As small amount that is just sufficient to keep mentum producing dispersion must be as her revolving round the sun, she will be sep-great as the momentum acquired by aggrearated from his surface by a minimum of gation; and being spread over the same space. It is true that friction against the quantity of matter, must cause an equivalent photosphere, or collision against his surface, distribution through space, whatever be the as when a cannon-ball grazes the surface of form of matter."+ Now this would be true water, might not improbably reduce the enough if we conceived the stars as gravitatearth to a gaseous state; but Mr. Spencer's ing towards one another in straight lines, argument would demand, as will be seen unrestrained by any energy of centrifugal from the next paragraph, that not only the power (though, even in this case, part of remnant of centrifugal energy, but also the their energy would be dissipated as ætherial original energy of position, should be so con- friction, and thus after an infinite number of verted; which is clearly impossible, that cycles, the same result which we are conenergy having been already communicated templating would be brought about). But to the æther. In fact, the "dissolution" we have already seen reasons for believing thus contemplated would only be local and that the sidereal bodies are prevented from temporary; as the sun would at once begin rushing together by centrifugal energy. to radiate off the heat thus added to his in the solar system, then, so too in the galtotal, and to draw in his skirts to a corres- axy, before the various bodies composing it ponding extent. So that the ultimate ag- could aggregate, they must have dissipated gregation is really accelerated by this ap- all their energy, and when they meet at their parent exception: for the energy which common centre, they will probably unite would have been but slowly dissipated as with a minimum of shock, quite insufficient centrifugal power by friction, is rapidly dis- to produce any very violent disintegration of sipated as heat by radiation. their molecules. They cannot possibly have communicated their energy to the æther, and yet retain it in their own masses. So that the general conclusion to which we are led is this: aggregation by means of force can only take place after energy, having passed from the potential to the kinetic state, and then from matter to æther, has been disipated into space in every solar system, and in the sidereal system generally, all bodies are slowly dissipating their energy and aggregating round their common centres; and when, in each system, and in the kosmos as a whole, such dissipation is completed, there will be left a central inert mass of ponderable matter, reduced to its least possible dimensions (if any), surrounded by a space filled with æther, through which waves of energy are being propagated to infinity. Mr. Spencer, however, continues his argument a little farther on, in relation to the galaxy generally. "If so relatively small a "If so relatively small a momentum as that acquired by the earth in falling into the sun, would be equivalent to a molecular motion sufficient to reduce the earth to gases of extreme rarity; what must be the molecular motion generated by the mutually-arrested momenta of two stars, that have moved to their common centre of gravity through spaces immeasurably greater? There seems no alternative but to conclude, that it would be great enough to reduce the matter of the stars to an almost inconceivable tenuity-a tenuity like that which we ascribe to nebular matter."* And after a further development of this idea, he sums up the question with reference to the kosmos at large as follows: "If stars concentrating to a common centre of gravity, eventually reach it, then the quantities of motion they have acquired must suffice to carry them away again to those remote regions whence they started. And since, by the conditions of the case, they cannot return to these remote regions in the shape of concrete masses, they must return in the shape of diffused masses. Action and reaction being equal and opposite, the mo * "First Principles," § 182, p. 533. The only hypothesis upon which I can suppose Mr. Spencer's theory of dissolution, followed by re-evolution, to be true, is one which may seem at first sight a little grotesque, but which will serve better to illustrate my meaning than any other I know of. For clearness' sake we will confine our attention to our own solar system, and will suppose that no other exists. We will then imagine the space in which it moves to be exactly + Ibid., p. 535. spherical, and to be bounded by a perfect reflector of energy. We have here a "closed system," such as is nowhere known to exist in nature. All the space inside this hollow reflecting sphere is filled with æther. The radiant energy given off by the sun and planets as they cool, and the energy communicated to the