can give no security beyond his bond or his bill, and as his spendthrift habits are notorious, he cannot of course obtain the loan he seeks, save on terms proportionate to the risk incurred by the lender. Yet he goes away, and denounces the Jew as a usurer. But does this person reflect that, had he applied to a Christian money-broker, the terms would have been equally high, seeing that he had no real security to offer, and that his name was already tarnished? Talk of the usury of the Jews-look at the usury practised by Christians! Look at the rapacity of Christian attorneys !-look at the greediness of Christian bill-discounters!-look, in a word, at the money-making spirit of the Christian, and then call the Jew the usurer par excellence! It is a detestable calumny, a vile prejudice, as dishonourable to the English character, as it is unjust towards a generous-hearted race! Mysteries of London. [We cordially agree in this manly defence of a cruelly-misrepresented people.] -Schiller. HOPE. THE future is man's immemorial hymn: The instinct of nature proclaims it aloud- NOVEL USE OF EGGS. J. C. MANGAN. hens' eggs are circulated as small coins, forty-eight or fifty In some parts-for example, in the province of Jaujabeing counted for a dollar. In the market-places and in the shops, the Indians make most of their purchases with this brittle sort of money: one will give two or three eggs for brandy, another for indigo, and a third for cigars. These eggs are packed in boxes by the shopkeepers, and sent to Lima. From Jauja alone several thousand loads of eggs are annually forwarded to the capital.-Tschudi's Travels in Peru. THE BANE OF THE TOWN THE BOON OF THE COUNTRY. The very refuse of the materials which have served as food and clothing to the inhabitants of the crowded city, and which, if allowed to accumulate there, invariably and inevitably taint the air, and render it pestilential, promptly removed and spread out on the surface of the surrounding country, not only give it healthfulness, but clothe it with Southwood Smith's Evidence before the Health of Towns' Comverdure, and endue it with inexhaustible fertility.-Dr mission. CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE. to the EDUCATIONAL COURSE-ARITHMETIC, THEORETICAL AND A WORK for some time in considerable request has now been added PRACTICAL,' which, while serving as a sequel to the Introduction to Arithmetic,' formerly published, forms an independent treatise, conducting the pupil from the first steps in the science of numbers to that stage where it becomes necessary to adopt the more general symbols of Algebra. By the addition of this work, the series of books in the EDUCATIONAL COURSE on the science of Number and Measurement (Mathematics) may be said to be complete. The list is as follows: Introduction to Arithmetic. Price 18. Arithmetic, advanced treatise, now issued. Price 2s. 6d. A Key to the Elements of Algebra. Price 2s. 6d. A Key to Plane Geometry. Price 2s. W. and R. CHAMBERS, Edinburgh, and all Booksellers. Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold by D. CHAMBERS, 98 Miller Street, Glasgow; W. S. Orr, 147 Strand, and Amen Corner, London; and J. M'GLASHAN, 21 D'Olier Street, Dublin.-Printed by W. and R. CHAMBERS, Edinburgh. EDINBURGH JOURNAL CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR TIIE PEOPLE,' 'CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE,' &c. YOU WOULD LIKE HIM, IF YOU KNEW HIM. PERSONS Who only hear of each other, are found in many instances to entertain a mutual prejudice. Opposition in politics, variety of creed, rivalry in profession, and many such matters, give rise to this repugnance. Or it may spring from some of those mysterious caprices which sometimes lurk at the bottom of our minds. As, for instance, we may dislike a man because we hear him often spoken of, or his sayings quoted, or because we think he wears some part of his attire in a provoking manner. One great source of hatred, is a suspicion that the other party sets himself above us. We assume that he is proud, and then condemn him for the imaginary offence. Sometimes we suspect he hates us, and think it only right that we should hate him in return. Misunderstandings, frequently from the most trifling causes, also lead to estrangements which perhaps endure for life, while a short explanation, and possibly a mere show of concession, would remove every feeling of hostility, and render men of congenial feelings the best of friends. Endless, alas! are even the fictitious causes of mutual wrath and jealousy. It is not uncommon, accordingly, to hear one wellenough meaning person railing at some other, of whom he has no certain knowledge. On such occasions, a bystander will quietly remark, 'You would like him, if you knew him.' This is often the truth. Did we know the man, we should find that we had dressed up, in imaginary peculiarities of a detestable nature, one who is, to say the least, a very passable kind of man, if not one of somewhat extraordinary good qualities. And many a time does it happen that we do, in time, become acquainted with the object of our aversion, and learn to look upon him with both esteem and affection. It is not, however, necessary for a change in our feelings towards the formerly hated stranger, that we should discover in him either very brilliant or very loveable qualities, or find that we have many points of common taste or opinion. It is enough, in most cases, for the desired revolution, that we have met, and conversed, and found each other human. Sweet are the words of courtesy between man and man: those who have exchanged the simplest greetings, find them like the eating of salt among the Arabs-a controlling bond of the most sacred kind. Hence, after a brief communion, the prejudice will vanish almost as mysteriously as it arose; and we part, acknowledging each other to be very tolerable persons, although not one word beyond commonplace may have passed between us. There are some professions and courses of life more apt than others to raise ignorant hatreds. Literary men are said to be liable to such feelings in an unusual degree. So are artists. Perhaps the musicians are the PRICE 