CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S HISTORICAL NEWSPAPER." No. 161. USE AND HAVE. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 28, 1835. EACH human being possesses about four hundred muscles, designed to serve him in performing the various acts of motion and exertion by which he is both literally and metaphorically to make his way in the world, and, besides these, he has a less number of mental faculties, operating through the medium of organisation, and by which he is enabled to experience various sentiments, conduct various intellectual operations, and direct and control the motions of his body. It is by no means very generally known, that each of these bodily and mental powers is capable of being increased in a very considerable degree by judicious use, while they will flag and diminish from inaction, and be injured in another way by exercise amounting to excess. Thus, though individuals have been constituted, each with a different amount of bodily and mental strength, it is placed within the power of those who have little, by exerting it properly, to make themselves equal to those who have originally had more, but have not used it so well. An explanation of the process by which exercise increases bodily power, is the only means we possess of impressing this invaluable truth. When any living part is called into activity, the processes of waste and renovation which are constantly going on in every part of the body, proceed with greater rapidity, and in due proportion to each other. To meet this condition, the vessels and nerves become excited to higher action, and the supply of arterial or nutritive blood and of nervous energy becomes greater. When the active exercise ceases, the excitement thus given to the vital functions subsides, and the vessels and nerves return at length to their original state. If the exer must be brought into exercise. The blacksmith, by In order, then, to maintain in a sound state the 1. In order that exercise may be truly advantage cise be resumed frequently, and at moderate intervals, ous, the parts must be in a state of sufficient health the increased action of the blood-vessels and nerves becomes more permanent, and does not sink to the same low degree as formerly; NUTRITION RATHER EXCEEDS WASTE in other words, what they take in exceeds what they give out and the part gains, consequently, in size, vigour, and activity. On the other hand, if exercise be refrained from, the vital functions decay from the want of their requisite stimulus; little blood is sent to the part, which in time becomes weakened, diminishes in size, and at last shrivels and alters so much in appearance, as not to be recognisable. Thus, if an artery-the large artery which supplies the arm with blood, for example-be tied, and the flow of the blood obstructed, a change of structure immediately begins, and goes on progressively, till, at the end of a few weeks, what was formerly a hollow elastic tube, presents the appearance of a stiff cord. If, again, excessive exertion be indulged in, the vital powers of the part are exhausted; waste exceeds nutrition, and a loss of native energy, if not some general effect of a fatal kind, is the consequence. These laws equally affect the bones, which might be supposed less liable to change from any such causes. If the bones be duly exercised in their business of administering to motion, the vessels which pervade them are fed more actively with blood, and they increase in dimensions, strength, and solidity. If they are not exercised, the stimulus required for the supply of blood to them becomes insufficient; imperfect nutrition takes place; and the consequences are, debility, softness, and unfitness for their office. It is ascer tained that bones may be so much softened by inaction, as to become susceptible of being cut by a knife. In a less degree, the same cause will produce distortion and bad health. It is of the utmost importance to observe, that the exercise of any particular limb does little besides improving the strength of that limb, and that, in order to increase our general strength, the whole frame to endure the exertion. A system weakened by dis- as already mentioned, a loss of energy, instead of a 2. Exercise, to be efficacious even in a healthy subject, 3. The waste occasioned by exercise must be duly replaced by food; as, if there be any deficiency in PRICE THREE HALFPENCE. this important requisite, the blood will soon cease to give that invigoration to the parts upon which increased health and strength depend. Having thus explained the laws and regulations by which exercise may be serviceable to the physical system, we shall proceed to show that the same rules hold good respecting the mental faculties. These, as is generally allowed, however immaterial in one sense, are connected organically with the brain-a portion of the animal system nourished by the same blood, and regulated by the same vital laws, as the muscles, bones, and nerves. As, by disuse, muscle becomes emaciated, bone softens, blood-vessels are obliterated, and nerves lose their natural structure, so, by disuse, does the brain fall out of its proper state, and create misery to its possessor; and as, by over-exertion, the waste of the animal system exceeds the supply, and debility and unsoundness are produced, so, by over.exer tion, are the functions of the brain liable to be deranged and destroyed. The processes are physiologically the same, and the effects bear an exact relation to each other. As with the bodily powers, the mental are to be increased in magnitude and energy, by a degree of exercise measured with a just regard to their ordinary health, and native or habitual energies. Corresponding, moreover, to the influence which the mind has in giving the nervous stimulus so useful in bodily exercise, is the dependence of the mind upon the body for supplies of healthy nutriment. And in like manner with the bodily functions, each mental faculty is only to be strengthened by the exercise of itself in particular. The power of tracing effect to cause, the power of perceiving the resemblances of things, the sentiments of justice and benevolence, the desire of admiration and the inclination to friendship-in short, every primitive faculty, every part of our intellectual and moral nature, stands, in this respect, exactly in the same situation with the blacksmith's right arm, and the lower limbs of the inhabitants of Paris: each must be exercised for its own sake. The fatal effects of the disuse of the mental faculties are strikingly observable in persons who have the misfortune to be solitarily confined, many of whom become insane, or at least weak in their intellects. It is also observable in the deaf and blind, among whom, from the non-employment of a number of the faculties, weakness of mind and idiocy are more prevalent than among other people. "It is indeed a frequent predisposing cause of every form of nervous disease; and for evidence of this position, we have only to look at the numerous victims to be found among females of the middle and higher ranks, who have no call to exertion in gaining the means of subsistence, and no objects of interest on which to exercise their mental faculties, and who consequently sink into a state of mental sloth and nervous weakness, which not only deprives them of much enjoyment, but lays them open to suffering, both of mind and body, from the slight est causes. If we look abroad upon society, we shall find innu. merable examples of mental and nervous debility from this cause. When a person of some mental capacity is confined for a long time to an unvarying round of employment, which affords neither scope nor stimulus for one-half of his faculties, and, from want of education, or society, has no external resources, his mental powers, for want of exercise to keep up due vitality in their cerebral organs, become blunted, and his perceptions slow and dull, and he feels any unusual subjects of thought as disagreeable and painful intrusions. Under such circumstances, the intellect and feelings either become weak and inactive, or work upon themselves, and become diseased. In the former case, the mind becomes apathetic, and possesses no ground of sympathy with its