antiquity and era; I say, perhaps, for, as in the Rosetta stone, Greck inscriptions may have been usual in Egypt; and Strabo tells us, what famous pilgrimages, festivities, and debaucheries, were usual at this celebrated temple of Serapis, at Canopus, which was destroyed by order of Theodosius.

No. 37. A colossal hawk. It represented the Sun, or Osiris. (Plut. de ls. et Osir.) It was death to kill this bird, and it had a temple in Upper Egypt. Strabo, in particular, mentious the hawk of Ethiopia, which had a temple in the isle of Phile, very large, and different from all others, even those of Egypt. (L. vii.) Count Caylus, (iv. 121.) speaking of a hawk, which holds a serpent in his beak, says, that the Egyptians, tormented by serpents, were led by grati. tude to revere the animals, who delivered them from that pest. Notwithstanding he thinks that they did not worship the hawk as a divinity, but only used his figure as a symbol. (iv. p. 121.) Montfaucon, and the Isiac table, show numbers of hawks upon Egyptian monuments. In the Rolandin cabinet, at Rome, is a large hawk of Basalt, twentyone inches high, covered with a flat bonnet, round at top, and fastened under the head by two bands.

Nos. 38 and 39, are fragments.

I have omitted to make any remarks upon the colossal fists, because I presume that they have been merely parts of statues, such as were the figures of Osymandyas, his mother, &c. mentioned by Diodorus, Pococke, &c. Athanasius says, that the hand especially was worshiped as a deity; and hence the vast collection in museums; (see Montfaucon, &c.) but Mongez and the French antiquaries think, that they were merely votive.

THOMAS DUDLEY FOSBROOKE.

For the Monthly Magazine.

OBSERVATIONS ON BENEFIT SOCIETIES.

HAT the idea of these societies is THAT good, I believe, has never been disputed. Long and general experience sufficiently proves, that they are well adapted to the circumstances and dispositions of the lower classes. But general experience also proves that they too often disappoint expectation and fail of accomplishing the beneficial purposes they undertake. That there are considerable faults in their constitution or management, is acknowledged by all your correspondents,

1

For a short time they appear to flourish, soon they struggle for existence, and expire.

That the principal fault of benefit societies is the want of fair and just laws or regulations, there can be no doubt; still they are liable to a great objection from the nature of their government. A government altogether popular has no steadiness or permanence, its counsels are precipitate and distracted, it conti nually totters on the brink of destruction. Benefit Societies, by the perpetual rotation of their rulers, are evidently of the worst kind of this species of government. They are destitute of that preponderating executive authority, without which no society can prosper, or pursue any steady uniform system. Not only is their government full of weak, ness and disorder, but their very exis. tence is subject to the fickle and hasty passions of a few ignorant men. Having no object of sufficient consideration to engage their confidence, they view each other with mistrust and jealousy, and soon get into strife and confusion. Sometimes seized with a sudden fit of cupidity, they dissolve the society, and divide the plunder. Instances are known when the members were all of the same trade, of the capital being diverted from its ori ginal purpose, and applied to support a conspiracy to raise their wages; by which unlawful measure, old members, who had contributed most, and who had least interest in their new resolutions, were unjustly deprived of the expected support of old age. In short, just laws, a respectable administration, and undoubted security, are what these socicties want, without which no prudent inan would chuse to be connected with them. Who could repose. with any gree of confidence, in sickness or old age, on a foundation which has no better support than the good government of men, altogether unenlightened and inexperienced; of men, without any importance of character, or public responsi bility, and which too, by a sudden gust of humour, may be wholly swept away?

de

Legal provision for the poor is certainly carried to a sufficient extent. Voluntary exertions, particularly by persons who are likely to need relief, are no doubt best. But these exertions can never be altogether general; for, as has been observed, the thoughtful have sometimes no opportunity, and for thoughtlessness there is no cure. To a multitude of well

