Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

SWISS WATCHMAKERS.

FROM Mr Adam Thomson (25, New Bond Street, London), a gentleman known as the writer of a useful treatise on Time and Time-keepers, we have received a letter, in which we are charged with injustice in lately speaking of the watchmaking trade of Neuchatel.

the watchmaking districts [of Switzerland]. A great deal of the work is done in the mountains; and nearly all the rough work is done there by women, the finer work by men. The wages earned are very low, considering the nature of the work; but the fact is that there is no scarcity of that skill and sobriety, and steadiness of hand and eye, essential to this class of work. There is no monopoly of capacity for it, as there is in London. It is "Speaking of Swiss watchmakers, you say, They are highly-paid work there, and the English watch-workmen untaxed, live in a simple manner, possess a finer taste, possess the means of indulging in drink, not unfrequently and, from their temperateness of living, have a greater without enough of moral principle and intelligence to delicacy of hand than the generality of English work-resist the temptation. It is sometimes the case that men. That the Swiss are untaxed, that their tithes are they get into difficulties before their work is done, pawn voluntary, and that they live in a simple manner, is true, their lathe and tools, and finish and spoil it with inferior but the latter part of your remark is incorrect. The instruments. Drink soon impairs the nerves, and they lose their steadiness of hand. There is, therefore, a conFrench excel us in taste, from having had the advantage stant scarcity of first-rate hands in London. This is not of a national school of design; and the Swiss watch, in the case in Switzerland; the moral and primitive habits size and appearance, is but a copy of that of the French. of the people extend the sobriety essential to the perfecIn England, when utility was preferred to ornament, tion of the art over the whole community. It is in-door there was never sufficient demand to encourage the ma- work, and suits them during the long continuance of weather too inclement in the mountains to permit of nufacture of mere toys. In the reign of George IV., our aristocracy first set the fashion which has now descended open air occupation. It is surprising how few are the to all grades, the greater cheapness of the foreign pro-tools, and how delicate the use of them by the artisan peasantry who carry on this manufacture in Switzerland. duction having increased the demand. Have these futile Carouges and Geneva are the great marts of the trade, ornaments ever advanced science or bettered the condi- and thence work is given out to the surrounding villagers; tion of mankind? What country first gave the mariner they must work hard to earn two francs a-day, and a machine to guide him in his uncertain way? Have not the majority do not average more than 30 sols (15d)." the labours of Graham, Harrison, Arnold, Earnshaw, and Mudge, past members of this now sinking art in England, done more for science and commerce than all the makers of handsome and curious watches in Europe?

The Swiss workman cultivates his own acre of land, and feels himself of some importance in his native country; and it is true that the man who has to struggle with poverty can scarcely attain such a moral dignity; but English watchmakers, as a class, are remarkable for their temperateness of living,' their industry and intellect; their nimble fingers' ply their vocation as industriously as those you describe, and sometimes (so pressing are their necessities) even on that day which a kind Providence set apart as much for bodily relaxation as for mental improvement.

[ocr errors]

With regard to your assertion, that English workmen have less delicacy of hand,' I can only say that, in an extensive connexion with both French and Swiss watchmakers (some of whom were not unwilling to arrogate to themselves a little more than their due), I never met one who even hinted at such a distinction; on the contrary, they admit that their best watches are those which most resemble the English, and that our inventions and improvements are adopted in their best manufacture. Watchmaking is essentially English, deriving its principles from the researches of Newton, Hooke, Harrison, and Graham. Why, then, is this branch of industry leaving us? Not from want of delicacy of hand,' but because the English mechanic, to procure the bare necessaries of life, requires at least 35 per cent. more for his labour than his foreign competitor.

As your article cannot fail in having a prejudicial effect on a suffering but deserving class of men, I trust you will endeavour to correct that part at least wherein superior skill is attributed to foreign workmen. There is already a preference for foreign watches, if not by the considerate, by a large portion of the higher classes of our community. This once-boasted manufacture of England is nearly ruined, and thousands of valuable mechanics (from the nature of their occupation, meek and patient men) quietly meet their fate, being unable to sell their productions at the same price as those who are more fortunately situated. I would, however, ask, If this manufacture, so truly English, is to disappear, will not the same cause destroy others even more valuable to the country? If trade were free, the English workman would seek no favour; his intellect and energy would soon better his condition."

As a

ON THE COMPLETION OF THE THAMES

TUNNEL.

BY CAMILLA TOULMIN.

Joy to thee, brave Brunel !-thy task is done,
Th' immortal wreath of fame is nobly won!
Not thine the warrior's stain'd and tear-dew'd crown,
Thou hast a loftier and more pure renown.
Joy to thee, brave Brunel !-thou hast been tried
By the world's ordeal, and sUCCESS hath dried
The well-springs of Distrust, whose waters deep
Engulf such precious things or coldly steep
The heart of genius, until warped aside,
Or piecemeal rotted, by that ebon tide,
Its might and majesty alike are past:
But thine, Brunel, was of too stern a cast;
Though round thee long had flowed those turbid waves,
Bearing upon their crests the ready glaives
Of ignorance-the bitter taunt and jest
That folly, in its mischievous unrest,
Seizes with vacant laugh, and blindly flings
At dazzling genius on her soaring wings.
And yet, methinks, Distrust's dark icy stream
Did to thy noble heart through long years seem
More fearful than old Father Thames that roll'd
In loud defiance o'er thee; who, controll'd
By the strong spell of science, meekly now
Learns in obedience to thy will to flow!
Oh! how much greater art thou, brave Brunel !
Than Persia's king, who, as old histories tell,
Came with his millions, and but strove in vain
With all his might one rebel wave to chain.
Was there a mind like thine in all his train?
And do not at such thoughts quick mem'ries throng,
Worthy a nobler bard and loftier song,

