minate in the sublimest triumphs of genius. Modest amused himself with hunting, and gave the rest of his and patient, he was indebted in a great measure to hours of relaxation to the society of his friends. Livmere industry for his ultimate success. While sup-ing in the utmost retirement, he himself was perhaps porting himself as well as he could by teaching, he the only musical man in Europe who was ignorant of studied the theory of his art, in its more complicated the celebrity of Joseph Haydn. The first homage he and abstract forms, from the works of Matheson, received consisted of a commission from a Parisian Heinichen, and others: for the practice he resorted to amateur to compose a piece of vocal music, accomthe works of Emanuel Bach, a musician to whom he panied with some select passages of Lulli and Rameau ever afterwards acknowledged the greatest obligations. to serve as models. He returned for answer, with sly The first public employment he acquired was that simplicity, that he was Haydn, and not Lulli or Raof organist to the friars of the Misericordia, but the meau; and that if music after the manner of those salary was so small, that he was obliged to perform in great composers was wanted, it should be asked from other places to obtain mere necessaries. At the age them or their pupils; but that, as to himself, he unof eighteen he composed for a German baron a quar- fortunately could write music only after the manner tetto which succeeded, and from that time he was the of Haydn. author of a number of trios and sonatas, which were often published by the scholars to whom he gave them, without consulting him, or giving him a share in the profit. His reputation by degrees made its way, and in 1760, at the age of twenty-eight, he was just raised above indigence, by being appointed maestro di capella in second to Prince Esterhazy. He now fulfilled an engagement which he had made in his days of penury, to marry the daughter of the musician who had befriended him. His music, on account of its originality and difficulty, for a time was not generally relished in Germany, and underwent criticism. Some went so far as even to write pamphlets against his works, complaining of them as wild, flighty, and trifling, and as tending to introduce new musical | doctrines, which till then had been totally unknown in that country. The only notice that Haydn deigned to take of the scurrility and abuse which was thus heaped upon him, was to publish lessons written in imitation of the several styles of his adversaries. In these their peculiarities were so closely copied, and their extraneous passages so inimitably burlesqued, that they all felt keenly the poignancy of his musical wit, and were silent. Át the death of Werner, his superior in place, Haydn succeeded to the office of chief director of music to Prince Esterhazy, and he spent thirty years in the obscure Hungarian village belonging to that family, passing only two or three months at Vienna when the prince came to court. The national music of the Germans is rough, bold, and grand; and although they do not display the softness of the Italians, it is generally acknowledged that in instrumental music, and particularly in that for wind instruments, they have excelled all other nations. The introduction of a more refined manner was reserved for Haydn, who, in originality, pathos, and beautiful air, surpassed all rivalry. Besides numerous pieces for instruments, he composed many operas for the Esterhazy theatre, and which were also performed in the theatres of Vienna and Berlin. He also excelled in church music, being only approached in this department by his brother Michael. An oratorio which he composed in 1775, under the title of Il Ritorno di Tobia, for the benefit of the widows of musicians, is as favourite a piece in Germany as Handel's Messiah is in England. His instrumental Passione, in parts, is among the most exquisite of his serious productions. It consists entirely of slow movements on the subject of the last seven sentences of the Saviour, as recorded by the evangelists. These strains are so truly impassioned, and full of heart-felt grief and dignified sorrow, that, although the movements are all slow, the subjects, the keys, and effects, are so new and so different, that a real lover of music will feel no lassitude, nor wish for lighter strains to stimulate attention. In Haydn's allegros, there is a general cheerfulness and character of good humour, which exhilarates every hearer. His adagios, again, are often so sublime in ideas and in harmony, that, though played by inarticulate instruments, they have an irresistible effect upon the softer feelings. His power of expression was, indeed, universal, and alike exemplified in symphonies, sonatas, concertos, quartets, operas, oratorios, and instrumental pieces of every class. Burney, in introducing an account of his music, speaks of him as "the admirable and matchless Haydn, from whose productions I have received more pleasure late in my life, when tired of most other music, than I ever received in the most ignorant and rapturous period of my youth, when every thing was new, and the disposition to be pleased undiminished by critics or satiety." As a performer, Haydn is said to have been extremely neat, elegant, and impressive. Although the fame of Haydn excited no small jealousy among his contemporaries, there were two, and these the greatest of them all, namely, Gluck and Mozart, who, with the generosity seldom found wanting in successful talent, warmly declared the friendly and admiring feelings with which they regarded him. In return he did justice to their merits, and at the ' death of the latter, was extremely affected, declaring the loss irreparable. In 1790, Mr Salomon, who had undertaken to give concerts in London, made proposals to Haydn to assist in conducting these concerts, and to compose pieces for them, offering him L.50 for each concert. Haydn accepted the offer, and arrived in England at the age of fifty-nine. He remained in London about twelve months, during which time he composed some of the finest of his works, particularly the magnificent orchestral compositions so well known as the "Twelve Symphonies for Salomon's Concerts,” and the beautiful English canzonets, the poetry of which was written by Mrs Hunter. Haydn used to relate several whimsical anecdotes of his stay in London. A captain of the navy came to him one morning, and asked him to compose a march for some troops he had on board, offering him thirty guineas for his trouble, but requiring it to be done immediately, as the vessel was to sail next day for Calcutta. As soon as the captain was gone, Haydn sat down to the piano-forte, and the march was ready in a few minutes. Feeling some scruples at gaining his money so very easily, Haydn wrote two other marches, intending first to give the captain his choice, and then to make him a present of all the three, as a return for his liberality. Next morning the captain returned, and asked for his march. Here it is," said the composer. The captain asked to hear it on the piano-forte; and having done so, laid down the thirty guineas, pocketed the march, and walked away. Haydn tried to stop him, but in vain-the march was very good. "But I have written two others," cried Haydn, "which are better; hear them, and take your choice." "I like the first very well, and that is enough," answered the captain, pursuing his way down stairs. Haydn followed, crying out, "But I make you a present of them." "I won't have them!" roared the seaman, with a nautical asseveration, and bolted out at the street door. Haydn, determined not to be outdone, hastened to the Exchange, and, discovering the name of the ship and her commander, sent the marches on board with a pelite note, which the captain, surmising its contents, sent back unopened. Haydn tore the marches into a thousand pieces, and never forgot this liberal English humorist as long as he lived. While he resided in London, Haydn enjoyed two high gratifications; that of hearing the music of Handel, with which, like most of his countrymen at that time, he was very slightly acquainted, and that of being present at the concerts of ancient music, which were then splendidly patronised, and carried on with great talent. He witnessed the annual celebration in St Paul's cathedral, which is attended by the children belonging to the charity schools in the metropolis; and was affected even to tears by the psalms sung in unison by four thousand infantine voices. One of these tunes he jotted down in his memorandum-book; and he used afterwards to say, that this simple and natural air gave him the greatest pleasure he had ever received