fellow-creatures; in the latter, it becomes unduly sensitive, and shrinks within itself and its own limited circle, as its only protection against every trifling occurrence or mode of action which has not relation to itself. A desire to continue an unwearied round of life takes strong possession of the mind; because to come forth into society requires an exertion of faculties which have been long dormant, and cannot be awakened without pain, and which are felt to be feeble when called into action. In such a state, home and its immediate interests become not only the centre, which they ought to be, but also the boundary of life; and the mind, originally constituted to embrace a much wider sphere, is thus shorn of its powers, and the tone of mental and bodily health is lowered, till a total inaptitude for the business of life and the ordinary intercourse of society comes on, and often increases till it becomes a positive malady." The loss of power and health of mind from imperfect or partial exercise of the faculties, is frequently observable in the country clergy, in retired merchants, in annuitants, in the clerks of public offices, and in tradesmen whose professions comprehend a very limited range of objects. If the latter descriptions of persons escape actual nervous disease, they generally become tame and innocent humorists. The Scotch, as a nation, are much more addicted to employing their minds on objects beyond the scope of their professions, than the English, who indeed are more generally accustomed to concentrate their energies upon certain fields of business, than any other people in the world. It will perhaps be acknowledged, by those who have observed the national mind in both countries, that, as a consequence of the law here laid down, the English are found, in their unoccupied moments, to betray more odd and unexpected peculiarities of character-more humorism, it may be said than their northern neighbours. There is no class, however, in whom the evil is more widely observable than in those females, who, either from ignorance of the laws of exercise, or from inveterate habit, spend their lives in unbroken seclusion, and in the performance of a limited range of duties. All motive is there wanting. No immediate object of solicitude ever presents itself. Fixing their thoughts entirely on themselves, and constantly brooding over a few narrow and trivial ideas, they at length approach a state little removed from insanity, or are only saved from that, perhaps, by the false and deluding relief afforded by stimulating liquors. In general, the education of such persons has given them only a few accomplishments, calculated to afford employment to one or two of the minor powers of the mind, while all that could have engaged the reflecting powers has been omitted. Education, if properly conducted-if it were only, indeed, to impress upon them so simple but so useful a truth as what is developed in this paper-would go far to prevent the evils which befall this unfortunate part of the community. Excessive exercise of the brain, by propelling too much blood to it, and unduly distending the vessels, is equally injurious with its disuse. Immoderate use of the eyes is not more certainly, though a little more observably, followed by an overcharging of the vessels, than the immoderate use of the equally delicate organs within. The error is peculiarly fatal in early life, when the structure of the brain is still immature; and it is quite as possible, by urging children too fast in their school tasks, to communicate disease to the brain, as, by premature walking, to occasion distortion of the limbs. In the absolute ignorance of the laws of the human constitution which at present prevails in all departments of society, it is not wonderful that the most ingenious youth, and adults of the highest and most cultivated powers, often ruin their health by too severe study, unalleviated by bodily exercise. That even the greatest genius of modern times should have accelerated his death by over-tasking his intellect, is not surprising. The only wonder is, that the evil arising from neglect of the organic laws is not greater than it is at present observed to be. If the reader have carefully followed the preceding arguments, and acknowledged their force, he will require nothing farther to convince him that the maxim, USE AND HAVE, acted upon with a due regard to circumstances, is true in respect of both the body and the mind. It is a principle evidently in accordance with both the general and particular designs which have presided over the creation of man; for it is at once an incentive to that activity which is so important a part of his terrestrial destiny, and a means by which particular parts of his constitution may be in-ity for his intromissions to the extent of twenty thoucreased in power, capacity, and aptitude, for special sand pounds. Delighted as Crompton was with this ends. It is scarcely less clear that this principle has agreeable prospect held out to him, he felt considerbeen designed as a benevolent palliative of that par-ably at a loss with respect to the matter of the setiality in the distribution of the native powers, which friend of his father, and one by whom he was also well curity, till he bethought himself of applying to the old has been, for wise purposes, made a general rule in known, Mr Jonathan Travis. On making this state the human creation: according to this arrangement, of his affairs known to the object of his visit, Mr Tranone have been condemned to a fixed and hopeless vis for a moment felt stunned with the proposition, but his wonted benevolence of disposition immediately certainty as to the amount of their natural gifts, but rallied, and he listened with too willing an ear to the are enabled, by the comparative use to which they demand which was made upon him. Crompton momay put their talents, in other words, by the com- destly urged the length of time his family had been parative obedience which they may pay to a funda. known to him, his character for steadiness and unimmental law of their being, to advance to something exertion in the world, and the dependence that might peachable integrity, his anxiety to rise by honourable better.* be placed upon him. The sum he represented as of no consequence, even were it trebled, since he would never hear any thing of it, while by such a trifling circumstance as adding his signature to the deed, an everlasting obligation would be conferred. THE MAN WHO COULD NOT SAY-NO! A STORY OF REAL LIFE. ONE of the most striking instances of a great and virtuous mind struggling heroically with adversity, which ever came under our observation, was exemplified in the conduct of a once wealthy merchant, whose misfortunes are still held in remembrance in the It is a matter of deep regret that at this point of the conference Mr Travis did not at once say in a polite but decided manner that he could not think of entering into so very serious an engagement. But he was a man who could not say-No! He subscribed equalled the extent of his fortune. Yet his visitor had the document presented to him, giving it a value that no sooner departed than he began to be alarmed at the step he had just taken. He could not banish his act of imprudence from his mind. The consciousness of having committed himself so deeply, without the concurrence of his wife, and without any security against mischance, intruded on his busy hours, and usurped those which ought to have been devoted to repose; the transaction ever presenting its most fearful consequences to his mind. These consequences were not long in being felt. It appears that young Crompton south of England. Mr Jonathan Travis, to whom we here allude, had realised a competent fortune in trade in the town of Bridport, and after years of honourable exertion he retired from the busy scenes of life to a neat and ornamental villa in one of the most pleasing parts of Hampshire. Mr Travis carried with him to this retreat a character more than ordinarily free from stain. By those who knew him, he was often styled "Honest Jonathan Travis," a designation which followed him to that part of the country was not originally depraved in disposition. His only where he took up his residence, and