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<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76897 ***</div>
<div>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>
<h1 class='c000' title='The Penny Magazine, July 7, 1832'>THE PENNY MAGAZINE</h1>
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<div><span class='small'>OF THE</span></div>
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<div><span class='large'>Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.</span></div>
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<hr class="full">
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<div class="masthead-right">[<span class='sc'>July</span> 7, 1832</div>
<div class="masthead-left">17.]</div>
<div class="masthead-centre">PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.</div>
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<h2 class='c002'>THE CAPE BUFFALO—BOS CAFFER.</h2>
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<div>[From a Correspondent.]</div>
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<a href='images/the-cape-buffalo-full.jpg'><img src='images/the-cape-buffalo-inline.png' alt='' class='ig001'></a>
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<p>[Cape Buffalo.]</p>
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<p class='c004'>Of the South African buffalo I had not many opportunities
for personal observation during my residence in
that part of the Cape Colony of which this animal is
still an inhabitant; but, living among people by whom
he is frequently and eagerly hunted, I heard a good
deal of his character and habits, which may be comprised
in the following sketch.</p>
<p class='c004'>The Boors and Hottentots describe the buffalo to be,
what his aspect strongly indicates, an animal of a fierce,
treacherous, and cruel disposition. Even when not
provoked by wounds or driven to extremity in the chase,
they say he will attack, with the utmost ferocity, his great
enemy man, if he happens to intrude incautiously upon
his haunts; and what renders him the more dangerous
is his habit of skulking in the jungle, when he observes
travellers approaching, and then suddenly rushing out
upon them. It has been remarked, too, (and this observation
has been corroborated by the Swedish traveller
Sparrman,) that if he succeeds in killing a man by goring
and tossing him with his formidable horns, he will
stand over his victim afterwards for a long time, trampling
upon him with his hoofs, crushing him with his
knees, mangling the body with his horns, and stripping
off the skin with his rough and prickly tongue. This he
does not do all at once, but at intervals, going away
and again returning, as if more fully to glut his vengeance.</p>
<p class='c004'>Although I have no reason to question the truth of
this description, it ought to be qualified by stating that
though the buffalo will not unfrequently thus attack
man, and even animals, without any obvious provocation,
yet this malignant disposition will be found, if
accurately inquired into, the exception rather than the
rule of the animal’s ordinary habits.</p>
<p class='c004'>The <span lang="la"><i>bos caffer</i></span> is no more a beast of prey than the
domestic ox, and though much fiercer as well as more
powerful than the ox, and bold enough sometimes to
stand stoutly on self defence even against the lion, it is,
I apprehend, nevertheless his natural instinct to retire
from the face of man, if undisturbed, rather than to
provoke his hostility. The proofs that are adduced of
his vicious and wanton malignity arise chiefly from the
following cause. The males of a herd, especially at
certain seasons of the year, contend furiously for the
mastery; and after many conflicts the unsuccessful
competitors are driven off, at least for a season, by their
stronger rivals. The exiles, like some other species of
animals under similar circumstances<a id='r1'></a><a href='#f1' class='c005'><sup>[1]</sup></a>, are peculiarly
mischievous; and it is while skulking solitarily about
the thickets, in this state of sulky irritation, that they
most usually exhibit the dangerous disposition generally
ascribed to the species.</p>
<p class='c004'>It is, nevertheless, very true that the Cape buffalo is,
at all times, a dangerous animal to hunt; as, when
wounded, or closely pressed, he will not unfrequently
turn and run down his pursuer, whose only chance of
escape in that case is the swiftness of his steed, if the
huntsman be a Colonist or European. The Hottentot,
who is light and agile, and dexterous in plunging like an
antelope through the intricacies of an entangled forest,
generally prefers following this game on foot. Like all
pursuits, when the spirit of enterprise is highly excited
by some admixture of perilous adventure, buffalo hunting
is passionately followed by those who once devote
themselves to it; nor do the perilous accidents that
occasionally occur appear to make any deep impression
on those that witness them. The consequence is, that
the buffalo is now nearly extirpated throughout every
part of the Cape Colony, except in the large forests or
jungles in the eastern districts, where, together with the
elephant, he still finds a precarious shelter.</p>
<p class='c004'>It was in this quarter that the following incident in
buffalo hunting, which may serve as a specimen of this
rough pastime, was related to me by a Dutch-African
farmer, who had been an eye-witness of the scene some
fifteen years before. A party of Boors had gone out to
hunt a troop of buffaloes, which were grazing in a
piece of marshy ground, interspersed with groves of
yellow wood and mimosa trees, on the very spot where
the village of Somerset is now built. As they could not
conveniently get within shot of the game without
crossing part of the <i>valei</i> or marsh, which did not afford
a safe passage for horses, they agreed to leave their
steeds in charge of their Hottentot servants and to
advance on foot, thinking that if any of the buffaloes
should turn upon them, it would be easy to escape by
retreating across the quagmire, which, though passable
for man, would not support the weight of a heavy
quadruped. They advanced accordingly, and, under
cover of the bushes, approached the game with such
advantage that the first volley brought down three of
the fattest of the herd, and so severely wounded the
great bull leader that he dropped on his knees, bellowing
with pain. Thinking him mortally wounded, the foremost
of the huntsmen issued from the covert, and began
reloading his musket as he advanced to give him a
finishing shot. But no sooner did the infuriated
animal see his foe in front of him, than he sprang up
and rushed headlong upon him. The man, throwing
<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>down his empty gun, fled towards the quagmire; but
the savage beast was so close upon him that he despaired
of escaping in that direction, and turning suddenly
round a clump of copsewood, began to climb an old mimosa
tree which stood at the one side of it. The raging
beast, however, was too quick for him. Bounding
forward with a roar, which my informant (who was of
the party) described as being one of the most frightful
sounds he ever heard, he caught the unfortunate man
with his horns, just as he had nearly escaped his reach,
and tossed him in the air with such force that the body
fell, dreadfully mangled, into a lofty cleft of the tree.
