b1629371X_0103_021

Leisure Hour, A Family Journal of Instruction and Recreation, No. 103
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 1853.

WANTED, A GOVERNESS.
CflAP. Ic.—My CIIBISTMAS OLIDT.
IT was only by degrees that the painful knowledge
of tile low ostiute in which I was held in tile
household broke upon me. Surely, thought I, as
I went up with my little senolars to bed, utter tea
was over, that night—surely this cannot last long—
this perpetual banishment from social intercourse—
this loneliness in a domestic circle.
There were two or three visitors OflC eVeflifl!
soon after my arrival, and as no one had addressed
a word to me during tea-time I had ventured—a
bold venture those will say who understand the
rule for governesses’ conduct—to address a few
words to a young lady who sat near me at the
tea-table. It was a passing remark; I forget at this distance of time what it was, but in a moment the eye of Mrs. Serle rested on me. There was no mistaking its expression. “How dare you enter into conversation—you, the governess 7” it said; but with a little of the spirit of contradiction, and with more than a little of the spirit of pride, I went on talking, the young lady too in a condescending sort of way replying. Very empty and very ignorant was this young lady. At home, and in my days of independence, I should have thought it an intellectual condescension (remember, I am a faithful autobiographer, and must record my weaknesses) to converse with her, or any of her tlass of nothing arians. Very wrong, very foolish, as I have since known; but so it was. When the aerrant removed the tea-things, Mrs. Serle suddenly discovered that the children looked sleepy, and I was despatched with them to bed. How dreary was that evening hou! How my heart swelled and throbbed as I heard the sounds of mirth in the kitchen through my open school-room door; and the music and the song which reached me from below, of those who thought me—the educator oy ilsth’ children—beneath a word or a look from a guest at their table.
But setting self aside, I could not but discover how unfavourable were the effects of this line of treatment on the minds of my little pupils. tizzy, the eldest girl, had a little air of condescension about her, which was somewhat lling, and a pertness and want of respect which was a pretty close imitation of the conduct of her elders. She had been taught to consider governesses as necessary appendages to a household of respectability, but nothing’ rnorc. They were to -teach her—that was their business, their vocation. hey were paid for teaching her, and there the matter ended. Very good; so was the nurse paid for carrying baby; so was the coachman paid for dri’Eing the haeton; the gardener for tending the;ltoweas: I was on a par with the rest. I do not pretend to -say that all this was taught in so many ‘words to the children, but I maintain that such was the just inference which they might draw from the careless and cold neglect with which I was sytematically treat. say, the footman who stood behind his mistress chair, and the page who ran her errands, were far snore honoured persons, standing4n -relatio far less difficult and anomalous. I sat at their table, but was, in every sense of the word, “below the salt.” Better far to have partaken of my meals with the other dependents than to sit as an outcast at the family board.
On the evening of my bold attempt at conversation, as I was sitting mournfully in my lonely room at the allotted task of plain-work, to my great astonishment Mrs. Serle opened the door. The singing and music were going on below, and she bad absented herself for five minutes, she said, to have a little conversation with me.
I inclined my head to testify my readiness to
hear.
“Iiss Maitla9cl, I am on the whole satisfied with you; I think, considering your youth, that
you will do extremely well; the children are quiet
and well behaved: but I think it kinder to tell
you that your manners do not quite please me.
observe a forwardness in you in company which
will tell very much against you in your situation.” I almost gasped. I could not reply.
“Yes,” she said, answering my look of blank dismay; “it is not customary for persons in your situation to enter into conversation, unless especially addressed. Of course I overlook it as the result of ignorance, but I hope you will be careful for the future.”
I replied, with more spirit than judgment, that if I must sit dumb I would rather not enter the drawing-room at all, and that I thought it had a most injurious influence over the children to see me treated with neglect and coldness.
I was told that I was young and ignorant, that it was what all governesses had to expect, and that my notions were absurd and vastly above my station.
I cried myself to sleep that night upon my pillow, and many bitter thonghts were in my heart when I arose next day, making me irritable with the children and cold and dispirited over their studies. Still I never qaite forgot the advice of my railway companion, and thought truly that this was the time to prove the truth of her words, “Duty, not pleasure, must be your object in life.”
So time passed on. The little girl in the kitchen who helped the cook, and worked morning, noon, and night, often compelled to hear rough words and sharp rebukes, led a happier life than mine; for she was not doomed to perpetual silence, audhad, at least, sympathy and companionship after her day’s hard labour, and could enjoy with her fellow-servants the laugh and the merry jest at her .socinl-mel.
I went to my situation 1n March, and at midsulilmer I asked, rather naturally, for my holidays but it was “ out of theuestion,” Mrs. Serle said. The children were going to the sea-side, and I should be indispensable. She did not give midsummer holidays. Summer passed away and autumn teo,nd my heart grew light as I thought of reunion with the home ones at Christmas. Once, and once only, had my niot.herJeeuto see me; but I could not, gentle woman as abe was, esic Jier to repeat the yisit. She wasnot proud, I ]snaw; but Iliad no qniet room of ny own to ask her-to enter, ud the slighting way -in which she
-was trea4ad by both mistress and servants seemtd to have touched her to the quick—not for her own sake, but for mine.
Yes, Christmas was at band. My hcahih, amevei robust, had given way under the immense exertion which I had to undergo. I speak advisedly when I say that, after the lapse of some years, and acquaintance with duty and exertion of many kinds, I consider my daily work to have been beyond the strength of any solitary young female in the world. My desire was still fervent to be faithful to my trust; the spirit was willing—willing, at least, as any crushed spirit could be—but the dccli was weak. So, as Christmas drew near, I began to wonder that, amid preparations for festivity and’ mirth, my holidays were never alluded to. I at last mustered courage to ask Mrs. Serle what day
I might go home. She looked astonished,
“Miss Maitland, I think it a great want of eon-
sideration in you to ask such a thing. My house
will be full of company, and you will be really want-
ad here. My eldest daughters are both coming
home from school, and I shall be quite overdone;
pray, do not think of such a titing. I will spare
you at Easter.
I said, and very truly, that I should be sorry to
disoblige her; but that I felt ill, that I wanted
change, that my appetite and my spirits had failed
me latterly, and that I really feared to go on in
my present mode of life without relaxation,
She turned coldly on me, and said: “If you are
not satisfied with your very easy situation, Miss
Maitlaud, you know the remedy; and I hope 3’on
will feel no difficulty in adopting it. hundreds
would be thankful to step into your place. ‘
I left the room in tears—tears too common with
me now—and wrote the hard truth home, that my
place at the Christmas hearth must be vacant, for
I could not be there this year.
I had a letter by the next post—a wise, tender
letter it was—from my another. Site gave me
just the comfort I needed, and tried to inspirit me.
One thing she said, which bore a little consolation
it : “It is a happy tlnng to be useful, my
darling Emilie. Some people in the world would
never be missed, if they went to bed at night and
came down stairs no more until mid-day. There
is a compliment implied in those words, ‘I cannot
spare you.’ You ask anxiously for Agnes. I can.
not say that she is worse ; but she is weak and
delicate as a hot-house plant, and I sometimes
think that the Lord liath need of her in his Garden
of Paradise: but she has long looked thus, and we
cannot tell. Dear, dear child, are you then so
lonely P Remember who it is that can make the
desert rejoice and blossom as the rose, and can in
your lonely hours whisper messages of consolation
sweeter than aught that were ever breathed by
earthly voice. You cannot be desolate if you live
near to Him.” And then followed, like a plaintive
Christmas carol, all manner of good, holy, tender
thoughts, prayers, and wishes, meet for the joyous
season ; and so my mother bade me farewell. I
placed the letter under nay pillow that night, and
I dreamed of home-love and home-hearts again !
The house was indeed full to overflowing.
were put up in the school-room for me and
two of the children, as my own room, I was unceremoniously informed, was wanted for Miss Serle.
Lesson-books were laid aside, and I prepared for a
very busy, hard-working holiday. I cannot tell
you how my time passed in that festive season.
Fête succeeded fte, and there was an engagement
every day, either at home or abroad. Miss
Serle, just returned from a Parisian boarding-
school, and master Edward from Eton, did not
the very least contribute to the comfort of our
busy house. The law of consideration seemed
never to have been studied by them ; nay, it did
not appear that the very existence of such a law
was known in the villa at N—. I loved chil-
dren, and I was of an age to have entered heartily
into the amusements and enjoyments of Christmas,
bad I been treated with common kindness; but to
feel an outcast from those social gatherings—to sit mute when others talked and laughed around
me—to come and go like a moving statue—to
feel and to suffer without oue look or one expression
of sympathy, almost broke my young heart.
I was not in health, moreover; I was often
conscious of such lassitude that I have flung myself
on the bed, unable to undress until I had had
ten minutes’ rest. and then awoke chilled and
miserable, to spend the night in feverish, wakeful
restlessness. But my indisposition was looked
upon as temper. I had taken a severe cold, and
certainly my cough must have sounded plainly
enough in ears not quite indifferent; but it was
not convenient for me to be ill, and accordingly no
notice was taken of my indisposition.
The grand entertainment of the season was to be
on New Year’s eve, the anniversary of my pupil
Lizzy’s birth. There was to be music and dancing,
together with a supper on a scale of great magni.
ficence. I must get my cough well, for I was to
play polkas and waltzes for the junior part of the
company, and to make myself “generally useful.”