from music. Haydn returned to England in 1794, having been engaged by Gallini, the manager of the Opera House, to compose an opera for that theatre, on the subject of Orpheus and Eurydice. But there was some difficulty about opening the theatre, and Haydn left England without having finished his opera. During this visit, he had the honour of the diploma of a doctor of music conferred on him by the university of Oxford. called the Seasons, the words of which are taken from Thomson. This work was also performed for the first time in the Schwartzenberg palace, and received with the warmest applause. It did not, however, make so rapid or strong an impression as that which was made by the Creation. Its subject is not so sublime, nor are its beauties so obvious and striking. This work terminated Haydn's musical career. By the labours of his long life, he had acquired a moderate competency; and after his last return from England, he purchased a smaħ house and garden in one of the suburbs of Vienna, where he resided for the remaining years of his life. Soon after he had taken possession of his little home, he received a communication from the National Institute of France, informing him that he had been nominated an associate of that body; an honour by which he was deeply affected. He now began to sink rapidly under the pressure of age and infirmities. He seldom quitted his house and garden; and his enfeebled mind began to be haunted with the double fear of poverty and disease. The visits of his friends would rouse him, and, in conversing with them, he occasionally showed his former cheerfulness and vivacity. When he was told that the French Institute, in 1805, supposing him to be dead, had performed a requiem for him, he said pleasantly, these kind gentlemen had given me notice of my death, I would have gone myself to beat the time for them." But these gleams were brief and transient, and he sank into his usual state of torpor and depression. If While he was in this state, his friends in Vienna resolved to have a performance of the Creation. It took place in the palace of Prince Lobkowitz, with an orchestra of one hundred and sixty performers, and before an audience of more than fifteen hundred of the nobility and gentry of the Austrian capital. Haydn, feeble as he was, expressed his desire to appear once more in the presence of that public for whom he had laboured so long, and from whom he had received so many marks of favour and esteem. He was carried into the room in an easy chair, attended by the Princess Esterhazy, and other ladies, who went to the door to meet him, and was placed in the middle of the seats occupied by the most illustrious personages in Vienna, amid the flourishes of the orchestra, and the plaudits of the audience. The performance began; and the feelings of the assembly, inspired by the sublime music, were raised to enthusiasm by the aspect of the venerable composer, who now appeared among them to take farewell of them for ever. An eminent physician, who sat near him, having remarked that his legs were not sufficiently protected from the cold, the finest and most costly shawls were instantly pulled from the shoulders of their fair wearers who surrounded him, and employed in making him warm and comfortable. The old man shed tears at this mark of affection. At the end of the first act, feeling himself exhausted with fatigue and emotion, he requested to be taken home. Before reaching the door, he desired the persons who were bearing him in his chair to stop; and having first taken farewell of the audience by bowing his head, he turned to the orchestra, and, with his eyes raised to heaven, and full of tears, uttered a parting blessing on the old companions of his labours. Haydn did not long survive this touching scene. The tranquillity of his last days was disturbed by the alarms of war. In the struggle between Austria and France in 1809, the Emperor Napoleon carried his army to the very gates of Vienna. During this dreadful campaign Haydn was greatly agitated. He was constantly inquiring for news, and used to sit at his piano-forte, singing with his feeble and trembling voice, "God preserve the Emperor!" On the night of the 10th of May, the French reached Schoenbrunn; and next morning, from a position within a few yards of Haydn's house, they fired fifteen hundred cannonshot and shells upon the city, which the old man's imagination represented to him as given up to fire and sword. Four bombs fell close to his dwelling, and their explosion filled his little household with terror. He roused himself, and, getting up from his chair, rebuked his servants with dignity for their want of firmness. But the effort was too much for him; he was seized with a convulsive shivering, and carried to bed. His strength continued to diminish; yet, on the 26th of May, he caused himself to be placed at his pianoforte, where he again sang the national hymn, three times over, with all his remaining energy. It was the song of the swan. While he still sat at the pianoforte, he fell into a state of stupor, and at last expired on the morning of the 31st of May, aged seventy-eight years and two months. He was privately interred in the suburb of Gumpendorff, in which he resided, Vienna being in the possession of the French, and the Requiem of Mozart was performed for him in the Scotch church of the city. His heir was a blacksmith or farrier, to whom he left 38,000 florins, deducting 12,000, which he bequeathed to his two faithful ser After his return from England, he undertook his great work, the Creation. While in London, he had been inspired with the most profound admiration for the music of Handel, and especially the Messiah; and it is to this feeling that the world is certainly indebted for the Creation. He began this work in 1795, when he was sixty-three years of age, and finished it in the beginning of 1798, having been constantly employed upon it for more than two years. When urged by his friends to bring it to a conclusion, he used to say calmly, "I spend a long time upon it, because I intend it to last a long time." In the Lent of the above year, it was performed for the first time, in the Schwartzenberg palace, at the expense of the Dilettanti Society of Vienna, before the flower of the literary and musical society of that city; the composer himself conducting the orchestra. It was received with an enthusiasm which soon spread throughout all Europe. It was Such was the life of this great, and, it may be added, while the First Consul of France was on his way to good man. He was a stranger to every evil and mawitness its first performance in Paris, that the me-lignant passion, and, indeed, was not much under the influence of passion of any sort. But his disposition was cheerful and gentle, and his heart was brimful of kindly affections. He was friendly and benevolent, open and candid in the expression of his sentiments, always ready to acknowledge and aid the claims of talent in his own art, and, in all his actions, distinguished by the most spotless integrity. Such is the In the service of Prince Esterhazy, Haydn might be considered as in circumstances highly favourable to the full developement of his powers, being at the head of a great orchestra, and wholly free from the troubles and cares of the world. During that long period, his life was regular, and constantly employed.morable attempt was made to destroy him by means He rose early in the morning, dressed himself very of an "infernal machine." It was performed about neatly, and placed himself at a little table by the side the same time in London; and from that period to of his piano-forte, where he remained with the inter- the present, it has formed a part of every great perruption only of his meals. In the evening he attended formance of sacred music. rehearsals, or the opera, which was performed four Two years after the appearance of the Creation, times a-week in the prince's palace. Occasionally he | Haydn produced another work, of a similar form, vants. account of him given by all those who knew him best; and they add, as the most remarkable feature of his character, that strong and deeply rooted sense of religion, which is the only solid foundation of moral excellence. Haydn's piety was not a mere feeling, capable as is often the case with worldly men, of being excited for the moment by circumstances, and dying away when the external influence is removed: it was an active principle, which guided the whole tenor of his life and conduct. His sacred music was exalted by the existence, in his mind, of those devout senti- | ments which it is the object of sacred music to express." SINGULAR MODE OF TREATMENT FOR CHOLERA. IT will