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GALLANT CONDUCT OF A SAILOR BOY.

In the month of October 1811, the sloop Fame of Carron a place on the upper part of the Firth of Forth -while on her voyage from London to Scotland, was unfortunately captured off the coast of Northumberland, by a large French privateer. All the crew of the sloop were immediately transferred to the French vessel, as prisoners of war, with the exception of an old man and a boy, who were left on board, in company with half a dozen Frenchmen, to carry the vessel into a French port. But this, as it appeared, was easier said than done. After parting from the privateer, the sloop made the best of her way towards the coast of France, but she had not proceeded long in this direction when a heavy gale began to blow from the south-east, which drove her to the north; the wind, however, shifting to the north-east, she was now driven into the mouth of the Firth of Forth, with the navigation of which the Frenchmen, as well as the old man belonging to the sloop, were totally unacquainted. The night, which had come on, being excessively dark as well as stormy, and all the candles and oil being either expended or thrown overboard, the compass was rendered useless, and the vessel was allowed to go before the wind. In this predicament, and with almost the certainty of destruction before them, the boy luckily recognised the Inchkeith beacon light, took possession of the helm, and carried the vessel in safety up the Firth. Knowing that there was a man-of-war lying at St Margaret's Hope, he ran the sloop for that anchorage; and on coming alongside hailed aloud that he had six French prisoners on board, and demanded assistance to secure them! A boat was instantly put off; but the moment the crew came on board, the little fellow, who was only thirteen years of age, seized on the Frenchmen's pistols as his right of conquest, and resolutely refused to give them up. The Frenchmen, who were glad to exchange death for captivity, warmly acknowledged the skill and intrepidity of the boy in navigating the vessel, to which their own safety and that of the ship and cargo were altogether owing. A statement of the whole affair was duly transmitted to the Admiralty, but we regret we are unable to say whether or not the manful little fellow obtained any reward for this piece of service, or arrived at that eminence in his profession which his spirit and gallantry at so early an age seemed to prognosticate.

HYDROPHOBIA.

tinue furious, another dose must be administered, which will infallibly quiet him. A profound sleep will succeed, which will last twenty-four or forty-eight hours (according to the strength of the patient's constitution), at the expiration of which time he will be attacked with severe purging and vomiting, which will continue till the poison be entirely ejected. He will then be restored to his senses, will ask for food, and be perfectly cured. There is an Indian living in Tubutama, who is known to have an antidote to the poison injected into the wound occasioned by the bite of a mad dog, &c.; and it is therefore superior to the savadilla, which will only cure the disease when it has been formed. Two thousand dollars have been offered to him to disclose the secret, but he has constantly refused to accede to the terms. His charge is ten dollars for each patient, and he makes a comfortable livelihood by the practice. I made diligent inquiries while I remained in Sonora whether there having failed, but I could hear of no one case where were any instances known of the Indian's antidote it had been unsuccessful."

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"Thrown overboard from the packet-ship South America, by the passengers, March 1833, in the Gulf Stream, off Cape Cod, lat. 40°. 30'. long. 68°. O'. west. The finder is earnestly requested to publish this in the nearest newspaper to which it may be found, to show the currents of the ocean, and oblige the passengers, as well as confer a benefit on science."

"It cannot but be regarded as a singular circumstance (says the editor of the Liverpool Times), that this bottle, thrown into the Gulf Stream, off the United States of America, should have floated to within a few miles of the port in Europe from which the South America sailed, supposing her to have been on her outward voyage, or to which she was sailing, suppos. ing her to have been bound for Liverpool. A gale from the north, or a slight temporary change in the current, would have brought it into the Mersey, to the captain of the South America, who saw it launched off Cape Cod.

The object of the passengers who committed this bottle to the waves, namely, the determination of the course taken by the currents of the ocean, is one of great interest to science, and much importance to navigation; and it is satisfactory, as a confirmation of the most judicious of the existing theories on this subject, to find that the bottle thrown overboard by the passengers of the South America, has arrived at the part of the world, which, according to the opinions of Humboldt and others, it was most likely to reach. The theory so ably laid down by that distinguished traveller, respecting the currents of the North Atlantic, and founded both on his own observations and those of numerous voyagers, is pretty well known; but as some of our readers may not be acquainted with it, we shall state it very briefly, for the purpose of show. ing the causes by which the bottle thrown into the sea, on the coast of Massachussetts, and washed on shore at Southport, must have been impelled.

HARDY, in his Travels in Mexico, gives the following account of the practice of curing hydrophobia in that country:"I was at San Miguel de Horcasitas (says he), where a person afflicted with hydrophobia was tied up to a post with strong cords, and a priest was administering the last offices of religion. At the approach of a paroxysm, the unfortunate sufferer, with infuriated looks, desired the priest to get out of the way, for that he felt a desire to bite every body he could eatch hold of. An old woman who was present said the would undertake his cure; and although there were none who believed it possible that she could effect it, yet the hope that she might do so, and the certainty of the patient's death if nothing were attempted, bore down all opposition, and her services were accepted. She poured a powder into half a glass of water, mixed it well, and in the intervals between the paroxysms, she forced the mixture down his throat. The effects were exactly such as she had predicted namely, that he would almost instantly lose all power In that part of the Atlantic which lies between Seover his bodily and mental faculties, and that a death- negal, on the African coast, and the Caribean Sea, of like stupor would prevail, without any symptoms of America, the trade-winds, incessantly blowing across animation, for twenty-four or forty-eight hours, ac- the Atlantic, give to its waters a current which flows cording to the strength of his constitution; that at the constantly from east to west, at the rate of nine or ten end of this period, the effects of the mixture would miles in twenty-four hours; that is, with about onearouse the patient, and its violent operation, as emetic fourth of the velocity of the principal rivers of Europe. and cathartic, would last about ten or fifteen minutes, So steady and constant is this current, that, in the after which he would be able to get upon his legs, and year 1770, a small vessel, laden with corn, and bound would feel nothing but the debility which had been from the island of Lancerote to Santa Cruz, in Teneproduced by the combined effects of the disease and riffe, having been driven to sea when none of the crew the medicine. She mentioned also that the fluid to was on board, crossed the Atlantic, and reached Labe discharged from the stomach would be as black as guayra, near Caraccas, on the north coast of South charcoal, and offensive to the smell. All this literally America, where it was driven on shore. Supposing it took place at the end of about twenty-six hours, and not to have been detained by contrary winds, it would the patient was liberated from one of the most horri-have performed the voyage in about thirteen months. ble and affecting deaths to which mortality is subject. The waters of the current, entering the Gulf of Mexico She had her own way of accounting for the effects of between False Cape and Cape Antonio, follow the this disease. She termed it a local complaint attack-bendings of the Mexican coast to the mouth of the ing the mouth, which by degrees it irritates and in- Mississippi, pass to the southern extremity of Florida, flames; this ripens the virus, which is conveyed to and there throw themselves with great velocity into the brain by means of the nerves, and is received also the narrow gulf of that name. The stream was there into the stomach with the saliva. The poison thus observed by Humboldt to flow northward, with a vematured in the mouth, and at the root of the tongue, locity of eighty miles in twenty-four hours; but as it converts the whole of the fluids of the stomach into a advances into the open sea, it becomes broader and less poisonous bile, which, if it be not quickly removed, rapid. Its course may, however, be distinctly traced communicates with the blood, and shortly destroys life. by the high temperature, the intense saltness, and the The following is the method of cure:-The person deep indigo colour of its waters, as well as by the heat under the influence of this disease must be well seof the atmosphere, and the shoals of tropical sea-weed cured, that he may do no mischief either to himself or which cover its surface. To the east of the port of others. Soak a rennet in a little more than half a Boston, in 41° 25' of latitude, and 67° of longitude tumbler of water, for about five minutes. When (that is, within a short distance of the point where the this has been done, add of pulverised savadilla as bottle picked up at Southport was thrown overboard), much as may be taken up by the thumb and three the Gulf Stream being here eighty leagues broad, takes fingers. Mix it thoroughly, and give it to the patient an easterly direction, and divides into two streams, (that is, force it down his throat in an interval be- one crossing the Atlantic to the E.S. E., passing the tween the paroxysms). The patient is then to be put Azores, the month of the Straits of Gibraltar, the Ca. into the sun if possible (or placed near the fire), and nary Isles, and reaching the African coast between well warmed. If the first dose tranquillise him after Capes Cantin and Bajador; the other, changing its a short interval, no more is to be given; but if he con- course near the bank of Bonnet Flamond, runs from

