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<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76752 ***</div>
<div>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>
<h1 class='c000' title='The Penny Magazine, May 12, 1832'>THE PENNY MAGAZINE</h1>
</div>
<div class='nf-center-c1'>
<div class='nf-center c001'>
<div><span class='small'>OF THE</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='nf-center-c1'>
<div class='nf-center c001'>
<div><span class='large'>Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<hr class="full">
<div class="masthead">
<div class="masthead-right">[<span class='sc'>May</span> 12, 1832</div>
<div class="masthead-left">7.]</div>
<div class="masthead-centre">PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.</div>
<hr class="full">
</div>
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. PAUL’S.</h2>
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<div class='illo-wide'>
<div class='figcenter id001'>
<a href='images/st-pauls-full.jpg'><img src='images/st-pauls-inline.png' alt='' class='ig001'></a>
<div class='ic001'>
<p>[Old St. Paul’s Cathedral—South View.]</p>
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<p class='c003'>The elevated situation of the spot on which St. Paul’s
is built, seems to have pointed it out from very ancient
times for religious or other public purposes. Without
adopting the very doubtful opinion of some antiquaries,
that the Romans during their occupation of the
island had erected a temple to Diana upon this eminence—an
opinion which has not even the support of
tradition, and which Sir Christopher Wren, when he
dug the foundations of the present church, became convinced
had no other support—it seems to be clear that
these foreigners used it for a cemetery or burial place,
if not for anything more sacred. On the erection of
the present building many Roman funeral vases, lacrymatories,
and other articles used in sepulture, were
found at a considerable depth under the surface. Next
to these lay in rows skeletons of the ancient Britons;
and immediately above them, Saxons in stone coffins,
or in graves lined with chalk, together with pins of ivory
and box wood which had fastened their grave clothes.
The earliest building which is actually recorded to have
stood on this site was a Christian church, built about
the year 610, by Ethelbert, King of Kent, the first of
the Saxon princes who was converted by St. Augustine.
It was dedicated to St. Paul, and the old historians tell
us was indebted for the latest improvements which it
received to the liberality of St. Erkenwald, the bishop
of the diocese, who died in 681. However, it could
scarcely have been a very magnificent or extensive edifice,
if it be true, as is related, that upon its being accidentally
burned down in 961, it was rebuilt the same
year. After this it was again destroyed by fire in the
year 1087; when the Norman bishop, Maurice, who
had just been appointed to the see, resolved to undertake
its restoration, on a much larger and more splendid
scale, at his own expense. Both he and his successor
De Belmeis, each of whom presided twenty years
over the diocese, are said to have devoted all their revenues
to this great work; but it was not finished till
the time of Bishop Niger, the fourth after De Belmeis,
in the year 1240. In 1135, indeed, the uncompleted
building had again caught fire, and been nearly burned
to the ground. When the fabric, which might thus be
called ancient, even while it was yet new, at last stood
ready for consecration, it exhibited a mass 690 feet in
length by 130 in breadth, surmounted by a spire 520
feet in height. Some additions, which were made to it
after this, were not completed till 1315, in the reign of
Edward II., the ninth king after him in whose reign
the first stone of the pile had been laid.</p>
<p class='c004'>This was the building we now call old St. Paul’s, the
immediate predecessor of the present cathedral. It was
one of the largest edifices in the world, and in its best
days, before it was deformed by the successive repairs
to which it was subjected, and the various foreign incumbrances
under which it was long buried, it was no
doubt a grand and imposing structure. But, from the
causes we have mentioned, its form in the course of
time underwent so many changes that at last it presented
the appearance of little else than a heap of incongruity
and confusion. The spire was of timber;
but in 1315 it was found to be so much decayed that
the upper part of it had to be taken down and replaced.
It was upon this occasion that a ball, surmounted by a
cross, was first fixed upon the termination of the spire.</p>
<p class='c004'>The first accident which befel the church was the
consequence of a violent tempest of thunder and wind
which burst over the metropolis on the 1st of February,
1444. The lightning having struck the spire set it on
fire; and although a priest succeeded in extinguishing
the flames, a good deal of damage was done, so that it
was not till the year 1462 that the gilded ball with the
cross again made its appearance on the summit of the
building. A much more serious disaster than this,
however, happened about a century afterwards. On the
4th of June, 1561, a plumber who was employed in
making some repairs, thoughtlessly left a pan of coals
burning within the spire while he went to dinner; the
flames from which caught the adjacent wooden work,
and in no long time set the whole building in a blaze.
In spite of every thing that could be done, the conflagration
continued to rage till it had consumed every
thing about the church that was combustible, and reduced
it to a mere skeleton of bare and blackened walls.</p>
<p class='c004'>With such ardour, however, did the Queen (Elizabeth),
and, it may be said indeed, the whole nation, promote
the scheme of restoring the sacred edifice, all ranks contributing
to the pious and patriotic work, that in the space of
about five years it was again opened for worship. But
it never recovered its ancient splendour: the spire, in
particular, was not rebuilt at all; and from the shortness
<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>of the time spent in the restoration altogether, it is
probable that other parts of the work were hurried over
without much attention either to strength or beauty.
By the end of the reign of Elizabeth accordingly, the
structure had fallen into sad decay; so that it was
found in 1608 that it could not be repaired under a cost
of considerably more than twenty thousand pounds. It
was not, however, till 1633, in the reign of Charles I.,
that the repairs were actually begun, the interval having
been spent in attempts to collect the necessary funds by
subscription. Meanwhile the cathedral was every year
becoming more ruinous. The money subscribed at last
amounted to above a hundred thousand pounds, and
then the celebrated Inigo Jones having been appointed
to superintend the work, it was, as we have said, proceeded
with.</p>
<p class='c004'>We shall now mention some particulars to show the
extraordinary state of neglect and ruin into which this
once proud edifice had been by this time allowed to fall.
Towards the close of the sixteenth century it is stated,
that the benches at the door of the choir were commonly
used by beggars and drunkards for sleeping on, and
that a large dunghill lay within one of the doors of the
church. The place indeed was the common resort of
idlers of all descriptions, who used to walk about in the
most irreverent manner with their hats on even during
the performance of divine service. More than twenty
private houses were built against the walls of the church,
the owners of several of which had cut closets out of the
sacred edifice, while in other instances doors had been
made into the vaults which were converted into cellars.
At one of the visitations the verger presented that “the
shrouds and cloisters under the convocation-house are
made a common lay-stall for boards, trunks, and chests,
being let out unto trunk-makers; where, by means of
their daily knocking and noise, the church is greatly
disturbed.” One house, partly formed of the church, is
stated to have been “lately used as a play-house;” the
owner of another, which was built upon the foundation
of the church, had contrived a way through a window
into a part of the steeple, which he had turned into a
ware-room; and a third person had excavated an oven
in one of the buttresses, in which he baked his bread
and pies.</p>
<p class='c004'>The first thing which Jones did was to clear away
these obstructions, after which the work of restoration
proceeded slowly but with tolerable regularity till the
commencement of the civil wars in 1642. In 1643, not
only all the revenues of the cathedral, but the funds which
had been collected for repairing it, together with all the
unused building materials, were seized by the Parliament.
