Bart. ;" it formerly contained the letter sent with the gift. Joining the Library is the Study; it is a small room filled with books and objects of antiquity; a writing table in the centre, and a plain armed-chair covered with black leather, form the only furniture of this room, now no longer to be used by its originally illustrious proprietor. The view from the bay window of the principal library, is singularly picturesque; beyond a lawn of green turf rolls the Tweed, fringed with the willow and beach, and in the distance rise the green hills of Ettrick. In the very accurate and well written Gazetteer of Scotland, edited by Messrs. Robert and William Chambers, it is stated, that the house and its woods have been entirely the creation of the late illustrious proprietor, and that the name is altogether new; as the previous title of the place, when covered by a small and mean farmstead, was Cartley Hole. It was here that, on the 21st of September, 1832, at half-past one in the afternoon, the poet closed his eyes upon this world. It had been his lasting desire to end his days in his native land, and the wish was fulfilled. On the 29th of October, a meeting of the creditors of the late Sir Walter was held at Edinburgh, at which the mansion and grounds adjoining were for the present secured to the family; and on the 9th of November, a meeting was held in London, for the purpose of devising means to preserve Abbotsford, as the best monument of the genius of Sir Walter, at which it was agreed: "That a subscription be forthwith entered into for the purpose of not only preserving Abbotsford, but of securing its proper maintenance in the family of Sir Walter Scott; that books be prepared for the collection of subscriptions, and sent not only throughout the British dominions, but into every part of the world where one of the books can be lodged; that the books be so prepared as to admit the name, description, &c. of the subscriber; that they be all of one uniform size; and that, when the subscription shall be closed, the said books be gathered together, bound up, and deposited among the most honorable of the archives of Abbotsford." A spirited subscription is now in progress in the neighborhood of Melrose and Abbotsford, for the purpose of erecting a monument to the memory of Sir Walter Scott. It is proposed to build the monument on the top of the Eildon Hills. From the conical peak, 1,330 feet above the level of the sea, one of the most picturesque and commanding in the South of Scotland, it will be seen from thirteen counties. The following cut represents another view of Abbotsford. The following spirited "Farewell to Abbotsford," by Mrs. Hemans, written before the "home of the Legend and the Lay," was deprived of its lord and master, possess a melancholy interest at this time. Home of the gifted! fare-thee-well, And a blessing on thee rest; While the high voice, from thee sent forth, Joy to thy hearth, and board, and bower! And hearts of proof, and hands of power, While one proud pulse in the land can thrill, POPULAR INFORMATION ON SCIENCE. We shall now turn to the other grand division of the subject, namely, the attraction exercised between particles of matter situated at short or insensible distances from each other. Cohesive attraction is that power which retains atoms of the same kind together in masses. When two drops of the same sort of liquid are placed near to each other, as was remarked at the commencement, they attract each other, and uniting together, form one globule. The roundness of the drop is caused by this attraction. "Hast thou not seen two pearls of dew How eager their attraction grew, As nearer to each other borne?"--Drummond. If two globules of quicksilver on a smooth sur face be brought near to each other, they will unite in a similar manner. They have also a tendency to remain in this state, and will not separate until some force be applied. Cohesion is strongest in solids. For instance, a bar of iron of half an inch in diameter, or even less, will defy all our efforts to break it with the hand. In fluids, the power is a great deal weaker, as is proved by the ease with which we can separate one portion of water from another. Small needles, however, can be made to float on water, their weight not being sufficient to overcome the cohesion of the fluid. In the same way many small insects walk on the surface of water without being wetted. In gaseous bodies, such as air, this attraction is entirely overcome, and a mutual repulsion exists among the particles, which is the cause of their elasticity. Cohesion is illustrated by the following facts:-When portions of the same size are cut from two leaden bullets, and the fresh surfaces being brought into contact, and slightly pressed, they will unite, and appear as if they had been originally cast in one piecc. Fresh cut surfaces of India-rubber cohere in a similar manner. There is a species of attraction called adhesive attraction, instances of which come frequently under observation. If water be poured from a jug which has not a projecting lip, it will not fall perpendicularly, but run down the outside of the vessel. Hence the reason of having a spout to such utensils. A plate of glass, when brought into contact with a level surface of water, adheres to it with considerable tenacity, and resists a separation. Pieces of wood floating in a pond attract each other, and remain in contact; and the wrecks of vessels, when the sea is smooth, are often found gathered together in heaps. There is a species of attraction called capillary, which takes place under the following circumstances: When one end of an open glass tube is put into water, the enclosed liquid stands above the level of that on the outside, and it rises always the higher the smaller the