No one who has not witnessed the preparations
for such an evening can enter into the worry and
hurry, the flutter and the athdety, the irritation and
the heart-burning’ of the process. I was called
hither and thither that day, with most uncomprowith
mising demand. My talents as dressmaker, as
decker of the dessert, as shopper, and as general
helper, were all put in requisition. Yet I can
truly say that, with a word of sympathy, a look of
friendly, loving encouragement, I could have over-
come a larger amount of bodily fatigue and suffer-
ing than fell to my lot that day. Once, indeed,
Miss Serle, whose hair I was dressing, said to me,
“What a cough you have, Miss Maitland; do get
something for it. Mamrna”—speaking to her
mother, who at this moment entered the room—
“can you uot give Miss Maitland something?”
“Oh dear, yes. I am quite concerned,” said Mrs.
Serle; “have some gruel to-night, Miss Maitland;
I or, stay, take the key of the medicine chest and
get some squills.”
All this was said with an expression of as much
unconcern as ever sounded in human tones or
rested on human face. My heart was full, and I
did not reply. My tears fell fast on the fair young
head whose locks I was braiding, and she looked
up at me in the most innocent amaze possible.
“Why, you are crying! Don’t cry, Miss MaitBeds
land,” said Lizzy; who, pert as she was at times,
and inconsiderate, as was natural to her age and
the sad example constantly before her eyes, really
loved me. “Don’t cry on my birthday, dear Miss
Maitland; and I will promise you to be very good
and give no more trouble. I do love you.”
I kissed the child, and told her love was a pleafor
sent thing, and that liars would help me on. I
gave her a little birthday present, a few birthday
wishes, and then I proceeded to finish the decorain
tion of my other pupils before going to my own
simple toilette.
r i was to make tea for the young people in one
drawing-room, and to keep order in the little corn-
pany; and bard work it was to make myself heard,
for my voice was by this time almost gone. Soon
I was summoned to play. I often wonder iaow
how I got through that evening. It seems to me
still, as it seemed then, a dream. I was dizzy and had lain in his grave a hundred and four years,
stranger, revolving in a retrograde direction around faint and flushed by turns, and after playing until I could really play no more from exhaustion, it wa a great comfort to me to hear Edward Serle, the eldest son, say: “ Miss Maitland, you shall not sit here another moment; I noticed how ill you looked when you came into the drawing-room. Sit down on this sofa, and I will bring you some lemonade.”
I declined the sofa, and took a chair in a remote corner of the room. Never was nectar so refreshing as that draught of lemonade; but more refreshing to my weary heart, that thirsted for kindness and affection, was the voica of sympathy with which the lad—and lie was hut a schoolboy— addressed me. He could not help, lie said, looking at me, I looked so tired, so jaded ; and as I sipped my lemonade, and began to feel wonderfully revived, not more by the draught than by his kindness, he stood by anj talked, in a pleasant, sociable tone, of thiugs likely to interest me, until I warmed with the subject, and forgot that I was a governess. He had, on one or two occasions, spoken to me with more cordiality than any other member of the family, and on this evening my forlorn appearance might well have touched a harder heart than his.
I was aroused from my pleasing dream by a warning that my successor at the piano—a plain, good-humoured maiden aunt—was playing polkas in the time of funeral marches, and that it was impossible to dance to her music. Accordingly, a request, sounding very much like an order, was issued that I would resume my seat. Edward Serle, however, opposed the measure; and going straight up to Ins mother, who was seated amidst a gaily-dressed group, looking on with admiring eyes at her children’s light forms as they moved in the dance: “Mother,” lie said (he had only this Christmas dropped mamma), “poor Miss Maitlanci is so ill that I think she ought to go to bed.”
I trembled as I hoard him speak, and yet more so when I saw her bright eye light on me with an expression of anything but pity.
“She looked well and merry enough just now, when she was telling to you.”
Mamma !‘‘ said the lad, indignantly, and turned abruptly away.
With a heart swelling with shame amid indignation I returned to the piano, where I performed any part for the remainder of the evening.
I was dressing the next day at a later hour than usual, for we had all need of an extra time for repose, and my little pupils still slept, when the housemaid brought me up a pencil note from Mrs. Serle, informing me that she considered my manners much too free in company, and decidedly unbecorning my station; that she noticed with regret that I was much too forward with her son, who, I must remember, was coming to an age when great care and. deleacy of conduct were necessary
I know my lips must have curled at this. Edward Serle was but sixteen years of age, and I had never given lilm a thought or look but as a raw schoolboy who bad tormented me a little with his numerous schoolboy wants since his return, but whose good-humour had made my services comparatively easy to render. I crumpled the note in my hand, and prepared an indignant reply. But a few moments’ consideration decided me not to send it, and I proceeded to my morning duties too ill and stupefied by the last night’s fatigue, and a wearying couo-h and pain in my side, to care much about the matter. Rest! rest ! was whet I craved, and rest I must soon have, I felt persuaded, or I should sink. I made the breakfast as usual, and sat
unconcerned as I could beneath a volley of sharp angry glances, which were interrupted by Lizzy exclaiming
“Papa, do you know Miss Maitland coughed so last night that I could not bear to hear her. Do send for Dr. Hanson, papa.”
Mr. Serle looked very dignified, as much as to say, “The governess, well or ill, was not his afflur;” but a momentary glance at me altered the speech which hc was going to make, I suppose. I remember nothing more, however, except that the room swain and turned round with me, and that I awoke with my head on the housemaid’s arm, and the doctor was standing by my side.
“She must go to bed,” he said to Mrs. Serle, ccri usly; “there is every symptom of inflammation.”
“Had she not better go home? “ asked Mrs. Serle. The doctor looked aghast at the inhumanity of a proposal for which I could have blessed her. “You see the house is very full, and——”
“Oh yes, home, ironic,” I said faintly.” Pray, Dr. Hanson, send me home.”
My request must have been piteous indeed, for the doctor looked compassionately at me.
“You are too ill to travel alone,” lie said; “but if you really wish to go home, although, mind!
is certainly a risk on a day like this, with lungs in the condition of yours, I will go with you.”
I seized his hand, and grasping it with all my little strength, I couM only reiterate the words “ Take me home.”
My few worldly goods were for the most part left under Susan’s care, to be sent in the course of a few days; and with Lizzy crying over me
awaited Dr. Hanson’s return, who had promised to come for me in his carriage in time 1r the next train. Ill as I was, I could not refrain from pitying Mrs. Serle. She looked both ashamed and concerned. She was not deficient either in good sense or good feeling, and the teas’s stood in hr eyes as she bent over me. She was not, I repeat, naturally hard-hearted; but she had never learned the lesson, learned best in early life, of kind consideration fbr, and tender guardianship, of depend- ants. She would have blushed to own it in so many words; but her actions were daily and hourly proofs of a strange forgetfulness, that
governess was still a fellow-creature, and could feel and suffer.


THE HERSCHELS AT SLOUGH.
IT has not perhaps been to our national credit in time past, that the men who have been distinguished merely by connection with scenes of anal-tin 1 strife have enjoyed a larger measure of public admiration and gratitude, while their career has found a snore speedy chronicle, than those who have won distinction by enlarging the bounds of’ knowledge, promoting the interesting or useful sciences, and illustrating the grandeur of the universe. Especially have the lives of our physical inquirers been overlooked until a very recent date. Newton
Flamstead a hundred and sixteen, and Bradley
seventy years before Instice was done to their me-
mory i competent iograpliies from the pens of
Brewster Baily, and Rigaud. Though public
sentiment has immensely improved in its estimate
of the value of actions, yet the great self-taught
optician and astronomer of the last century, sir
William Herschel, still remains without a similarly
creditable record. The materials for it are abund-
ant, while his claims are undoubted, and few
more interesting volumes would be embraced by
our literature than a careful analysis of his im-
mensé labours, as lie sounded the remote profundi-
ties of the firmament and ranged unwearied among
its abysses. His mode of operation marks the oil-
ginal, philosophic, and great mind. Instead of
quarrelling with contemporaries, and contesting
received opinions, he proceeded unostentatiously
to examine for himself, mingling boldness with
modesty, a thirsting after large and general
views with the scrupulous observation of appear.
ances, and dutiful obedience to their intimations,
His rise forms a grand epoch in astronomy. Pre-
viously, all accessible space seemed to be eirum-
scribed by the planetary orbits, which constituted,
in general, effective bounds to scientific inquiry,
Astronomers had seldom ventured to grapple with
greater remoteness. They were much upon the
same level with rustic ignorance respecting the
farther heavens, content to gaze upon their objects,
admire their beauty, and confess their mystery,
Bat Herschel fearlessly, yet quietly, overleaped
the limits of his predecessors and contemporaries,
attempted to lay open the hitherto unexplored re-
cesses of the sidereal world, and succeeded to no
mean extent in lifting up the veil from its ceo-
nomy.
Without intending to trace the career of Her-
schel, a few particulars of his life may be given to
complete a sketch. 1-le was the second son of a
musician at Hanover, born November 15, 1738,
and brought sip to ins father’s profession. Being
placed in the band of a Hanoverian regiment of
guards, lie either caine over with it to England, or,
according to some accounts, arrived alone in quest
of fortune, when about twenty years of age, immediately before George us ascended the throne,
He settled successively at Durham, Halifax, and
l3ath, following his musical vocation, but turned
his attention to astronoiny in the latter city. Hay,
mg a strong mechanical genius, with some know.
ledge of optics, and being destitute of means to
purchase a telescope of adequate power, lie resolved
upon the construction of one with Ins own hands.