The buffalo ran round the tree once or twice apparently
looking for the man, until weakened with loss of
blood he again sunk on his knees. The rest of the
party then, recovering from their confusion, came up
and despatched him, though too late to save their
comrade, whose body was hanging in the tree quite
dead.</p>
<hr class='c006'>
<div class='footnote' id='f1'>
<p class='c004'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. The elephant, for instance. See Menageries, vol. ii. p. 71.</p>
</div>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>ON THE IMPORTANCE OF A PUBLIC DECLARATION OF THE REASONS OF DECISIONS IN COURTS OF JUSTICE.</h2>
</div>
<p class='c007'>While a cause is pending I admit that all publications,
and all the little arts of popularity, tending to
raise the prejudices or to inflame the passions, are
highly improper, and ought not to be permitted. But,
after the decision of a cause, the freedom of inquiry
into the conduct and opinions of the judges is one of
the noblest and best securities that human invention can
contrive for the faithful administration of justice.</p>
<p class='c004'>It is for this very purpose that it has been established
in this country, that judges shall give their opinions
and decisions publicly,—an admirable institution, which
does honour to Britain, and gives it a superiority in this
respect over most of the other countries in Europe.</p>
<p class='c004'>Laws may recommend or enforce the due administration
of justice; but these laws are of little avail, when
compared with the superior efficacy of the restraint
which arises from the judgment of the public, exercised
upon the conduct and opinions of the judges.</p>
<p class='c004'>It would be extremely fatal to the liberties of this
nation, and to that inestimable blessing, the faithful
distribution of justice if this restraint upon judges were
removed or improperly checked.</p>
<p class='c004'>The public has a right, and ought to be satisfied with
regard to the conduct, ability, and integrity of their
judges. It is from these sources alone that genuine respect
and authority can be derived; and an endeavour
to make these the appendages of office, independent of
the personal character and conduct of the judge, is an
attempt which, in this free and enlightened country,
most probably never will succeed.</p>
<p class='c004'>This freedom of inquiry is not only essential to the interests
of the community, but every judge, conscious of
intending and acting honourably, ought to promote and
rejoice in the exercise of it. It is a poor spirit indeed
that can rest satisfied with authority and external regard
derived from office alone. The judge who is possessed
of proper elevation of mind will, both for his own sake
and that of his country, rejoice that his fellow-citizens
have an opportunity of satisfying themselves with regard
to his conduct, and of distinguishing judges who
deserve well of the public, from those who are unworthy.
He will adopt the sentiment of the old Roman,
who, conscious of no thoughts or actions unfit for
public view, expressed a wish for windows in his
breast, that all mankind might perceive what was passing
there.</p>
<p class='c004'>If these considerations are of any force for establishing
the justness of the principle, the only objection I
can foresee against this freedom of inquiry is, that it
may happen sometimes to be improperly exercised.</p>
<p class='c004'>This is an objection equally applicable to some of the
greatest blessings enjoyed by mankind, whether from
nature or from civil institutions. It is no real objection
to health or civil liberty, that both of them often have
been, and are, extremely liable to be abused.</p>
<p class='c004'>When the freedom of inquiry now contended for happens
to be improperly used, it will be found that the
mischief carries along with it its own remedy. The
most valuable part of mankind are soon disgusted with
unmerited or indecent attacks made either upon judges
or individuals; the person capable of such unworthy
conduct loses his aim; the unjust or illiberal invective
returns upon himself, to his own disgrace; and the
judge whose conduct has been misrepresented, instead
of suffering in the public opinion, will acquire additional
credit from the palpable injustice of the attack made
upon him.</p>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center'>
<div>⁂ From ‘Letters to Lord Mansfield, by Andrew Stuart, Esq.’</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>ON THE HOT WIND OF AFRICA CALLED THE CAMSIN.</h2>
</div>
<p class='c007'>“On my route from Suez to Cairo,” says Rüppel, “I
had an opportunity of observing a meteorological phenomenon
of a very curious nature, which possibly may lead
to some interesting results. In the year 1822, May the
21st, being seven hours distant from Cairo, and in the
desert, we were overtaken by one of those violent winds
from the south, about which many travellers have told
us such wonderful and incredible stories. During the
night there had been a light breeze from the north-east;
but a short time after sun-rise it began to blow fresh
from the S.S.E., and the wind gradually increased till
it blew a violent storm. Clouds of dust filled the whole
atmosphere, so that it was impossible to distinguish any
object clearly as far off as fifty paces; even a camel
could not be recognised at this distance. In the mean
time, we heard all along the surface of the ground a
kind of rustling or crackling sound, which I supposed
to proceed from the rolling sand that was dashed about
with such fury by the wind. Those parts of our bodies
which were turned towards the wind were heated to an
unusual degree, and we experienced a strange sensation
of smarting, which might be compared with the pricking
of fine needles. This was also accompanied by a
peculiar kind of sound. At first I thought this smarting
was occasioned by the small particles of sand being
driven by the storm against the parts of the body that
were exposed. In order to judge of the size of the
particles, I attempted to catch some in a cap; but how
great was my surprise when I found I could not succeed
in securing a single specimen of these supposed little
particles. This led me to conceive that the smarting
sensation did not proceed from the small stones or the
sand striking the body, but that it must be the effect of
some invisible force, which I could only compare with
a current of electric fluid. After forming this conjecture,
I began to pay closer attention to the phenomena
which surrounded me. I observed that the hair of all
our party bristled up a little, and that the sensation of
pricking was felt most in the extremities and joints,
just as if a man were electrified on an insulated stool.
To convince myself that the painful sensation did not
proceed from small particles of stone or sand, I held a
piece of paper stretched up against the wind, so that
even the finest portion of dust must have been detected,
either by the eye or the ear; yet nothing of the kind
took place. The surface of the paper remained perfectly
unmoved and free from noise. I stretched my arms
out, and immediately the pricking pain in the ends of
my fingers increased. This led me to conjecture that
the violent wind, called in Egypt Camsin, is either
attended by strong electrical phenomena, or else the
electricity is caused by the motion of the dry sand of
the desert. Hence we may account for the heavy
masses of dust, formed of particles of sand, which, for
<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>several days, darken the cloudless sky. Perhaps we
may also go so far as to conjecture that the Camsin
may have destroyed caravans by its electrical properties,
since some travellers assure us that caravans have occasionally
perished in the desert; though I must remark
that in all the regions I have travelled through, I never
could hear the least account of such an occurrence. At
all events, to suppose that such calamities have been
caused by the sand overwhelming the caravans, is the
most ludicrous idea that can be imagined.</p>
<p class='c004'>“The Camsin generally blows in Egypt for two or
three days successively, but with much less violence
during the night than the day. It only occurs in the
period between the middle of April and the beginning
of June, and hence its Arabic name, which signifies,
‘the wind of fifty days.’”</p>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>FORKS.</h2>
</div>
<div class='subtitle'>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c003'>
<div>[From a Correspondent.]</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c004'>The interesting extract in your Magazine of the 26th
May, on forks, induces me to send you a few scraps on
the history of forks.</p>
<p class='c004'>The word fork occurs only once or twice in the
Bible; once in the Pentateuch, where mention is made of
“flesh forks,” evidently invented to take the meat out
of the pot; the other instance is in an account of the
riches of Solomon’s temple, where, singularly enough,
the Vulgate has the word <span lang="la"><i>furca</i></span>, which the English
translation renders by spoon. Athenæus mentions also
the word fork; but it does not appear whether it was a
<span lang="la"><i>bident</i></span> (with two prongs), or a <span lang="la"><i>trident</i></span> (with three
prongs), and it is quite certain that the Greeks were
ignorant of the use of forks in eating. At that time
even Lucullus was not acquainted with that luxury; a
two-branched instrument or two were found at Herculaneum,
but it seems clear that they were not used at
table in any period of the Roman history. The first
instance that history records of the use of forks was at
the table of John the good Duke of Burgundy, and he
had only two.</p>
<p class='c004'>At that period the loaves were made round; they were
cut in slices which were piled by the side of the carver,
or <span lang="la"><i>Ecuyer Tranchant</i></span> (Cutting Squire). He had a
pointed carving-knife, and a skewer of drawn silver or
gold, which he stuck into the joint; having cut off a
slice, he took it on the point of the knife, and placed
it on a slice of bread, which was served to the guest.