disposed

disposed persons, some service may certainly be rendered by taking advantage of that anxiety to provide against the calamities of life, which is known to be universal among people of this descrip tion. Perhaps no less than the one-half of the working class might be willing and able, in an honorable way, to make this provision, if they were fully assured of not being frustrated in their endeavours. This much-wished-for security might, I think, be very easily obtained. Instead of the compulsory proposal, mentioned above, which could not be put in practice without the difficult and disagreeable interference of legislative authority, why should not rather the more obvious and simple plan be tried of a Voluntary Parochial Benefit Society? By which, I mean, that in every parish be established a society called by its ́name, and of which the parish shall be the perpetual legislators, curators, and guarantees. Against such a measure, no objection that I can conceive could possibly arise from any quarter; it subjects none to any degree of control; and, instead of encroaching on the interests of any, it evidently promotes the interests of all. It is the proper business of the parish, by every means in their power, to assist and protect the poor; and, in this way, the greatest good may be done with the least trouble. It will require little argument to prove, that, by elevating Benefit Societies from their disgraceful and obscure retreats in public houses, and from the contemptible government of ignorant men, they will immediately acquire that dignity and importance in the eyes of the people, which cannot fail to inspire them with confidence.

A great recommendation of such a project is, that it is simple and intelligible to every capacity, and is altogether safe and practicable; whatever good may ensue, it cannot be attended with any bad consequences; if even it should not succeed, there will be no loss, no misfortune, to lament, matters will not be worse than they are at present. We are not here called upon, as is generally the case in new schemes, to walk upon untrodden paths, or to plunge into the unpractised regions of theory. Of the nature and practice of Benefit Societies, and of the faults incident to them, particularly their misgovernment and insecurity, every one is well acquainted. To rectify their abuses is all the alteration, all the novelty that is requested; and for this purpose a demand is made, not on the generosity, but on the personal favor

and encouragement, of persons who themselves are deeply interested in their prosperity. The most cautious, the most timid, experimentalist will not be alarmed at a proposal, where no new expences are to be incurred, no innovations hazarded, nor old institutions overturned.

The Parochial Benefit Society would, no doubt, at first require some serious deliberation to devise such laws and regulations, as will be most extensively useful to the poor; but chiefly such a just calculation of the future demands, as to leave no doubt of its permanence. But, having fairly set it afloat, the trouble is at an end; unike many other plans for the good of the poor, which require unceasing care and expence to keep them in existence. A few pounds yearly from its funds to the clerk of the parish, with the gratuitous assistance of the members, would do the whole of the business. Thus, by merely humouring, and conducting into a proper channel the natural wishes, and laudable prejudices of mankind, a service may be performed of infinitely more importance than a multitude of direct taxes. One would imagine,

that, when such vast sums are expended, and so much personal trouble is daily exerted, in ameliorating the state of the poor, none would think of objecting to assist and encourage them in performing that duty for themselves.

In

the

SIR,

HE authority, concerning which

Tyour correspondent N. (vol. xxxii.

page 341,) inquires, is that of a learned anonymous critic in the Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung, whose reasons are these: 1. The Greek denomination. (A treacherous argument!) 2. The notorious manners of the country. (A mere presumption!) 3. The habiliment of the individual, which is such as no dehave to

gle with a crowd in, at an hour between sun-set and bed-time. (A strong symptom!) 4. The free behaviour of the young men, who would never have presumed to pluck a sindon off the loins of a respectable person, whom accident or terror had exposed to such a situation. (A weighty and conclusive reason!) This information should have been sent sooner, had the inquiry been observed before the volume came home from the binding.

March, 1812.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.

SIR,

W

WITH your leave, Mr. Editor, I beg leave to say a few words to Common Sense, a very intelligent and well-informed correspondent of your's, whose letters I have been much pleased with, and from which I have frequently received much information. In a late Number he has favoured your readers with twenty-one" Golden Maxims" (as he terms them,) for the electors of the United Kingdom, &c. I would just remark, that, although some of them are of the PUREST GOLD, yet one is of PURE BRASS. Give me leave to instance the sixteenth maxim, which is as follows: "Many Scotchmen, like many lawyers, are solely bent by any means on making their for tune, &c." This maxim requires no comment. I am sure that Common Sense will blush to see it rise up in judgment against him, it being so opposite to his characteristic liberality. What mo

tive could stimulate, what new cause could urge him to publish so unqualified a slander of the Scottish people? Without either truth or justice to warrant so unprovoked an attack, and contrary to the principles of liberty, and the spirit and temper of benevolence, by which the friends of freedom profess to square their conduct; it would really appear, that "Common Sense" had been haunted by the ghost of Dr. Johnson, which his terrified imagination had raised up after reperusing that farrago of falsehood and misrepresentation, which the Dr. cailed a Journey to the Hebrides. I wish that "Common Sense" had possessed a little common candour, (for the sake of his own reputation,) when he was writing these Maxims. CRISPIN.