The scaffolding was given to the soldiers of
Colonel Jephson’s regiment for arrears of pay; on which,
no man hindering them, they dug pits in the middle
of the church to saw the timber in. Another part of
the building was converted into a barrack for dragoons
and a stable. Public worship, nevertheless, was still
celebrated in the east end and a part of the choir,
which was separated from the rest by a brick wall, the
congregation entering through one of the north windows
which was converted into a door. At the west end
Inigo Jones had erected a portico of great beauty, consisting
of fourteen columns, each rising to the lofty
height of forty-six feet, and the whole supporting an
entablature crowned with statues. These statues were
thrown down and broken in pieces; and shops were
built within the portico, in which commodities of all sorts
were sold. The wood-cut, at the head of this article,
represents the cathedral as it was drawn by Hollar in
1656.</p>
<p class='c004'>In this state things continued till the restoration.
Soon after that event, the repairing of St. Paul’s again
engaged the thoughts of the king and the public; and
subscriptions to a considerable amount having been
once more obtained, the work was recommenced on the
1st of August, 1663. Three years afterwards, however,
(in September, 1666,) before it had been nearly
completed, the great fire, which consumed half the
metropolis, seized in its progress westward upon the
scaffolding by which the cathedral was surrounded, and
after an awful conflagration, left it a mere mass of ruins.
History has recorded no finer instance of national spirit
than the noble courage and alacrity with which the
citizens of London, and the English government,
and people generally, rose from this terrible calamity
and applied themselves to restore all that it had destroyed.
In the plans which were immediately taken
into consideration for rebuilding the city, St. Paul’s
was not forgotten. Sir Christopher Wren, who had
been employed in superintending the previous repairs,
was ordered to examine and report upon the state in
which the foundations of the building were, and so much
of the walls as was left standing. At first it was
thought that a considerable portion of the old church
might still be found available; but this idea was eventually
given up; and on the 21st of June, 1675, the
foundation-stone of the present building was laid.
From this time the work proceeded without interruption
till its completion in 1710. The same great architect,
Sir Christopher Wren, presided over and directed
the work from its commencement to its close. For
this, all that he received was £200 a-year; and the
commissioners had even the spite and meanness, after
the building was considerably advanced, to suspend the
payment of one half of this pittance till the edifice should
be finished, under the pretence of thereby better securing
the diligence and expedition of the architect. In fact, it
was with no small difficulty that Sir Christopher at last
got his money at all. The whole expense of rebuilding
the cathedral was £736,000, which was raised almost
entirely by a small tax on coals. The church of St.
Peter’s at Rome, which is indeed a building of greater
dimensions, but to which St. Paul’s ranks next even in
that respect among the sacred edifices of Christendom,
took one hundred and forty-five years to build, was the
work of twelve successive architects, and exhausted the
revenues of nineteen successive popes. It is worthy of
remark, that St. Paul’s was begun and completed not
only by one architect, and one master mason, Mr.
Thomas Strong, but also while one bishop, Dr. Henry
Compton, presided over the diocese.</p>
<div class='c005'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>AN EMIGRANT’S STRUGGLES.</h2>
</div>
<div class='subtitle'>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
<div>[Concluded from No. 6.]</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c004'>When we set out upon our expedition, which I
have just mentioned, we had two servants with us,
and as many dogs. One man carried some biscuits;
another a bottle of rum, a piece of beef, and a little tea
and sugar, with a couple of tea-pots. Immediately behind
my house there is a fine long hill, rising, with an
easy slope, to the height of five hundred or six hundred
feet, and covered, like the country in general, with trees
and grass. It has been the practice to allow proprietors of
cattle and sheep to graze on the unlocated parts, which
they were obliged to quit on settlers coming to occupy the
ground. These herds were generally left in the care of
one or two men, while the proprietor lived in Hobart
Town; the consequence of which was, that the cattle
were allowed to stray wherever they chose, and became
altogether wild. This was the case where I have
settled; and although the herdsmen have removed
themselves to their assigned limits, the cattle are still
on my ground, and have been the cause of my
suffering one of the most serious inconveniences which
can befal a settler. For I had scarcely arrived on
my land when my working bullocks got into the wild
herd, with which they continue until this day. This
<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>has completely baulked my agricultural projects, obliging
me to perform by manual labour what the beasts of the
field should have done for me. But I am again digressing,
and tiring you with my misfortunes, instead
of giving you an account of our journey. As we approached
the river Ouse we found its banks had been
lately burnt by the natives, and the grass and smaller
trees were completely consumed. After some search
we found a place which we ventured to wade, but it
was with great difficulty we could keep our feet. Sometimes
the dogs would kill a kangaroo, and as we had not
time or opportunity to make use of it, the huge crows,
which abound in the woods, soon hovered over the carcase
in great numbers. These crows are of the same
genus as your English ones, but of a different species.
They are very large, and distinguished by a white ring
round the eye: they have even more cunning than their
brethren of the old world. The banks on the further
side of the Ouse are yet steeper than on this. We continued
to ascend over the burnt ground, and underneath
huge trees, for about five miles, till we arrived at the
stock-keeper’s hut, which we discovered by the help of
the track of horses. Here we found eight men, who
had been sent up a few days before to erect a hut and
stackyard for the cattle. They had sheltered themselves
by branches of trees, and burnt a large fire in front.
They had chosen a spot beside a small spring of water,
in the midst of a large valley, which was almost clear of
trees. After making some kangaroo soup we again
set out, and bending our course more to the north, so as
to keep near the river, we arrived at sun-set on the border
of a beautiful lake. It appeared about seven miles
long, and proportionably broad, with two lofty islands
in the midst of it. The water was very soft and clear;
its bed seemed to be composed of fine sand, and very
shallow. Having formed our encampment near its
brink, and lighted three very large fires to keep ourselves
warm, we commenced making tea. One of the
party fired a shot over its surface; the discharge was
succeeded by a long and lasting peal like thunder,
which had a sublime effect. We therefore named this
piece of water Lake Echo. We were now on very high
ground, and seemed to overlook all the mountains
around us. In the morning, at peep of day, we took
leave of this enchanting scene, which we had admired
at the two periods most favourable to the display of its
beauty with the rising and the setting sun. The surface
remained as even as glass, and the shadows of its banks
and islands gave a soft serenity to the landscape. A
fine open valley led us down to the river, but we traversed
it with difficulty, for during the wet season
the water had so lodged in it that it was now full of
holes, and we were never sure of a step. We passed
many recent encampments of the natives, and saw their
fires at a little distance. As we approached the river
the dog started a large kangaroo, and hunted it down
on the plain. This was a seasonable supply. We immediately
commenced cooking; cutting off some steaks,
we strung them on a stick, and set them before the
fire; when one side was done we turned the other;—this
is what they call a <i>sticker-up</i>, and our manner of cooking
them is called <i>bush-fashion</i>. The slang nomenclature
which the convicts have imposed on this land is in many
instances unpleasant and vulgar, but sometimes appropriate.
