seize eagerly at the fly; common trout become more SONG. THE TAKING OF THE SALMON. Hark! 'tis the music of the reel, Hark to the music of the reel! A birr! a whirr! the salmon's off!- Lies gleaming at the bottom. Hark to the music of the reel! 'Tis hush'd, it hath forsaken; A birr! a whirr! the salmon's up, Give line, give line and measure; Hark to the music of the reel! A birr! a whirr! the salmon's in, The princely fish is gasping slow, Hark to the music of the reel, No birr! no whirr! the salmon's ours, Hark! to the music of the reel, THE SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL IN THE following specimen of the sublime and beautiful they spoke of My Address, and My Humble Person, in the Paris, Vienna, Berlin, Dresden, Augsburgh, and Hamburgh Journals. The Public's Devoted SerC. H. SIMPSON." vant, THE DYING PHILOSOPHER. Honour of Addressing-and as that Address has been son, Master of the Ceremonies of these Gardens for and am now in the 64th Year of my Age. To that Wise Ornament of the British Empire, the British Parliament :-To the Noble Lords Spiritual and Temporal, My Lords, may I beseech your Lord. ships accompanied with the Lord Chancellor will be Graciously pleased to Honour my Benefit with your Distinguished Patronage and Presence. To the Honourable the House of Commons, My Lords and Honourable Gentlemen, I most humbly Beseech that accompanied by your Honourable Speaker you will be Graciously pleased to Honour My Benefit with your Noble and Honourable Patronage and Pre sence. I rested. adieu." APSLEY HOUSE. I have THE following curious particulars relating to Apsley House, the residence of the Duke of Wellington, at Hyde Park Corner, are not, we believe, generally known; they may, however, be relied on as facts. Hyde Park, he met an old soldier, whom he recog As George II. was riding on horseback one day in nised as having fought under him at Dettingen, and with great condescension fell into discourse with him. In the course of conversation the king asked what he could do for him. "Why, please your majesty," returned the soldier, "my wife keeps an apple-stall on the bit of waste ground as you enter the park, and if your majesty would be pleased to make us a grant of it, we might build a little shed and improve our trade." The king complied with his request, and the grant was accordingly given him. The shed was erected, the situation was excellent, and the business of the old woman became brisk and prosper. ous. After some years the old soldier died, and the grant of the late king was entirely forgotten. The then lord chancellor, attracted by the eligibility of the situation, removed the old woman's shed, and laid "To the Most Illustrious, Noble, Distinguished, out the ground as the site of a mansion. Alarmed, and Respectable Visitors, that so kindly Vouchsafed but not venturing to contend with such a high to Honour My Benefit, Last Year, with their Distinauthority, she consulted with her son, who was arguished Patronage and Presence, some of whom, havticled to an attorney, how she should act in such an ing Kindly Condescended to wish (even Royalty extremity. The son calmed her fears by promising to itself), both last Year and this Season, that I should All these reasons will, I earnestly hope, induce all find her a remedy as soon as the structure should be take another Benefit; but being fearful of being the Illustrious, Noble, and Distinguished Visitors to completed. When this was done, he waited on his thought too Obtrusive upon your Condescending Ge- be Graciously pleased to Condescend to Patronise my alleged to be a trespass on his mother's rights. The lordship to request some remuneration for what he nerosity to My Humble Person; However, Most Illusearnest prayer for your distinguished Support on the trious, Noble, Distinguished, and Respectable Ladies night of My Benefit, as I do assure you, most Illustri-chancellor, when he perceived the claim to be reasonand Gentlemen, as I am now fully convinced that it ous, Noble, and Distinguished Ladies and Gentlemen, ably founded, tendered a few hundreds of pounds as a will not be thought Obtrusive, I, with all due Sub- it will truly gladden the heart, for the remainder of compensation, which, however, under the advice of her mission, again take the very great liberty (which I his days, of your most Submissive, Humble, and de- son, the old woman rejected, and on the next interhumbly hope you will pardon) of most respectfully votedly faithful Servant, at your Command, in the 64th view the son demanded L.400 a-year as a ground rent, when his lordship acceded to the proposal, and Apsley informing you, that, in Compliance with your Com-year of his Age, and shall never, while I live, cease mands, the Worthy Proprietors, in their Kind Gene- to testify my Gratitude for the same. House yields to this day the above ground rent to the rosity to me, have granted me this Season another several months ago. descendants of an old applewoman.-London papers Benefit, on Monday, 21st July 1834. :ADDRESS TO THE VISITORS OF VAUXHALL GARDENS. And as My Humble Address of last Year received such Unqualified Approbation of all the Illustrious, Noble, Distinguished, and Respectable Classes of Great Britain; and also all the Illustrious, Distinguished, and Respectable Classes, and Inhabitants of Paris, Vienna, Berlin, Dresden, Augsburgh, Hamburgh, Rome, and other Cities on the Continent, too numerous for me now to mention. His Holiness the Pope of Rome, also, took Very great Interest in My Benefit Last Year, and Three Noble English Lords told me of it in the Gardens. As they had Just Come from Rome, His Holiness wished them to explain to aim what situation mine was, as Master of the Ceremonies, to be Capable of Writing, as he Called it, Such an Eloquent Address, and as that Address is but a mere Humble Statement of Facts, drawn up (without any assistance whatever) from the Genuine feelings of My Heart, to those whom I have the High Distinguished Visitors, that neither pains nor expense I have the Honour to Remain, Most Illustrious, In the 64th year of My Age, and Master of the Ceremonies Royal Gardens, Vauxhall, July 1834. In this address I also feel it my bounden duty to return my most Grateful thanks to that Classical Ornament of the present day, the Enlightened and Eminent Gentlemen of the British Press, for the Very distinguished mention which they have been pleased to make of My Humble Person, and the manner in which they so handsomely came forward, regardless of Politics, to give me their Enlightened and Generous support last Year, which Benefit is a thing Unparalleled in History. Also to the Gentlemen of the Foreign Journals for the Very handsome and Magnificent manner in which To prevent misapprehension, we have to state that the name which has been given to "the Hero in Humble Life," in the first article of the last number, is fictitious, but that the editors will be happy to communicate the real name and address of the individual in question, to those who may feel disposed to reward merit of so extraordinary and so deserving a nature. The present opportunity is taken of acknowledging the receipt of a pound from a gentleman in Dublin for the benefit of the solJournal, and which will be conveyed to her on the expiry of the dier's widow, whose story appeared in the 136th number of the beneficent allowance of the Duchess of St Alban's. LONDON: Published, with Permission of the Proprietors, by ORR Stereotyped by A. Kirkwood, Edinburgh. CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "THE BOOK OF SCOTLAND," &c., AND BY ROBERT CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "TRADITIONS OF EDINBURGH," "PICTURE OF SCOTLAND," &c. No. 173. SELF-KILLING. OUR ancestors, with all their disadvantages, were most enviably at leisure. From the highest to the humblest rank, they took their ease. Their spare time was in too many cases ill-spent; they gambled, tippled, and indulged in innumerable mischievous sports. But, irrational