the south to the north-east, and reaches the western coasts of the British Isles. By the former of thess currents, the bodies of the natives of the new world, and the gigantic bamboos seen by Columbus on the coasts of the Azores, which convinced him of the ex.

istence of a new world, and inspired him with the design of discovering it, were brought from the tropical regions of America to the Western Isles; by the lat ter, fruits of American tropical plants, barrels of French wine, the remains of cargoes wrecked in the West Indies, and in one case the wreck of an English vessel, the Tilbury, burnt near Jamaica, have been washed on shore on the coast of Scotland. On these coasts, also, various kinds of tortoises are sometimes found, that inhabit the water of the Antilles; and in 1682 and 4, American savages of the Esquimaux race, hav. ing been driven to sea in a storm, reached the Orkrey Islands in safety, after crossing the Atlantic. By this stream, the bottle thrown into the sea near Boston and its course thus furnishes another proof of the cormust have been brought to the coast of Lancashire; rectness of Humboldt's theory, of this current's movements."

A HUMBUG AUTHOR.

Let us put a case; suppose that Goëthe's death had occurred fifty years ago, that is, in the year 1785, what would have been the general impression? Would sensible even of the event? Not at all: it would Europe have felt a shock? Would Europe have been have been obscurely noticed in the newspapers of Germany, as the death of a novelist who had produced some effect about ten years before. In 1832, it was announced by the post-horns of all Europe as the death of him who had written the Wilhelm Meister, the Iphigenie, and the Faust, and who had been enthroned by some of his admirers on the same seat with Homer and Shakspeare, as composing what they termed the trinity of men of genius. And yet it is a fact that, in the opinion of some amongst the acknowledged leaders of our own literature for the last twenty-five years, the Werther was superior to all which followed it, and for mere power was the pars. mount work of Goëthe. For ourselves, we must ac knowledge our assent upon the whole to this verdict; and at the same time we will avow our belief that the reputation of Goethe must decline for the next generation or two, until it reaches its just level. Three causes, we are persuaded, have concurred to push it so far beyond the proportion of real and genuine interest attached to his works, for in Germany his works are little read, and in this country not at all: First, his extraordinary age; for the last twenty years Goethe had been the patriarch of the German literature: secondly, the splendour of his official rank at the court of Weimar; he was the minister and pri vate friend of the patriot sovereign amongst the princes of Germany: thirdly, the quantity of enigmatical and unintelligible writing which he has designedly thrown into his later works, by way of keeping up a system of discussion and strife upon his own meaning amongst the critics of his country. These disputes, had his meaning been of any value in his own eyes, he would naturally have settled by a few authoritative words from himself; but it was his policy to keep alive the fend in a case where it was of importance that his name should continue to agitate the world, but of none at all that he should be rightly interpreted. New Edition of Encyclopædia Britannica.

SLAVES IN THE DIAMOND MINES.

The condition of those slaves, whose labours furnish the costly gems which sparkle on the bosom or amid the tresses of beauty, forms a striking contrast with that of the classes whom they eurich or adorn by their toil. A wretched species of food, scantily doled out, enables them to sustain for a few years the weight of their misery. Being forced to remain a whole year with their feet all day in the water, living on food little strengthening or nutritious, and generally cold or badly cooked, they are subject to enfeebling disorders, arising from the debilitated state of the alimentary ca nal. Frequently, moreover, they incur the risk of being crushed by the falling rocks or avalanches of earth which suddenly detach themselves from the face of the precipices. Nevertheless, such is the wretchedness of their condition in the domestic or particular service of their owners, such the natural appetite of man for gain, such the force of the most remote expectations of liberty, that these unfortunate beings, hard as is their labour, and badly as they are fed, exhibit a decided preference for their species of employment.

BANTAM COCK.

It is worthy of remark, that the real Bantam cock -that is, the native East Indian species of that name is not diminutive, like the little feathery creature so called in Britain, but a very large bird, aud often tall enough to peck off a common dining-table.-Barrow's Voyage to Cochin-China.

LONDON: Published, with Permission of the Proprietors, by ORR

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Stereotyped by A. Kirkwood, Edinburgh. Printed by Bradbury and Evans (late T. Davison), Whitefriars.

HO

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CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "THE BOOK OF SCOTLAND," &c., AND BY ROBERT CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "TRADITIONS OF EDINBURGH," "PICTURE OF SCOTLAND," &c.

No. 168.

A STORY OF THE TABLE D'HOTE. LAST autumn, while residing for a short time in Paris at an hotel adjoining the Rue St Honoré, at which was a table d'hote or ordinary, resorted to both by the inmates of the house and by strangers, I had an opportunity of hearing the relation of a number of incidents by different individuals, which did not fail to interest 'me. It is not customary at these Parisian ordinaries to sit after dinner, as in England; all retire immediately after the important matter of dinner is discussed. On the occasion I mention, however, there happened to be five or six English and Scotch residing at the hotel, and, by a natural feeling of nationality, they fell into a species of acquaintance with each other, and made a practice of sitting an hour or so

after dinner, when all the French and other gentlemen had retired, telling one another where they had been, what they had seen in their various tours, and on what routes they intended to proceed, and so forth -all the while sipping some of those light, delicate, and refreshing wines for which the capital of France is so famous. At these pleasing after-dinner chats enlivened as they were by the buoyancy of feeling which is usually produced by travelling, the delightful sunny atmosphere which prevailed both within and without, and the humming sounds of music, played by a band of wandering Italian minstrels in the court in front of the hotel-I was, as may easily be supposed, a willing listener. There was one gentleman in particular, an Englishman, approaching middle age, and of cheerful aspect, who entertained the company with the recital of several interesting stories and incidents, both of a tragic and comic nature, in which he had, chanced to be an actor in the course of his extensive wanderings. He was, as he informed his auditors, a person who, for several years, had devoted his time and fortune to travelling. Journeying from country to country had become to him a passion, like that of the adventurous Sinbad. It was immaterial to him what route he pursued; change of scene, for the sake of health and recreation, was his principal object. He had visited most parts of Europe, from the North Cape to the Pillars of Hercules, and was now in Paris previous to setting out to Marseilles, whence he intended to proceed to Alexandria, in Egypt, with the view of visiting the Cataracts of the Nile. He spoke the French, German, Italian, and some other tongues, with fluency; very frequently travelled on foot, with little else in the shape of luggage than his purse and his passport, and with no other arms than a pretty stout walking-stick, which could be used with advantage as a cudgel in genuine English style when necessity required.