probably be remembered by many of our readers, that among the various modes of treatment which were suggested for the cure of cholera, while that disease raged in Great Britain in 1832, one was remarkable for its singularity, and the success which under certain circumstances attended it, namely, the injection of saline solutions into the veins. With the view of making this mode of practice as widely known as possible, so as to be still more fully tested and improved upon, we offer the following account of it, given by Dr Mackintosh in the new edition of his work on the Practice of Medicine. It is necessary to premise that the doctor acted as physician to the Drummond Street Hospital, at Edinburgh, where the treatment was for some time followed along with the usual means for the recovery of patients. "That there is a deficiency of serum [thin watery fluid] in the blood in cholera patients, was soon suspected; and the point having been well established by chemical analysis, the attention of practitioners was directed to discover the cause of the deficiency, and means were employed to restore the loss. will prevent minute portions of flaky threads from in- veins was spoken of; but it is remarkable how few instances of this took place, and those which did occur were generally slight, and never appeared to be the cause of death. The usual and very gratifying effects of this remedy have been already detailed at sufficient length, to show the complete alteration produced on the character of the disease. But I have now to mention that rigors, severe rigors, almost invariably followed the saline injection. They generally commenced a few minutes after the completion of the operation, sometimes during its performance. If there were nothing more to offer, the occurrence of this phenomenon affords proof, the most decisive, of a pathological change in the system, as no one has ever seen a patient labouring un der cholera shiver, or present any thing like a decided rigor. The operation should be performed by two persons; one to open the vein, introduce the tube, and keep it in position; the other to take charge of the fluid to be injected, and the apparatus. It is necessary to have an assistant at hand to do any thing that may be required, so that the attention of the operators may be entirely devoted to the parts they have to act. The position of the operators is a matter of some consequence, as the operation will occupy fully half an hour; the person whose duty it is to open the vein should be comfortably seated on the side of the bed Early in our operations, several patients, who had corresponding to the arm on which he is to operate; been twice or thrice injected, asked me what had betable, with the vessel placed between his legs. His veins. This was a natural question, and had intensely the other should be seated across a form, or narrow come of all the liquid they had received into their first duty is to pump the fluid through the tubes for occupied my thoughts; but however mysterious the a few minutes, in order to get rid of any air that may subject appeared to us at the time, it was at last unbe attached to any part of the syringe, or sides of the ravelled by watching the operations of nature; for in tubes-the extremity of the tube being kept under the course of twenty or thirty minutes after the injecthe surface of the liquid. When the vein has been tion, one or two very copious discharges of a watery opened, and the nosle introduced, the operator is to fluid took place from the stomach, without nausea, keep it in its place with the finger and thumb of the and sometimes there was a large watery stool. Soon left hand, and take hold of the extremity of the tube after this, unfavourable symptoms again frequently with the right; he is to place his index-finger to stop took place; all the appearances of cholera returned, the mouth of the tube, it being still under the surface, the patients occasionally sank into a collapsed condiwhile the other operator gently pushes the piston tion, and unless the operation was repeated, death foldown-this is to satisfy him that it is full; he then lowed. One woman, who recovered, was injected six directs the point towards the nosle, which, if not filled times; between the first and second operation, three with blood, ought to be filled with the injection before hours intervened; between the second and third, six the tube is finally connected with it. All this, to in-hours; between the third and fourth, four hours; besure success, must be quickly and dexterously done. tween the fourth and fifth, four days; and between Upon a signal given by the first operator, the other is the fifth and sixth operation, twelve days. In all, fifty to commence pumping, being careful to hold the pounds and a half were thrown into the system. syringe perpendicularly, and never take his eye from From memory, I may state that about one-half of the vessel, or direct his attention to any other matter. those who recovered after this operation were bled, or The whole of the fluid, consisting of ten pounds, may had leeches applied. One, for instance, was bled three times, and had sixty leeches applied; and on looking back at the cases, I believe that several were lost from want of bleeding, as febrile symptoms almost always followed the injection, and many of those who died were destroyed by inflammatory action in different organs. time we may reasonably suppose the blood will have The bold idea of restoring the loss at once, by in-be with safety introduced in thirty minutes; in which jecting a large quantity of saline solution into the venous system, occurred to the original mind of the late Dr Latta of Leith, who, by his unwearied and unremitting exertions on this occasion, contracted bad health, and died soon afterwards of consumption. He was ably and zealously supported in his investigations by Dr Lewins, who encouraged and assisted him, when others threw every obstacle in the way of his experiments, and too often gave erroneous reports of his practice. state. It is remarkable how speedily the injection affects the pulse, making it perceptible after it had ceased to When first informed of what Dr Latta had done, be felt at the wrist. By the time four ounces were inmy mind became terrified at the contemplation of all troduced, the pulse could generally be distinctly counted; the evil consequences which might result from such and when about three pounds were introduced, it beextraordinary means. The danger of air finding its came a tolerably good one, although it might be still way into the vascular system, the rupture of blood- feeble, and perhaps rapid. At last, when the pulse vessels, dropsy, and the fatal effects of inflammation of became of natural strength, the injection was susveins, made me, as I have no doubt it did others, re-pended for a little. The quantity injected depended gard the cure as worse than the disease. I was principally upon the state of the pulse, and we were anxiously urged to try the practice; but I resisted un- always glad when the object was effected with the til Drs Latta and Lewins afforded me an opportunity smallest quantity of fluid. At the same time, as we of examining the body of a woman who had been in- sometimes found the pulse flag again, requiring an imjected. After a very minute and careful examination, mediate repetition of the injection, we became careful I could discern no rupture of blood-vessels-no effu- not to discontinue the operation too soon. sion of liquid into the cavities or the cellular tissue. In fact, I could see no appearance that was not usually seen in other victims of cholera, when the ordinary treatment had been pursued. I was too old to be led away by any very extraordinary expectations of the results of this practice; and in order that we might err on the safe side, it was determined, after deliberate consultation with my kind friend and able colleague Mr Meikle, that no one should be operated upon in this manner till every other means had been tried in vain, till the collapse was extreme, and the patient appeared to be in the very jaws of death. While this will be admitted to be the prudent course we were bound to pursue, it will be allowed it was not calculated to give the practice the best chance of success. On the contrary, in looking over the cases, my only surprise now is, that one of the individuals recovered by any means that human ingenuity could suggest. The substances injected were in the following proportions: Muriate of soda, half an ounce; bi-carbonate of soda, four scruples; water, ten pounds. We commenced this treatment on the 12th May 1832; the solution was made in the proportions above stated till 