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floor became unstable, like water; he felt himself sinking rapidly; again he rose to the surface-he knew the gloomy pinetrees overhead; the grasp on his hand loosened; he saw the fair head of Bertha gasp in its death-agony amid the waters; the blue eyes met his; the stream flung her towards him; her arms closed round his neck with a deadly weight; down, down they sank beneath the dark river together-and to eternity."-N. Y. Mirror.
RELICS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. THE indefatigable Mr. John Deane, of Gosport, has assembled what he terms a "Cabinet of Submarine Recoveries, Relics, and Antiquities from the bed of the Sea and various Wrecks;" of which he proposes to publish a Series of Pictorial Illustrations. The annexed Engraving is a specimen of these curiosities of the deep, and represents a Bottle, with oysters, &c., recovered by Mr. Deane from the wreck of the Royal George, which we take to be the most interesting of all the submerged vessels that have been visited and inspected, by aid of the diving-bell or other apparatus. To this stupendous wreck we believe Mr. Deane to have first riveted public attention; on which account, as well as for his persevering ingenuity, we hope to see the above work of our "submarine engineer" liberally patronized by the public.
Many details of Colonel Pasley's more recent operations upon the Royal George wreck will be found in the Literary World, vol. ii. pp. 9, 96, 127, 133, and 192.
How refreshing is the following page of graceful prose, by an eminent living
"Ours is a nation of travellers; and no wonder, when the elements-air, water, fire-attend our bidding, to transport us from shore to shore; when the ship rushes into the deep, her track the foam as of some mighty torrent; and in three hours, or less, we stand gazing, and gazed at, among a foreign people. None want an excuse. If rich, they go to enjoy; if poor, to retrench; if sick, to recover; if studious, to learn; if learned, to relax from their studies. But, whatever they may say, whatever they may believe, they go, for the most part, on the same errand; nor will those who reflect think that errand an idle one.
"Almost all men are over anxious. No sooner do they enter the world, than they lose that taste for natural and simple pleasures, so remarkable in early life. Every hour do they ask themselves, what progress they have made in the pursuit of wealth or honour; and on they go, as their fathers went before them, till, weary and sick at heart, they look back, with a sigh of regret, to the golden time of their childhood.
"Now, travel, and foreign travel more particularly, restores to us, in a great degree, what we have lost. When the anchor is heaved, we double down the leaf; and, for a while, at least, all effort is over. The old cares are left clustering round the old objects; and at every step, as we proceed, the slightest circumstance amuses and interests. All is new, and strange. We surrender ourselves, and feel, once again, as children. Like them, we enjoy eagerly; like them, when we fret, we fret only for the moment: and here the resemblance is very remarkable; for if a journey has its pains, as well as its pleasures, (and there is nothing unmixed in the world,) the pains are no sooner over than they are forgotten, while the pleasures live long in the memory.
"Nor is it, surely, without another advantage. If life be short, not so, to many of us, are its days and its hours. When the blood slumbers in the veins, how often do we wish that the earth would turn faster on its axis, that the sun would rise and set before it does; and, to escape from the weight of time, how many follies, how many crimes are committed! Men rush on danger, and even on death. Intrigue, play, foreign and domestic broil, such are their resources; and when these things fail, they destroy themselves.
"Now, in travelling, we multiply events, and innocently. We set out, as it were
on our adventures; and many are those that occur to us, morning, noon, and night. The day we come to a place which we have long heard and read of,—and, in Italy, we do so continually,-it is an era in our lives; and, from that moment, the very name calls up a picture. How delightfully, too, does the knowledge flow in upon us, and how fast! Would he who sat in a corner of his library, poring over his books and maps, learn more, or so much in the time, as he who, with his eyes and his heart open, is receiving impressions all day long from the things themselves? How accurately do they arrange themselves in our memory,-towns, rivers, mountains; and in what living colours do we recal the dresses, manners, and customs of the people! Our sight is the noblest of all our senses.-" It fills the mind with most ideas, converses with its objects at the greatest distance, and continues longest in action without being tired." Our sight is on the alert when we travel; and its exercise is then so delightful, that we forget the profit in the pleasure.
