Imágenes de páginas

require more than one illustration of this kind to convey an A monumental alto relievo, consisting of three figures, to the memory of adequate notion of its various beauties and merits, for there the late Mr William Beamish, for Blackrock Chapel, Cork-L.650. is scarcely a point in which it can be viewed in which it is not Monument to the late Dr Brinkley, Bishop of Cloyne. A colossal figure equally effective and striking. The subject, as a sculptural in relievo for the Cathedral of Cloyne. one should be, is of the most extreme simplicity, and yet of the

An alto relievo for the Convent at Rathfarnham. most impressive interest—a Christian prelate in the act of

An alto relievo for the Chapel at Ross, county of Wexford, commissioned offering up a last appeal to heaven for the regeneration of his from John Maher, Esq. M. P.—&c. &c. country, which is personified by a beautiful female figure, who is represented in an attitude of dejection at his side. In this combination of the real and the allegorical there is nothing

ON ANIMAL TAMING. obscure or unintelligible even to the most illiterate mind. In

FIRST ARTICLE. the figure of the prostrate female we recognise at a glance the attributes of our country, and there existed no necessity for That all animals, however fierce and ungovernable may be the name “ Erin," inserted in very questionable taste upon her their natural dispositions, have nevertheless implanted by a zone, to determine her character. She is represented as rest- wise Providence within their breasts a certain awe, a vague, ing on one knee, her body bent and humbled, yet in her ma- indefinable dread of man, which, although meeting with him jestic form retaining a fullness of beauty and dignity of cha- for the first time, will induce them to fly his presence, or at racter ; her turret-crowned head resting on one arm, while all events shun encounter, is, we think, a fact which no obthe other, with an expression of melancholy abandonment, re- server of nature will deny. This instinct of submission to clines on and sustains her ancient harp. In the male figure human beings exists among all creatures, and the greater the which stands beside her in an attitude of the most unaffected intelligence they possess, the more powerful is its operation. grace and dignity, we see a personification of the sublime in the When we meet with instances of a nature calculated to overEpiscopal character. He stands erect, bis enthusiastic and turn this theory—such as wild animals attacking and destroy. deeply intellectual countenance directed upwards imploringly, ing travellers, or preying upon the shepherd as he guards his while with one hand he touches with delicate affection his fock, with others of a similar description—instead of hastily earthly mistress, and with the other, stretched forth with presuming upon the falsity of the above position, we should passionate devotion, he appeals to heaven for her protection. rather seek for some explanation of the reasons which in these This is true and enduring poetry; and, as expressive of the cases checked for the time the workings of the animal's natusentiment of religious patriotism unalloyed by any selfish con- ral instinct. These will be for the niost part easily enough sideration, is far superior to the thought which Moore has so discovered, if sought for in a spirit of impartial inquiry. The exquisitely expressed in the well-known lines--

lion and the tiger are prompted by natural instinct to shun the “ In my last humble prayer to the spirit above,

haunts and the presence of man--they choose for their lairs Thy name shall be mingled with mine !"

dark and impenetrable forests—they select for their habitation Such is the touching poetical sentiment embodied in this a situation whither man has not as yet approached-and acwork, which, considered merely as a work of art, has merits cording as the work of settlement and cultivation advances, above all praise. In the beauty of its forms, its classical they retreat before it into their dark and gloomy fastnesses. purity of design, its simplicity and freedom from affectation Does the traveller encounter a lion or a tiger? The animal or mannerism, its exquisite finish and characteristic execu- is prompted by nature to give place to him, and usually slinks tion, and its pervading grace, truth, and naturalness, it is be- off, growling with the thirst for blood, but still fearing to yond question the finest production of art in monumental attack man. The shouts of women and children suffice to sculpture that Irish genius has hitherto achieved; and, taken scare the fierce and rapacious wolves, as they descend in all and all, is, as we honestly believe, without a rival in any troops from the mountains to appease their hunger with vicwork of the same class in the British empire.

tims from the flocks of the shepherds. The bear meets with We regret to have to state that Mr Hogan is, as we are in the bold hunter or woodcutter in the American backwoods, formed, as yet unpaid for this great national work, or that at but is never known to attack him, unless the instinct of subleast there is more than a moiety of the sum agreed for, which mission to man is overruled by other instincts for the time was one thousand pounds, remaining due to him. But surely more imperative in their demands. True, if the lion be hun. his country, which has the deepest interest in sustaining him gry when the traveller shall cross his path, he will sometimes, in his career of glory; will not suffer him to depart from her though such instances are of rare occurrence, attack and deshores without fulfilling her part of a compact with one who vour him. True, if the wolves are unable to satisfy their has so nobly completed his. We cannot believe it.