To tell how dark those wild and barbarous ages,
When warrior's deeds fill'd up the historian's pages?
Now doth at least a twilight dawn; men pay
With fame's bright garlands, not alone who slay,
But them who save and serve. Joy, brave Brunel !
The new "world's wonder" is achieved, and well
By its own self is thy great soul repaid;
And yet wert thou as great, ere yet arrayed
With the world's halo, that SUCCESS has cast
Around thee (for mankind are just at last);
Thou wert as great when this "world's wonder" dwelt
Yet unembodied in the mind that felt
Its power to do and dare. Did it then rise
In grand perfection to thy spirit's eyes,
Conceived one moment and matured the next
(As Wisdom's goddess in the heathen text,
Sprung forth all armed from the Thunderer's brain)?
Or was it link by link, the perfect chain
Of thy so wonderful design was wrought
In the mind's mazes of most tangled thought?
Whiche'er, it matters not, for then, as now,
As great thou wert, the thoughtful feel and know;
When thou didst take a lesson from the worni
The strange secureness of thy work to form,
And show the precept men are slow to learn-
Nought God has made is low enough to spurn;
That loftiest science most acutely feels
How vast the lore great Nature's law reveals.
Thou wert as great-yea, greatest in those years
Of silent grief and watching, when dark fears,
Methinks, must oft have dimm'd or hidden quite
The cheering rays of hope's exceeding light.
The seven years! in which no workman's stroke
Those arches' mute forgetful echoes woke.
But hark! they have a tongue again, and dwell
No more in "cold obstruction"-brave Brunel !
Unquench'd by the dull flood of those long years,
Thy spirit's fire more purely bright appears;
And like a chain electric, runs through all
The busy crew who gathered at thy call;
Teaching them well to understand they shared
The glory of all that which thou hadst dared.
And didst thou life to wood and iron yield.
When thou didst sway thy ever trusty "shield?"*
Joy to thee, great Brunel! thy task is done,
The immortal wreath of fame is nobly won!
Her clarion sounds, and thy name is the note
That echoes catch, and round the world doth float;
And this is guerdon worthy even thee;
Ambition's dream made rich reality.
But is there not a joy more deep-intense,
The triumph of thy work's own recompense?
Doth not this give to nature's beauteous face
Some added charm or once unheeded grace?
Surely more bright each earthly thing appears
Than in the night of those long struggling years.
Joy to thee, brave Brunel !-I do not know
From the dull common crowd that thoughtful brow,
Where MIND hath fixed her starry diadem;
Yet wilt thou not my lowly verse condemn,
Or spurn the homage I but feebly pay:
And so, ere closes quite my humble lay,
One heartfelt prayer-one farewell chord shall swell,
God bless thee ever, great and brave Brunel !
LONDON, June 1842.

THE THAMES TUNNEL. THE tunnel has now completely reached across the river-a distance of 1200 feet; and the projector and engineer had the gratification, a short time since, of being the first who walked from bank to bank, to the shaft on the London side. Those shafts on both sides of the river which are intended for foot passengers are really grand things. They are a succession of staircases going round a vast circular excavation, between seventy and eighty feet deep, and when they shall be all lighted with gas, will be among the most extraordinary parts of the whole structure. Even now, they strongly realise the poetic conception of the descent into the caverns of the Egyptian mysteries; and the view of the interior, nearly a quarter of a mile in extent, lighted with a long succession of melancholy flames, would probably have suggested to a Greek the image of an entrance into Tartarus. The expense of the stone bridge is enormous. Waterloo Bridge cost upwards of a million-London bridge about as much more. Westminster and Blackfriars Bridges, which were built at a cheaper rate and in cheaper times, so constantly demand repairs, that they probably have cost more than either of the modern ones; but the tunnel has the advantage of giving a passage from side to side of the Thames, where, from the breadth of the river, a stone bridge would have probably cost nearer two millions than one, and where no bridge could be thrown across without blocking up the most important part of the Thames, that portion which may be called the great wet dock of London. Yet the expense of the whole has not amounted to more than L.400,000; and even this is to be remembered as an expense greatly increased by the utter novelty of the experiment, by difficulties unforeseen in the commencement, by several irruptions of the river, by the dearness of workmen's wages, arising from the peculiar peril and singular nature of the labour connected with an undertaking carried on at all hours, and wholly by artificial light. All this, too, in constant hazard of an influx of the river, and the various difficulties belonging to working in a mine. The weight of a vast body of water above, acting alike during summer and winter, which at any moment might break in, and against whose incursions it was as necessary to fortify the outside of the tunnel as the interior, added greatly to the difficulties of the undertaking. The original object of the tunnel was to convey cattle, passengers, and general traffic from the rich counties on the Kent side, to that great mercantile region of the metropolis, the London and East and West Indian Docks. How far this will be now effected, is a question which remains to be decided by experience. There can be no doubt that if the traffic be not impeded by the fear of passing under the river, it must be immense. The convenience of escaping the long circuit up to London Bridge, which, from the various obstructions in the most crowded portion of the city, must now occupy many hours, would obviously direct the whole current of the traffic into the tunnel. Hitherto, no expedient has been adopted to shorten the passage of the traffic; and the contrivance by which 1200 clear feet are substituted for at least three miles of the most incumbered thoroughfares cells, one above the other-is thus used :-We will suppose that imaginable, must be adopted as a matter of palpable advantage. Still, there may be difficulties in the way, which practice only can exhibit. But any fear of the structure itself we should regard as altogether visionary. The building of the tunnel seems as solid as a rock. During the whole period from its commencement, we have not heard a single instance of its giving way, vast as the pressure was from above, and trying as were the damps, the ground springs, and the extreme difficulty of building under water. At this moment the roof is obviously as free from damp as the roof of St Pauls! and unless an earthquake should burst it, the whole fabric seems much more likely to last than were it exposed to the diversities of temperature, the heats and frosts, above ground.-Blackwood's Magazine.