SATURDAY, APRIL 18, 1835.

vessels; innumerable boats were gliding round the
ships. Every object on the rocky coast of Sweden
was distinctly seen, while, on the Danish side, the
island of Zealand seemed one vast and luxuriant gar-
den. I shall pass over my visit to the celebrated
vaults of the Castle and to Hamlet's garden, and
transport myself at once to Copenhagen.

After having satisfied myself with a minute survey
of the Danish capital, I began to explore the surround-
ing country; and being an excellent pedestrian, I
used often to ramble about from dawn to sunset, seek-
ing rest and refreshment in any cottage that chance
threw in my way.

man.

I.

66

In the course of one of these rambles, and while
Proceeding in the direction of Elsinore, I was over-
taken by a sudden storm. The thunder growled, the
lightning flashed, and the rain came down in such
torrents, that, hardy as I was, and inured to such ac-
cidents, I was fain to look round for shelter; and ob-
serving a cottage through an opening in the trees,
I hastened towards it. My request for shelter was
cheerfully complied with, by Peter Jansen, the owner
of the cottage; his wife kindly pressed me to take
some refreshment, while their daughter brought me
a seat. Being well acquainted with the Danish lan-
guage, I entered into conversation with the good old
"You seem to be very comfortable here," said
Yes, truly, that I am," he replied; " I have rea-
son to be contented with my lot: I have sufficient
means for the support of my family; I have a good
wife, a son to work for me, and," continued he, looking
at his daughter with a good-humoured smile, "a
daughter to plague me." The old man went on to
tell me that his son, Joseph, who was daily expected
home, was a sailor, and that his daughter, who was
betrothed to a young sailor, a shipmate of her bro-
ther, was in the service of a lady residing near Co-
penhagen, who had permitted her to spend a few days
with her parents. So soon, however, as the impor-
the family was over, she was to return to her parents'
tant business of preparing the winter provisions of
house, when the wedding was to be celebrated. There
was an appearance of so much worth and goodness
about these simple people, that I willingly complied
with their invitation to remain all night under their
roof. After having partaken of their frugal repast of
rye-bread, milk, and eggs, I was conducted to a neat
chamber, where I slept as sound as a top till next
morning. Soon after breakfast I took leave of my
hosts, who would not accept of any remuneration
from me, saying that if his sailor boy ever visited
my fatherland, England, I should repay what I
had received in kind. This I promised to do; and
after having accepted an invitation to witness the
marriage of Elise with Eric Polsen, I set out on my
return to Copenhagen. I had not, however, proceeded
far when I heard some one running after me, and

It was this gentleman's custom, as I have men-
tioned, to entertain the company after dinner with
the relation of some amusing incidents in which he
had been personally engaged; and one afternoon, the
conversation happening to turn on the subject of exe-calling on me to stop. I turned round, and was sur-
cations, and the danger of juries condemning prisoners
on circumstantial evidence, he was pleased to relate
the following story, as one of the most extraordinary
of its kind which had come within his knowledge, and
which will be found to be verified by the records of
the supreme criminal court of the country in which it
took place.

Having resolved to visit Denmark, I embarked on board a vessel bound for Elsinore, where I arrived in good health and spirits, after a very delightful pas. sage. I visited, of course, the Castle of Cronenburg, a magnificent edifice built by Frederick II., and from the ramparts I enjoyed a prospect of surpassing beauty. Beneath lay the Sound, covered with a multitude of

prised to see Elise running up the hill, quite out of
breath with the haste which she had made to over-
take me. I observed that she held something in her
hand, which, on her nearer approach, I discovered to
be my purse. "Oh, sir," cried she, "I was so afraid
I would not overtake you. You left your purse on the
table, and we were so vexed, for we did not know
where to send it to you; and what would have be
come of you without your purse in a foreign land?"
"Why, my amiable Elise," I replied, "if all hearts
were as good and as kind as those I found under your
roof, I should not have missed it much." I pressed
her to take a piece of gold, but she steadily refused;
and after reminding me of my promise to be present

PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.

at her marriage, and expressing many good wishes for my journey, she returned home, and I pursued my way to Copenhagen, which, however, I soon after left on a tour through the country.

I returned to the capital a short time previous to the period fixed for the marriage of Elise, and my employment on arriving in Copenhagen was to purchase for her a quantity of bridal finery, and some useful household furniture; and on a clear fine morning, I set out to visit my former host.

On approaching the cottage, I observed that an unusual stillness reigned around. The door was closed, and the curtain of the little window of the room which the family generally occupied was closely drawn. I feared that some evil had befallen them. I knocked softly, but no one seemed to observe it; so I lifted the latch, and entered. But how were my feelings shocked at the scene which met my view! The good old man sat with his hands over his eyes, apparently overwhelmed with grief; his snow-white hair hung in disorder round his face. His wife stood leaning over him, her eyes red and swollen with weeping, while a tall handsome youth, in a sailor's dress, was pacing about the room, while big tears rolled down his sunburnt cheek. I looked round for Elise; she was not there, and I doubted not that her parents were mourning her loss. "My good friends," said I, advancing, "I sympathise in your affliction; this is a sad stroke for parents to suffer." "You have heard, then ?" said Peter, in a stified voice. "I have heard nothing," I replied; "but I find you in grief: I do not see your daughter: she has been taken from you: lament not too deeply an early death: she has been removed, but, I trust, to a happier country." The old man groaned. "Joseph," said he to the young sailor, "tell him your sister's state; I cannot." "Although all Denmark were to pronounce her guilty, I will not credit it," exclaimed Joseph, with impetuosity; "but what boots it," continued he, dashing away a tear; "who will believe me?"

A considerable time elapsed before the sufferers were sufficiently composed to inform me of the cause of their grief, of which I at length collected the following particulars :-A few days after I had last visited them, Elise returned to the family in whose service she was engaged. About this period, her mistress, Madame Muller, began to complain of miss. ing valuable articles of wearing apparel, which Elise, under whose charge the articles were placed, declared must have been stolen from the paddock in which the clothes were dried. The losses at first were few, and Madame Muller, after enjoining a more strict watch to be kept, passed them over; but this seemed only to embolden the culprit: and when damask napkins, laces, and many other expensive articles, disappeared, madame became exasperated, and charged Elise with having secreted them. Elise protested her total innocence, but in vain. The articles had been especially committed to her charge: they had been put into the paddock to dry: this paddock, which afforded pasture for a cow, was surrounded by a wall so exceedingly high as to render it impossible that any one would venture over it. What made the affair appear still more against poor Elise, was the fact that these thefts were committed in open day, the clothes never being left in the green after dusk, and also that the window of the laundry looked into the paddock; so that, if any one had come over the wall, Elise must have seen them. Poor Elise could only declare that she put out the things to dry; that she had seen no person enter the paddock; but what became of the things, she knew not.

Matters were in this state when a small silver spoon disappeared; a servant recollected having seen it in Elise's hand, who said that she had been using it for making starch, and that she laid it down on the outer sill of the laundry window for a few minutes, while she went up to her mistress's chamber with some clothes, and that when she returned the spoon was gone. The servants all being examined, swore that they had never gone near the window, and that no one but the family had entered the house: in short, every one believed that Elise was secreting these things for her new household; she was charged with theft, and committed to prison, and the time appointed for her trial was fast approaching.