as they were, and severely as their habits sometimes told upon their constitutions, it is very doubtful if they suffered so much from these causes as their successors do from the consequences of more virtuous, but over-tasking labour. To maintain what each man conceives to be a creditable existence, now requires such close and vigorous exertions, that more, we verily believe, perish in the performance of duties in themselves laudable, than formerly sank under fox-hunting, toasting, and the gout. The desk is now what the table was before; and, instead of exercises pursued at the risk of our necks, we are now in danger from taking no exercise at all. It is in large cities that this kind of unintentional self-destruction is most prominently exemplified. The inhabitant of the country, living in a manner more refined, but almost equally leisurely with our ancestors, can form no idea of the oppressive labours of a great portion of the people of the second-rate city in his neighbourhood, especially those in the higher professional and mercantile walks; nor can the inhabitant of such a city, over-laboured as he may think himself, conceive the infinitely more burdensome duties of the corresponding classes in the metropolis. The English, as a nation, are characterised by a fanatical devotion to business. They are in this respect only faintly imitated by the Scotch, who, tinged as they now are by English peculiarities, still leave a little of themselves vacant for the cultivation of something beyond the narrow scope of their habitual duties. And it is in London, above all other places, that this frenzy is to be observed in its most glaring forms. I have often thought that it might be worth while to make observations upon a certain number of London citizens of various classes, and endeavour to ascertain if there was any thing in their existence, besides business, for which it was worth while to carry on that business, or to live at all. In cases numberless, it would be found that, from eight in the morning till ten or even eleven at night, trade was practised and attended to in dull and unhealthy situations, without any but the shortest intervals of relaxation, during which a meal was hastily swallowed at a neighbouring place of public entertainment; the night being spent at a home in the outskirts of the city, where the father of the family is never present during an hour of daylight, except on Sunday, which he spends in reading a weekly newspaper, making up acquaintance with his children, and taking a walk to dip Shock in the Paddington Canal. I should like the inquiry to be made upon proper grounds, if there be sufficient enjoyment in a life of this kind, to make it worth while for an individual to devote nearly two-thirds of his whole time to a labour which, after all, may be unattended with the expected remuneration. To spend nine hours at a time in business, without food or relaxation, is not only not uncommon, but an almost universal practice, among the citizens of London: from a breakfast at eight to a chop at five, they are never, to use an expressive phrase, off the stretch. Upon a stomach enfeebled by exhaustion, they then lay the load of a full meal, which perfect leisure would hardly enable them to digest. But, far from waiting It need scarcely be pointed out that the present article has a connection in subject with that entitled "Use and Have," which lately appeared in the Journal. SATURDAY, MAY 23, 1835. to digest it, they have no sooner laid down knife and fork, than away they must once more rush to business-not perhaps willingly, for nature tells them that it would be agreeable to rest; but then-but then business must be attended to. If nature were to punish the daily transgression by the nightly suffering, we should find few who, for the sake of pecuniary gain, would thus expose themselves to misery. But unfortunately she runs long accounts with her children, and, like a cheating attorney, seldom renders her bill till the whole subject of litigation has been eaten up. Paralysis at fifty comes like the mesne process upon the victim of commercial enthusiasm, and either hurries him off to that prison from which there is no liberation, or leaves him for a few years organically alive to enjoy the fruits of his labours. A life thus spent is a mere fragment of what it ought to be. The means of obtaining pleasure bave swallowed up the end. The glorious face of nature, with all its sublime and beautiful alternations; the delights of social life; the pleasures arising from the exercise of the finer feelings, and the cultivation of the intellect; all that higher class of gratifications which nature has designed a moderate labour to place within the reach of all her creatures, have been lost to such a man. But perhaps there is no class which presents such marked instances of self-sacrifice as that of the barristers. Several of the more highly reputed of this profession are not only overwhelmed with lucrative business, but also endeavour to serve their country in Parliament; rising for this purpose long before the break of day, spending many hours in study and in pleading, and after all, perhaps, concluding twenty-four hours of unceasing exertion in the House of Commons. They no doubt realise great sums of money, and have much enjoyment in gratified ambition: but are those advantages so great, and so exclusively desirable, as to be fit to reconcile a rational being to so unnatural and so pernicious a mode of life? It was lately related of a first-rate counsel, that he obtained an income of fif. teen thousand pounds, but was every night so completely exhausted by his labours, that, for several hours after their cessation, he could not be addressed or approached without experiencing the most acute nervous distress. I must own that such an individual seems to me simply an object of pity. I am concerned to think that a man possessing the talent and information requisite for the production of such an income, should be deficient in so elementary, or what ought to be so elementary, a piece of knowledge, as that his course of life is contrary to the ordinances of nature, or, if he possess this knowledge, that he should have so little self-command as not to act upon it. The absurdity of an ignorance or weakness of this kind is perhaps still more striking, when it occurs in individuals who make the acquisition of knowledge the chief aim of life. As the world is at present situated, it is possible to acquire learning upon almost every subject, and an infinite amount of knowledge, useful and otherwise, without even by chance lighting upon a knowledge of the most indispensable observances necessary for the preservation of a sound mind in a sound body. Half of the multiform languages of Asia may be mastered, while the prodigy who boasts so much learning knows not that to sit a whole day within doors at close study is detrimental to health; or, if he knows so much, deliberately prefers the course which leads to ruin. Leyden, an enthusiast of this order, was ill with a fever and liver complaint at Mysore, Of the frequent occurrence of premature paralysis, in consequence of the mode of life above described, we are assured by a metropolitan physician of the greatest eminence. PRICE THREE HALFPENCE. and yet continued to study ten hours a-day. His physician warned him of the dangerous consequences that were likely to ensue, when he answered, "Very well, doctor, you have done your duty, but I cannot be idle: whether I am to die or live, the wheel must go round to the last." "I may perish in the attempt," he said on another occasion; "but if I die without surpassing Sir William Jones a hundred fold in Ori. ental learning, let never tear for me profane the eye of a Borderer." And he eventually sank, in his thirtysixth year, under the consequences of spending some time in an ill-ventilated library, which a slight acquaintance with one of the most familiar of the sciences would have warned him