THE PERAMBULATOR. NORWOOD AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD. Francis Bourgeois; and during the summer season the parties who visit it are numerous. Aubin's School of Industry contains near a thousand poor children from different parishes; some so young that they can hardly walk. The object of the school is, to give them a better education_than is to be obtained in workhouses and asy I HAVE been roaming around this pleasant neighbourhood; at one time gazing on the interesting objects of creation, at another, taking a hasty glance at places of notoriety; Beulah Spa, Dulwich Gallery, and Aubin's School of Industry have all been visited; and now, looking around me from this commanding emi-lums, and especially to instruct them in nence, I am noting down my wandering thoughts. It has been a glorious day, and shame ought to redden my cheek and oppress my heart, if I have been an ungrateful partaker of the balmy air, the beauteous prospect, and the kindling skies. Not yet have the feathered race suspended their tuneful songs, nor has the glowing sun withdrawn his beams. Insects are on the wing, and the golden foliage of autumn gives a richness to the spreading scene. The hawthorn bushes are laden with berries, and the sere and ruddy leaves of the oak blend harmoniously with the varied tints of shrub and bush and tree. This season is called the fall; but the poet sings sweetly in its praise. "How call ye this the season's fall, That seems the pageant of the year? The pomp that spring and summer wear. On rock, and stream, and winding shore; With amber clouds are curtain'd o'er. Beneath the evening's wings of gold; And banks their mingled hues unfold. Is strewn with fallen leaves that lie Beneath a crimson canopy." Beulah Spa is not without its attractions. Its grounds, diversified with lawn and woodland scenery, with grots and groves, and seats, and shrubs and flowers, are a pleasant retreat for leisure and recreation. Pure air may be breathed, medicinal water taken, and society or seclusion enjoyed. Dulwich is famous for two things, its college and its gallery of pictures. The former was founded in 1617, by Edward Alleyn, a comedian; it is called the College of God's Gift. No governor can be appointed whose name is not Alleyn. There are many singular arrangements and requirements respecting those who receive the benefit of the institution. The picture gallery contains the splendid collection of paintings bequeathed by sir useful callings, that, on leaving the place, they may be creditable members of the community, and be able to get their bread honestly, wherever they may be thrown. The different trades of shoemaker, tailor, tinman, carpenter, and others, are taught the boys, while the girls learn to sew, knit, plat straw, make bonnets, and get up linen. The elder boys are taught the duties of a sailor, and for this purpose mount the mast and yards that are provided for their accommodation. The school appears well conducted; and being intended as a model establishment, will perhaps exert a very extended influence over generations yet to come. Look where I will, I see a varied scene. The green fields and grassy slopes are diversified with verdant woods and handsome mansions. Yonder is the church, and farther on the Cemetery, the resting place of the dead, A solemn thought my wandering mind controls; Their bodies slumber there-where are their souls? The hamlet of Norwood is scattered around an extensive common, partly in the liberties of Lambeth, and partly in Croydon. The Horns public-house is yet in existence, not actually the noted house of olden time, but a more modern one erected in its place. There is another Norwood between the Hounslow and Uxbridge roads, about eleven or twelve miles from London. It is called Northwide, or Northwode, that is, the north wood: it is in the hundred of Elthorne. Croydon and its common are not very distant; the railroad to the places has much altered its character. In Doomsday-book Croydon is called Croindone. It is surrounded by Streatham, Lambeth, Beckenham, Addington, Sandersted, Coulson, Beddington, and Mitcham. Archbishop Parker, whose learning and virtues were almost proverbial, resided principally at the palace, or manorial house, near the church. He once entertained there, for the space of seven days, queen Elizabeth and the whole of her court. Mitcham was once called Michelham, or the Great Dwelling. At the time of the Conqueror's survey, there were two manors in Mitcham; one had been held by Brictric, of the Confessor; the other, by Lemarus, of king Edward. A small common, in the parish of Mitcham, once went by the name of Figg's Marsh; this in time became altered to Pig's Marsh; a fact less accordant with taste than with familiarity. : Beddington lies between Croydon and Carshalton in Doomsday-book it is Beddintone. Some have supposed the name to be derived from "Bedding," the Saxon term for a bed, or a lodging, and that the place was the first stage from London, on one of the then existing high roads. Queen Elizabeth paid a visit to sir Francis Carew, at Beddington, for three days, and the following year she paid him another visit. It is in reference to one of these visits that the following anecdote is told by sir Hugh Platt. "Here I will conclude," says he, "with