where he soon failing seemed to be a love of gaiety and dress, inconacquired weight and consideration among his neigh-sistent, as one would suppose, with the monotony of bours. his occupations. This failing, however, was hardly developed while he filled an inferior situation; it was only when he was promoted that he began to indulge in expensive amusements, and a splendid style of liv. ing, altogether unwarranted by the amount of his income or his status in society. As no fault could be found with his conduct professionally, of course the partners of the firm had nothing to say to his mode negligence, scarcely took the pains to inquire into. of living, which they indeed, by a somewhat culpable Things went on in this manner for a period of about eighteen months, when a painful catastrophe occurred. It was discovered that Mr Edward Crompton had eloped to America, after robbing his employers to a very large amount, more, it was said, than the value of his bond of security. He had foreseen that his peculations to support his extravagance could not be much longer concealed, and he therefore determined on making his escape with as large a sum as he could dreadful picture of depravity to the unfortunate man skilfully manage to secrete. Let us turn from this who was involved in irretrievable ruin by the villany which had been perpetrated. Here, at Honniton Hall, in steady observance of all that society required of him, and attention to all that was due to himself, he appeared to glide amid enjoyments that he appreciated with thankfulness: above all, he was blessed with a wife whose every thought concentrated in the endeavour to render his home a scene that communicated gladness to his heart. Two children had quitted their parents' arms for the tomb, which told the sad bereavement; and though grief had passed heavily over the feelings of Mr and Mrs Travis, their equanimity was restored, and they passed their days in interchanges of kind offices with their friends, and of satisfaction with the world. Jonathan felt a pleasure in rendering services to another, and he was accustomed to say, "that if there exist an individual who has not made another grateful, let him hasten to produce such an effect; for he may be assured of a succession of pleasing associations, heightened by an approving conscience, which the wisest have described as the path of peace." But in the exercise of this benevolence, Mr Travis, most unfortunately for himself, forgot that there was a possibility of being overreached, and of having to suffer the stings of ingratitude. This he was doomed to feel in the most aggravated manner. He had already, in his course through life, occasionally suffered small losses by the facility of his disposition-by his inability to withstand those who approached him with the view of preying on his good nature. The time at length came, when, not warned by those trifling in juries, he was to deliver himself up, bound a willing sacrifice to miscalled friendship. One day, a friend, Mr Edward Crompton, a young gentleman with whom he had been some years acquainted, called upon him to make him a confidant of a circumstance which had occurred, and to beg his assistance. Crompton was the only son of one of the earliest acquaintances of Mr Travis, now deceased, and had been brought up as a clerk in a respectable banking-house in Bristol. In this situation he had conducted himself with so much exactness, that, on the death of the cashier, he was informed by the partners of the house that he might assume that superior of fice, provided he, as is usual in such cases, gave secu It is proper to mention that the leading ideas, and much of Combe's "Principles of Physiology, applied to the Preservation even the language of this article, have been adopted from Dr Mr Travis now saw his worst fears realised: the fitful dream of life and its wakeful vicissitudes presented a chaos of sufferings to his agitated mind. It is astonishing how easily a man may ruin himself: no earthquake or other convulsion of nature takes place when the negociation of utter beggary is accomplished. In this well-regulated realm, the law, lessly and deliberately strips the victim of all he posthrough the medium of a few mean officials, noisesesses. One day he is rolling in wealth, and the world bows down before him; the next he is penniless, and stands a bare miserable animal, almost craving a mouthful of food for his subsistence. How many un happy individuals have brought themselves and their families into this deplorable predicament, by not having had the moral courage to say-No! On the present occasion, the acquaintances of Mr Travis stood aloof. But what can any one do for another under such circumstances? Society is ceof himself. His friends, we say, stood aloof: the busy mented on the principle that every one must take care world looked on: all could yield commiseration, but none could afford relief; because a man who could be so totally regardless of his property should, as every one acknowledged, take the consequences, be what they may. Jonathan Travis at once bared his bosom to the storm; surrendered all to meet the heavy claims upon him; witnessed valuables pass into the possession of others by public sale, and, when denuded of all, retreated in poverty from a home he had created by his industry. The effect on the feelings and health of Mrs Travis were disastrous; no skill in medicine, nor soothings of affection, nor representation of brighter prospects, availed the least. The wound was too deep; a settled despondency usurped her facul ties; she listened to all that sincerity could impart, or that affection could suggest; but she could not struggle with despair. She never reproached her husband, even by a look, and in the prime of life sunk This was the most wretched rapidly into the grave. period of Mr Travis's existence; the firmness of his nerve seemed to give way on this greatest of all deprivations, and he tottered on the brink of that eter of Health, and the Improvement of Physical and Mental Education;" a work which we observe has passed into a third edition within twelve months, but to which it would be absurd to pay any verbal compliment, after exhibiting such specimens of its contents. All that the present writer can pretend to is some care and industry in putting the matter into a shape, in which it may more ready strike the minds of those who are not much accustomed to reading. We shall probably take an early opportunity of following up this paper with some additional details and illustrations, and of apply-nity to which the partner of his bosom had departed. ing the doctrines to some other departments of society and some other of the affairs of common life. Yet, heavily as this blow was felt, he rallied: it neither crushed his hope nor shook his rectitude. He .ooked sternly on the ravages of untoward events. Even in the thought of loneliness through life, he found some consolation in the idea that Mrs Travis's tenderness could not endure severities to which her ami. ability would have been exposed. He looked around him in the midst of desolation, and, firm in his integrity, applied his mind to procure means of existence. Dependence on the exertions of others he spurned with indignation. He discovered how little was necessary to sustain life; why should he be miserable? He saw the sun rise gloriously as heretofore, the day pass shining on, bright as usual, and succeeded by an evening tranquil as ever; then why should he be wretched? He shrunk from the gaze of no one-he walked firmly past those who held poverty in abhorrence-in honest occupation he knew there were resources sufficient to enable him to preserve his character from reproach, and with this nobility of sentiment he sought employment. The calmness which the intrepid Travis displayed under his accumulated misfortunes, was by some persons stigmatised as apathy, or the result of excessive pride. They accused him of vanity in exposing his poverty to those who courted his society in the day of prosperity, and he was now contemptuously called the Philosopher. Nevertheless, there were others who considered him to exhibit a rare example of fortitude, and a degree of heroism approaching to the sublime; yet such was the