against entering. Alexander Nicoll, a recent professor of Hebrew at Oxford, who was said to be able to walk to the wall of China without the aid of an interpreter, died at the same age, partly through the effects of that intense study which so effectually but so uselessly had gained him distinction. Dr Alexander Murray, a similar prodigy, died in his thirty-eighth year, of over-severe study; making the third of a set of men remarkable for the same wonderful attainments, and natives of the same country, who, within a space of twenty years, fell victims to their deficiency in a piece of knowledge which any well-cultivated mind may acquire in a day. In 1807, Sir Humphry Davy prosecuted his inquiry into the alkaline metals with such inordinate eagerness, that, through excitement and fatigue, he contracted a dangerous fever, which he, in ignorance of the human physiology, ascribed to contagion caught in experimenting on the fumigation of hospitals. His physician was at no loss to trace it to his habits of study, which were such as would have soon worn out a frame much more robust. Davy at this time spent all the earlier part of the day in his laboratory, surrounded by persons of every rank, whose admiration of his experiments added to his excitement. Individuals of the highest distinction "contended for the honour of his company to dinner, and he did not possess sufficient resolution to resist the gratification thus afforded, though it generally happened that his pursuits in the laboratory were not suspended until the appointed dinner hour had passed. On his return in the evening, he resumed his chemical labours, and commonly continued them till three or four in the morning, and yet the servants of the establishment not unfrequently found that he had risen before them."" Over-tasked nature at length yielded under his exertions, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he was restored to health. Excessive application is known to have in like manner thrown Boerhaave into a species of delirium for six weeks, and to have on one occasion given a severe shock to the health of Newton. It unquestionably cut short the days of Sir Walter Scott, and also of the celebrated Weber, whose mournful exclamation in the midst of his numerous engagements can never be forgotten-"Would that I were a tailor, for then I should have a Sunday's holiday!" The premature extinction of early prodigies of genius is generally traceable to the same cause. We read that, while all other children played, they remained at home to study, and then we learn that they perished in the bud, and baulked the hopes of all their admiring friends. The ignorant wonder is of course always the greater, when life is broken short in the midst of honourable undertakings. We wonder at the inscru table decrees which permit the idle and the dissolute to live, and remove the ardent benefactor of his kind, the hope of parents, the virtuous and the self-devoted; never reflecting that the highest moral and Paris's Life of Sir Humphry Davy, p. 183. intellectual qualities avail nothing in repairing or warding off a decided injury to the physical system, which is regulated by an entirely distinct code of laws. The conduct of the Portuguese sailors in a storm, when, instead of working the vessel properly, they employ themselves in paying vows to their saints, is just as rational as most of the notions which prevail on this subject, in the most enlightened circles of British society. The if he can fulfil the purposes of a rational being, and secure more of aggregate happiness in a place somewhat beneath that which circumstances have induced him to think appropriate to his merit, he will only be acting like a rational being if he contents himself with it. The grand error is in supposing that we must live thus, that we must bear such appearances, that we must attract this degree of respect and admiration from those around us; there is nothing but a miserable When Sir Philip Sydney was at Frankfort, he was vanity at the bottom of all these self-sacrifices, ultiadvised by the celebrated printer Languet, in the mate and real advantages being forfeited, and even midst of his studies not to neglect his health, "lest he life itself thrown away, for the sake of a little imme. should resemble a traveller who, during a long jour-diate glorification. Not much better is the motive of ney, attends to himself, but not to his horse." those who, like Leyden, tell their physicians that, at body may indeed be well likened to a horse and the whatever hazard, they must attain a certain degree of mind to its rider, for the one is the vehicle of the eminence in letters or science. Such declarations can other; and whatever be the object of the journey, whe- only be traced to the desire of making themselves obther to perform the most generous actions, or engage jects of wonder, for the world, whatever may have been in the most patriotic enterprises, the animal will sink its indifference and hostility to its greatest benefactors, under excessive labour or inadequate nutrition; there was never so unreasonable as to ask that any indivibeing only this important difference, that with the dual should sacrifice himself for its sake. In neither horse the rider sinks also, as their existence cannot be case, in short, is there any compulsion, beyond the imseparated without death. Suppose we were setting pulse of an ill-regulated will. out with one horse upon a journey of five hundred miles, which we were informed could not be rightly performed in less than ten days; and suppose that, instead of allowing ourselves that time, we were to endeavour to accomplish the distance in five, by riding a hundred miles a-day. Perhaps the horse might ride the first hundred miles within the first day, but be totally unable to move more than ten or twenty for other six, and be seriously injured after all. Such an act of imprudence would strike every mind as most discreditable to the traveller; and yet we daily see men compelling the subject body to undergo tasks relatively as severe, and attended with equally fatal effects, without tracing the error to its source, or visiting the guilty individual with reprobation. The general ignorance of the laws of our organisation at once induces the self-murder, and protects the suicide from the appropriate verdict. It ought to be universally made known, by means of education-and for this purpose the best-informed amongst us would require to go back to school-that the uses of our intellectual nature are not to be properly realised without a just regard to the laws of that perishable frame with which it is connected; that, in cultivating the mind, we must neither overtask nor undertask the body, neither push it to too great a speed, nor leave it neglected; and that, notwithstanding this intimate connection and mutual dependence, the highest merits on the part of the mind will not compensate for muscles mistreated, or sooth a nervous system which severe study has tortured into insanity. To come to detail, it ought to be impressed on all, that to spend more than a moderate number of hours in mental exercise diminishes insensibly the powers of future application, and tends to abbreviate life; that no mental exercise should be attempted immediately after meals, as the processes of thought and of digestion cannot be safely prosecuted together; and that, without a due share of exercise to the whole of the mental faculties, there can be no soundness in any, while the whole corporeal system will give way beneath a severe pressure upon any one in particular. These are truths completely established with physiologists, and upon which it is undeniable that a great portion of human happiness depends. Let us hope, then, that, amidst the improvements of the ensuing age, will be that most important one, an exposition, before every human being in the course of his education, of the laws which govern his constitution, so mysteriously composed of the mental and