bore of the tube is; the surrounding glass, being thus nearer to the water, attracts it more powerfully. A piece of lump sugar, whose lowest corner touches the water, soon becomes moistened throughout. Thus also the wick of a lamp or candle draws up the oil or tallow to supply combustion. The sap which rises from the roots to the tops of vegetables, though chiefly an action of vegetable life, partly depends on capillary attraction for its ascent. We come now to a most important and interesting part of the subject, namely, chymical attraction or affinity. There are in nature about fifty-four substances, which are termed elements, from the impossibility of human skill or industry to reduce them to any thing simpler. These elements, uniting together by the power of chymical attraction, form the infinite variety of objects around us. The investigation of this subject, from its great extent and vast importance, would require a separate article of itself to do it any thing like justice; but we hope to be able to give a general idea of it, sufficiently attractive to induce the reader to pursue the subject in more laborious compilations. This Chymical attraction is exercised between particles of dissimilar bodies, which, uniting, form a new subtance possessing properties different from those of its ingredients. Frequently, indeed, the qualities of the compound are exactly the opposite of those of its constituents, as in the case of water. liquid is composed of hydrogen, one of the most inflammable bodies known, and oxygen, the grand supporter of combustion on the globe. Yet when these are united, they form a fluid possessing qualities so totally different from their own, that it destroys all flame whatsoever, unless, indeed, the heat be so intense as to decompose the water; and frequently the same component parts, when united in different proportions, produce the most opposite substances. Thus the common air which we breathe is composed of the very same elements as aquafortis. All bodies have not a chymical attraction for each other. Thus oil and water, though shaken together, will never be made to unite; but if lime water is employed, a union takes place, and the result is a new compound, which is insoluble in water. Again, sulphuric acid, or vitriol, will not dissolve or unite with gold; but it will with copper or iron, (besides a great variety of other bodies,) forming in the first instance sulphate of copper or blue vitriol; and in the second, sulphate of iron or copperas. Common sea sand and soda, when heated together, attract each other, and, combining, form glass. What are called acids and alkalies have a strong affinity for each other, and their compounds form a class of substances called salts, which are most important in the arts and manufactures. Oil of vitriol and soda, for instance, combine with great facility, and the compound is Glauber salt. Thus, by the existence and exercise of this peculiar property of matter, are formed the endless diversity of substances which constitute the mass of our globe. It is impossible to contemplate the subject of attraction in general, without a feeling of religious reverence and awe for the Divine Being who drew the mighty plan, set it in motion at first, and sustains it so still. But the wisdom of it is not more conspicuous than the benevolence. Indeed, the operations of all the various laws of nature are to man so many various sources of enjoyment. He stands as it were the centre of the system of life and nature around him. What attraction is in the abstract, human sagacity has not yet, and probably never will, unravel. The chain of cause and effect here breaks off, or rather for the present may be said to terminate in the Deity. Future philosophers, however, may discover a proximate cause, and even trace the golden links through a thousand beautiful windings, but in a Divine Creator they must merge at last. AIR AND EXERCISE. There is a fact well known to physicians, which settles at once the importance of fresh air to beauty, as well as health. It is, that in proportion as people stay at home, and do not set their lungs playing as they ought, the blood becomes dark, and lags in its current; whereas the habit of inhaling the air out of doors reddens it like a ruby, and makes it clear and brisk. Now the darker the blood, the more melancholy the sensations, and the worse the complexion. It is common with persons who inherit a good stock of health from their ancestors, to argue that they take no particular pains to preserve it, and yet are well. This may be true; and it is also true, that there is a pains-taking to that effect, which is superfluous and morbid, and helps to do more harm than good. But it does not follow from either of these truths, that a neglect of the rational means of retaining health will ultimately be good for any body. Healthy people may live a good while upon their stock. Children are in the habit of doing it. But healthy children, especially those who are foolishly treated upon an assumption that health consists in being highly fed, and having great beefeaten cheeks, very often turn out sickly at last; and grown-up people, for the most part, at least in great towns, have as little really good health, as children in general are given credit for the reverse. Nature does indeed provide liberally for abuses; but the abuse will be felt at last. It is generally felt a long while before it is acknowledged. Then comes age, with all its train of regrets and superstitions; and the beauty and the man, besides world perhaps of idle remorse, which they would not feel but for their perverted blood, could eat their hearts out for having been such fools as not to secure a continuance of good looks and manly feelings, for want of a little handsome