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plain, the lofty ice-crowned mountain, alike manifest the presence of that power which pervades the whole visible creation. Well has the poet expressed this in the following invocation:
“ Spirit of nature! This is thy fitting temple!
Where not the lightest leaf
That quivers to the passing breeze, But is instinct with thee!!! With minds thus prepared to be affected by the sublimity of the scenes we must now imagine, let us proceed to examine the origin and nature of those immense masses of ice which are termed glaciers, and which are found on the summits of high mountains. When we ascend from the surface of the earth into the higher regions of the atmosphere, we find that the air becomes rarefied; the sun's rays, which impart warmth, are reflected round us with less intensity, and a sense of coldness is experienced. Saussure, in travelling over the Alps, found that the temperature of the air diminished one degree for every two hundred and eighty-seven feet that he ascended. Dr. Heberden, in journeying *ver the Azores, found the thermometer fall one degree for every two hundred and forty-five feet. A thermometer, placed on the top of Arthur's Seat, will stand three degrees lower than another kept in a situation on a level with its base. Accordingly, it is found that snow exists in all countries at a certain height above the level of the sea, and this particular height is designated the “snow line." We must now, then, picture to ourselves a lofty chain of mountains - the range of the majestic Alps. When the traveller has ascended one of these mountains, he finds himself surrounded by colossal masses of ice. The snow which falls in these high regions is finer, drier, and more crystalline than that which, falling through a denser atmosphere more charged with vapor, reaches the lower region of the mountains. Most truly has the poet, in contemplating the summit of Mont Blanc, said — “ Mont Blanc yet gleams on bigh: The power is toereThe still and solemn power of many sights.
Rapid and strong—but silently." The snow which thus accumulates on the tops of these mountains, agglomerates in a slow and irregular manner, under the form of grains, into considerable masses, which, during the summer, are exposed to continual changes of temperature. The very keen cold of the night renders the surface of the mass so hard, that the footstep of the traveller makes no impression on it. The intense heat of the succeeding day, however, separates anew the snowy grains, and the water so melted, penetrating into the interstices thus produced, enlarges each grain by congealing round it. This operation proceeding for a considerable period, and on a great scale, at length gives rise to so compact a crystallized mass, that the rays of the sun have not power to melt it; instead of which, they produce an expansion of the air within the glacier, which gives rise to sudden and violent rents at the surface, which are often of considerable magnitude. “ One day,” says Professor Hugi, who explored the glaciers of the Alps, "being on the inferior glacier of the Aar during an intense heat, at three o'clock, P. M. I heard a very peculiar noise. I advanced rapidly from thirty to forty paces from the side where the noise was heard; I felt the mass of the glacier shake by jolts under my feet, and I soon discovered the cause. A fissure was formed in an instant, the aperture was
elongated from twelve to twenty feet, so that I was unable to follow its formation. Sometimes the operation seemed about to cease, and the mass separated itself very slowly; then, again, the fissure continued to open quickly, and by jolts. Many times I ran forward in time to see the separation taking place under my feet. I followed in this way the formation of the fissure over an extent of almost a quarter of a league, even to the border of the glacier, where it stopped. The fissure opened at first, under the first concussion, about an inch and a half, but afterwards it again contracted, so that its breadth did not attain to more than an inch. The interior of this fissure was rough and unequal; a part of the crystals were broken into two, and others almost untouched formed projections to wbich there were corresponding hollows in the opposite surface. **** During the whole of my stay on the inferior glacier of the Aar, we were awaked every night twice or thrice by the subterranean noises which proceeded from the interior of the glacier. Twice the bed itself, which we had dug in the glacier, and which was lined with slates and moss, was violently shaken by jolts analogous to those which I had observed during the formation of the fissure; but the shaking appeared so deeply seated, that we could not for a moment entertain the idea that any rent or crevice would open at the surface.” Here we may for a moment pause, to reflect on the awe. inspiring effect of such a scene. It has been well described by Lord Byron, who has put these words into the lips of the gloomy and desperate Manfred:
“ Ye toppling crags of ice!