the material, and the inculcation of better views than what at present obtain respecting the ends of his present existence; so that he may learn to avoid the great error of the passing age, an exclusive devotion to ob jects only calculated to gratify the middle and lower orders of our faculties, and which, prosecuted with a solicitude ruinous alike to the body and the mind, tend grievously to curtail that happiness which, to whatever deductions it may be occasionally liable, has been designed to be enjoyed by all the tenants of this sublunary sphere. NATURAL HISTORY OF THE SPONGE. [From Dr Roget's Bridgewater Treatise.] AMONG Zoophytes, the lowest station in the scale of organisation is occupied by the tribes of porifera, the name given by Dr Grant to the animals which form the various species of sponge, and which are met with in such multitudes on every rocky coast of the ocean, from the shores of Greenland to those of Australia. Sponges grow to a larger size within the tropics, and are found to be more diminutive, and of a firmer texture, as we approach the polar circles. Dr Grant observes, that they are met with equally in places covered perpetually by the sea, as in those which are left dry at every recess of the tide. They adhere to and spread over the surface of rocks and marine animals, to which moved without lacerating and injuring their bodies. they are so firmly attached, that they cannot be re"Although they thrive best," he farther remarks, "in the sheltered cavities of rocks, they come to maturity in situations exposed to the unbroken fury of the surge. They cover the nakedness of cliffs and fleece the walls of submarine caves, or hang in living boulders; they line with a variegated and downy stalactites from the roof." In their general appearance they resemble many kinds of plants, but in their internal organisation they differ entirely from every vegetable production; being composed of a soft flesh, intermixed with a tissue of fibres, some of which are solid, others tubular; and the whole being interwoven together into a curious and complicated network. The substance of which this solid portion, or basis, is formed, is composed partly of horn, and partly of siliceous or calcareous matter. It has been termed the axis of the zoophyte; It may be objected, that the mere diffusion of knowand as it supports the softer substance of the animal, ledge will avail little in checking excessive application it may be regarded as performing the office of a sketo business and study, so long as the inducements to leton, giving form and protection to the entire fabric. The material of which the fleshy portion is comthat excessive application press with more immediate force on the generality of men than the dread of any posed is of so tender and gelatinous a nature, that the threatened result. The slave of business feels him-slightest pressure is sufficient to tear it asunder, and allow the fluid parts to escape; and the whole soon self, as he thinks, compelled thus to overdraw his melts away into a thin oily liquid. When examined bank account with nature, in order to maintain his with the microscope, the soft flesh is seen to contain a great number of minute grains, disseminated position in the commercial world or in society; and the intellectual slave, perhaps, in addition to similar through a transparent jelly. Every part of the surface of a living sponge presents to the eye two kinds inducements, enjoys in his midnight studies so much of orifices; the larger having a rounded shape, and real pleasure, that he could hardly be brought to pre- generally raised margins, which form projected pafer a longer life under other circumstances. But fore- pillæ; the smaller being much more numerous, and sight is one of the grand characteristics of man, as a exceedingly minute, and constituting what are termed the pores of the sponge. means of protecting himself from misery and securing his happiness; and he must be little of a proficient either in trade or philosophy, who would deliberately prefer present pleasure, or avoid present annoyance, as one, to the enjoyment of future good, and the avoid. ance of future evil, as two. No man is compelled to maintain himself in any particular place in society: stand where he please, an individual will always find equally worthy men both above and beneath him; and It has for a long time been the received opinion among naturalists that this superficial layer of gelatinous substance was endowed with a considerable power of contractility: it was generally believed that it shrunk from the touch, and that visible tremu. lous motions could be excited in it by punctures with sharp instruments, or other modes of irritation. It is extraordinary that errors like these should have crept into the writings of modern zoologists of the highest authority, such as Lamarck, Bruguiere, Gmelin, Bosc, and Lamouroux. The elaborate and accurate researches of Dr Grant on these subjects have at length dispelled the prevailing illusion, and have clearly proved that the sponge does not possess, in any sensible degree, that power of contraction which had for so many ages been ascribed to it. Dr Grant has also shown the true nature of the currents of fluid issuing at different points from the surface of these animals, as well as the absence of all visible movements in the orifices which give exit to the fluid. Never did he find, in his experiments, the slightest appearance of contraction produced in any part of the sponge, by puncturing, lacerating, burning, or otherwise injuring its texture, or by the application of corrosive chemical agents. Of his discovery of the fluid currents, he gives the following interesting account:-"I put a small branch of the Spongia coalita, with some sea-water, into a watchglass, un der the microscope, and on reflecting the light of a candle through the fluid, I soon perceived that there was some intestine motion in the opaque particles floating through the water. On moving the watch. glass, so as to bring one of the apertures on the side of the sponge fully into view, I beheld, for the first time, the splendid spectacle of this living fountain, vomiting forth, from a circular cavity, an impetuous torrent of liquid matter, and hurling along, in rapid succession, opaque masses, which it strewed every where around. The beauty and novelty of such a scene in the animal kingdom long arrested my attention; but after twenty-five minutes of constant observation, I was obliged to withdraw my eye from fatigue, without having seen the torrent for one instant change its direction, or diminish, in the slightest degree, the rapidity of its course. I continued to watch the same orifice, at short intervals, for five hours, sometimes observing it for a quarter of an hour at a time, but still the stream rolled on with a constant and equal velocity." About the end of this time, however, the current became languid, and, in the course of another hour, it ceased entirely. Similar currents were afterwards observed by Dr Grant in a great variety of species. They take place only from those parts that are under water, and immediately cease when the same parts are uncovered, or when the animal dies. It thus appears that the round apertures in the surface of a living sponge are destined for the discharge of a constant stream of water from the interior of the body; carrying away particles, which separate from the sides of the canals, and which are not only seen, under the microscope, constantly issuing from these orifices, but may even be perceived by the naked eye, propelled occasionally in larger masses. For the supply of these constant streams, it is evident that a large quantity of water must be continually received into the body of the sponge. It is by the myriads of minute pores, which exist in every part of the surface, that this water enters, conveying with it the materials necessary for the subsistence of the animal. These pores conduct the fluid into the inte