æther by the planets in the course of their gradual approximation to the sun, pass outward through this æther toward the reflecting sphere. Meanwhile, the matter aggregates, first round the minor centres of the planets, and then finally round the centre of the whole system, the sun. At last, all the matter has been packed into a minimum space in the very centre of the sphere, and all the energy is coursing through the æther, and surging against the reflector which confines it. Here it is once more driven back, and begins to set inward again in waves of ever-increasing density toward the centre. Arrived once more at the surface of the now solid globe, which contains the de-energized matter of the system, it sets up disjunctive motion of its molecules and atoms, until it has a second time expanded it to its original dimensions. As soon as all the energy has been re-integrated, and the matter has assumed the nebulous state, we may conceive the reverse process to commence, and a new evolution to succeed. And so the alternate rhythm might continue unaltered from eternity to eternity. Now, manifestly absurd as this hypothesis is when applied to our solar system, it is possible that something analogous to it may be true of the galaxy at large. If we regard space and æther as absolutely infinite, then we have no alternative but to suppose that energy will go on for ever coursing through the boundless void; but if we imagine the æther to float in empty space, and to be limited in extent, then we might suppose the outer verge of æther to act as the imaginary reflector of the preceding paragraph. Or we might fancy space as filled with many galaxies, each floating in its own æther, and each undergoing a similar rhythm. In that case, we might picture to ourselves the waves of energy from each galaxy as clash ing at their contiguous edges, in a sort of meeting of the cosmical tides, and thence turned back again toward their centres as before. But any such speculations involve the concepts of infinite space and time, in dealing with which we deal with symbols which cannot be rendered into terms of consciousness, and on which, consequently, no reliance can be placed. are I set down this last fanciful speculation for what it may be worth, as many would not willingly give up the belief in a perpetual alternation of evolution and dissolution. But, for my own part, I must confess that when I reflect upon the limitations of our conceptive faculty, the relativity of our knowledge to our nervous organization, and the consequent necessity which we under to represent to ourselves all the modifications of the kosmos in terms of our sensations; when I consider our absolute ignorance of the real nature of an atom, of the relation between matter and æther, and of the mode by which energy is propagated through the intellectual medium; it seems to me that we have done quite enough, when we have traced out in phenomenal symbols the evolution of the kosmos from its state as a diffused energetic nebula, to its state as a concentrated de-energized mass; and that any inquiry into its earlier or later modifications, if such there were or will be, lies beyond the range of our existing faculties. In conclusion, I shall only add, that some errors and misconceptions at least are to be found, no doubt, in the preceding pages. It could hardly be otherwise, when the ground to be covered was so vast. I trust, however, that they will be forgiven by those who may detect them, if the general views enunciated here be found correct. To original experimental researches I make no pretence; I only generalize upon the data furnished by others. But I have endeavoured to systematize what seemed to me scattered and nebulous. I trust my paper may be accepted in this light, as giving a clearer conception of the real relations between the great powers which form its theme. BALLADS OF THE SCAFFOLD. BY GEORGE STEWART, JR., ST. JOHN, N. B. L The ESS than forty years ago, a public ex- | attendant evils which always characterize ecution was looked upon by the vulgar the exhibition of the executioner's finishing masses of society as a diverting spectacle- stroke to the wrong-doer's career. a free exhibition to which all might attend, as crowds assembling in earlier days were invaone goes to a theatre or visits a circus. The riably composed of the members of the lower affair was well advertised through the columns ranks, though at times, in rare instances, of the local newspapers, and on the morning men of mind and intellect were found enjoyof the day set apart for the "hanging," lum- ing this propensity with them to the fullest bering waggons and huge carts from the out- extent. Thus, we hear of the celebrated wit lying districts might be seen coming into and humourist, George Selwyn, who died town laden with spectators [dressed in holi- about eighty years ago, a famous man in his day attire, and armed with hampers well day, and