And hanlet of the harmless villager.” In connexion with the rifts thus produced in these glaciers, we may quote the following observations and anecdote by Mr. Bohr, who visited the glaciers on one of the high mountains in the interior of Norway:-" It is not,” says he," without terror that you look down into these fearful abysses, however beautiful their azure-colored walls are. In their cold bottoms the lonely traveller has sometimes found his grave. A few years ago, a peasant crossing over from Justedal to Nordford, fell into one of these large clefts, which was concealed by the snow.
His only companion, a faithful dog, ran down to Justedal, barking and howling as a signal for help. Nobody, however, comprehended his meaning, till the person who had fallen down was at last missed. Several persons then followed the dog up to the glacier, who stopped at the cleft, and gave such signs as put it beyond all doubt that his master had fallen into it. They threw down a rope, and made loud cries, but in vain; the peasant had met his death in the immeasurable gulf. It was only by compulsion that the dog would leave the cleft.
THE GUILLOTINE. This instrument of judicial punishment in France derives its name from a Dr. Guillotin, one of the most distinguished physicians in Paris, and a person who embraced with ardor the cause of the revolution, and was selected one of the Deputies to the National Assembly. It is supposed by many that Guillotin was one of the first sufferers by the
instrument which bears his name; but it seems this was not the case. The following notice of him has been translated from the Biographe Universelle, by a writer in a London newspaper:
“Guillotin conducted himself with moderation in the National Assembly: he directed his attention there to different objects of public utility, among others, to the plan for the organization of the Faculty of Medicine; and he took a part in the most remarkable resolutions of that body when it became the Constituent Assembly. After it had decided that crimes were personal, Guillotin proposed to substitute decapitation for other punishments, on the ground that, in the opinion of Frenchmen, that species of death did not attach infamy to the family of the criminal. The proposition was adopted: its author then pointed out a machine, which had been long known, as proper for the infliction of death, without giving any pain to the sufferer. Men of the best character at that time applauded the humane motives of the philanthropic deputy in selecting this instrument of punishment. Unfortunately for Guillotin, some wags gave his name to the machine, of which he was not the inventor, and which he had only brought into notice. Still more unfortunately, this machine became, in the hands of the ruffians who were masters of France during two years—the duration of which was equivalent to more than two centuries—the instrument of the most horrible vengeance, of the most odious crimes; and Guillotin, who was himself imprisoned, and ready to figure as a victim in the daily scenes of carnage with which our infamous tyrants glutted themselves, had a thousand times to grieve at seeing his name attached to the devastating axe with which the cannibals had armed their executioners. One feels astonished that Guillotin had not solicited permission from the government to relinquish a name which from that time must have been unsupportable to him. After the termination of his political career, Guillotin resumed the functions of a physician, which it would have been perhaps better for his own repose if he had never quitted. "He enjoyed, up to his last moments, the esteem of all who knew him. Dr. Guillotin died on the 26th of May, 1814, aged seventy-six."
place, owing to the escape of blood from the torn vessels. Afterwards, from the excited action of the vessels, the fluid which lubricates the joint is increased in quantity, and the joint permanently deformed. “ Attentive examination (says the surgeon) is required to guard against mistakes, the existence or non-existence either of displacement or of fracture, must be at once ascertained by determined and perfect manipulation; the parts must be pressed and moved to such an extent as is necessary, notwithstanding the pain thereby occasioned, and notwithstanding the resistance afforded by the patient.” This caution is necessary, because one or more of the small bones of the rist are often displaced; and fracture of the fore arm, and even separation of one bone of the fore arm from the other, are accidents of by no means rare occurrence. haps,” says Mr. Liston, “no injury is more frequently mismanaged by those both out and in the profession. Every old woman thinks she can manage a sprain; most absurd and hurtful measures are resorted to; cold lotions and cold effusions are employed, and at the same time stimulating frictions; probably attempts are made, either by leaching or by puncturing, to extract the effused blood; and many similar follies are committed.