rior, where, after percolating through the numerous channels of communication which pervade the substance of the body, it is collected into wider passages, terminating in the fecal orifices above described, and these currents are produced is involved in much obis finally discharged. The mechanism by which scurity. There can be no doubt that they are occasioned by some internal movements; and the analogy of other zoophytes would lead us to ascribe them to the action of fibrils, or cilia, as they are termed, the streams pass; but these cilia have hitherto eluded projecting from the sides of the canals through which observation, even with the highest powers of the microscope. The organisation of sponges is as regular and determinate as that of any other animal structure, and presents as systematic an arrangement of parts. In some species, such as the common sponge, the basis is horny and elastic, and composed of cylindric tubes, which open into each other, and thus form continuous canals throughout the whole mass. Others have a kind of skeleton, composed of a tissue of needle-shaped crystals of carbonate of lime, or of silex. These hard and sharp-pointed fibres, or spicula, are disposed around the internal canals of the sponge, in the order best calculated to defend them from compression, and from the entrance of foreign bodies; but their forms, although constant in each species, admit of considerable diversity in the different kinds of sponge. Although sponges, in common with the greater number of zoophytes, are permanently attached to rocks, and other solid bodies in the ocean, and are consequently destined to an existence as completely stationary as that of plants, yet such is not the condition of the earlier and more transitory stages of their developement. Nature, ever solicitous to provide for the multiplication of each race of beings, and for their dissemination over the habitable globe, has always provided effectual means for the accomplishment of these important ends. The seeds of plants are either scattered in the immediate neighbourhood of the parent, and take root in the adjacent soil, or are carried to more distant situations by the wind or other agents. In the animal kingdom, the young offspring of those races which are endowed with a wide range of activity, are reared on the spot where they were produced, either by the fostering care of the parent, or by means of the nourishment with which they are surrounded in the egg, and there re miniature representation of its parent. main until the period when, by the acquisition or ex-in diameter, it presents, through the microscope, a THE THREE ADVICES. [By T. Crofton Croker, Esq. F.S.A.] Thus has a power of spontaneous motion been given to what may be regarded as the embryo condition of animals, which are afterwards so remarkable for their inertness, and for the privation of all active powers: and this has been conferred evidently for the purpose of their being widely disseminated over the globe. Had not this apparatus of moving cilia been provided to the gemmules of such species as hang vertically from the roofs of caves, they would have sunk to the bottom of the water, and been crushed or buried The parts of the Spongia panicea, which are natu- among the moving sand, instead of supporting them rally transparent, contain at certain seasons a multi-selves while carried to a distance by the waves and tides of the ocean. Many species which abound in tude of opaque yellow spots, visible to the naked eye, and which, when examined by means of a microscope, the Red Sea and Indian Ocean have in this way are found to consist of groups of ova, or more properly been gradually transported, by the gulf stream, from the shores of the East to corresponding latitudes of gemmules, since we cannot discover that they are furnished with any envelope. In the course of a few the New World. months, these gemmules enlarge in size, each assuming an oval or pear-like shape, and are then seen projecting from the sides of the internal canals of the parent, to which they adhere by their narrow extremities. In process of time, they become detached, one after the other, and are swept along by the currents of fluid, which are rapidly passing out of the larger orifices. When thus set at liberty, they do not sink by their gravity to the bottom of the water, as would have happened had they been devoid of life; but they continue to swim, by their own spontaneous a moral character which I remember to have heard. motions, for two or three days after their separation It was told to me by a professional story-teller, whose from the parent. In their progression through the diction I have endeavoured to preserve, although his fluid, they are observed always to carry their rounded soubriquet of "Paddreen Trelagh," or Paddy the broad extremity forwards. On examining this part Vagabond, from his wandering life, was not a particuwith the microscope, we find that it is covered with larly appropriate title for a moralist. The tale is cershort filaments, or cilia, which are in constant and tainly very ancient, and has probably found its way rapid vibration. These cilia are spread over about into Ireland from Wales, as it appears to be an amtwo-thirds of the surface of the body, leaving the nar-plification of a Bardic "Triad of Wisdom." rower portion, which has a whiter and more pellucid appearance, uncovered. They are very minute transparent filaments, broadest at their base, and tapering to invisible points at their extremities; they strike the water by a rapid succession of inflexions, apparently made without any regular order, but conspiring to give an impulse in a particular direction. When the body is attached by its tail, or narrow end, to some fixed object, the motion of the cilia on the fore part of the body determines a current of fluid to pass in a direction backwards, or towards the tail; but when they are floating in the water, the same action propels them forwards in the opposite direction, that is, with the broad ciliated extremity foremost. They thus advance, without appearing to have any definite object, by a slow gliding motion, totally unlike the zig-zag course of animalcules in search of prey. Yet they appear to have a consciousness of impressions made on them; for on striking against each other, or meeting any obstacle, they retard a little the motion of their cilia, wheel for a few seconds round the spot, and then, renewing the vibrations, proceed in their former course. In about two or three days after these gemmules have quitted the body of the parent, they are observed to fix themselves on the sides or bottom of the vessel in which they are contained; and some of them are found spread out, like a thin circular membrane, on the surface of the water. In the former case, they adhere firmly by their narrow extremity, which is seen gradually to expand itself laterally, so as to form a broad base of attachment. While this is going on, the cilia are still kept in rapid motion on the upper part, scattering the opaque particles which may happen to be in the fluid to a certain distance around. But these motions soon become languid, and in the course of a few hours cease; and the cilia being no longer wanted, disappear. The gemmule then presents the appearance of a flattened disk, containing granules, like the flesh of the parent sponge, and also several spicula interspersed through the central part. In less than twenty-four hours, a transparent colourless margin has extended round the whole gemmule, and continues to surround it during its future growth. The spicula, which were at first small, confined to the central part, and not exceeding twenty in number, now become much larger and more numerous; and some of them shoot into the thin homogeneous margin. It is a remarkable circumstance that the spicula make their appearance completely formed, as if by a sudden act of crystallisation, and never afterwards increase their dimensions. There once came, what of