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whom the sudden excitement had drawn into the pursuit. A terrible uproar commenced; and the horses, startled at the lights, the shouting, and the tumultuous crowd about them, became, in several instances, perfectly unmanageable, and dashed onwards, shattering the next vehicles with the poles of their own. The confusion thus created favoured his es"If I could reach D'Osyndar's," cape. thought he, "I am safe."
For an instant, as he doubled round a large phaeton, whose driver was sleeping through it all upon the box, he believed the mob had lost sight of him; but at the next turn he came, unexpectedly, upon a small party, who were proceeding in a direction completely opposed to his own. At the same instant the driver of the next coach in the line flogged on his horses, and brought them so close to the phaeton that it was impossible to return. Placing one hand on the footboard, and the other on the iron at the side of the seat, he vaulted upon the box, just as an officer was about to seize him. From thence he passed rapidly to the hind seat, and, taking a good spring, he leaped on to the roof of a lumbering family coach, drawn up side by side. He hurriedly descended, and was now nearly at the outside of the line. At the side of the pavement a young boy was holding two horses. Claude's foot was in the stirrup, and another instant would have placed him beyond danger; when a blazing link, too well aimed, was flung full at his head, covering his face with burning pitch and rosin. The animal he was about to mount reared suddenly at the fright, and he fell back heavily on the pavement, amidst a roar of triumph from his pursuers.
The mass was all over, the prayers were said, And the monks were swarming off to bed, Like a cluster of drowsy bees,
To doze on their pallets some hours away,
And bring them once more on their knees.
Or stripping a branch from the trees.
As he watch'd the small grains
As each strove to pass,
And the cone to amass,
That rose in the wooden-framed wasp-waisted glass. Like the "devil on two sticks," you dance on a string, Which George the Fourth played at, before he was
We have said 'twas a wild and tempestuous night, So he gathered together the embers so bright; (The Porter I mean-understand me aright,And not George the Fourth;) and he traced in their light,
As well as their shadow, a varying sight,
At length, in the corridors cold, was no step heard, But all was as still as the night when Jack Sheppard, With footstep as stealthy as panther or leopard, Escaped from his dread doom,
By quitting the "Red Room;" Which feat, if you read, you will find all your pains worth,
As set forth in Bentley, by Harrison Ainsworth; You'll see how the locks with a bar he did grapple, And broke through the "door going into the chapel;" ('Twas a night in October, although the lines say That "he slipped off his darbies one morning in May;")
And how he exclaimed, all misgiving to smother,— "Every brick I take out brings me nearer my mother!"
If you ask for the last rhyme to whom I'm in debt, I'll confess that it came from the song of—" We met;"
In which some young lady, too given to languish,
In the vicinity of the theatres on the other side of the water, are a number of small and comparatively unknown streets, which appear to have been all built by the same architect, from the same plans, and with the same materials; and then pitched down just as chance allotted. The houses in these minor thoroughfares seldom number more than two stories. The possessors of some, to be sure, have added a garret, with a slate roof and front, to the elevation of their dwelling; but this is the only interruption that occurs to their general dull yellow-brick uniformity. You rarely see the inmates of these tenements. Occasionally a potboy may be perceived loitering along the slip of pavement, with the pewters depending from a strap in his hand; or a watercress vendor will raise a feeble cry under the one window by the side of the door, or the ground-floor;-beyond this they are quite deserted.
It was round the corner of one of these streets that Barnaby now turned. The dull afternoon had changed to a thick foggy evening, through whose gloom the passengers were moving like indistinct forms upon the moist, greasy footpath, barely illumined by the hazy light which the lamps struggled to throw around. The street he entered was one of the loneliest in that quarter. The builder had failed before he had completed it, and, ruined by the failure, had died of a broken heart, leaving the remainder of the ground as a contested legacy to his children. Hence there was no thoroughfare; a
rough horde of boards closed the end of the row, and the broken and uneven ground beyond was marked out for the foundations of other houses, but no more. An almost illegible board intimated that rubbish might be shot there; and a few barrowfuls of oyster-shells, broken crockery, old shoes, and rusty saucepan-covers, were strewed about. The grass peeped up between the paving stones at the end, and the curb had never been placed to the footway; but blocks of stone, evidently intended for that purpose, lay about in disorder, with every appearance of having been long unmoved. A few stunted dirty fowls were scratching about in the gutter, but they ran away as Barnaby apdroached. N. P. Willis.