21st August, after which the quantity of each of the salts was doubled. The temperature was from 106 to 120 degrees. The solution was carefully strained twice through leather. The salts must not be carelessly thrown into very hot water, and subsequently cooled, as we found that water at a high temperature gradually decomposed the salts, and the solution remained turbid. The good effects of the injection were rapid in proportion to the heat of the solution, but patients could not bear a higher temperature than that above mentioned. The precautions necessary in making and using the injection are of vital importance. If solid saline matter be thrown into the circulation, death in all probability must inevitably ensue. If the solution be strained through linen, or a towel, no precaution This article is compiled from Aiken's General Biographical Dictionary, Burney's History of Music, and Mr Hogarth's late excellent publication, Musical Htory, Biography, and Criticism," from which the whole of the latter moiety has been extracted. The effect on the cramps was quite remarkable; they generally ceased as soon as the pulse became good, and seldom troubled the patient again. Many cases that appeared to us hopeless, from age, and the ravages of previous disease, were injected solely with a view to mitigate the sufferings of the patients, produced by cramps. The effect on the animal heat is also almost instantaneous; the body, which could not previously be heated, now becomes warm, and instead of a cold damp exudation on the surface, there is a gentle and genial moisture. The respiration, however weak previously, soon became stronger. It sometimes happened, when about four pounds of the injection were introduced, that the respiration became rather laborious, which generally gave way after more fluid was thrown into the system. The voice, which had been whispering, now became quite natural. In proportion as the pulse and the temperature were restored, so did the countenance improve. The eye, from being sunk, became prominent; the shrinking of the features, and the dark colour of the face and of the body, generally disappeared. The expression, in fact, became animated, and the mind lively. The restlessness and uneasy feelings vanished. The despondency, vertigo, tinnitus aurium, præcordial oppression, gave way to pleasurable feelings; and I have not unfrequently seen patients sit up in bed immediately after the operation, in perfect possession of themselves, and speak with joy on the sudden transition from agony and death to happiness and life. Thirst, however urgent it might have been previous to the operation, soon ceased after its commencement. The secretion of urine, in general, soon returned after the injection; but in this we were more frequently disappointed than in any of the other favourable symptoms. The period of death was undoubtedly postponed, sometimes for hours, more frequently for days, and sometimes even for weeks, and in some cases a perfect recovery took place. In noticing the bad effects which might naturally be expected from this operation, inflammation of the In the Drummond Street Hospital, there were one hundred and fifty-six patients injected, twenty-five of whom recovered. An important question has often been put to me in reference to these cases-' Did you diminish the proportion of deaths by this practice?' It may be necessary to remind my readers of the undeniable fact, that of the really collapsed or blue cases, in which the pulse was either so weak as scarcely to be felt, or was imperceptible at the wrist, one case only out of twelve recovered; I think this calculation too high, and that the number of recoveries is not more than one in twenty. The number of recoveries by injection has been already stated-it gives the proportion of recoveries to deaths as I in 6 6-25ths. Not one of the patients operated on had a chance of recovery by any other means. Should I ever have charge of cholera patients again, I shall, profiting by the experience I now possess, use the saline solution at an earlier period of the stage of collapse, nay, at its commencement, in order to lessen the thickness of the blood before organic mischief is done.” NAVIGATION BY TREADMILLS.-You may perhaps laugh at the idea, and so may some of your readers; but on further consideration I doubt not my proposition will not be deemed quite so preposterous as at first sight it may appear-it is, that transports should be fitted with paddles and a treadmill. A treadmill ! I think I hear you exclaim. Yes, a treadmill for the use of the troops. "Cyril Thornton" alludes to a treadmill in a long-continued calm between the tropics as being desirable on account of the diversity in the exercise it would afford; but he makes no allusion to paddles, without which the treadmill would be up-hill work without any prospect of reaching the summit. It might indeed be had recourse to for recreation or punishment, but these are secondary considerations. In a protracted calm, with well-adapted paddles, and the vis inertia of a large body of men desirous of escaping from so unpleasant a predicament, their voluntary exertions would achieve advantages of infinitely greater consequence. Besides the utility of paddles in calms, they might be beneficially employed in passing straits, with adverse currents and light winds. More might be said on the utility of the proposed measure, but every person of experience in the service must recollect situations, where paddles sufficiently worked for a limited period would have materially curtailed the duration of the voyage.-Letter in the United Service Journal. A SAYING OF PASCAL.-Pascal, the eminent French mathematician and religionist, has a thought which it would not be amiss to examine by those who are living for other aims than those which ought to be the real end of existence: "All our endeavours after greatness proceed from nothing but a desire of being surrounded by a multitude of persons and affairs that may hinder us from looking into ourselves, which is a view we cannot bear." Probably few are conscious that this is the reason why they so busily waste their lives in unworthy pursuits, though none can be insensible of having the effect produced. AN IRISH CONVENT. DURING a temporary sojourn in the south of Ireland, curiosity, the traveller's usual companion, induced us to visit the Ursuline convent, in Waterford, not so much with a wish to see the interior, as to observe the happiness which the fair inmates are said to enjoy in their voluntary seclusion, and to ascertain the truth of their being perfectly contented and resigned to their self-imposed restriction from the world. We wished also to see how time bore out the fulfilment of vows of early devotion-vows often prematurely made, hastily taken, and ever after regretted. One of our party was a young lady who had been educated in the convent, as far as education could be given to one born deaf and dumb; consequently, the languages and music were lost to her. The only accomplishment which compensated for these was drawing, an art in which she excelled. With an intelligent countenance, an animated expression, and, by the help of the alphabet on her fingers, she explained that the Lady Abbess was the sister of a celebrated Irish barrister, eminent for his eloquence. We were shown into a plainly furnished reception room by one of the Sisters of Charity-a class of persons who do much good in visiting the sick and poor. She announced us, and immediately afterwards the Lady Abbess entered. I shall never forget how much I was struck with the appearance of this lady. I have seen all classes, grades, and costumes, but never before saw more elegance, ease, and beauty, in a more unbecoming garb. Her long robe was of coarse black stuff, girded round the waist by a leathern belt, from which depended the rosary. A white linen bandage encircled her fair forehead, over which hung a long black veil-no trace of hair was visible, and no vestige of outward adornment; still, the gentle yet dignified bearing of the lovely nun gave to this solemn and simple garb "a grace beyond the reach of art," a charm that was peculiarly interesting. Her features were pale and placid; she appeared about five-and-thirty, and had been immured there seventeen years, without a hope or wish, as she asserted, if we could believe her, for emancipation, as, when once the veil is taken, the doors are closed upon the fair for ever, for they are buried within the convent walls. As English Protestants, we were shown every courtesy, and there seemed a wish to remove the gloomy idea we had formed of cloistered cells, dreary dormitories, and melancholy incarceration. I looked