appetite by other means, they will attack and devour human It will be seen by a retrospective glance at the details which beings; and if the bear be likewise rendered furious by the we have given of Mr Hogan's labours during the past seven. calls of hunger, she will treat the woodsman with little teen years in which he has been toiling as a professional ceremony. Still these instances only show that hunger overartist, that those labours have been any thing but commensu- comes fear-an explanation which no one can refuse to admit. rately rewarded ; they have indeed been barely sufficient to What indeed will not the gnawings of hunger effect? Has it enable him to sustain existence. But brighter prospects are not caused fathers to butcher their sons, mothers to devour opening upon him for the future. His character as a sculptor the infant at their breast? When capable, then, of overcome is now established beyond the possibility of controversy. His ing the most powerful of instincts, maternal affection, and merits have been recently recognised and honoured by the that too in the teeth of reason, how can we wonder at its highest tribunal in the City of the Arts with a tribute of appro- overcoming an inferior instinct, and that in a brute animal bation never before bestowed on a native of the British Isles: where there existed nothing to be overcome beyond that inhe has been elected unanimously, and without any solicita- stinct? I might write a vast deal upon this subject; but my tion or anticipation on his part, a member of the oldest Aca. object is merely to show, at starting, that an instinctive awe demy of the Fine Arts in Europe—that which enrolled amongst of man, and a disposition to yield to his authority, is inherent its members the divine Raphael, and all the other illustrious in the lower animals. This, then, being the case, it will reaartists of the age of Leo, and which holds its meetings upon dily be perceived that the domestication of any animal by their graves—the Academy of the Virtuosi del Pantheon. man only requires that he should carefully remove all obstaHis fellow-countrymen are also beginning to have a just appre- cles to the operation of this instinctive principle; and on the ciation of his merits, and are coming forward nobly to supply other hand, employ suitable means to strengthen and estabhiny with employment for future years; and when he returns lish it. There are, doubtless, but few of my readers who to his Roman studio, it will be to labour on works worthy of have not witnessed the performances of Van Amburgh, and his country's liberality, and calculated to raise her fame likewise those of Van Buren with Batty's collection. They amongst the civilized nations of the world. Need we add, that have, I am sure, been greatly astonished at the degree of sub. he has our most ardent wishes for his future success and happi-jection to which these wild animals were reduced, and they ness!

P. are doubtless curious to learn how this end was attained. For the satisfaction of our readers we are induced to append to the pre- As I happened to make myself acquainted with the mode in eeding notice of Mr Hogan the following list of some of the principal com

which the subjection of these fierce brutes was effected, I am missions which he has recently received in Ireland :

happy to be able to render them some information. The The Monument to the late Mr Secretary Drummond.

treatment was simple enough. It consisted mainly of two inA Statue of the late Mr William Crawford of Cork, for which Mr Hogan gredients-Ist, ample feeding, in order that the instinct of is to receive L.1000,

appetite should not present itself in opposition to that of dread


of man; and, 2d, liberal chastisement and severe blows on the quote his account of Sullivan's performances, to which he states slightest appearance of rebellion, in order to strengthen and himself to have been an eye-witness :firmly establish their awe of him.

“ James Sullivan was a native of the county of Cork, and an I myself have devoted a good deal of time to the domestica- awkward ignorant rustic of the lowest class, generally known tion of animals, and by following out the two principles just by the appellation of the Whisperer ;' and his profession was laid down, I found myself invariably successful. The polecat, horse-breaking: The credulity of the vulgar bestowed that although of inconsiderable size, is an animal of infinitely epithet upon him from an opinion that he communicated his greater fierceness than the tiger; yet I had one so thoroughly wishes to the animal by means of a whisper, and the singu. domesticated that it was permitted to enjoy perfect liberty. larity of his method gave some colour to the superstitious beI succeeded equally with the fox, the badger, and the otter, as As far as the sphere of his control extended, the boast a paper which recently appeared in the Penny Journal was of veni, vidi, vici, was more justly claimed by James Sullivan designed to show. In fact, I should say that mere fierceness than by Cæsar, or even Bonaparte himself. How his art was is but a very slight obstacle to domestication—timidity is much acquired, or in what it consisted, is likely to remain for ever harder to be overcome. The timid races of animals require unknown, as he has lately left the world without divulging it. a mode of treatment directly opposed to the above. They His son, who follows the same occupation, possesses but a require to have their dread of man diminished, and their bold small portion of the art, having either never learned its true ness encouraged. If you wish to tame a very timid animal, secret, or being incapable of putting it in practice. The instead of supplying it with food you must let it fast, in order wonder of his skill consisted in the short time requisite to acto render it so bold with hunger that it will eat in your pre-complish his design, which was performed in private, and sence and from your hand. If you can get its confidence without any apparent means of coercion. Every description raised to such a degree that it will bite you or attempt to do of horse, or even mule, whether previously broke, or unhanso, so much the better—those little vices will afterwards be dled, whatever their peculiar vices or ill habits might have easily eradicated. I have succeeded in familiarizing the most been, submitted without show of resistance to the magical inslutimid creatures--the rat and the mouse, for instance. The ence of his art, and in the short space of half an hour became public has already had an account of how I succeeded with gentle and tractable. The effect, though instantaneously prothe former of these animals in the pages of the “ Medical duced, was generally durable ; though more submissive to him Press” and “ Naturalist.” Some of these days I shall give than to others, yet they seemed to have acquired a docility a paper on the latter in the Penny Journal.

