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boat, loaded until the gunwales were scarcely above water. We had all been wearied out with constant labour, and the complaint of excessive thirst became general. On opening our only cask, it was discovered that in the hurry we had taken brandy instead of water. What was to be done in this dilemma? The Englishman, Campbell, overheard us, for we were not more than fifty feet off, and, going below, soon returned with a small keg, which he threw over to From this slender store a mouthful, and scarcely more, was distributed to each person. As the sea had become more calm, and the ship swam well, instantaneous danger was not feared; yet every eye was frequently fixed on the horizon, in hope of espying a sail. The moment the long-boat had left the ship, the steward, black cook, and several hardened fellows, broke open the lockers, and got out the liquors, which they freely distributed. Madeira, Champagne, and rich Bordeaux cordials, laid in for the cabin passengers, were drunk in reckless profusion. A number of men were soon intoxicated, and by their hallooing, shouting, and singing, rendered the scene more awful. During the day I had been too much engaged in pumping and working to think of other matters. As soon as I was in the boat, I remembered Catharine Campbell, and entreated the captain to take her aboard. "Thank your stars you are safe yourself. Do you think the parents would be separated from their only child?—and besides, there is no place for another, were it a cat." Several times the little thing had been to the vessel's side, and cried, stretching out her arms, "Do take me with you! do take me, and father, and mother!" No one answered, and at last I turned my head, to avoid seeing suffering that I could not relieve. As night approached, the captain ordered the painter to be lengthened, and a man with an axe to stand at the bow, ready to cut away in case the ship should founder. The weather was pretty calm, and wearied as I was, I could have slept anywhere, had it not been for the cold, which was doubly felt in our state of exhaustion. It was as much as we could do, by pressing close together, to keep a little heat in our bodies. During the livelong night, shouting, dancing, singing, profane swearing, peals of drunken laughter, intermixed with quarrelling and fighting, were heard from the leaking vessel.

A little after daybreak the wind died away to dead calm. The bosom of the vast circle of clear azure water was smooth as polished crystal, and gently rose, dying away in long undulations. The shades of night still mingled with the dawn in the west; but eastward, a bright pearly hue, intermingled with rosy light, tinged the fleecy clouds, and was reflected on the broad mirror below. At length the swell entirely subsided, and the sun rose in dazzling brilliancy from an unbroken ocean of molten gold. In the midst stood our ship with her white sails hanging loosely against the masts. How soon the human mind becomes apathetic to one continued form of danger! As the sea was still, and the vessel floated well, hope revived within us and our deserted companions. In looking at the young and healthy faces around me, and the beautiful appearance of nature, I in vain tried to realise the proximity of death. We had become quite gay, chatting and joking freely on every passing circumstance. The captain alone partook not of our hilarity. In the first moment of danger, he had exhibited a composure which continued still unchanged. When I intimated to him that the vessel might not sink for some days, he merely compressed his lips and shook his head with a most melancholy expression.

The scene on shipboard disclosed by morning was but a repetition of the preceding evening. The majority of the passengers, still under the influence of liquor, continued their boisterous mirth, while a few others, overwhelmed with the prospect, walked the deck slowly and silently, or were seated immoveable pictures of despair. The Campbells, as during the whole voyage, were entirely alone. The husband was sitting to the windward, near the companion-way, with one arm around his wife, and both exhibited an air of firm and dignified composure. Their daughter moved about from place to place, the sea being so calm that the parents permitted her to go at large.

66

out of water; "but I believe, after all, it was a premature fright. The words had hardly passed his lips when the vessel seemed to quiver, and in an instant went down like lead. I have been told and have read of cries and screams from the victims in such cases; but we heard none. In fact, it was as quick as light. ning. The waters closed as easily over the sunken bark as if they had never felt the presence of such an inconsiderable atom on their mighty surface. Not an eddy was seen; not a fragment floated. "Cut the painter," cried the captain; "quick, quick, my lads." The axe was mislaid. There was a moment's pause-a moment of horror; for the next we would be drawn down by the sunken ship. "Knives!" shouted the captain; "has no one a knife?" Two or three sailors' knives were immediately unclasped, and in active operation. The rope tightened, the prow of the boat was depressed, while we all rose up in breathless expectation. The nervous arms of the sailors were plied to the utmost, and the cord, not more than a second before it would have been too late, was severed.

The breeze springing up, the sail of the long-boat was hoisted, and we bore away. During this time, Catharine was slowly recovering. She had swallowed but little water, as her submersion was momentary. When somewhat restored, she inquired, "Where is father and mother?" I could make no reply. She looked round on the water with an affrighted air. "The ship is sunk!” exclaimed she. "Yes, my little girl," replied the captain, with an emotion even he could not suppress; "and all that were in her are sunk also." She threw herself on my neck, and cried bitterly. Seeing her wet and chilled, one of the sailors handed me his pea-jacket, in which I wrapped her, and, exhausted in body and mind, she soon wept herself to sleep in my lap. When, however, she awoke, her lamentations for her " poor father and mother" were renewed.

When things were a little in order, our only cask of biscuits was opened for distribution, but they were found injured by salt water, excepting a few, which were equally divided among us. Water was also doled out, the captain himself pouring it into the cup for each one separately, to prevent the exhausted wretches from taking an undue share. Catharine's eyes followed the cup as it passed round, with an intensity which showed she was dying of thirst, though she uttered not a word. The captain, at my request, put in my portion and hers together. My throat was parched; but I barely bathed my lips, and gave the cup to the pale and suffering child. She swallowed the contents at a draught, and then for the first time looked in my face and smiled. Yet the next instant, burying her face against my breast, she wept again.

Since the commencement of our misfortunes, every All our hopes were in soon falling in with a ship. eye had been frequently stretched round the horizon. As the sun was declining, the breeze freshened, and the water dashed so freely over the sides that we were steadily employed in baling it out. Meanwhile, one of the sailors, in stepping heedlessly over a bench, put his foot on our compass and crushed it to pieces. Without a guide on the trackless ocean, our situation was in truth hopeless. Our provisions were nearly exhausted, and should our boat ride out the night, starvation stared us in the face. The breeze became a strong gale, lightning flashed in the livid clouds, and muttering thunders were heard nearer and nearer. Before sunset, the skies were so enveloped in gloom that a premature twilight had come on. As the water dashed more frequently and abundantly over the gunwale, the captain at last exclaimed, "My friends, it is all over. In less than an hour we will be with those whom we have just seen swallowed up."

The storm soon broke in all its fury, and darkness rendered our situation as dismal as it could possibly be. When all hope was gone, and we expected every moment to go down, our straining eyes caught sight of a vessel lying to. What a relief was this! We hailed the ship, and were speedily rescued from our dreadful situ

ation.

In fifteen days we arrived in New York. On entering The captain ordered the boat to be drawn near the the beautiful bay, I felt the full extent of my situationvessel for a moment, in order to give some directions, without money, friends, or acquaintances. But I hapand the little girl immediately ran alongside, extend-pened to look at Catharine, and reflected that she was ing her arms as before, and crying to me, even more desolate, and a female too! "Poor little "Won't you take us too? Do, Mr Ferguson-good Mr Fer. creature," said I, involuntarily expressing my feelings aloud, "whatever happens, I will not desert you." "I guson. Won't you take your own little Catharine ?" know you will not," replied she, raising her arms to emMy heart sank within me at the thrilling tones of the brace me. 66 "No, never," I exclaimed, with energy. child. "I cannot take you, Catharine," replied. "Would to God I could, my dear." She climbed partly up the bulwark, still entreating, Pray take us too, good Mr Ferguson." While thus on the very verge, the vessel made a heavy lurch, and the little one was evidently losing her balance. "Take care,' shouted every one from the boat and ship, but the caution came too late. She pitched headlong into the sea. I plunged into the water before she had well touched it, and a few rapid strokes brought me up to her. Seizing her by her flowing hair, just as she was sinking, I bore her to the boat. A general hazza greeted my success. Alarmed at the lurch, the captain then dropped off to the full length of the painter, and I could only see the agonised actions of the parents, and their arms stretched towards where their lifeless daughter was borne.