energy. The ill taste of existence that is so apt to come upon people in middle life, is too often attributed to moral causes. Moral they are, but very often not in the sense imagined. Whatever causes be mixed up with them, the greatest of all is, in ninety nine instances out of a hundred, no better or grander than a non-performance of the common duties of health. Many a fine lady takes a surfeit for a tender distress; and many a real sufferer who is haunted by a regret, or takes himself for the most ill-used of bilious old gentlemen, might trace the loftiest of his woes to no better origin than a series of ham-pies, or a want of proper use of his boots and umbrella. Its THE TRUMPETER BIRD. This bird is a native of South America. length is about twenty-two inches, and its legs are five inches high, and completely covered with small scales, which reach two inches above the knee. Its general plumage is black, and the feathers of the head and neck are very short and downy; those of the fore part of the neck, and upper part of the breast, of a very glossy gilded green, with a reflection of blue in some lights. The feathers between the shoulders are rust-colored, changing into a pale ash color as they pass downwards. They are loose and silky. Those of the shoulders are long, and hang over the tail, which is very short, and consists of twelve blackish feathers. The legs are greenish, and the bill is yellowish green, having the nostrils open. The most characteristic and remarkable property of these birds consists in the wonderful noise which they often make, either of their own accord, or when urged by their keepers. To induce them to this, it is sometimes necessary to entice the bird with a bit of bread to come near, and then making the same kind of sound, which the keepers can well imitate, the bird will frequently be disposed to repeat it. This strange noise, which somewhat resembles the moan of pigeons, is at times preceded by a savage cry, interrupted by a sound approaching that of sherch, sherch. In this way the bird utters five, six, or seven times, very quickly, a hollow noise from within its body, nearly as if one pronounced tou, tou, tou, tou, tou, tou, with the mouth shut, resting upon the last tou a very long time, and terminating by sinking gradually with the same note. When tamed, the Trumpeter distinguishes its master and benefactor with marks of affection. "Having," (says Vosmaër) "reared one myself, No I had an opportunity of experiencing this. When I opened its cage in the morning, the kind animal hopped round me, expanding its wings, and trumpeting, as if to wish me good morning. He showed equal attention when I went out and returned. sooner did he perceive me at a distance, than he ran to meet me; and even when I happened to be in a boat, and set my foot on shore, he welcomed me with the same compliments, which he reserved for me alone, and never bestowed upon others." The Trumpeter is easily tamed, and always becomes attached to its benefactor. When bred up in the house, it loads its master with caresses, and follows his motions; and if it conceives a dislike to persons on account of their forbidding figure, or of some injury received, it will pursue them sometimes to a considerable distance, biting their legs, and showing every mark of displeasure. It obeys the voice of its master, and even answers the call of others to whom it bears no ill-will. It is fond of caresses, and offers its head and neck to be stroked; and if once accustomed to these familiarities, it becomes troublesome, and will not be satisfied without continual fondling. It make its appearance as often as its master sits down to table, and begins with driving out the dogs and cats from the room; for it is so obstinate and bold, that it never yields, but oftentimes after a tough battle, will put a middle-sized dog to flight. It avoids the bites of its antagonist by rising in the air; and retaliates with violent blows of its bil! and claws, aimed chiefly at the eyes. After it gains the superiority, it pursues the victory with the utmost rancor, and if not taken off will destroy its antagonist. By its intercourse with man, its instincts become moulded like those of a dog; and we are assured it can be trained to attend a flock of sheep. It even shows a degree of jealousy of its human rivals; for when at table, it bites fiercely the naked legs of the negroes and other domestics who approach its master. Almost all these birds have also a habit of following people through the streets, and out of town, even those whom they have never seen before. It is difficult to get rid of them. If a person enters a house, they will wait his return, and again join him, though after an interval of three hours. "I have sometimes," (says M. de la Borde) "betaken myself to my heels; but they ran faster, and always got before me; and when I stopped, they stopped also. I know one that invariably follows all the strangers who enter its master's house, accompanies them into the garden, takes as many turns there as they do, and attends them back again." In a state of nature the Trumpeter inhabits the barren mountains and upland forests of South America, never visiting the cleared grounds nor the settlements. It associates in numerous flocks. It walks and runs, rather than flies, since it never rises more than a few feet from the ground, and then only to reach some short distance, or to gain some low branch. It feeds on wild fruits; and when surprised in its haunts, makes its escape by the swiftness of its feet, at the same time uttering a shrill cry, not unlike that of a turkey. The various combinations into which the twenty-four letters of the alphabet may be arranged, amount to 620,448,401,733,239,439,360,000. The number of miles run by Stage Coaches in