on the Lady Abbess with pity and regret as she moved with the grace of a gentlewoman before us, through the chapel, school, drawing and music rooms-the first decorated with foreign relics, paintings, and sculpture on scriptural subjects, the second covered with engravings and lithographs of the first masters, and the latter furnished with two piano-fortes, a harp, and a guitar. She then led us past a row of shrines of the sisterhood, all beautifully decorated with fresh and fair flowers of their own cultivation. nuns will seldom admit so much) common causes of TO A SLEEPING CHILD. Art thou a thing of mortal birth, A human shape I feel thou art, plucked the tender infant, the heir of Lochbuy, from the hands of the nurse, and bounding to the rocks, in a moment stood on an almost inaccessible cliff projecting over the water. The screams of the agonised mother and chief at the awful jeopardy in which their only child was placed, may be easily conceived. Maclean implored the man to give him back his son, and expressed his deep contrition for the degradation he had in a moment of excitement inflicted on his clansınan, The other replied, that the only conditions on which he would consent to the restitution were, that Maclean himself should bare his back to the cord, and be publicly scourged as he had been! In despair the chief consented, saying he would submit to any thing if his child were but restored. To the grief and astonishment of the clan, Maclean bore this insult, and when it was completed begged that the clansman might return from his perilous situation with the young chief. The man regarded him with a smile of demoniac revenge, and lifting high the child in the air, plunged with him into the abyss below. The sea closed over them, and neither, it is said, ever emerged from the tempestuous whirlpools and basaltic caverns that yawned around them, and still threaten the inexperienced navigator on the shores of Mull.-Inverness Courier. SUPINENESS OF JAMAICA MEN.-On a late excursion with Mr Jerdan to the summit of one of the mountains of Liguanea, called Peter's Rock, in some places where detached portions of the side of the mountain had slipped away, we were surprised at the amazing quantity of copper ore that was visible, not in veins, but. in petrous masses about three or four pounds weight. I am astonished, amongst all the mining companies that have been established for other countries, that speculating people at home have never made a trial of the lead and copper mines here. The unsuccessful experiment that was made by ignorant people, and on too small a scale to be productive of any good, is no argument against a further trial. It must not be supposed, because the people of Jamaica take no advantage of the natural resources of the country, that they are not worth attending to. The people of Jamaica make no novel experiments: they find the sugar planted, and where it is they continue to cultivate it: they find the hoe the ancient implement of the husbandman, and they have no desire to change it for the plough. They want to build a house they send to England for the bricks, rather than cut stone from the quarries which every where abound. They object to the introduction of steamengines for the sugar-mills, that the scarcity of firewood is too great; and yet, if the first geologist of Europe were to visit Jamaica, and state that the indication of coal was evident in the formations of the neighbouring mountains (and that there are such indications I have little doubt), no effort would be made to obtain it. In fact, no adequate effort has been ' made to develope the one-twentieth part of the available resources of this naturally rich and fertile country.-Madden's Twelve Months in the West Indies. RHEUMATISM. Persons who are subject to local attacks of rheumatism, should guard themselves against the transitions of atmosphere which are so common in this climate. This may be done by regulating their clothing so as to prevent sudden exposure to cold air.. It is equally necessary to protect the head, especially if the person be much engaged where air has a free current, as it is to such circumstances that we can often trace a rheumatic attack. The constant and unremitting wear of flannel next the skin, under all weathers and all seasons, will do more in preventing. these affections than any other precautions. The uninterrupted flow of the sensible and insensible perspirations, is one of the most important means of health that we are acquainted with; its obstruction may consequently be regarded as one of the principal causes of our acute and chronic maladies; it therefore be hoves all those who are subject to colds, to be very careful to prevent such an occurrence.-Oracle of Health. On the crucifix of one was simply the small blue flower forget me not." The lady of this shrine was kneeling beside the organ as we passed through the chapel, meditating so deeply in prayer as not to observe our party. Over every door was printed a text from scripture, to impress upon the minds of all educated in the convent the advantage of remembering that "God sees us," "God is with us," and that "Ged is good unto us." According to some of Mrs Radcliffe's romantic descriptions, I was disappointed to find the dormitory a long comfortable room, like that of a ladies' seminary, with little beds arranged on each side, covered with dark counterpanes: the Lady Abbess has a room to herself. She made some cheerful remarks on the comforts they possessed, notwithstanding my scepticism and credulity, on the appearance of so much "prison discipline.' We had one proof that the fair sisterhood do not always fast as well as pray, for a most savoury vapour of goodly viauds escaped from the lower regions of the establishinent; but, probably, it was the day of confessional, and the ladies expected their pastors to dinner. After perambulating a well-selected library and the Abridged from Wilson's Poetical Works, 2 vols. 8vo. for the following anecdote:-Mr Edward Cook, after museum, which is enriched by the liberality of visitors with some natural or foreign curiosity, in zoology, geology, and conchology, we arrived at the hall door, and, turning round with a sweet yet sad expression, our interesting guide said, "Now, I will take you to see our last home." I felt a chill creep over me when she led us to an acre of ground, surrounded with yew, cypress, and willow trees, drooping over several black crosses of wood, simply denoting the last resting-place of some fair sisters. The calmness and resignation with which she looked and reasoned upon this melancholy spot, afforded a lesson of meditation and reflec tion to us all. The principal penance the nuns have to perform is to educate three hundred poor children daily. Now, delightful as it may be "to rear the tender thought" of one or two, yet, when it amounts to teaching three hundred "young ideas how to shoot" daily, I think the task must be any thing but "delightful," and that the ladies would require an additional bandage round the head to bear the monotonous murmur and repetition of tasks-the drone, the hum, the noise, and the perpetual motion of so many children. Yet are they doing much good in educating and clothing the poor. Early disappointment in the affections, deaths, deprivations, and family desertions, are (though the Oh! sinless babe! by God are given, WILD REVENGE.-The Celtic legends, like the Celtic language, though deficient in terms of art and refinement, are peculiarly rich in the expression of the passions. Joy, grief, fear, love, hatred, and revenge, glow through many an impassioned strain which still lingers by its original wild locality. On the shores of Mull a crag is pointed out, overhanging the sea, concerning which there is the following tradition, which we have often thought would form no bad subject for the painter, or even the poet :-Some centuries since, the chief of the district, Maclean of Lochbuy, had a grand hunting excursion. To grace the festivity, his lady attended, with her only child, an infant then in the nurse's arms. The deer. driven by the hounds, and hemmed in by surrounding rocks, flew to a narrow pass, the only outlet they could find. Here the chief had placed one of his men to guard the deer from passing; but the animals rushed with such impetuosity, that the poor forester could not withstand them. In the rage of the moment, Maclean threatened the man with instant death, but this punishment was commuted to a whipping or scourging in the face of his clan, which in these feudal times was considered a degrading punishment fit only for the lowest of menials and the worst of crimes. The clansman burned with anger and fierce revenge. He rushed forward, SAGACITY OF DOGS.