The proper treatment appears certainly to consist in absolute rest. If there is any displacement, it musbe rectified immediately. If there is any fracture, or if there is a tendency to redisplacement after reduction, or if the patient is restless either from folly or insensibility,
a splint or splints must be applied, to secure the immobility of the part, at the same time without such compression as may interfere with swelling from effusion (or escape of the watery part of the blood underneath the skin), which is a salutary process, and ought to be encouraged. By absolute rest, the extent of the swelling is limited, and inflammation warded off. Fomentations properly employed afford much relief.
The integuments soon become relaxed during the regular use of fomentation. * * * The swelling then abates, and is no longer hard; it pits on pressure, and the skin has a puckered appear
Then gentle friction becomes advantageous, and uniform support should be afforded by the application of a flannel roller. The longer the limb is disused, the more perfect and rapid is the recovery, provided the rest of the cure is properly conducted. In general, nothing more than what has been stated is required. But if the limb be moved in any way early, then necessity will arise perhaps for bleeding; certainly copious and repeated abstractions of blood by leeches, accompanied with fomentations, and the internal exhibition of antimonials, purgatives, &c. When such is the case, the cure is tedious; the joint long remains swelled and stiff; the patient islame, and incapable of exertion. Leeching or puncturing at an early period, with the view of allowing extravasated blood to escape, is useless and hurtful. *** Friction, with stimulating liniments, or even simple friction at an early period, is also hurtful, tending to excite the action of the vessels, and to convert simple swelling into inflammatory. The application of cold at any period is of little use, and ought certainly to be avoided immediately after the injury, as adding to the sufferings of the patient, and interfering with the natural processes that have commenced for the reparation of that injury. In limbs that have remained stiff after severe and mismanaged sprain, the dashing of water, either cold or tepid, has been strongly
TREATMENT OF SPRAINS.
No accident occurs perhaps more frequently than that of sprain, wherefore we have thought some information concerning the nature of this accident, and the manner in which it should be treated, will not be unacceptable to our readers. We find in Mr. Liston's Elements of Surgery the following observations:
Sprain is generally occasioned by a fall, the foot or hand coming awkwardly to the ground, the muscles being at the same time relaxed and unprepared; by over-exertion in listing heavy weights; by entanglement and twisting of the limb, &z. The ankle is often sprained by what is called ' a false step;' the fore part of the foot comes into contact with an obstacle unexpectedly; the foot is twisted under the limb; the weight of the body is thrown on the apparatus of one side of the joint, and this is in consequence immoderately and unnaturally stretched." Such is one of the most frequent ways in which this accident occurs.
Then follows violent pain, and the patient feels sick and faint: the part injured becomes discolored, and a rapid swelling takes
recommended: the practice is not ineffectual; the vessels of the surface are excited, perhaps, as by other friction, and perhaps by the reaction which follows the chill. But the limb is apt to become rheumatic, and, on this account, the state of matters will not be improved by this proceeding, unless it be resorted to with proper precautions." Such are the recommendations of this skilful surgeon for the general management of sprains, which are often very troublesome, and require the treatment of a judicious medical practitioner
HALL OF THE JACOBINS. Of the clubs of Paris the most influential in its day and for a long while afterwards, was that of the Jacobins, so called from its place of meeting, the Convent of the Jacobins in the Rue St. Honoré. The Jacobin Club had been originally established at Versailles, while the National Assembly sat ihere, by a few of the members of that body; but after it was transferred to Paris along with the legislature, it very soon began to open its doors to persons of much more violent politics than those of which it had at first consisted. It became in fact the nightly rendezvous of many of the most turbulent spirits of the capital, who gradually obtained such a sway over its deliberations that it was abandoned by most of its original members. The people, however, as we have said, continued to act upon the legislature throngh this, and similar societies,
with an immense and daily increasing influence. But they did not long confine themselves merely to this manner of demonstrating their strength.
On the 18th of April, 1791, the King and the rest of the royal family had made preparations to leave the Tuileries for the Palace at St. Cloud; but before they had entered the carriage the tocsin had been sounded from the neighboring church of St. Roch, and a mob had collected in the Place du Carrousel, who continued to vociferate with a determined accent that the king should not leave the capital. His majesty's object in going to St. Cloud, they said, was only that he might have a better opportunity of making his escape from France.