general effect of his conduct, that worldly-minded persons with whom he used to transact business, avoided him-those he had been accustomed to oblige, lost all remembrance of him; and by the vulgar mass he was denominated a madman, since no consideration could induce him to forego his dignity of manner, or even apparent cheerful resignation; and they expressed astonishment that he could entertain pity, or speak with tenderness of others, whose misfortunes were trifling compared with his own. Baffled in the attempt to procure employment such as his previous course of life in some measure capacitated him to undertake, and finding on all sides that the aged veteran has little chance of an engagement when his competitors are the youthful aspirants of fortune, he addressed himself to the Next Best, without any depression of his wonted spirit, or allowing himself to sink in his own esteem. For some time he toiled as a labourer at a building erecting in an adjoining county. In this humble occupation he enjoyed his frugal fare with thankfulness. He had no lingering desire for what was now beyond his reach, nor any thought mingled with regret, save for one loss which he could not teach his bosom to forget. He welcomed the sun that taught him when to rise, and hailed the peaceful eve that hushed him to repose. He experienced that there were joys in life, whatever station a man may fill, and felt the full value of content. This course of humble toil he pursued with satisfaction to his employer, till by some neglect in the construction of a scaffold, it gave way, and by the fall poor Travis's hip-joint was dislocated, which incapacitated him for further exertion. One would think that this crushed worm would never more have looked upon the world with complacency. But the mind of the maimed and crippled Travis soared only the higher in consequence of this distressing calamity He was recommended to retire to the alms-house, there to end his days in peace. He, however, declared that he could not think of stooping to live on public charity so long as he was able to move about, even although compelled to use a crutch to assist his steps. We have now to describe the means which he adopted to glean a scanty subsistence. After recovering, and becoming able to leave his bed, he directed his attention to the cutting and selling of flints. From the choicest lumps of flint a material he had no difficulty in procuring from the chalky cliffs of that part of the country in which he moved he hewed those pieces best suited to the gun and the tinder. box. With these slung in a basket over his arm, he hobbled over the district, often finding customers among those who recognised him, and who looked on him with mingled sentiments of awe and compassion. Nothing, we have been assured, but kindness, could move the rock of integrity on which his heart was placed. Firm as the thint he chipped, he could bear adversity unmoved; but if the touch of compassion approached him, he was instantly subdued his big heart swelled, and the warm tear rolled down his weather-beaten cheek. For some years he continued to follow the humble but honest occupation we have mentioned; his misfortunes and his heroism in adversity becoming more and more the theme of comment the longer that he traversed the country. Were this relation a fiction, care would be taken to record the capture of Crompton in a distant country, and his abandonment of at least a portion of that spoil of which he had inhumanely robbed his too facile victim, with the subsequent restoration of Travis to a state of prosperity and comfort. But this is not a fiction: it is the recital of a simple and melancholy truth; and however painful to our feelings, we have to relate in conclusion, that Crompton, being beyond the reach of British law, was never captured, but was, on the contrary, left in perfect enjoyment of his ill-gotten gains, and, unless lately gone to his account, still lives in affluence in one of the cities of the North American states. As for poor Travis-the once wealthy and honoured Travis-he continued till the day of his death to wander with his little basket of | | flints over the counties of Sussex, Hants, and Dorset, whose inhabitants have, till the present hour, a lively recollection of his appearance and character. Worn out in bodily frame, though unimpaired in moral energy, he at length sunk beneath the horizon of mortal existence. Early one morning in the latter end of autumn, when the chill of approaching winter had already tinted the leaves of the forest with yellow and russet brown, a band of reapers going forth to their daily labour, lighted upon the remains of the way worn Travis. His once portly but now shrunken form lay in the sleep of death, beneath one of the stooks of the harvest-field. On one side lay his basket of flints, on the other the crutch with which he used to support his weakened frame; the body was already stiffened by the cold humidity of the atmosphere; and the thin grisly locks, which protruded from below their decayed covering, were dripping with the clear dew of the night. Every thing betokened that the soul had for some hours taken its flight. The aged head of the deceased reclined upon an outstretched arm, leaving | his countenance exposed, and exhibiting in its linea. ments the serenity of a being at peace with itself, and with the world which it had left. GLASS. as early as the year 422 ; for glass windows are distinctly mentioned by St Jerome, who lived about that period. They are again spoken of, and represented as being fastened in with plaster, by Johannes Phillipanus, who lived about the beginning of the seventh century. The seat of the art of glass-making in process of time changed from Rome to Venice, or rather to Murano, a small village in the vicinity of that city. Here it was brought to great perfection, particularly in the making of mirrors, which had hitherto been made of polished plates of metal. The excellence of the Vene tian manufacture, however, in course of time supplanted these entirely, by coming into general use, which they did about the fourteenth century. For many years the Venetian glass, in its various forms, supplied nearly the whole demand of Europe for that description of ware. From Venice the art of glass-making found its way to France, where an attempt was made to rival the Venetians in the manufacture of mirrors, in the year 1634. The first essay was unsuccessful, bnt subse quent attempts and improvements at length enabled the French speculators in this species of manufacture, not only to rival, but excel the Venetians. This was accomplished by one Theverat, about the end of the seventeenth century, who succeeded in casting plates of glass for mirrors, of a size which had hitherto been THE word glass has been variously derived; but its thought unattainable. Glass windows, according to most probable origin is to be found either in the word Bede, were first introduced into England in the year glassum, the ancient Gaelic name for amber, or glacies, 674, by Abbot Benedict, who brought over from the the Latin name for ice. When or how the art of glass-dow glass, to glaze the church and monastery of WereContinent artificers skilled in the art of making winmaking was first discovered, is unknown; but it is mouth. Another authority attributes the introduction certain that the knowledge of this art is of the highest of this luxury to Bishop Winifred jun., who died in antiquity, having long preceded the Christian era. 711. As the periods mentioned by these authorities This fact is established by many circumstances, and, do not differ very widely, it seems probable that glass windows were first introduced into England about the amongst others, by that of glass beads and other ornaend of the seventh, or beginning of the eighth cenments having been found adorning the bodies of Egyp- tury. Previous to this, and for many centuries aftertian mummies, which are known to have been upwards wards, the use of window glass was contined entirely of three thousand years old. Glass is also mentioned to buildings appropriated to religious purposes. Unin the comedy of the Clouds, written by the Greek til the close of the twelfth century, when glass wincomic poet Aristophanes, who