a conceit of that delicate knight, sir Francis Carew, who, for the better accomplishment of his royal entertainment of our late queen Elizabeth, of happy memory, at his house at Beddington, led her majesty to a cherry tree, whose fruit he had of purpose kept back from ripening, at the least one month after all cherries had taken their farewell of England. This secret he performed, by straining a tent or cover of canvas over the whole tree, and wetting the same now and then with a scoop or horn, as the heat of the weather required; and so, by withholding the sunbeams from reflecting upon the berries, they grew both great, and were very long before they had gotten their cherry colour; and when he was assured of her Majesty's coming, he removed the tent, and a few sunny days brought them to their full maturity." While noting down these remarks, an invalid lady has been carried by on a couch, borne on men's shoulders; she is going, I suppose, to her own house from that of a friend. How are clouds and sunshine, health and sickness, joy and sorrow, mingled in our existence! and how necessary is it to know, that "affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground," Job v. 6. I can just catch a glimpse of Carshalton, a little to the right of Beddington. It was once written Aulton, or Old Town. In the reign of king John it was called Kersaulton, and since then it has been called Kersalton, Carsalton, Cresalton, and Kresalton. For the last two centuries, however, it has possessed its present name. It lies in the hundred of Wallington; but I must hurry on to Clapham, for even then I shall have to reach Wimbledon before the sun declines. How delightful it is, in health and spirits, to roam thus from place to place, not with liberty of limb only, but with true liberty of heart, To rove with buoyant heart and wondering eyes, It is hard to think that this beautiful common of Clapham was once little better than a wild morass, with the few roads about it almost impassable; yet such was the case. Now, the spot is a lovely one; the air is pure, and in all directions delightful villas rise around. There are at this moment the young ladies of three schools promenading the green turf. Nurse girls, with infants in their arms, are numerous and many a fond mamma is gazing on her little ones, mounted on their donkey steeds, with their donkey drivers to attend them. Some of the residences within my view have been inhabited by the worthy of the world, well known for their benevolence. Going about doing good, their hearts and their purses were open; for they were anxious for the welfare of the souls and bodies of their fellow men. The once Christian-hearted tenant of yonder mansion, by the pool, was beckoned away to a heavenly inheritance only a few years back. He was a faithful steward of what his heavenly Master had committed to his hand; and the message, "Come up hither," was not unwelcome. The other day I peeped into the stables, as I walked round the premises with a friend, and saw a pair of fresh coach horses in their new harness, just about to be tried. The poor aged brutes, who had drawn their master on so many of his kind-hearted visits to the poor afflicted, were growing too infirm for their accustomed duties. The coachman seemed divided in his affections, now looking at his old comrades with sympathy, and now regarding his more spirited new acquaintances with complacency. Clapham, once Clopeham, is in the hundred of East Brixton, and is thought to have had its name from one of its ancient proprietors. Osgod Clappa was the name of the Danish lord, at whose daughter's marriage feast in Lambeth Hardicanute died. Streatham is at no great distance. "Strete " is the Saxon for highway, and "ham 99 is a dwelling. Between Streatham and Tooting, on the side of a small common, is a villa, which once belonged to Henry Thrale, esq. Dr. Johnson spent much of his time beneath that hospitable roof. As I came past the place, the figure of the learned doctor was before me, not only as it is seen in the frontispiece of his dictionary, but also as it appears in marble in the cathedral of St. Paul's. The great lexicographer has made society his debtor; and never do I consult his dictionary without feeling a grateful sense of my individual obligation. Many good writers render a service to a part of society, but the author of a good dictionary confers a benefit upon all. Instances of singular epitaphs may be found in most burial places; and the chancel of Streatham church has one, wherein the bereaved husband is made to declare, that though he lived ten thousand years, he could not speak sufficiently in praise of his departed partner. The grave is, of all places, the most unsuitable to indulge in extravagant praise of a human being. A great many commendable things might be said of a good wife in ten minutes, but ten thousand years devoted to such a purpose, would indeed seem to set forth a pattern of perfection, altogether unattainable by fallen humanity. How much more striking, solemn, and suitable, than such lavish commendation, would be the simple inscription over the resting-place of a virtuous and Christian woman, "I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord," Rev. xiv. 13; or, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord," Job