Having made a comfortable meal we again crossed
the Ouse, but with still greater difficulty than we had
encountered the day before. The immediate space between
the rivers is here still more mountainous than behind
my house, and is covered with large rugged stones,
and fine lofty trees. We passed several encampments
of the natives. Pursuing our way, we soon came to the
Shannon, which we crossed, as the eastern side afforded
the best walking. Here we entered on an extensive plain,
but so rough, and so obstructed with rushes, as to render
our passage through it quite laborious. In one part we
struck a light, and the wind blowing with great keenness,
the grass blazed up in a few minutes, the flame
extending for nearly half a mile. Our provisions were
now quite exhausted, and we had to recreate ourselves
with tea, and chat beside a beautiful cascade on the
river. In these high regions we found several maple
trees, with sweet unctuous juice exuding from the bark.
You can hardly form an idea of the beauty of the
heavens, as the vault appeared to the eye, while we
reposed on a kangaroo rug on the grass, beside a large
fire which illumined the trees, and with a fine sweep of
the river winding its way before us, and reflecting the
silvery beams of the moon. Next morning, after walking
three or four miles, we killed a kangaroo, and fared
sumptuously on a <i>sticker-up</i>. Thus refreshed, we descended
towards home. We had explored in this journey
a region which no European had ever seen before, and
had ascended to some of the highest ground in the
island. I should calculate my habitation to be nearly
two thousand feet above the level of the sea, and I
think we ascended as much more. You may suppose
what romantic rapids and cascades occur in the course
of a river which falls that height in the course of thirty
miles. Just before my door I have a broad placid
stream resembling a lake, over which I have made a
flying bridge, by means of a rope and the elm-tree case
of my wife’s piano, which answers the purpose so well
that I brought over seven hundred sheep belonging to
Mrs. Smith, the other day, by twenty at a time. I am
completely at my own command, for if a visitor comes
he must hail on the opposite side before I slacken my
rope, and allow him to pull the boat over.</p>
<p class='c004'>We have no fish in these rivers, excepting some fresh
water craw-fish, such as are found in the Thames, some
eels, and a small thing not worth catching. We sometimes,
however, shoot a wild duck or a widgeon, which
are both large and good. We have also a kind of
pigeon, which is very fine eating, and many other smaller
birds, besides cockatoos innumerable, both black and
white, and some beautiful parrots and paroquets. But
the bird which chiefly enlivens the grove is a species of
magpie, which sings two regular bars of music, of the
clearest and sweetest notes you can imagine. On
taking possession of my grant, my plan was to build a
rough hut for my servants, which I should inhabit
whilst a better one was erecting for myself, but the loss
of my bullocks made me fain to make the best of my first
habitation. It is entirely built of the materials on the
ground, excepting the nails, which came from England,
and the window-frames, which were made in Hobart
Town. The walls are composed of logs or planks split
out of the trees, of about a foot broad, and two or three
inches thick. These are sunk two feet in the ground,
and nailed to a beam at the top; they are then plastered
over with a mixture composed of sand, clay, and
grass cut short, and the wall is complete. The roof is
covered with shingles, which are also split out of the trees
round the house, and have exactly the appearance of
slates. I have not yet been able to make a floor, we
therefore walk at present upon the bare earth. As I cannot
afford to buy another set of bullocks (for they cost
87<i>l.</i>) I must wait patiently till I recover them when the
wild herds are got in. This of course throws me into
great difficulties. I have, however, upwards of one
hundred sheep, two cows, and three or four young ones,
a goat, and a pig, besides eight hens. These last thrive
amazingly, chiefly owing to the number of grasshoppers
which they eat.</p>
<p class='c004'>I have just heard of an opportunity to send off a
letter, and I therefore hasten to a conclusion. It is
strange, when I reflect upon it, that any vicissitudes of
life should have induced me voluntarily to undergo
separation from my friends; to desert their company for
<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>a wild and enthusiastic scheme of emigration. Much
however as I feel the deprivation of such society, I must
say that I do not yet regret my coming to this country.
When I consider that the people around me have mostly
been convicted of heinous offences in England, I am
pleased at the security we enjoy. You will, I know,
rejoice to hear that I and my family are in good health;
and that though so remote, I am as near to you in the
alliance of friendship as ever.</p>
<div class='c005'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>THE LOBSTER.</h2>
</div>
<div class='illo-wide'>
<div class='figcenter id001'>
<a href='images/the-lobster-full.jpg'><img src='images/the-lobster-inline.png' alt='A lobster, viewed from above.' class='ig001'></a>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c003'>Amongst the numerous examples given by Dr. Paley,
of the wonderful manner in which Nature contrives to
overcome difficulties, which would at first appear insurmountable,
there is perhaps none more striking than the
mode in which the lobster is released from his case
when the increasing size of his body requires more
room. In most animals the skin grows with their
growth. In some animals, instead of a soft skin, there
is a shell, which admits by its form of gradual enlargement.