1d. most discordant of all. It seems to be owing, in no small degree, to the reserved and solitary lives which these men almost necessarily lead. Some time ago, an economical kind of club was formed in London by the men engaged in the refined arts, and I am assured that it has already been the means of dispelling many groundless antipathies. The men come into social contact. Little favours and kindnesses are exchanged. They mutually find they are better than they had supposed. And the result is, that the exercise of high intellect becomes attended by those genial sentiments which are alone worthy of it. son. Imperfect knowledge may be said to be the real foundation of pretty nearly all mutual repulsions. Reasoning from a single fact, or what is assumed to be a fact, and ignorant of a variety of redeeming circumstances, we suddenly rush to conclusions which are altogether unwarrantable on grounds of truth or reaIn this erroneous evolution of mind, there may, indeed, be a perverse disinclination to search for truth. Having formed a theory of cause and effect, seemingly complete in structure, there is an unwillingness to do anything likely to overturn the fabric, for it would amount to a confession of error, and damage self-esteem. Thus the man who, from a sudden, but, as he conceives, proper impulse, insults another, rarely makes any overture at reparation. He considers his judgment to be at stake, and will rather endure a life of painful resentment, it may be of remorse, than acknowledge that he could by any possibility be in error. Nations, like men, hate because they know each other imperfectly. Were the French and English to make a point of spending a twelvemonth in youth in each other's countries, not as strangers in the hotels, but as members of each other's families, there would never again be war between them, for then would ignorant antipathies give place to mutual respect and kindly regard. The English pass in great numbers to France; but instead of uniting domestically with the people, they keep apart, and maintain all their own national habits; consequently little is done towards conciliation. Doubtless, however, it will not be so always. The facilities afforded to travelling will by and by produce a much greater interfusion of the people of the two countries; assimilations in manners and ideas will take place; and then capricious hatreds of all kinds must die a natural death. It is in this way that the material and mechanical doings of our age are yet to tell in great moral effects. Iron will, in time, be an instrument of love and union, as it has heretofore been one of captivity and oppression. In the meanwhile, why should not both individuals and nations exercise some control over those emotions which lead to the antipathies of ignorance? Suppose we hate a man whom we never met or conversed with, merely because he is of a different political or religious denomination from us, or because we think he must be a haughty man, or because we suspect he has no good feeling towards ourselves: let us reflect on what he might be, if we knew him-what pleasantnesses, what virtues we might find in him-what kindly feelings he might prove to be entertaining for us, all the time we thought him haughty and contemptuous-what community of design and aspiration there might be discovered beneath the various external profession-and we shall see cause for at least moderating or suspending our jealous notions, if not for substituting amicable sentiments in their place. Let nations in like manner imagine themselves acquainted with each other, so as to see with their eyes, what all travellers tell, that everywhere the charities of life are in some shape developed, everywhere is there much to love and admire; and then it could only appear absurd to cherish groundless jealousies, fears, and hatreds against the other families of our race. RESISTANCE TO GREAT TRUTHS. THE history of astronomy, in common with that of Nicholas Copernicus was born at Thorn, a city of Polish Prussia, in February 1473. He acquired the elements of Greek and Latin under the paternal roof, and afterwards studied philosophy and medicine in the university of Cracow, where he gained the title of doctor. His attention was, however, principally attracted by the study of mathematics; this he pursued with extraordinary zeal, and at the same time he obtained some knowledge of astronomy and the use of instruments. The fame of Regiomontanus inspired him with a desire to visit Italy; and at the age of twenty-three he set out for that country, where he first attended the lectures of the astronomer Dominic Maria, at Bologna. On his arrival at Rome, he was appointed to a professorship of mathematics; and after a residence in that city of several years, during which he pursued his astronomical observations, he returned to his native country. Through the influence of his uncle, the bishop of Warmia, he obtained a canonicate at Frauenburg, where he took up his residence, and continued his scientific studies. The openings which he made in the walls of his chamber, in order to observe the idea is required to constitute a great genius: there must quently accompanies true genius, Copernicus commenced Nevertheless, with the resolute perseverance that fre a series of observations by which to verify his calculations; and having constructed the necessary instruments, he paused not in his investigations until the tables required for the prediction of the phenomena were completed. About the year 1507 he began to commit his thoughts to writing; and in 1530, at the age of fifty-seven, he had the satisfaction of seeing his manuscript labours brought to a close, in a work divided into six books, entitled 'De Revolutionibus Orbium Cœlestium,' in which the whole theory is reduced to one simple idea, exhibited with clearness and precision, constituting what is now known as the Copernican System; that is, that the sun is the centre of consequently, the earth moves. The real distances of the a system of planets which revolve round it, and that, planets, and the declination of the pole of the earth, were also explained. However firm the conviction of Copernicus as to the |