"Like a river, that gathers, that refines as it runs-like a spring, that takes its course through some rich vein of mineral, we improve, and imperceptibly; nor in the head only, but in the heart. Our prejudices leave us, one by one. Seas and mountains are no longer our boundaries: we learn to love, and esteem, and admire, beyond them. Our benevolence extends itself with our knowledge. And must we not return better citizens than we went? For the more we become acquainted with the institutions of other countries, the more highly must we value our own."Samuel Rogers.
THE DEMAUNDES JOYOUS. DEMAUNDE. who bare the best burden that euer was borne. ¶. That bare ye asse wha our lady fled with our lorde into egypte. ¶ Demaunde. where became ye asse that our lady rode upon. T. Adams moder dede ete her. T. Demaunde. who was Adams moder. T. The erthe. T. Demaunde. what space is from ye hyest space of the se to the depest. T. But a stones cast. Demaude. Whā antecryst is come in to this worlde what thynge shall be hardest to hym to knowe. T. a hande barowe, for of that he shall not know which ende shall goo before. ¶ Demaunde. How many calues tayles behoueth to reche frome the erthe to the skye. T. No more but one if it be longe ynough. ¶ Demaunde. How many holy dayes be there in the yere yt neuer fall on the sondayes. ¶. There be eyght, that is to wete ye thre holy dayes after Eester, iii after Whytsondaye, the
holy ascencyon daye, and corpus crysty daye. T. Demaude. whiche ben ye trulyest tolde thynges in the worlde. T. Those be ye steyres of chambres and houses. ¶. Demaunde. Which parte of a sergeaūte loue ye best towarde you. T. His heles. T. Demaude. Which is the best wood and leest brente. T. Vynes. T. Demaunde. Which is the moost profytable beest and that men eteth leest of. T. That is bees. T. Demaunde. Whiche is the brodest water and leest Jeoperdye to passe ouer. T. The dewe. T. Demaunde. What thynge is that neuver was nor neuer shall be. T. Neuer mouse made her nest in a cattes ere. T. Demaunde Why dryue men dogges out of the chyrche. T. Bycause the come not up and offre. T. Demaunde. Why come dogges so often to the churche. T. Bycause whan they se the aulters couered they wene theyr maysters goo thyder to dyner. T. Demaunde. Why dooth a dogge tourne hym thryes aboute or yt he lyeth hym downe. T. Bycause he knoweth not his beddes hede frome the fete. T. Demaunde. Why doo men make an ouen in the towne. T. for bycause they can not make the towne in the ouen. T. Deemaunde. How may a man knowe or perceyue a cowe in a flocke of shepe. ¶. By syghte. T. Demaunde. What almes is worst bestowed that men gyue. T. That is to a blynde man, for as he hathe ony thynge gyuen hym, he wolde with good wyll se hym hanged by the necke that gaue it hym. ¶. Demaunde. Wherfore set they upon chyrche steples more a cocke than a henne. T. yf men sholde sette there a henne she wolde laye egges, and they wolde fall upon mennes hedes. T. Demaunde what thynge is it that hath none ende. T. A bowle. T. Demaunde. What wode is it that neuer flyes reste upon. T. The claper of a lazers dysshe. Demaude. how wolde ye saye two paternosters for your frendes soule, and god neuer made but one paternoster. T. Saye one two tymes. Demaunde. whiche ben the moost profytable sayntes in the chyrche. T. They that stonde in ye glasse wyndoures, for they kepe out the wynde for wastynge of the lyght. Demaude. what people be they yt neuér go a procession. T. They be those that rynge ye belles in ye meane season. Demaude. what is it that freseth neuer. T. That is hote water. Demaude. What thynge is that, yt is moost lykest unto a hors. T. That is a T. Demaunde. What daye in the yere ben the flyes moost aferde. T. That is on palme sunday. whā they se euery body haue an handeful of palme in theyr hande, they wene it is to kyll theym wt. T. Demaunde. what thynge is it the lesse it is the more it
is dredde. A brydge. maūde. what is it that is a wryte and is no man, and he dothe that no man can, and yet it serueth bothe god and mon. T. That is a be. ¶. Demaude. which was fyrst ye henne or ye egge. ¶. The henne wha god made her. ¶. Demaunde. why doth an ox or a cowe lye. Bycause she can not sytte. T. Demaude. what people be they that loue not in no wyse to be prayed for. ¶. They be beggars and poore people whā men say god helpe them whan they aske almes. T. Demaude. How many strawes go to a gose nest. T. None for lacke of fete. T. Demaunde. What was he that slewe the fourth parte of the worlde. T. Cayne whan that he slewe his brother abell in the whiche tyme was but foure persones in the worlde.