It was in vain that Lafayette and Bailly used every effort to induce them to give way; and even the national guards refused to obey the orders of their commander to disperse the people. The consequence was, that the royal family were obliged to give up their design, and return to their apartments. It was upon this occasion that Lafayette, indignant at the treatment he had received, threw up his command; which he was only prevailed upon to take
back some days afterwards on the earnest solicitations of the municipality, and the solemn promises of the troops themselves that they would in future yield him implicit obedience. As for the king, whatever his intentions may have been up to this time, he now certainly cherished the wish to escape, natural to a prisoner. No favorable opportunity of carrying his purpose into effect presented itself for some weeks; but on the night of the 20th of June, he and the queen, accompanied by the Dauphin and the princess Elizabeth, secretly left the Tuileries. They succeeded in getting out of the city, and took the road towards Montmedy, with the intention of afterwards throwing themselves into the strongly fortified town of Luxembourg, on the frontiers of the Low Countries, which was then in possession of the Emperor. But they were retaken on the third day of their flight at the town of Varennes, in the province of Lorraine, when more than twothirds of their journey had been performed, and were brought back to Paris. They arrived at the Tuileries on the evening of the 25th ; and next morning the Assembly declared the authority of the king to be suspended, and his person under arrest.
Hannah Moore.—This lady died recently, at Clinton, in the 80th year of her age. Few literary persons have had the good fortune to reap so plentiful a harvest of fame during their lives; and yet, we doubt whether, at this moment, more than one or two of her works be known, even by name, to the ma. jority of our readers—the reader being, it is presumed, under five and twenty. Mrs. Hannah Moore was an amiable and accomplished lady, with much practical and worldly wisdom, and very strong religious feelings ; her writings were addressed to a large and influential class, and their temporary success was proportionally great; but there is no trace in them of that original mind-or of that subtle developement of human feel. ings, in its weakness and its strength, which can alone insure even the immortality of a life time to a writer who has the fortune, good or ill, of living to eighty. Mrs. Hannah Moore came early into the literary world, ticketed and labeled, and patronized as a prodigy. She was introduced to Garrick, and Burke, and Reynolds, and Johnson, and Horace Walpole, and others, whose good word was fame, and she humored and flattered them, and was humored and flattered in return. Her first literary patron was Garrick, and she wrote tragedies: she was subsequently the bosom friend of Porteus, Bishop of London ; and she denounced the theatre in its then state—as if it were different from its ordinary state-as not fit to be countenanced by a Christian people.
** Mrs. Hannah Moore was the daughter of an humble village schoolmaster in the neighborhood of Bristol, who was eren unable to provide for her instruction in the ordinary accomplishments of female education; and she was indebted to the kindness of some neighboring ladies for those advantages. Her undoubted talent and exemplary conduct soon interested others in her behalf; and by their assistance she was enabled to open a school, by which,
with her literary labors in aid, she in a few years accumulated a very handsome fortune.
* The only one of her works likely to be met with, except among very young people, is · Cælebs in Search of a Wife, published in 1809, and which went through ten editions in a iwelve month, we doubt whether ten copies be now sold in the same time. Her tragedies—The Inflexible Captive-PercyThe Fatal Falsehood-must be considered as utterly forgotten by the public. Early patronized herself, Mrs. Moore loved to play the patron ; and in 1785 brought forward a Mrs. Yearsley, a milk woman, at Bristol, a poetical prodigy; her friends had a voice potential—and the public admired ; the woman grew insolent upon her success; and the patron had to explain and excuse herself to friends against misrepresentation and abuse ; the quarrel put an extinguisher on the prodigy; and except perhaps, Dr. Southey, who has a crop for all corn, and is a native of Bristol, it is more than probable that not a single literary man could be found who had ever read a line of Mrs. Yearsley's poetry. In 1804, Mrs. Moore published · Hints towards forming the Character of a Young Princess,'
written, it was said, expressly at the suggestion of Her late Majesty. Of its merits we know nothing : having no Princesses entrusted to our charge, we never read the book. Mrs. Hannah Moore was singularly, and not undeservedly, successful through life; her talents and her moral conduct deserved to be, but we think she was one of those few literary persons who had their reward while living."