You may well suppose how much I was distressed by this account. The silent affliction of the parents, and the more stormy grief of the young and ardent sailor, affected me deeply, "My friends," said I, "do not despair. She is innocent: I am certain she is inno

cent." As I said this the young man wrung my hand. "Oh, sir," he exclaimed, "what a comfort it is to hear these words; but how shall we be able to prove her innocence ?" "I can declare, what at least is presumptive proof, that she is incapable of committing this crime," I replied; and I then reminded them of the incident of her bringing me the purse, and of her refusal to accept of the gold I offered her-circumstances which I hoped would weigh greatly in her favour.

and establish her innocence; but, in the meantime,
she would be put to an ignominious death, and it
would serve little purpose to have her innocence
proved after she had yielded up her life. With these
impressions on my mind, I lost no time in trying to
procure a delay to her execution, or a mitigation of
her sentence, in which I was assisted by the humane
clergyman who attended her in prison. Through the
kindness of the British ambassador, I procured an
audience of one of the principal men of the court,
who filled an office resembling that of our English
Secretary of State. To this nobleman I communi-
cated all that I knew and felt respecting Elise's case,
the honesty of her family, and her own hitherto un-
impeachable character; and besought him to procure
for her the merciful interposition of the reigning
prince. "Stay but the execution for a few weeks,"
said I, "and I have no doubt whatever but the inno.
cence of the young woman will in that interval be
made apparent." My urgent representations did not,

however, seem to be of much avail: the baron was
a courteous, but a somewhat positive man: he did
not like it to be supposed that he required any one to
suggest the line of policy which he should follow.
Bowing me out of the bureau, he said he would think
of what I had represented to him, and see what could
be done. Elise's religious attendant was at the same
time busy in another quarter, and we yielded ourselves
to a faint hope that the execution would be stayed,
or the punishment altered.

parent. From gloom and sadness, all became suddenly joy and hilarious exclamation. I confess my inability to depict the scene which followed in a way it deserves to be pourtrayed. So let me explain in a few words the cause of so happy a termination to this singular drama.

Perhaps you may smile, gentlemen, when I inform you that the true culprit-the only robber of Madame Muller's premises-was discovered to be no one else than the cow which browsed in the paddock be. hind her mansion. Its voracity in seizing upon and swallowing articles certainly ill calculated to serve it for food, was discovered in time to save poor Elise's life. The animal was slaughtered; and in a cavity in its stomach was found the spoon which had been carried off so mysteriously; a fact which explained every thing else.

The news of this remarkable event, and the release of the deeply wronged Elise, were received by all classes of citizens with the utmost gratification. Crowds from who would permit no restraint on account of his reall parts of the city-and, among the rest, Eric Polsen, cent illness-attended at the prison to congratulate the now fully acquitted Elise. A shout of joy met her ear, as she stepped forth hanging on the arm of her lover; the best men in the city shook her by the hand; her virtue and fortitude were the theme of every tongue; and when I departed from Copenhagen on my journey through Holstein to Keil, I had the ex. cecding pleasure of leaving her comfortably married, and restored to the affections of her parents.

confined to cotton cloth, as the term calico-printing would lead us to suppose. It is applied also to linen, silk, and woollen cloth; but as the processes are in general the same, I shall satisfy myself with describing them as applied to cotton, because it is with them that I am best acquainted.

The general opinion is, that this ingenious art ori. ginated in India, and that it has been known in that country for a very long period. From a passage in Pliny, who probably composed his Natural History about the middle of the first century of the Christian era, it is evident that calico-printing was understood and practised in Egypt in his time, but unknown in Italy.

My exertions to console these good people were not without effect, and they gradually became more composed. I learned from them that Joseph was to re- Day after day fled, yet each descending sun shone CALICO-PRINTING. turn next day to Copenhagen, to take every possible upon Elise at the grating of her dungeon. Time flies CALICO-PRINTING is the art of applying one or more step to prove the innocence of his sister, and that Eric on with frightful rapidity, when the moments are colours to particular parts of cloth, so as to represent Polsen was already there, and eager to assist in clear-counted by those who are condemned to die on the leaves, flowers, &c., and the beauty depends partly on ing the fame of his betrothed. The greater part of the scaffold. The eve of the day of execution at length the elegance of the pattern, and partly upon the bril night was spent in discoursing on this melancholy sub- arrived, and it harrows up my very soul when I recalliancy and contrast of the colours. The process is not jeet. Early next morning I returned to the city, ac- to remembrance the horrible preparations which were companied by Joseph; and I repaired without delay making for the taking away of the life of one of the to the prison, where I was permitted to see my young most simple and amiable creatures that ever breathed. friend, with whom I had a long interview. If any That night I could not retire to my place of residence doubt of her innocence had arisen in my mind, her in the town; I wandered round the prison in a sort demeanour would alone have been sufficient to dispel of distraction, while the stillness was ever and anon them. Her ingenuous countenance was indeed clouded broken by the noise which the workmen made in erectby grief, but no secret feeling of guilt troubled her ing the scaffold, and preparing the apparatus of death calm brow. I conversed a long time with her, but Morning dawned, and as soon as I could gain an enwithout gaining any information which could lead to trance, I repaired to the prison with a heavy heart. Elise the discovery of the real culprit. I learned that she was pale, but perfectly composed. After thanking me was on the most friendly terms with all her fellow-for the interest I had taken in her misfortune, she said servants; that they gave evidence against her with the greatest reluctance; and that they all bore the highest testimony to her character, previous to the time at which these thefts were committed. I shall not dwell on the details of the trial: suffice it to say, that the proofs of her guilt, upon the strongest circumstantial evidence that could be produced, appeared beyond a doubt. It was proved by the witnesses that the articles missing had been in Elise's hands the last time they were seen; and it was shown in an especial manner that the silver spoon, of which she was accused of robbing her mistress, had disappeared in such a way that no one else could have taken it. The unfortunate Elise could urge no defence that made any impression on her judges. In their opinion, she was clearly convicted of the heinous offence of carrying on a regular depredation of her mistress's property; and, according to the cruel laws of the country, was condemned to death.

You may easily imagine, gentlemen, that the announcement of such a barbarous sentence-granting even that the poor girl had been guilty-was calculated to harrow up the feelings of all who were any way acquainted with the culprit's character, her family, and her prospects of future happiness. I took on myself the painful task of breaking the afflicting intelligence to the parents; but the shock was so severe as to lay the good old man on a sick bed, from which it seemed more than probable that he would never rise. Joseph stifled his own grief, and strove to console and comfort his sister under this terrible stroke. But the grief of Eric would not be controlled, and a brain fever was the consequence of the agonies of his mind. I never allowed a day to pass without visiting the poor prisoner. Conscious of her innocence, she had never ceased to believe that this would be manifested, till the fatal sentence put a period to her hopes; but she bore her affliction meekly, and courageously prepared to meet her fate.

The more that I saw of the unhappy Elise, the more did I feel myself interested in her case. I perceived she was the victim of some extraordinary mystery, which would sooner or later be cleared up,

"I have yet another favour to ask you: will you de-
liver these tokens of my affection to my dear parents
and friends ?" I promised to fulfil her last wishes,
and she then gave me a number of little packages, a
lock of hair to her parents, and a favourite brooch
for Joseph. Her companions and fellow-servants
were not forgotten. There was a cross for one; a
string of amber beads for another; some little gift for
every one. She also made me the bearer of a letter
to Eric, to be given to him should his life and senses
be spared. "Pardon me, sir," said she, with a smile,
"for tasking your kindness so deeply; but I feared
that if I addressed my dear brother on this subject,
his grief would destroy the fortitude which I have
struggled so severely to acquire."