¶. Demaunde what thre thynges be they that the worlde is moost mayntened by. ¶. That is to wete by wordes, erbes and stones. Why with wordes man worshyppeth god, and as of erbes that is all maner of corne that man is fedde with, and as stones one is that gryndeth the corne and other encreaseth the worlde. De. what
is ye aege of felde mous. T. a yere and hedge may stand thre mous lyues, and the lyfe of a dogge is the terme of thre hedges standynge and the lyfe of a hors is thre dogges lyues, and the lyfe of a man is thre hors lyues, and the lyfe of a gose is thre menes lyues and ye lyfe of a swanne thre gose lyues, and the lyfe of a swalowe is thre swanne lyues and the lyfe of an egle is thre swalowes lyues, and the lyfe of a serpent is thre egles lyues, and the lyfe of a rauen is thre serpentes lyues, and the lyfe of a harte is thre rauens lyuves, and an oke groweth a hondreth yere, and it standeth in one state fyue hondreth yere, and it fadeth fyue hondreth yere besyde the rote whyche doubleth thre tymes eueryche of the thre aeges aforesayd. ¶. De. A man had thre doughters of thre aeges, which doughters he delyuered to sell certeyne apples, and he toke to the eldest doughter fifty apples, and to the seconde thirty apples, and to the yongest ten apples, and all these thre solde in lyke many for a peny, and brought home in lyke moche money now how many solde eche of them for a peny. ¶. The yongest solde fyrst seuen for a peny, and the other two syster solde after the same pryce, than ye eldest syster had one odde apple lefte, and the seconde syster two, and the yongest thre apples, now these apples lyketh the byer soo well that in contynent he came agayne to the yongest syster and bought of her thre apples after thre pens a pece, than had she ten pens, and the seconde thoughte she wolde kepe the same pryce, and solde her two apples for thre
pens a pece, and than had she ten pens, and ye eldest solde her one apple for thre pens, and than had she ten pens, thus solde they in lyke many apples for a peny broughte home in lyke moche money. T. Demaunde. what man is he that geteth his lyuinge bacwarde. That is rope maker. ¶. Demaunde. what people be the that geteth theyr lyuynge most merylyest. T. Tho be prestes and fullers, for one syngeth, and the other daunceth. ¶. Demaunde. what is he that made all and solde all, and he yt bought all loste all. ¶. A smyth made an alle, and solde it, and the shoemaker ye bought it lost it.
¶ Thus endeth yt Demaundes Joyous
C C C C C and xi
THE EDINBURGH REVIEW.