unknown before. When sent for to tame a vicious horse, he Van Amburgh has done much with his animals; but in con- directed the stable in which he and the object of his experisequence of exhibiting with specimens not as yet perfectly ment were placed, to be shut, with orders not to open the subdued, he has met with some severe accidents. More cau- door until a signal was given. After a tete-a-tete between tion and less haste would have prevented these. One of the him and the horse for about half an hour, during which principal ingredients that should enter into the composition little or no bustle was heard, the signal was made; and of an amimal tamer, is COURAGE. If the animal you are en- on opening the door, the horse was seen lying down, and deavouring to domesticate perceive that you fear it—and ani- the man by his side, playing familiarly with him, like a mals are instinctively sharp-sighted—from that instant all child with a puppy dog. From that time he was found chance of control ceases. You must be prepared to endure perfectly willing to submit to discipline, however repugnant bites, scratches, &c. with, at all events apparent, recklessness, to his nature before. Some saw his skill tried on a horse and should never suffer any thing to delay your chastisement: which could never before be brought to stand for a smith to the severer it is, the less frequently will you have to repeat shoe him. The day after Sullivan's half-hour lecture, I went, it. Van Amburgh possesses this ingredient in an eminent not without some incredulity, to the smith's shop, with many degree. I once saw him exhibiting with his superb Barbary other curious spectators, where we were eye-witnesses of the lion, since dead ; as he left the cage, the animal rushed at complete success of his art. This, too, had been a troop him, and succeeded in inflicting a sharp scratch upon his hand. horse, and it was supposed, not without reason, that after reNow, had Van Amburgh displayed fear, or in short acted gimental discipline had failed, no other would be found avail. otherwise than he did, his reign had been over, and the lion ing. I observed that the animal seemed afraid whenever Sulwould in all probability have renewed his attack the next op- livan either spoke or looked at him. How that extraordinary portunity, and have killed him. But what did he do? He ascendancy could have been obtained, it is difficult to conjec. returned into the cage, and advancing sternly and undauntedly ture. In common cases this mysterious preparation was untowards the lion, saluted him with a shower of blows over the necessary. He seemed to possess an instinctive power of inhead and face, with the small iron rod which he always carried spiring awe, the result perhaps of natural intrepidity, in which with him. And mark the result. The brute at once yielded, I believe a great part of his art consisted ; though the circumquailed before his master, who, planting a foot upon the pros- stance of the tete-a-tete shows that upon particular occasions trate body of his late assailant, coolly wiped the blood from something more must have been added to it. A faculty like his hand, amidst the deafening plaudits of the spectators, who this would in other hands have made a fortune, and great of. had witnessed the appalling scene with feelings more easily fers have been made to him for the exercise of his art abroad; imagined than described.

but hunting, and attachment to his native soil, were his ruling There is another description of animal taming, which I passions. He lived at home in the style most agreeable to must not omit to mention, viz, by charms or drugs. There his disposition, and nothing could induce him to quit Dunhalwere, and are indeed still to be met with, although more low and the foxhounds." Other whisperers have lived since rarely than formerly, persons who profess to be able, by some Sullivan, but none of them have attained an equal degree of secret spell or charm, to tame the fiercest horse, or calm the fame. I met with one some years ago of the name of O'Hara, fury of the most ferocious watch-dog. There are also per- and I can truly affirm that his performances were indeed wonsons who follow the trade of rat-catching, and pretend that derful, and precisely similar to those of Sullivan. How by means of certain drugs they can entice away all the rats O'Hara discovered the secret, I know not ; neither am I sure from the premises to which they are called in to exercise their that it was identical with that possessed by Sullivan. On one skill. There are also a set of men in India and Persia who occasion, while under the influence of liquor, O'Hara was profess to charm serpents, and draw them from their holes. heard to declare that the secret lay in rocking the horse ; but Of these last it is not at present my design to speak. I may, on another, when equally tipsy, he mentioned biting the animal's however, return to them in a future paper.