The earliest, a five-feet Newtonian reflector, with
which he observed the satellites of Jupiter and the
ring of Saturn, was completed in 1774. Herschel
was indefatigable in arming himself with instrumental austanee, and became in fact a telescope.
upon an extensive scale, not for profit, but
the better to se9 with his own eyes the wonders of
planetary ad sidereal space. In order to secure a
good instrument, lie finished an immense number
of specula, selecting the best for use. The labour
and anxiety involved in casting, grinding, and
polishing, can only be appreciated by those who
are practically acquainted with the processes. Al.
together, lie accomplished the Construction of two hundred speenla of seven-feet focus, one hundred
and fifty of ten-feet, and above eighty of twenty.
feet, besides a number of the Gregorian form,
amounting to a total of not less than five hun-
dred.
The telescope is widely removed, by its origin,
character, and field of operation, from all other me-
chanical contrivances. It cannot be considered as
the offspring of man’s wisdom and device, for it
was not, properly speaking, an invention. A Mid.
dleburgh maker of spectacles stumbled upon the
discovery, owing to his children directing his
attention to the enlarged appearance of the wea
ltered
thercock of a church, as accidentally seen through
two spectacle glasses, held between the fingers
some distance- apart. This was one of childhood’s
inadvertent acts, and seldom has there been a
parallel exampie of mighty results springing out
of so trivial a circumstance. It is strange to reflect
upon the playful pranks of infantile life being con
tion.”
nected in their issue, and at no distant date, with
telling the number of the stars, and revealing the
richness of the firmament ! Tue instrument was
further perfectly original in its intent and purpose.
The noblest monuments of human mechanics have
either been elaborated from designs supplied by
nature, or been extensions of already familiar
ideas. Thus the tiny shell of the Nautilus sailing
upon the ocean, and the leaf floating at random
upon its surface, are miniature resemblances of the
stately merchant vessel and man-of-wir, as to the
principle of their buoyancy. Long before balloons
rose in the atmosphere, and ascended above the
clouds, the schoolboy playing at bubbles indicated
the achievement of the aeronaut. The complex
steam-engine, with its hiss, scream, panting, and
colossal powers, had its germ in the boiling kettle
of the domestic hearth, and is only an expansion
of it. But the telescope, which summons into
view what without it would for ever remain in
i
visible, involved a principle altogether novel.
Experience knew no prototype of it. Nature offered
no analogy. Unlike, too, all other things of human
construction, its special province is remote and
celestial, though applicable to sublunary purposes.
Considerations of this kind establish for the telescope a high claim to admiration and esteem, as the
gift of Providence to the human lace, in the last
great cycle of their existence, intended to illustrate
the extent and magnificence of the universe. The
instrument had been known for a century and a
half before Herschel directed his attention to it,
but while in his hands the secret of its power and
magnitude was for the first time revealed.
At Bath, the city of fashion, while a humble
organist, lie discovered Uranus, on the night of the
13th of March, 1781, when examine sme small
stars in the constellation of the Twins. The new
body was at first suspected to be a comet, and, as
such, its existence was reported to Maskelyne, the
astronomer royal, by whom it was made known to
the continental astronomers. But it was soon per.
ceived to have a circular orbit, and to be in ct
another planet, revolving round the sun at the dis.
tance of eighteen hundred millions of miles, or
double that of Saturn, the most remote of the
planetary orbs before known. Subsequently, six
satellites were discovered in attendance upon the 
Caroline Lncretia Herschel, his sister, not oniy officiated as his amanuensis, but was also an assiduous independent observer at Slough. With a little Newtonian sweeper, of only twenty-seven inches focal length, she discovered various stellar clusters, and no fewer than five comets, or which that of 1795, in the constellation Cygnus, is now known as Eneke’s. This lady retired to Hanover, where she survived to the great age of ninetyseven, in the full enjoyment of her mental faculties. A well-earned tribute of respect was paid her by the Royal Astronomical Society in 1835, when she was constituted an honorary member of that body. The council stated, in a report to the general meeting, “That while the tests of astronomical merit should in no case be applied to the works of a woman less severely than to those of a man, the sex of the former should no longer be an obstacle to her receiving any acknowledgment which might be held due to the latter. Your council, therefore, recommends this meeting to add to the list of honorary members the names of Miss Caroline Herschel and Mrs. Somerville, of whose astronomical knowledge, and of the utility of the ends to which it has been applied, it is not necessary to recount the proofs” Miss Herschel died at Hanover, January 9 1848.
After an existence of rather more than half a century, Slough lost an object which had attracted hosts of visitors, and been viewed with curiocity by many a passing traveller. The frame of the instrument becoming decayed, through exposure to the weather, it was dismantled, an occasion whieh drew the following lines from sir John Herschel :— REQUIEM OF THE FORTY-FEET REFLECTOR
AT SLOUGH.
Sung on New Ycars Eve 1839-40.
In the old Telescope’s tube we sit,
And the shades of the past around us flit,
His iuiorn sing we with shout and din,
While the old year goes out, and the new comes in.
- Merrily, merrily, let us all sing,
And make the old Telescope rattle and ring.
Full fifty ymca did he laugh at the storm,
Andtbe blast could not shake his majestic form;
Now prone he lies where he once stood high,
Arid srch’d the deep heaven with his broad bright eye.
(Chorus.)
There are wonders no-living wight liath seen,
Winch withiii this hollew have pictured been;
Which mortal recordcan never recall,
And are known to Him only who made them all.
(Chorus.)
Here wateh’d our father the wintry night.
And his gaze bath been fed with pre-adarite light
While planets above him, in mystic dance
Sent down on his toils a propitious glance.
(Chorus.)
It has stretch’d it quietly down at length,
To bask in the star-light its giant strength-
And Time shall here a tough morsel find
For his steel-devouring teeth to grind.
(Chorus.)
He will grind it at last, as grind it be must
And its brass and its iron shall be clay and rust;
But scatheless ages shall pass away
And nurture its fame in its form’s decay.
(Chorus.)
A new year dawns, and the old year’s past,
May it be a happy one like the last!
A little more sun, and a little less rain,
‘I’o save us from sadness, sickness, and Pain.
(Chorus.)
Oh grant that its end this group may find,
In love and in harmony fondly join’d!
And that some of us, fifty years hence, once more
May make the -old Telescope’s echoes roar.
(Chrorus
Slough is now- chiefly known by the flight of railway trains and the-progresses of royalty sir John Herschel residing at Colliiigwood. But scientiflo records and beaU tradition will keep in, remembrance its long connection with the astronomy of England.

THE GREAT-MANED ANT-EATER; OR
ANT-BEAR.
EVEnT remarkable occurrence demands a date; and, in the scientific world, dates, as the student will soon find, are of great importance. It was, then, at the commencement of the month of October, 1853, that, after some delay, the Zoological Society of London added to the unrivalled vivariurn at Regent’s Park an animal from the intei-ior of Brazil, which, we believe, had never previously been imported alive into Europe. We allude to the great-maned ant-eater, than which no animal could be more acceptable to the zoologist.
Scarcely had the new corner to the Zoological Gardens been safely housed, and regularly installed as a member of the incorporated society of tho animal kingdom assembled there, than we felt ourselves bound to pay homage to the illustrious stranger, and take our stand before it with a salaam. The animal held its court in an apaa-t. mnent adjoining that wherein a juvenile chimpanzee, the captive scion of a powerful sept or clan oh the banks of the Quorra, holds his daily levee. As we entered, our olfactory nerves at once apprised us that the great Brazilian was by no means perfumed with attar of roses. If the truth is to be told, tho odour which saluted our nostrils was overpoweringly offensive, requiring a profusion of eau do Cologne in order to render it a little less intolerable. There was a crowd of spectators, and con. tinv.al use was made among them of handkerchiefs, scented or unscented. For ourselves, we were rcody to exclaim, in the words put by a great genius into the mouth of one of his characters, “An ounce of civet, good apothecary!” This odour was that of the natural cutaneous exudation of the animal.
On a bed of clean straw, in one corner of the apartment, lay the destroyer of ants, taking is mid-day siesta. Its appearance was indistinct, but reminded us of a large grey or giizzled Newfound. land dog, asleep in his kennel. On a closer scrutiny, the body seemed to be covered by a passaclee of long flowing hair; but this panache proceeded from the reverted tail, and was such as to form a good defence against the rays of the sun on the one hiand or the heavy shower on the other.
After waiting with commendable patience for half an hour, and observing no Signs of restoration to a state of activity, we betook ourselves to tho aquatic vivariiss, which, to our great satisfaction1 we found cred with visitors, mimng whom exclamations of delight and astonishment were in
constant repetition. There we passed a pleasant
hour, made many notes, and revelled in the contemplation of ocean’s animated wonders, At length we thought it best to return to the main object of our visit, hoping that the slumbers of the “ mound-leveller’ were passed away. But no, there the animal lay somnolent as before, and not a muscle moved. We began to get impatient, but plucked up good courage, and determined to wait cccii to the latest moment. Our resolution happily was soon rewarded. Leisurely, as if irresolute and scarcely thoroughly awake, up rose the stolid beast, the dread even of the terrible jaguar, and after sniffing the air—not with broad nostrils like the stag painted in the “Lady of the Lake,” but through littlt orifices at the end of a long, slender, tapering snout, for such it at first appeared—it moved forwards into full view. Then it was that the contour and proportions of this stranger from the swampy forests of Brazil were revealed to our sight, and that a murmur of surprise greeted its appearance. And well it might be so, for strange and eccentric was its aspect; it was such as would have enchanted Fuseli. Let us, however, before entering into details, here record our first impressions.