This ancient custom of serving the meat on the point
of the carver is still general throughout the continent
of Europe. A leg or a haunch of mutton had always
a piece of paper wrapped round the shank, which the
carver took hold of with the left hand when he carved
the joint, and such is still the custom in Lower
Germany and Italy. We, who always imitate, and
often without knowing why, have imported the custom
of ornamenting the shank, but the <em>penetration</em> of the
fork is a decided improvement. Pointed knives are
still general on the Continent, it being so difficult to
leave off old customs, even after the occasion that gave
them birth has ceased. It is only since the peace, when
every thing English became fashionable, that round-topped
knives have been adopted at Paris.</p>
<p class='c004'>Before the revolution in France it was customary,
when a gentleman was invited to dinner, for him to
send his servant with his knife, fork, and spoon; or if
he had no servant, he carried them with him in his
breeches-pocket, as a carpenter carries his rule. A few
of the ancient regime still follow the good old custom,
because it is old. The peasantry of the Tyrol, and of
parts of Germany and Switzerland, generally carry a
case in their pockets, containing a knife and fork, and a
spoon.</p>
<p class='c004'>Few use a fork so gracefully as an English lady.
The Germans grasp it with a clenched fist.</p>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>THE WEAVER’S SONG.</h2>
</div>
<div class='subtitle'>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c003'>
<div>[From ‘English Songs, and other Poems, by Barry Cornwall.’]</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='lg-container-b'>
<div class='linegroup'>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>Weave, brothers, weave!—Swiftly throw</div>
<div class='line in2'>The shuttle athwart the loom,</div>
<div class='line'>And show us how brightly your flowers grow,</div>
<div class='line in2'>That have beauty but no perfume!</div>
<div class='line'>Come, show us the rose, with a hundred dyes,</div>
<div class='line in2'>The lily, that hath no spot;</div>
<div class='line'>The violet, deep as your true love’s eyes,</div>
<div class='line in2'>And the little forget-me-not!</div>
<div class='line in4'>Sing,—sing, brothers! weave and sing!</div>
<div class='line in6'>’Tis good both to sing, and to weave</div>
<div class='line in4'>’Tis better to work than live idle.</div>
<div class='line in6'>’Tis better to sing than grieve.</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>Weave, brothers, weave!—Weave, and bid</div>
<div class='line in2'>The colours of sunset glow!</div>
<div class='line'>Let grace in each gliding thread be hid!</div>
<div class='line in2'>Let beauty about ye blow!</div>
<div class='line'>Let your skein be long, and your silk be fine,</div>
<div class='line in2'>And your hands both firm and sure,</div>
<div class='line'>And time nor chance shall your work untwine;</div>
<div class='line in2'>But all,—like a truth,—endure!—</div>
<div class='line in12'>So,—sing, brothers, &c.</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>Weave, brothers, weave!—Toil is ours;</div>
<div class='line in2'>But toil is the lot of men:</div>
<div class='line'>One gathers the fruit, one gathers the flowers,</div>
<div class='line in2'>One soweth the seed again:</div>
<div class='line'>There is not a creature, from England’s King,</div>
<div class='line in2'>To the peasant that delves the soil,</div>
<div class='line'>That knows half the pleasures the seasons bring,</div>
<div class='line in2'>If he have not his share of toil!</div>
<div class='line in12'>So,—sing, brothers, &c.</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<p class='c007'><i>Dances: the Tarantula.</i>—“The Peccorara and Tarantella
are the dances of Calabria: the latter is generally
adopted throughout the kingdom of Naples. The music
accompanying it is extravagant and without melody: it consists
of some notes, the movement of which is always increasing,
till it ends in producing a convulsive effort. Two
persons placed opposite to each other make, like a pair of
savages, wild contortions and indecent gestures, which terminate
in a sort of delirium. This dance, originating in the
city of Tarentum, has given rise to the fable of the Tarantula,
whose venomous bite, it is pretended, can be cured
only by music and hard dancing. Many respectable persons
who have resided for a long time in the city of Tarentum,
have assured me that they never witnessed any circumstance
of the kind, and that it could be only attributed to
the heat and insalubrity of the climate, which produce
nervous affections that are soothed and composed by the
charms of music. The Tarantula is a species of spider that
is to be found all over the South of Italy. The Calabrians
do not fear it, and I have often seen our soldiers hold it in
their hands without any bad effects ensuing.”—<cite>Calabria,
during a Military Residence</cite></p>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<p class='c007'><i>Property.</i>—The advantages of the acquisition of property
are two-fold; they are not merely to be estimated by the
pecuniary profit produced, but by the superior tone of industry
and economy which the possessor unconsciously acquires.