the companion and friend of such provided with solid and liquid nourishment, men as Horace Walpole, Lord Carlisle, the latter element predominating largely. Henry Lord Holland, Lord Abergavenny, These vehicles with their living freights were and others of equal power and brilliancy, on the ground, occupying available territory actually enjoying public executions. Selwyn's in full view of the ghastly instrument of passion for these spectacles amounted to death, and within hearing of the dull sound a mania, and numerous well-authenticated of the carpenter's hammer, as he drove his anecdotes are related of him anent thereto. nails deep into the rafters, and uttered his At one time, when Lord Lovat lost his head, ribald jest, long before the grey morning mist Selwyn, having attended the decapitation, had lifted, and the sun appeared to warm the was rallied on his want of feeling by a party cold, dark earth. As the hours sped by and of ladies, to whom he gave excuse: Why," morning broke, additions came rapidly to the said he, "I made ample amends by going to convened concourse, the preparations on the the undertaker's and seeing it sewed on gallows were completed, the hollow sound of again." This was a fact, and it seems all the the death-bell fell like a knell upon the air, more surprising, because Selwyn was a man the condemned criminal tremblingly marched of rare benevolence and tenderness of nature. to his doom, and the coarse crowd below for His wit was of the most subtle character, the moment ceased its loud laughter, and and his humour was always distinguished for jostled and swayed about like a mighty ship its delicacy and polish. Horace Walpole, in battling with the busy waves. Then, after the 1750, writes of this curious gentleman as customary "dying words" had been uttered one "whose passion it was to see coffins, by the doomed man, and the hangman had corpses and executions." finished his work, and a lifeless body hung in full view, the excited people indulged in riotous disturbances of the peace, and in the face of death enacted the most horrible scenes, unequalled since the days of the monster Jeffreys. Fortunately for civilization, public executions have in a measure been abolished. They never were calculated to check crime, nor intended as fearful examples to the populace. Drinking, blasphemy, fighting, and bloodshed have been the result, and low jests and vile profanations have been among the When that great statesman, Lord Holland, distinguished alike for his marvellous blunders as well as for his varied and brilliant attainments—a man resembling the elder Pitt, Lord Chatham, in some respects, and in other features appearing like the intellectual Foxlay upon his death-bed, he uttered, perhaps, one of the neatest bon-mots on record àpropos of Selwyn's ruling passion. Being informed that George had been inquiring for him, he said to his servant, "The next time Mr. Selwyn calls, show him up ; if I am alive, I shall be delighted to see him; and if I am dead, he will be glad to see me." When Selwyn went to a dentist's to have a tooth drawn, he dropped a handkerchief on the floor as the signal for the work to begin. Of course, as was the custom in old times, when every event was marked by the work of the poet and the poetaster, like, in our day; everything, whether it be a dinner to a noted individual or a supper to a special embassy; a poem must be read on the occasion and an oration be spoken. The executioner sang his songs, and the penny rhymester sold his ballads, and terrible inflictions and halting rhymes they were. These poems and ballads have been handed down from generation to generation, and in several instances are typical of the age in which they were penned. Thus those of the Elizabethan era and before it are of such a nature as to render them unfit for quotation. In later days, however, there is nothing beyond a coarseness and crudeness of style to be found in these ballads of the scaffold. They usually give short biographical sketches of the condemned, with an epitome of the deed committed, and a few moral reflections at the end, thrown in for the guidance of the depraved, and as a warning to all evil-doers. Ainsworth, in one of his historical novels, represents the executioner of the epoch described in the tale as sitting in his lonely room in the Tower, sharpening his axe and crooning to himself, in his old, curious, tuneless way, a little death-song, a sort of requiem for the departed. A famous man was this same executioner-a royal beheader—a man who had taken off the heads of many noted and historical personages. The night after poor ill-fated Lady Jane Gray lost her head, the old man sang, half meditatively, in his room, as he polished his glittering axe "Lady Jane laid her head upon the block, And here is the epitaph of another finisher of the law, the man who is supposed to have cut off the head of King Charles the First for thirty