It is already I believe known to those acquainted with The first of these, or those who pretend to possess the horses, that by grasping the shoulder with one hand just where power of quelling the spirit of the horse, or appeasing the vi- the mane begins, and laying the other with firmness upon the gilant fury of the dog, are now but few in number, and very crupper, and then swaying the animal backwards and forwards, seldom to be met with. They abounded more in Ireland than beginning with a very gentle motion and gradually increasing they did in the sister kingdom, and were called “whisperers.” | it, you will in a few minutes be able to throw the horse on his Perhaps the best mode in which I can bring them and their side with a comparatively trifling degree of exertion ; and it practices before my readers, is by giving them an account of is certain that this treatment is frequently resorted to by the last and most celebrated whisperer that we recollect. His knowing jockeys to break the spirit of a stubborn horse ; for name was James Sullivan, and he possessed the power of after having been thrown twice, or at most thrice, the spirit taming the most furious horse, if left alone with him for about of the animal seems wholly subdued, and he appears possessed half an hour. The name of this singular man is recorded by with the most unqualified respect and dread of the person who Townsend in his “Survey of the County of Cork," and we shall I threw him. This was in all probability what I'llara meant



by rocking, and I have little doubt but that this was one of the component parts, at all events, of the treatment resorted to by the whisperers. As to biting the ear, I have seen this tried, and that successfully. If you succeed in getting the ear of the most vicious horse between your teeth, and bite it with all your force, you will find the rage of the animal suddenly subside, his spirit will appear to have forsaken him, and a word or a look from you will cause him to start and tremble with excess of terror. Once the ferocity of an animal is removed, it is an easy matter to conciliate his affections. May not these two modes of treatment combined, or one or the other, as the occasion seemed to require, have constituted the secret of the wonder-working whisperers? The suggestion is at least plausible, and the experiment should be fully tried cre it be rejected.

In an article which appeared lately on the subject of animal taming in the Times newspaper, mention is made of Mr King, owner of the “learned horse" at present exhibiting in London. This person states that his secret depends upon pressing a certain nerve in the horse's mouth, which he calls the "nerve of susceptibility." May not the act of whispering have likewise depended upon compressing with the teeth some similar nerve in the ear?

H. D. R.


BY J. U. U.

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“ RAPHAEL was buried in the Pantheon (Sta. Maria della Rotonda), in a chapel which he had himself endowed, and near the place where his betrothed bride had been laid. The immediate neighbourhood was afterwards selected by other painters as their place of rest. Baldassane Peruzzi, Giovanni da Udine, Pierino del Vaga, Taddeo Zuccaro, and others, are buried near. No question had ever existed as to the precise spot where the remains of the master lay; but a few years since the Roman antiquaries began to raise doubts even respecting the church in which Raphael was buried. In the end, permission was obtained to make actual search; and Vasari's account was in this instance verified. The tomb was found as he describes it, behind the altar itself of the chapel above mentioned. Four views of the tomb and its contents were engraved from drawings by Cammucini, and thus preserve the appearance that presented itself. The shroud 'had been fastened with a number of metal rings and points ; some of these were kept by the sculptor Fabrio of Rome, who is also in possession of casts from the skull and right hand. Passavant remarks, judging from the cast, that the skull was of a singularly fine form. The bones of the hand were all perfect. but they crumbled into dust after the mould was taken. The skeleton measured about five feet seven inches. The coffin was extremely narrow, indicating a very slender frame. The precious relics were ultimately restored to the same spot, after being placed in a magnificent sarcophagus, presented by the present Pope."-Quarterly Review.

Ay, there are glorious things even in the dust
Which still must ever from the human heart
Win homage next devotion. 'Tis in vain
To ask the wherefore, or demand what are they
Amid the keen realities of life?
Old coin, or broken casque, or fretted stone--
The waste of Time-the rack upon life's shore
Thrown up by the spent waves of centuries---
They have no meaning in the vulgar tongue ;
Their very uses know them not-things past
Into the chaos of forgotten forms.
But here the root of this deep error lies.
The world's deep Lethé onward blindly glides,
A perishable Present! glorious only
Because no Future and no Past are seen
To scare or shame its dreamy voyager.
In dull forgetfulness the error lies,
That hath no feeling of the mighty Past
Espoused to sense, and purblind as the mole
To all that meets the intellectual eye :
To such lona is a heap of stones,
And Marathon a desert.