Thus the shell of the tortoise, which consists of
several pieces, is gradually enlarged at the joinings of
those pieces which are called “sutures.” Shells with
two sides, like those of the muscle, grow bigger by addition
at the edge. Spiral shells, as those of the snail,
receive this addition at their mouth. The simplicity of
their form admits of this; but the lobster’s shell being
applied to the limbs of his body, as well as to the body
itself, does not admit of either of the modes of enlargement
which is observed in other shells. It is so hard
that it cannot expand or stretch, and it is so complicated
in its form that it does not admit of being enlarged by
adding to its edge. How, then, was the growth of the
lobster to be provided for? We have seen that room
could not be made for him in his old shell: was he then
to be annually fitted with a new one? If so, another
difficulty arises: how was he to get out of his present
confinement? How was he to open his hard coat, or draw
his legs out of his boots which are become too tight for
him? The works of the Deity are known by expedients,
and the provisions of his power extend to the most desperate
cases. The case of the lobster is thus provided
for: At certain seasons his shell grows soft. The animal
swells his body; the seams open, and the claws
burst at the joints. When the shell is thus become
loose upon the body, the animal makes a second effort,
and by a trembling motion, a sort of spasm, casts off
his case. In this state of nakedness the poor defenceless
fish retires to a hole in the rocks. The released
body makes a sudden growth. In about eight and forty
hours a fresh concretion of humour takes place all over
the surface of his body; it quickly hardens; and thus a
new shell is formed, fitted in every part to the increased
size of the body and limbs of the animal. This wonderful
change takes place every year.</p>
<div class='c005'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>MATERNAL CARE OF THE EARWIG.</h2>
</div>
<p class='c003'>In ‘Insect Transformations,’ (p. 102,) it is mentioned
that the distinguished Swedish naturalist, Baron De
Geer, “discovered a female earwig in the beginning of
April under some stones, brooding over a number of
eggs, of whose safety she appeared to be not a little
jealous. In order to study her proceedings the better,
he placed her in a nurse-box, filled with fresh earth,
and scattered the eggs in at random. She was not long,
however, in collecting them with all care into one spot,
carrying them one by one in her mandibles, and placing
herself over them. She never left them for a moment,
sitting as assiduously as a bird does while hatching. In
about five or six weeks the grubs were hatched, and
were then of a whitish colour.”</p>
<p class='c004'>These observations the author of ‘Insect Transformations’
has just had an opportunity of verifying and extending,
and has communicated to us the following
interesting facts:—</p>
<p class='c004'>“About the end of March, I found an earwig brooding
over her eggs in a small cell scooped out in a
garden border; and in order to observe her proceedings
I removed the eggs into my study, placing them upon
fresh earth under a bell glass. The careful mother soon
scooped out a fresh cell, and collected the scattered eggs
with great care to the little nest, placing herself over
them, not so much, as it afterwards appeared, to keep
them warm as to prevent too rapid evaporation of their
moisture. When the earth began to dry up, she dug
the cell gradually deeper, till at length she got almost out
of view; and whenever the interior became too dry, she
withdrew the eggs from the cell altogether, and placed
them round the rim of the glass where some of the evaporated
moisture had condensed. Upon observing this, I
dropped some water into the abandoned cell, and the
mother soon afterwards replaced her eggs there. When
the water which had dropped had nearly evaporated, I
moistened the outside of the earth opposite the bottom of
the cell; and the mother perceiving this, actually dug a
gallery right through to the spot where she found the
best supply of moisture. Having neglected to moisten
the earth for some days, it again became dry, and there
was none even round the rim of the glass as before.
Under these circumstances, the mother earwig found a
little remaining moisture quite under the clod of earth
upon the board of the mantel-piece, and thither she forthwith
carried her eggs.</p>
<p class='c004'>“Her subsequent proceedings were not less interesting;
for though I carefully moistened the earth every day, she
regularly changed the situation of the eggs morning and
evening, placing them in the original cell at night, and
on the board under the clod during the day; as if she
understood the evaporation to be so great when the sun
was up that her eggs might be left too dry before night.</p>
<p class='c004'>“I regret to add, that during my absence the glass
had been moved, and the mother escaped, having carried
away all her eggs but one or two, which soon shrivelled
up and will of course prove abortive.”</p>
<div class='c005'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>THE WEEK.</h2>
</div>
<p class='c003'>May 14.—This is the birth-day of <span class='sc'>Gabriel Daniel
Fahrenheit</span>, usually regarded as the inventor of the common
mercurial thermometer, and certainly the first person
by whom the instrument was accurately constructed.
Fahrenheit was born at Dantzic, in 1686. His business
was that of a merchant, but he was fond of spending his
leisure in philosophical inquiries and experiments; and
at last he settled at Amsterdam, and devoted himself
almost entirely to the fabrication of the instrument which
bears his name, and which still continues to be the thermometer
principally used in Britain, North America, and
Holland. He is supposed to have begun to make these
thermometers about the year 1720, and he died in
<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>1736. It was Fahrenheit, also, who first noticed the
fact that water boils at different degrees of temperature,
according to the weight of the atmospheric column resting
upon it—that it requires, for instance, less heat to
make it boil on the summit than at the foot of a high
mountain. We shall, in some future number, explain
the construction and principle of the thermometer. In
the mean time we extract from ‘the Companion to the
Almanac’ for 1830, a comparison of the various scales
of the thermometer which are in general use:—</p>
<p class='c004'>“A fertile cause of error in estimating and comparing
the statements of temperature, is the very different manner
in which they are recorded by scientific men of different
nations. Wherever the English language prevails, the
graduation of <i>Fahrenheit</i> is generally preferred. By
the German authors, Römer (Reaumur) is used; and
the French have, within a few years, decided to adopt
that of Celsius, a Swedish philosopher, calling it ‘<i>Thermomètre
Centigrade</i>.’ To diminish this evil, in some
degree, the annexed diagram has been constructed, which
shows by inspection, the expression of any point of temperature
in the degrees of either or of all the above-mentioned
scales; and the comparison of any degree of
one with the equivalent degrees of the others.”</p>
<div class='illo-wide'>
<div class='figcenter id001'>
<a href='images/the-week-full.jpg'><img src='images/the-week-inline.png' alt='A thermometer, with markings for the Reaumur, Fahrenheit, and Celsius scales. The following temperatures are marked, most with degrees Fahrenheit: Highest Temp. Sun’s rays at London, 134°; Highest Temp. of the Air at ditto, 90°; Mean Temp. of ditto at ditto, 49 and a half°; Lowest Temp. of ditto at ditto, 11°; Ditto at the Earth’s surface at ditto, 5°; Greatest cold observed in the shade in England; Boiling point of water; Boiling point of alcohol, 174° (both at 30 inches barometric pressure); melting points of beeswax (142°) and tallow (127°); Fever heat as usually marked; Fever heat in general, 107°; Blood heat; Summer heat; Temperate; Usual Temp. of Spring water, 50°; Water freezes; Strong wine freezes, 20°.' class='ig001'></a>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c004'>May 16.—On this day, in the year 1623, was born at
Rumsey, in Hampshire, the celebrated Sir <span class='sc'>William
Petty</span>, a memorable and animating example of the elevation
and distinction which real talent, accompanied by
activity and perseverance, has always in this country
been able to command for its possessor. Petty’s father
was a clothier, and he appears to have given his son
little to set out in life with but a good education. It is
said that Petty, when quite a boy, took great delight in
spending his time among smiths, carpenters, and other
artificers, so that at twelve years old he knew how to
work at their trades. He made so great progress at the
grammar-school, that at fifteen he had made himself
master of French, Latin, and Greek, and understood
something of mathematics and physical science. On
entering the world, he went to Caen in Normandy with a
little stock of merchandize, which he there improved;
and on his return to England, having obtained some employment
connected with the navy, he managed to save
about sixty pounds before he was twenty years of age;
and with this sum he repaired to the Continent, to study
medicine at the foreign universities. He accordingly
attended the requisite classes successively at Leyden,
Utrecht, and Paris; and in about three years came home
well qualified to commence practising as a physician.