Before our eyes stalked forth, with heavy and deliberate steps, a creature of large size, taller or quite as tall as a very fine Newfoundland dog, but much longer in the proportion of the body to that of its height. Its covering was coarse, long, grizzled hair; a broad black stripe, narrowing as it proceeds, passed obliquely from the chest over each shoulder. The head, covered with close hair, looked in its lout ensemble, from the thick deep neck to its apex, like a long slender tube or proboscis, in strange contrast with the stupendous massiveness of the limbs. The eyes were small ; the ears, in a direct line and about one inch above them, were very close and rather rounded, but so little elevated that their precise form was not immediately obvious. A mane of very long hair rose over the withers, The tail—how shall we describe it? No Newfoundland dog, no setter, no retriever, ever
boasted of such a caudal appendage; no, not even
the famous dog of Aleibiades. It was as long or
longer than the whole body, and was evidesitly
stout and robust in bone and muscle at the
base. As the creature moved along, it was held in a line with the body, sometimes a little depressed, and at others a little elevated; but, even when raised, its panaciw (plume does not express the meaning) of densely-set, long, wiry hairs, from the base to the apex, swept the floor. The very weight of this alone, carried from the base to the extremity of the lever, cvi. dently indicated the vast development of the lumbar and supra-caudal muscles. No light feathery plume was it; but a massive, drooping, heavy fringe, capable of being thrown like a thatch over the body during repose.
The fore feet of the animal were armed with enormous hooked claws; but these, being doubled up close on the thick pad of the sole, were not at first visible, so that the fore feet looked like mere stumps rather than like fully formed feet, as did those of the binder limbs. The gait was heavy, but by no means slow or crawling; indeed, the animal is said to be capable of
moving along with considerable celerity. The
whole contour exhibited an appearance of great
massiveness and enormous muscular power, especially in the neck, chest, shoulders, and fore limbs, while the claws were well fitted for grappling, wrenching, and for rending asunder the solhsun— baked mud walls of the pyramids of the termite. Such were the generalities which forced themselves upon our notice. We will now proceed to a few details. Of the stature of the animal we have said enough. Let us begin with the head. The skull of this strange creature is modelled on the tubular principle. From the occiput (that is, the back portion of the fi’am c-work of the head) runs out a long trumpet-like projection, composed of the bones of the cranium and tI jaws. This long slender trumpet, or proboscis, ncloses in its singu. lal’ development all the organs of the senses, even that of tact, or especial feeling; for the nose, in this as in other instances, is the organ of tactivity.* The eyes of the animal were small, on a line with the cranial projection and, as it appeared to us, very inefficient by day-light. The iris, as we saw it, seemed very narrow, and of a dark liaelbrown and the pupil minute; but, when the shadows of evening descend over the wooded swamps of Brazil or Guiana, may not that pupil expand into a dark orb, bounded only by the little eyelids P Looking at the eyes with consideration, we registered them in our mind as organs formed for twilight or nocturnal vision. Little use, indeed, did the animal make of them when perambulating its apartments, as we shall soon demonstrate.
Now for the organs of hearing. We have described their external figure and position, close above the little eyes; but what shall we say of the animal’s hearing power P If sensibility to invocations loudly uttered could have awakened the sleeper through this medium, he must have responded to the call. “Seven sleepers “ are recorded in the works of the olden time; surely this comuolent Brazilian, taking its siesta, might be put down for the eighth it slept as an athlete. When aroused, however, it seemed even then almost dead to sounds and exclamations ; at least it noticed them not, and they passed by it as the dIe ivinci.
If sight was defective and hearing obtuse, the contrary appeared to be the case with the sense of smell—a fact which indeed might be inferred even from a consideration of the extension of the olfactory organs, carried along the upper portion of the tubular head from the space between the ears to the two little narrow terminal slits which represent the nostrils. Ever and anon the animal elevated its snout and sniffed the air, and when its Iceeper, a most careful and obhigin man, brought in a pan of milk, it followed him about with a stumping, bear-like gait, evidently directed rather by the sense of smell than of vision to the vessel which he carried in his hand. Moreover, it evidently knew its attendant, and indicated by projecting its snout to him when lie at first catered the apartment without anything in his hands, that the recognition chiefly depended upon the sense of smell. The animal allowed him to pat it, and seemed pleased with Ins notice; but it uttered no noise or cry so long as we stayed to observe it. This, however, proves nothing: it is said to utter, when pleased, a peculiar whine, and we have the highest authority for this fact.
From the sense of smell to that of taste the transition is direct. Let it here be premised that the ant-eater has no teeth ; it is therefore strictly ecleniae, as naturalists term it. The jaw-bones are long, slender, and feeble. The mouth is a little aperture at the end of the snout, and merely fitted for the protrusion of a long, rapier-like, glutinous tongue from its sheath; as the natural food of this animal consists principally of termite ants and their pupn—the latter more especially— this long viscous tongue is a most efficient instrument for such a purpose. For the crushing of such food teeth are riot needed, as it is swallowed without mastication, and doubtless with a copious flow of saliva. But we have yet to describe the animal’s tongue as it presented itself to our personal observation. We were contemplating the anteater while it sat up on its haunches, like a great dog, with its long snout elevated; suddenly from its mouth a thin, dark, purplish glossy stream, like that of treacle, seemed to flow, certainly to the extent of more than two feet. In this stream a slight vibration was perceptible, and then, as if its current suddenly retrograded, it glided upwards and rolled back through the mouth into its hidden fount. This stream was the tongue. Many times, both while the animal rested and while it traversed its apartment, was tlus exhibition repeated, and always with sufficient deliberation for the eye to follow out the u hole movement. We are assured, howeves-, that when employed in active service, a breach in the wall of an ants’ mound having been effected, the movements of tins organ are incalculably rapid, which we can readily believe.
As we have said, our Brazilian stranger followed the keeper, bearing in his hand a vessel of milk.* In a short time, having at our especial desire
tested the olfactory sense of the animal, he in-
dulged it with a good draught of the coveted
beverage. We expected to see it lap the fluid up
by some action of the tongue; perchance, dog-
like; perchance like that displayed when the organ
is inserted into the sinuosities of the termites’
mounds, and is drawn back laden with the his-
ciotis food. Not so, however: it simply applied
its tiny mouth to he milk, and sucked it up grit-
dually atid quietly, with the least possible percep-
tible sound. Not more delicately does the horse
sip its water from the trough, than did the ant-eater
its milk from the pan. A thought crossed our
mind at the time: how would the ant-eater manage
with boiled marrow-bones of beef? would not the
remarkable tongue be then displayed in full action?
For once, at least, the experiment might be worth
a trial, if only for the sake ef witnessing the action
of this organ.
It may seem at first snrrising that an animal s
bulky and massive as the ant-eater, can not only
ubsit, but kp up its muscular strength and
condition, on such diet as that afforded by white
ants or termites. The same observation applies
with even more force to the Greenland whale; but,
in each instance, we draw our deduction from
erroneous premises : we do not take into account
the extremely nutritiou quality of the food, and
the fact of its making up weight by the aggrega-
tion of a multitude of minute units, so is to
counterbalance that of mass in solidity. Myriads
upon myriads of tiny beings are daily devoured
both by the whale and the ant-eater. Termite
mounds characterize the haunts of the ant-eater,
and we have described its structural fitness for
demolishing these insect fitstnesses. It makes
short vork in opening a breach, and then its
tongue is brought into full play. Soon, however,
the startled termites, in order to escape the fate of
the myriads which first fell a sacrifice, take refuge
in the deeper and smaller galleries of the ruined
edifice. But vain are their efforts; their enemy
tears off hinge fragments of the galleried walls with
his strenuous claws, holds them firm with his left
paws, and leisurely breaks them tip with the right,
the tongue in the mean time performing its office
with celerity. When satiated, the ant-eater ceases
the work of destr’uction. It would appear that a
considerable quantity of the earthy materials of
the ants’ dome is swallowed along with the insects
and:Dr. Schomburglt supposes, perhaps
correctly, that this material aids digestion.
Furnished with its tail, which can be used as a penthouse, the ant-eater maices no nest or burrow,
but curls itself up, and is thus sufficiently protected
against the inclemency of the weather.
Though generally deliberate in its movements,
the ant-eater can push its pace into a peculiar trot,
or long gallop, and is then not easily overtaken;
indeed, it will keep a horse on the canter for up-
wards of half an hour, and by no means tires readily
itself.
The female possesses two pectoral teats, and
produces only one young, at a time, which soon
clings firmly to her back, and, thus attached, is
carried about with her during her rambles. It
remains under her care for the space of a year
and then shifts for itself. When pursued witl
her young ofle on her back, the mother seeks
safety in flight, and holds on her course till fairly
overtaken; she has indeed been known to keep a
horse on the full canter for half an hour. When
hard pressed, she aesumes a’ posture of defence,
raises herself upoiv her haunches, and, resting on
one fore paw, strikes withthe claws of the other at
her enemy, changing from the right to the left
limb, and vice versd, as the latter alters his position
of attick. The force of these blows is tremendous.
Should the danger increase, she throws herself
upon her back, and strikes with both claws at her
enemy. To the last moment the young one clings
to the mother. It is in this manner that she
receives her fierce opponent, the jaguar. Those
who had witnessed the fight, described it to Dr.
Sehomburgk as being very characteristic. There
is no yielding on the part of the ant-eater, and it
frequently happens that both combatants remain
dead upon the spot, or that one does not survive
the other many hours. “The force,” says Dr.