To this temperate and well-meant communication, the writer of the article in question can only express his regret that anything which he said, in reference to English watchmakers, should have given offence, or be construed into a means of injury to their interests. class, we are most willing to allow that British watch-streets, and the general difficulty of passing through the makers have done much for practical science, are in many respects worthy of Mr Thomson's encomiums, and that they possess a skill not reached by continental imitators. Still, we may be permitted to ask, why they suffer themselves to be cut out of that large and increasing branch of business, which consists in the manufacture of small watches similar to those of Geneva. These watches may be little better than toys, but if people are set on buying them, surely it would be a wise policy to meet the demand. Mr Thomson declares that it is not from any lack of delicacy of hand, but dearth of provisions, that the English workman cannot compete in this manufacture. We entertain serious doubts on the latter point. A skilled Swiss workman will make 8s. or 9s. per week of wages; but an English artisan of the same class, we believe, will make from 16s. to 20s. This addition of wages is much more than 35 per cent. additional on the cost of food; and our conviction is, that with all our social drawbacks, an English workman, if steady and enjoying regular employment, is placed in a condition, and has chances of advancement, far above the Swiss. Our opinion is, that the prosperity of the Swiss handicraftsmen is less owing to cheapness of food than to an exceedingly simple mode of living. They seem to exist happily on a mere trifle, and make up for local disadvantages by sheer industry, a species of economy which we should say was allied to penury, and the absence of all restrictions on trade and commerce. In a late newspaper we find the following paragraph, purporting to be an extract from the Athenæum. It is possibly an exaggeration, and we only introduce it to show that others have taken a severer view of this question than we have done.

"I do not know a more interesting sight than to visit

[We fear that some of the above calculations respecting the utility of the tunnel are overdrawn. There can be no doubt that by the transit through the tunnel a long circuit will be saved to vehicles and passengers, but will they take advantage of it? They will, certainly, if the passage be free, but, judging from the effects of a toll on Waterloo and Southwark bridges, if the passage be taxed, even in a trifling amount, it will in all likelihood be avoided. We present on next column a glowing eulogy on Brunel, the planner of the tunnel, which has been sent to us by Miss Camilla Toulmin, a lady of rising literary reputation.]

*"This mighty instrument-one in idea and object, but consisting of twelve separate parts or divisions, each containing three the work being finished in its rear, an advance is desired, and that the divisions are in their usual position, the alternate ones a little before the others. These last have now to be moved. The men in their cells pull down the top poling-board, one of those small defences with which the entire front of the shield is covered, and immediately cut away the ground for about six inches. That done, the poling-board is replaced, and the one below removed, excavated to the depth of six inches. Each of the divisions is and so on till the entire space in front of these divisions has been now advanced by the application of two screws, one at its head and one at its foot, which, resting against the finished brickwork, and turned, impel it forward into the vacant space. The other set of divisions then advance. As the miners are at work at one end of the cells, so the bricklayers are no less actively employed at the other forming the brick walls of the top, sides, and bottom, the superincumbent earth of the top being still held up by the shield till the bricklayers have finished. This is but a rude description of an engine almost as remarkable for its elaborate organisation as for its vast strength. Beneath those great iron ribs a kind of mechanical soul really seems to have been created. It has its shoes and its legs, and uses them, too, with good effect. It raises and depresses its head at pleasure; it presents invincible buttresses in its front to whatever danger may there threaten, and, when the danger is past, again opens its breast for the further advances of the indefatigable host."-" London;" article, "The Thames Tunnel."

LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W. S. ORR, Paternoster Row.

Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.

[graphic]

DINBURGA

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE," "CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

NUMBER 553.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1842.

SANATORY CONDITION OF THE LABOUR

ING POPULATION.

MR CHADWICK, secretary to the Poor-Law Commissioners, has just produced a work of a most remarkable nature, under the form of a Report on the Sanatory Condition of the Labouring Population, and on the Means of its Improvement. It is a work which must attract considerable attention, for it gives the first clear light we have had on a subject in which much interest is involved, and which has hitherto been left in a great measure to conjecture. It is an overpowering collection of facts respecting the way in which the labouring classes live, and the remediable evils which press upon them; showing distinctly how much their comfort, their health, and even their morality, are affected by circumstances purely physical and localsuch as drainage, the supply of water, and the arrangem ents of their dwellings. We take the earliest opportunity of presenting a summary of the contents of this extraordinary volume.

Mr Chadwick sets out with some general facts and observations with regard to the amount of mortality in England and Wales from various classes of diseases, and, showing that the deaths from endemic, epidemic, and contagious ailments (the great proportion of which are proved to be preventible), are above 56,000 per annum, or about a sixth part of the whole, startles us with the remark, that "the effect is as if the whole county of Westmoreland, or the whole county of Huntingdon, were entirely depopulated annually, and were only occupied again by the growth of a new and feeble population, living under the fears of a similar visitation." Typhus alone, which has a preference for victims in the vigour of life, slaughters more annually than fell on the allies' side at the battle of Waterloo. The evidence, he adds, almost wholly "points to one particular, namely, atmospheric impurity, occasioned by means within the control of legislation, as the main cause of the ravages of epidemic, endemic, and contagious diseases." We may remark, that this is an opinion widely entertained, there being only one prevalent notion at all differing from it, and that is, the view which attributes these diseases mainly to deficient food. The fact we believe to be, that deficient food is only a predisposing cause. In a pure atmosphere, it is comparatively inoperative for such ends; but where to deficient food is added impure air, extensive disease is inevitable.

The report is divided into sections referring to different departments of the subject. The first, on the general condition of the residences of the labouring classes where disease is most prevalent, shows that both in country and town a vast proportion of the labouring class live in very wretched dwellings, where health is not to be expected. We have already heard a good deal of the huddled, damp, and dirty dwellings of this class in large cities; but we have scarcely been prepared to learn that rural villages, which look pleasing from without, and even the detached cottages of the agricultural labourers, are in many instances as destitute of the elements of health, their precincts being full of stagnating filth, while, within, there are damp floors, from which feculent exhalations are constantly rising, and far too narrow accommodations for sleeping. We hear, for instance, of a cottage well situated, and clean externally, but where the sleeping room for six persons measures six feet by ten-consequence, fire cases of typhus fever. Colerne, on the Great Western Road, is a pretty-looking village, delightfully situated on a hill; but, entered, is found to be undrained, ruinous, and filthy, and occupied by a squalid population-consequence, scarlet and typhus fever never

absent from it. It is surprising that even such a town as Windsor is full of nuisances, tending to have the most fatal effects upon health-one open drain in particular, on the banks of which the demon of typhus may be said to sit. Throughout the whole county of Northumberland, the residences of the agricultural labourers are mere hovels, like those which used to abound in the Scottish Highlands.