flourished four hundred private houses were filled with prepared oil paper, or dows became common in England, the windows of and twenty-three years before the birth of Christ. The manner in which the discovery of the art was made, has been the subject of much ingenious speculation; but these speculations are so various, and in some instances so palpably adapted to circumstances, that little or no dependence can be placed on their conclusions. Pliny says that the art of glass-making was accidentally discovered by some shipwrecked Phonician mariners, whose vessel was laden with fossil alkali, a component part of glass; that, kindling a fire on the shore to prepare some food, and placing thin cooking vessels on pieces of the substance just named, the sand, by the agency of the fire, and its union with the alkali, became vitrified; and hence, according to this authority, the discovery of the art of glass-making. Others, again, attribute this discovery to an accident which occurs in burning bricks when subjected to an excessive heat: they then become more or less vitrified on their surfaces; and this, as already said, is supposed to have given the first hint of the art. That the discovery, like many others, was the result of accident, is extremely probable; but this is all that can be conceded on the subject. The first manufactories of glass of which we have any account, were erected in Tyre, an ancient Phonician city on the coast of Syria. The art afterwards extended to the towns of Sidon and Alexandria, which places also became famous for their glass ware. But for many centuries the manufacture of this article was confined exclusively to mere ornaments; no idea having been entertained that it could be applied to such useful purposes as making windows, mirrors, &c. By degrees, the art extended to the manufacture of drinking-cups or glasses; but these were long deemed of such value as to be fit only for the table of a king-6000 sectertia, a sum equivalent to L.50,000 sterling, having been paid by the Roman emperor Nero for two drinking-cups of this precious ware. At this period the Romans imported all their glass ware from Alexandria; but these were chiefly of an ornamental kind, such as beads, amulets, &c. They were beautifully coloured, however, to resemble precious stones, and were worn by the Roman belles and beaux as jewels, in the adornment of their persons; and thus a string of glass beads, which no servant girl would now wear, was considered an ornament to which the son or daughter of a patrician only could pretend. From Syria, the art of glass-making found its way to Greece, and from theuce to Rome, where a company of glass manufacturers established themselves in the reign of Tiberius. At what period it extended to the making of window glass is not known; but previous to such application of it, the Roman windows were filled with a semi-transparent substance called lapis specularis; a fossil of the class of tales, which readily splits into thin smooth lamine, or plates. This substance, which the Romans imported chiefly from the isle of Cyprus, was also used by them in the construction of hothouses; and by this application of it, we are told that the emperor Tiberius was enabled to have cucumbers on his table throughout the year. Although the precise period is not known when window glass was first manufactured, there is reason to believe that the art of glass-making was so applied | | wooden lattices. These were fixed in frames of wood called capsamenta, from which is derived the word casement, now applied to the framework of a window. introduced into England, is uncertain, but there is reaAt what period the art of manufacturing glass was first son to believe that glass was made there so early as the beginning of the fifteenth century. This appears from a contract, dated 1439, between John Prudde of Westminster, glazier, and the Countess of Warwick, regarding the embellishment of a magnificent tomb for her husband, in which Prudde is bound to use no glass of England, but glass from beyond the sea." 66 In 1557, the finer sort of window glass was manu factured at Crutched Friars, in London. The first flint-glass was manufactured at Savoy House in the Strand, and the first plate-glass, for mirrors, coach windows, &c. was made at Lambeth, in 1673, by Venetian workmen brought over by the Duke of Buck. ingham. The date of the introduction of the art of glass-making into Scotland, being more recent, is well known. It took place in the reign of James VI., who granted an exclusive right to send George Hay, in the year 1610, to manufacture glass within the kingdom for thirty-one years. The first glass manufac tory was erected at Wemyss, in Fife. Larger and more complete works were afterwards built at Prestonpans and Leith. Crown or window glass is now made in England, at Warrington, St Helen's, Eccleston, Old Swan, and Newton, Lancashire; at Birmingham, Hunslet near Leeds, and Bristol. There is none made at this moment in Scotland. The art of simply staining, tinging, or colouring glass, is, it is believed, nearly coeval with the first discovery of the art of manufacturing the article itself. Tradition, however, says that it was discovered by an Egyptian king; but whether it was so or not, it is certain that the art was known in Egypt several thousand years since. The most beautiful imitations in glass of precious stones of all colours manufactured there, and of this antiquity, are still extant. The art of combining the various colours so as to produce pictures, is of more recent origin. The early specimens of this branch of the art exhibit a series of different pieces of different colours, joined together like Mosaic work, so as to bring out the figure or figures desired. This can now be done on one entire sheet. For a long period the pictured glass used in cathed. rals, &c. was merely painted on the surface, and was then liable to be injured by abrasion. The colours are now incorporated with the glass by fusion, and cannot therefore be obliterated but by the destruction of the glass itself. This singular improvement in the art of delineating figures on glass is ascribed to a painter of Marseilles, who went to Rome during the pontificate of Julius II. It was still further advanced by Albert Duren and Lucas of Leyden. The first painted glass done in England was in the time of King John. Previous to this period, all glass of this kind was imported from Italy; but as early as the reign of Henry III., England boasted of several eminent artists in glass-painting. Amongst the first of these was one John Thornton, glazier, of Coventry. This person was employed, in the time of the latter monarch, by the Dean and Chapter of York Cathedral, to paint the east window of that splendid edifice, for which he was to receive four shillings per week of Painting on glass, except in the name, has no resemblance to any other department of the pictorial art but that on porcelain; both the colours themselves and the process of their application throughout being entirely different. All the pigments used in painting on or staining glass are oxides of metals or minerals, as gold, silver, cobalt, &c., which, after being laid on, are subjected to a strong heat, until they penetrate into the body of the glass, or become fixed on its surface, and thus give out their fullest brilliancy and transparency. Animal and vegetable substances, which are freely used as colouring matter in ordinary painting, are wholly excluded in this, as the operation of the fire would entirely destroy their colouring properties. The colours that penetrate the glass, and which are hence called stains, are wholly transparent, while those that are merely fused on the surface (a process effected by mixing them with a vitreous sub. stance called flux) are only semi-transparent; but they may be made to yield any colour or tint desired. The description of glass best adapted for painting or staining is the finest crown or window glass. Window glass is usually composed of only two mate. rials, kelp and fine white sand. Pearl ashes and other alkalis are, however, sometimes used instead of the former. Kelp, it is well known, is produced by the burning of sea-weed. It is cut from the rocks for this purpose