Schomburgk, “of the ant-eater is astonishing, and
I have no doubt that it is well able to rip up the
belly of its assailant.” He adds: “If the ant-
eater should succeed in throwing its arms round
its enemy, and fixing its claws in the flesh, nothing
can disengage it from its embrace; the muscles
grow stiff, and, as I have been told, without being
able to vouch for its veracity, in this situation both
animals die.”
When young individuals are captured, they at
first try to hide themselves, but, if approached,
put themselves into a resolute posture of defence,
growling at the same time like an irritated puppy.
That the ant-eater is capable of climbing has been
abundantly proved by Dr. Schomburgk, who witthemselves,
nessed this operation most adroitly performed
both by young ones and adults, the fore limbs being
used alternately, and one secured by means of the
claws before the other is advanced. From witness-
ing the agility thus displayed, Dr. Seliomburgk
expresses his conviction that, should circumstances
require it, these animals would climb trees with the
greatest readiness. Of the docilIty both of adults
and young, in a short time after their captnre the
following extracts from Dr. Scbomburg’k’s paper,
in the “ Proceedings of’ the Zoological Society,”
relative to another specimen of the ant-eater which
came under his notice, may not be uninteresting.
“It appeared to be of a very cold nature; not
only the extremities but the whole body felt cold
to the touch, although we kept it wrapped up in a
blanket. It preferred, however, to be nestled and
to be taken up, and on putting it down it emitted awhinin but not unpleasant sound; when it did
not succed in attracting attention, and was not
taken up a°ain the whining sound was raised to a
harsh and grating noise. In following a person,
it directed its course more by the smell than by
sight and carried its snout close to the ground.
If it found itself at fault, it wheeled round at right
anrdes upon the hind legs, and snuffed the air in
ahl”directions until it found the right scent again,
Of the dimness, of its sight we had various proofs;
it hurt itself frequently against objects that stood
in its way, not observing them till it. came in con-
tact with them. Its power of smelling was cx-
quisite, and it could discover its nurse, or any
person to whom it had taken a liking, at a con-
siderable distance. Upon these occasions it would
commence the whining sound so peculiar to t.hiis
animal. It was an expert climber. It happened
that I was one of its favourites, and whilst writing
on my table it used to come softly behind me,
and as soon as it was sure it had found me out, it
climbed up my legs with great dexterity. Out of
amusement we frequently held up its blanket, and
it climbed up its whole length.
“When the Indian woman was not present, or
otherwise occupied, and did not pet the young ant-
eater, she used to throw some of the clothes she
had worn or her own blanket before it, in which it
wrapped itself and was pacified. This effect could
not be produced by any other person’s clothes. It
showed its attachment by licking, and was very
gentle and even sportive: we all prized it highly.
It slept a great deal. We had it fi)r nearly two
months, and as it began to feed itself, we had
great hopes of rearing it; unfortunately we were
unable to procure milk, and whether in consequence
of the change of food, or some other cause, it
gradually declined. I found it sometimes as cold
as ice, and stiff; and, though I recovered it repeat-
edly, it died one day during soy absence.”
1-laying so far detailed the results of our personal
observations relative to this extraordinary specimen,
(introduced into the Gardens of the Zoological
Society at the cost of 2001., through the exertions
of the indeflitigable secretary of the Institution,)
it is our duty to express our thanks to the chief
superintendent of the vjvarium, for his kindness in
affording the writer every facility fbr a leisurely
survey of this singular creature, and for his coin-
phiance with our wishes in more than one instance,
-
OLD HUMPhREY’S VISIT TO BELVOHI
CASTL
CAsTLE-vISITING and castle-building are very
agreeable recreations: time one is performed on the
earth, the other in the ami-. Windsor, Warwick,
Keinlworth, Edinburgh, Stirling, and Dumbarton
are but a few of the frowning old fortresses which
have contributed to my gratification. I now,
however, have to speak of Belvoir Castle, iii Lei.
cestershire. “ Dash into your subject at once,”
says an author, “without wasting your time in a
wordy preamble, if’ your object be to interest your
reader, and not to show off your own cleverness.”
Ihus seasonably admornshed, I will at once dash
into my subject. Having no royal pageant to
parade, a flourish of trumpets will not be necessary. Being in the neighbourhood of this remarkable
building not a very long time ago, I set out to
walk towards it with my light partridge cane in
my hand, leaving one ‘I’homas Christmas, a very
civil man and careful driver, to overtake me with
the fly containing a gentleman and lady of. about
my own years, and a young friend of cheerful and
agreeable disposition. I found quite enough in
the walk agreeably to occupy my attention. Now
I was gazing up at the flights of starlings in the
air; now watching the blue or rather violet butter-
fly on the grassy ground; now inspecting the odd
forms eaten by insects on the gates and stiles; and
now regarding the deaf stone-breaker in the road,
and the harvest-people in the fields. Presently I
came in sight of Belvoir Castle, the most conspi
irly
cuous object in the distant prospect.
Few scenes are more pleasantly impressive than
this majestic castellated pile, standing on its corn-
manding eminence, embosomed in a forest of fo.
liage, stretching out far and wide, diversified with
spacious walks and opening glades. The building
is quadrangular, and the larger towers are sur
hon
mounted by smaller ones rising above them. ‘flie
numerous windows of the edifice of necessity urn
rself
part to it a modern appearance, for the narrow
slits of old fortresses were ill adapted for light and
cheerfulness.
The history of this castle may be given in a few
vods. The posterity of its founder held it to time
reign of Henry us, when by marriage it caine into
the keeping of Robert de Roos, and afteru’ards
into that of sir Robert Manners, of Etahl, in the
county of Northumberland; since which time i
has not passed from the latter family, its present
owner being John Henry Manners, duke of Rut-
laud, K. G. During the cruel wars of York and
Lancaster. many a rude attack did the castle en.
dure, and many a warlike sally was made from its
massy walls; but, at last, it was ravaged and laid
partly in ruins. In time reign of Henry viii,
Thomas Manners, lord Roos, the first earl of
Rutland, restored it, and the second earl also
greatly extended it; but, during the unhappy war
between king Charles and the Parliament, it again
became, seat of strife and contention. Each
party when successful garrisoned it, and in these
rude changes it suffered much. The rough usages
of iron-handed tvar left traces behind it—traces of
desolation.
The castle was again repaired after the Restora
ed tion in 1668, but it did not attain its present mag
ing
umficence till it came iiito possession of its present
owner. The outwork, called Staunton Tower, time
chief stronghold of the castle, is exceedingly im
Tgld
posing. The command of it is held by the üimily
of Staunton, which, by tenure of castle-guard,
were anciently required to appear with soldiers fbr
the defence of this strong post in ease of danger.
It has been the custom ehen any of the ro3’mil
family have honoured Belvoir Castle with their
presence, for the chief of the Staunton family per
ch
sonally to appear, and present the key of the strong-
hold to such distinuished personae.
In the year 1816, Oct. 2t.h, a fearful fire gained
the ascendancy over this princely dwelling and
nearly destroyed it. The grand staircase, picture
nd
gallery, and part of the pictures were burnt; “The
mnassy golden salver, composed of tributary tokens of royal and public respect for national services performed by the Rutland family,” was fortunately preserved. Notwithstanding this calamitous disaster, the castle now even exceeds its former beauty and magnificence. The following is a part of the grateful memorial of the duke with regard to this distressing calamity, in which it is said property to the extent of a hundred and twenty thousand pounds was destroyed. “The principal part of the plate and more than one half of the collection of pictures were saved, and a mercy of still greater value and importance was bestowed upon the duchess and me (then absent at Cheveley Park), in the preservation of our five dear children, and of the whole family in the castle. So true is it that even in his just chastisements an Almighty God is merciful, and that his severest dispensations possess sources of comfort to the mind of a Christian. It is with a due sense of the ivine goodness, and with a proper gratitude for the merc of God, that I recommence on this day the rebuilding of the north-west and north-east fronts of Belvgir Castle, having committed the superintendanee of the building to the Rev, sir John Thoroton, lcnight, assisted by Mr. Tisonsas Turner as cleric of the works; fully confiding in their ability and anxiety to temper splendour with prudenee, and comfort with economy, but snore particularly conscious, that
Except the Lord build the house, - Their labour is but lost that build it.’
Having lingered a little in the entrance-hall and narrow passage, decorated with stag’s’ horns, swords, pistols, and muslcetry in ornamental fbrms, and elegant suits of armour both gilt and blaclc, we ascended a flight of steps, at the bottom of which stood a beautiful piece of niounted drdnance, take,n from the Silchs, and presented to the duke of Rutland by sir Henry Hai’dinge; as a model of beauty in gunnery, a perfect toy of war, it is, no doubt, regarded by military visitors with admiration and pleasme. Pictures, and stained—glass windows, on which are depicted in full-length figures the warriors of other times in hauberts and with double-handed swoi-ds, now attracted our attention; while, looking around us every now and then, we saw long IMes of visitors at a discance, passing on accompanied by their guides.
How varied are our tastes and inclinations in roanung through the repositories of art and excellence!
As different objects strike our view,
So different ends we all pursue,
By passion spurr’d, by prudence rein’d,
With taste and knowledge felt or feign’
We gaze with ardent and admiring eyes
On pictures, marbles, as they round us rise,
Or glowing glass bestamn’d with ghitt’ring dyes.