Joseph now entered: but I shall pass over the
scene that followed. It is many years since I wit-
nessed it, but the recollection still brings tears to
my eyes.
As she was conducted to the scaffold, the
whole spectators were in tears. Her youthful and
modest appearance, her sweet and ingenuous coun.
tenance, and her air of resignation and piety, inte-
rested every heart: sobs and groans were heard
through every part of the assembled multitude; wo-
men wept aloud, and many a grey-bearded man turned
aside to dash away the large drops that fell from his
eyes. The feelings of her brother almost baffle de-
scription. On first encountering the moving mass
assembled to witness his sister's execution, Joseph
looked around with an expression of fierceness and
disdain; but on meeting their sympathising glances,
and seeing the tears that bedewed their faces, his
countenance changed, and he appeared nearly suffo-
cated by emotion.

The fatal moment at length arrived; the term of
her earthly sufferings was about to close, when a
sudden tumult arose at the extremity of the crowd.
I heard a confused murmur, which gradually in-
creased in loudness. The sensation, as it soon ap-
peared, was caused by the approach of an officer of
government, bearing an order to release the culprit,
a pardon having been granted in her favour, or rather,
as it appeared, her innocence having been made ap-

"There exists in Egypt," says he, "a wonderful method of dyeing. The white cloth is stained in various places, not with dye-stuffs, but with substances which have the property of absorbing (fixing) colours. These applications are not visible upon the cloth; but when the pieces are dipt into a hot cauldron containing the dye, they are drawn out an instant after, dved. The remarkable circumstance is, that though there he only one dye in the vat, yet different colours appear on the cloth; nor can the colours be again removed." That this description of Pliny ap lies to calico-printing, will be evident to every person who will take the trouble to read the account of the processes which we are going to give.

The colours applied to calico in India are beautiful and fast. The variety of their patterns, and the great number of colours which they understood how to fix on different parts of the cloth, gave to their printed calicoes a richness and a value of no ordinary kind. But their processes are so tedious, and their machinery so clumsy, that they could be employed only where labour is so cheap as to be scarcely any object to the manufacturer. It is little more than a century and a half since calico-printing was transferred from India to Europe, and little more than a century since it began to be understood in Great Bri tain. The European nations who have made the greatest progress in it, are Switzerland, France, espe cially in Alsace, some parts of Germany, Belgium,

and Great Britain.

In Europe, the art has been in some measure created anew. By the application of machinery, and by the light thrown on the processes by the rapid improvements in chemistry, the tedious methods of the Indians have been wonderfully simplified; while the they are executed, and for the beauty and variety processes are remarkable for the rapidity with which

and fastness of the colours.

I propose in this paper to give a sketch of the dif. ferent processes of calico-printing, such as they are at present practised by the most skilful printers in Lancashire, and in the neighbourhood of Glasgow. The cotton cloth, after being woven, is subjected to

We have abridged this article from a most minute and scientific account of the art of calico-printing, given by Professor

Thomson of Glasgow, in the first and third numbers of a periodi cal recently commenced, entitled "Records of General Science, relative to improvements in the arts and sciences.

to which we would refer our readers for much useful information

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several preliminary processes before it is fit for calicoprinting. It will be sufficient merely to allude to them. They are singeing and bleaching. The singeing is intended to remove the fibres of cotton which protrude on the surface of the cloth. This is done by passing the cloth rapidly over the surface of a red-hot iron cylinder, which burns off all the hairs, or protruding fibres of the cotton, without injuring the cloth. Of late years, an ingenious coal-gas apparatus has been substituted for the red-hot iron, both in Manchester and Glasgow.

The bleaching of cotton consists essentially of four different processes:-1. The cloth is boiled with lime and water; it is then washed clean. 2. It is steeped for some hours in a solution of chloride of lime, or bleaching powder, as it is usually called. From this steep also it is washed clean. 3. It is boiled in a solution of American potash. After the duty was taken off common salt, carbonate of soda (and consequently caustic soda) became so cheap, that it gradually took the place of pearl ashes. 4. The cloth is now almost bleached; it requires only to be steeped in water holding in solution about four per cent. of sulphuric acid, to complete the process. Cotton cloth, at an average, takes about two days to bleach. But when there happens to be occasion for greater dispatch, it is no uncommon thing to complete the bleaching and callendering in twenty-four hours.

The cloth being bleached or prepared, is now ready for being subjected to the printing processes. There are two modes of printing, namely, block-printing and cylinder-printing. The former has been practised from time immemorial; the latter is a modern invention, and originated probably after the introduction of the art of printing into Great Britain.

The block is a piece of sycamore (or, more commonly, a fir board, on which a piece of sycamore is glued) on which the pattern intended to be printed on the cloth is cut. The parts which are to make the impression are left prominent, while the rest of the block is cut away, just as is practised for wood engravings. When the pattern is too complicated, and the lines too fine to be cut in wood, they are made by means of small pieces of copper drawn out into narrow ribbons of the requisite fineness; these are ingeniously driven into the block, and the intervals are filled up with felt. Great patience and ingenuity are displayed in making these blocks for use, and calicoprinters are under the necessity of keeping a number of workmen, at high wages, for that express purpose. The inventors and drawers of the patterns constitute another class of ingenious artists, in the pay of the calico-printers, at high wages.

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and, 3. Peroxide of iron. These mordants fix the colours; and when the printers wish to discharge a colour from cloth, they employ something that will dissolve the mordant. The dischargers are either acids, or substances having a strong affinity for oxygen. The colouring matters which are employed are partly from vegetable, partly from metallic solutions; and they are less or more brought out by chemical action. A substance called resist paste is used to cover those parts of the cloth which are to remain white. The goods are passed through hot water containing cowdung, and well washed before they are dried. One of the most interesting processes in calicoprinting is that which relates to the producing of bandana handkerchiefs, of a Turkey-red colour, embellished with white spots, stars, or crosses. The enormous trouble incurred in calico-printing may be understood by a perusal of the account of this process What is called by the name of the Turkey-red dye has long been known in the Levant, and in different parts of Turkey. From that country it made its way to France, and about fifty years ago it was begun in Glas. gow, by a Mr Papillon, who established a Turkey-red dyework along with Mr M'Intosh. He made an agreement with the commissioners and trustees for manufactures in Scotland, that the process was to be by them published for the benefit of the public at the end of a certain term of years. Accordingly, in the year 1803, the trustees laid a minute account of the different steps before the public. The process has been followed in Glasgow ever since, and many improvements have been introduced. The method of discharging the colour was first practised on an extensive scale by Henry Monteath and Company, at Rutherglen Bridge. It is probable that the process was discovered by more than one individual about the same time. I know of at least three claimants; but not having the means of determining the priority of any of them, I think it better to avoid uncertain details.

The method of fixing the Turkey-red dye on cloth is complicated and tedious. I shall here give a sketch of the different steps, and explain them so far as they are understood.

1. The cloth is steeped in a weak alkaline ley, to remove the weaver's dressing. This is technically called the rot steep. Four or five pounds of caustic potash are generally employed for every 100 lbs. of cloth. The temperature of the solution is from 100° to 120°; the cloth is kept in the steep for 24 hours, and then well washed.