In his classification, Mr Chadwick next proceeds to detail the "public arrangements external to the residences by which the sanatory condition of the labouring population is affected." He shows how general in towns is the deficiency of drains, either for the moisture from the firmament, or the refuse of the population; and establishes by ample evidence the immediate connexion of that condition with the unhealthiness of the inhabitants. For example, says Dr Howard of Manchester, "of the 182 patients admitted into the temporary fever hospital in Balloon Street, 135 at least came from unpaved or otherwise filthy streets." Most of the streets of Leeds are "paved by owners, or partly paved, or are totally unpaved, with the surfaces broken in every direction, and ashes and filth of every description accumulated upon them." In the report on this town, it is remarked, that the additions made of late years to the manufacturing towns of England have been "made without regard to either the personal comfort of the inhabitants or the necessities which congregation requires. To build the greatest number of cottages on the smallest allowable space, seems to have been the original view of the speculators, and the having the houses up and tenanted the utmost of their desires." It would appear, that with respect to removal of refuse, the metropolis is not much less defective than the provincial towns or villages. Of this one grand cause seems to be, that the value of the refuse is not sufficient to pay the expense of cartage. Mr Chadwick adduces a variety of evidence to show the superiority of a self-acting mode of cleansing over every other. He would have this done by flooding everything into proper sewers, and sending it out by iron pipes into the country for irrigation, using steam power to raise the stream where necessary. Thus natural river channels would be kept pure, and an immense saving effected. The refuse of London would twice pay the expense of water for the inhabitants! Indeed, the economy of this plan of cleansing is precisely the same as that of bringing water in pipes, instead of sending carts for it. And how great the economy is in the latter instance, is well seen in a calculation by our reporter, that, when a labourer pays 5s. per annum for a pipe of water in his house, he gets 135 pailfuls for a penny farthing. How many penny farthings must he lose in time and labour, which are the same as money, if he or his wife have to carry those 135 pailfuls even so much as two hundred yards! An increase of the supply of water in towns, and its more general introduction into the houses of the labouring classes, are objects which he holds in view as tending much to the improvement of public health.

The third section of the report, "Circumstances, chiefly in the internal economy and bad ventilation of places of work, workmen's lodging-houses, dwellings, and domestic habits affecting the health of the labouring classes," is the most elaborate and perhaps the most important of the whole. It occupies above fifty pages. It is difficult in our small space to give a tolerable view of what is itself a highly condensed summary. Mr Chadwick begins with some evidence as to the condition of tailors' workshops in London, and their effects in deteriorating the health and morals of the men. In a small chamber, heated

PRICE 1d.

to a high temperature, and kept very close, a great number of these men squat upon the floor, as close as they can well sit. The want of fresh air produces a great depression of the energies, and gin is drank to support them. It takes twelve hours to do the work of ten; improvident habits are formed; health gives way; and a London journeyman tailor is "done" at fifty. As a contrast to this, the country tailors are generally healthy men, noted for their skill and agility in village sports. The whole of this evil is to be traced to the want of proper ventilation in workshops, a mere fault of arrangement, which could be remedied, for one containing fifty workmen, at the expense of perhaps a day's wages of the whole. We can add, from our own knowledge, that this improvement was lately effected, at a mere trifle of expense, in the workshop of Messrs Lockhart, clothiers, Glasgow, by the conducting of a metal tube from the ceiling of the room to the furnace used for heating the irons. Already, a marked change in comfort is experienced, and we cannot doubt that an equally great improvement in the health of the men will soon be ascertained. Mr Chadwick, keeping in view the loss of one or two hours' work to each man from bad ventilation in the London workshops, and considering what this would come to in twenty years, says "The subscriptions to the benevolent institution for, the relief of the aged and infirm tailors, by individual masters in the metropolis, appear to be large and liberal, and amount to upwards of L.11,000; yet it is to be observed, that if they or the men had been aware of the effects of vitiated atmospheres on the constitution and general strength, and of the means of ventilation, the practicable gain of money from the gain of labour by that sanatory measure could not have been less in one large shop, employing 200 men, than L.100,000. Independently of subscriptions of the whole trade, it would, during their working period of life, have been sufficient, with the enjoyment of greater health and comfort by every workman during the time of work, to have purchased him an annuity of L.1 per week for comfortable and respectable self-support during a period of superannuation, commencing soon after fifty years of age."

The same consequences from deficient ventilation in working-rooms affect the milliners of the metropolis. "It is not doubted by medical witnesses, that in this class of cases, as in the case of tailors, one-third at least of the healthful duration of adult life will be found to have been destroyed by the ignorance of the want of ventilation."

The miners of Durham and Northumberland, when working at a considerable distance from home, have to sleep in temporary lodging-rooms, which are dreadfully over-crowded, and where the air is consequently vitiated to a great extent. They are thought to be more damaged by this than by their work itself. Of 212 deaths of miners in the unions of Cumberland and Westmoreland in 1839, 52 were from consumption.

There is great reason to suppose that, in what are considered as deleterious occupations, much of the bad effects ascribed to the occupation is in reality a consequence of domestic circumstances. "Between different sets of workmen who work at the same descriptions of work during the same hours, and in the same town, but in well or in ill-ventilated factories, a marked difference in the personal condition and general health of the workpeople has been perceived. Great differences are perceptible in the general personal condition of persons working during the same hours in cotton-mills in town and in cotton-mills in rural districts, where they have not only a purer atmosphere,

but commonly larger and more commodious places of abode. The factory superintendants generally state that the workers in the country mills are distinguishable at sight by their more healthy appearance, and by the increased proportions amongst them who have florid complexions. Very lately, the attention of the Austrian government was called to the labour of the persons working in the cotton-factories in the neighbourhood of Vienna. One half, perhaps, of the mills are of the ordinary construction of the cotton-mills in England of from thirty to forty years' date, and they work on the average as much as fifteen hours per diem. But it appears that the houses in which the workers live belong to the capitalists who own the mills, many of whom have displayed a desire to insure, as far as the state of the private residences can insure, the comfort of those whom they employ, and they have accordingly built for them a superior description of tenements. It is stated that the result of the inquiry conducted by the government physicians was, that the average health enjoyed by the workers in those mills is greater than that of any other class of workpeople in the neighbourhood where the mills are situated, and where the general condition of the population is deemed good; the difference in the general health of the two classes (indicated by the proportion of deaths-of 1 in 27 of the general population, and 1 in 31 of the manufacturing population) was ascribed to the difference of the residences."