One of the chief sources of natural wealth which New Zealand possesses, consists in the abundance and variety of the fish which frequent its coasts. Wherever he went, Captain Cook, in his different visits to the two islands, was amply supplied with this description of food, of which he says, that six or eight men, with hooks and lines, would in some places catch daily enough to serve the whole ship's company. Among the different species which are described as being found, we may mention mackerel, lobsters, crawfish, a sort called by the sailors colefish, which Cook says was both larger and finer than any he had seen before, and was, in the opinion of
most on board, the highest luxury the sea afforded Ethem; the herring, the founder, and a fish resem
bling the salmon. To these may be added, besides many other species of shell-fish, mussels, cockles, and oysters.
The seas in the neighborhood of New Zealand also, we ought not to forget to add, are much frequented by whales, which,
besides the value of their blubber, are greatly prized by the natives for the sake of their Hesh, which they consider a first rate delicacy The New Zealanders are extremely expert in fishing. They are also admirable divers, and Rutherford states that they will bring up live fish from the deepest waters, with the greatest certainty. The hooks and other implements for fishery, which they make of bone, are of various forms. The following are specimens:
BY SAMUEL LEITH, ESQ. Lithography is the art of printing from stone. It is only of recent invention, and differs very considerably in principle from the art of printing from movable types, wooden blocks, or copper or other plates. The process consists in writing on a particular kind of stone, and from thence working off, by a press, any number of copies, the writing thus standing in relief on the stone like raised letters. The peculiar value of this ingenious art is in the cheapness and ease with which it accomplishes impressions of pictorial delineations or manuscript. The discovery of the lithographic art was made, upwards of thirty years since, by Senefelder, a native of Germany a country to which the human race is also indebted for the more noble art of printing from types; but since that period very great improvements have been made upon it in Britain.
The history of the origin of lithography is instructive, and affords to the young an additional instance of the triumph of genius over poverty and its attendant disadvantages. Like every new invention, when first attempted to be brought into notice, it met with all the obstacles which ignorance and prejudice could throw in its way; and it was not till after years of laborious perseverance, accompanied with all the evils attendant on very limited means, that the inventor succeeded in establishing his reputation, and gaining for the new art its due degree of admiration.
Senefelder relates, with the greatest candor, that having become an author, and at the same time being so poor that he could not raise the necessary funds for the printing of his work with a view to publication, he endeavored to devise some method by which his object might be attained; and, after much anxious consideration, he resolved on attempting to accomplish it with his own hands. With this view, his attention was first directed to several original and curious modes of stereotype, some of which he considerably matured; and had his circumstances, at this period been such as to admit of his devoting a sufficient time to the perfecting of this first part of his undertaking, it is questionable whether his talents would have ever been forced into that particular line of study, which, in the end, acquired for his name so great a celebrity. The same
hint on which hinged all his succeeding improvements.
Having now briefly adverted to some of the leading incidents which ultimately led to the discovery of chemical lithography, we shall next proceed to the notice of such particulars concerning the progress of the new art under the fostering care of it author, as may be thought generally interesting.
Let it not be imagined that Senefelder's difficulties ceased with this discovery: the fact is otherwise; for, in addition to the many obstacles which he had to combat from lacking the necessary funds for the prosecution of his labors, others were not wanting of a nature equally serious, and which were to him the source of long and painful anxiety. Among the rest, it was not a little annoying to know that others were beginning to lay claim to the merit of a new discovery But these, and other particulars connected with this part of our subject, must form matter for a future article.
remark is applicable to some of the other ingenious attempts which preceded his great discovery. For a time, however, plan succeeded plan, each being abandoned in turn, as new and more plausible theories struck his fancy, and in this way did he persevere, for many months, with various degrees of success, but without the necessary results; and he at last relinquished this course of experiments altogether, as presenting too many obstacles to be overcome by an individual in his circumstances.