When a man is able to call <em>his own</em> that which he
has obtained by his own well-directed exertion, this power
at once causes him to feel raised in the scale of being, and
endows him with the capability of enlarging the stock of his
possessions. A cottager having a garden, a cow, or even a
pig, is much more likely to be an industrious member of
society than one who has nothing in which he can take an
interest during his hours of relaxation, and who feels he is
of no consequence because he has nothing which he can call
<em>his own</em>. The impressions which have been produced upon
the minds of the peasantry, by affording them the means of
acquiring property and of possessing objects of care and
industry, are great, unqualified, and unvaried. In every
instance the cottager has been rendered more industrious,
the wife more active and managing, the children better
educated, and more fitted for their station in life.</p>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<p class='c007'><a id='tn-goldenrule'></a><i>A Golden Rule.</i>—Industry will make a man a purse, and
frugality will find him strings for it. Neither the purse nor
the strings will cost him anything. He who has it should
only draw the strings as frugality directs, and he will be sure
always to find a useful penny at the bottom of it. The servants
of industry are known by their livery; it is always
<em>whole</em> and <em>wholesome</em>. Idleness travels very leisurely, and
poverty soon overtakes him. Look at the <em>ragged slaves</em>
of <em>idleness</em>, and judge <a id='tn-industryor'></a>which is the best master to serve—<span class='fss'>INDUSTRY</span>
or <span class='fss'>IDLENESS</span>.</p>
<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span></div>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>WESTMINSTER ABBEY.</h2>
</div>
<div class='illo-wide'>
<div class='figcenter id001'>
<a href='images/westminster-abbey-1-full.jpg'><img src='images/westminster-abbey-1-inline.png' alt='' class='ig001'></a>
<div class='ic001'>
<p>[Western Entrance.]</p>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c007'>This magnificent and venerable pile, the second architectural
glory of our metropolis, is, like St. Paul’s, the
last of several successive structures which have occupied
the same spot. The ground on which Westminster
Abbey stands was anciently part of a small island,
called Thorney Island, or the Isle of Thorns, formed
by a branch of the Thames. This branch, leaving the
main course of the river near the end of Abingdon
Street, ran in a westerly direction along the line of the
present College Street, and the south side of Dean’s
Yard. It then turned northwardly, skirting the western
side of Dean’s Yard, and, crossing Tothill Street, continued
its course along Prince’s Street (then Long
Ditch). From thence it ran in an eastern direction
along Gardener’s Lane, crossing King Street, Parliament
Street, and Cannon Row (formerly Channel
Row), and rejoined the river near the southern termination
of Privy Gardens. The hollow bed of this
water-course is still mostly preserved, forming part of
the sewers; and in the twelfth century, and probably
for a long time afterwards, the open stream was crossed
by a bridge at the place where it passed through
King Street. Originally, as was indeed the case with
the borders of the Thames along nearly the whole
of its course to the sea, the ground beyond this hollow
was probably to a considerable distance a mere marsh.
There is reason to conclude that this was the case
almost as far as the present Chelsea Water-Works
in one direction, and to the north side of St. James’s
Park in another. The island itself may be supposed
to have been nearly in the same state. It is said
to have derived its name of Thorney from the quantity
of thorns with which it was covered. As our old
legends have placed a temple of Diana on the site of
the present Cathedral of St. Paul’s, so they have conceived
it necessary to maintain the equal honour of the
Abbey Church by making it the successor of a temple
to Apollo; of the existence of which, however,
no traces ever have been found. Thorney Island,
nevertheless, is generally considered to have had its
Christian church as early as its rival in sanctity, the
mount on which St. Paul’s is built. The account which
has been commonly received is, that Sebert, King of
Essex, having been baptized about the year 605, immediately
afterwards, to give proof of the sincerity of his
conversion, built a church here and dedicated it to St.
Peter. It is certain that Sebert was in old times universally
regarded as the original founder of the Abbey;
no better evidence of which can be desired than the care
which is known to have been taken on more than one
occasion to preserve his remains and those of his queen
Ethelgotha on the repair or reconstruction of the building,
and to re-deposit them in the most honourable
place within it. Some writers, however, have contended
that this church could not really have had any existence
till more than a century after the time of Sebert. According
to other accounts, again, Sebert was not only
the founder of Westminster Abbey, but also of St. Paul’s
Cathedral. So imperfect, obscure, and perplexing are
the notices that have come down to us of those times.</p>
<p class='c004'>A fable of no ordinary audacity was invented by the
monks in regard to the first consecration of this Abbey.
It was pretended that the ceremony had been actually
performed by St. Peter in person. We need not repeat
the circumstantial details of the story; suffice it to mention,
that towards the middle of the thirteenth century
the brethren of the monastery actually sued the
minister of Rotherhithe for the tithe of the salmon
caught in his parish, on the plea, as Fleta informs
us, that St. Peter had given them this right at the
time when he consecrated their church. After the
death of Sebert, his subjects relapsed into paganism,
and the church fell into decay. It was restored by the
celebrated Offa, King of Mercia, but was again almost
entirely destroyed in the course of the Danish invasions.
King Edgar, instigated by St. Dunstan, in the year 969,
once more repaired the establishment, and endowed it
both with lands and privileges. But it was Edward the
Confessor who, nearly a century after this, first raised
it to the consequence which it has ever since maintained.
This monarch, having fixed upon the Abbey for his
burial-place, resolved to rebuild it from the foundation,
and spared no cost in his endeavour to render the
structure the most magnificent that had ever been
erected in his dominions. He devoted to the work, we
are told, “a tenth part of his entire substance, as well in
gold, silver, and cattle, as in all his other possessions.”
It was completed in the year 1065, and the 28th of
December, the day of the Holy Innocents, was appointed
for its dedication. The King, however, was seized on
Christmas-day with the illness which proved fatal on the
4th or 5th of January following; and he was not,
therefore, present at the ceremony. On the 12th of
January his body was interred with great pomp before
the high altar; and the Abbey has since received the
remains of many of his royal successors. Here also, on
Christmas-day the year following, was performed the
coronation of William the Conqueror; and in the same
place has been crowned (with the single exception, we
believe, of Edward V.) every prince who has reigned
in England during the nearly eight centuries that have
since elapsed.</p>
<p class='c004'>The structure raised by the Confessor (which was built
in the form of a cross, and is supposed to have been
the first English church built in that form) remained
without receiving any repairs or additions till the reign of
Henry III. That king, finding the eastern portion of
the edifice much wasted by time, took it down, and began
to rebuild it in a style of still greater magnificence
than before. Edward I. and succeeding monarchs continued
the work which had been thus commenced; but,
owing probably in great part to the distracted state of
the kingdom, it proceeded so slowly that it was still incomplete
when Henry VII. came to the throne, towards
the close of the fifteenth century. Henry added the
chapel dedicated to the Virgin, which is commonly known
<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>by his name, and which, admirably restored as it has
recently been, may challenge competition, not certainly
in magnitude or grandeur, but in elegance and richness
of ornament, and in what we may almost call gem-like
beauty and perfection, with any specimen of architecture
which the world has elsewhere to show. The principal
repairs or alterations that have been made since the time
of Henry VII., are those executed by Sir Christopher
Wren, under whose superintendence the western towers,
which had been till then of unequal heights, were raised
to the same elevation, and the whole building was
strengthened and renovated. These, it must be confessed,
are not in the best taste. Sir Christopher, who
despised Gothic architecture, was not the most fit person
to be employed in restoring such a structure.</p>
<p class='c004'>The following wood-cut is a view of the Abbey, from
St. James’s Park, before the alterations of Wren. It is
copied from a very rare print.</p>
<div class='illo-wide'>
<div class='figcenter id001'>
<a href='images/westminster-abbey-2-full.jpg'><img src='images/westminster-abbey-2-inline.png' alt='' class='ig001'></a>
<div class='ic001'>
<p>[Westminster Abbey and Hall.]</p>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c004'>It is impossible for us, within our narrow limits, to attempt
either an enumeration of the various curiosities and
objects of interest which this Abbey contains, or even
any description of the form and architectural character
of the building. What is properly the church is in the
form of a cross; but its eastern end is surrounded by
chapels, varying both in their shape and dimensions.