There is a great accumulation of evidence as to the demoralising effects of the promiscuous use of sleeping apartments amongst the labouring population. Not only are the whole members of one family, young and old, male and female, crowded into one small room, perhaps into one bed, but strangers are often brought into this unseemly association, to the utter destruction of all delicacy, and the absolute corruption of many individuals. This over-crowding is not always a consequence of poverty. Workmen with ample wages are often found submitting to it, to save the merest trifle of rent, which they could well afford. In the course of the inquiry, the effects of an inferior construction of dwelling-house, independent of any over-crowding, were often traced. "A gentleman who has observed closely the condition of the workpeople in the south of Cheshire and the north of Lancashire-men of similar race and education, working at the same description of work, namely, as cottonspinners, mill hands, and earning nearly the same amount of wages-states that the workmen of the north of Lancashire are obviously inferior to those in the south of Cheshire in health and habits of personal cleanliness and general condition. The difference is traced mainly to the circumstance, that the labourers in the north of Lancashire inhabit stone houses of a description that absorb moisture, the dampness of which affects the health, and causes personal uncleanliness, induced by the difficulty of keeping a clean house." Thus physical seems inseparable from moral deterioration. "The close pent-up air of their abodes," says Mr Chadwick, "has undoubtedly a depressing effect on the nervous energies, and this, again, with the uneducated, and, indeed, with many of the educated workpeople, has an effect on the moral habits by acting as a strong and often irresistible provocative to the use of fermented liquors and ardent spirits. Much may be due to the incitement of association of greater numbers of people; but it is a common fact, that the same workpeople indulge more in drink when living in the close courts and lanes of the town than when living in the country, and that the residence in the different places is attended with a difference of effects similar to those described in respect to the tailors working in crowded rooms in towns and the tailors working separately or in the country. The workpeople who have fallen into habits of drinking strenuously allege the impossibility of avoiding the practice in such places; they do, however, drink in greater quantities in such places, and give increased effect to the noxious miasma by which they are surrounded." Everything is against a people so circumstanced; even the butcher-meat which they buy is sooner tainted than elsewhere, helping to make them live, as it were, from hand to mouth.

disposing cause of disease. Dr Baker, referring to | ls. 6d. to s. a-week. The latter class, on the conDerby, places amongst the causes of sickness "the trary, are most anxious to give their children a good want of domestic comforts, a want which the wages education; they study to obtain it for them by every they earn would, in many instances, enable them to means in their power, and they pay for it most cheerremove, if their means were not, as too often happens, fully. The former class, again, grasp at every benefit expended viciously or improvidently. It is with re- which the charitable institutions of the place have gret that I speak unfavourably of the poor, whilst my provided for the poor. When, for example, medical whole aim, in this communication, has been to awaken attendance is given them gratuitously, they not unfrea sympathy towards those sufferings of which I have quently despise and refuse it, unless medicines are been so often a witness. But several years' experience given them gratuitously also; whereas the latter deof the habits of the poor, derived from my situation scription of families are not only ready and willing as an hospital physician, and backed by the additional to pay for medicines when prescribed to them, but evidence I have obtained by acting for three years as they generally manifest much gratitude, and very a guardian of the poor in this large town, has, I am often present their medical attendant with a small sorry to say, served but to confirm me in the opinion fee. I have just now expressed." The committee of medical men at Birmingham give it as their deliberate opinion, that drunkenness prevails most there amongst the workmen earning the highest wages. On this subject we are supplied with a rich illustration from the sanatory report of Mr Mott, in the following form :

CONTRAST IN THE ECONOMY OF FAMILIES. Chorlton-upon-Medlock; a man, Chorlton Union, containing one 1. Cellar in Wellington Court, 1. In a dwelling-house in his wife, and seven children; sitting room and two bed-rooms; income per week, L.1, 11s.; a man, his wife, and three chilrent 1s. 6d. per week; three dren; rent 2s. 6d. per week; beds for seven, in a dark un- income per week, 12s. 6d., being ventilated back room, bed-co- an average of 2s. 6d. per week vering of the meanest and scan- for each person. Here, with a tiest kind-the man and wife sickly man, the house presented occupying the front room as a sleeping-room for themselves, in which the whole family take their food and spend their lei. sure time; here the family in a filthy destitute state, with an

income averaging 3s. 54d. each per week, four being children under 11 years of age.

2. Cellar in York Street, Chorlton-upon-Medlock; a man - a hand-loom weaver-his wife and family (one daughter married, with her husband, forms part of the family), comprising altogether seven persons; income L.2, 7s., or 6s. 84d. per head; rent 2s. Here, with the largest amount of income, the family occupy two filthy damp unwholesome cellars, one of which is a back place without pavement or flooring of any kind, occupied by the loom of the family, and used as a sleeping-room for the married couple and single daughter.

3. J. S., of Carr Bank (labou

rer), wages 12s. per week; a wife, and one child aged 15; he is a drunken disorderly fellow, and very much in debt.

4. W. H. of Oakamoore, (wiredrawer), wages L.1 per week; he has a wife and five children; he is in debt, and his family is shamefully neglected.

5. G. L., of Kingsley (boatman), wages 18s. per week,

with a wife and seven children; his family are in a miserable condition.

6. J. B., of Cheadle (collier), wages 18s. per week; wife and three children; his house is in

a filthy state, and the furniture

not worth 10s.

7. W. W., of Kingsley (boatman), wages 18s. per week; wife and three children; he is a drunken, disorderly fellow, and his family entirely destitute.

8. R. B., of Cheadle (labou

rer), wages 12s. per week; wife circumstances; not a bed to lie

an appearance of comfort in every part, as also the bedding was in good order.

[blocks in formation]

and five children in miserable a-week; he has a wife and six

on.

9. T. B., of Tean (labourer), wages 14s. per week; his wife earns 7s. per week; five children; he is very much in debt; home neglected.

10. T. J., of Tean (blacksmith), wages 18s. per week; his wife earns 78. per week; three children; he is very much

in debt, and his family grossly neglected.

children, whom he supports comfortably.

9. William Box, of Tean (tape

weaver), wages 18s. or 20s. per week; supports his wife in bad health, and five children.