in the months of May, June, and July; and after being spread out for some time to dry, it is gathered together and thrown into a pit, where it is reduced to a state of fusion by fire. When cool, it becomes a hard solid substance, and is then broken up into small portable masses for the convenience of transportation. The kelp which it is intended to use in glass-making is broken first into very small pieces by a machine called a stamper. It is then put through a mill, ground to a fine powder, and afterwards passed through a brass-wire sieve. The sand, again, with which it is to be mixed, is usually washed in a large vat with either boiling or cold water, until the latter runs quite clear off. It is sometimes, also, put into an annealing or calcining arch, where it is subjected to | constant daily use. The cutting point even of the sensible to the hopes and fears of life, and at length BIOGRAPHIC SKETCHES. JOHN BEITTON. BRITAIN at present possesses few more industrious | About the age of fourteen, I was destined to visit my London uncle, in a very different capacity from that I had occupied on any former occasion; for I was now to be treated and employed as a servant. This was not considered by me as a hardship, or even a mortification; for it presented variety, novelty, and a source of improvement. It was also one step on the road towards London, that mysterious object of a villager's contemplation. My discipline and labours became severe and heavy, considering my age and strength, and also considering that I had previously been an idler. The journey to London on a coach, which travelled ، My native place is Kington St Michael, in Wilt- at little more than five miles an hour, and which shire, and I was born in the month of July 1771. Of reached the metropolis late at night, was fatiguing to my parents, progenitors, and preceptors or school the body; but the mind was fully occupied and amused, masters, I have nothing to boast, and very little to and more peculiarly so when passing through Hamsay; for I am not acquainted with any traits of facts mersmith, Kensington, Piccadilly, &c., all of which relative to them which are deserving of literary his- were illumined by thousands of lamps, and afforded tory or remark. They were all, I believe, in humble abundant matter for curiosity and surprise. The most stations of life, and almost unknown beyond the con- forcible impressions were, that I should never reach fines of their respective neighbourhoods. The juve- Clerkenwell Close-that London was endless-and that to reside in kitchens under ground was unnatural nile associations of a village, remote from cities or large towns, are neither cultivated in taste, calculated and inhuman. My uncle very soon apprenticed me to improve the mind, nor to inspire emulation; but for six years to a wine-merchant, without consulting as far back as memory can trace any image or im- either my inclination, or apparently caring about the pression, I was eager and ardent to surpass my play-result. These six years were dragged on as a lengthmates and schoolfellows, and ever sought the company of my superiors in age or knowledge. Placed successively at four different rustic schools, I was considered to make rapid progress in such education as was then imparted, and which consisted of a mechanical dull a strong heat for twenty-four hours, and then plunged / routine of spelling, reading, writing, and summing, nothing to learn, and no prospect of reward or ad into water. When this operation is completed, the sand, of which the best for the purpose of the glassmaker is procured from Lynn Regis, in Norfolk, is mingled with the kelp powder in proportions adjusted by the experience of the mixer, but generally in the degree of one part of the former to two parts of the latter. When thoroughly mixed, the compost is put into a calcining arch or reverberatory furnace, where it is reduced to a semi-fluid state. This substance, which is technically called frit, is then taken from the furnace, spread on a plate of iron, and, be fore becoming quite cool, is broken into large cakes. It is then thrown into the melting-pot, together with a proportion of what is called cullet, which is simply broken crown-glass, and in about thirty to thirty-six hours the whole is reduced by a powerful heat to fine liquid glass, and is then ready for the operations of the workman, having been previously skimmed to remove all extraneous substances from the surface. The melting-pot is made of the finest clay, and is subjected to a tedious and exceedingly troublesome process of annealing or tempering before it can be used for its ultimate purpose. The best clay for making these pots is got from Stourbridge in England. When the glass is in a perfectly liquid state, an iron tube of about six or seven feet in length is dipped into it, and a portion of the metal gathered on the end of it. This is afterwards blown into the shape of a large globe. By a subsequent operation, a small aperture is made in the centre of this sphere on the side opposite to that on which it is attached to the iron rod held by the workman; the latter, now holding the globe before the mouth of the furnace until it has become sufficiently ductile to yield readily to any impression, twirls it round with great velocity, when the aperture already spoken of gradually widens till it reaches a certain point, when the globe, which is also gradu. ally losing its spherical form, suddenly flies open with a loud ruffling noise, and becomes a plane or circular sheet of glass of about fifty inches diameter. This is an exceedingly beautiful operation, and well worth seeing. After undergoing a process of tempering or annealing, the sheet is divided in two with a diamond, and in this shape it comes into the hands of the glazier. Although there are several substances that will cut glass, there is none that answers so well for this purpose, or that will last so long when thus employed, as the diamond. Dr Wollaston, after much labour, succeeded in giving to sapphire, ruby, spinal ruby, rockcrystal, and several other substances, the peculiar curvilinear edge which forms the cutting point in the diamond, and was thus enabled to cut glass with them, but these substances soon lost their edge, whereas that of the diamond will endure for many years, though in | or arithmetic. I cannot charge my memory with one ened and galling chain; for my health, always weakly, was greatly impaired by constant confinement in damp murky cellars. My occupation was a continued series of bodily labour, without mental excitement or amusement. Every succeeding day presented only a dull monotonous repetition of the former; there appeared vancement beyond that of a common servant. The porters in the business learnt as much as the apprentice; yet they were rewarded by annual or weekly salaries. I felt my situation irksome and miserable, and ventured to remonstrate with my master and uncle; but without any remission of labour, or improvement in comfort. My health becoming more and more reduced, with scarcely a prospect of recovery, my master at length gave up about half a year of my service, presented me with two guineas, instead of twenty, which he had engaged to do, and sent me into the world to shift for myself. At a very early period, I was led to compare and contrast a certain degree of refinement in the manners of an uncle and his family, from London, who annually visited our part of the country, with the "innocent rusticity" of the villagers. This uncle had obtained a respectable situation in the Chancery Office, had lived and moved in rather a genteel sphere of life, and was enabled to spend nearly three months-the long law vacation-in the country. I was fortunately invited to make one of the party during this periodiIt is necessary to remark, that during this apprencal sojourn in Wiltshire and Gloucestershire, and well ticeship-this immurement in a London cavern I remember to have spent four or five autumas in this stole an occasional half hour in a morning, between seven and eight o'clock, to look at the sky, breathe a way, with much enjoyment at the time, and material little fresh air, and visit two book-stalls in the viciadvantage for the future. It was this association