"I thought she was going down," said the captain, looking at the ship that stood almost as high as evei

I was rich in resolutions and wishes, but my whole worldly store consisted of about twenty guineas and my watch. My only clothing was the suit on my back, which was not very new before, and had become thoroughly discoloured by abundant drenchings of sea-water. All my hope was on my friend the captain, and that hope was not misplaced. Before landing, he promised to do his best for me. As soon as he was ashore, he took me with him to the City Hotel. A number of friends called in the evening to congratulate him on his wonderful escape, and he ordered in a quantity of Champagne. In the midst of the hilarity, he fell down and expired in an apoplectic fit. He was a short corpulent man, and the exertions he had undergone, and his anxiety of mind, no doubt hurried the catastrophe.

My only anxiety was now to get employment, hoping that as my diligence and qualifications were known, I could at least make a support. Eventually I found a place at three hundred dollars a-year, in a store of fancy goods in Maiden Lane. This might have been enough

had I been alone; but Catharine was with me, and had any one offered to have taken her, I would have consented reluctantly, in spite of my poverty. In fitting her out with clothing, and myself also, no matter how simply, my guineas were consumed to a fraction. I thought, should it come to the worst, I could raise something more from my watch. I hired a small room in one of the back streets at a hundred dollars a-year, including breakfast and tea. As for dinner, though I regularly left the store apparently for it, a few biscuits and cheese, or something of the kind, sufficed. It took the rest of my salary to board, clothe, and educate my little ward at the neighbouring village of Brooklyn. As I had various small items of expense, the strictest economy could not have kept within my means, had it not been for my skill in copying music, which I had formerly practised much for amusement.

After a lapse of six months, my employer gave me lodgings back of the store, perhaps as much to guard it against thieves as from any other motive. I had served two years, when a couple of hundred dollars was voluntarily added to my salary, and for a moment I felt delighted in the hope of a little more spare time and recreation. My next reflection determined me to persevere in my course of life. At every succeeding visit I had become more and more attached to Catharine, and she appeared devoted to me. She was always on the watch on my visiting days, and would come running towards me with extended arms as far off as she could descry me.

I afterwards sent Catharine to Troy, on the Hudson, where there was a school of great reputation, and directed that no expense should be spared in either the useful or ornamental branches. She took the separation so much to heart, that had not all the arrangements been yielded to her entreaties. She clung convulsively round made and the money paid in advance, I would have her. my neck, begging me to let her remain, or to go with When, however, I explained things to her, she quietly submitted, though her pallid cheek and swelling bosom spoke more distinctly her deep feeling.

After her departure, I used my utmost endeavours to ascertain something about her family. Soon after the shipwreck, I had made some inquiries; but I was in truth a mere boy, unacquainted with business of such a nature. I now wrote to my friends in Europe on the subject, and had advertisements inserted in a number of the London and provincial papers; but without gaining any intelligence whatever

I had now remained six years in the same establishment, with apparently increasing satisfaction on both treated me more like a son than a stranger. My wages sides. Indeed, my employer, from the very beginning. had also been increased at different times, till I was quite at my ease; especially as my parents continued to send me every year a good supply of clothing, which cost little in Europe, but was valuable here. Originally, my intention was to return to my native country as soon as I had accumulated something; but I had formed many acquaintances, and become so satisfied with my situation, that I began to consider myself as settled for life. short time, my employer imparted a share in the business to me, with which I felt perfectly satisfied.

In a

Catharine's education was now completed, and, at the recommendation of the principal of the school, I removed her to the boarding-house of a lady of her acquaintance. My situation with respect to my fair protegee was now somewhat critical. Every evening I visited the house at which she resided. I was extremely fond of music, and she both played on the piano and sung with uncommon sweetness and execution. As there were two other agreeable young ladies in the house, a number of gentlemen were often there. With her beauty and talents, Catharine was quite a belle. I felt uneasy when I saw others near her, or praising her singing and playing. In spite of me, I could not pay her a single compliment, even when I felt all that others said; yet her eyes always sparkled as I entered the room, or if I asked her to sing. She practised the pieces I liked, and bought those I recommended. Whenever a walk was proposed in the evening, she took my arm. At first, found the young men that visited Catharine pleasant; but afterward, just in proportion as they were talkative or witty, I felt a growing dislike for them, which I in vain tried to

repress.

One evening, being unoccupied, I went to see Catharine immediately after dinner. The servant informed me, as I entered, that the family was out, but would soon return. I had often wished to be alone with her; yet my heart throbbed so violently, and my tongue stuck so to the roof my mouth, that I could scarcely utter a word. She looked confused also.

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"Brother," said she, after a momentary pause, I am happy to speak with you a moment alone. I expect to leave here soon."

"Leave here soon, Catharine!" I exclaimed, starting. "For mercy's sake, where are you going?"

"I have been too long a pensioner on your bounty, and-" "Never mention it again, Catharine, if you would not wound my feelings. You have been my greatest-my only happiness."

Her eyes filled with tears; but she assumed some firmness, as if her mind had been made up before. "I feel, my dear brother, the whole extent of your kindness; but I would be unworthy of myself and your generosity, were I to remain a dead weight on your hands, when your liberality has placed me in a condition to support myself. A teacher of music and drawing is wanted in a female school not far from the city, and with the recommendations I can obtain from Troy, I am sure of getting the situation. For the last two years I have laboured indefatigably to fit myself for such a place, and I hope my success has not been contemptible."

I would have interrupted her, but she spoke with a resoluteness which deterred me. Approaching her, I took her hand. "My dear Catharine, I had hoped wo should never more be separated." She looked down, an if overcome with emotion.

"You will not now leave me," I continued. "It seems as if fate had united our destinies, and my mind has so dwelt on you alone, that the world would be to me a blank without you."

Catharine turned partly from me, but withdrew not her hand, which tremblingly returned the pressure from mine.

"It is useless to tell you I love you. Will you be mine, Catharine ?"

me.

"No," sobbed she, painfully; "I cannot; I will not." My heart was now too full, and it burst forth in spite of "Catharine, I am afraid that you look upon Mr Selwyn with more favour than you do upon me. But I love you too deeply to see you the wife of another; and therefore I must leave you, I must place distance between us." Catharine started. "And do you really love me ?" she said. "Is it not mere pity-charity for an orphan ?' "Would to God it were !" "Then, indeed, I am happy," she exclaimed, and threw herself weeping on my neck.

The revulsion of my feelings was so sudden, for a mo. ment I was without the power of moving or uttering a word. We soon came to an explanation. Catharine told me, that even at school her fancy had dwelt on me alone, and that as she advanced in age, and saw more of the world, she distrusted her feelings, fearing her childish fondness might strengthen into a deeper affection; and that this at times had rendered her melancholy; and that once, during her stay at school, having heard it reported I was to be married, it had thrown her into fainting fits, which her teachers could not understand. She said, since her residence in New York, though she often Aattered herself with having made an impression on me, fears obtruded themselves on her mind, that I, who had

already done so much for her, might, out of pure kindness, carry my sense of duty farther; and it was for this reason, that even while her heart bounded with delight at my first avowal, that she, in spite of herself, had rejected me.

Having no one to consult, and few preparations to make, our wedding took place in a short time. Though not wealthy, I was in a condition to keep house with perfect comfort.

Three years had rolled away, when, looking over an English newspaper, I noticed an inquiry for William Malone, his wife, and daughter, who were supposed to have sailed for New South Wales or the United States nine years before. I could remember no such person, yet the name seemed familiar to me. At last it struck me that I had seen it in one of two volumes given to me by Catharine's father, which were in my pocket at the time of the shipwreck. I hunted up the book, and sure enough I found "William Malone" written on the margin of one of the pages, partly erased. I then examined the other book presented me by Campbell, which I had indeed never opened before, and discovered "Catharine Dormer" clearly enough, though attempts had been made to efface it. hand, three silhouettes fell out, on which were inscribed in pencil, William Malone, Catharine Malone, and Catharine Dormer Malone." The last was of a little girl. I informed Catharine of my discovery, and told her I hoped it would enable me to trace out her family. She immediately showed me a small gold locket she had

been immediately found in New York, where he had
been taken with the rheumatism on his first landing, and
from whence he had never travelled; and that he had
willingly agreed to return to his native land for a small
gratuity.
When I asked the old man if he knew William Camp-
bell, he burst into tears. "Did I know him!" he ex-
claimed. "What do you know about him?"

the symptoms which come on are so serious, the ra. pidity of their progress so great and so fatal, that very little can be done. Besides the means we have recom. mended, powerful stimulants are to be given internally, and the best perhaps is hartshorn. In the East Indies, the natives administer a remedy which has been called the Tanjore pile, the chief ingredient of which has been discovered to be arsenic; but such means scarcely any but a medical man would be justified in resorting to.