i. 21. kingly cares. The spirit of by-gone times seems to be present; for yonder goodly oaks and elms, clothed with grandeur and beauty, have been gazed upon by the parties I have named. Wimbledon was anciently spelled Wymbaldon and Wimbledon. This may have been from an owner of the land, "Don being the Saxon for a hill. The place is in the western division of Brixton hundred. At the south end of Wimbledon common was an encampment with a single ditch, enclosing about seven acres of ground. It is said that Ossac and Cnebba, two of the generals of Ethelbert, were killed here. Ethelbert was defeated by Ceaulin, king of the West Saxons. In Camden's time the encampment went by the name of Bensbury. There was a tradition, which gained much credence at one period, namely, that a certain well of water on the common, even in the severest winter, was never frozen over. When once a tradition has rooted itself in the belief of a neighbourhood, it is not soon eradicated; it is only when it is doubted that it excites investigation. There is in the churchwarden's account at Kingston the following record: "1599. Paid for mending the ways when the queen went from Wimbledon to Nonsuch, twenty pence." Money had a very different value then to what it now possesses. What would the Telfords and M'Adams of the present day do for twenty pence? In years gone by, on the death of any freeholder in this manor, the lord was held entitled to his best horse, saddle, and bridle, as well as his spear, sword, and boots; and if he died possessed of any armour, that also became the property of the lord. Such a custom marks a striking difference between ancient and modern times. But the sun is now setting; a solemn monitor, not to me only, but to the world. And will it be that the glowing orb yonder will go down for the last time setting in darkness? Yes! but the kindling skies will be surpassed in glory, and the redeemed of the Lord shall see a light and a brightness "above the brightness of the sun," when they behold him face to face in his eternal kingdom! Well, then, may we press on eagerly to redeem the time, Eph. v. 16. Well may we say to ourselves, in the language of the New Zealand chief, "Make haste! make haste! for my sun is fast going down!" THE MOUNTAIN PLANTAIN. We met with this species only at some few of the Society Islands, and at Santa Christina, Marquesas. Its Tahitian name is fei, its Marquesan, huitu. It is never cultivated, but grows in great abundance in the moist and sheltered ravines of mountain-lands, forming extensive groves that are elegantly contrasted with the wild character of the surrounding highland vegetation. In growth and size it resembles the cultivated species of the lowlands. The herbaceous stalk has, externally, a dark marbled appearance, and its internal pithy structure is loaded with a pink fluid, of very astringent taste. The leaves do not differ materially from those of the common plantain, excepting in the arrangement of their nervures. The most remarkable peculiarity in this tree, is the position of its flower spike, which instead of nodding over the trunk, as in the plantain of the plains, stands erect in the centre of the crowning tuft of leaves, and has a footstalk of sufficient size and strength to support the weighty cluster of fruit in this less convenient position. Each tree bears but one bunch of fruit, of which the average weight is the same as that of the cultivated kinds, although each individual fruit is larger, more obtuse, and when ripe, of a bright orange colour; the pulp is very yellow, and notwithstanding its uncultivated state, contains no fertile seeds. This fruit, when only just ripe, is acrid and unpalatable in the raw state, and when cooked, is not very agreeable to Europeans; but when "dead-ripe," it may be enjoyed even in the raw state, and when roasted, is a very wholesome and luscious food. These differences lead European navigators in the Pacific, to entertain so many different opinions respecting the merits of the species as an esculent. It is the daily food of the natives of Raiatea, and, together with the bread fruit, affords their principal vegetable sustenance. The Society Islanders distinguish several varieties of the tree, but two only came under my own observation: the one named potía, bearing a very large globular fruit; the other producing a berry which, when ripe, has the same pale colour as the banana. When the fei tree has perfected its fruit it perishes; and is succeeded by a scion The wild plantain of the eastern hemisphere has been found to produce large and fertile seeds. from its own roots; its increase over the land it inhabits is also effected by solens, or offsets.