-I am indebted to Lord Stowell having lived some time with his brother at Tugsten in Northumberland, went to America, and took with him a pointer dog, which he lost soon afterwards while shooting in the woods near Baltimore. Some time after, Mr and Mrs Cook, who continued to reside at Tugsten, were alarmed at hearing a dog in the night. They admitted it into the house, and found that it was the same their brother had taken with him to America. The dog lived with them until his master returned home, when they mutually recognised each other. Mr Cook was never able to trace by what vessel the dog had left America, or in what part of England it had been landed. This anecdote confirms others which I have already mentioned relative to dogs finding their way back to this country from considerable distances.-Jesse's Gleanings. LONDON: Published, with Permission of the Proprietors, by ORR & SMITH, Paternoster Row; and sold by G. BERGER, Holywell Street, Strand; BANCKS & Co., Manchester: WRIGHTSON & WEBB, Birmingham; WILLMER & SMITH, Liverpool; W. E. SOMERSCALE, Leeds; C. N. WRIGHT, Nottingham; M. BINGHAM, Bristol; S. SIMMS, Bath; C. GAIN, Exeter; J. PURDON, Hull; A. WHITTAKER, Sheffield; H. BELLERBY, York; J. TAYLOR, Brighton; GEORGE YOUNG, Dublin; and all other Booksellers and Newsmen in Great Britain and Ireland, Canada, Nova Scotia, and United States of America. Complete sets of the work from its commencement, or numhers to complete sets, may at all times be obtained from the Publishers or their Agents. Stereotyped by A. Kirkwood, Edinburgh. CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "THE BOOK OF SCOTLAND," &c., AND BY ROBERT CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "TRADITIONS OF EDINBURGH," "PICTURE OF SCOTLAND," &c. No. 208. THE PHILOSOPHY OF AMUSEMENT. SOME are either by nature or by circumstances of so severe a spirit, that to them amusement in all its shapes appears as a departure from the strict path of rectitude. Others are so perplexed between their innate and irrepressible love of amusement, and their virtuous abhorrence of the abuses to which many means of entertainment are liable, that they can neither assent to the more ascetic view of the question, nor resolutely defend the other. There seems to be a want of principles upon this point-something which may enable us to act in reference to amusement with a clear conscience, and to which we may refer, both when we are tempted to actual amusement, and when the subject is discussed theoretically. SATURDAY, JANUARY 23, 1836. In endeavouring to ascertain the philosophy, as we may call it, of amusement, one fact strikes us at the first with great force-namely, that the power of producing amusement, and the power of enjoying it, are parts of our nature, and that, as with all other parts of our nature, there are things in the external world which seem to have been expressly created with an adaptation to them. Men possess, in greater or less degrees, the power of bodying forth the forms of things unknown in poetry, and the power of enjoying that poetry when it has been created. They possess, in greater or less degrees, a power of representing, in clay, stone, or by compositions of oil, earth, and canvass, real or imaginary objects, and also the power of enjoying the sight of those objects when so represented. They possess, in a greater or less degree, a power of feigning scenery, characters, and situations, resembling those of the actual world, and of enjoying those fictions or feignings, whether they be expressed in descriptive language, or set before the eye in a tangible form: hence the novel, the epic, the drama. Again, man is endowed with a faculty for so acting upon his own thoracic organs, or upon certain productions of inanimate nature, as to produce a melodious combination of sounds, pleasing both to him who produces them, and to others. By virtue of another part of our nature, it is ordained that, when we hear gay measures played in well-marked time, we instinctively desire to make certain corresponding movements of our muscular frame, these movements, termed dancing, being admirably calculated to promote the circulation of the blood and nervous influence all over the body, and thereby to strengthen the limbs, the heart, the lungs, and the brain-in short, to invigorate the health, and render the mind alert, cheerful, and happy. Now, if it be acknowledged that the Creator has, by the general arrangements of the world, manifested a disposition to confer happiness upon his creatureswhich, as far as we are aware, is never denied-we cannot for a moment doubt that the powers thus so conspicuous in our mental system, and operating so directly for enjoyment, were meant to be employed for that end. Amusement thus becomes simply a part of the great Beneficent Design, every part of which, however it may appear to us to differ from another in utility or dignity, is as certainly entitled to our respect, as its author is to his acknowledged character of great, good, and just. Another important principle of our nature argues powerfully in favour of amusement. The professional duties by which men in general earn their subsistence and maintain their place in society, are in all cases of such a nature as only to call into exertion a portion of their mental and bodily system. Something is required, at once to soothe and compensate us for the drudgery of our current labours, and to bring into exercise those portions of our muscular frame and intellect which professional duty has left unoccupied. That the harmonious and moderate exercise of all the parts of the system is indispensable to health, has already been impressed upon our readers: it is proved by the very craving which we experience, after a long task, for something which, by engaging faculties of an opposite kind, may allow those which are wearied to sink into rest. It is not more natural, indeed, for a tailor to enjoy repose in a standing posture, than it is for a lawyer, after closing his briefs, to find relief to his wearied reflecting powers in a tune upon the flute or violin. For the same reason, we find that we usually enjoy fiction of all kinds in proportion to the remoteness of the scenery, persons, and circumstances, from those with which we are familiar. As we have elsewhere had occasion to remark,* "the stories which Sir Walter Scott has narrated of Highland robbers and the heroes of the civil war, derive their charm, in a great measure, from their being read in the quiet and security of a civilised age. A young lady, happy within the walls of a boarding-school, delights to follow a fictitious heroine through every kind of danger and distress. The highly educated gentleman solaces himself with tales exhibiting the various passions of the savage breast; and the wealthy citizen, who never feels the want of any comfort, and is scrupulous to give no alms for which he is not rated, glows over pictures of unmerited poverty and agonising hardship. Even the poor, it would appear, have no sympathy with a literature referring only to the poor: they wish, when they read, to be introduced to scenes which they will never see in reality, and luxuries they are not likely ever to enjoy." All these phenomena of ordinary life may be traced to the calls which are made by the sympathies and intellectual powers left over by business, for such a share of exercise as may help to keep them in harmony with the rest. In amusements, as in every thing else, we must distinguish between the use and the abuse. That some young men, for the sake of music, neglect their graver duties, or that young ladies will sometimes think more earnestly about a dance than about their moral and intellectual improvement, forms no more a valid argument against music and dancing, than would the surfeit of Tom or Harry be a fair plea for the abolition of meat and drink. The fault does not lie with music or dancing in the abstract, but with something quite external, temporary, and accidental. In like manner, the drollery of the mime, and the living and majestic pictures of the tragedian, if it be at all possible that they can be enjoyed free from circumstances of a contaminating character, are not abstractly reprehensible. The faculties which produce entertainments of this kind, and the faculties which take pleasure in them, are, like all the rest, given to us for wise and kind purposes; when exercised in conformity with our moral obligations, they are a direct source of happiness, and our duty is, not altogether to suppress or repudiate them, but to guard against their abuse. With some care and discrimination, the line between the use and the abuse may