England is annually about 40,530,000 The expense of drawing coaches by horses is about two shillings per mile, so that the annual expenditure for horse-keeping is about 4,000,000. This superb tree is a native of the burning climate of Africa. It is supposed, by the inhabitants of a shore which abounds in gigantic shrubs, to be the largest and most majestic production of the vegetable kingdom; and, from its enormous size and noble appearance, it well merits the title of Monarch of the Forest. Its trunk, which is scarcely ever known to exceed fifteen feet in height, often measures no less than eighty in circumference. The lower branches, which are adorned with tufts of leaves, extends from its sides horizontally, and bending by their great weight towards the earth, form a mass of verdure no less astonishing in size than beautiful in appearance. The circumference of a full-grown tree, measuring the circle which surrounds the branches, is said in some cases to be as much as four hundred and fifty feet; when of this size, its bulk is so enormous that, at a distance, it bears a greater resemblance to an overgrown forest than to a single tree. It is beneath the grateful shade of its spreading boughs that the wearied Negroes lie down, when scorched by the burning sun of their sultry climate; and it is the friendly shelter of its overhanging branches that the benighted traveller seeks, when overtaken or threatened with a storm. The countries of Africa which are particularly favorable to the production of this tree, and in which it chiefly flourishes, are those which lie along the coast and shores of the Niger, as far down as the kingdom of Benin. The blossoms are as gigantic in proportion as the tree which bears them: they begin usually to appear about the month of July. The fruit ripens towards the latter end of the month of October, or the early part of November. It differs greatly in its shape; sometimes it is found of an oblong form, pointed at both ends; at other times, it is said to be perfectly globular; and it often bears a shape in medium between these two. In its size it differs as considerably as in its shape. It is covered with a green rind or shell, which, however, as it dries, becomes of a dark fawn color, and often assumes a deep brown. It is very prettily marked and ornamented with rays, and is suspended from the tree by a pedicle or stalk, the length of which is nearly two feet. The fruit, when broken, exhibits to the eye a spongy substance of a pale chocolate color, containing much juice. Its seeds are brown, and in shape resemble a kidney-bean. The bark of the tree is nearly an inch in thickness, of an ash-colored gray, greasy to the touch, and very smooth; the exterior is adorned with a description of varnish; while the inside is of a brilliant green, beautifully speckled with bright red. The wood itself is white, and very soft and penetrable, and is said to possess many very peculiar virtues, which are held in much esteem by the Negroes. The age of this tree is not the least extraordinary part of its history. From names and dates which appear to have been carved upon some of them by Europeans, we are led to conclude that they were in existence five or six centuries ago. The leaves, when the tree is in its earliest infancy, are of ar oblong shape, about four or five inches in length, having several veins running from the middle rib, of a beautiful and bright green; as the plant advances in growth, and increases in height and size, the shape of the leaves alter, and they become divided into three parts; afterwards, when the tree has attained its complete growth, and become a full-sized and vigorous vegetable, these three divisions increase to five, and the leaf assumes a shape not unlike that of the human hand. The Negroes of Senegal dry the bark and the leaves in the shade, and then reduce them to a fine powder. This powder, which is of a green color, they preserve in little linen or cotton bags, and term it lillo. They use it at their meals and in their cookery,-putting a pinch or two into their food, in the same manner as we do pepper and salt, not so much with an idea of giving a relish to the dish, as with a view to preserve their health, to keep up a perpetual and plentiful perspiration, and to temper the too great heat of their blood; purposes which, if we may credit the reports of several Europeans, it is admirably calculated for. There is an epidemic fever, which rages in parts of Africa generally during the months of September and October, when the rains having on a sudden ceased, the sun exhales the water left by them upon the ground, and fills the air with noxious vapors. During this critical season, a light decoction prepared from the leaves of the Baobad tree, gathered the preceding year and carefully dried in the shade, is reckoned a most serviceable remedy. Nor is the fruit less valuable than the leaves or bark. The pulp, in which the seeds are enveloped, forms a very grateful, cooling, and slightly acid food, and is often eaten as a treat by the natives: the richer sort amongst them mix sugar with it to correct its acidity. The woody bark of the fruit, and the fruit itself when spoiled, help to supply the Negroes with an excellent soap, which they procure by drawing a lye from its ashes, and by boiling it with rancid palm-oil. In Abyssinia, the wild bees penetrate the trunks of the Baobab for the sake of lodging their honey within them. This honey is said to possess a very peculiar and delicious fragrance and a very agreeable flavor, on which account it is more esteemed and sought after than any other. The trunks on such of these trees as are decayed serve, when hollowed out, as tombs and burialplaces for the poets, musicians, and buffoons of the tribe. Characters of this