that nity of my prison cave." The rational food and meled me to think of and hope to see London : it was dicine obtained from these sources not only supported then I first imbibed the feeling of ambition-became life, but furnished that information which enabled me enamoured of what appeared genteel manners and re- to ascertain the seat of certain diseases which had long fined discourse and habits, compared with the clownish preyed on my frame, and threatened its dissolution. deportment, the uneducated and uncouth language, After purchasing and reading Chesselden's "Anaand the broad prolonged pronunciation of my village tomy," Quincy's "Dispensatory," some "Treatises companions. Kington now lost all its charms: I on Consumption," Buchan's "Domestic Medicine," Tissot's Essay on Diseases incident to Sedentary anxiously anticipated the annual visits of my People," Cornaro "on Health and Long Life," and relatives, by whom I was received as an associate till several other medical and anatomical works, I was I had reached the age of fourteen. About this period flattered with the persuasion that I knew my own conmy parents had become embarrassed by a succession stitution, its diseases, and the regimen and medicines of misfortunes. My father had conducted business necessary to restore and preserve health. Dr Dodd's "Reflections on Death," his "Thoughts in Prison," for many years as a baker and maltster, had kept a and all his other writings, were familiar to me at this country shop, and was respected as an honest and up-time: as were Ray's "Wisdom of God manifested in right man. For some years all appeared prosperous the Works of the Creation," Derham's "Astro and and happy; but the family increasing to ten children, Physico Theology," as well as Benjamin Martin's nunecessarily augmented cares and expenses. Rivals in merous and pleasing writings on Natural and Expebusiness subtracted from the usual profits of trade; Smollett, Fielding, Sterne, &c. were likewise perused rimental Philosophy. The miscellaneous works of an unfortunate connection with a miller, who might with great avidity; but all the reading I could indulge be truly called a "rogue in grain" without a mis- in during my term of legal English slavery, was by and who sent bad flour and charged high candle light, in the cellar, and at occasional interprices, was the cause of a failure in business, and vals only, not of leisure, but of time abstracted from consequent ruin; loss of credit occasioned a loss of systematic duties. To compensate for this time, I was compelled to labour with additional exertion, and the mental faculties in my father, and he became into adopt the most rapid modes of performing my tasks. To bottle off, and cork, a certain number of dozens of wine, was required to constitute a day's work, and this I could generally accomplish in ten or eleven hours, and I then had three or four hours for my favourite pursuit of reading. Unacquainted with any nomer, London An exceedingly useful work on the subject of glass has just Crown-Glass Cutter and Glazier's Manual, by William Cooper." made its appearance at Edinburgh, under the title of "The It is the only practical book of the kind we are acquainted with, and has furnished us with some of the details of the above article. literary or scientific persons before I had reached it all over the metropolis. Whilst the sale was yet tended to write. They therefore set about their work phic execution, and in a conviction, that the remain- cities. THE SOUTH SEA MARAUDERS. was conscious in himself that an apprenticeship spent in bottling and corking wine was not the best course of preparation for a topographical writer. Pratt's Gleanings and Mr Warner's Walks in Wales were at that time new and popular books, and he had read also the Travels in England of Moritz, the Prussian, who relates, with such pleasant simplicity, his perils in travelling on the outside of a stage-coach, and his sufferings when, for the sake of securing himself, he got into the basket. These books made him emulous of what he admired, and with the view of qualifying himself for the task which he had undertaken, he passed the summer and autumn of 1799 with his friend Mr Brayley, who was to be the associate of his literary labours, in a pedestrian tour from London, by way of the midland and western counties, into North Wales, through that part of the principality, and home by Cheshire. On their return, their first business was to fulfil the engagement with Wheble; the Beauties of Wiltshire accordingly were published in two volumes, IT used to be a common phrase among the most rovexecuted in a very different manner and upon a differ- ing and wild class of sailors, "that there was no peace ent scale of expense from what the original proposals south of the Line." This was certainly the case dur. had promised. Two volumes, however, did not coming the chief part of the sixteenth and seventeenth plete the survey of the county, and five-and-twenty centuries, when the tropical regions of the west were years had elapsed before Mr Britton found leisure to compose and publish a concluding volume, as superior so dreadfully infected by buccaneers or pirates. These to the former in all respects as these were to what had desperadoes belonged to mostly all European nations, been projected in 1784. They then began the Beauties but were chiefly English, Dutch, and French, and of Eugland and Wales, and having seriously begun the whole burden of their cruelty and rapacity fell the work, began also for the first time to apprehend upon the Spaniards. Against the "Dons," as they the difficulty and the importance of the task which called them, they waged a continual war, and, as it ap they had undertaken. The publisher cared nothing peared, on the specious pretence of revenging the for this, and urged them to hasten the performance. cruelties which the Spanish nation had committed He only required the Beauties, he said; much origi- upon the Indians. So much did the Spaniards suffer nal matter was not necessary for such works, and in this way, that they at length adopted the inglorious there were plenty of books which they might copy or abridge. But Britton and his associate were actuated expedient of desisting from carrying on an intercourse with their South American colonies. This, however, by a better spirit; they could not satisfy themselves served but to excite instead of allaying the plunderas easily as they might have satisfied their employer, ing propensities of the buccaneers, who now landed who only wanted a work that would sell; it was not enough for them to do their work, unless they could do from their ships and attacked the colonists in their it satisfactorily and creditably to themselves; they with little attention in England, or of any country to Curiously enough, these depredations met had attached themselves to literature as their vocawhich the pirates belonged. At this period, the Engtion; so they felt that they had a character to attain lish and other courts of Europe generally winked at and support; and, somewhat to the surprise of the the evil deeds of the buccaneers, except when pressed bookseller, they came to the conclusion that places to convict and punish them for their murders and ought to be visited before they were described, and Strange as it may appear, it may be safely affirmed that it was the duty of an author to make himself robberies on the.high seas. So far as the English were that to this junction and circumstance are to be attri-well acquainted with the subject upon which he in- concerned in these enterprises, there can be little reason to doubt that the antipathy which both the nation buted the "Beauties of Wiltshire," the "Beauties of and the government had to the Spaniards-an antiEngland and Wales," the "Architectural" and "Capathy originating, in a great measure, in the attempt thedral Antiquities," the "History, &c.of Westminster of the Spanish Armada on the country, in Queen Abbey," as well as all the other works that have been Elizabeth's time, and which lasted even up till the jointly and separately written by us. On the present This brought on another difference of opinion with middle of last century-was one of the prevailing Occasion, however, I