10. Ralph Faulkner, of Tean (tape-weaver), wages 18s. or 20s. per week; supports a wife and five children, three of whom are

deaf and dumb.

Where local and physical circumstances exert so powerful an influence in depraving the taste and moral sense, the common efforts of benevolence do no good, but often rather harm, by affording additional means of intemperance. A journeyman tailor at The above report, of course, refers to ordinary times. Bath had never possessed any furniture in his house. It shows most luminously how much the labouringMany persons, learning this part of his case only, sent classes have the comfort of their lives in their own him household articles, which were immediately con- hands. Mr Wood of Dundee reports-" There are verted into liquor. This man had L.3 a-week of many families among the working-classes who are in wages! Sir Charles Shaw, superintendant of police the receipt of from 15s. to 22s. per week, who are inat Manchester, found in a lodging-house there an sufficiently clothed, and irregularly and poorly fed, apartment full of drunken wretches sleeping on the and whose houses, as well as their persons, appear bare floor, with bricks for pillows, and another set filthy, disorderly, and uncomfortable. There are other who had straw the former simply preferred paying families among them, containing the same number of for gin to paying for straw. The Rev. Whitwell persons, whose incomes average from 10s. to 14s. aElwin "found a journeyman painter whose bed was week, who are neatly, cleanly, and sufficiently clothed, without blankets, whose room was without furniture, regularly and suitably fed, and whose houses appear who was destitute of even the ordinary utensils of orderly and comfortable. The former class care little civilised life, whose floor was covered with worse filth for the physical comfort, and far less for the intellecthan that of the streets. I found this man at dinner tual, moral, and religious education of their children; with a roast loin of pork stuffed with onions, a York- in many cases, indeed, they neglect the education of shire pudding, a large jug of ale, cheese, and a salad. their offspring when it is offered to them gratuitously; I will undertake to say that half the gentlemen of and in place of sending them to school, where they Bath did not sit down on that Sunday to so good a might be fitted for the duties and disappointments of dinner." life, they send them, at a very early age, to some emDomestic mismanagement is made out to be a pre-ployment where they will earn the poor pittance of

Now, it is among the former class of families where, generally, there appears to me to be a deficiency of wholesome food and of warm clothing, where contagious febrile diseases are most commonly found, and from whence they are most extensively propagated. Fever is no doubt found among the latter more frugal and therefore better conditioned families, but seldom of that malignant contagious character which it invariably assumes among the other class of families. Here, then, we have on the one hand filth, destitution, and disease, associated with good wages; and on the other, cleanliness, comfort, and comparative good health, in connexion with wages which are much lower. The difference in the amount of their incomes does not account for the difference in the amount of comfort which is found existing among the workingclasses. The statements just made make known the fact, that above a certain amount, say 12s. or 14s. of weekly income, wages alone, without intelligence and good habits, contribute nothing towards the comfort, health, and independence of the working population.” We may add, that we have heard precisely the same account of his workmen given by a Dundee manufacturer. The satire of the knife-grinder is but too extensively applicable.

We must here, for the present, take leave of Mr Chadwick. We shall take up his instructive volume again in a succeeding number.

PEDESTRIAN TOUR IN SWITZERLAND. MEYRINGEN-CATARACT OF HANDECK-HOSPICE OF THE GRIMSEL.

AUGUST 23.-The inn at Meyringen, where we slept, was alive at five o'clock, and several parties were at breakfast preparatory to their several tours. We took a survey of the vale of Hasli, which hitherto we had only seen in the gloom of evening. It is wide and flat, and fruitful, with rich green fields and venerable wood, through which peep many cottage roofs, and a slender church spire. If one could keep his eye resting solely on the surface of the plain, he might imagine himself in an English village; but the frame of rock and mountain in which the landscape is imbedded, soon dissolves the vision. The spot is remarkable even in Switzerland, from the multitude of huge cataracts which are visible from it. High above all, and holding communion, as it were, with the clouds, is the white mass of the mighty Reichenbach; and every here and there some rocky crevice wells forth a cascade that would make the fortune of a British watering-place. As there appears no visible outlet from the valley, one is apt to feel as if, like a tub at a fountain, it must soon become full of water; nor has such a calamity been, in a modified form, entirely unprecedented. As the torrents carry with them quantities of mud and stone, their narrow orifices sometimes become choked; a lake is thus formed behind the barrier, which, when increased to a certain extent, bursts through it, and sends down a torrent of water and mud on poor Meyringen.

Revolving in our minds the philosophy of the employment of guides, we came to the conclusion, that it was an infringement on the liberty of the subject not to be tolerated except in very urgent circumstances. The paths we had hitherto traversed, we believed we would have been able to follow unaided with great ease; indeed, one of our motives for employing a guide was the protection it might afford us from the importunities of others. We were now about to tread a wilder path, where the real services of a pilot might be more necessary, but, on the other hand, it was one in which we would be less liable to meet with importunity; so we made up our minds to trust to our own resources. Like skilful generals, we thought it expedient to let the enemy see that these resources were not to be despised, and accordingly we resolved to start like men who knew what they were about, and where they were going. Our destination being the pass of the Grimsel, we took its bearing (which we found to be south-east by south) on Keller's map, and adjusted it to our position with a pocket compass. We were not quite sure that we were correct, but we knew that everything depended on the air of decision we assumed; and so fortified, we marched forth. We had not walked many paces in our pride of skill, when what appeared the whole establishment of the inn, accompanied by our ex-guide, came clattering after us to tell us we had gone the wrong way. This was humiliating, but it did not render absolutely necessary a forfeiture of liberty; we were still able to shake off our tormentor, and with a few directions to assist us, we took the right way.