late happened so often in Ireland, a hard year. When the crops failed, there was beggary and misfortune from one end of the island to the other. At that time a great many poor people had to quit the country from want of employment, and through the high price of provisions. Among others, John Carson was under the necessity of going over to England, to try if he could get work; and of leaving his wife and family behind him, begging for a bite and a sup up and down, and trusting to the charity of good Christians. John was a smart young fellow, handy at any work, from the hay-field to the stable, and willing to earn the bread he ate; and he was soon engaged by a gentleman. The English are mighty strict upon Irish servants; he was to have twelve guineas a-year wages, but the money was not to be paid until the end of the year, and he was to forfeit the entire twelve guineas in the lump, if he misconducted himself in any way within the twelve months. John Carson was to be sure upon his best behaviour, and conducted himself in every particular so well for the whole time, there was no faulting him late or early, and the wages were fairly his. The term of his agreement being expired, he determined on returning home, notwithstanding his mas ter, who had a great regard for him, pressed him to remain, and asked him if he had any reason to be dis satisfied with his treatment. "No reason in life, sir," said John; "you've been John saw no reason to think that his master was jesting with him, or was insincere in making the of not. "Then listen attentively to my words," said the gentleman. "First I would teach you this-Never to take a byeroad when you have the highway.' Secondly Take heed not to lodge in the house John set out for Ireland the next morning early; but he had not proceeded far, before he overtook two He en pedlars who were travelling the same way. tered into conversation with them, and found them a pair of merry fellows, who proved excellent company on the road. Now it happened, towards the end of their day's journey, when they were all tired with walking, that they came to a wood, through which there was a path that shortened the distance to the town they were going towards, by two miles. The pedlars advised John to go with them through the wood; but he refused to leave the highway, telling them, at the same time, he would meet them again at a certain house in the town, where travellers put up. John was willing to try the worth of the advice which his master had given him, and he arrived in safety, and took up his quarters at the appointed place. While he was eating his supper, an old man came hobbling into the kitchen, and gave orders about dif ferent matters there, and then went out again. John would have taken no particular notice of this; but, immediately after, a young woman, young enough to be the old man's daughter, came in, and gave orders exactly the contrary of what the old man had given, calling him at the same time a great many hard names such as old fool, and old dotard, and so on. When she was gone, John inquired who the old man was. "He is the landlord," said the servant; "and, heaven help him! a dog's life he has led since he married his last wife." "What!" said John, with surprise, "is that young woman the landlord's wife! I see I must not remain in this house to-night;" and, tired as he was, he got up to leave it, but went no farther than the door before he met the two pedlars, all cut and bleeding, coming in, for they had been robbed and almost murdered in the wood. John was very sorry to see them in that condition, and advised them not to lodge in the house, telling them, with a significant nod, that all was not right there; but the poor pedlars were so weary and so bruised, that they would stop where they were, and disregarded the advice. Rather than remain in the house, John retired to the stable, and laid himself down upon a bundle of straw, where he slept soundly for some time. About the middle of the night, he heard two persons come into the stable, and on listening to their conversation, discovered that it was the landlady and a man laying a plan how to murder her husband. In the morning John renewed his journey; but at the next town he came to, he was told that the landlord in the town he had left had been murdered, and that two pedlars, whose clothes were found all covered with blood, had been taken up for the crime, and were going to be hanged. John, without mentioning what he had overheard to any person, determined to save the pedlars if possible, and so returned in order to attend their trial. On going into the court, he saw the two men at the bar; and the young woman and the man, whose voice he had heard in the stable, swearing their innocent lives away. But the judge allowed him to give his evidence, and he told every particular of what had occurred. The man and the young woman instantly confessed their guilt; the poor pedlars were at once be paid to John Carson, as through his means the acquitted; and the judge ordered a large reward to real murderers were brought to justice. John now proceeded towards home, fully convinced of the value of two of the advices which his master had given him. On arriving at his cabin, he found his wife and children rejoicing over a purse full of gold which the eldest boy had picked up on the road that morning. Whilst he was away, they had endured all the miseries which the wretched families of those who go over to seek work in England are exposed to. With precarious food, without a bed to lie down on, or a roof to shelter them, they had wandered through the country, seeking food from door to door of a starving population: and when a single potato was bestowed, showering down blessings and thanks on the giver, not in the set phrases of the mendicant, but in a burst of eloquence too fervid not to gush direct from the heart. Those only who have seen a family of such beggars as I describe, can fancy the joy with which the poor woman welcomed her husband back, and informed him of the purse full of gold. "And where did Mick, my boy, find it ?" inquire John Carson. "It was the young squire, for certain, who dropped it," said his wife; for he rode down the road this morning, and was leaping his horse in the very gap where Micky picked it up; but sure, John, he as money enough besides, and never the halfpenny ve I to buy my poor childer a bit to eat this b. Led night." When two gemmules, in the course of their spreading on the surface of a watchglass, come into contact with each other, their clear margins unite without the least interruption; they thicken and produce spicula: in a few days we can detect no line of distinction between them, and they continue to grow as one animal. The same thing happens, according to the observation of Cavolini, to adult sponges, which, on coming into mutual contact, grow together, and form an inseparable union. In this species of animal grafting we again find an analogy between the constitution of you have done so, and I charge you to be careful of brought every step of the way with me from Eng. zoophytes and that of plants. In the course of a few weeks, the spicula are assembled in groups, similar to those of the parent sponge, assuming circular arrangements, and presenting distinct openings at the points they enclose. The young animal now rapidly spreads and enlarges in every direction, becoming more convex, and at the same time more opaque, and more compact in its texture; and before it has attained the tenth of an inch "There are the Three Advices I would pay you with; and they are in value far beyond any gold; however, here is a guinea for your travelling charges, and two cakes, one of which you must give to your wife, and the other you must not eat yourself until them." It was not without some reluctance on the part of John Carson that he was brought to accept mere words for wages, or could be persuaded that they were more precious than golden guineas. His faith in his master