Fleet-street, March 7, 1812.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.

SIR,

AVING lately received an unein valuable Magazine has an extensive reading in the country, I am induced to trouble you with this small but important article on Rice Bread, which I make by adding half a pound of rice (that has been boiled forty or fifty minutes in two quarts of water) to a peck of flour, and find that it improves the bread in flavour and colour; and this is not all, for it increases it in the proportion of a fifth, and is a saving of nearly one shilling in five. A PHILANTHROPIST.

Newbury, April 1, 1812.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.

I

SIR,

SOMETIMES reside in London, and sometimes here, and I have observed of late, both in town and country, the fashion (for I conceive that influ ences more than any thing else) of drinking toast and water very generally, and particularly at meals. This wastes a vast quantity of bread. I will be bold to say,. and take the kingdom throughout, there are many hundred loaves consumed, or rather wasted, thus daily: and this, from a mistaken notion, and from perhaps the custom of mothers giving water thus to their children, that it is more pleasant and wholesome; but this certainly is not the case; for to suppose either, is an absurdity: how can a piece of burnt bread mend it? I may say with the poet, "God never made his works for inan to mend." Perhaps a bit of bread, thus dried, may take off the rawness of the water, as it is called; and how far, con

sidered

sidered in a medical view, may be well for the sickly, I will not say; but, with regard to every healthy person, I will maintain, water is best in its natural state.

How insipid and vapid is water with toasted or burnt bread in it? The virtue and spirit of the water seems gone. Whereas, what spirit, what life and freshness, there is in water, just fresh from the spring? I always drink water myself, at my meals. I have drank it both ways, and prefer the latter beyond all comparison; and am persuaded, nineteen out of twenty would, were they to give it a fair trial, do so too. It is na tural, and therefore it would be a wonder if they did not.

But withal, when persons consider the great waste of bread hereby, and the distresses of the poor, it becomes a duty and let them consider, how many thousand poor children this bread would daily feed, who are crying for want. Bread is now here just four-pence per pound, having only one pound nine bunces for six-pence; and I suppose it is about the same in London at this time. I remember the time when you could buy twelve pounds of bread here for a shilling. BENEVOLUS.

Warwickshire, April 8, 1812.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.

SIR,

BSERVING the letter in your Magazine for January last, from Pro Bono Publico, and perfectly agreeing on the great propriety and necessity of lessening, as much as possible, the consumption of Bread, or at least wheat flour, I beg leave to state a mode of making potato bread, so as to be quite equal to fine French bread.

The weight of flour you would use being known, take only two-thirds of that weight, and take the other third in good mealy potatoes, after being carefully peeled and the eyes taken out, let them be boiled gently in plenty of water, and taken up when just done, and strained and mashed in a wooden bowl; then add fresh warm water, and pass them through a very fine-brass wire sieve, adding warm water as requisite; this affords an opportunity of breaking with the hand, or taking out the minutest lump; having done this carefully, nothing remains but to put this into the kneading tub, and mix up the flour in the same manner, and with the same proportion of yeast and salt, as if the whole had been MONTHLY MAG, No. 226.

flour: it may be best to add the potatoe mash on the working up of the leaven; but much remains for the fancy of the maker, which practice will properly direct. On one thing you may rely, if well made it is more beautiful, pleasant, and will keep much longer excellent, than bread made all of wheat.

I have for some time made a point of having a dish of roasted potatoes on the table at breakfast, dinner, and tea, which are eaten with salt only, or the addition of a little boiled milk, which is brought in a jug; and, if at the first and last of those meals there is a superfluous quantity of eatables brought, it is always the toast, or bread and butter, that is carried away; indeed, if any thing occurs to prevent the usual dish of potatoes from appearing, we find it a difficulty to be satisfied; and, for myself, I was always in the habit of eating bread at dinner, but now, that I have roasted potatoes, I usually dispense with it.

I certainly consider roasted potatoes more nutritious than boiled ones, and have some thoughts of trying the experiment of making bread with them instead of boiled, and I am persuaded, if taken out of the oven, and broke, i. e. squeezed well in the hand with a cloth, while hot, they would he found to mix with little trouble, and might be used in the making of muffins and pastry; but these experiments require more leisure than I have to give, and I shall be glad to hear if any of your correspondents make use of them in this way.

The culture of potatoes ought to be strongly recommended and encouraged. Bristol, Jan. 27, 1812. G.