O, how changed!
The meanest thing on which great Time hath set
His awful stamp (the long-surviving thought
Left by the mind of other days) appears

To knowledge and the gaze of memory,
More instantaneous than those words of power
Which ancient legends say the tomb obeyed-
The broken pillar, and the moss-grown pile,
Dilate into antique magnificence:
At once the stern old rampart crowns its height
The donjon keep, the tower of ancient pride,
The rock-built fortress of old robber kings,
Start into life, and from their portals pour
Mailed foray forth, or pomp of feudal war.
The temple swells from vacancy, o'erarching
With pillared roof, and dim solemnity,
The worship of old time. The dry bones live
Of ancient ages : monarch, sage, and bard,
Stand in their living lineaments, invested
With power, or wisdom, or the gift of song.
These still are common ruins-the remains
Of those who were the vulgar of their day,
Who battled, built, and traded, and so died,
Leaving no trace but nameless monuments,
The cast attire of ages, which but serve
To show the present how the past went mad,
And, like Cassandra, prophesy in vain.
The earth yet bears more glorious vestiges
Of Time's illustrious few, whose memory
Is greater than the greatest thing that lives-
llaloed by veneration, wonder, love-

tombs stand in life's calendar
Eras of thought once seen. Is there an eye
Could coldly gaze on aught that bears a trace
Of Avon's matchless master of the breast?
Who could approach old Dryburgh's tombs, and feel not
The illustrious presence of his great compeer,
Whose tomb yet moistens with a nation's woe,
Whose star is young in heaven? Or who can walk
Unmoved the cloisters and religious aisles
Where Milton lies, renowned with "prophets old,"
And honoured Newton, to whom the starred vault
Is an enduring monument, as much
As the Pantheon's dome is Angelo's ?
What is the pride of kings, the world's vain splendour,
To such a presence as they witnessed there
Who disinterred the bones of Raphael,
Awful from the repose of centuries ?
There stood that day a solemn, anxious crowd
Around that altar which conceals beneath
The mighty master's relics--for there was a doubt
If it were truly there that he was laid.
And there they found all the dull grave could keep
Of that Immortal. With no common awe
They bent o'er his dark cell, as it disclosed
Its treasure to the selfsarne holy light
That gladdened oft of old the master's heart,
And waked his heaven-eyed genius; while beneath
The shadowy splendour of that spacious dome
He stood in living sanctity, a pure
And heavenly-minded man-even where they stood
To gaze upon his dust--and all around
He scattered bright and hallowed images
Of perfect beauty_in their brightness there
Still lying as he left them. Shadows fair
Of angel form and feature-ye who gaze
In clouded splendour through those cloisters old,
Looking as things of life-could ye behold
Those slender bones, they were the living hand
Beneath whose touch ye started into being
And grew to light and beauty, covering
Your storied frescoes with the lines of grace,
Harmonious hues and features of the sky.
And yonder is your birthplace, yon light skull--
The slight and delicate shrine of all that mind!
'Tis a strange thought how vast a world revolved
In thy small compass ! Senseless as thou art,
Who could behold thee as a mouldering bone,
The mere dust of unsphered humanity ?
There, from that lowly cell as rose to light
The canonized remains of one whose mind
Hath been a worship to the eye of ages,
They were not seen thus coldly-time gave back
Its venerable honours registered
Deep in the heart of living Italy-

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A crown of many-tinted sanctities.

which divers cannot go, owing to the pressure of water on the Thy beauty, goodness, and pure innocence,

surface of their chests being greater than the resistance of Thy faculty of vision, gift divine,

air inside, respiration being thereby impeded. Rushed round thee as a glory--thou wert scen

A pipe a yard long, and acting on a yard square of fluid, With all thy laurels round thy honoured tomb.