Having taken up his residence in this capacity at Oxford,
he soon acquired for himself a distinguished reputation,
and, young as he was, was appointed assistant
professor of anatomy in the University. He had already
also become known in the scientific world by some mechanical
inventions of considerable ingenuity; and he
was one of the club of inquirers who, about the year
1649, began to assemble weekly at Oxford, for philosophical
investigations and experiments, and out of whose
meetings eventually arose the present Royal Society.
Indeed, Dr. Wallis, one of the members, in a letter, in
which he has given an account of the association, tells
us that their meetings were first held “at Dr. Petty’s
lodgings, in an apothecary’s house, because of the convenience
of inspecting drugs, and the like, as there was
occasion.” Petty’s reputation, however, rose so rapidly
that, after having succeeded first to the professorship
of anatomy in the University, and then to that of music
in Gresham College, he was, in 1652, appointed physician
to the forces in Ireland. This carried him over
to that country—and eventually introduced him to a new
career. In 1655 we find him appointed secretary to the
Lord Lieutenant, and three years afterwards a member
of the House of Commons. He was, however, soon
after removed from his public employments by the Parliament
which met after the death of the Protector. On
the Restoration, which took place the following year, he
was made a commissioner of the Court of Claims.
The remainder of his life was as busy as the portion of
it already passed had been; but we have no room to
enumerate the books he wrote, the ingenious schemes
and inventions with which his mind was constantly teeming,
and the lucrative speculations in mining, the manufacture
of iron, and various other great undertakings,
in which he engaged. Suffice it to say, that, after accumulating
a large property, he died in London, on the
16th of December, 1687, full of honours, if not of
years. The first Marquis of Lansdowne (the father
of the present Marquis) was the great-grandson of Sir
William Petty.</p>
<div class='c005'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>THE VALUE OF A PENNY.</h2>
</div>
<p class='c003'>It is an old saying, that “a pin a day is a groat a year,”
by which homely expression some wise man has intended
to teach thoughtless people the value of small
savings. We shall endeavour to show <a id='tn-valueof'></a>the value of a
somewhat higher article, though a much despised one,—we
mean a penny.</p>
<p class='c004'>Pennies, like minutes, are often thrown away because
people do not know what to do with them. Those who
are economists of time, and all the great men on record
have been so, take care of the minutes, for they know
that a few minutes well applied each day will make
hours in the course of a week, and days in the course
<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>of a year; and in the course of a long life they will make
enough of time, if well employed, in which a man may
by perseverance have accomplished some work, useful
to his fellow-creatures, and honourable to himself.</p>
<p class='c004'>Large fortunes, when gained honestly, are rarely acquired
in any other way than by small savings at first;
and savings can only be made by habits of industry
and temperance. A saving man, therefore, while he is
adding to the general stock of wealth, is setting an example
of those virtues on which the very existence and
happiness of society depend. There are saving people
who are misers, and have no one good quality for which
we can like them. These are not the kind of people of
whom we are speaking; but we may remark that a
miser, though a disagreeable fellow while alive, is a very
useful person when dead. He has been compared to a
tree, which, while it is growing, can be applied to no
use, but at last furnishes timber for houses and domestic
utensils. But a miser is infinitely more useful than a
spendthrift, a mere consumer and waster, who, after he
has spent all his own money, tries to spend that of other
people.</p>
<p class='c004'>Suppose a young man, just beginning to work for himself,
could save one penny a day; and we believe there
are few unmarried young workmen who could not do
this. At the end of a year he would have 1<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i> 5<i>d.</i>,
which he could safely deposit in a savings’ bank, where
it would lie safely, with some small addition for interest,
till he might want it. After five years’ savings, at the
rate of a penny a day, he would have between 8 and 9<i>l.</i>,
which it is very possible he might find some opportunity
of laying out to such advantage as to establish the foundation
of his future fortune. Who has not had the
opportunity of feeling some time in his life how advantageously
he could have laid out such a sum of money,
and how readily such a sum might have been saved by
keeping all the pennies and sixpences that had been
thrown away? Such a sum as 8 or 9<i>l.</i> would enable
a man to emigrate to Canada, where he might, by persevering
industry, acquire enough to purchase a piece of
land; and, if blessed with moderate length of life, he
might be the happy cultivator of his own estate.</p>
<p class='c004'>Eight pounds would enable a mechanic, who had acquired
a good character for sobriety and skill, to furnish
himself on credit with goods and tools to five or six
times the amount of his capital; and this might form the
foundation of his future fortune.</p>
<p class='c004'>It often happens that a clever and industrious man
may have the opportunity of bettering his condition by
removing to another place, or accepting some situation
of trust; but the want of a little money to carry him
from one place to another, the want of a better suit of
clothes, or some difficulty of that kind, often stands
in the way. Eight pounds would conquer all these obstacles.</p>
<p class='c004'>It may be said that five years is too long a time to
look forward to. We think not. This country is full
of examples of men who have risen from beginnings
hardly more than the savings of a penny, through a
long course of persevering industry, to wealth and
respectability. <a id='tn-condition'></a>And we believe there is hardly a condition,
however low, from which a young man of good
principles and unceasing industry may not elevate
himself.</p>
<p class='c004'>But suppose the penny only saved during one year:
at the end of it the young man finds he has got
1<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i> 5<i>d.</i> Will he squander this at the ale-house, or
in idle dissipation, after having had the virtue to resist
temptation all through the year? We think not. This
1<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i> 5<i>d.</i> may perform a number of useful offices. It
may purchase some necessary implement, some good
substantial article of dress, some useful books, or, if well
laid out, some useful instruction in the branch of industry
which is his calling. It may relieve him in sickness,
it may contribute to the comfort of an aged father,
it may assist the young man in paying back some part
of that boundless debt which he owes to the care and
tender anxiety of a mother, who has lived long enough
to feel the want of a son’s solicitude. Finally, however
disposed of at the end of the year, if well disposed of,
the penny saved will be a source of genuine satisfaction.