be easily distinguished. In their active character, the powers for producing amusement may be generally described as a mere species of natural language or expression, which may be made subservient to the gratification of our grosser instincts, or of the moral and intellectual faculties, indifferently, according as they are applied. We may represent on canvass, in statuary, or in literary fiction, objects only calculated to demoralise; and this is a disgraceful abuse. But we may also body forth scenes calculated to excite, and by exciting to strengthen, the most refined and praiseworthy feelings, and carry for * History of English Literature (Chambers's Educational Course), 237. PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.. ward our whole being in the paths of virtue; and this is a right use of those gifts. The application of what may be called the faculties for amusement, naturally bears a reference to the general mental condition of any particular people. The citizens of ancient Rome were devotedly fond of sports in which human life was wantonly sacrificed; and the Spaniards of the present day indulge in spectacles which for certain involve great cruelty to animals, and often terminate in the destruction of combatants usually considered of a more rational character. It is obvious that the one people were, as the others are, in a moral condition of a very low description. In the days of Queen Elizabeth, persons of the best condition witnessed plays turning upon incidents and involving languagè which would now shock the most plebeian mind. In those of Charles II., with more of an air of fashion and smartness, the plays represented before the most illustrious companies were full of what the former class were exempt from deliberate profligacy. No one can doubt that the one class of plays was a natural emanation of the national mind at a time when it was rude, but not positively vicious, and that the other class was appropriate to a time when the national mind was positively vicious, but not rude. Since the last-mentioned age, owing to particular circumstances, the stage has not kept pace with the national morality; and it is now so much below it, that a large portion of the more enlightened and moral of our population altogetker reject theatrical amusements. But here, perhaps, the result is in a great measure the cause; for, by leaving the stage to those who are only fitted to abuse it, and to those who are content to draw from it impure amusement, the good may be said to doom it to a continuance in that degradation to which a vicious age formerly consigned it. The true way to render all our national and public entertainments innocent, is for the virtuous to enter, upon the consideration of them as natural and abstractly beneficial institutions, which it is possible to conduct in a manner satisfactory to morality, if the proper means be taken, while it is impossible, by any reprobation, to extirpate them. This result has been now in a great degree gained for the prose fiction or novel, and that simply by the exertions of virtuous writers to exceed the vicious in attractiveness. Not all the moralisings of all the worthy people of England could have so effectually put down the trash of the last century as did the works of Miss Edgeworth, Miss Austin, and Sir Walter Scott. It remains for individuals equally qualified to improve the stage by the same method; a work which, if we are not greatly mistaken, will not remain unperfected for many more years. As many well-meaning persons who cannot deny the truth of these propositions, may still think that there is some danger of their affording a sanction and a stimulus to a tendency naturally and at all times too great, we will conclude by saying a few words in anticipation of what we cannot help thinking an unsound objection. We would say in all humility, that not only is truth in itself a sacred thing, which never can be dangerous if every thing else be upon a right footing, but there is, in this case, a greater and more immediate danger from concealment, than can fairly be expected, upon the most illiberal consideration, from the more candid course. By telling young people, as many parents do, that amusements are altogether vicious, an act of deception is committed-an act in itself vile and reprehensible, and which the children are more apt to detect and value rightly than may be supposed. On discovering from accidental experience, that the pleasures so sweepingly condemned are not only to their own sensations innocent, but have been indulged in for a lifetime by certain of their fellow-creatures without perceptible harm, they in the first place lose all respect for the word of their parents, and in the next launch into the forbidden indulgences with a recklessness proportioned to their indignation at the deception. Sincerity, even with the very young, will invariably be found the best policy. If told, as we are now telling, that amusement is one of the necessaries of life, but ought to be moderately indulged in, and that various specific amusements are in themselves innocent, but practically are apt to mislead their votaries, and are not at present conducted in such a way that good men can freely indulge in them, it appears to us that all the necessary caution would be imposed, while there would be no danger of the children discovering their parents to be actuated, in their exhortations, by a deceiving spirit.* POPULAR INFORMATION ON SCIENCE. no fire in this case to absorb heat from, and there is no of electricity, these component colours are gradually It is We shall proceed now to make some remarks on THE labours of science, in times not far removed from light, as connected with heat applied to it. Light the present, were assiduously directed to the discovery is commonly said to travel from the sun in about of new bodies or elementary substances in nature, and, eight minutes, but, viewing it as an elementary body fortunately for modern inquirers, this tendency of pervading all space, it appears more rational to betheir predecessors was the means of eliciting many im-lieve that it is only put in motion by the sun. difficult to root out preconceived notions of things, or portant truths. As knowledge has advanced, how- rather words, so far as to admit the idea of light lying ever, the simplicity of nature's laws, and her wonder- dormant in darkness; but yet, is it not a fact as curiful economy of means, have become gradually more ous as strange, that heat resides in bodies to all apapparent, and the current of scientific investigation pearance devoid of it, and may even be excited in them has been turned in a great measure into an opposite by friction to the pitch of ignition? Thus during direction. Instead of seeking to add to the number of night, we may suppose the particles of light to be stagnant, because the sun, their great origin, has withthe elementary bodies, on which the phenomena of the drawn the exciting power, and also is not present to universe depend, the student of nature now examines supply the deficiencies which arise from absorption with deep attention those already supposed to exist, into the planetary surface. with a view to separate the imaginary from the true. This object may be attained either by proving bodies, hitherto considered simple, to be compound, or by showing their identity with some other bodies of the same class. No elementary substance has been the subject of so many speculations of this nature as the electric fluid; and we propose in this paper to point out the resemblance between many of its phenomena and those of light, heat, galvanism, and magnetism. That the two latter are merely modified forms of electricity, is indeed now generally admitted; but common belief still maintains the separate existence of light and heat. It may be mentioned, that, in this article, as in a former one, where the connection of the nervous energy with electricity was demonstrated, it is our intention simply to place the theory, presented to our readers, in the most favourable point of view, without attempting to refute all the objections that might be advanced against it. The sun, according to this theory, is the great centre from which emanates the element destined to assume so many forms, and known by so many appellations. At its original evolution, and while in the neighbourhood of the sun, it held the form of fire of the deepest intensity, but, before reaching our planet, it has become so diluted by expansion over the immensity of space, that we receive it in the condition of light, after its junction with the finest particles of terrestrial matter in the atmosphere. On its entering into combination