I was present the next evening at a party given by Lady Claremont, celebrated for her crowded assemblies and indifferent suppers. As I arrived somewhat earlier than the majority of the company, I took my place near the door, and was much amused at the entrées of the different
guests. The formal and coldly polite
manner in which all were received reminded me forcibly that I was no longer in America. After all the boasted welcome of English hospitality, it amounts but to the desire of exhibiting your wealth and appointments to your neighbour. Persiani arrived about half-past eleven, accompanied by Rubini, and one or two stars of minor note. She immediately became the object of general attention, and was nearly stared out of countenance by the company present, many of whom had heard her just before at the Opera. I saw a few ladies criticizing her dress and appointments in a most contemptuous manner. So much for English good breeding!
I had the good fortune to be placed opposite to Mr. Wadham at supper, and heard much private and personal conversation, which I have subjoined, as a fair specimen of the table-talk in the first classes of London society. Reputations are here destroyed with as much sang froid as a trifle-basket, or a barley-sugar temple.
G. P. R. James.
flecting the hue of the unclouded sky above, murmurs, in its gentle course, through the green plains and thick woods that adorn its banks; where the choicest fruit-trees spring up in the centre of the fields of golden maize, and every bush echoes with most melodious feathered minstrelsy, and every heart partakes of the influence of this gay and joyous climate? If so, you will agree that there are few spots which equal in soft beauty and picturesque scenery, the sunny region of merry Touraine.
Two hundred and sixty-eight years ago, (which, by a fair calculation, will bring us back to the year of grace, 1572,) the rich tract of land which stretches eastward from Tours, between the Loire and its tributary the Cher, was even more lovely in its verdant detail than at present. It had not been subdivided for cultivation, but was entirely covered with bosquets of small trees and wild flowers, except where the primitive bridle-road had gradually encroached into a grande route-rough and uneven to be sure, and barely practicable for the lightest carriages, yet still
Dear Reader,-Do you know that part of la belle France where Nature seems to have collected all her stores of loveliness from the other provinces, to adorn the favoured one;-where the luxuriant vineyards climb up the steepest declivities, projecting their long swinging branches from the summit of the rocks; or form their beauteous festoons from tree to tree, as they twine their tendrils round the spray? Do you know that bright land, where the blue and sparkling Loire, re
sufficiently marked to indicate that it conducted to some place of higher importance than the numerous small villages which lay scattered on the face of the surround. ing country. Every crag and eminence on the hills in the distance was marked by its chateau or strong-hold, some of whose ruins are still extant; and on either side it was bordered by a thick belt of foliage that cast a deep shade, where the broad corn-fields now crackle and ripen in the noontide sun.
It was the month of August. The trees were flourishing in all the luxuriance of summer, except that their green leaves had taken a somewhat deeper tint; and the blush of the grape was assuming a more purple dye, when two horsemen slowly wended their way along the green and flowery path that skirted the right bank of the Loire, in its course from Tours their route in silence. Little broke the to Amboise. For a while they continued stillness that reigned around, except the deep hum of the bees from the floating
apiaries that glided slowly along the river, or the mellow and subdued sound of the cattle-bells, as they fell softly on the ear from the distance. ALBERT.
(To be continued.)
UPON the left, or western bank of the Jed, one of the feeders of the Teviot, lies the royal Jedburgh, the county town of Roxburghshire; twelve miles to the north of the English border, forty-six to the.
south of Edinburgh, ten to the west of Kelso, and ten to the east of Hawick. The river was anciently named the Ged; whence certain antiquaries conjecture it to have been the principal location of the Gadeni, who peopled the country between the Teviot and Northumberland, immediately after the dissolution of the Roman power in Britain. In later ages, the district became celebrated in ecclesiastical history, and in the annals of border warfare; and it is to this day strewn with ruins of its monastic greatness and castellated strength. Of these interesting memorials of other times, the remains of the abbey form the most remarkable object in Jedburgh, occupying a part of the town analogous to the head of the West Bow, in Edinburgh. The whole of the precinct is stated to retain so much of the appearance of "unmodernized antiquity, that one expects to see a decent monk or two creeping, like a shadow, along the causeway, saluted from doors by pretty damsels in peaked caps and scarlet stomachers; or to hear the clanking heels, and see the flaunting plumes, of some rude forager, bounding up the wynd as fast as he can, to make his peace with the church for some recent and too daring raid."