2. From 7 to 10 lbs. of carbonate of soda are dis. solved in a sufficient quantity of water to keep the cloth (always supposed to weigh 100 lbs.) wet. In this solution the cloth is boiled for some time.

3. It is upon the third process that the beauty of the colour depends more than upon any other. Without it the dye cannot be produced upon new cloth; but when old cotton cloth that has been frequently washed (a cotton shirt for example) is to be dyed, this process may be omitted altogether."

The cylinder is a large cylinder of copper, about a yard in length, and four or five inches in diameter, 1 upon which the pattern to be printed on the cloth is engraved. This cylinder is made to revolve, and press against the cloth, taking up the mordants or colours to be printed on the cloth as it revolves. By this ingenious contrivance, two or even three different colours are printed on the cloth at once, and the A liquor is composed of the following ingredients: printing proceeds, without interruption, till a whole-1 gallon of gallipoli oil; 1 gallon of soft sheep-dung; piece, or indeed any number of pieces attached to each 4 gallons of a solution of carbonate of soda; 1 gallon other, are printed. of solution of pearl ash, mixed with a sufficient quantity of cold water to make up 22 gallons. This liquor has a milk-white appearance, and is in fact a kind of imperfect soap. It is put into a large wooden, open, cylindrical vessel called the liquor-tub, and is kept continually in motion (to prevent subsidence) by wooden levers, driven round in it by machinery. This liquor is conveyed by tin pipes to a kind of trough, in what is called the padding-machine, where the cloth is thoroughly soaked in it. The longer the cloth is allowed to remain impregnated with this liquor, the better does it take the dye. Fourteen days is the least period that this impregnation is allowed to remain.

Another method of printing is almost the same as copperplate printing. The pattern is engraved upon a flat copper plate, a yard or more square. Upon this plate, the colour or mordant to be applied is spread. It is then pulled. As it passes along, an elastic steel plate, called a doctor, takes off all the colour, except that which fills the engraving. Being pressed against the cloth in the act of pulling, it prints upon it either in mordants or colours, as may be the impression of the pattern. Whether the printing is applied by the block, the cylinder, or the flat plate, the treatment of the goods is nearly the same.

Most commonly the printing process is employed to fix the mordants upon the cloth, which is afterwards dyed in the usual way. Those parts only retain the colour which have imbibed the mordant, while the other parts of the cloth remain white. Sometimes acids, or other substances, are printed on cloth already dyed, to remove the colour from certain portions of it which are to be left white, or to receive some other colour.

Occasionally, substances are printed on cloth before it is dipt into the indigo vat, to prevent the blue colour from becoming fixed on those parts to which they are applied. Substances possessed of these properties are called resist pustes. It is a very common practice to communicate mordants and colouring matters to cloth

at the same time.

The sheep-dung gives the cloth a green colour, and is found materially to assist the bleaching process to which it is afterwards subjected. It is found to increase the rapidity of the bleaching, especially when the cloth is exposed on the grass between the different operations.

4. In favourable weather the cloth impregnated with the imperfect soap of No. 3, is spread upon the grass to dry; but in rainy weather it is dried in the stove.

5. The cloth thus dried is a second time impregnated with the oleaginous liquid of No. 3. It is then dried again. The impregnation and drying processes are repeated a third time.

6. The cloth is steeped in a weak solution of pearl ash, heated to the temperature of 120°. From this liquor it is wrung out and again dried.

7. A mixture is made of the following substances: caustic potash ley, diluted with as much water as will make up the whole to 22 gallons. In this liquid it is soaked as it was with that of No. 3.

The cloth thus impregnated is in fine weather dried on the grass, in rainy weather in the stove.

8. The process No. 7 is repeated thrice, and after each soaking the cloth is exposed for some hours on the grass, and finally dried in the stove.

The term mordant is applied by dyers to certain substances with which the cloth is impregnated be-1 gallon gallipoli oil; 3 gallons soda ley; 1 gallon fore it is dyed, otherwise the colour would not fix, but would disappear on washing or exposure to the light. The name was given by the French dyers (from the Latin word mordere, to bite), from a notion entertained by them that the action of mordants was mechanical, that they were of a corrosive or biting nature, and served merely to open the pores of the cloth, into which the colouring matter might insinuate itself. It is now understood that their action is chemical. They have an affinity to the cloth, which causes them to adhere to it; while the colouring matter has an affinity for, and adheres to, the mordant. The usual mordants employed by the calico-printer are the three following:—1. Alumina, or the alum mordant, which is made by dissolving alum in water, and adding acetate of lime to the solution; 2. Oxide of tin;

9. The cloth is steeped in a mixed ley of pearl ash and soda, of the specific gravity 1.01 to 1.0125, heated to the temperature of 120°. It is allowed to drain for some hours, and then well washed. It is then dried in the stove. The object of this process is to remove any superfluous oil which might adhere to the cloth. Should any such oil be present, the succeeding pro. cess, the galling, could not be accomplished.

10. For the galling, 18 lbs. of Aleppo galls are to be boiled for four or five hours in 25 gallons of water, till the bulk is reduced to about 20 gallons. This liquid, after straining, is strong enough to impregnate 100 lbs. of cloth, with the requisite quantity of nut galls. Of late years, sumach from Sicily has been substituted for nut galls; 33 lbs. of sumach being reckoned equivalent to 18 lbs. of nut galls. Sometimes a mixture of 9 lbs. of nut galls and 16 lbs. of sumach is employed.

In this liquor, heated to 80° or 100°, the cloth is fully soaked. The sumach gives the cloth a yellow colour, which serves to improve the madder-red by rendering it more lively.

11. The next process is to fix the alumina on the cloth. This step (as has already been observed) is essential, because without it the madder dye would not remain fixed.

In this country, alum is used by the manufacturers; but in many parts of the Continent acetate of alumina is employed. To form the alum liquor of the Turkeyred dyers, to a solution of alum of the specific gravity 1.04, as much pearl ash, soda, or chalk, is added, as is sufficient to precipitate the alumina contained in the alum. Through this muddy liquor (which should have a temperature from 100° to 120°), the cloth is passed and steeped for twelve hours. The alumina is imbibed by the cloth, and unites with its fibres. 12. The cloth thus united with alumina is stovedried, and then washed out of the alum liquor. 13. These essential preliminary steps having been taken, the cloth is ready to receive the red dye.

From 1 to 3 lbs. of madder, reduced to the state of powder, for every pound of cloth is employed; the quantity depending upon the shade of colour wanted. The cloth is entered into the boiler while the water is cold. It is made to boil in an hour, and the boiling is continued for two hours. During the whole of this time the cloth is passed through the dyeing liquor by means of the winch.

For every 25 lbs. of cloth dyed, one gallon of bullock's blood is added. This is the quantity of cloth dyed at once in a boiler. The addition of the blood is indispensable for obtaining a fine red colour. Many attempts have been made to leave it out, but they have been unsuccessful. I suspect that the colouring matter of blood is fixed upon the cloth. Its fine scarlet tint will doubtless improve the colour of madder

red.

14. Madder contains two colouring matters, a brown and a red. Both are fixed on the cloth by the dyeing process, giving the cloth a brownish red, and rather disagreeable colour. The brown colour is not nearly so fixed as the red. The object of the next process, called the clearing process, is to get rid of the brown colouring matter. The cloth is boiled for twelve or fourteen hours in a mixture of 5lbs. soda, 8lbs. soap, and from 16 to 18 gallons of residual liquid of No. 9, with a sufficient quantity of water. By this boiling the brown colouring matter is mostly removed, and the cloth begins to assume the fine tint which characterises Turkey-red dyed cloth. It is still farther improved by the next process.