At the upper end of the vale, we came to a minor

tible cascade, for it descends in a fine smooth sheet of
water, casting forth a prodigious quantity of foam;
but it is lost in the close vicinity of Handeck. The
singular effect produced by the latter must be owing
to the vast quantity of the water in proportion to the
breadth of the stream. Though I had very insufficient
data for coming to any conclusion on the subject, I
could not help being of opinion, that the Aar at this
spot conveys as large a body of water as the Tay at
Perth.
There is a small inn at Handeck, where we took
some refreshment. There was an item in the charge
which we could not exactly comprehend; and while
the landlord with his Swiss German was endeavour-
ing to make it very plain to us, a young foreigner who
was, like ourselves, a guest, volunteered an explana-
tion in these words-"That is the water, for you have
seen fall." We could not but thank the gentleman
for his kindness: to show how much we appreciated
it, we acknowledged ourselves satisfied; and it was
not until we had gone on our way meditating, that it
occurred to us how our host had made the cataract of
Handeck an item in his bill.

eminence called the Kirchet, which we mounted by a
zig-zag path leading through pleasant forests of pine,
rich in underwood and wild flowers. We then de-
scended on the river Aar, which cuts its way right
through the centre of this hill. Of all the wild gla-
cier torrents we had yet seen, this was the most re-
lentless and ruffian-like. Attempts had been made
to keep its torrent within bounds by moles or broad
pier-like walls, made of gigantic blocks of granite. It
was wonderful how human industry could rear such
works in such a spot. A great city might have been
proud of running such bulwarks out to sea, for the
protection of her costly fleets. But the Aar had
paid no respect to this wonder of enterprise. In
many places its iron clasps were wrenched as if they
had been straw, and the great blocks of granite were
scattered like gravel along the margin of the perpetu-
ally foaming and roaring river. We were now in the
vale of upper Hasli, smaller, more sterile, and more
rocky than its namesake below, and singularly se-
cluded in its aspect. After commencing the ascent
of the pass, we lost sight of almost all vestiges of in-
habitancy, though we did not immediately escape from
the persecution of guides offering their services; and The character of the scenery changed soon after we
so deep an impression had their importunity made had left the fall. The trees, in place of the lofty pines
upon our minds, that when we had got within the that had been waving over our heads, were flat,
wild precincts of the gorge, and were amusing ourselves gnarled, and stunted, with trunks covered over with
with shouting aloud to the winds and waters, we sud- lichens of every colour. We encountered, too, sundry
denly stopped with the reflection, that it was a dan- patches of snow of considerable size, and one of them
gerous experiment, that we were in a sort of enemy's made a mound across the bottom of the defile, the
country, where we knew not what ambuscade might Aar plunging into it, and disappearing for a time be-
start up, and that we must avoid exposing ourselves neath it as if making an attempt to assuage, in the
to the risk of calling forth some persecutor in the wil- midst of this cooling mass, the fierceness of its career.
The perilousness of the path attracted our attention
We had repeatedly to cross the Aar by aerial-look-at this point. It passed over a shelf of granite at an
ing stone bridges, the parapets of which curved to the acute angle, worn smooth by avalanches. Notches
semicircle of the arch. This form of bridge is gene- were cut here and there for the feet, but they offered
rally to be found spanning the torrents of mountainous apparently a slender means of advancement.
regions, and though it be not much respected by the
engineers who carry turnpikes over the sedgy rivers of
England, it is adapted with great skill to its own loca-
lity. No parapet-wall could for a moment hold out
against the Aar, when swollen by the melted snows,
and those arches have the best chance which present
the smallest surface to the current. In the previous
parts of our tour, our views of precipices had been
somewhat distant, but now we were among them, and
had an opportunity of experiencing the terrible subli-
mity of one of the higher alpine passes. The path
was narrow and broken, fit only, as it seemed to us,
for pedestrians; but we were told that the sure-footed
mule could be trusted on it. I should not have felt
comfortable, however, on the back of any mule or
other animal, however high its character, on such a
road. It was in some places the narrowest possible
groove in the face of the rock, which sunk below us
like a straight wall to the edge of the hungry torrent,
and curved over our heads far into the heavens. Í
reflected here on the grave statement of Cornelius
Nepos, that Hannibal levelled a path for himself
across the Alps, by shattering the heated rocks with
cold vinegar; and it occurred to me, that if he had
been able to accomplish the levelling of such a pass
as this, the contract for the vinegar must have been a
prodigious job to some great house in Carthage.

derness.

Our expectation was raised to a high pitch of excitement as we neared the fall of Handeck, which is reckoned the second in point of grandeur in Europe, Terni being the first. As one approaches a waterfall, the ear generally listens greedily for the first indication of its hollow rumbling; but it seemed useless to listen on this occasion, for the river, bellowing at our feet, filled the ear nearly full with its own roaring; yet we did at last hear a sound that rose even over this, and through the foliage of the trees we caught a glimpse of the white foam of the cataract. To obtain a view from below, we required to scramble along a narrow ledge of rock, rendered slimy by the spray from the fall. The level from which it afforded us a view might be about half way up the fall, which it enabled us to see in full perfection. From this spot, however, we had no view of the abyss into which it precipitates itself not the least interesting feature of a cataract; and so we delayed not to mount to a higher level. The time and trouble of the ascent showed us how considerable was the height of the fall, but we had no means of precisely estimating it. At the top we found a wooden bridge, from which we could look straight into the gulf. The effect from this point was different from what I had seen in any other waterfall. The water, instead of descending in a compact mass, and throwing up a cloud of foam, seemed, as it were, broken into pieces, which, dispersed through the dark gaping pit, absorbed the sight before it could penetrate to the bottom. It was thus that, gazing downwards, we could not see whence the stream came, nor whither it went, but merely that the great pit we stood above was a caldron, where a chaos of waters was tossed about and tortured by some unseen agency. A waterfall has its pulsations, and here they were visible in such a partial separation of the particles as enabled the eye to see for a moment farther into the darkness of the gulf. The sun was shining bright among the waters; and as we shifted our position from time to time, its effects were visible in diversified groups of little rainbows, which gambolled about in all their finery on the surface of the broken waters. It is a strange feature in the Handeck, that a smaller cataract falls into it at right angles, just where it shoots from the brow of the rock. This is of itself no contemp- |