1 entreated him to speak freely, as my question sprang from no idle or impertinent curiosity. "Yes," said the old man, "I saw him on board when he left his country, and received from him what I have It is somewhat singular that the poison of serpents carried with me ever since. He pressed me to accept should be perfectly inert when taken into the stomach, his watch, but I would have died sooner than have robbed a fact, however, which appears to have been known him of all he had left." Here Cradock drew from his from the earliest ages, when such wounds were sucked pocket a small Morocco box, and took from it a minia- with impunity; and we learn that, when Cato marched ture in an ebony frame. Notwithstanding the length of the remains of Pompey's army through Africa, he time, I immediately recognised the features of Catha-wisely informed the soldiers that they might drink of rine's father. the waters that contained serpents without injury to themselves. Thus, the bite of a single viper will very speedily deprive a pigeon of life, and a single bite by no means exhausts the whole poison of the gland; but a piece of bread moistened with the whole of the poison of ten vipers, and given to a pigeon, will produce no effect. To be effectual, therefore, it is necessary that the poison of serpents should be applied to a recent wound. It may be applied to the surface of the body without any harm accruing.

"And was Campbell his real name?" I inquired. "No matter what it was," firmly answered the mendicant. "The sea rolls over every thing connected with him, and the secret I promised to keep shall be as still

as his rest."

Just then Catharine entered the room, but seeing us apparently occupied, instantly withdrew. "For mercy's sake!" exclaimed the old man," who is that young lady?" "She is my wife, and the daughter of William Campbell." "How! was he not then lost at sea? I thought the whole were wrecked?" "No; the father and mother perished, but I saved the daughter you have just seen." "Then one of the name of Malone still exists ?" "William Campbell and William Malone were then the same?" "They were. Bowed down by poverty, he hoped to better his fortune abroad, and, perhaps out of false pride, changed his name, that his degradation, should he continue unfortunate, might not reach his acquaintances, and particularly his hard-hearted father-in-law. I followed him to Greenock, and would have crossed the water with him had he not positively refused. No one but his father and mother knew his destination, nor did they

even know the name he assumed."

My chain of evidence was now perfectly clear, as it was not difficult to prove by my fellow-passengers, some of whom lived in New York, that Catharine was the daughter of Campbell, and the manner of his death. Indeed, so conclusive was the proof, that my wife's property, which is considerable, was given up without a conI shall renounce business as speedily as I can well wind up my affairs; but I shall return to America, and take up my residence there for life.

test.

UPON POISONS AND POISONING. THE animal poisons, which first come under our notice, include the sting and bite of certain animals, and others when taken internally as food. And, first, of

It is

The bite of many foreign snakes is attended with peculiarly dreadful consequences. The author of the Excursions in New South Wales, speaking of the result of a bite from the death or deaf adder, says, "immediately decomposition commenced, and, in a very short space of time, the body was in such a state that it was with difficulty removed to where the grave had been dug. My informant," he says, "who had been twenty-two years in the colony, emphatically added, that when a person is bitten by a death adder, he has scarcely time to exclaim, Lord have mercy upon me!' before he becomes a lifeless corpse. affirmed that, in Africa," continues this author, "there are several, the bite of which causes a most horrible death. The person bitten feels drowsy, and the form melts at once into a mass of putrefaction. burning snake of India can cause instant death, the blood flowing from the eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, and exuding from the pores. An American serpent, called de la crux, is said to kill in the same manner; finally, the bite of the najer is represented to be so fatal, that a person bitten by one will die in the course of half an hour." But these are foreign to our present purpose, and we shall proceed to the bite of rabid or mad animals; at the head of which stands the dog.

The

While holding the volumes in my the bite of serpents-a very large class of reptiles, of ter, is applied to that dreadful, and as far as our pre

which, however, Plenck assures us that only twentyfour species are venomous. Of these, Europe has only five, and Britain, happily, but one-the common viper or adder. There is a marked difference between the teeth of the innocuous and poisonous snakes: in the

always worn, bearing the letters C. D. M., which we sup- former there are four rows, two towards the palate the dreadful property of communicating it to man or

posed might mean the name on the small silhouette. As the investigation might be a long and troublesome one, I resolved to go to Europe, especially as our mercantile affairs rendered it desirable. On arriving in England, Catharine and I went to Exeter, where the advertisement was dated. I there ascertained that a young man, of great respectability but no fortune, named William Malone, had made a runaway match with the only daughter of a Mr Dormer, a wealthy landholder; that after expending what little he had, and failing in his attempts at farming, the husband had left Exeter with his wife and a young daughter; but no one knew where he had gone. The father and mother of Malone had both died soon after the departure of their only child, and recently Dormer was also deceased; leaving, in the hour of final repentance, the whole of his fortune to his daughter and her issue. The executors of Malone, the father, readily permitted me to examine his papers. Among them I discovered a letter, in which William Malone informed his parents that he would sail the next day from Greenock for New York-the day exactly on which I had left Europe.

All this satisfied me pretty well of the parentage of Catharine. Many persons also were struck with her strong resemblance to William Malone; but legal proof was wanting, and nothing else would answer, as there were distant relatives well disposed to contend to the utmost for the property.

When I had almost despaired of success, I was told that John Cradock, a faithful old servant, had accompanied William Malone's family when they left Exeter, but had never returned. I immediately went to Greenock, to try and trace him out. There I ascertained that a John Cradock had been a servant in one of the principal inns, but that he had sailed some years ago for America; and that as he was an old man in infirm health, was probably dead. My informant stated, he had indeed heard a rumour that Cradock was living in New York in great indigence. I now employed an eminent counsellor, who told me that he had strong hopes of establishing my wife's parentage; but at the same time told me candidly that my proof was not so conclusive that a jury would give a verdict in my favour. He advised me, before bringing an action, to discover John Cradock, if pos sible, as he was probably the only one that could prove that Campbell was an assumed name. This I immediately did.

Upwards of two months had elapsed since I had written to America, when one morning a well-known old New York beggar entered my room. I inquired what wonder had brought him to Europe. "I have," said he, “ letter from your partner which will explain every thing." The letter stated that the bearer, John Cradock, had

a

and two towards the front of the jaw; while in the poisonous kinds there are only two of these parallel rows-namely, the palatine teeth-and, instead of the others, there are simply two large fangs projecting towards the edge of the mouth, and these are the poisonous fangs. The venom of these animals is contained in a bag situated on both sides of the head, which, when the animal intends to bite, it presses, by means of a muscular arrangement for the purpose, and the poison flows from it along a duct to the base of the tooth, which is moveable, very sharp, and hollowed throughout its length; through this canal the poison progresses, and issues into the wound by the opening which is near its end, for the point of the tooth itself is hard and solid. If these fangs be removed, or their structure destroyed, the animal is rendered harmless; and thus mountebanks are wont, whenever they suffer vipers to bite them before spectators, to stop with cement the perforations of the teeth, or destroy the glands in which the poison is secreted. The only venomous serpent in Britain, as we have already mentioned, is the viper, and the power of that reptile is so slight and feeble, as not in general to endanger the life of man. Small animals kill a dog; according to the experiments of Forster, may be killed by a viper, but its bite does not usually it requires three or four viper bites to kill a dog. Circumstances, however, such as great debility of body, disturbance and irregularity of the digestive apparatus, or unusual heat of the season, have sometimes led to fatal results in the human subject.

In the treatment of injuries of this kind, the prin. cipal object is to prevent the passage of the poison from the wounded part into the body; and hence it is of advantage to apply a tight ligature above the bite; that is, between it and the heart. This of course is only advisable to be done immediately after the accident; for if swelling has taken place, it is likely to do more harm than good. The part is to be most carefully washed, so as to remove all venomous matter, and then the surface of the wound may be pared out with a sharp penknife; at any rate, it hould be well scarified and laid open, to afford the opportunity of more complete ablution. These means will generally suffice when the bite has been inflicted by the British viper; but with regard to other species.