will give a pressure equal to the weight of fifteen cwt. if we Thine is no pile of unrecording stone

use water. Should we use quicksilver, the power of a ton Pale marble column or tall pyramid,

weight may be obtained within the space of a square foot in That vainly robs oblivion of its prey:

breadth, by a tube somewhat less than three feet long, and Thy name lives on each lip—thy monuments

not larger than a common goose quill—the pressure per square Are treasures fondly kept midst precious things, inch in these cases depending on the height of the column of Sought out in every land which the sun warms

fluid. To nobler thoughts-thine are perennial wreaths

We can now understand what extensive and sometimes Of trophies yet surviving, when the fame

irremediable injury may arise from the collection of a small Of fields that rang through Europe, and made pale but lofty column of water, opening into a wide but confined The peaceful hamlets of an hundred realms,

space below. This sometimes occurs when water gets into a Have shrunk within the fretted register,

narrow chink between buildings, and, finding its way down, The silent scroll, named History--still the halls opens finally into some cavity under the floor. The pressure Of national state or regal pomp are bright

exerted here is immense, and there are few bodies able to With thy far-sought creations, costliest

resist it. It is owing to this that the pipes for conveying wa. Among the treasured trophies of the mind;

ter are burst, on account of the pressure exerted on the insides And as thy time on earth was consecrated

of the pipes ; and this occurs the more frequently, the higher To sacred labours meet for holy walls

the source from which they are filled. in practice, every So would I deem thy gifted spirit still,

vessel containing liquid should increase in strength in proporInvested in its light of heavenly thoughts,

tion to its depth. We have no doubt that a process similar The minister of some pure temple, where

to this takes place on the large scale in nature, which is capaNo human errors mingle with the work.

ble of uprooting trees, rending rocks, producing earthquakes ; for if we suppose that some collections of water on the surface

of a hill have found their way down through crevices into a ON THE POWER OF FLUIDS.

cavity in the body of the mountain which has no external That weight is a property of liquids, has been acknowledged opening, as long as this cavity remains unfilled no evil arises, by the earliest observers ; but the amount of that weight, its but when it and the crevices also are completely filled, the mode of acting, and application to practice, have been left for pressure exercised here is so immense, that even the sides of recent times to discover., A pint of water weighs somewhat the hill cannot withstand it. Perhaps this occurrence has more than a pound avoirdupois; and one unacquainted with not been sufficiently noticed in explaining natural phenomena. the facts in hydrostatics might deem it of little consequence It is usual to consider earthquakes and volcanoes as solely the what shape the vessel that contained it might be, or what the result of chemical action, excluding entirely physical agency. disposition and length of the column of water-for, after all, The pressure of water may be rendered 'vi-ible by blowing what is it but a pound of water? No idea can be more erroneous. through a tube under water into a tall glass jar. The bubole Under most circumstances, it is not so much the quantity of of air, small at the bottom, as it rises, gradually enlarges the fluid as the manner in which its particles are disposed, that from the diminution of the pressure. determines its weight; and what may appear still more extra- The hydrostatic bellows, formed upon this principle, consists ordinary, a small quantity of fluid may be made to balance, of nothing more than a water-tight bellows, with a long pipe that is, to be of the same apparent weight as, a very large fixed into the valve aperture. If this pipe be three feet long, quantity. This may be proved by taking a pair of scales, and hold a quarter of a pint of Auid, it will exert a pressure putting a tumbler full of water into one dish, and balancing sufficient to raise three cwt. laid upon a bellows, the area of it by weights in the other, then inverting a smaller glass and the upper side of which is equal to about a square foot and a immersing it in the tumbler, having the glass perfectly sup- half. Many are the uses to which this principle might be apported in the hand to prevent it touching the sides or bottom; plied in the several arts. å portion of the water will now flow over the sides of the tum- Bramah's Press is almost the only machine which has been bler-sayone-half-yet the scales are still balanced; one-half of extensively used. By its means solid bars of iron can be cut the water is of the same weight apparently as the whole. A piece through with ease. "Hay and cotton have been compressed of wood may be used instead of the glass with the same result, by its means into a very small compass. In the East Indies, and it may be of a size nearly to fill the cavity of the tumbler; where water-power is used, bales of cotton are compressed yet if the remaining water, which may amount to no more into one-half the size of those from the West Indies. By its than a couple of spoonfuls, rise to the same level as it did when means power may be multiplied, or rather concentrated, a full, it will exactly balance the weights. This cannot be ac- thousand-fold. Ås commonly made, a man working it may, counted for by saying that the wood or the glass was equal by using the same force that would raise half a cwt., apply to the water displaced, for if we use lead, which is much hea- a force amounting to twenty tons to the work in hand ; and vier, or cork, and even card, which are much lighter, we shall by varying the proportions of the machine, pressure might be meet with no difference. This property belongs to the water; brought to bear upon any body which would be perfectly irreand as the only constant fact was the same height of the fluid, sistible. to it must the explanation be referred; and we thus arrive at There is, however, in reality, be it distinctly understood, a first principle, a law in hydrostatics--that the pressure, or no power absolutely gained ; but the man's force is concena weight considered as a power, of any fluid, is not in propor- trated, as for instance in compressing the bale of cotton, to tion to its quantity, but to its depth.