Disappointed, but not disheartened, in not having been so successful in his operations as he had anticipated, we next find him attempting to realize his hopes by substituting plates of copper and tin for his metal and composition blocks; but this second course of experiments was attended with little better success than the former; for, after much labor, and numerous trials with the etching needle, and by writing on the copper with different chymical inks of his own composition, this medium was found to be liable to all the objections which had deterred him from prosecuting the stereotype plan. Being, however, still of the opinion that his object was to be accomplished by art alone, and having laid aside his copper plates for a time as too expensive, he began to look around for a substitute which would supply their place for all the purposes of practice, and at a much less cost. He was not long in determining this point; for, being aware that certain kinds of stone had often been used for similar purposes, he converted the slab on which he ground his colors into a plate for exercising in writing, and found it answered his expectations completely. Experiments now followed each other in rapid succession, all tending to encourage him in the prosecution of his design; and when at length these stone plates were rendered fit for undergoing the operations of the printing press, he was greatly pleased to find that numerous impressions might be taken on paper, without materially injuring the original.
We shall now at once advert to the time when circumstances conspired to force upon his attention those properties of the art which, on their first unfolding themselves, so astonished and delighted him. “I had (says he) just succeeded in my little laboratory in polishing a stone plate which I intended to cover with etching ground, in order to continue my exercises in writing backwards, when my mother entered the room, and desired me to write her a bill for the washer-woman, who was waiting for the lin
I happened not to have even the smallest slip of paper at hand, as my little stock of paper had been entirely exhausted by taking proof-impressions from the stones; nor was there even a drop of ink in the inkstand. As the matter would pot admit of delay, and we had nobody in the house to send for a supply of the deficient materials, I resolved to write the list with my chemical ink, on the stone which I had just polished, and from which I could copy it at leisure."
When about to remove this writing from the stone some time afterwards, the idea struck him, that, by submitting its surface to the action of aquafortis, such an elevation might be given to the writing as would render it suitable, in the same way as woodengravings, for receiving printing ink. The experiment exceeded his most sanguine hopes, and he lost no time in following up his success with others, all tending to convince him that he had discovered a new and important art.
Thus it will be seen, that, to a very simple occurrence in itself, Senefelder was indebted for the
THE ITALIAN SLEEP-WALKER. In the recently-published cheap and elegant edition of Goldsmith's works, forming part of the series of publications entitled " The British Library,"we are presented with many pieces not hitherto generally known as the productions of the ingenious author of the Vicar of Wakefield. Among others, is the following little sketch, descriptive of a remarkable instance of walking in sleep:
It has often been a question in the schools, whether it be preferable to be a king by day, and a beggar in our dreams by night; or, inverting the question, a beggar by day, and a monarch while sleeping? It has been usually decided, that the sleeping monarch was the happiest man, since he is supposed to enjoy all his happiness without contamination; while the monarch in reality feels the various inconveniences that attend his station.
However this may be, there are none sure more miserable than those who enjoy neither situation with any degree of comfort, but feel all the inconveniences of want and poverty by day, while they find a repetition of their misery in a dream. this kind was the famous Cyrillo Padovano, of whom a long life has been written; a man, if I may so express it, of a double character, who acted a very different part by night from what he professed in the day. Cyrillo was a native of Padua, in Italy, a little brown-complexioned man, and, while awake, remarkable for his simplicity, probity, piety, and candor; but, unfortunately for him, his dreams were of the strongest kind, and seemed to overturn the whole system of waking morality; for he every night walked in his sleep, and, upon such occasions, was a thief, a robber, and a plunderer of the dead.
The first remarkable exploit we are told of Cyrillo; was at the university, where he showed no great marks of learning, though some of assiduity. Upon a certain occasion, his master set him a very long and very difficult exercise, which Cyrillo found it impossible, as he supposed, to execute. Depressed with this opinion, and in certain expectation of being chastised the next day, he went to bed quite dejected and uneasy; but awaking in the morning, to his great surprise he found his exercise, completely and perfectly finished, lying upon his table, and, still more extraordinary, written in his own hand. This information he communicated to his master when he gave up his task, who, being equal