Of these there were formerly fourteen; there are still
twelve; and although that called Henry VII.’s stands
out from the rest in richness and beauty, several of
the others also display considerable luxury of decoration.
Here, as probably all our readers are aware, is preserved
the famous stone which was brought from Scone in Scotland,
by Edward I. in 1296, and upon which our kings
have since been crowned. But the principal attraction
of Westminster Abbey to the generality of its visitors,
arises from the numerous tombs which it contains, some
of which are monumental erections of great splendour.
Here, all around us, and under our feet, are the mouldering
remains of kings, queens, nobles, statesmen, warriors,
orators, poets—of those who have been most illustrious
during the successive centuries of our history, for rank,
power, beauty, or genius. This is surely a field of
graves that cannot be trodden by any without emotion,
or without many of those thoughts that make us both
wiser and better. “I know,” says Addison, in a paper on
this subject, “that entertainments of this nature are apt
to raise dark and dismal thoughts in timorous minds and
gloomy imaginations; but, for my own part, though I
am always serious, I do not know what it is to be melancholy;
and can therefore take a view of nature in her
deep and solemn scenes, with the same pleasure as in her
most gay and delightful ones. By this means I can
improve myself with those objects which others consider
with terror. When I look upon the tombs of the great,
every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the
epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes
out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone,
my heart melts with compassion; when I see the
tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of
grieving for those whom we must quickly follow; when
I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I
consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men
that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I
reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the bitter competitions,
factions, and debates of mankind. When I
read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died
yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider
that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries,
and make our appearance together.”</p>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<p class='c007'><i>Perseverance.</i>—King Robert Bruce, the restorer of the
Scottish monarchy, being out one day reconnoitring the
enemy, lay at night in a barn belonging to a loyal cottager.
In the morning, still reclining his head on the pillow of
straw, he beheld a spider climbing up a beam of the roof.
The insect fell to the ground, but immediately made a
second essay to ascend. This attracted the notice of the
hero, who, with regret, saw the spider fall a second time
from the same eminence, It made a third unsuccessful attempt.
Not without a mixture of concern and curiosity,
the monarch twelve times beheld the insect baffled in its
aim; but the thirteenth essay was crowned with success:
it gained the summit of the barn; when the King, starting
from his couch, exclaimed, “This despicable insect has
taught me perseverance: I will follow its example. Have
I not been twelve times defeated by the enemy’s force? on
one fight more hangs the independence of my country.” In
a few days his anticipations were fully realized by the glorious
result to Scotland of the battle of Bannockburn.</p>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>THE WEEK.</h2>
</div>
<div class='illo-wide'>
<div class='figcenter id001'>
<a href='images/the-week-full.jpg'><img src='images/the-week-inline.png' alt='' class='ig001'></a>
<div class='ic001'>
<p>[John Hunter.]</p>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c007'>July 14.—On this day, in the year 1728, was born at
Kilbride, in the county of Lanark, Scotland, the celebrated
<span class='sc'>John Hunter</span>, one of the greatest anatomists of
modern times. The early life of this remarkable man
formed a strange introduction to the scientific eminence
to which he eventually attained. His father having
died when he was about ten years old, he seems scarcely,
after this, to have received any further school education;
but was allowed to spend his time as he liked, till at
last he was bound apprentice to a cabinet-maker in
Glasgow, whom one of his sisters had married. After
some time, however, this person failed—an event which
was probably regarded at the moment as a severe
family misfortune; but it turned out a blessing in disguise.
Hunter’s brother, William, who was ten years
older than himself, had, after overcoming the difficulties
arising from the expenses of a medical education at
the University of Edinburgh, shortly before this settled
in London, and was already fast bringing himself into
notice. To him John applied when he found himself
<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>thrown out of any means of obtaining a living. He
requested his brother, who was then delivering a course
of lectures on anatomy, to take him as an assistant in
his dissecting-room—and intimated that if this proposal
should not be accepted he would enlist as a soldier. His
brother, in reply, invited him to come to London. This
was in September, 1748, when he was in his twenty-first
year. Never, perhaps, did any learner make a more
rapid progress than John Hunter now made in his new
study. Even his first attempt in the art of dissection
indicated a genius for the pursuit; and such was the
success which rewarded his ardent and persevering
efforts to improve himself, that after about a year he was
considered by his brother fully competent to take the
management of a class of his own. His subsequent rise
entirely corresponded to this promising commencement.
It was not long before he took his place in the front rank
of his profession, and had at his command its highest
honours and emoluments. The science of anatomy, however,
continued to be his favourite study; and in this he
acquired his greatest glory. Not only the chief portion
of his time, but nearly the whole of his professional gains,
were devoted to the cultivation of this branch of knowledge.
One of the principal methods to which he had
recourse in order to throw light upon the structure of
the human frame, was to compare it with those of the
various inferior animals. Of these he had formed a
large collection at his villa at Earl’s Court, Brompton;
“and it was to him,” says Sir Everard Home, “a favourite
amusement in his walks to attend to their actions
and their habits, and to make them familiar with him.