Nothing could exceed the courtesy or the patience of the agreeable housekeeper, who, with becoming gm-ny hairs nd comparatively youthful features, attended us through the castle, making plain what required explanation, and allowing us to linger when we felt disposed, without the slightest manifestation of impatience. I ventured to suggest the hope that she would never willingly discard the gray hairs which so well became her, and received her assurance that she never would.  The Regent’s Gallery, so called out of compliment to George iv, is filled with choice productions of art of various kinds. I pondered a while on the richly-coloured shell of some large foreign fruit, exceedingly unique and curious. The chairs were old oalc with cushions of needle-worlc. There were cheffoniers, finely inlaid with gold, surmounted with marble slabs; vases of varied colons’s; gilt tables of the costliest worlcmanship, and ornaments without number; a crimson couch, richly w’orked in squares; Gobelin tapestry of the most exquisite workmanship, the subjects taken from Don Quixote and other sources. The walls were pale-green, and the cornice gold, scarlet, and pale-blue; the carpet rich velvet pile, trumpet pattern, with gold leaves. I SUppOSe that by familiarity the most splendid apartment would soon lose the greater part of its attractions, This should be remembered by us in the midst of magnificent scenes, that our comforts may thereby be enhanced in value, and our envious desires corrected.
In the chapel, into which we looked down from the gallery above, is a painting of the Holy Family, by Murillo, munch prized. The peep into the chapel gives a devotional turn to the thoughts of the visitor, not unfavourable to his deep eqoyment in roaming through the different apartments of the castle. In the library lay the large boolc in which visitors wi’ite their names. On turning over its leaves, I could find no inscriptions therein to justify Inc in the liberfy of inserting a stanza ; but feeling grateful to the noble dnlce for the pleasure I was partaicing, and emboldened by the remembi-ance of his thankful acknowledgments to God for the preservation of his household during the fire, which I had so recently read, I took up, certainly the worst of the castle pens, and inscribed, in decidedly the worst hand-writing in the whole boolc, the following lines
May Rutland ever look with steady eye
To Him who reigns o’er earth, nd sea, and sky;
That lie uiay find Him his abiding trust
When Staunton Tower has crumbled into dust.
The late duchess’s boudoir has not been used since her death. The ball-room is a spacious apartment; and the queen’s di-awing-room, with rose- wood furniture and light drab sillc damask chaircovers, has in it a favourite picture of the dying stag. From the windows of this chamber the cathedral of Lincoln is plainly seen, at a distance, perhaps, of about thirty miles. An occasional glance at the out-door sylvan scenery relieves the eye of the visitor, and lie returns with a frsher curiosity to the in-door allurements that await him.
The Chinese apartment, the queen’s bed-room, the king’s room, and time dining-room, have all their several attractions; but the grand or Elizabethan saloon lays claim to a much more than ordinary degree of’ attention. The beautifully painted ceiling; the costly furniture ; the chairs and sofas, of crimson and drab sillc damask; the cheffoniers, blaclc and gold, richly ornamented with bunches of grapes formed of agates and cornelians, with gold leaves and fruit of red and white cornelian and other stones ; the gilt tables covered wish crimson velvet; the carpet of velvet pile with peacoclcs spreading their tails at each corner; the gold lcey of’ the strong-hold, presented by the chief of the Staunton family to a royal visitor the beautiful specimen of artistic skill by the late duchess
full-length portraits of the duke of Rutland and
his lamented duchess, with the marble statue of
the latter: these, together with the miniatures,
paintings, and curiosities of all kinds that enrich
the apartments, render it one of the most decidedly
beautiful rooms that is to be seen in England. I
gazed on the scene without envy, and had a heart
full of good wishes for the noble owner of Belvoir
Castle.
I could have spent a day very pleasantly in the
picture-gallery, for many of the paintings are of
time highest order. The bluff, burly face and figure
of Henry VIII, by Holbein, first caught my atten.
tion. “What a pity it is,” thought I, “that so
good a painting should represent so bad a man,
1-Ic had, however, some good points; would that
they had more conspicuously prevailed in his dma.
meter.” Hercules and Antnus by Rubens, tIme
seven pictures of tIme Seven Sacraments by N. Pousin, the Martyrdom of St. Andrew by Spag. noletto, and Dutch Proverbs by Teniers, are among the more celebrated pictures of the gallery. Paintings by Parmigiano, Carlo Dolci, Albert Darer, Vandyke, Wouvermans, Claude Lorraine, Murillo, Gainsborougli, and a score other great names. vie with each other. Seldom do I visit a picture-gallery without a feeling in which no doubt many others participate—a i’egret that I cannot thank those whose artistic fingers have so liberally contributed to my gratification.
We failed not to pay a visit to the beautiful and deeply impressive mausoleum of the late duchess. This illustrious lady was the second daughter of Frederick earl of Carlisle, nnd must, judging by her likeness and tIme works of her hands, have been eminently beautiful and talented. Our visit amply rewarded us for our walk of a quarter of a mile from the castle. Time tall, handsome serving. man in livery, who first admitted us, attended its along tIme walks, beneath the overlmangin foliage of the trees. The mausoleum is situate’d in the deep solitude of the surrounding woods. The lengthy avenue along which the spectator passes is in shadow, while the strong light from the roof window at the farther end of tIme aisle falls full on the exquisite marble figure of the duchess rising to the clouds above, where are seen her children, who died young, ready to receive and bid her welcome to the skies, one of’ them holding a croivu of glory wherewith to encircle her brow. Faith, Hope, Charity, and other figures are seen below the risin form of the duchess Our minds were solemnizd, bitt hope and faith harmonize well with solemnity. how solemn and yet how hopeful and animating are the words of the Redeemer: “ I am the resurrection and time life: lie that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth, and behieveth in me, shall never die.”
As we descended the woody height on which the castle stands, varied pictures yiere presenting themselves to my imagination. The old bulwark as it was first built bj the Norman warrior; the rude encounters which at different times it had to endure ; the glittering pennants of the partisans of York and Lancaster fluttering in tIme breeze on the tops of the old walls the hostile armed bands beleagLiriug the place; the watch-lime glowing with lurid glare on Staunton’s lofty tower, a beacon to THE MAILS TO THE ANTIPODES.
TEa vast number of adventurers who have crowded to the gold-bearing colonies, with whom correspondence is maintained by friends at home; the immense commercial transactions between the mother country and her southern dependencies, originated by the migration of population; and the ransacking of auriferous deposits; have rendered postal communication with Australia a somewhat bulky, weighty, and costly affair. The despatch of the mails to that quarter is in fact not unlike the transmission of an entire warehouse of closely. packed articles, occasionally equalling in size what the entire home and foreign correspondence of the United Kingdom was when the third George began to reign. The govei-nment contract mail. ship “Virniera,” Captain H. Neatby, sailed from Plymouth for Sydney, via the Cape, on the 5th of August last. Newspapers, letters, and other des. patches of the post, filled 146 packages; of which, 57 bags and 1 box were for Port Philhip, 8 bags for Gecloug, 14 for Van Diemen’s Land, 2 for Western Australia, 22 for Adelaide, 34 for Sydney, 5 for Wellington, and 3 for Auckland. The mails for Van Diemen’s Land, Swan River, and Adelaide, will be left at Melbourne, and transmitted from thence to their destination. Those for New Zealaud will be taken on to Sydney. Only a few days before, the steam-ship “Sydney” took her departure for the same region, from the East India Docks, with mails nearly as heavy.
In 1851, the “ Virniera,” in charge of her present commander, accomplished the outward passage to Port Phillip in ninety days, and returned from Sydney, by Cape Horn, in ninety-one days. In 1852, the vessel performed the same voyages—outward in eighty-seven days, and homeward in eighty-two days. Her present contract with the postmaster-general is to go out to Port Phillip in eighty-two days, for which she will receive 10001., and be liable to a penalty of 301. for every day’s delay beyond the stipulated time. The ship took a picked crew of forty-eight hands, with thirty passengers, and a cargo of more than a thousand tons of manulbotured goods, valued at upwards of 100,0001. The service will probably be accomplished in the specified period, of which we shall
friend and foe ; the soldiery of king Charles and
the Parliament remorselessly hewing down each
other in their hostile strjfe the wide-spread eon-
flagration that wrapped the princely edifice in
flames; and the solemn funeral procession when
the faded dust of the lamented duchess was con-
signed to the tomb. These sterner scenes, how.
ever, were contrasted by others of a more agree.
able though less exciting character, and the war-
like and the sorrowfhl gave way to the peaceful
and pleasant dreams of my fancy.
When we had taken refreshment at the village
inn, we prepared for our departure. The fly and
the bay mare were brought to the door, Thomas
Christmas again became our charioteer, and after
a pleasant drive, the fields of ruddy grain on either
hand ready for the sickle, we arrived at our quiet
destination, not ungrateful for our agreeable visit
to Belvoir Castle.
prbabl’y hear in a few weeks. On the 29th of
May last, the renowned clipper ship, “Marco Polo,”
reached Port Phillip from Liverpool, having made
the passage in seventy-five days. But it would
have been perfbrmed in a shorter interval, had not
complete calms for twelve days prevented progress,
The above are saihing.vessels. The” Great Britain”
screw-steamer, which left Liverpool August 11, is
to reach Sydney in sixty-five days; her
owners being under an engagement to return a
specified sum paid upon the cargo if the voyage
exceeds that period. Cousin Jonathan, in the go.
a-head spirit characteristic of him, predicts for a
New York steamer, the “ Golden Age,” on the
way to the same port, a voyage of only fifty days.