The saving of it during the year has been a daily repetition
of a virtuous act, which near the end of the
year we have little doubt will be confirmed into a virtuous
habit.</p>
<p class='c004'>Suppose a dozen young men, who are fond of reading,
were to contribute a penny a week to a common stock:
at the end of the year they would have 2<i>l.</i> 12<i>s.</i> This
sum judiciously laid out, would purchase at least twelve
volumes of really useful books, varying in price from
three to four shillings, besides allowing some small sum
for the person who took care of them and kept the
accounts. Another year’s saving would add another
twelve volumes; and in five years the library might
contain sixty volumes, including a few useful books
of reference, such as dictionaries, maps, &c.—an amount
of books, if well chosen, quite as much as any one
of them would be able to study well in his leisure
hours.</p>
<p class='c004'>But suppose the number of contributors were doubled
or trebled, the annual income would then amount to
5<i>l.</i> 4<i>s.</i>, or 7<i>l.</i> 16<i>s.</i>, for which sum they could certainly
procure as many useful books as they could possibly
want. There might be some difficulty in the choice of
books, as it is not always easy to know what are good
and what are bad. We propose to meet this difficulty
by occasional notices of particular books under the head
of ‘The Library.’ At present we will merely suggest
what <em>classes</em> of books might gradually find admission
into such a library. There are now good practical and
cheap treatises on the principles of many of the branches
of industry which are followed by mechanics—such as
books on the elements of geometry and measuring of
surfaces and solids; on arithmetic; on chemistry, and
its application to the useful arts, &c.; lives of persons
distinguished for industry and knowledge; descriptions
of foreign countries, compiled from the best travels;
maps on a pretty large scale, both of the heaven and of
different parts of the earth: such books as these, with an
English dictionary, a gazetteer, and some periodical
work, would form a useful library, such as in a few years
might be got together.</p>
<p class='c004'>It would be impossible to enumerate all the good
things that a penny will purchase; and as to all the
bad things, they are not worth enumerating. But there
is one which we cannot omit mentioning. A penny will
buy a penny-worth of gin, and a man may spend it
daily without thinking himself the worse for it. But
as every penny saved tends to give a man the habit
of saving pennies, so every penny spent in gin, tends
to cause him to spend more. Thus the saver of the
penny may at the end of the year be a healthy reputable
person, and confirmed economist, with 1<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i> 5<i>d.</i>
in his pocket: the spender may be an unhealthy, ill-looking,
worthless fellow; a confirmed gin-drinker,
with nothing in his pocket except unpaid bills.</p>
<p class='c004'>We wish it were in our power to impress strongly on
the working people of this kingdom, how much happiness
they may have at their command by small
savings. They are by far the most numerous part of
the community; and it is by their condition that the
real prosperity of the country should be estimated; not
by the few who live in affluence and splendour. Hard
as the condition of the working classes often is, are they
not yet aware that by industry, frugality, and a judicious
combination of their small resources, they can do more
to make themselves happy, than anybody else can do
for them?</p>
<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span></div>
<div class='c005'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>MIRABEAU.</h2>
</div>
<p class='c003'>M. Dumont, of Geneva, a distinguished writer on jurisprudence,
who died about two years ago, has left behind
him a most interesting work, entitled ‘Recollections of
Mirabeau, and of the two first Legislative Assemblies.’
This work has been received throughout Europe as one
of great merit and importance, and deservedly so; for it
contains, in a brief space, the best account we have read
of the most extraordinary part of the life of one of the
most extraordinary men of modern times; and with it,
the first impulses and movement of the French Revolution.</p>
<p class='c004'>This most extraordinary man, whose character is
still a problem to most of those who knew him, was
Honoré Gabriel Riquetti de Mirabeau, who ruled the
National Assembly, who directed the political opinions
of twenty-five millions of men for two years together,
and who was, for that period, what has been cleverly
termed “the intellectual Dictator of France.” This
champion for the people was born a noble; his father
was the Marquis de Mirabeau, of whose ancestors we
know nothing; but, on his mother’s side, he could boast
a descent of which even those who dislike or care not for
aristocracy, might be proud; for she was grand-daughter
of Riquet, constructor of the famous canal of Languedoc.
Mirabeau was ugly in face almost to hideousness; and
he was perfectly conscious of this; for, in writing to a
lady who had never seen him, he told her to fancy the
face of a tiger that had been marked with the smallpox,
and then she would have an idea of his countenance;
and at a later period, when his voice and gesture
and appearance struck the National Assembly with awe,
he was accustomed to say, if any of its members had
shown refractoriness during his absence, “I will go
down to the House and show them my wild boar’s head<a id='r1'></a><a href='#f1' class='c006'><sup>[1]</sup></a>,
and that will silence them!”</p>
<p class='c004'>All the circumstances of the times were favourable to
his ambition and his wonderful talents and energy; but
perhaps no man ever begun public life with more disadvantages,
as regarded his own character, against him.
He had been seventeen times in prison; he had deserted
his own, and run away with other men’s wives;
he had had the most scandalous lawsuits with his own
family; had been condemned as a criminal; exiled; executed
in effigy; he had written and published one of the
most depraved of books; had led the most dissipated
and obscene of lives; and was known to be a dangerous
enemy to those he hated, and an unsure friend to those
he pretended to love. The morals of the French capital
had been reduced in the days of despotism to a degraded
standard; but, according to Dumont, when the
name of Mirabeau was first read in the National
Assembly among those elected to represent the French
nation, it was hissed and hooted by all present.</p>
<p class='c004'>In spite, however, of all this, in a few weeks he was
everything with those men who had considered themselves
disgraced by being associated with him; and gathering
influence and power by bounds, and not by slow
steps, he became almost the absolute master of the National
Assembly, the mass of whose members he moved
and controlled with as much facility as the Italian showman
moves his wooden puppets. His talents and energy
were indeed, as we have characterized them—<em>wonderful</em>,
and so was his eloquence; but these qualities would
not of themselves have given him the supremacy he
obtained. There were two other advantages in his
favour: the first of which we have never heard sufficient
importance given to—the second of which M. Dumont
alone has clearly, and, it appears to us, honestly, stated.</p>
<p class='c004'>During his long imprisonments, Mirabeau had profoundly
studied the science of politics; and during
his exile in foreign countries, and particularly in England,
he had attentively investigated the practical part
of government: he was the only man that entered the
National Assembly well acquainted with the necessary
forms and true spirit of a representative government;
all the rest had to learn their rudiments. There was
talent—there was even genius in abundance—but all
these new legislators were theorists; Mirabeau was
the only practical man.</p>
<p class='c004'>In the second place, he had a wonderful art (which
he had also acquired during his misfortunes, when his
poverty obliged him to write and compile books and
pamphlets for his living) of readily availing himself of
the assistance of other men, and of working up their
materials so as to make them appear his own. The
whole matter of many of Mirabeau’s most admired
speeches was furnished by M. Dumont himself, or by
another citizen of Geneva, M. Duroverai; and, generally,
he laid under contribution the information and
experience of all his associates. When he was deficient
on any point, or, what was more frequently the case,