description are in great esteem amongst the Negroes while living: they erroneously ascribe to them talents superior to the rest of their fellow creatures; which peculiar gifts they are supposed to derive from a commerce with demons, sorcerers, and bad spirits. This causes them, during their life-time, to be much respected and courted by their various and respective tribes; but their bodies, after death, are far from being treated with this respect; on the contrary, they are regarded with so great a horror, that they deny them the rights of burial-neither suffering them to be put beneath the ground, nor to be thrown into the sea or rivers, from a superstitious dread that the water thus dishonored would refuse to nourish the fish, and that the earth would fail to produce its fruits. The bodies, then, in order to get rid of them in some manner without degrading either the sea or land, they enclose in the hollow trunks of the trees, where, in the course of ages, they become quite dry and sapless, without actually rotting, and form in that manner a description of mummy without the help of embalming. PLANTING. The shop keeper turns his capital once in a week, or a month. The farmer turns his money once in a year; but the forest planter must discard the commercial maxim, "a small profit and a quick return," for he can scarcely turn his capital once in his life time. Still, however, nothing can pay better than the planting of waste lands with forest trees. Oaks, pines, ash, sycamore, elms and poplars, will give more profit than ferns, heaths, and rushes; and a practical man, with four laborers under him, could superintend five hundred acres. A man cannot amass a large property for his children by a small outlay, so surely as by planting. Plantations are experimentally found, by the annual casting of their leaves, to lend material aid to the encouragement of the fine and more nourishing grasses; while, at the same time, they cause the destruction of the heath and other coarser productions of vegetation. By the influence of this annual top-dressing, hundreds, nay thousands of acres, have been rendered worth from five to ten shillings an acre instead of from sixpence to, at the utmost, two shillings. Whoever knows any thing of the comparative value of heath and greensward pasture, will allow that the advantages of converting the one into the other are very moderately stated at the above rates; and this wonder ful transformation is made without the slightest assistance from human art, save that of putting suitable plants. The annual pruning of trees by the knife, makes them grow with great vigor. By experiment it appeared that plants which were pruned, advanced at the rate of four years in six before those which were not pruned. This treatment should be attended to every year, either winter or summer, or after they have been planted out. Lawn trees, groups, or outlines of plantations, should seldom be touched, or, at least, without a knowledge of picturesque effect. Were the proprietors of plantations sensible of the injury they do their posterity, they would no longer ignorantly, and, it may be said of many, obstinately, neglect this necessary improvement. In the common course of gardening, it is found that pruning invigorates the tree, and that trainingoff judiciously the large side branches, makes the upright ones shoot the stronger. This doctrine will apply to all trees, particularly to the whole tribe of firs; it will undoubtedly substitute clear wood for knots; and, of all this management, from their particular uses, the latter, of all other trees, stand in most need, and will be most improved by it. This operation will advance the quality nearer to that of foreign timber; for it may be traced, that where trees are tall and clear of boughs or knots, (by cutting the branches close to the stem) the whole substance of the wood is better, and of finer grain; and it appears likely that such will always be the case. The practice of cutting off large limbs to improve the timber should decidedly be condemned; we may daily see the deplorable effects of it. By judicious pruning and thinning every year, it will be found that poor land is converted by these means to a good purpose, and at a trifling expense. RAILWAYS. Before the establishment of the Liverpool and Manchester railway, there were twenty-two regular, and about seven occasional extra coaches, between those places, which, in full, could only carry, per day, 688 persons. The railway, from its commencement, carried 700,000 persons in eighteen months, being an average of 1070 per day. It has not been stopped for a single day. There has occurred but one fatal accident on it in eighteen months. The fare by coach was 10s. inside, and 5s. outside; by railway it is 5s. inside, and 3s. 6d. outside. The time occupied in making the journey by coach was four hours; by railway it is one hour and three quarters. All the coaches but one have ceased running, and that chiefly for the conveyance of parcels. The mails all travel by the railway, at a saving to government of two-thirds of the expense. The railway coaches are more commodious than others; the travelling is cheaper, safer, and easier. A great deal of traffic which used to go by other roads comes now by railway: both time and money are saved, though the length of the journey may be often increased. The proportion of passengers carried by railway over those carried by coach has been 22 to 10 in winter, and 17 or 18 to 10 in summer. A regiment of soldiers has been carried by the railway from Manchester to Liverpool in two hours. Gentlemen's carriages are conveyed on tracks by the railway. The locomotive travels in safety after dark. The rate of carriage of goods is 10s. per ton; by canal it used to be 15s. per ton. |