[THIS is, in the main, a political Number, relieved with a few pages of graceful criticism and masterly literature. Although political, it is not, however, over-full of party spirit: the views are broad and liberal, yet sound and enlightened; and the line of policy advocated is just and fair, and free from misrepresentation. There may be a leaning to one side, but there is no actual going over; whilst the comprehensive minds of the writers are not disfigured and narrowed by party prejudice. It is true that such papers yield but little fruit for a miscellany which is literary and scientific in its tastes and objects; although some of the Reviewer's observations may not be out of place in "a journal of popular information." Upon all questions of public interest, every person of average intellect is expected to possess information up to the time; for which the general reader will do well to look into our leading Reviews. There he will find ably yet popularly written papers upon what are termed the topics of the day; and the reading of them will mature his mind for the best conversation, and intellectual enjoyment of an uncommon order. As a nation of talkers on politics, we know ourselves to be far behind our continental neighbours : in France, for example, every man is a politician-from the main-spring at the Tuileries to the cheffonier on the Pont Neuf: hence the French people have been compared to grains of gunpowder, with
almost the power of self-explosion. We should be sorry to see the tone of our conversation come to this complexion; but, it has, doubtless, occurred to the reader, that, in general society, there is a kind of lull, or apathy, respecting public affairs, which is not characteristic of the utilitarian spirit of the age. The subject is adverted to in the opening of a paper " On the Foreign Policy of the Government," in the Review before us, the writer observing:] It has often been a matter of observation, and of just complaint, that, except in extreme cases, and under peculiar circumstances, the British public manifest a careless indifference on the subject of foreign affairs, quite unexampled in the history of other nations. Unless when revolutions break out, or when wars are impending, the mass of the people of England do not pause to contemplate the movements of other states: contented in their own repose, they disdain to examine the events which are in progress on the Continent, or to form a just and provident estimate of what the future may contain.
[One of the causes of this remissness is, doubtless, as the Reviewer states:]-" the public Schools and Universities of England neglect, altogether, if they do not specifically exclude from their course of study, those branches of learning which lead to a knowledge of the condition of other countries, of their constitutions, and of their interests. A boy at the head of Eton or Harrow, may possibly know something of the strength and organization of the Roman legion, or the Macedonian phalanx; but of the military power and resources of Prussia or Austria, he has learned nothing, except by mere accident; or by private, unaided, and unrequited study. He may describe the voyages of Nearchus, and remain in ignorance of the voyages of Cook and Vancouver. The cultivation of languages, one of the most useful accomplishments, and effectual modes of facilitating and diffusing a knowledge of foreign countries, and no less the means of enlarging the circle of intellectual acquirements, and multiplying and diversifying literary pleasures, is altogether undervalued and unprovided for. We are doubtful whether the facilities of observation which peace affords, have, as yet, been turned to as useful an account as might be expected or desired. The frivolities, the pleasures, the arts, and the antiquities of the Continent, have created more of zeal, and arrested more of attention, than the deeper and more instructive pursuits which ought to engage the minds of statesmen and philosophers. Amusement, rather than instruction, seems to have
been the influencing motive of the majo rity of our tourists; and theatres, salons, and palaces are preferred, as chosen places of study, to those calmer scenes of meditation, where a knowledge of the social system of the people of the Continent, and of their political condition and interests, might have been acquired. This signal mistake leads to the further evil of an increased importation of foreign frivolity; not only without value in itself, but unfitting and indisposing the minds of too many of our younger travellers from strenuous and generous exertion at home.
The fool returns then, perfectly well bred, With nothing but a solo in his head.'"
[The subjects of this Number are - British India; Italian Narrative and Romantic Poetry; Asia Minor; the French Revolution; Recent Shakspearian Literature; Open Questions; New Theory of Colonization; and Foreign Policy of the Government. Our first extract illustrates the
New Resources of India.]