The fiercer animals were those to which he was most
partial, and he had several of the bull kind from different
parts of the world. Among these was a beautiful
small bull he had received from the Queen, with which
he used to wrestle in play, and entertain himself with its
exertions in its own defence. In one of these conflicts
the bull overpowered him, and got him down; and had
not one of the servants accidentally come by, and frightened
the animal away, this frolic would probably have
cost him his life.” The same writer relates that on
another occasion “two leopards that were kept chained
in an outhouse, had broken from their confinement, and
got into the yard among some dogs, which they immediately
attacked. The howling this produced alarmed
the whole neighbourhood. Mr. Hunter ran into the
yard to see what was the matter, and found one of them
getting up the wall to make his escape, the other surrounded
by the dogs. He immediately laid hold of them
both, and carried them back to their den; but as soon as
they were secured, and he had time to reflect upon the
risk of his own situation, he was so much affected that
he was in danger of fainting.” Mr. Hunter’s valuable
museum of anatomical preparations was purchased by
Parliament after his death for £15,000; and it is now
deposited in the hall belonging to the Royal College of
Surgeons, in Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields, where the public are
admitted to view it on the order of any member of the
society. This distinguished person died suddenly on the
16th of October, 1793, in the sixty-sixth year of his age.</p>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>THE LABOURERS OF EUROPE.—No. 1.</h2>
</div>
<div class='subtitle'>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c003'>
<div>[ITALY.]</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c004'>The condition of the Italian labourers varies in the different
states. The following accounts are from the best
authorities:—</p>
<p class='c004'>“The labourers in Lombardy (the most fruitful
region in Italy) have remained, throughout all the
changes of government, what they were before 1796, the
servants of those whose lands they work; none have
become proprietors. Before the revolution of 1796 the
greater part of the land was in the hands of the high
nobility and the clergy. Now it is partly in the possession
of a small number of shrewd speculators who have
known how to take advantages of political changes to
enrich themselves. But the peasants have not been
benefited by the change. They are still, not by law but
by necessity, bound to the soil, in a state of degradation,
all their food consisting of a sort of bread made of
Indian corn flour, of beans and weak sour wine; they
seldom taste meat. Those who are employed on the
rice-grounds are still more wretched. They are obliged
to remain for hours with their legs in marshy water, and
this engenders a cutaneous disease known by the name
of <i>pellagra</i>, which they generally neglect until they lose
the use of their limbs and are obliged at last to go to the
hospital where many of them die<a id='r2'></a><a href='#f2' class='c005'><sup>[2]</sup></a>.”</p>
<p class='c004'>In the ‘Letters from the North of Italy,’ by Mr. S.
Rose, the writer describes the following scene of misery,—one
out of a thousand:—“A few days ago I saw a
poor infant lying under a sack in the convulsions of an
ague fit, and the next morning meeting another child
whom I knew to be his brother, I asked him ‘How does
your brother do?’ to which he answered; ‘Which
brother, sir?’—‘Your brother that has the fever.’—‘There
are five of us with the fever, sir.’—‘Where do
you sleep?’—‘In an empty stable, sir.’—‘Where are
your father and mother?’—‘Our mother is dead, and
our father begs or does such little chance jobs as offer
in the hotel.’—‘And what do you do?’—‘I get up the
trees here and pick vine leaves for the waiters to stop
the decanters with, and they give us our panada.’ This
is bread boiled in water with an infusion of oil or butter.
Had my pecuniary means been adequate to my desire
to diminish this mass of misery, how was the thing to
be accomplished? I do not believe that I could have
found a family that would have boarded these melancholy
little mendicants, and am quite sure that no one
would have had the patience to bear with the waywardness
of sickly childhood. In England the parish workhouse,
or some neighbouring hospital, would have offered
a ready resource. There are hospitals indeed here,
but these are so thinly scattered (except those in the
Roman States which are both numerous and magnificent),
and are administered on such narrow principles,
exclusive of particular diseases and particular ages, and
always turning upon some miserable question of habitancy,
within very confined limits, that they are usually
insufficient to the purposes I have mentioned.” This
was written from the Venetian States some twelve years
ago, since which time workhouses have been introduced
into some of the principal towns.</p>
<p class='c004'>In Tuscany the peasantry are much better off. Labourers’
wages are there between ninepence and a shilling
a day, which, considering the low price of provisions,
and the mildness of the climate, is comparatively a good
remuneration. The women earn money by plaiting
straw, out of which the Leghorn hats are made. The
farmers are either small proprietors themselves, or, if
tenants, share the produce with their landlord, who
stocks the farm and provides half the seeds and implements.
This mode of holding land by persons not possessing
capital is very ancient;—and is now called by
writers on political economy, <a id='tn-metayerrent'></a>“Metayer Rent.”</p>
<p class='c004'>Of the peasantry of the provinces of Bologna and
Romagna, commonly called the Legations, and placed
under the sovereignty of the Pope, we have the following
interesting account in Simond’s Travels in Italy:—“The
peasants are not proprietors and have not even
a lease of their farms, but hold them from father to son
by a tacit understanding most faithfully observed. The
same roof often contains thirty or forty persons,—different
branches of the same family, with one common interest,
and governed by a chief who is chosen by themselves
and is the sole person responsible to the landlord. He
directs all without doors and his wife all within; one or
two other women take care of all the children that the
fathers and mothers may go to work. <i>We have lost a
<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>child during the night</i>, said one of them who was not
herself a mother. There reigns in general a most perfect
harmony in this patriarchal family. When the
chief becomes too old, or otherwise incapable, another
is chosen who succeeds alike to the engagements and
power of his predecessor. He gives half the produce
to the landlord, and pays half the taxes. The
landlord seldom takes the trouble to inspect the divisions;
he chooses only between the heaps laid out by
the tenant, and the grain is carried home. The same
plan is observed with the hemp, which is not divided
till it is pounded and put up into packets. As to the
grapes, they are picked into large barrels, and an equal
number sent to the farm-house and to the landlord, an
operation generally intrusted wholly to the farmer.
There are few villages, each farm-house being on the
farm. These family associations live much at their
ease, but have little money; they consume much of
their own produce and buy and sell very little. They
have a great deal of poultry for home consumption.
The women spin and plait and can even dye. The
country diversions go little beyond the game of bowls:
they have no dances and no merry-meetings, but in
lieu they have fine processions with music, discharge of
cannon, and sometimes horse-races. Though wine is
very plentiful, a drunken man is a rarity; there are few
bloody quarrels, and few thefts, at least domestic ones.
The roads are safer here than in the Milanese, notwithstanding
the Austrian police of the latter, for there the
farms are large and the work is done by poor labourers
who have no tie; while here the tenants work for themselves,
are at ease, and have no temptation. The education
of the people is intrusted to the priests, who give
themselves little trouble, and very few peasants can read
or write. Each large family generally consecrates a son
to the Church; they call him priest Don Peter, Augustin,
&c., and he becomes the oracle of the family, but
<a id='tn-allbroken'></a>all intimate ties with him are broken and he is called
‘brother’ no more.”</p>
<p class='c004'>The hardy natives of the Genoese coast, hemmed in
between the mountains and the sea, resort mostly to
maritime occupations, in order to better their fortunes.