pounds sterling, all in half-crowns; Richard Brandon was his name: "Who do you think lies buried here? One that did help to make hemp dear. The poorest subjects did abhor him, And yet his king did kneel before him; He would his master not betray, Yet he his master did destroy, Brandon inherited his office from his father, who in turn received his wretched position to a kind of crane, employed by sailors prinfrom Derrick, a creature who gave his name weights. Derrick accompanied Essex, the cipally, for suspending and raising heavy favourite of Elizabeth, to Cadiz, on an expedition. While there he committed some outrage and was condemned to death, but Essex pardoned him at the last moment, and he was restored to liberty. By a singular the instrumentality of Essex, became Court revolution of fortune, when Derrick, through hangman, it subsequently became his duty to decapitate his preserver and patron. Å contemporary ballad, called "Essex's Good Night," represents the unfortunate nobleman as saying to Derrick : "Derrick, thou know'st at Cales I saved Thy life As thou thyself can testify. In "Hudibras" we find this epigram on the execution of Hugh Peters, by Dunn, who succeeded the Brandons. Dunn was followed by the notorious Jack Ketch, whose name, as we find in Macaulay, "has during a century and a half been vulgarly given to all who have succeeded him in his odious office :" "Behold the last and best edition So much for the poesy of the executioner. The poetry of the scaffold requires, in this connection, some mention. I have by me a number of the most singular and curious ballads ever published. These were picked up, or bought from hawkers and ballad-mongers who prosecuted their calling at the foot of the gallows. They form quite a motley and quaint collection, and might ap propriately enough find room in a second volume of curiosities of literature. Here is one descriptive of a brutal crime committed, like Eugene Aram's, in a lonely wood. The victim was a young girl, and her murderer was a man who had hitherto borne an unsullied reputation. He had held a high professional position, and was a member of an old and very much esteemed family; and when the story of his guilt was told, it struck a pang into many a heart. The whitened bones of the skeleton of the murdered girl were by accident discovered by some coloured children, in the forest, half-hidden by tangled brushwood; and the evidence, circumstantial at first, by the merest accident turned at a breathless and decisive moment, and broadly revealed the murderer in full light. He was adjudged guilty, condemned to die, and soon after was executed. The ballad-mongers had struck off a batch of verses, and they were sold about the streets and hawked from door to door. quote a few verses : "Come now to me, both one and all, A story I'll relate, The sorrow it is to us all, The truth I now must state. "Some negroes going through the wood, For berries were intent, In hopes of finding some for food, "Nor could we judge their great surprise, "They there concluded not to tell, For fear they'd come to harm, But did come out which happened well, Tho' causing much alarm. "Then officers went out from town, And through the day they also found "The bodies had been some time dead, Because the flesh was gone, Or else some foxes had been fed, "Toward evening they prepared for home, I "The court was opened; oh! how sad, "And now his trial-day has come, And crowds do go to hear; Their eyes are fixed upon the one A murderer's name does bear. "The sentence was that he must die For the deed that he has done, The day is drawing very nigh On which he's to be hung. "And now a word to all I'll speak And may you list to me : All those who the commandments break, Let this a warning be." The next story of a murder done is that of a young man of much promise and of good abilities, who, led on by intemperance, was tempted to commit a harrowing deed of blood. In a drunken fit he killed his wife, and, maddened by liquor, dashed out the brains of his infant daughter, who lay in the cradle, smiling in its sleep. The plea of insanity was of no avail, and he suffered the extreme penalty of the law. The author of the ballad written in commemoration of the event "reserves copyright and the right of publication." This is chiefly of the highly moral, reflective tone, and although there are thirty-six verses in all, these few will suffice to show the reader the general scope of the whole. We will open about the middle, where he speaks of the "young man : "And he with talent rich and rare, 66 66 Esteemed by men his talents were, His power to draught design, Lost to the world these talents are, 'How dreadful, awful, is the thought, Should expiate the crimes he wrought, "O young man shun the maelstrom's verge, Till in the vortex of its surge, You're lost in shame and sin." The reader will appreciate these tuneful utterances. The poet has a happy way of |