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The term hydrophobia, which means a fear of wasent knowledge extends, invariably fatal disease, arising from the bite of rabid animals, and produced in the human frame by the introduction of a poison pe. culiar to animals affected with canine madness. This poison is introduced with the saliva; that is, the saliva of animals labouring under the disease acquires other animals when infused into their system. We will not in this place inquire if any other fluid than the saliva can communicate the disease; we believe there is none, nor do we think that the perspiration or breath of an infected animal can communicate it, and still less do we think it ever arises spontaneously; but these discussions do not accord with our present purpose. The dog, wolf, fox, cat, with the horse, ass, mule, cow, sheep, pig, and perhaps the goat, are lia the disease can only be communicated by the dog, wolf, ble to hydrophobia; but there is reason for believing fox, and cat. The wolf suffers much from the disease; and the late Duke of Richmond lost his life in consequence of hydrophobia contracted from the bite of a fox in Canada. When a dog labours under the complaint, his manner becomes much altered; he is peevish and sullen; he scarcely will notice those to whom he has been accustomed; he will get away from home and wander about. He will not go out of his way to attack individuals or brute animals, but he is very apt to bite those who come across him. He picks up and swallows small objects; straw, bits of grass. and dirty substances of any kind. When he is tied up, and towards the latter period of the complaint, he will gnaw and bite the objects around him; he will grow angry, and become very wild in his appearance; his jaws are continually covered with tough saliva; and at last he dies in all the horrors of confirmed madness. The disease is usually communicated to the human subject by a bite; in fact, the saliva of a rabid animal must be brought into contact with a recent wound, or with an ulcer or abraded surface; and it is not absolutely necessary that this should be done through the medium of a bite. Not long ago, a lady of rank had a French poodle, of which she was very fond, and allowed to lick her face. She had a small pimple on her chin, of which she had rubbed off the top; and allowing the dog to indulge in its usual caresses, it licked this pimple, of which the surface was exposed, and thus she acquired the disease of hydrophobia, of which she died. Wounds are not equally effective in conveying the poison, particularly if a person is bitten on a part covered with clothes; in which case the teeth of the animal are in a manner wiped or cleaned by passing through the cloth. An interval of time elapses between the infliction of the wound and the appearance of any symptoms; generally speaking, the disease shows itself between the thirtieth and fortieth day. The only symptom to which we shall al

lude, is an extraordinary aversion or dread of drink which seizes the unfortunate patient; this, when added to the excessive degree of salivation with which it is accompanied, leave no doubt as to the cause. With regard to the treatment of hydrophobia, we know of none; but much may be done in the way of prevention; and the means we are about to recommend should be put in practice after every, or any bite, no matter how slight, that is received from a dog or other animal. They are simple in themselves, and will ge nerally prevent much fear and anxiety, if not on the part of the patient, among his friends and connections. Very hot water should be poured from a teakettle into the wound, the vessel being held four or five feet above it; if a common syringe, or squirt, is at hand, the water should be injected into the wound; and this ablution should be carried on for three or four hours. Burning the part with caustic is not a safe method, as we cannot be certain of applying it to the whole wound; and some of the saliva may perhaps escape being touched with it. Indeed, the only plan entirely to be depended upon, is cutting out the bitten part; taking care that all the flesh with which the animal's teeth came in contact be removed. If

this be effectually done, there can be no fear of hydrophobia; and if a medical man or qualified person cannot be procured within an hour or two, during which time the mode of washing we have recommended is to be persevered in, any body with a sharp penknife might proceed with the operation; by doing so, the patient may be saved from a death most terrible to the individual, and most appalling to those interested in his wellbeing.

We have three species of wasp in Britain-the hornet, the common wasp, and the small wasp each of which possesses the property of producing by its sting violent and painful inflammation; there are also seven species of the genus apis; the most remarkable of which are the small field-bee, the common hive-bee, the humble-bee, and the great humble-bee. The sin. gle sting of any of these cannot be regarded as attended with danger; and the same means of relief as recommended for the bites of vipers, may here also be employed. The supposed power of the toad to spit out a poisonous fluid, has, by many experiments, been so satisfactorily refuted, that we need not enter upon the subject; this poor animal, though vilified and traduced, is perfectly innocuous.

With regard to poisonous fishes, and especially of the more common one, the mussel, we are inclined to think that much depends upon the unhealthy condition of the animal, and the peculiar habit of body of the individual eating it. Every body is aware that one person may harmlessly eat of a fish which disagrees with another; and also, that substances the least putrescent, as long-kept game &c. are highly injurious. But much obscurity attends this department of our subject; we know, however, that the softest kinds of fish become soonest putrid, and hence we see the policy of the Hebrew legislator-" whatsoever hath no fins nor scales in the waters, that shall be an

abomination unto you."

If a case of poisoning from eating fish should present itself, we cannot do better than administer an emetic, and the best is a teaspoonful of mustard in a tumbler of warm water; and this should be followed by a smart purgative dose.

We now come to a consideration of those poisons which belong to the vegetable kingdom. In this department of our subject, we may begin with the poisonous vegetable substances which are found growing wild among our hedges, our plains, our woods, and hills, and which may become the agents of much uneasiness, or even death, to the unsuspecting and unwary. And, first, of a very common plant in England, but rare in Scotland, and of a highly poisonous nature the wild vine or bryony (Bryonia diæcia); the flowers of which are greenish, with small red berries, and a spindle-shaped root, like a radish or carrot, which has a very fetid smell: it was formerly employed in medicine, but is now banished from the pharmacopeia. A small quantity of it is poisonous, producing violent inflammation of the bowels. Of the several species of ranunculus, common every where, the same may be said; and many unpleasant accidents have been occasioned by them. So powerful is the action of these plants, that, when bruised and applied to the skin, they cause small ulcers to arise; and thus beggars often employ them as a means of exciting commiseration. So common is this practice, that, on the Continent, the ranunculuses or buttercups have obtained the name of herbe aux gueur, or beggar's plants. They carry with them, however, a punishment for those who use them, as the sores they create are both painful and difficult to heal. The anemone is another poisonous plant; and the Caltha palustris, the marsh marigold, or Mayflower, is a powerful acrid. The stavesacre (Delphinium staphysagria) and the clematis "The favoured flower,

Which boasts the name of virgin's bower"must also be avoided, as well as all the daffodil tribe. The mezereon is a poisonous species of Daphne, which all must have admired in March, when, as Cowper sings, it is,

"Though leafless, well attired, and thick beset

With blushing wreaths, investing every spray.” The singular beauty of the berries of this plant has often tempted children to eat of them, and sometimes

caused their death. Linnæus says that six berries
will kill a wolf, and he once saw a girl die from eating
twelve of them.

The subject of Vegetable Poisons will be concluded,
along with a notice of poisons of a mineral nature, in
a subsequent article.

SCOTTIE.

It has been already shown, in the article entitled the
Sheepstealing Dog, that crimes of great magnitude
seldom occur amongst the rustic people of Peebles-
shire, and that, when they do occur, they invariably
create a great sensation, and are long remembered.
About twenty years ago, an individual of the gene-
rally decent and respectable class of farm-servants at-
tracted the notice of the community in this sequestered
region, by a series of daring and dexterous robberies,
as well as by the ingenuity with which for a time he
contrived to baffle the search of justice. Scottie-such
was the familiar name of this person, and it would be
a pity to mar its impish effect by mentioning the real
one-was a native of Hawick, but for many years had
been settled in the neighbourhood of Peebles. He was
a little thick set fellow, of great personal strength, and
an excellent servant in every point over and above
honesty. For instance, he could sow with both hands,
and thus finish a whole "rig" at one walk. It is also
related of him, with something like the same wonder
which usually garnishes a tale of Wallace, that, being
interrupted one day in ploughing by the sickness of a
horse, he was found next morning, to his master's
great surprise, between the stilts as usual, the place of
the horse being supplied by the bull, which, by an al-
had compelled to pass beneath the yoke. Though a
most incredible exertion of strength and ingenuity, he
married man with a family, he was very "regardless"
in speech, which was considered as almost his only
fault, till greater ones were discovered. It was after.
wards ascertained, that from his earliest years he had
been addicted to pilfering, insomuch that he could not
pass any house whatever without devising ways and
means for robbing it. He experienced, indeed, a kind
of torment from the restless activity of his predatory
disposition, which haunted him with schemes innu.
merable, at times when his prudence knew there were
no proper means of satisfying it. Under an impres-
sion that the proceedings of such a singular being in
the midst of a scene of rural simplicity and honesty,
may supply details for the gratification of a philoso-
phical curiosity, without doing any harm, we have
taken some pains to make ourselves acquainted with
them, and shall now lay them before our readers.