with the grosser parts of the earth's surface, it is modified by their influence and by their power of receiving it in certain proportions, and becomes electricity and caloric, in their various sensible and dormant, or, as they are sometimes termed, active and latent forms. Light also has its dormant condition, and requires the agency of a luminous body to put it into action, in the same way that heat lies inactive in wood and other combustibles till excited by heat applied to it. Perhaps, however, it may be better to remove all ambiguity with respect to terms, by enumerating the various states in which heat or caloric is found, and the appellations under which these states are known. The first condition we shall mention is that of active heat. When one end of a rod of iron is put into a fire, either by the excitement of something in the rod itself, previously unperceived, or by imbibing something from the fire, it undergoes very soon an alteration sensible to the touch. What it has received, or has been excited in the rod, pervades and expands its substance, and is given off to any body brought into contact with it. The rod is then heated, or contains active heat, which good reasons induce us to believe depends very little on any thing added to the rod, but upon a change in what it contained before; a change of the heat to an active from a latent state. For if a rod, in all respects similar to that used before, is laid upon an anvil and beaten with a hammer, the same change takes place with this as with the former rod. There is * It is perhaps unnecessary to mention that the above paper forms a link in a chain of art cles presented in the fourth volume of the Journal, under the respective titles of "Use and Have," "Self killers, and Labour." For some hints towards the present composition, the writer was indebted to one of the lectures on moral philosophy, delivered to the Edinburgh Philosophical Association. The simplest proof that light is merely fire, but in a by using a large lens, we can recondense it to such a greatly diluted or rarified state, lies in the fact, that, degree of intensity that metals are melted and stones vitrified under its power, and this independently of the action of air, for the same effects take place when the experiment is made in a vacuum. Heat, it has been mentioned, lies dormant in substances till called forth by heat; and the case is similar with light. Phosphorus, hermetically inclosed in a phial-glass, is held in the sun to imbibe light; yet, when examined in a dark room, there is no effusion of light from it, unless held near a heated body, when it becomes immediately sorbed from the sun are expended. The phosphorus luminous, and will continue so, until all the rays abmay be re-endowed with solar light, and deprived of it, by repeating the process. This obedience to one law is a proof of great similarity between light and heat, and it also shows that substances may, like the time evolved in the shape of flame. Thus, in the phosphorus, absorb rays of solar light, to be at a future process of charring wood, its ignition is kept up in an apparatus which admits only so much air as is necessary for the life of the flame, without permitting it to blaze violently. The charcoal which is the result of the process, is highly inflammable; a circumstance which can scarcely be attributed to any principle in the matter of the wood itself, but is probably owing to the absorption of light during the life of the vegetable. If we consider light as diluted fire, the concentration of it in the process of charring, where the blaze is suppressed, and air as much as possible excluded, affords a ready explanation of the inflammable power of the charcoal. May we not be allowed to conjecture that the brilliancy of the diamond depends on some such power of absorbing and retaining condensed rays of light, since all the power of chemistry has been unable to discover in that gem, the ornament of the diadem, any other component than worthless charcoal? Be this as it may, the probability that latent light is evolved from substances in a state of flame, affords a strong presumption of the identity of light, heat, and fire. It would occupy too much time to trace further the connection between these elements, and indeed it will be rendered in some measure unnecessary by the explanations which must naturally be given, when the similarity of the whole to electricity will be shown. Some such explanation as has been given, however, was necessary, because the terms light, heat, and fire, may be used in a way that would otherwise have appeared an unwarranted intermingling of things dis tinct. A ray of light, when perceived through a clear medium, is white or colourless. When the electric spark is emitted from a perfect conductor, it is nearly a pure white; but if the conductor is imperfect, the spark assumes in general a reddish colour. Does not the sun in a foggy day present the same red tinge, from the imperfection of the medium through which his rays are transmitted? This white ray of light consists, we know, of seven combined tints; and these, when the ray is decomposed by a prism, are observed invariably to hold a certain position with respect to each other, from their different degrees of refrangibility. The electric spark, when examined by the same method, is found to contain these tints, presenting the same appearance, uumber, and arrangement. When some substances are subjected for a long period to a current All space being filled with what may be called latent light, the sun, when he mounts above the horizon, emits some of his rays, which put in motion the contiguous dormant particles, and, by alternate attraction and repulsion, in eight minutes the whole are affected, and "all is light." Whether we adopt this explanaray which reaches the earth to emanate immediately tion of the action of light, or that which supposes every from the sun, the rapidity of communication is equally astonishing. We are naturally inclined to ask, has it any parallel in nature?-and, if it has, may we not well doubt whether they are not one and the Wheatstone of King's College, on a large scale, exhisame? Some experiments lately made by Professor bit the remarkable velocity with which the electris fluid passes along a proper conducting medium. Half a mile of copper wire was arranged in parallel portions of one hundred and twenty feet, and one short break was made in the centre of the wire, for the purpose of observing the difference in time between the flash which communicated the electricity to the whole wire, and the flash in passing or leaping the break. To note this properly, he placed the two ends of the wire near the break, and on the charge being given from the machine, the eye could perceive no difference in time between the charging flash and the spark at the break. By the employment of a revolving mirror, however, of great nicety, a slight difference was ascertained. The sparks, when reflected on the mirror, presented this appearance , the upper and lower lines representing the charge to and from the wire, the middle line representing the spark leaping the break. If the sparks had been simultaneous, the ends of the lines on the mirror would have been parallel. From the number of times the mirror revolved in a second, a calculation was made that the 1,152,000th part of a second was the time occupied in the passage of the electric fluid, which would give a velocity of 288,000 miles in a second. Our calculations of the sun's distance, and of the rapidity of motion in light, are both somewhat imperfect, and 200,000 miles in a second have been usually stated, in round numbers, as near the truth. The experiment of Professor Wheatstone is very beautiful, but it is difficult to conceive absolute correctness in a matter of such nicety. It is therefore not improbable that successive trials may bring the comparative velocities, as they are called, of these two bodies, to s closer point. It should be taken into account, also, that the medium through which the solar rays are transmitted, varies very much, and must to some extent affect the passage. That the method of motion of the electrical power is the same as that we have attributed to light, is borne out by experiment and observation. In the experiment mentioned above, it is not to be supposed that all the electric fluid which passed along the copper wire was derived from a single spark of the machine. Like the sun's power on the latent light of the atmosphere, the spark was only the exciting stimulus which set in motion the dormant electric particles on the wire. If twenty persons join hands and receive an electric shock, the electricity in |