The picturesque ruins of the abbey denote it to have been, indeed, a magnificent establishment; and their interest is increased by their situation upon the sloping
bank of the winding river, which washes some relics of the outworks. Such a stream has been beautifully termed, an "emblem of eternity;" and, when seen reflecting upon its glassy surface the ruins of a religious house, must give rise to delightful contemplation. Of the once important pile at Jedburgh, the chapter-house, cloisters, and other appurtenances, have been swept away; and there remains only the church, which, in the form of a cup, extends, from east to west, 230 feet. The whole is a fine architectural study: the two lower stories of the choir consist of massive pillars, and semicircular arches, with zig-zag mouldings, the characteristics of the Anglo-Saxon and Norman styles; whilst the upper windows and some other parts are of later date, being in the pointed style. The north transept is entire, and has a large and beautiful window, and several smaller ones, rich in elaborate tracery. Of the south transept scarcely a vestige exists. At the intersection of the transepts with the nave and choir, rises a square tower, 100 feet in height, supported on four pillars, and surmounted by a projecting battlement, with turrets at the angles. Of the nave, 130 feet in length, the western half is fitted up for the modern parish church. It presents, on each side, three tiers of arches; the lowest of which open into the aisles, are pointed, and supported by clustered columns, with enriched capi
tals. The arches of the second tier, which opened into the galleries, are of semicircular form, beautifully moulded, and have two pointed windows inserted in each. The third tier is of elegant pointed windows. At the western entrance is a Norman door, with a richly moulded arch, supported by slender columns, and recessed to the depth of seven feet and a half. Above it is a semicircular-headed window, flanked by small pointed arches on long slender shafts; and above the whole, in the gable, is a circular, or marigold window, of exquisite design. But the architectural gem of the abbey is the Norman door, which formed the southern entrance to the church from the cloisters. This, for elegance and symmetry, is unrivalled in Scotland; as is the minute finish of its sculptured mouldings springing from slender shafts with richly wreathed capitals; the former exhibiting flowers, men, and various animals, of beautiful and grotesque character.
The date of the foundation of this abbey is much disputed by historians. Some refer it to 1118; others to 1147; and, again, others to the year 1100. The architecture of the choir favours the latter inference; as do also the statements that St. Kennoch was abbot of Jedburgh so early as 1100, and that it was an abbey prior to the time of David I., to whom the foundation of this edifice, together with those of Kelso, Melrose, and Dryburgh, is attributed by some writers. From its contiguity to the border, Jedburgh Abbey frequently suffered during the English wars, particularly in the invasions of Edward I. It was burned and pillaged by the Earl of Surrey, at the storming of the town of Jedburgh, in the year 1523; and it was subsequently reduced to dilapidation by the Earl of Hertford, in 1545, when he ravaged and burnt the districts of Merse and Teviotdale, at the head of an army of 12,000 men; and the walls of the abbey still exhibit the blackening of the flames as they burst through their arches.
Altogether, we know not of a more picturesque scene than the ruins of Jedburgh Abbey, which will be remembered as a favourite scene with painters. The annexed view is from an original sketch by an artistical Correspondent. Akin to the sacred halo of religious antiquity about Jedburgh, is a poetical association of no common interest. On the south side of the ruined choir is a chapel, in the last century used as a grammar-school, where the poet Thomson received the rudiments of his education.
In the town of Jedburgh is the house which was inhabited by Queen Mary, after
her ill-fated visit to Bothwell, at Hermitage Castle. It is a large building, with small windows, and very thick walls, and a turret in the rear; though it has, doubtless, been modernized, its present appearance resembling that of a mansion-house of the reign of Charles II. "It is situated," says Chambers, "in a back street, and with its screen of dull trees in front, has a somewhat lugubrious appearance, as if conscious of its connexion with the most melancholy tale that ever occupied the page of history." A broad stone stair ascends to the second story, and a narrow winding stair leads to the third: the apartment of Queen Mary is a small room, with two windows, and is hung with tapestry in good preservation.
THE POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTION.
Ar this period of the year, the metropolis usually presents a host of attractions for sight-seekers; but in no season within our recollection has London offered so many available resources for scientific and intellectual recreation as at the present moment. The fact is, Science has actually become fashionable as well as popular; and, as was well observed by the President at the last meeting of the British Association: "Science pervades our manufactures, and Science is penetrating to our agriculture; the very amusements, as well as the conveniences of life, have taken a scientific colour." The truth of this remark must be evident to every one who glances at the folio of eight pages, or at the prevailing indications of the public taste; and, to shew how profitable as well as pleasurable is this predilection for the refinements of Science, we propose, from time to time, to direct our readers' attention more especially to such public exhibitions, and other collections, not strictly public, as merit inspection.