The first "place" we are aware of his having occu.
pied in Tweeddale, was that of ploughman at the
Whitehaugh (a farm belonging to Sir John Hay,
about a mile from Peebles), where, as is usual with
married farm-servants, he dwelt in a small cottage
near his master's house. So slight were the depreda-
tions he committed in this place, that they were only
with difficulty recollected afterwards, when his cha-
racter had become matter of public fame.
He was
and hardly a milk-house within four or five miles
very active, however, among the neighbouring farms,
escaped being broken into, and cheese carried off. He
likewise was a thorough adept in cow-milking. It
was his common practice to steal out at the dead of
night with a pail, and, gaining an entrance to the
loosely secured byres, there contrived to ease every
cow in the stalls of a small portion of its milk. He was
cunning enough to take only a little from every cow,
so that a suspicion of the cows being milked never once
entered the mind of the farmers and their wives and
servants. From these beginnings in crime, great deeds
in time followed.

Some time after Scottie had left the Whitehaugh
for the Park, a farm at no great distance, a travelling
to the former farm-house, and, according to his wont,
haberdasher, who carried his goods in a caravan, came
took up his lodgings there for the night. The car-
riage containing his goods, which was placed at the
end of the house, was found next morning, to the great
alarm of the household, to have been robbed of clothes
and trinkets to a very large amount. Scottie, it af.
terwards appeared, had executed this robbery with his
customary ingenuity. He had come about midnight,
when he knew every one would be asleep, and seeing
there would be danger in touching the caravan so near
the bedroom windows of his former master, he had
rolled it away to a considerable distance, having first,
however, twisted a number of short straw ropes,
which he bound round the wheels to prevent them
from making a noise. He then broke open the cart,
and abstracted as many of the most valuable articles,
including some silver watches, as he could conveniently
carry away. Every attempt to discover the perpetrator
or mode of this robbery proved for a long time vain.

Scottie now settled himself with his family in the

town of Peebles, and undertook only occasional labour. While here, he committed a burglary under very remarkable circumstances. The store-cellars of a respectable grocer were situated in a close behind his shop, and were accessible both in that quarter and from an alley on the other side, the latter being a thoroughfare. One very stormy night, Scottie proceeded to the place with a horse and cart, which he stationed in Eddlestone Water, near the bottom of the alley. He then made a detour, and, coming down the alley, gave the storehouse door one heavy blow with supposed by the neighbours to be occasioned in some a forehammer, the noise of which might readily be manner by the wind. Passing on, and making the same detour, he came once more down the alley, and gave one more heavy knock with his hammer. Again and again he did this, till the lock gave way, and adtity of soap, sugar, spirits, and other matters, with mission was gained. He then carried off a great quanwhich he loaded his cart. When satisfied, so far as it was possible for such a person to be so, he drove the vehicle up the water for a little way, and landed at a place where carts were in the practice of crossing; thus taking care that there should be no trace of wheels in the neighbourhood of the alley, or from that place to his own house, where he proceeded to deposit his ill-gotten stores.

the same honest travelling-merchant was despoiled, Some years after the robbery at the Whitehaugh, under exactly similar circumstances, at the farm-house of Lochurd, in the western part of the county. Scottie had tracked Mr Tait and his caravan or cart from Skirling fair, and, after possessing himself of a new supply of goods, hid a large portion of them under the posited in Golanberry Wood, on the property of Sir thatch of the stacks, while the more valuable he deThomas Gibson Carmichael. It happened, however, that, some time before this event, Tait had seen him mowing in a field on the farm of Bonnington, and had his suspicion excited by observing, in the back of Scottie's waistcoat, which the coat usually covered, a piece of flannel which he knew to have been part of the goods which had been abstracted at the Whitehaugh. He therefore conceived himself justified in apprehending Scottie upon a justice's warrant. With racter, little acquainted with the ways of the world, all his dexterity, Scottie was weak in general chaand withal of that timid spirit which prompts a crouching under danger as the best means of avoiding it. He therefore made a full confession, and offered immediately to give up the whole of the goods lately stolen, evidently supposing that he would thus make his peace with justice. He even became jocose with years, and remarked with great coolness, "Losh, Mr Tait, whom he had known familiarly in former Geordie, ye never hae ony siller i' your pack." Tait accompanied him to the stack yard of Lochurd, where several webs were found, and afterwards to Golanberry Wood, on entering which he told the party that "the yolk o' the matter," that is, the better part of ing himself satisfied as to the completeness of the surthe spoil, lay here. On the injured merchant expressrender, Scottie turned to him briskly, and, in a friendly and candid tone, said, "Now, Geordie, am I no an honest man ?"-an expression which has ever since been proverbial in that part of the country. To his own great disappointment, he was manacled and brought down to the jail of Peebles.

It was on a wintry day at the end of the year 1809, himself, and had not yet put on his coat, when the place of confinement. that Scottie made his celebrated escape from this He was in the act of dressing entrance of the jailor's wife with his morning's mess of porridge presented him what he thought a good opportunity of breaking his bonds. He accordingly thrust the woman aside, rushed down stairs, and scampered along the neighbouring bridge as fast as he could, crying to the few loungers who stood in his way, to let him run, as it was for life! He thus cleared the town in a minute, and, chancing to find a horse at water at the farther end of the bridge, under the charge of a boy, he leaped on its back, and galloped off in the direction of Manor, hardly any one attempting to follow him. The horse was found at no great distance, having apparently been abandoned on account of the snow, which lay too deeply furrow he left in the snow, tinged, it was said, here on the ground to allow of its passing freely. But Scottie himself could only be traced farther by the and there with blood. It was alleged that he made a double far up Manor Water, in order to mislead pursuit; but this cannot be stated with certainty. It is known, however, that he spent the first night at the lonely sheiling of Glensax in Newby Hope. The local interest excited by his escape was very great, he must be enduring from the inclemency of the seaand there was now far more pity for the misery which son, than there had been commiseration for his fate night, between twelve and one o'clock, the goodman as a prisoner in danger of the law. On the second and good wife of the Whitehaugh heard a tapping at their bedroom window, and, on inquiring who was there, heard a dolorous voice saying, “It's me—it's puir Scottie-oh let me in-I'm deein' o' cauld and hunger!" The worthy farmer immediately got up, admit the unhappy wretch, when his wife, who saw and, under the impulse of benevolence, was about to danger to good fame in such a proceeding, interposed, and prevailed upon him to limit his kindness to a temporary succour. On going to the window and looking

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out, they saw the poor creature still in the half dress
in which he had made his escape, and were told, in
the voice of misery itself, that his shoes were in tatters,
and his stockings were masses of ice. Directing him
to wait in the shed till they should come to him, they
hastily gathered a few articles which they thought
would be of service in his present distressed condition,
and to these they forthwith made him welcome, but
upon the express condition that he should not remain
where he was. The lady advised him to give himself
up, as he was almost sure to be taken, and by his
present course was only encountering much unneces-
sary pain. But this he could not think of doing.
"Oh, no, mistress," said he; "they'll hang me.'
Scottie, nevertheless, concealed himself for a long
time at the Whitehaugh, though without the know-
ledge of its truly respectable tenants. Being perfectly
acquainted with the place, he had stolen back some
time after, and formed a kind of nest for himself
within a long peas-stack, which, being erected with
a very roomy hollow for air, was peculiarly well
adapted to the purpose. When, in the course of sum-
mer, the stack was cut down, Scottie was found to
have dug upwards and sideways, and thus made a
kind of bed, in which were a plaid, a nightcap, and
a large "rung" for defence. A most characteristic
circumstance was the finding of a lot of undressed
quills, which the wretch had evidently plucked from
the geese through the mere spirit of appropriation, as
he could not possibly have any use for them.
It was
generally believed, that, while here, he often visited
his family by night, at their house in Peebles.