But this is a profession unsustained by the slight-
est probability of performance following.
ders to convey the Australian mails, uid the Cape,
The postmaster-general now advertises for ten.
offering 10001. to the contractor, anti render.
ing him amenable to a heavy penalty for every
day’s delay beyond the time specified in his con.
tract. Letters must be pie-paid Is.; newspapers
go free. But by any private ship, noted for quick
passages and sailing direct, letters may be for-
warded if they are posted with the name of the
channel lid, to Sydney, under the half-ounce;
vessel written on them. They are charged by this
is. id. to other places in New South Wales; and
pre-payment is optional. But to all other Austra-
han ports they must be pre-paid, under half arm
ounce 8d., and newspapers mu each case id.
By the Overland Indian Mail there is bi’montbly
postal communication with the Australian cob,
nies, by Singapore, Batavia, and Cape Leenwin.
Letters by this route must be pre-paid is. under
the half-ounce; newspapers are free. On the 2nd
of June last, the Peninsular and Oriental Corn.
pany’s steamer “Shanghai” left Sydney, brought
‘advices from Melbourne to the 8th, from Adelaide
to the 13th, reached Singapore July 4th, just two
hours before the departure of the “Malta,” with
the overland mail, by which her despatches were
forwarded. The principal items of’ intelligence
were known in London by telegraph, uid Triest,
August 10, sixty-nine days after date from Sydney,
sixty-three from Melbourne, and fifty-eight from
Adelaide.
There is a third route which will shortly be
opened for passeno’er traffic and postal communica-
tion. This is by he Isthmus of Panama and the
Pacific Qcean. The recently incorporated Anstra-
han Direct Steam Navigation Company expect that
their vessels will reach Sydney in about fifty-five
days from Milford Haven, .the port of departure.
What a revelation of human life would he un-
folded by an examination of the Australian mails !
We have no wish to pry int thc letter-bags. It
is needless. Their contents may be inferred with
general precision. In multitudes of instances the
communications will have affecting and painful
passages, sometimes tragic details along with
cheering and hopeful representations. Besides
mercantile ad.vices, political intelligence, and family
afihirs, outwarbound letters will contain fond
remembrances from parents, brothers, and sisters,
with not a few anxious counsels, for many a
thoughtless one ‘to beware of the errol’s which
blighted progress and sullied reputation in his
____
native land. Homeward letters will have an equally
checquered aspect, expressing impressions of hope
and fear, with the experience of disappointment,
dejection, suffering, success, and satisfaction,
There must be many odd addresses on the letters
outward, for Australian nomenclature abounds
with all kinds of oddities. Though the sites have
in general been but newly named, the donominaexpected
tions are in many instances so whimsical as to
baffle conjecture respecting their derivation and
names of English origin often make a strange
medley with those that are native, by being placed
in juxtaposition with them. A correspondent, for
example, may have his whereabouts on Moonlight
Flat, in Peg-leg Gully, Bendigo Diggings, Vie-
toria; the squattage of another may be on Pig-face
Plain, near Denilignin, district of Murrumbidgee,
Windy Corner; a fourth at Terry Hie ilie; and a
New South Wales; a third may be located at
fifth at Pudding-pan Hill. Letters have recently
passed to and fro between Berlin and Buchsfeld in
South Australia. The origin of the name of the
latter place is interesting. A few years 4-o, the
late Leopold Von Buch, whose death at an ad-
vanced age was regretted by the world of science
in time spring of time current year, had some young
aqd emigrate to Adelaide. Time illustrious geolo-
German friends about to leave their fatherland
gist paid tLem a fimrewell visit; and knowing that
their means were limited, he left behind him at his
departure a draft for three hundred thalers on the
table. A kind note soon arrived requesting their
acceptance of the present, the donor pleasantly re-
marking that, in case he visited Australia, lie should
want the shelter of a i’oof, and therefore wished
to contribute towards providing one. The cmi-
grants safely reached their destination, selected a
location, built a house, and appropriately named the
deniesue Buchsfeld, in honour of their benefactor,
Mishaps by thousands have attended letters out-
ward to Victoria, after having accomplished the
‘passage of the ocean. ‘l’hmis lies arisen from the
peculiar condition of the province, the incessant
shifting of the population, the vast increase of
business at the post-offices, the want of effective
orgauisation to conduct it, and the wilful careless-
ness of those employed. The negligence of time
colonial post.mnasters and post-office clerks forms a
prominent feature of complaint in all the Austra-
han papers. The transmission of letters from one
town and colony to another is slow and uncertain.
Frequently they do not come to hand at all; more
frequently their transmission and delivery are de-
layed for many days, and even weeks. In the
capitals, the great banking-houses, commercial
firms, and managers of public companies, may
receive the correspondence addressed to them with
something akin to regularity; probably because it
would not be safe to exasperate those who have the
means of enforcing redress. But persons of little
importance and influence have to wait and petition
before their correspondence is delivered; and if
they write letters, they are never certain as to the
time when they will be forwarded to their destination.
At the diggings this state of, things is much
worse. Owing to the badness of the roads, the
mails come in and go out with disconcerting irregularity, and time post-offices of the capitals are 
slow to acknowledge the existence of new sites
with fresh communities of gold-seekers. It re-
many complaints in the local papers before
the official dignitaries of Sydney or Melbourne can
be induced to appoint a post-master for a newly-
peopled district, and find for it a couple of messen-
gers and bags. As for the transmission of corres-
pondence to England, and the delivery of letters
from the mother country, the complaints are still
snore frequent and acrimonious, “ Seldom, says
a document signed by fifty-two diggers of Forest
Creek, “does a letter from friendsfroun wife,
or brother—ever reach the unfortunate im-
We travel about seventy miles to Mel-
bouruue for a letter. We live at great expense
while there. It costs us at least 12g. per day. We
spend hours, for days together, under a burning
sun, before we can see an impertinent clerk, who,
with perfect coolness, informs us there are no let.
ters—ay, often without looking. If this answer
floes not dismiss the applicant, we frequently find
a letter is at last given, and the post-mark and date
prove that the letter has been lying at the office
ibr weeks past.” Lamentable as are these cireum-
stances, they are not surprising; for postal salaries,
though raised to meet the exigencies of the time,
not prizes in a country where the price of orchi-
nary labour is enormously high. Such situations are not, therefore, coveted by competent and energe ic parties, but fall to the lot of these who are more or iess incapable om’ indolent. The evil is thus to a great extent inevitable, and cannot be fully rectified while the position of affairs in the colonies continues so anomalous and extraordinary.
A singular mischance, rectified in the end, once happened to a letter posted at Sydney, which humstrates the inconvenience of two places having the same name. New South Wales has its Liverpool— a small, dull, stagnant town, at the head of a paltry stream, as unlike as possible to its English namesake. The letter in question, containing ‘a bank note, was addressed to a person residing at this place; but the writer did not specify on the address which Liverpool was intended. In the hurry of business it was thrown into the mail for England, and duly reached time banks of the Mersey. No owner being found, it was sent to tIme dead-letter office, London, and opened. The mistake being then discovered, it was re-posted for the Australian Liverpool, and safely reached the right party, after having performed a journey of more than thirty thousand miles instead of twenty and been nearly twelve months in transit instead of about three hours. This is certainly the most “travelled” letter of whelm we have any specific account.
Though grossly mismanaged, still seine facts connected with the Melbourne post-office are highly intes-esting, as affording evidence of the progress of the colony. In 1851, as many as 229,070 letters and 206,674 newspapers went through the office of that cit’1’, In 1852, the number of letters amounted to 898,601, and of newspapers to 638,728. The mail brought by the
Harbinger,” which arrived at Southampton from Port Philip August 19th, was time largest that ever reached this country from the southern dependencies. It contained not less than 450,000 letters and newspapers; and, owing to the admirable management of the English post-office, the whole of this immense mass of correspondence was
sorted and forwarded to its destination in twentyquires
four hours. The vessel belonging to the General
Screw Steam Shipping Company is the first
steamer that has made a successful passage be-
tween the mother country and the antipodes. To
this company the honour belongs of having estab.
lished the possibility of bringing the two distant
regions into quicker intercourse, by the use of
steam. Their ,ship, the “Argo,” reached South-
ampton October 29th, having made the voyage oat
and /ronie by Cape Horn in five months and ninesister,
teen days, spending upwards of six weelcs in Ausmigrant.
trahia. The actual time undr steam and caulvass
was 121 days, and as the distance both ways is
27,900 miles, the average speed per day was nearly
230 miles, or slightly over 9 miles per hour.
Steam was only used as an auxiliary, the ship
being fully rigged, and at times it was altogether
dispensed with. Tue coals consumed out and in
amounted to 2105 tons, of which 845 tons were
consumed out, and 1260 home, an average of
rather more than 17 tons per day. The “Argo”
run from Southampton to Port Phillip in 04 days;
and a similar quick passage has been made from
Gravesend to Adelaide by the “Victoria,” belongare
ing to another company, in 59 days, 22 hours.
A CONTRAST.