Their voyages are generally short, being chiefly confined
to the Mediterranean. By strict economy and frugality
they save the best part of their earnings which they
bring home to their families; who, during their absence,
are employed in cultivating their gardens and lemon-trees,
or in fishing. By these joint exertions, a numerous
population is thriving on a barren soil; and the
whole line of the Riviera, or shore, for hundreds of miles,
presents a succession of handsome bustling towns and
villages, inhabited by a cheerful, healthy, and active race.</p>
<p class='c004'>Of the peasantry of Southern Italy and their condition
we shall speak on a future occasion.</p>
<hr class='c006'>
<div class='footnote' id='f2'>
<p class='c004'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. Amministrazione del regno d’Italia.</p>
</div>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>ART OF SWIMMING.</h2>
</div>
<div class='subtitle'>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c003'>
<div>[Written by Dr. Franklin to a Friend.]</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c004'>“Choose a place where the water deepens gradually,
walk coolly into it till it is up to your breast, then turn
round, your face to the shore, and throw an egg into
the water between you and the shore. It will sink to
the bottom, and be easily seen there, if your water is
clear. It must lie in water so deep as that you cannot
reach it up but by diving for it. To encourage yourself
in order to do this, reflect that your progress will be
from deeper to shallower water, and that at any time
you may by bringing your legs under you and standing
on the bottom, raise your head far above the water.
Then plunge under it with your eyes open, throwing
yourself towards the egg, and endeavouring by the
actions of your hands and feet against the water to get
forward till within reach of it. In the attempt you
will find, that the water buoys you up against your inclination;
that it is not so easy a thing to sink as you
had imagined; that you cannot but by active force get
down to the egg. Thus you feel the power of the water
to support you, and learn to confide in that power;
while your endeavours to overcome it, and reach the
egg, teach you the manner of acting on the water with
your feet and hands, which action is afterwards used in
swimming to support your head higher above water
or to go forward through it. I would the more earnestly
press you to the trial of this method, because
though I think I satisfied you that your body is lighter
than water, and that you might float in it a long time
with your mouth free for breathing, if you put yourself
in a proper posture and would be still and forbear
struggling; yet till you have obtained this experimental
confidence in the water, I cannot depend on your having
the necessary presence of mind to recollect that posture
and the directions I gave you relating to it. The
surprise may put all out of your mind. For though we
value ourselves on being reasonable creatures, reason and
knowledge seem on such occasions to be of little use to
us; and the brutes, to whom we allow scarce a glimmering
of either, appear to have the advantage of us.
I will, however, take this opportunity of repeating those
particulars to you, which I mentioned in our last conversation,
as, by perusing them at your leisure, you may
possibly imprint them so in your memory as on occasions
to be of some use to you. 1st. That though the
legs, being solid parts, are specifically something heavier
than fresh-water, yet the trunk, particularly the upper
part, from its hollowness, is so much lighter than water,
as that the whole of the body taken together is too light
to sink wholly under water, but some part will remain
above, until the lungs become filled with water, which
happens from drawing water into them instead of air,
when a person in the fright attempts breathing while
the mouth and nostrils are under water. 2ndly. That
the legs and arms are specifically lighter than salt-water,
and will be supported by it, so that a human body
would not sink in salt-water, though the lungs were
filled as above, but from the greater specific gravity of
the head. 3rdly. That therefore a person throwing
himself on his back in salt-water, and extending his
arms, may easily lie so as to keep his mouth and nostrils
free for breathing; and by a small motion of his
hands may prevent turning, if he should perceive any
tendency to it. 4thly. That in fresh-water, if a man throws
himself on his back near the surface, he cannot long
continue in that situation, but by proper action of his
hands on the water. If he uses no such action, the
legs and lower part of the body will gradually sink till
he comes into an upright position, in which he will continue
suspended, the hollow of the breast keeping the
head uppermost. 5thly. But if, in this erect position,
the head is kept upright above the shoulders, as when
we stand on the ground, the immersion will, by the
weight of that part of the head that is out of water,
reach above the mouth and nostrils, perhaps a little
above the eyes, so that a man cannot long remain suspended
in water with his head in that position. 6thly.
The body continuing suspended as before, and upright,
if the head be leaned quite back, so that the face looks
upwards, all the back part of the head being then under
water, and its weight consequently in a great measure
supported by it, the face will remain above water quite
free for breathing, will rise an inch higher every inspiration,
and sink as much every expiration, but never so
low as that the water may come over the mouth. 7thly.
If therefore a person unacquainted with swimming, and
falling accidentally into the water, could have presence
of mind sufficient to avoid struggling and plunging, and
to let the body take this natural position, he might continue
long safe from drowning till perhaps help would
come. For as to the clothes, their additional weight
while immersed is very inconsiderable, the water supporting
<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>it, though when he comes out of the water, he
would find them very heavy indeed. But, as I said
before, I would not advise you or any one to depend
on having the presence of mind on such an occasion,
but learn fairly to swim, as I wish all men were taught
to do in their youth; they would, on many occurrences,
be the safer for having that skill, and on many more
the happier, as freer from painful apprehensions of
danger, to say nothing of the enjoyment in so delightful
and wholesome an exercise. Soldiers particularly should,
methinks, all be taught to swim; it might be of frequent
service either in surprising an enemy, or saving
themselves. And if I had now boys to educate, I should
prefer those schools (other things being equal) where
an opportunity was afforded for acquiring so advantageous
an art, which, once learned, is never forgotten.”</p>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>THE STORMY PETREL.</h2>
</div>
<div class='illo-wide'>
<div class='figcenter id001'>
<a href='images/the-stormy-petrel-full.jpg'><img src='images/the-stormy-petrel-inline.png' alt='A petrel flying over the sea.' class='ig001'></a>
</div>
</div>
<div class='subtitle'>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c003'>
<div>[From ‘English Song and other Poems, by Barry Cornwall.’]</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='lg-container-b'>
<div class='linegroup'>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>A thousand miles from land are we,</div>
<div class='line'>Tossing about on the roaring sea;</div>
<div class='line'>From billow to bounding billow cast,</div>
<div class='line'>Like fleecy snow on the stormy blast:</div>
<div class='line'>The sails are scattered abroad, like weeds,</div>
<div class='line'>The strong masts shake, like quivering reeds,</div>
<div class='line'>The mighty cables, and iron chains,</div>
<div class='line'>The hull, which all earthly strength disdains,</div>
<div class='line'>They strain and they crack, and hearts like stone</div>
<div class='line'>Their natural hard proud strength disown.</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>Up and down! up and down!</div>
<div class='line'>From the base of the wave to the billow’s crown,</div>
<div class='line'>And amidst the flashing and feathery foam</div>
<div class='line'>The Stormy Petrel finds a home,—</div>
<div class='line'>A home, if such a place may be,</div>