15. Five or six pounds of soap, and from sixteen to eighteen ounces of protochloride of tin, in crystals, are dissolved in water in a globular boiler into which the cloth is put. The boiler is then covered with a lid, which fits close, and the boiling is conducted under the pressure of two atmospheres, or at the tem perature of 250. The boiler is furnished with a safety valve and a small conical pipe, the extremity of which has an opening of about three-sixteenths of an inch in diameter, from which there issues a constant stream of steam during the operation. The salt of tin is found materially to improve the colour. Probably the oxide of tin combines with the oleagi nous acid of the soap (fixed in the cloth). This insoluble soap doubtless unites with the red colouring matter of the madder, and alters the shade.

16. After all these processes, the cloth is spread out on the grass, and exposed to the sun for a few days, which finishes the clearing.

Such is a very short but accurate sketch of the Turkey-red dyeing, as practised in the principal works in Glasgow. Many attempts have been made to shorten the processes, but hitherto without success. The impregnation with oil, or rather soap, is essential. If one, two, or three immersions be omitted, the red is inferior in proportion to the omissions. Doubtless this soap combines with and remains attached to the cloth. And the same remark applies to

common soap.

Cloth bleached with chloride of lime does not produce a good red. Doubtless the fibres of the cotton wool combine with lime, or rather with sulphate of lime, which, by decomposing the oleaginous soap, prevents it from combining with cloth. But cloth bleached by the old process, namely, boiling in ley or soap, and exposure to the action of the sun, answers perfectly. The colours would be as good without the galls as with them; but there would be considerable difficulty in sufficiently impregnating the cloth with the alum liquor, without its being previously passed through the alum decoction, especially if the cloth be in the least degree greasy.

The whole cloth is dyed Turkey-red. The white stars or spots constitute an after process, and are formed by discharging the dye by means of water im. pregnated with chlorine. Fifteen pieces of cloth, dyed Turkey-red, are laid flat upon each other on a plate of lead of the size of the pocket-handkerchief.

Another plate of lead is laid over them, and the two plates are pressed violently together, either by means of screws, or, in the more perfect establishments, by the Bramah press, exerting a pressure of about 200 tons. Through the upper plate are cut holes corresponding exactly with the star, cross, &c. to be discharged on the cloth. A solution of bleaching powder, mixed with an acid to set the chlorine at liberty, is made to flow over the upper plate, and forced by ingenious contrivances to pass through the cavities cut in the plate. It penetrates through all the fifteen pieces of cloth, discharging the colour, while the violent pressure effectually prevents it from spreading to those parts of the cloth which are to retain the colour. When this process was first put in practice, the edges of the holes in the lead were left sharp: the consequence of this was, that the violent pressure to which they were subjected caused them to cut the cloth, so that the whole spots soon fell out, leaving holes in their place. This was ascribed to the corrosive effect of the chlorine, whereas it was in reality owing to the bad construction of the leaden plates. Henry Monteath & Company were the first persons who manufactured these handkerchiefs, or bandanas, as they are called, and they realised by them a very large fortune.

OLD ENGLISH MANNERS.

NO. II.

THE COUNTRY GENTLEMAN OF THE TIME OF
QUEEN ANNE.

Or the English country gentleman of the time of
Queen Anne, no better picture can be found than in
those parts of the Spectator which relate to Sir Roger
de Coverley, a favourite character of Addison. Sir
Roger, it is true, is allowed to have a smack of ec-
centricity, and it is certain that some features of the
country gentleman of the time are in him rather
weakly brought out. Yet, as a whole, we believe the
portraiture to be not only the best of its kind in ex-
istence, but one of the most delightful things in En-
glish literature. We therefore make no scruple of
extracting from the well-known book in question, as
much of the papers respecting Sir Roger as may be
necessary to convey an idea of the person described
in the above title.

"The first of our society is a gentleman of Worcestershire, of ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir Roger de Coverley. His great grandfather was inventor of that famous country-dance which is called after him. All who know that shire are very well acquainted with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that is very singular in his behaviour, but his singularities proceed from his good sense, and are contradictions to the manners of the world, only as he thinks the world is in the wrong. How. ever, this humour creates him no enemies, for he does nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his being unconfined to modes and forms makes him but the readier and more capable to please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town, he lives in Soho Square. It is said he keeps himself a bachelor, by reason he was crossed in love by a perverse beautiful widow of the next county to him. Before this disap. pointment, Sir Roger was what you call a fine gentle man, had often supped with my Lord Rochester and Sir George Etherege, fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked Bully Dawson in a pub. lic coffeehouse for calling him youngster. But being ill-used by the above-mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year and a half; and though, his temper being naturally jovial, he at last got over it, he grew careless of himself, and never dressed afterwards. He continues to wear a coat and doublet of the same cut that were in fashion at the time of his repulse, which, in his merry humours, he tells us has been in and out twelve times since he first wore it. He is now in his fifty-sixth year, cheerful, gay, and hearty; keeps a good house both in town and country; a great lover of mankind; but there is such a mirthful cast in his behaviour, that he is rather beloved than esteemed. His tenants grow rich, his servants look satisfied, all the young women profess love to him, and the young men are glad of his company; when he comes into a house on a visit, he calls the servants by their names, and talks all the way up stairs. I must not omit, that Sir Roger is a justice of the quorum; that he fills the chair at a quarter-session with great abilities, and three months ago gained universal applause by explaining a passage in the game act. Having often received an invitation from my friend Sir Roger de Coverley to pass away a month with him in the country, I last week accompanied him thither, and am settled with him for some time at his country house. Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted with my humour, lets me rise and go to bed when I please, dine at his own table or in my chamber as I think fit, sit still and say nothing without bidding me be merry. I am the more at ease in his family, because it consists of sober and stayed persons; for as the knight is the best master in the world, he seldom changes his servants; and as he is beloved by all about him, his servants never care for leaving him; by this means his domestics are all in years, and grown old with their master. You would take his valet-de-chambre for his

brother, his butler is grey-headed, his groom is one of
the gravest men that I have ever seen, and his coach-
man has the looks of a privy-councillor. You see the
goodness of the master even in the old house-dog, and
in a grey pad that is kept in the stable with great care
and tenderness, out of regard to his past services,
though he has been useless for several years.
I could not but observe, with a great deal of plea-
sure, the joy that appeared in the countenance of these
ancient domestics upon my friend's arrival at his coun-
try seat; some of them could not refrain from tears
at the sight of their old master; every one of them
pressed forward to do something for him, and seemed
discouraged if they were not employed. At the same
time, the good old knight, with a mixture of the father
and the master of the family, tempered the inquiries
after his own affairs with several kind questions re-
lating to themselves. This humanity and good na-
ture engages every body to him, so that when he is
pleasant upon any of them, all his family are in good
humour, and none so much as the person whom he
diverts himself with; on the contrary, if he coughs,
or betrays any infirmity of old age, it is easy for a
stander-by to observe a secret concern in the looks of
all his servants.

My chief companion, when Sir Roger is diverting
himself in the woods or the fields, is a very venerable
man who is ever with Sir Roger, and has lived at his
house in the nature of a chaplain above thirty years.
This gentleman is a person of good sense and some
learning, of a very regular life and obliging conversa-
tion; he heartily loves Sir Roger, and knows that he
is very much in the old knight's esteem, so that he
lives in the family rather as a relation than a de-
pendent.