Passing, though for the present_only, the British Museum, (which we were happy to find open, under the new regulation, in the Easter-week,) we are inclined to commence our tour of inspection with the Polytechnic Institution, in Regent-street, which is crowded, from noon till the fashionable dinner-hour, by inquisitive visitors. Among the novelties here, are the spinning of glass by steam-power, and the subsequent weaving of it by a loom into court dresses and tapestries; a chromatic firecloud fountain; and Green's aeronautic experiments. The diving-bell, engraved about this time last year, in the Literary World, is put in requisition, or, rather, into the water, at stated hours; and upon the
mimic sea of the tank is shewn Col. Pasley's method of blowing up the Royal George; with Mr. Snow Harris's mode of protecting ships by lightning conductors; of which latter experiments, a parliamentary report has lately appeared. The Polytechnic microscope is stated to be the largest and most powerful in Europe, and to shew pictures magnified 30,000 times.
The electrical experiments are especially interesting, and are brought up to the latest results; among which is copying engraved plates by voltaic action, stated to have been discovered by M. Jacobi; although the merit is claimed, and, we believe, established, by Mr. Thomas Spencer, of Liverpool. This art seems to have engrossed more attention on the Continent than in this country. In Russia, have long been engraved what are called "Russian snuff-boxes," which are formed of a kind of imitation platinum, and have drawings made upon them by an application to their conducting powers. Jacobi, we know, received sterling encouragement from the Emperor of Russia; where science appears to have captivated the imperial taste, so as to make a wit remark, that, fascinated as is Nicholas with electricity, it is some matter of surprise that he is not more considerate to the poles. The Polytechnic experiments have been undertaken by Mr. Bachoffner, who, in the presence of the visitors, has produced, by galvanism, fac-similes of coins, medals, and engraved plates, the latter yielding perfect printed impressions; those from the original and duplicate plates being handed to the spectators for inspection. The process is briefly as follows: the original plate being placed at the bottom of a vessel, is covered with a solution of sulphate of copper, through which a current of voltaic electricity is transmitted, so as to decompose the salt, and precipitate the copper on the original plate in a series of laminæ. On removing this plate of deposited copper, it is found to bear every mark traced by the graver, or etching-tool, of the original; with this difference, that what is bas-relief in one is alto in the other; and the engraved lines in the original become raised lines in the duplicate. The plate thus obtained becomes the matrix, or mould, from which, by a similar process, any number of plates may be taken or stereotyped. An unlimited number of plates may thus be obtained from an original; and the process, it is thought, will supersede the necessity of engraving on steel for the sake of durability. By similar means, copper may be precipitated upon medals, coins, dies, &c., so as to produce copies, equal, in every respect, to those struck by the steamengine.
Perhaps, however, the most popular novelty here is the apparatus for steering, elevating, and depressing balloons, without discharging ballast or gas; the operation of which is the subject of a lecture delivered by Mr. J. Cooper, in the theatre of the Institution. Of this attraction we took some notice in the Literary World about five weeks since. Subsequently, we took occasion to witness the experiments, when the results were not, to our thinking, sufficiently matured to warrant illustration in this Miscellany. We gather, however, from the Times of the 24th ult., that Mr. Green, the aeronaut, has since advanced nearer perfection, and promises to reduce his experiments to practice in the ensuing summer, in an aerial voyage from America to Europe. As the above communication to the Times places the experiments in a more intelligible light than hitherto, we shall detail them.
At a stated hour, a bell is rung in the principal apartment of the Institution, and off the visitors rush to the theatre; where Mr. Cooper having delivered an introductory lecture on the principles and applications of aerostation, Mr. Green then steps forth to illustrate the subject with his "model balloon," which, although a mere toy in size, suffices for the purpose. On our visit, there was some inconvenience, and imperfection in the results, from the drafts of air in the theatre; which defects have, doubtless, been remedied. The principal points stated to be gained are briefly these:-by the use of simple machinery, the aeronaut is enabled to propel, and, to a certain extent, with the assistance of a rudder, in a calm atmosphere, to direct the course of the balloon, as well as to attain an ascending or descending power. By the adoption of a guide-rope, Mr. Green has obtained what he terms "a resisting medium," by which he can preserve a particular altitude. The machinery consists of a spindle, "which is acted upon by works similar to those used in a watch," to the end of which are affixed two vanes, or fans, set in an angle of twentytwo degrees. On the opposite side of the car is fixed another fan, which acts as a rudder. Whatever steerage is gained by this contrivance must, of necessity, be more or less weakened by the violence or moderation of the wind, or the currents of air, into which the balloon passes. So long as the fans act horizontally, and, therefore, propulsively in the same course, by the operation of the guide-rope, the balloon may be controlled, and kept at the desired altitude; whether it be elevated into a stronger current, or sunk into a less forcible action of air, or vice versa. For the purposes of a trip across the sea, it is proposed to