an extent which, if the ordinary mechanical powers of the Aware of this principle, if we wish to use water as a power, lever or screw were employed, would require the aid of ponwe can economize it wonderfully, exerting a great pressure derous machinery. with a small quantity. If we take a small wooden box, water- Mr Bramah was therefore greatly mistaken when he pubtight, bore a hole in it, and fill it with water, adapt a long lished it as the discovery of a new mechanical power : but he narrow tube to the hole, and fill it up with water, the box will invented a beautiful and most effective means of simply accunow be burst, and that by the very small quantity contained mulating a prodigious force by the very simple means of the in the tube. This tube may be a yard long, and very nar. hydrostatic pressure of Auids. row in diameter, not holding more than two ounces of fluid, Hydraulic or Bramah presses are applied in New York yet the pressure, being always in proportion to its depth, is the and other American ports for the purpose of raising large same as if it had been as broad as the box. This pressure vessels on strong wooden platforms out of the water, for amounts to nearly one pound on the square inch for every two effecting repairs, &c. They are also employed in removing feet of water. In the deepest parts of the ocean the pressure houses--some of them brick, and three stories high-from one must be exceedingly great, so much so that it is probable they part of a street to another. In this case strong wooden are uninhabitable, the pressure being too great for the exist, beams, like the ways used in ship-launching, are placed under ence of fishes. This pressure, together with the total absence the house, and in ihe direction of the intended site, and hyof light at great depths, renders the existence of vegetable draulic presses are then employed for pushing the house life also a doubtful matter. There is a certain depth beyond | along, with prodigious force, and so gradually and gently as


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not even to crack the plaster of a room ceiling. By the same such a system will be a sturdy race of machines--delvers means the roof of a large cotton factory near Aberdeen was and soldiers, but not men : so much brute physical energy raised entire, and an additional story added to the building, swinging loosely through society at the discretion of those without displacing a single slate! In this instance the roof more spiritual natures to whom their education, neglected or was lifted gradually about four inches at a time, progressing perverted in another way, gives wickedness with power, and from end to end of the building, the height of the walls being teaches the secrets of mind only as instruments to crush or increased by a single row of bricks at a time.

bend men for their own selfish purposes. Others educate the Such are a few of the results of a single principle, a rule to intellectual and moral being only; the physical, once the buildwhich there is no exception, which holds equally good in the ing is raised, like an idle scaffolding, is cast by. But the organic as in the inorganic world. Even the blood vessels of omission is injurious—often fatal : malady is laid up, in all its the body are subject to this law-the sides of all vessels below thousand forms, in the infant and the child. It spreads out the level of the heart enduring an additional outward pressure upon the man. When his spirit is in the flush of its strength, of half an ounce for every inch in height, which at the toes and his moral rivals his intellectual nature in compass and would amount to somewhere about two pounds. When a power, then it is that the despised portion of his being rises person stands erect in a bath, the pressure on all parts of the up and avenges itself for this contempt. The studious man body is not equal; it is greater upon the legs than upon the feels, as he walks down life, a thousand minute retaliations trunk; the former are pressed upward, and hence in part the for the prodigal waste of his youthful vigour.

The body difficulty experienced in standing upon the bottom in deep bows down beneath the burden of the mind; it wears graduwater.

Τ. Α. ally away into weakness and incompetency; clouds of sick.