The real value of British India is only now becoming thoroughly known, even to those who know it best. Formerly, even our statesmen were beguiled by vain dreams of large direct tribute. The heaps of ill-gotten bullion which existed, or were imagined to exist, in the treasure-chambers of the few despots with whom caprice took the form of parsimony, were considered as demonstrative proofs of the wealth of a country, which exhibited, in fact, every feature of abject poverty. The rulers of India have become wiser. They have learned-rather let us say, have been taught by that". private reason which always prevents or outstrips public wisdom"-that, poor and miserable as long and aggravated misgovernment, the worst of false religions, and social institutions the most absurd and degrading, have made her, India possesses, in her soil of unmatched fertility-in the abundant population which has hitherto, generally speaking, tilled that soil for a bare sufficiency of the simplest food; in her numerous ports, open at all seasons to vessels from every quarter; in her noble rivers, which afford the easiest communication between these ports and the most remote fields of production; and in the extent of dominion, and variety of climate, which permit the profitable cultivation of many of the most valuable products, both of the tropics and of the temperate zonethe means of realizing to her masters wealth to which no limits can be assigned; and that, too, by a process inseparably connected with the greatest and most enduring benefit to her own children. The agriculture, the commerce of India, are
both, as yet, in their infancy. There is no limit, at least none that will be reached for centuries, to her power of supplying the great staples of cotton, sugar, silk, coffee, tobacco, saltpetre, and indigo. Almost every year adds some important article to her long list of capabilities. Oilseeds, caoutchouc, and wool, are exports of very recent date. The tea of Assam will outstrip them all in value and importance; and will soon, we trust, render us, in a great measure, independent of the monopolists with whom we have hitherto had to deal. There is no doubt that skill and care in the growth and preparation are alone wanting to render the hemp and flax of India equal to that furnished by the north of Europe. Experiments are in progress with a view to the naturalization of the cochineal insect. There is little question that rhubarb could be grown as well in India as in China, from which country that which is called Turkey rhubarb is now brought by Russian caravans. The highly intelligent commercial communities of Calcutta and Bombay, and the planters and merchants settled in the interior of those presidencies, are actively engaged in improving and increasing the old, and in discovering new, articles of export. With the exports must increase the means of purchasing British manufactures. And for many most important purposes, the gigantic power of steam, though, as yet, most inadequately applied, has, in effect, brought our magnificent possessions in India nearer to England, by two-thirds, than in those, so called, good old times when the Company's ships achieved a passage to Madras or Bombay in six calendar
[In the paper on Asia Minor occurs the following interesting note on
The fragments which lately existed of Norwood Causey, in Devonshire, and those still remaining of the Devil's Causey, in Shropshire, bear the most exact resemblance to the more important roads which were carried by the Romans throughout other parts of their empire. The immense sums expended, and the numbers of people engaged in constructing these national works, is not their least striking feature. When we learn from Antoninus, that, in Italy alone, there were 13,500 miles of systematically formed roads, and in Britain not less than 2,650, independently of similar works in the Roman provinces, which, according to the same authority, would bring up the total length to 38,290 miles; when we know that they traversed the most western side of Spain and Barbary,
and the eastern kingdoms of Media and Assyria,-that they were carried entirely through Great Britain, in the north,-Gaul, Hungary, and Scythia, and even through parts of Arabia, Egypt, and Libya, in the south, we may justly feel astonishment that such stupendous undertakings could ever have been completed. Yet numerous evidences of these vast labours still exist, both on the European and Asiatic continent; the latter, indeed, presents them as fresh and unworn as the first day they were laid. We cannot, then, deem it other than a vain task of the critic, to attempt to reconcile numerical discrepancies that are manifest in Xenophon's "Retreat of the Ten Thousand," and in the Antonine and Jerusalem "Itineraries," until at least some of the disputed distances from post to post shall have been actually traversed.
[The article on the French Revolution purports to be a review of Mr. Carlyle's History, in the opening of which is noticed the late justice rendered to the author's talents.]
Few writers of the present time have risen more rapidly into popularity than Mr. Carlyle, after labouring through so long a period of comparative neglect. Whatever judgment critics may be pleased to pass on him, it is certain that his works have attracted, of late, no common share of attention. His little school of sectaries has expanded into a tolerably wide circle of admirers. His eccentricity of style has become the parent of still greater eccentricities in others, with less genius to recommend them; and his mannerism has already infected, to a certain extent, the fugitive literature of the day. Clever young writers delight in affecting his tone of quaint irony, and indulgent superiority; and many a scribe, whose thoughts have about as much originality as the almanac for the year, fancies that he gives them an air of novelty and impressiveness, by clothing them in a barbarous garb, for the fashion of which their prototype must hold himself, to a certain extent, responsible.