THE LONDON PRESS.

MECHANICAL DEPARTMENT.

fifty compositors are constantly at work, some of whom
have already set up the beginning, whilst others are
committing to type the yet undried manuscript of the
continuation of a speech, whose middle portion is tra-
velling to the office in the pocket of the hasty reporter,
and whose eloquent conclusion is perhaps at that very
moment making the walls of St Stephen's vibrate with
the applause of its hearers. These congregated types,
as fast as they are composed, are passed in portions to
other hands, till at last the scattered fragments of
the debate, forming, when united with the ordinary
matter, eight and forty columns, re-appear in regular
order on the platform of the printing-press. The hand
of man is now too slow for the demands of his curi-
osity, but the power of steam comes to his assistance.
Ink is rapidly supplied to the moving types by the
most perfect mechanism; four attendants incessantly
introduce the edges of large sheets of white paper to
the junction of two great rollers, which seem to devour
them with unsated appetite; other rollers convey them
to the type already inked, and having brought them
into rapid and successive contact, redeliver them to
four other assistants, completely printed by the almost
momentary touch. Thus, in one hour, 4000 sheets of
paper are printed on one side; and an impression of
12,000 copies, from above 300,000 moveable pieces of
metal, is produced for the public in six hours!"*
It should be mentioned that at present there are
two printing-machines of the largest size in the Times
office; one being devoted to the printing of the first
side of the paper, and the other being devoted to the
printing of the second. This causes an immense ac-
celeration in the process of taking the impressions.

His subsequent career may be briefly related. After serving for some time as a labourer in Dumfriesshire, One of the most remarkable characteristics of mowhere he disguised himself by fixing on a new crop of dern newspapers, as compared with the older ones, is the hair with pitch, he was seized in the act of breaking a formidable extension of their size. The restriction upon house at Moffat, which he supposed to be unoccupied. the size of newspapers was abolished some years ago, and Being then brought to trial at Jedburgh for his first the opportunity was eagerly seized by the more enterrobbery, he obtained a restriction of the libel by confes.prising proprietors of the daily journals to enlarge their sion, and was condemned to transportation for life. It sheets, without at the same time charging any thing is to be hoped, that, in the country to which he was additional for the increased quantity of reading. Of conveyed, he has applied his ingenuity to purposes the enormous mass of matter now contained in some better calculated for his own advantage, and that of of these journals, the following description of the his fellow-creatures, than any he seemed ever to have Times, given at the time by a contemporary print, in view in the scene of his earlier years. upon a second enlargement of the former in 1829, may give our readers some idea :-"The Times, this day, instead of giving a supplementary sheet, is printed upon one entire sheet of paper, measuring four feet in length and three in breadth, and containing fortyeight columns of matter, of which rather more than thirty are filled with advertisements, being considerably upwards of 90,000 words. There are fifteen columns of reports and news of various kinds printed in small type, and containing more than 45,000 words, and about three columns in the larger type, containing more than 6000 words; so that there are nearly 150,000 words in the paper. This quantity of matter would form considerably more than a thick octavo volume of any of the modern works as they are now printed. Indeed, on calculating the quantity of one of the most recent, and by no means the least closely printed, we find that the contents of the Times of this eighty pages the contents of the volume we have examined. On referring to one of the earliest newspapers in this country, we find its contents to be equal to less than 1-100th part of the Times of this day. Considering the shortness of time which must have elapsed between the commencement and the termination of the labours of getting up such a sheet, the number of hands employed in every department can have fallen little short of one hundred. There may be some who will dread the task of getting through an octavo volume at their breakfast table." It must here be mentioned that the Times is by no means the largest paper in London; some of the weekly papers containing more than double the quantity above stated. The price of these papers, however, is generally much larger than that of the daily ones.

agents, too, almost all advertisements are transmitted for the paper, upon which they receive a commission. We will not attempt to give a calculation of the individual circulation of the various London journals, or even of their total amount, as such statement is liable to be very erroneous. We cannot err far, however, in giving the following statement from the Times, respecting its own circulation and that of several of its contemporaries, in 1829, by which some idea may be gleaned respecting the magnitude and importance of the London press, even in a financial point of view. It says" We have been requested by the gentleman interested to publish the following state

ment:

Upwards of L.53,000 is annually contributed to the revenue by one individual. Mr Clement, proprie. tor of the Morning Chronicle, who possesses the largest newspaper establishment in London, paid last year, between January 1st and December 31st, 1828, for stamp and excise duties for that journal and his three weekly papers, no less than L.53,500. The number of fourpenny stamps (which is the red mark at the corner of every paper) was 2,735,865; Mr Clement's consumption being more than one-tenth part of the stamps used by all the newspapers printed in England, of which there are printed in London 49, and in the country 151, together with daily and weekly journals 200, consuming, according to the Parliamentary return, about 25,000,000 of fourpenny stamps. The quantity of paper used was 5471 reams; each ream weighed 40 lbs.; the excise on which was 10s. the

ream.

The number of advertisements inserted in Mr Clement's papers in the year was 29,633; the duty upon each advertisement being 3s. 6d. Thus the sums paid to the revenue by Mr Clement's newspaper concern in the past year of 1828, were2,735,868 news stamps Duty on 29,638 advertisements, at 3s. 6d. 5,185 15 6 Excise on 5471 reams of paper, at 10s.

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L.45,597 15 0

0

2,735 10 Total L.53,519 0 6 may be called our own private concerns on public at. We had never intended again to obtrude what tention, but the insertion of the previous paragraph of duty in ourselves to take the opportunity of placing at the request of Mr Clement, makes it almost a sort

is the proprietor of four newspapers, and the total
a counter-statement before our readers. Mr Clement
amount of his contributions on the four is L.53,519,
Os. Gd. We will shortly oppose to this the contribu
tion to the revenue of the Times alone, and will adopt
the method of calculation used by Mr Clement:-
L.48.516 13 4
News stamps, 3,046,500
6
Duty on 92,969 advertisements, at 3s. 6d. 16.269 11
Excise on 6093 reams of paper
3,351 3 0

IN continuation of a late article which treated of the capital employed in the management of the London newspapers, we proceed to give an outline of the mechanical means by which these organs of public intelligence are produced. Formerly, ordinary presses were employed to work the whole of these sheets, from that which circulated a few hundreds to that which circulated as many thousands. As only about 250 sheets can be printed, and that on one side only, in an hour, it may readily be supposed, that if a single press bad alone been employed for some of the papers of larger circulation, the news would have been old. day, if printed in the same manner, would exceed by Times over any one of the four journals alluded to."

and another intelligencer ready to be issued, before the whole of the subscribers were supplied. As a partial remedy of this inconvenience, more than one set of types were set up, and more than one press employed in throwing off; but this was at once an expensive and most imperfect process. The nature of the old printing-press, in fact, set a kind of limit to the circulation of a newspaper, and it was long anxiously desired that means might be devised for extending its powers.

We have understood that, about twenty years ago, a proprietor of the Times newspaper employed a German mechanist, named Koenig, to construct a machine which should supply an increased number of impressions within a given time. After repeated failures, and the incurring of much expense, the attempt succeeded so far, that about twelve or thirteen hundred entire impressions were produced in an hour; a number which subsequent improvements have more than doubled. For a history and description, how ever, of the printing-machine-that splendid step in the march of literature-we may refer to the 35th number of Chambers's Information for the People, article ART OF PRINTING. In order to convey some idea of an establishment in which a printing-machine is employed, we present the account of the Times of fice, given by Mr Babbage, in his Economy of Ma. chinery and Manufactures :

"The establishment of the Times newspaper," says he, "is an example, on a large scale, of a manufac sory, in which the division of labour, both mental and bodily, is admirably illustrated, and in which also the effect of the domestic economy is well exemplified. It is scarcely imagined, by the thousands who read that paper in various quarters of the globe, what a scene of organised activity the factory presents during the whole night, or what a quantity of talent and mecha. nical skill is put in action for their amusement and information. Nearly one hundred persons are employed in this establishment; and during the session of Parliament, at least twelve reporters are constantly attending the Houses of Commons and Lords; each in his turn, after about an hour's work, retiring to translate into ordinary writing the speech he has just heard and noted in short-hand. In the meantime,

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After the papers are printed off, those on the establishment have no trouble with their distribution or

Total L.68,137 7 10 leaving an excess in favour of the Times alone, over the four papers published by Mr Clement, of L.14,618, 7s. 4d. We will not do so invidious a thing as point out the enormous excess of contribution paid by the

It must be observed, that the above calculation was made previous to the reduction of the tax of 3s. 6d. on every advertisement to ls. 6d., by a late act of Parliament. What effect that alteration has had on this source of the revenue, we have no means of ascertain. ing.