must forbear entering further the unfortunate publisher. The book was likely not causes of the piratical aggressions, and the impunity into auto-biography, fearing that the narrative might only to be better than he had bargained for, but also of a with which they were committed. be regarded as trifling, or egotistical; although the different kind. His authors were for introducing anvicissitudes I experienced after being released from tiquarian subjects and views of our architectural antimy cell-the privations I endured-my pedestrian quities; but the publisher opined that the Beauties journey from London to Plymouth, and back-my of a country consisted in picturesque scenes and gentlepredilection for theatrical amusements, and for read- men's seats, and that antiquities and natural curiosiing and debating societies-and my occupations in ties ought not to be introduced. The title of the wine-cellars, counting-houses, and law-offices, would work was the "Beauties of England and Wales," and collectively afford a series of not uninteresting events, what had Antiquities to do among Beauties? On and subjects both for reflection and for description." their parts it was pleaded, that antiquities were neWhile leading this unsettled and hazardous life, cessarily included in the other part of the title, which the desire of employing his pen more agreeably than promised "Delineations, topographical, historical, and in counting-houses and law-offices, a desire which has descriptive." Differences, in the angry sense of the proved ruinous to so many an unfortunate adventurer, word," and even warm contentions," arose between ied Britton almost by accident into the path for which the parties; and the result was, that Mr Britton planhe was best qualified, not indeed by acquirements, but ned his work upon the Architectural Antiquities of by the disposition, and patience, and tact which would Great Britain; found publishers to engage with him supply their want. An essay which he had written in it upon his own views; and in the course of nine for the Sporting Magazine was the means of intro-years produced the most beautiful work of its kind that ducing him to Mr Wheble, the proprietor of that had ever till then appeared. That work led to his journal. Wheble had, in the year 1784, at Salisbury, Chronological and Historical Illustrations of the Anwhere he then lived, issued proposals for publishing cient Ecclesiastical Architecture of Great Britain, the Beauties of Wiltshire, in two volumes, embellished and to his series of Cathedral Histories. To give an with engravings, the price to be ten shillings, and idea of the capital sunk in this great undertaking, Mr half the money paid at the time of subscribing. Re- Britton mentions that the histories, descriptions, and moving to London, and being fully occupied in busi- illustrations of eight cathedrals, cost the proprietors ness there, he had never found leisure to discharge an more than L. 10,000. engagement which in fact he was little able to perform; but he had received a few subscriptions, and therefore felt himself bound to the performance. And upon falling in with Mr Britton, and finding that he was a Wiltshire man, as if that were sufficient qualification, he urged him to undertake the task in his stead. "I had neither studied the subject," says Britton, was I acquainted with any person to whom I could apply for advice or assistance, yet without either rudder, compass, or chart, I was hardy enough to put to sea, and was more indebted to the flowing tide of chance, and to the fair wind of indulgence, that I ever reached a safe port, than to any skill or talents of my own." Wheble had never obtained any material in formation for the undertaking, and the only printed materials with which he furnished him, was the account of Wiltshire in the Magna Britannia, which the aspirant found not only wholly uninteresting, but almost unintelligible. Shortly afterwards, Mr Hood, then a publisher in the Poultry, engaged him to write or compile, for the publisher was indifferent which, the Beauties of England and Wales, without refer-joying a due reward for his exertions. "I can say," ence to the qualifications of Mr Britton for the work. The young author was more scrupulous than his employers. Notwithstanding the buoyancy of his spirits, and that confidence which he owed to a happy temper, and without which the execution of such a work must have appeared to him utterly impossible, he nor Besides these extremely beautiful and valuable works, Mr Britton composed an immense number of topographical articles in Rees's Cyclopædia, and other publications. He likewise produced a splendid quarto volume descriptive of Fonthill Abbey and its spacious and picturesque grounds. To us it appears that this veteran antiquary and man of letters, has been one of the most useful writers which England has for many years possessed. No country is so full of interesting matter for topographical illustration, and yet no country has been so much, so strangely, neglected in this respect. Its rich stores have lain for centuries almost untouched, and it is yet a country which remains to be described as it ought to be. In the midst of this dearth of English topography, Mr Britton has arisen and done more to make the world acquainted with the character of English scenery and architectural beauties, than perhaps all the other writers on the subject put together. It is gratifying to find that Mr Britton has not he adds at the termination of his auto-biographical One of the most audacious piratical leaders about the middle of the seventeenth century was Henry Morgan, a Welshman, who contrived to gain the favour and patronage of Charles II. Morgan levied war on his own account, and that of his companions, on a great scale. In 1670, he undertook a grand expedition against the Spanish South American colonies, with thirty-seven sail of vessels and two thousand men, the vessels being well provisioned, and the crews armed to the teeth. After holding a council of war at Cape Tiberoon, it was determined to proceed to attack and plunder the rich town of Panama. But this city was situated on the Pacific side of the South American continent, and the vessels of the pirates were in the Atlantic. It was hence proposed to leave the ships on the coast, and march overland to the place of meditated destruction. The daring project, which would have daunted less resolute men, was instantly put in execution. Morgan landed at Fort San Lorenzo, on the West India side of the isthmus of Darien. Having captured this stronghold, in which he left a garrison of five hundred of his men, and having committed the charge of the ships to a hundred and fifty more, the advance towards the shores of the Pacific was commenced. At first the party ascended the river Chagre in canoes, which took them a certain length. After surmounting incredible difficulties, both on the river and on land, and enduring dreadful fatigue in carrying along their artillery over huge mountains, as well as suffering from famine, they at length, on the ninth day, saw the expanse of the Pacific or South Sea spread out before them. As evening approached, they came in sight of the church towers of Panama, when they halted, and waited impatiently for the morrow. At this period, Panama consisted of seven thousand houses. and was a place of considerable magnificence and wealth. When the buccaneers resumed their march at an early hour next morning, the Spaniards at once guessed their desperate intentions, and determined on giving them battle. They marched out from the city to meet them, preceded by herds of wild bulls, which they drove upon the adventurers to disorder their ranks. But the buccaneers, as hunters of these wild animals, were too well acquainted with their habits to be discomposed by them; and this attack of the van does not seem to have had much effect. The Spaniards, however, must have made an obstinate resistance, for it was night before they gave way, and the buccaneers became masters of the city. During the long battle, and indeed all that day and night, the buccaneers gave no quarter. Six hundred Spaniards fell, The loss of the buccaneers is not specified, but it appears to have been very considerable. |