-F. B. Bennett. SCRIPTURE ILLUSTRATIONS FROM CHINESE CUSTOMS AND LITERATURE. No. VIII. THE PIPE. "THEY are like unto children sitting in the market place, and calling one to another, and saying, We have piped unto you, and ye have not danced; we have mourned to you, and ye have not wept," Luke vii. 32. This proverb marks out two seasons, which are the inverse of each other, a time of rejoicing, and a time of mourning. The anniversary of some national deliverance, the ingathering of the corn and the vintage, or some gracious interposition of Providence, stirred up the people of a neighbourhood to acts of joy and festivity. It was then incumbent upon all to share in the general cheerfulness and merry-making, and those who refused to do so were regarded as sullen and devoid of humanity. have piped unto you, and ye have not danced;" we found nothing in your conduct that was responsive to our own: while our hearts were glad and buoyant, ye maintained a peevish and melancholy silence. "We Then In times of distress and humiliation, bereavement, or general calamity, the inhabitants of the village went out of their doors, and awakened the echo in the distant hills by their loud wailings. they who declined to take up the strain and join in the mournful chorus, were looked upon as persons who had not sagacity enough to reflect, that misfortune is the common lot of man; nor any feelings to be moved in sympathy for others. "We have mourned to you, and ye have not wept." The joys and prospects of the gospel can never charm some men, neither can the self-denial and mortification of a true repentance affect them. But our business, in the present paper, is with the joyous part of this saying; and we may remark, in the first place, that the pipe was the emblem of joy and happiness. This we gather from the proverb, which our Saviour in his condescending familiarity thought fit to employ: "We have piped," or we have been glad, but ye were not merry. Now the Chinese regard the pipe, or flute, in the same light. A boy, mounted on a buffalo and play- | ing on a pipe, may sometimes be seen going forth at the approach of evening, to call home the herd of buffaloes. But this mode is practised only in times of great peace and prosperity. If, therefore, in passing over the hills and valleys of China, the traveller should hear the flute as it warbles the wild notes of the country, he might infer, that the villagers had enjoyed many years of plenty; and from the long continuance of their tranquillity, had been taught to consider themselves far from the alarms of war. The flute seems to have been a very ancient instrument, and was invented, perhaps, at the time when men first began to tend their flocks and herds. A breeze blowing into the aperture of a broken reed would suggest the idea of its musical powers. And as the shepherds and herdsmen had much leisure, which they were desirous of filling up, in some way that did not interfere with the tendance of their cattle, they were easily led to imitate the effects of the wind upon the reed, by blowing into it themselves. In the course of their experiments, they discovered that a difference in length occasioned a difference in the pitch of the sound, and that holes in the reed had the same effect. And hence we have the origin of the flute, which at first had but a few holes. In the forty-eighth volume of the "Leke," a work which gives a minute account of the ancient usages of the Chinese nation, a figure of a flute with three holes is given, and called yo, and is designated by one of the undecomposable elements of the language. This last circumstance proves the high antiquity of the instrument, as it is apparent that it was coeval with the formation, not merely of the written character, but of the oral signs, or words, which constituted the medium of communication between the first inhabitants of the country. In the Chinese flute there is a chink just below the upper end, which corresponds with a narrow perforation in the end itself. An instrument very much like this is still in use among the Welsh peasantry, and is the relic of the old English flute, a bec. The invention of an embouchure, or hole for the mouth, is more recent than that of the flute itself.* This was the case among the The German flute is filled by an embouchure, the old English flute at the end. Modern Chinese flutes are like the German flute. Chinese, as well as among some of our ancient progenitors. "At the dance and the mask the yo or pipe, is always in use," says the authority cited in the "Leke." "As soon as the pipe is played, the dance begins." "And all the people came up after him, and the people piped with pipes, and rejoiced with great joy, so that the earth rent with the sound of them," 1 Kings i. 40. In this passage the sound of the pipe and shouts of public rejoicing are coupled together. It is therefore highly confirmatory of what has been said in the foregoing paragraphs. We have three things braced together in the narrative, a king, pipes, and rejoicing. In the ancient court diversion of the Chinese, we saw a king, the pipes and dancing cast into one assemblage. It is plain then, that the Jews, who followed Solomon, endeavoured to please him very nearly in the same way that the courtiers in China sought to soothe and delight their master. The antiquity of the pipe is referred to in Ezek. xxviii. 13. "The workmanship of thy tabrets and of thy pipes was prepared in the day that thou wast created. From the foundation of Tyre, the pipe had been the emblem of her rejoicing, and the pledge of her prosperity. She had been merry from the day in which her political existence had been created. In Isa. v. 12, the pipe is enumerated with the guitar, lute, and tabret. "Therefore mine heart shall sound for Moab like pipes, and mine heart shall A HINT TO PEDESTRIANS. ing this march; and it gave me a good We were six or seven days in perform |