was however so strong, that he at length became satisfied. From Friendship's Offering, 1828. "Never mind that," said John; "do as I bid you, and take up the purse at once to the big house, and ask for the young squire. I have two cakes which I land, and they will do for the children's supper. I ought surely to remember, as good right I have, what my master told me for my twelvemonth's wages, seeing I never, as yet, found what he said to be wrong." "And what did he say ?" inquired his wife. "That honesty is the best policy," answered John. "Tis very well, and 'tis mighty easy for them to say so that have never been sore tempted, by distress "If you knew but all," said she, "I am an honest woman, for I've brought a purse full of gold to the young master, that my little boy picked up by the roadside; for surely it is his, as nobody else could have so much money." "Let me see it," said the servant. "Ay, it's all right-I'll take care of it-you need not trouble yourself any more about the matter ;" and so saying, he slapped the door in her face. When she returned, her husband produced the two cakes which his master gave him on parting; and breaking one to divide | between his children, how was he astonished at finding six golden guineas in it; and when he took the other and broke it, he found as many more! He then remembered the words of his generous master, who desired him to give one of the cakes to his wife, and not to eat the other himself until that time; and this was the way his master took to conceal his wages, lest Le should have been robbed, or have lost the money on the road. The following day, as John was standing near his cabin-door, and turning over in his own mind what he should do with his money, the young squire came riding down the road. John pulled off his hat, for he had not forgot his manners through the means of his travelling to foreign parts, and then made so bold as to inquire if his honour had got the purse he lost. “ Why, it is true enough, my good fellow," said the squire, I did lose my purse yesterday, and I hope you were lucky enough to find it; for if that is your cabin, you seem to be very poor, and shall keep it as a reward for your honesty." "Then the servant up at the big house never gave it to your honour last night after taking it from Nance-she's my wife, your honour-and telling her it was all right?" "Oh, I must look into this business," said the squire. "Did you say your wife, my poor man, gave my purse to a servant to what servant ?" "I can't tell his name rightly," said John, "because I don't know it; but never trust Nance's eyes again if she can't point him out to your honour, if so your honour is desirous of knowing." "Then do you and Nance, as you call her, come up to the hall this evening, and I'll inquire into the matter, I promise you." So saying, the squire rode off. John and his wife went up accordingly in the evening, and he gave a small rap with the big knocker at the great door. The door was opened by a grand servant, who, without hearing what the poor people had to say, exclaimed, "Oh, go!-go-what busi ness can you have here?" and shut the door. John's wife burst out crying-"There," said she, sobbing as if her heart would break, “I knew that would be the end of it." But John had not been in merry England merely to get his twelve guineas packed in two cakes. "No," said he firmly, "right is right, and I'll see the end of it." So he sat himself down on the step of the door, determined not to go until he saw the young squire; and, as it happened, it was not long before he came out. "I have been expecting you some time, John," said he; "come in and bring your wife in ;" and he made them go before him into the house. Immediately he directed all the servants to come up stairs; and such an army of them as there was! It was a real sight to see them. "Which of you," said the young squire, without making further words, “ which of you all did this honest woman give my purse to ?"-but there was no answer. ، Well, I suppose she must be mistaken, unless she can tell herself." 66 John's wife at once pointed her finger towards the head footman; "there he is," said she, "if all the world were to the fore-clargyman, magistrate, judge, jury, and all-there he is, and I'm ready to take my bible-oath to him-there he is who told me it was all right when he took the purse, and slammed the door in my face, without as much as thank ye for it." The conscious footman turned pale. "What is this I hear?" said his master. "If this woman gave you my purse, William, why did you not give it to me ?" The servant stammered out a denial; but his master insisted on his being searched, and the purse was found in his pocket. "John," said the gentleman, turning round, "you shall be no loser by this affair. Here are ten guineas for you; go home now, but I will not forget your wife's honesty." Within a month, John Carson was settled in a nice new-slated house, which the squire had furnished and made ready for him. What with his wages, and the reward he got from the judge, and the ten guineas for returning the purse, he was well to do in the world, and was soon able to stock a small farm, where he lived respected all his days. On his deathbed, he gave his children the very Three Advices which his master Never to take a byeroad when they could follow the highway. Never to lodge in the house where an old man was married to a young woman. And, above all, to remember that honesty is the best policy. BIOGRAPHIC SKETCHES. ROBERT DODSLEY. licacy of later times had condemned to obscurity, on account of some peculiarities in a great measure external. In the present age, which is honourably distinguished by a revived relish of the beauties of the Elizabethan literature, the effort made by the subject of our memoir to resuscitate a portion of it, will meet with due appreciation. Animated by a spirit of ad. venture, uncommon in his own time, he published, in 1744, a Collection of Plays by Old Authors, in twelve volumes duodecimo, prefaced by a history of the stage, and illustrated by biographical and critical notes; the whole being dedicated to Sir C. C. Dormer, to whom THE subject of this short memoir claims our respect Mr Dodsley acknowledges great obligations for the use of materials. The work was reprinted in 1780, as a very remarkable example of genius, accompanied by Mr Isaac Reed, and once more, in 1825, on each by the most valuable attributes of character, rising occasion with some important improvements and nefrom the humblest walk in life, and finally attaining cessary additions; but no one was more sensible, or distinction and fortune, without exciting either envy | value of Mr Dodsley's labours, than the erudite anticould have more generously expressed his sense of the in those who were left behind, or jealousy in those quary just named. Another of the more valuable who were rivalled. He was born, in 1703, at Mansworks projected by Dodsley was The Preceptor, first field in Nottinghamshire, and received only such a li- published in 1749, and designed to embrace what was mited education as his parents, who were in very poor then thought a complete course of education. It concircumstances, could afford. He commenced life as tained treatises on reading, elocution, and composition; on arithmetic, geometry, and architecture; on geofootman to the Honourable Mrs Lowther, and, by his graphy and astronomy; on chronology and history; good conduct in that capacity, was as successful in ob- on rhetoric and poetry; on drawing; on logic; on taining the esteem of those around him, as he ever natural history; on ethics, or morality; on trade and was afterwards, when he had moved into more impor-life and manners; each being the composition of some commerce; on laws and government; and on human tant positions in society. Having employed his leiperson eminent in the branch of knowledge to which sure time in cultivating his intellect, he began at an it referred. Dodsley's Preceptor attained