ness, pangs of pain, obscure, distort, weigh it to the earth. DISAGREEABLE PEOPLE.-Some persons are of so teazing Health is not a thing of organization only, but of training ; and fidgetty a turn of mind, that they do not give you a mo- it is to be laid up bit by bit. We are to be made healthy ment's rest. Everything goes wrong with them. They com- tutored and practised into health. Omit health in favour of plain of a headache or the weather. They take up a book, the intellectual and moral faculties, and you provide instruand lay it down again-venture an opinion, and retract it be- ments, it is true, for mind, but instruments which, when fore they have half done—offer to serve you, and prevent some wanted, cannot be used. Intellectual and moral education one else from doing it. If you dine with them at a tavern, in may rank before physical, but they are not more essential; order to be more at your ease, the fish is too little done-the the physical powers are the hewers of wood and the drawers sauce is not the right one; they ask for a sort of wine which of water for the spiritual. The base of the column is in the they think is not to be had, or if it is, after some trouble, pro- earth; but, without it, neither could the shaft stand firm cured, do not touch it; they give the waiter fifty contradic- above it, nor the capital ascend to the sky.--Wyse on Educatory orders, and are restless and sit on thorns the whole of tion. dinner time. All this is owing to a want of robust health, and HOME.— The great end of prudence is to give cheerfulness of a strong spirit of enjoyment; it is a fastidious habit of to those hours which splendour cannot gild, and acclamation mind, produced by a valetudinary habit of body : they are out cannot exhilarate. Those soft intervals of unbended amuseof sorts with everything, and of course their ill-humour and ment, in which a man shrinks to his natural dimensions, and captiousness communicates itself to you, who are as little de- throws aside the ornaments or disguises which he feels in priliglated with them as they are with other things. Another vacy to be useless incumbrances, and to lose all effect when sort of people, equally objectionable with this helpless class, they become familiar. To be happy at home is the ultimate who are disconcerted by a shower of heaven's rain, or stopped result of all ambition, the end to which every enterprise and by an insect's wing, are those who, in the opposite spirit, will labour tends, and of which every desire prompts the prosehave everything their own way, and carry all before them-cution. It is indeed at home that every man must be known who cannot brook the slightest shadow of opposition—who are by those who would make a just estimate of his virtue or fealivays in the heat of an argument, unless where they disdain licity; for smiles and embroidery are alike occasional, and your understanding so much as not to condescend to argue the mind is often dressed for show in painted honour and ficwith you—who knit their brows and roll their eyes and clench titious benevolence.-Johnson, their teeth in some speculative discussion, as if they were en- If it were enacted that only persons of high rank should gaged in a personal quarrel—and who, though successful over dine upon three dishes, the lower sort would desire to have almost every competitor, seem still to resent the very offer of three ; but if commoners were permitted to have as many resistance to their supposed authority, and are as angry as if dishes as they pleased, whilst the nobility were limited to two, they had sustained some premeditated injury. There is an the inferior sort would not exceed that number. An order to impatience of temper and an intolerance of opinion in this that abolish the wearing of jewels has set a whole country in an conciliates neither our affection nor esteem. To such persons uproar ; but if the order had only prohibited earings to ladies nothing appears of any moment but the indulgence of a domi- of the first quality, other women would not have desired to neering intellectual superiority, to the disregard and discom- wear them. The Reflector. fiture of their own and everybody else's comfort. Mounted The very consciousness of being beloved by the object of on an abstract proposition, they trample on every courtesy our attachment, will disarm of its terrors even death itself.and decency of behaviour ; and though, perhaps, they do not D'Israeli. intend the gross personalities they are guilty of, yet they can- The petty sovereign of an insignificant tribe of North Amenot be acquitted of a want of due consideration for others, rica every inorning stalks out of his hovel, bids the sun good and of an intolerable egotism in the support of truth and jus- morrow, and points out to him with his finger the course he tice. You may hear one of these impetuous declaimers plead- is to take for the day. ing the cause of humanity in a voice of thunder, or expatiat- Love labour ; if you do not want it for food, you may for ing on the beauty of a Guido, with features distorted with rage physic. and scorn. This is not a very amiable or edifying spectacle. Industry often prevents what lazy folly thinks inevitable. -Hazlitt's Table-Talk.

Industry argues an ingenuous, great, and generous disposiNECESSITY OF A THOROUGH EDUCATION.-Good education of soul, by unweariedly pursuing things in the fairest light, tion being a preparation for social life, necessarily embraces and disdains to enjoy the fruit of other men's labours with the whole man—body, head, and heart—for in social life the out deserving it. whole man is necessarily called into exertion in one way or He who lies under the dominion of any one vice must expect another almost every hour. But this is not sufficient. There the common effects of it. If lazy, to be poor ; if intemperate, must be no preponderance, as well as no exclusion: a limited to be diseased ; if luxurious, to die betimes, &c. or biassed education produces monsters. Some are satisfied With discretion the vicious preserve their honour, and withwith the cultivation of a single faculty—some with the par- out it the virtuous lose it. tial cultivation of each. A child is trained up to working ; A good conscience is the finest opiate.-Knox. he is hammered into a hardy labourer-a stout material for the physical bone and muscle of the state. This is good, so far as it goes; but it is bad, because it goes no farther. He

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of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane, College Green, not taught reading; he is not taught religion; above all, Agents :--R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley, Paternoster Row, London ; he is not taught thinking. He never looks into his other self; Simms and DINHAM, Exchange Street, Manchester ; C. Davies, North he soon forgets its existence; the man becomes all body; his

John Street, Liverpool; J. DRAKE, Birmingham ; SLOCOMBE & SIMMS,

FRAZER and CRAWFORD, George Street, Edinburgh ; and intellectual and moral being lies fallow. The growth of DAVID ROBERTSOX, Trongate, Glasgow.

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