pressed for time, he would assemble these gentlemen,
and from their conversation, their notes, or digested
essays, get up all he wanted, and proceed forthwith to
astonish the Assembly with his wonderful fund of
knowledge and flashes of eloquence. But that eloquence,
it must be said, did really make the matter his
own; his powers of adaptation were as great as those
of invention in other men.</p>
<p class='c004'>Mirabeau’s hatred to the ancient despotism was implacable;
but he seems to have had no objection to a
constitutional monarchy. Great obscurity still hangs
over these matters; but it is said that, seeing the
democratic principle was gaining too much strength,
and the revolution going too far, he had undertaken to
stop its march, and that the negotiations with the Court
of the unfortunate Louis XVI., which were notorious,
had for their object the prevention of a republic, and
the establishment of a limited monarchy. His will had
hitherto been law; he had ruled and played with all
parties and factions—but whether he could now have
succeeded to the utmost of his wish—whether he could
now have quieted the storm <em>he</em> had mainly raised, and
on which he had floated, we cannot determine; for at
the very crisis, at the time when he was supposed to
hold the destinies of his country in his hands, he died in
the forty-second year of his age, after a most agonizing
illness of five days, brought on by his detestable excesses.</p>
<p class='c004'>His funeral was “rather an apotheosis than a human
entombment.” Nearly all Paris followed his body to
the church of Sainte Geneviève, thenceforward entitled
the Pantheon; the melancholy music, the thousand
torches, and the intermittent cannon, producing an effect
which has been forcibly described by many eye-witnesses;
and those who had feared and hated him, those who had
been literally enchanted by his eloquence and genius, saw
the grave closed over Mirabeau with awe and feelings
that never can be described.</p>
<p class='c004'>The career of Mirabeau offers a few consolatory
remarks to those who are gifted with no extraordinary
faculties, either for good or for evil. Mirabeau swayed
the destinies of millions,—but he was never happy;—Mirabeau
had almost reached the pinnacle of human
power, and yet he fell a victim to the same evil passions
which degrade and ruin the lowest of mankind. He
could never be really great, because he was never freed
from the bondage of his own evil desires. The man who
steadily pursues a consistent course of duty, which has
for its object to do good to himself and to all around
him, will be followed to the grave by a few humble and
sincere mourners, and no record will remain, except in
the hearts of those who loved him, to tell of his earthly
career. But that man may gladly leave to such as
Mirabeau the music, the torches, and the cannon, by
which a nation proclaimed its loss; for assuredly he has
felt that inward consolation, and that sustaining hope
<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>throughout his life, which only the good can feel;—he
has fully enjoyed, in all its purity, the holy influence of
“the peace of God, which passeth all understanding.”</p>
<hr class='c007'>
<div class='footnote' id='f1'>
<p class='c004'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. In French, la hure.</p>
</div>
<div class='c005'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>THE MAY-FLY.</h2>
</div>
<p class='c003'>“The angler’s May-fly, the most short-lived in its perfect state of
any of the insect race, emerges from the water, where it passes its
<i>aurelia</i> state, about six in the evening, and dies about eleven at
night.”—<cite>White’s Selborne.</cite></p>
<div class='lg-container-b c001'>
<div class='linegroup'>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>The sun of the eve was warm and bright</div>
<div class='line in2'>When the May-fly burst his shell,</div>
<div class='line'>And he wanton’d awhile in that fair light</div>
<div class='line in2'>O’er the river’s gentle swell;</div>
<div class='line'>And the deepening tints of the crimson sky</div>
<div class='line'>Still gleam’d on the wing of the glad May-fly.</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>The colours of sunset pass’d away,</div>
<div class='line in2'>The crimson and yellow green,</div>
<div class='line'>And the evening-star’s first twinkling ray</div>
<div class='line in2'>In the waveless stream was seen;</div>
<div class='line'>Till the deep repose of the stillest night</div>
<div class='line'>Was hushing about his giddy flight.</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>The noon of the night is nearly come—</div>
<div class='line in2'>There’s a crescent in the sky;—</div>
<div class='line'>The silence still hears the myriad hum</div>
<div class='line in2'>Of the insect revelry.</div>
<div class='line'>The hum has ceas’d—the quiet wave</div>
<div class='line in2'>Is now the sportive May-fly’s grave.</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>Oh! thine was a blessed lot—to spring</div>
<div class='line in2'>In thy lustihood to air,</div>
<div class='line'>And sail about, on untiring wing,</div>
<div class='line in2'>Through a world most rich and fair,</div>
<div class='line'>To drop at once in thy watery bed,</div>
<div class='line'>Like a leaf that the willow branch has shed.</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>And who shall say that his thread of years</div>
<div class='line in2'>Is a life more blest than thine!</div>
<div class='line'>Has his feverish dream of doubts and fears</div>
<div class='line in2'>Such joys as those which shine</div>
<div class='line'>In the constant pleasures of thy way,</div>
<div class='line'>Most happy child of the happy May?</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>For thou wert born when the earth was clad</div>
<div class='line in2'>With her robe of buds and flowers,</div>
<div class='line'>And didst float about with a soul as glad</div>
<div class='line in2'>As a bird in the sunny showers;</div>
<div class='line'>And the hour of thy death had a sweet repose,</div>
<div class='line'>Like a melody, sweetest at its close.</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>Nor too brief the date of thy cheerful race—</div>
<div class='line in2'>’Tis its use that measures time—</div>
<div class='line'>And the mighty Spirit that fills all space</div>
<div class='line in2'>With His life and His will sublime,</div>
<div class='line'>May see that the May-fly and the Man</div>
<div class='line'>Each flutter out the same small span.</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>And the fly that is born with the sinking sun,</div>
<div class='line in2'>To die ere the midnight hour,</div>
<div class='line'>May have deeper joy, ere his course be run,</div>
<div class='line in2'>Than man in his pride and power;</div>
<div class='line'>And the insect’s minutes be spared the fears</div>
<div class='line'>And the anxious doubts of our three-score years.</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>The years and the minutes are as one—</div>
<div class='line in2'>The fly drops in his twilight mirth,</div>
<div class='line'>And the man, when his long day’s work is done,</div>
<div class='line in2'>Crawls to the self-same earth.</div>
<div class='line'>Great Father of each! may our mortal day</div>
<div class='line'>Be the prelude to an endless May!</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='c005'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>HIGH DUTIES AND LOW DUTIES.</h2>
</div>
<p class='c003'>It is a well-known principle, that in taxation two and
two do not make four—that is, if a government receive
one sum from a low or a moderate duty upon an article
of common use, that receipt will not be doubled by
doubling the duty. In some cases it will be even lessened.
This result is produced by the diminished consumption,
arising out of the higher price to the consumer;
which higher price includes the additional profit
which the manufacturer and the retailer must charge
for the additional capital employed upon the article in
consequence of the tax. Suppose a tax of a penny
were put upon the ‘Penny Magazine.’ Let us see, in
that case, how the tax would affect the consumption,
and what the government would gain by the tax. In
the first place the tax would raise the price of the Magazine
to <em>three</em>-pence; for, as the retailer receives one-third
of the present price, he would also require to receive
one-third of the additional price:—the stamp of a
penny would therefore immediately become three half-pence
to the consumer, by the profit of the retailer alone.