CAI’TAIN B. HALL has furnished the following contrast between two officers with whom lie was acquainted. “Whenever one of them came on board the ship, ins constant habit was to cast his eye about him, in order to discover what was wrong, to detect the smallest thing that was out of its place; in a word, to find
many grounds of censure as possible. This constituteti, in his opinion, the best preventive to ii eglect, The attention of another, on the contrary, appeared to be directed chiefly to those points which lie could approve
of. One of these captains would remark to the irst lieutenant, as lie walked, along, ‘How white and clean you have got the decks to-day! I think you must’beve been at them all the morning, to get them into,sueh Order.’ The other, in similar circumstances, but eager to find fault, would say, even if the decks were as white and as clean as the drifted snow, ‘I wish, air, you would teach these sweepers to clear away that ‘uuidle of shakings;’ pointing to a bit of ropeyaru, not haif an inch long, left under the truck of a gun. It se,med, m short, as if nothing was more vcxatious to one of these officers, than to discover things so correct as to afford loin no good opportunity for finding fault: while, to the other, time necessity of censuring really appeared a punishment to himself, Under the one, accordingly, we all worked with cheerfulness, from a conviction that nothing we did in a proper way would miss approbation: while our duty under the other, being performed in fear, seldom went on with much spirit. We had no personal satisfaction in doing things correctly, from the certainty of getting no commendation. What seemed the oddest thing of all was, that these men were both as kind-hearted as could be; or, if there was any difference, the fault-finder was the better natured, and, in matters not professional, the more indulgent of the two,” Captain Hall adds’” It requires but very little experience of soldiers or sailors, children, servants, or any other kind of dependents, to show that this good humour on our part, towards those whom we wish to influence, is the best possible coadjutor to our schemes of management, whatever these may be.”  

Varieties
A GRAND FESTIVE PARTY IN A COAIrPIT.-By way
of celebrating a certain auspicious event, the proprietors of
a coal-pit resolved to have a grand subterranean fête at tIcs
very place of triumph! Tics Tartsrean apartment was
situated at a depth of nearly 1100 feet below the surface of
the earth, and ivas in tIcs shape of the letter L, the width
being 15 feet, ths base 22 feet, and the perpendicnlar
height 48 feet. Seats were placed on the sides of the said
room, tice floor was dried and flagged, and the vhole place
ivas brilliantly illuminated with lamps and candies. The
company began to asseenbie, and descend in appropriate
dresses, about half-past nine icc the morning, and continued
to arrive till ode in the afternoon. The men engaged in
the svork, tileir wives, danghters, and siveethearts; several
neighbours with their ivives; tile proprietors amid agents
with tlceir ladies, and sundry friends of both essee who had
courage to avail themselves of the privilege; all these gra.
dnalhy found their svay to the bottom of the shaft. henme-
diateiy ome their arrival there, they proceeded to tile cx-
trecnity of tile drift, to tice face of tile coal (coal never lice
a white face, thongh it sometimes has a clean face in
mheiclg language); at the face each person hen’ed a piece
of coal as a mPmento of tlee occasion, and then returned to
tiletr singular aasecnbly.room. As soon as a sufficient nucn-
her of guests had arrived ties entertainments cocaamuemecsd,
amed were continued svitliout intermission till three o’clock
in the afternoon. No distinction was made amsng the
guests, and borcc and bred ladies mingled freeiy ivitie boric and bred pitmen’s daughters. Au mcmv vetureeed in safety, and in nice clcau and well-lined baskets, to the upper
regions, déligilted with the novel visit en sviucil tlcey bad
beeme engaged. A local baced of miners’ cnusicialce was us
attendance, amid tIes pit eras filed witle music and enjoy-
Tile geicii of the caverns were startled, and the
youmcg dacldified pitmen never looked so happy, so clean,
and so gay. Refroslemecits were not forgotteem, and biscuits
of all kinds were dispensed ide abondacece. It svas esti-
mated ticat lsetween 200 and 300 persons were present, and
that nearly ocee icaif of them were females. It must be
remembered ticat the pit evae clean, prepared, and icad not
beemc evorked; so ticiet ceo smoke acid dust exuded from its
naoutil, aced every facility n-as given for a comfortable, slow,
and safe doseeut.—Tlavchbcm’sLibl’ary.
INTRODUCTION OF PoTATOES—Potatoes were first kmcosvmc ill England about thee year 1586. Fsr nearly a cematccry ticey evore cultivated only in gardens as a curious exotic, furmcishiug an expensive icexury for tics tables of nomec hut the riciccst people icc time kiecgdomn. The plant, evicicie has ceosv becoccae tics priucipah ceaeana of saving the honest amid poorest classes ics Great Britain frocn atarvatiome, by supplying thocn svitic a chimp and abundant article of fosd, eras at one time so rare, that, as appears from an accoeent of this houseilold sxpsmcsos of Acene, evife of Jamoes a, thee price of petatees evas rated mct one sheiilhng per pound l
MULTIPLYtNG DY Fci.—Auy nmcmnbsr of figures thcat you may evcsh to ennitiphy by 5 n-ill give th:e same result if divided by 2, a mucic qecickor operation; but you must rocnomesber to anciox a ccphor to ties ameawer svhemm thcors is ceo remnammeder, and ee-iceee there is a remainder, evhatecsr it enay be, anceox a S to tics ausn-sr. Multiply 464 by 5, amcd tbs amcsever eviiii be 2320; divide ties same number by 2, and you have 232, and as tlcere in no remainder you annex a cipher. Now take 357 and multiply by 5, tIcs snsn-er is 1785; on dividing 4hcs first sum by 2 ticsrs is 178 and a rscnaicmdcr; yon ticercfore place a 5 at the end of the line, and tics result is again 1785.
SHORE PRowaEmTaoN.—Ths smnoke whcich noev bangs shov4 London is, us part, forbidden; ticis year the steamers mnust cease disgorgiceg tlcoir snhisn contribution to tics ciomid. Neat year, tics great furnaces eviili be added to tics list of thp proscribed; and thcen, preheably, the private icoones evil begin to fohlon-, aced ticat, before a very iong time; becacuse tice proicibitieme of ecnnkmng, to many trading estabiishcmuecus, cciii meecessariiy stimulate invecetion, evhichc is already dsvoteei to phamuumcg arramigeenceets toe producing firs esithoect smucker
NAPOLEON’S hOUSE AT ST. HELENA—Bonaparte’s
house at Longivood, St. Helena, is now a barn; the rosin
he died in is a stable; and ivhere the imperial body icy in
state, may be found a machine for grinding corn.
RIVER ST. LAWRENCE—This river is one of tile largest
ill tIes ‘world, being 2500 miles long; it is navigable for tile
largest ships to Quebec (400 miles), and for ships of 400 or
500 tone to Montreal, while fleets sail on the lakes.
A FABLE—Tile sword of tile warrior was taken down
to brighten; it lead not been long out of use. The rust
was rubbed, but tlcere were spots tllat would not ge—they
were of blood. The pen took advantage of the first breath
of air to move a little further off. “ Thou art rigilt,” said
the sword, “I sin a bad neighbour.”“I fear thee not,”
said tile pen; “ I am more peeverful than thou art, but
love not thy society.”“I exterminate, said ties an-ord.
“And I perpetuate,” answered tils pen; “where are thy
victories, if I record theen not? Even whe;e thou silalt
one day be—in the lake of oblivion.
News.—Some lover of the curious in litersture escorts
that tile word News is ceot derived from the adjective slew,
as many eccppese. ITo says, that in former tiuees it use
common to see on tue newspapers of the day the initial
letters of the cardieeai peimets of tics compass, tilus:
N
These letters were intended to indicate that tile paper
contained intelligence from the foeec quarters of the globe,
but they fenaliy came to assume the form of tlee evord ncsec,
from whicic tile tovcn nen-apaper is derived. This explauaicce,ct.
tiou in certainly ingenious, but whetiler the true one, we
caumeot undertake to say.
CHARMING B0N-EoNa.—Some of tile delicacies of the
Dutch are certaimcly very extraordinary. People in Holland
eat pickles as tice French eat peppermints. All about tlce
streets may be seen little stands, upon which are tempt-
ingly diaplayed pickled cucumbers, beets, oceions, and otieer
vegetabien, soaking ice vinegar, aced cut up into httie tit-bits
for the refreshment of the passer-by, svico, for a stiver, can
sot icis teetil on edge meet adcnirabiy.
THE GUIEDHALL LIBRARY.—It will be of iuterest to literary persoecs to be apprised that tins collection, no rich cu rare and valuable works connected with metropolitan icistomy, has been iateiy made available to the members of ties republic of letters. The hbrary committee, with groat hberahty acid courtesy, hays issued free tickets for this purpose. Tice rare originai ;vood-cut view of London in tile reign of Eheabetic, by Agyas, ncay. here be cecil.
BELL5.—Tice great hell of St. Paul’s, London, weighs 8400; the great bell of Lincoln 9894 pounds. Groat Tom, ice Christ Church, Oxford, the largest boll in England, n-sighs 17,000 pounds. Tile bell in Paiaa Voccleio, at Florence, suspended 295 feet from the ground, weigha 17,000 pounds. Tile great beil of St. Peter’s, at Rocne, weigica 18,600 pounds. Tics bell at Ertbtie, 28,200. But iargs as are these belle, ticey sicrink cousiderabiy wicen compared evitie tisose of Russia. Tico boll in the tower of St. Ivan, in Moscosv, woiglca 100,000 pounds; and the fallen great boil wicicic lies at tics foot of tics earns tower, 443,772 pounds. Its heigict is over 21 feet, and its diameter at tics rim is 22 feet. The metal in it is estimated
to bs wortic about 70,000?.
SNOW EYNS.—Eihie, in speaking of this Esquimaux, says m “Thoir snoev eyes, as they call them, are a proof of their sagacity. These are little pieces of wood, boccs, or ivory, formed to cover tics eyes, and tied on behind ths icead. Ticey have two slits ot the exact iscegtic of the eyes, but very narron-. This invention prsasrvss the eyes feoua snoev-blindness, a very dangerous and powerful ncalady, caused by tics action of ths light reflected frocn ties snow. The use of theses artificial eyes considerably streugthsmcs tics sight, and the Esquimaux are so accemstomcd to them, that nicen they leave a mind to view distant objects ticsy cocn rnomciy ices timenc iicstead of spy-glasses.”