<div class='line'>For her who lives on the wide wide sea,</div>
<div class='line'>On the craggy ice, in the frozen air,</div>
<div class='line'>And only seeketh her rocky lair</div>
<div class='line'>To warm her young, and to teach them spring</div>
<div class='line'>At once o’er the waves on their stormy wing!</div>
</div>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>O’er the deep! O’er the deep!</div>
<div class='line'>Where the whale, and the shark, and the sword-fish sleep,</div>
<div class='line'>Outflying the blast and the driving rain,</div>
<div class='line'>The Petrel telleth her tale—in vain;</div>
<div class='line'>For the mariner curseth the warning bird</div>
<div class='line'>Who bringeth him news of the storms unheard!</div>
<div class='line'>Ah! thus does the prophet, of good or ill,</div>
<div class='line'>Meet hate from the creatures he serveth still:</div>
<div class='line'>Yet he ne’er falters:—So, Petrel! spring</div>
<div class='line'>Once more o’er the waves on thy stormy wing!</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<div>
<h2 class='c002'>GOOD OLD TIMES.</h2>
</div>
<div class='subtitle'>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c003'>
<div>[From ‘Combe’s Constitution of Man.’]</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c004'>A gentleman who was subject to the excise laws fifty
years ago described to me the condition of his trade at that
time. The excise officers, he said, regarded it as an understood
matter that at least one half of the goods manufactured
were to be smuggled without being charged with duty;
but then, said he, “they made us pay a moral and pecuniary
penalty that was at once galling and debasing. We were
required to ask them to our table at all meals, and
place them at the head of it in our holiday parties; when
they fell into debt, we were obliged to help them out of it;
when they moved from one house to another, our servants
and carts were in requisition to perform this office, and by
way of keeping up discipline upon us, and also to make a
show of duty, they chose every now and then to step in and
detect us in a fraud and get us fined; if we submitted
quietly, they told us that they would make us amends by winking
at another fraud, and generally did so; but if our indignation
rendered passive obedience impossible, and we spoke
our mind of their character and conduct, they enforced the
law on us, while they relaxed it on our neighbours, and
these being rivals in trade undersold us in the market, carried
away our customers, and ruined our business. Nor
did the bondage end here. We could not smuggle without
the aid of our servants, and as they could, on occasion of
any offence given to themselves, carry information to the
head-quarters of excise, we were slaves to them also, and
were obliged tamely to submit to a degree of drunkenness
and insolence that appears to me now perfectly intolerable.
Farther, this evasion and oppression did us no good, for all
the trade were alike, and we just sold our goods so much
cheaper the more duty we evaded, so that our individual
success did not depend upon superior skill and superior
morality in making an excellent article at a moderate price,
but upon superior capacity for fraud, meanness, sycophancy,
and every possible baseness. Our lives were anything
but enviable. Conscience, although greatly blunted
by practices that were universal and viewed as inevitable,
still whispered that they were wrong; our sentiments of
self-respect very frequently revolted at the insults to which
we were exposed, and there was a constant feeling of insecurity
from the great extent to which we were dependent
upon wretches whom we internally despised. When the
government took a higher tone and more principle, and
greater strictness in the collection of the duties were enforced,
we thought ourselves ruined; but the reverse has been
the case. The duties, no doubt, are now excessively burdensome
from their amount, but that is their least evil. If
it was possible to collect them from every trader with perfect
equality, our independence would be complete, and our
competition would be confined to superiority in morality and
skill. Matters are much nearer this point now than they
were fifty years ago, but still they would admit of considerable
improvement.”</p>
<div class='c003'></div>
<hr class="divider">
<p class='c007'><i>Arab Account of Debtor and Creditor.</i>—Corporal punishments
are unknown among the Arabs. Pecuniary fines are
awarded, whatever may be the nature of the crime of which
a man is accused. Every offence has its fine ascertained in
the court of justice, and the nature and amount of those
graduated fines are well known to the Arabs. All insulting
expressions, all acts of violence, a blow however slight,
(and a blow may differ in its degree of insult according to
the part struck,) and the infliction of a wound, from which
even a single drop of blood flows, all have their respective
fines fixed. The judge’s sentence is sometimes to this
effect:—(Bokhyt and Djolan are two Arabs who have
quarrelled and fought.)</p>
<p class='c004'>Bokhyt called Djolan “a dog.” Djolan returned the
insult by a blow upon Bokhyt’s arm; then Bokhyt cut
Djolan’s shoulder with a knife. Bokhyt therefore owes to
Djolan—</p>
<table class='table0' id='camel1'>
<colgroup>
<col class='colwidth70'>
<col class='colwidth29'>
</colgroup>
<tr>
<td class='c008'>For the insulting expression</td>
<td class='c009'>1 sheep</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'>For wounding him in the shoulder</td>
<td class='c009'>3 camels</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p class='c004'>Djolan owes to Bokhyt—</p>
<table class='table0' id='camel2'>
<colgroup>
<col class='colwidth70'>
<col class='colwidth29'>
</colgroup>
<tr>
<td class='c008'>For the blow upon his arm</td>
<td class='c009'>1 camel</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c008'>Remain due to Djolan, 2 camels and 1 sheep.</td>
<td class='c009'> </td>
</tr>
</table>
<div class='c010'><cite>Burckhardt’s Notes on the Bedouins and Wahabys.</cite></div>
<hr class='c011'>
<div class='colophon'>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c012'>
<div>⁂ The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c001'>
<div>LONDON:—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST.</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c001'>
<div><i>Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied Wholesale by the following Booksellers, of whom, also, any of the previous Numbers may be had:—</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.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Bath</i>, <span class='sc'>Simms</span>.</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>Carlisle</i>, <span class='sc'>Thurnam</span>; and <span class='sc'>Scott</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Derby</i>, <span class='sc'>Wilkins</span> and <span class='sc'>Son</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Falmouth</i>, <span class='sc'>Philip</span>.</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 <span class='sc'>Newsome</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Lincoln</i>, <span class='sc'>Brooke</span> and <span class='sc'>Sons</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>Liverpool</i>, <span class='sc'>Willmer</span> and <span class='sc'>Smith</span>.</div>
<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>Norwich</i>, <span class='sc'>Jarrold</span> and <span class='sc'>Son</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Nottingham</i>, <span class='sc'>Wright</span>.</div>
<div class='line'><i>Sheffield</i>, <span class='sc'>Ridge</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-goldenrule'>p. 139</a>: Added period after heading “A Golden Rule.”
</li>
<li><a href='#tn-industryor'>p. 139</a>: Added period after phrase “which is the best master to
serve—<span class='fss'>INDUSTRY</span> or <span class='fss'>IDLENESS</span>.”
</li>
<li><a href='#tn-metayerrent'>p. 142</a>: Replaced closing single quotation mark with closing double
quotation mark after phrase “Metayer Rent.”
</li>
<li><a href='#tn-allbroken'>p. 143</a>: Added closing double quotation mark after phrase “all intimate
ties with him are broken and he is called ‘brother’ no more.”
</li>
</ul>
</div>
<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76897 ***</div>
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