For the Monthly Magazine. PILGRIMAGE to the GREAT CARTHUSIAN CONVENT, near GRENOBLE; in LETTER from the GERMAN POET MAT

THISSON.

(Concluded from p. 223.)

EING now so near the great and

B celebrated Carthusian convent, I

was the more strongly tempted to pay it a visit, as Bonstetten had, more than once, described the lively impression which the local peculiarities of the wildly romantic environs of this convent once produced on the acutely sensible mind of his friend Gray.

The excursion to this awfully sublime desert, of which it may truly be asserted that,

Nought but itself can be its parallelI was obliged to perform on horseback, Xx because

because there is no carriage road over the wild and rugged mountains, beyond which the convent, not less remarkable for its history than for its architecture, presents itself in solitary majesty to the astonished eye of the traveller. I should think that a tract encumbered with more colossal rocks could scarcely be found in our quarter of the globe, than the immediate vicinity of the great Carthusian convent, which unfortunately yet wants a Salvator Rosa. They are in general perpendicular masses, of such stupendous height, as even to fatigue the eye when it attempts to embrace their dimensions. But no description can furnish the imagination with a correct standard for a nature so gigantic. The depths are in the most exact proportion to the heights; for abysses more awful and tremendous than those of this mountainous district are not to be seen even among the Alps of the Valais and of the Grisons. Had St. Bruno traversed the globe from one pole to the other, he could not have selected a more appropriate situation for a temple of solemn silence, of melancholy contemplation, and of religious self-de

nial.

The very box-trees and pines that grow around are also of genuine Titan race. The same may be said of many Alpine plants, especially of the superb yellow gentian, to which Haller devoted some charming verses, and which still appeared to my imagination as the fittest sceptre for the queen of flowers. It grew in uncommon profusion in a field not far from the farm-house belonging to the convent, and so far exceeded the growth of the same plant in the moun. tains of Switzerland and Tyrol, as to remind me of the gigantic lilies of New Holland, the picture of which, as described in a book of travels that I had recently read, was yet present to my mind.

The convent is one of the largest in the world, and imposes by that striking character of solidity, which defies the fury of the elements and the ravages of time. Notwithstanding the magnitude of its dimensions, this edifice dwindles into a house built by children with cards, when the eye is raised to the towering rocks around it.

It was three o'clock in the morning when I set out from Grenoble, accompanied by a guide who had made this excursion above forty times with stran gers. After a toilsome ride of six hours, we arrived at the convent, where a

bailiff, who entertains you with sour wine and mouldy bread, now alone resides.

The thirty-six cells of the monks stand vacant. Tall weeds over-run the small contiguous gardens, whose decayed arbours witnessed so many sweetly painful aspirations after a superior order of beings, and so many sighs extorted by the recollection of all the social joys here sacrificed to heaven.

The high-arched refectory is degraded into a store-room for all sorts of garden herbs, which lie in heaps upon the floor. The church was stripped of all its orna ments. The beautiful high altar decorates the cathedral of Grenoble. The chapter-hall has sustained the least injury; here the portraits of the priors from St. Bruno, who died in 1101, are placed in a row under the cornice, in the same manner as those of the popes in St. Peter's church at Rome. Here, on the fourth Sunday after Easter, the deputies of the eighty-two Carthusian con vents in Christendom annually assembled. That their number was so high, is attested by the representations of them all, to which a particular corridore is allotted, and which, because they are in general badly painted, have remained untouched. The transept is 340 paces in length.

The fury of the revolution penetrated even to this abode of peace and silence, though so difficult of access. The sacred receptacles of the dead themselves were not spared. The stone crosses set up for them lie broken in pieces, as well as the great crucifix which stood in the middle of the cemetery. Here Gray might have composed a contrast to his Elegy in a Country Church-yard. What a multitude of new images and ideas for his sublime genius in such a scene!

By the deep crimson of the beautiful small-leafed epilobium, which luxuriantly flourishes over the ashes of the poor Carthusians, its sombre colouring is enlivened, as one of your compositions, my dear friend, brightens the face of Sorrow, when smiling through her tears, she presses it to the bosom of Hope.

An old lay-brother was my guide through the forsaken apartments of the monastery. He told me in a low confidential tone that St. Bruno had appeared to him in a dream, and prophesied that every thing would be restored to its former state, and then he hoped yet to see happy days. At that moment fain would I have chanted in animated strains the praises of Hope, the most beneficent of fairies, as Bürger terins her! This

old