THE "TERROR BY NIGHT." FOR a considerable number of years, particularly since Canadian timber came into such extensive use in the construction of dwellings, the common house bug, or Cimex lectularius, has been rapidly on the increase in all parts of Britain. "In no part of Lon don (according to the Monthly Magazine) are these noxious insects to be met with in such abundance as

otherwise. They are taken by the publisher, and in the new houses erected in the Regent's Park, into
disposed of to two classes of individuals-the news-
venders and the news-agents. The former purchase
which they have been introduced in the American
them for ready money at something less than sixpence timber employed in their construction. On examin-
each, and supply the local readers at the regular ing the timber as it comes from the ship (continues
charge of sevenpence; the difference of price being this authority) it will be found that the bugs abso-
their profit. The news-agents are a highly respect-lutely fill up the crevices." With regard to the exact
able class of individuals, who supply newspapers regu-
larly to such individuals in town and country as may
be pleased to order them. They are responsible for
all risk to the proprietors; their only remuneration
being the same difference of price at which the news-
venders purchase and sell the papers. Through these

Mr Babbage adds, in a footnote to the above passage-" The
author, with one of his friends, was recently induced to visit this
most interesting establishment after midnight, and during the pro-
gress of a very interesting debate. The place was illuminated with
gas, and was light as day; there was neither noise nor bustle; and
the visitors were received with such calm and polite attention, that
they did not until afterwards become sensible of the inconvenience
which such intruders, at a moment of the greatest pressure, must
occasion; nor reflect that the tranquillity they adinired was the
result of intense and regulated occupation. But the effect of such
cheeks in the current of business will appear, on recollecting, that,
as 4000 newspapers are printed off on one side within the hour,
every minute is attended with a loss of 66 impressions. The quar-
ter of an hour, therefore, which the stranger may think it not un-
reasonable to claim for the gratification of his curiosity (and to
him this time is but a moment) may cause a failure in the delivery
of 1000 copies, and disappoint a proportionate number of expec-
tant readers in some of our distant towns, to which the morning
of each day."
papers are dispatched by the earliest and inost rapid conveyances

location of bugs in the metropolis, we are unable to say any thing; but we can mention what is notoriously the case in Edinburgh, that bugs are to be found in the greatest swarms in the newest parts of the town, and in some streets and places more than others. In the Old Town, where native hardwood has often been used in building, bugs are compara. tively unknown, except in houses kept by persons of uncleanly habits; but in these instances they are more on the surface and in the furniture of the dwellings than any where else. In the New Town, on the other hand, bugs are engrafted in the constitution of the buildings. They are in the large unplained timbers, such as the joists and beams, and from thence they pour out in thousands, if their colonies are not carefully secluded or blockaded by oil paint applied to the walls and the crevices round the skirting boards, doors, &c. That such is the case, there can be ne

manner of doubt. Indeed, we have proved the fact from actual observation and experience. It certainly does appear strange how the newest, highest-rented, and finest-finished houses, should generally be most afflicted with the presence of these nauseous vermin; but the circumstance is entirely attributable to their introduction through the medium of the rough timbers. In the outer clefts of the logs of wood the living animals or their germ find a habitation, and these logs being cut into smaller pieces, but without cleaning their outsides, thence the myriads of bugs, small and large, the newly hatched and the aged, creep forth at the approach of summer, or, moved by the heat of the apartments, seek the surface of the walls and floors, where their chief store of nourishment is to be found. When they thus develope themselves, nothing, as we have said, will suppress them but a plentiful exhibition of paint, along with scrupulous cleanliness.

Most unfortunately for the comfort of many families, it is a custom of house-proprietors in Edinburgh —and perhaps in other places to leave houses unpainted in any respect, for several years after their erection. The walls are left with the bare plaster, and the doors and other woodwork are left similarly bare, without colour, varnish, or paint. Possibly this practice may arise from a desire to allow the house in all its parts to be thoroughly dried and seasoned. But it must be lamented that such a practice should prevail. It would be infinitely preferable to allow the timbers, &c. to be well seasoned before being used, and to paint and paper the houses before they were entered by families. Were people a little more cautious in entering as the first tenants of new houses, the practice would soon be discontinued. From what we have learned on this subject, we would advise no family to enter a new house, however clean in appear ance, till it be painted, and, in the proper sense of the word, finished.

In London, where we believe no family whatever would enter a house till papered and painted, it would seem that even these precautions are in some places found unavailing; and, therefore, it becomes obviously the duty of house-builders in London, Edinburgh, and every where else, to use the utmost care in preventing unclean timbers being introduced into build. ings. The logs of wood ought to be dressed or plained on the outside; at least none of the outer rinds should be made use of. All preparations of the timber, such as sawing and plaining, should also take place apart from the premises in course of erection. By these means we might expect to procure comfortable dwellings, altogether free of the nuisance now under our notice. As, however, we have no doubt that many builders, whose only object is to make the most of their houses at the least possible expense, will either sneer at or pay no sort of attention to measures of this nature, it ought to be the duty of families about to rent houses, to refuse to occupy any dwelling until it be in every respect finished. We would likewise recommend gentlemen about to build houses for themselves, to expend a trifle in preparing and cleaning their timber; the satisfaction arising from such a measure of precaution will alone compensate for the outlay.

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Perhaps the following particulars in connection with this subject, which appear in the BRITISH CYCLOPÆDIA (Orr and Smith, London), will not be unacceptable to our readers. "The original English name, as we learn from Mouffet, was different from that now universally given to this insect, which in his time (1634) was termed wall-louse, and Messrs Kirby and Spence suggest that the term bug, which is a Celtic word signifying a ghost or goblin, was applied to them after Ray's time, most probably because they were considered as 'terrors by night;' hence our English word bug-bear and in like manner the passage in the Psalms, Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night' (xci. 5.), is rendered in Matthew's Bible Thou shalt not need be afraid of any bugs by night.' Southall, in his Treatise upon the Cimex lectularius, published at Ipswich in 1793, and which reached a second edition, states that the first appearance of bugs in London occurred after the great fire in 1666, which learned men,' says he, united in thinking were imported with the new deal timber, as the bugs were naturally fond of turpentine woods.' That the latter circumstance took place, is perhaps perfectly correct; indeed, Linnæus was of opinion that this insect is not originally a native of Europe, and that it was imported from America; but there is abundance of evidence to show that they were known in England before the great fire, since Mouffet records the circumstance which occurred in 1503, of a Dr Pennius being called in great haste to visit two noble ladies residing at a little village called Mortlake, on the banks of the Thames, who were greatly alarmed by the appearance of bug bites, which were considered as symptoms of the plague or some such contagious disease, and whose fears were only dispelled by the capture of the insects and the statement of their physician, who happened also to be a naturalist. As a native of Europe it has been known for centuries, being noticed by Aristotle (Hist. liv. 5. chap. xxxi.) under the name of Coris, by Galen, Dioscorides, Pliny, &c. who state the medical virtues which it was supposed to possess, especially as a remedy against the bite of serpents. It was also applied in numerous other diseases, as we learn from Mouffet, who has collected the learning of the ancients and of the middle ages upon this and other similar subjects. The medical student of the

present day will smile at learning that twelve live bugs taken fasting (four per diem) was an approved remedy against the colic. Whether the apparent rarity of these insects in England was the result of the superior cleanliness of its inhabitants over those of France, Germany, and Italy, as Mouffet states, may perhaps indeed be doubted; certain it is that it now thrives in our climate as well as elsewhere, sometimes, especially when unmolested, swarming to a most intolerable degree, not only in inhabited, but also in empty houses, getting under the wainscotting, &c. where it appears strange that it should be able to obtain nourishment. Numerous remedies have been from time to time proposed by various writers, for the purpose either of driving away or killing these insects, which are almost as notorious for their disagreeable scent as for their annoying propensities. Of these remedies, Mouffet gives a long list; Mr Brande has given another in the index to the Materia Medica. We have known that an uninhabited house which swarmed with these insects has been completely cleared by a powerful fumigation of brimstone. And Southall, who obtained from his ancient black negro' the secret of making a fluid for the prevention of bug bites, states it to have been made by boiling several strong herbs, as herb Robert, cormint, &c. in water, and adding corrosive sublimate and sal ammonia; this liquid being applied with a sponge to furniture, &c. Our readers will perhaps smile at this statement, and in quire how the negro had gained a knowledge of Eng. lish herbs, and the other substances employed, and will probably be inclined to think the whole story to savour rather of quackery. We will only add, that these remedies are for the most part either insufficient or dangerous, and that by carefully examining furniture infested at the commencement of the spring, and by strict cleanliness, they will either be entirely destroyed, or their numbers considerably reduced."