This

themselves in his way; and it is on both sides, as it
were, understood as a visit, when the servants appear
without calling. This proceeds from the humane and
equal temper of the man of the house, who also per-
fectly well knows how to enjoy a great estate with
such economy as ever to be much beforehand.
makes his own mind untroubled, and consequently
unapt to vent peevish expressions, or give passionate
or inconsistent orders to those about him. Thus re-
spect and love go together, and a certain cheerfulness
in performance of their duty is the particular dis-
tinction of the lower part of this family

A man of honour and generosity considers it would
be miserable to himself to have no will but that of
another, though it were of the best person breathing,
and for that reason goes on as fast as he is able to put
his servants into independent livelihoods. The greatest
part of Sir Roger's estate is tenanted by persons who
have served himself or his ancestors. It was to me
extremely pleasant to observe the visitants from seve-
ral parts to welcome his arrival into the country; and
all the difference that I could take notice of between
the late servants who came to see him, and those who
staid in the family, was that these latter were looked
upon as finer gentlemen and better courtiers.
This manumission, and placing them in a way of
livelihood, I look upon as only what is due to a good
servant; which encouragement will make his successor
be as diligent, as humble, and as ready as he was.
There is something wonderful in the narrowness of
those minds which can be pleased, and be barren of
bounty to those who please them.

As I was yesterday morning walking with Sir Roger before his house, a country fellow brought him a huge fish, which, he told him, Mr William Wimbie had caught that very morning; and that he presented it, with his service to him, and intended to come and dine with him. At the same time, he delivered a letter, which my friend read to me as soon as the messenger left him—

'SIR ROGER-I desire you to accept of a jack, which is the best I have caught this season. I intend to come and stay with you a week, and see how the

I have observed in several of my papers, that my friend Sir Roger, amidst all his good qualities, is something of a humorist; and that his virtues, as well as imperfections, are, as it were, tinged by a certain extravagance, which makes them particularly his, and distinguishes them from those of other men. This cast of mind, as it is generally very innocent in itself, so it renders his conversation highly agreeable, and more delightful than the same degree of sense and perch bite in the Black River. I observed with some virtue would appear in their common and ordinary concern, the last time I saw you upon the bowlingcolours. As I was walking with him last night, he green, that your whip wanted a lash to it; I will bring asked me how I liked the good man whom I have half a dozen with me that I twisted last week, which just now mentioned; and, without staying for my an- I hope will serve you all the time you are in the country. I have not been out of the saddle for six swer, told me that he was afraid of being insulted with Latin and Greek at his own table; for which reason days last past, having been at Eton with Sir John's he desired a particular friend of his at the university eldest son. He takes to his learning hugely.—I am, to find him out a clergyman rather of plain sense than Sir, your humble servant, WILLIAM WIMBLE.' much learning, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a This extraordinary letter, and message that accomsociable temper, and, if possible, a man that under-panied it, made me very curious to know the character stood something of backgammon. My friend, says and quality of the gentleman who sent them, which Sir Roger, found me out this gentleman, who, besides I found to be as follows:-Will Wimble is younger the endowments required of him, is, they tell me, a brother to a baronet, and descended of the ancient lagood scholar, though he does not show it: I have given mily of the Wimbles. He is now between forty and him the parsonage of the parish; and, because I know fifty, but being bred to no business, and born to no his value, have settled upon him a good annuity for estate, he generally lives with his elder brother as life. If he outlives me, he shall find that he was superintendant of his game. He hunts a pack of dogs higher in my esteem than perhaps he thinks he is. better than any man in the country, and is very He has now been with me thirty years; and though famous for finding out a hare. He is extremely well he does not know I have taken notice of it, has never versed in all the little handicrafts of an idle man: he in all that time asked any thing of me for himself, makes a May-fly to a miracle, and furnishes the whole though he is every day soliciting me for something in county with angle-rods. As he is a good-natured behalf of one or other of my tenants, his parishioners. officious fellow, and very much esteemed upon account There has not been a law-suit in the parish since he of his family, he is a welcome guest at every house, has lived among them; if any dispute arises, they ap- and keeps up a good correspondence among all the ply themselves to him for the decision; if they do not gentlemen about him. He carries a tulip-root in his acquiesce in his judgment, which I think never hap- pocket from one to another, or exchanges a puppy pened above once or twice at most, they appeal to me. between a couple of friends that live perhaps in the At his first settling with me I made him a present of all opposite sides of the county. Will is a particular the good sermons which have been printed in English, favourite of all the young heirs, whom he frequently and only begged of him that every Sunday he would obliges with a net that he has weaved, or a settingpronounce one of them in the pulpit. Accordingly, dog that he has made himself. He now and then he has digested them into such a series that they fol- presents a pair of garters of his own knitting to their low one another naturally, and make a continued sys- mothers or sisters, and raises a great deal of mirth tem of practical divinity. among them by inquiring, as often as he meets them, how they wear? These gentleman-like manufactures and obliging little humours make Will the darling of the country.

As Sir Roger was going on in his story, the gentle. man we were talking of came up to us; and upon the knight's asking him who preached to-morrow, for it was Saturday night, told us, the Bishop of St Asaph in the Sir Roger was proceeding in the character of him, morning, and Dr South in the afternoon. He then when we saw him make up to us with two or three showed us his list of preachers for the whole year, where hazel-twigs in his hand that he had cut in Sir Roger's I saw with a great deal of pleasure Archbishop Til woods, as he came through them, in his way to the lotson, Bishop Saunderson, Dr Barrow, Dr Calamy, house. I was very much pleased to observe on one with several living authors who have published dis-side the hearty and sincere welcome with which Sir courses of practical divinity. I no sooner saw this Roger received him, and on the other, the secret joy venerable man in the pulpit, but I very much ap- which his guest discovered at the sight of the good proved of my friend's insisting upon the qualifications old knight. After the first salutes were over, Will of a good aspect and a clear voice; for I was so desired Sir Roger to lend him one of his servants to charmed with the gracefulness of his figure and deli. carry a set of shuttlecocks he had with him in a little very, as well as with the discourses he pronounced, box to a lady that lived about a mile off, to whom it that I think I never passed any time more to my satis- seems he had promised such a present for above this faction. A sermon repeated after this manner is like half year. Sir Roger's back was no sooner turned, the composition of a poet in the mouth of a graceful but honest Will began to tell me of a large cockactor. pheasant that he had sprung in one of the neighbouring woods, with two or three other adventures of the same nature. Odd and uncommon characters are the game that I look for, and most delight in; for which reason I was as much pleased with the novelty of the person that talked to me, as he could be for his life with the springing of the pheasant, and therefore listened to him with more than ordinary attention.

The reception, manner of attendance, undisturbed freedom and quiet which I meet with here in the country, has confirmed me in the opinion I always had, that the general corruption of manners in servants is owing to the conduct of masters. The aspect of every one in the family carries so much satisfaction, that it appears he knows the happy lot which has befallen him in being a member of it. There is one particular which I have seldom seen but at Sir Roger's: it is usual in all other places that servants fly from the parts of the house through which their master is passing; on the contrary, here they industriously place

In the midst of this discourse the bell rung to dinner, where the gentleman I have been speaking of had the pleasure of seeing the huge jack he had caught, served up for the first dish in a most sumptuous manner. Upon our sitting down to it, he gave us a long

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