a high po. early age to write verses, which, being shown to his pularity, and in the course of a few years went superiors, were deemed so creditable to his abilities, through numerous editions. We shall here advert to that he was encouraged to publish them in a volume, a few of the other works originated by him, or in under the title of The Muse in Livery. This publi. which he acted as editor. A Collection of Poems by Eminent Hands, in six volumes, was commenced in cation was dedicated to his mistress, and came forth 1752, and presented for the first time to the world a under the patronage of a highly respectable list of sub-considerable number of the most admired poetical scribers. Such productions being then more rare than compositions of the age. In 1758, he commenced the they have since become, it was regarded as a kind of publication of an Annual Register, which was the first wonder. Dodsley afterwards entered the service of work of that kind that appeared in England. Several Mr Dartineuf, a noted voluptuary, and one of the in- of the earlier volumes were compiled by Burke, and timate friends of Pope; and having written a drama- the work has ever since been conducted with remark. tic piece called The Toyshop (founded upon a play the appearance of more than one rival. His Select able judgment, as well as success, notwithstanding of the preceding century), it was shown by his new Fables of Esop and other Fabulists appeared in 1760, master to that distinguished poet, who was so well and was at once pronounced a work of classical elepleased with it, that he took the author under his pro-gance. tection, and made interest for the appearance of the play upon the stage. The Toyshop was acted at Covent Garden in 1735, and met with the highest success. In a malignant epistle addressed about that time by Curll the bookseller to Pope, it is insinuated that this was owing to patronage alone. But nothing can seem more improbable than that Pope and his friends should be deceived as to the merit of this piece, or that they should interest them. selves about a production glaringly destitute of merit. In reality, The Toyshop is a very clever adaptation from The Muse's Looking Glass of Randolph, full of effective yet delicate satire, and supported by characters in the highest degree natural, and strikingly appropriate to the purpose of the piece. The profits arising from this play, and the distinction which it obtained for the author, were such as would have induced many men in the circumstances of Dodsley to venture upon the precarious, but in many respects tempting life of a "town-writer," or author by profession. With the sober and modest author of The Toyshop different considerations prevailed. Having resolved to enter upon some regular trade, he chose that of a bookseller, as the most appropriate to his taste, and that in which he might expect to turn the favour of his friends to the best account; and accordingly he opened a shop of that kind in Pall Mall. In this new situation, comparatively difficult as it may be supposed to have been, the same prudence and worth which had gained him esteem in his former condition, were not less strikingly exemplified. He was able to secure for himself and his establishment the countenance of many of the first literary persons of the day, including Pope, Chesterfield, Lyttleton, Shenstone, Johnson, and Glover, and also of many persons of rank who possessed a taste for letters; and thus, in the course of a few years, he became one of the principal persons of his trade in the metropolis. Proceeding at the same time in his career as an author, he wrote a farce entitled The King and the Miller of Mansfield, founded on an old ballad of that name, and referring to scenes with which he had been familiar in early life. This was produced at Drury Lane in 1737, and was so highly successful, that he was induced to write a less fortunate sequel, under the title of Sir John Cockle at Court. The former continues to be occasionally represented. His next dramatic performance was a farce, founded on a ballad, entitled The Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green, which was not attended with much success. His only other composition of this kind was Rex et Pontifex, which he designed as a novelty in pantomime, but which was never produced on the stage. The general character of his comic plays was pleasing; they had not what would now be called much strength, but they excelled the most of the contemporary productions of their class in morality. From an early period of life, Dodsley would seem to have had a taste for the almost forgotten drama of the reigns of Elizabeth and the two first Stuarts; a vast mine of poetical wealth, which the fastidious de | | | The first book contained ancient, the second modern, and the third original fables, the last being chiefly the composition of the editor. A prelimi. nary essay, also by him, was allowed to possess merit as a piece of criticism, being only challenged for one remark-namely, that the fox should not have been described in the fable as longing for grapes, because the appetite is not consistent with the known charac ter of the animal. Mr Dodsley was not aware that foxes in the east are characterised by a ravenous fondness for grapes, insomuch that the vines in Palestine, according to Dr Hasselquist, are often seriously injured by them. Solomon also says, in his Song ii. 15, "Take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines, for our vines have tender grapes." The original works written by Dodsley during the same period were not numerous. In 1748, he produced a loyal masque on the occasion of the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and, two years afterwards, a small prose work, entitled The Economy of Human Life, in which the social duties are treated in a style intended to resemble that of the Scriptures and other Oriental writings. Though the literary and philosophical merits of the latter work are not great, it attained great popularity, and became extensively useful among young persons, for whose instruction it was more par ticularly designed. Like other successful books, it was followed by numerous slavish imitations, such as the Economy of Female Life, the Economy of a Winter Day, the Second Part of the Economy of Human Life, the Economy of the Mind, and many other Economies. One book of a poem on Public Virtue, and an ode entitled Melpomene, next exercised his pen ; and in 1758 he ventured to rise to tragedy, and composed Cleone, the fable of which he derived from a French fiction. Though Garrick expressed a mean opinion of the play, and it was consequently taken to Covent Garden, it long drew full audiences, which was in part attributed to Mrs Bellamy's acting of the heroine. An attempt by Mrs Siddons to revive it did not succeed, owing, it is said, to the excess of pathos which it acquired from her unequalled performance in scenes of mater. nal distress. Dr Johnson admired Cleone so much as to say, that, if Otway had written it, no other of his pieces would have been remembered; which being reported to the author, he modestly said, "it was toc much." A less prepossessed critic allows it to be considerably inferior to the plays of Otway and Southern, but to be equal to any of the tragedies of the latter hal. of the eighteenth century, excepting Home's Douglas. A long and prosperous professional career enabled Mr Dodsley to retire from business, some years be. fore his death, with a large fortune, which, however, made no alteration upon his modest and amiable cha racter. His humble origin was neither a matter which he was anxious to conceal, nor a subject of vulgar boasting. He did not forget it, nor did he allow it to affect his deportment in a manner that could be disagreeable to others. Johnson mentions, that, on Dartineuf the epicure being introduced into Lord Lyttleton's Dialogues of the Dead, and the conversa tion turning one day upon that subject, Dodsley re |