TRAVELLING IN ENGLAND THIRTY

YEARS AGO.

gan to think we had been mistaken, when suddenly the loud trampling of horses' feet, as they whirled up the sweep below the windows, followed by a peal long and loud upon the bell, announced, beyond question, the summons for my departure. The door being thrown open, steps were heard loud and fast; and, in the next moment, ushered by a servant, stalked for. ward, booted and fully equipped, my travelling com panion-if such a word can at all express the relation between the arrogant young blood, just fresh from assuming the toga virilis, and a modest child of profound sensibilities, but shy and reserved beyond even English reserve. The aged servant, with apparently constrained civility, presented my mother's compli ments to him, with a request that he would take breakfast. This he hastily and rather peremptorily declined. Me, however, he condescended to notice with an approving nod, slightly inquiring if I were the young gentleman who shared his post-chaise. But without allowing time for an answer, and striking his boot impatiently with a riding-whip, he hoped I was ready. 'Not until he has gone up to my mistress,' replied my old protector, in a tone of some asperity. Thither I ascended. What counsels and directions I might happen to receive at the maternal toilet, na turally I have forgotten. The most memorable circumstance to me was, that I, who had never till that time possessed the least or most contemptible coin, received, in a network purse, five glittering guineas, with instructions to put three immediately into Mr Hll's hands, and the rest when he should call for them. The rest of my mother's counsels, if deep, were not long; she, who had always something of a Roman firmness, shed more milk of roses, I believe, upon my cheeks than tears; and why not? should there be to her corresponding to an ignorant child's sense of pathos, in a little journey of about a hundred miles? Outside her door, however, there awaited me some silly creatures, women of course, old and young, from the nursery and the kitchen, who gave and who received those fervent kisses, which wait only upon love without awe and without disguise.

What

I found myself lifted into the chaise: counsels UPON this subject there appears an entertaining well. about the night and the cold, flowing in upon me, to written article in the twelfth number of Tait's Edin. which my companion listened with derision or astoburgh Magazine, published a few weeks ago, from which nishment. I and he had each our separate corner: we present the following sketch:-"Whilst reverting to and, except to request that I would draw up one of the these remembrances of my childhood (says the writer), glasses, I do not think he condescended to address I may add, by way of illustration, and at the risk of one word to me until dusk, when we found ourselves gossiping, a brief notice of my very first journey. I rattling into Chesterfield, having barely accomplished might be then seven years old. A young gentleman, four stages, or forty or forty-two miles, in about nine the son of a wealthy banker, had to return home for hours. This, except on the Bath or great north roads, the Christmas holidays to a town in Lincolnshire, dis- may be taken as a standard amount of performance tant from the public school, where he was pursuing in 1794 (the year I am recording), and even ten years his education, about a hundred miles. This school later. In these present hurrying and tumultuous was in the neighbourhood of my father's house. There days, whether time is really of more value, I cannot were at that time no coaches in that direction; now say; but all people on the establishment of inns are there are many every day. The young gentleman required to suppose it of the most awful value. Now. advertised for a person to share the expense of a post-a-days, no sooner have the horses stopped at the gatechaise. By accident, or chiefly, I believe, out of com- way of a posting-house, than a summons is passed pliment to the gentleness of my manners, and the down to the stables; and in less than one minute, depth of my affections, I had an invitation of some upon a great road, the horses next in rotation, always standing to the same town, where I happened to have ready harnessed, when expecting to come on duty, a female relation of mature age, besides some youthful are heard trotting down the yard. Putting to,' cousins. The two travellers-elect soon heard of each and transferring the luggage (supposing your conveyother, and the arrangement was easily completed. It ance a common post-chaise), once a work of at least was my earliest migration from the paternal (or, as I twenty minutes, is now easily accomplished in three. ought then to call it, the maternal) roof; and the And scarcely have you paid the ex-postilion before anxieties of pleasure, too tumultuous, with some slight his successor has mounted; the ostler is standing sense of undefined fears, combined to agitate my ready with the steps in his hands, to receive his invarichildish feelings. I had a vague slight apprehension able sixpence; the door is closed; the representative of my fellow-traveller, whom I had never seen, and waiter bows his acknowledgment for the house, and whom my nursery-maid, when dressing me, had de- you are off at a pace never less than ten miles an hour; scribed in no very amiable colours. But a good deal the total detention at each stage not averaging above more I thought of Sherwood Forest, which, as I had four minutes. Then (i. e. at the latter end of the been told, we should cross after the night set in. At eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth century) six o'clock, I descended, and not, as usual, to the half an hour was the minimum of time spent at each children's room, but, on this special morning of my change of horses. Your arrival produced a great life, to a room called the breakfast-room, where I bustle of unloading and unharnessing; as a matter of found a blazing fire, candles lighted, and the whole course you alighted and went into the inn; if you breakfast equipage, as if for my mother, set out, to sallied out to report progress, after waiting twenty my astonishment, for no greater personage than my. minutes, no signs appeared of any stir about the sta self. The scene being in England, and on a Decem- bles. The most choleric person could not much exber morning, I need scarcely say that it rained; the pedite preparations, which loitered not so much from rain beat violently against the windows, the wind any indolence in the attendants as from faulty ar raved; and an aged servant who did the honours of rangements and total defect of foresight. The pace the breakfast table, pressed me urgently and often to was such as the roads of that day allowed; never so eat. I need not say that I had no appetite; the ful- much as six miles an hour, except upon a very great ness of my heart, both from busy anticipation, and road; and then only by extra payment to the driver. from the parting which was at hand, had made me in- Yet even under this comparatively miserable syscapable of any other thought, or feeling, or attention, tem, how superior was England, as a land for the but such as pointed to the coming journey. traveller, to all the rest of the world, Sweden only excepted.

Thirty-nine, or possibly, I believe, even forty years, have passed since that December morning in my own life to which I am now recurring, and yet, even to this moment, I recollect the audible throbbing of heart, the leap and rushing of blood, with which, during a deep lull of the wind, the aged attendant said, without hurry or agitation, but with something of a solemn tone,That is the sound of wheels; I hear the chaise. Mr Hl will be here directly. The road ran, for some distance, by a course pretty nearly equidistant from the house, so that the groaning of the wheels continued to catch the ear, as it swelled upon the wind, for some time without much altera. tion. At length a right-angled turn brought the road continually and rapidly nearer to the gates of the grounds, which had purposely been thrown open. At this point, however, a long career of raving arose; all other sounds were lost; and for some time I be.

What cozy old parlours in those days! low-roofed, glowing with ample fires, and fenced from the blasts of doors by screens, whose foldings were, or seemed to be, infinite! What motherly landladies! won, how readily, to kindness the most lavish, by the mere attractions of simplicity and youthful innocence, and finding so much interest in the bare circumstance of being a traveller at a childish age! Then what blooming young handmaidens, how different from the knowing and worldly demireps of modern highroads! And sometimes grey-headed faithful waiters, how sincere and how attentive, by comparison with their flippant successors, the eternal 'Coming, sir,'' Coming, sir,' of our improved generation.

Such an honest old butler-looking servant waited on us during dinner at Chesterfield, carving for me, and urging me to eat. Even my companion found

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