The remaining half-penny would be necessary to compensate
the publisher for this additional advance of
capital, and for the diminished return upon the original
outlay for authors, artists, and that branch of the printing
process which is called composition. There are certain
expenses which are the same whether a work sells one
hundred copies, or one hundred thousand. The price
being therefore raised to three-pence, we may fairly conclude
that the consumption would be diminished nine-tenths—that
ten thousand copies would be sold instead
of a hundred thousand. Let us see how the revenue
would be affected by these altered circumstances:—</p>
<table class='table0'>
<tr>
<th class='c008'></th>
<th class='c009'> </th>
<th class='c009'> </th>
<th class='c009'> </th>
<th class='c009'> </th>
<th class='c009'> </th>
<th class='c009'> </th>
<th class='c009'>£.</th>
<th class='c009'><i>s.</i></th>
<th class='c010'><i>d.</i></th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008' colspan='7'>The paper for 100,000 copies of the Penny Magazine weighs 3,400 lbs., upon which a duty is paid of 3d. per lb., amounting to</td>
<td class='c009'>42</td>
<td class='c009'>10</td>
<td class='c010'>0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'>The imposition of a stamp of 1d. per copy would have the effect of raising the retail price of the Penny Magazine to 3d. At that rate it is presumed that the sale of the <em>Three</em>-penny Magazine, instead of being 100,000 copies, would be reduced to 10,000 at the utmost.</td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c010'> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'>Upon 10,000 copies, with 1d. stamp, the revenue would receive as under:</td>
<th class='c009'>£.</th>
<th class='c009'><i>s.</i></th>
<th class='c009'><i>d.</i></th>
<th class='c009'>£.</th>
<th class='c009'><i>s.</i></th>
<th class='c009'><i>d.</i></th>
<th class='c009'>£.</th>
<th class='c009'><i>s.</i></th>
<th class='c010'><i>d.</i></th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'>Duty of 3d. in the lb. upon paper.</td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'>4</td>
<td class='c009'>5</td>
<td class='c009'>0</td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c010'> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'>Stamp of 1d. upon 10,000</td>
<td class='c009'>41</td>
<td class='c009'>13</td>
<td class='c009'>0</td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c010'> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'>Deduct discount of twenty per cent. allowed upon news stamps</td>
<td class='c009'>8</td>
<td class='c009'>6</td>
<td class='c009'>6</td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c010'> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'> </td>
<td class='sumline c009' colspan='3'></td>
<td class='c009'>33</td>
<td class='c009'>6</td>
<td class='c009'>6</td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c010'> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='sumline c009' colspan='3'></td>
<td class='c009'>37</td>
<td class='c009'>11</td>
<td class='c010'>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='sumline c010' colspan='3'></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008' colspan='7'><em>Weekly</em> loss to the revenue from the high duty</td>
<td class='c009'>4</td>
<td class='c009'>18</td>
<td class='c010'>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='sumline c010' colspan='3'></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008' colspan='7'>Or, <em>Annual</em> duty upon sixty-four impressions of 100,000 copies of the Penny Magazine, using 217,600 lbs. of paper, taxed at 3d. per lb</td>
<td class='c009'>2,720</td>
<td class='c009'>0</td>
<td class='c010'>0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008' colspan='7'><em>Annual</em> produce of a penny stamp, and paper duty upon 10,000 copies</td>
<td class='c009'>2,404</td>
<td class='c009'>16</td>
<td class='c010'>0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
<td class='sumline c010' colspan='3'></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008' colspan='7'><em>Annual</em> loss to the revenue from the high duty</td>
<td class='c009'>315</td>
<td class='c009'>4</td>
<td class='c010'>0</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p class='c004'>By this operation, therefore, the government would
sustain that loss which invariably results from the diminished
consumption of an article of general use upon
which a high duty is imposed; and ninety thousand persons
would be excluded from the purchase of a little work
from which they derive instruction and amusement. By
this diminished consumption of nine-tenths of the Penny
Magazine, nearly nine-tenths of the paper-makers, printers,
type-founders, ink-makers, bookbinders, carriers,
and retailers, to whom the sale of a hundred thousand
copies weekly affords profitable employment, would, as
far as the Penny Magazine goes, be deprived of that
employment; and that diminution of profitable employment
would in a degree diminish their power of continuing
consumers of other articles contributing to the
revenue, and thus still more affect the amount of taxation
dependent upon the Penny Magazine.</p>
<div class='c005'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<p class='c003'><i>Perseverance</i>.—“I recollect,” says Sir Jonah Barrington,
“in Queen’s County, to have seen a Mr. Clerk, who
had been a working carpenter, and when making a bench
for the session justices at the Court-house, was laughed
at for taking peculiar pains in planing and smoothing
the seat of it. He smilingly observed, that he did so
<em>to make it easy for himself</em>, as he was resolved he
would never die till he had a right to sit thereupon, and
he kept his word. He was an industrious man—honest,
respectable, and kind-hearted. He succeeded in all his
efforts to accumulate an independence; he did accumulate
it, and uprightly. His character kept pace with the increase
of his property, and he lived to sit as a magistrate
on that very bench that he sawed and planed.”</p>
<hr class='c011'>
<div class='colophon'>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c012'>
<div>LONDON:—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST.</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center'>
<div><i>Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied Wholesale by the following Booksellers:</i>—</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='colophon-left'>
<div class='lg-container-l'>
<div class='linegroup'>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'><i>London</i>, <span class='sc'>Groombridge</span>, Panyer Alley, Paternoster Row.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Birmingham</i>, <span class='sc'>Drake</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Bristol</i>, <span class='sc'>Westley</span> and Co.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Hull</i>, <span class='sc'>Stephenson</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Leeds</i>, <span class='sc'>Baines</span> and Co.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Liverpool</i>, <span class='sc'>Willmer</span> and <span class='sc'>Smith</span>.</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='colophon-right'>
<div class='lg-container-l'>
<div class='linegroup'>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'><i>Manchester</i>, <span class='sc'>Robinson</span>, and <span class='sc'>Webb</span> and <span class='sc'>Simms</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Newcastle-upon-Tyne</i>, <span class='sc'>Charnley</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Nottingham</i>, <span class='sc'>Wright</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Dublin</i>, <span class='sc'>Wakeman</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Edinburgh</i>, <span class='sc'>Oliver</span> and <span class='sc'>Boyd</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Glasgow</i>, <span class='sc'>Atkinson</span> and Co.</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='clear'>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center'>
<div>Printed by <span class='sc'>William Clowes</span>, Stamford Street.</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='pbb'>
<hr class='pb c001'>
</div>
<div>
<p class='c013'></p>
</div>
<div class='transcribers-notes'>
<div class='nf-center-c1'>
<div class='nf-center'>
<div><span class='xlarge'>Transcriber’s Notes</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c014'>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain. Itemized changes from the original text:</p>
<ul class='ul_1'>
<li><a href='#tn-valueof'>p. 61</a>: Added “a” to phrase “the value of a somewhat higher article.”
</li>
<li><a href='#tn-condition'>p. 62</a>: Changed “here” to “there” in phrase “And we believe there is
hardly a condition, however low, from which.”
</li>
</ul>
</div>
<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76752 ***</div>
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