As we ascended still farther, the gnarled pines dwin-
dled away at last, and we had nothing about us but
granite rock, turf, and snow. In this class of scenery we
found the hospice of the Grimsel, a large strong built
granite house, with a multitude of very small windows.
It stood on the margin of a black lake, and it had
nothing to show in the way of pleasure-ground besides
the said lake, abundance of snow, and a like quantity
of granite; it was undoubtedly the most dreary spot
I had ever seen. When we presented ourselves at
the door, the landlord, a sturdy massive man, who
looked as if he had been hewn out of the granite
rocks he was surrounded by, shook our hands warmly
with his large horny fist, and in German pronounced a
sort of solemn benediction, and a congratulation on our
having escaped the dangers of the pass. The house,
though to English travellers it is purely an inn, is
nominally a religious house of refuge for wayfarers,
and the landlord wished to support its reputation.
We arrived about four o'clock, and it was with some
difficulty that we prevailed on ourselves to pass the
afternoon at the hospice, instead of crossing the pass,
and taking our chance on the other side. After hav-
ing secured our means of accommodation, we wandered
about, each individually taking his chance of what na-
ture might throw in his path in this wild spot. I was
anxious to obtain the best possible view, and therefore
I climbed the ascent in front of the hospice for some
hundred feet. I contemplated reaching the summit,
but found that would be impossible before nightfall.
I therefore sat down under the shadow of a large
stone, lit my pipe, and, as its fumes gradually ascended,
contemplated the scene around me. The sun was set-
ting from the valleys, but every peak of rock was still
bathed in his warm evening rays, and here and there
the snow that either clung to the sides of the higher
peaks, or lay in valleys not too deep to be visited
by the departing sun, displayed a rich pink colour,
which I had never before seen equalled in transpa-
rency and brilliancy. Far beneath me stood the hos-
pice, on the brink of its dark lake, which lay as black
as a drop of ink. The sun had left the hospice and its
lake, but the atmosphere around them was singularly
clear; and if it had not been for the material diminu-
tion of every object, I could not have believed that I
had risen some eight hundred feet above the spot.
While thus looking forth in meditative mood, a priest
marched out from the hospice, accompanied by a num-
ber of boys dressed in white blouses. They walked
down-a set of pigmies, as they seemed to me-to the
edge of the dark pool, and having there amused them-
selves for a short time, marched back again. I ex-

pected to meet this priest and his flock as constituent members of the establishment of the hospice on my return, but I saw nought of them, and it was a mystery to me where they could be hidden.

A table d'hôte is held at the hospice every evening at 7 o'clock, constituting a fashionable dinner for the English, and a supper for the continentals. Between thirty and forty of us sat down together; men of many nations and languages, and evidently all pedestrians-for there was a certain air of rough handling about all of us, and there did not appear in the neighbourhood of the hospice a single mule, the only means by which any one could have been conveyed to the spot. Though the guide-books speak slightingly of the fare afforded to the traveller in this lofty place of entertainment, I am bound to say that the meal laid before us was both abundant and choice. The peculiar structure of the place was strikingly exhibited as we retired to our sleeping apartments; it is that of an hospital, each bed-room being a ward, separated only by a deal board from the next one. We heard that a servant remains in the house all winter, to attend to those who cross the pass at that season. What a life for a human being to lead! The Bell Rock Lighthouse would be a gay residence in comparison, being excited by an occasional shipwreck. The servant has for companions on his dreary watch a couple of the majestic dogs known as the St Bernard's breed. It is impossible to look on these animals without feeling something approaching to veneration both for their physical and moral qualities. They are not, however, it must be admitted, very engaging animals; they do not positively repel attention, but they receive it with a calm and dignified abstraction, as if they chose to convey to the mind of the stranger an impression, that their duties are too serious to admit of the interchange of trifling

courtesies.

THE FLOWER-GIRL OF MADRID.
A LATE INCIDENT.

THE unhappy state of Spain-that land where ardent
feeling makes every disagreement, personal or poli-
tical, assume an aggravated and embittered form-
drove many of the inhabitants, within these few past
years, to the neighbouring territory of France. In
Bordeaux alone, as many as twenty thousand Spa-
niards fixed their residence during the struggles be-
twixt the Carlists and Christinos. The natives and
the strangers managed, on the whole, to do very well
together; and many permanent connexions were
formed in consequence of their being associated in one
place, by the accidents of fortune and war.

In 1834, the Countess de Villa Fuente came to live in Bordeaux. It was known that she came from Madrid; but few or none seemed to be acquainted with her private history, or with the causes of her exile. No one accompanied her, with the exception of an infant boy, on whom she lavished the most tender cares, and in reference to whom the character of a widow was very generally assigned to her, despite of her youth and unimpaired beauty. She appeared rich, and kept up a handsome establishment, so that the best society of Bordeaux was open to her at all times. But though not shunning company altoge ther, she lived on the whole in a retired manner, and the most uncharitable could attach no impropriety to her name, although she was a single and unprotected woman, and though more than one suitor fluttered around her and sought her good graces.

Such was the state of matters during the first three years of her stay in Bordeaux. At the end of that time, the countess, without any known cause, assumed all the outward marks of deep mourning, and threw her establishment into the same sable colours. Within a month or two afterwards, it was noticed by observant eyes that she seemed to distinguish more than usually a certain Monsieur Longpré, a wealthy gentleman of Bordeaux, who had pursued her with unabated ardour for three years, in spite of all her reserve, and even her coldness. The alteration in her manner to him was sufficiently pointed to lead people to conclude, that he would prove the happy man in due time. But his own thoughts about the matter were very unsettled, as the following words from his lips will partly prove. Seizing an occasion to press his suit, when the countess allowed him the honour of an interview, he broke forth at length in half-reproachful tones-" Inesilla, why prolong this state of suspense, so torturing to me? Unless I deceive myself, you favour me above others around you; yes, you love me. I own I have this happy belief. What, then, causes your hesitation, since you are a widow and free? Is it not so? If you are moved by any feelings respecting your child, you know that I love him, and for your sake will love him always."

*[The Grimsel is a lofty pass on the Bernese Alps, admitting
travellers from the central part of Switzerland into the valley of
the Rhone on the south. Murray, in his admirable Hand-Book,
gives the following anecdote respecting this dismal wilderness:—
"During the campaign of 1799, the Austrians actually encamped
for some time upon the top of the Grimsel, and during their stay
gutted the hospice, using every morsel of wood-work for fuel.
Every attempt of the French general Lecourbe to dislodge them The countess, at these words, rose from her seat,
failed, when a peasant of Guttanen, named Nägeli, offered to
walked to where her guitar lay, and ran heedlessly
self, to the rear of the Austrian position, on condition that the
conduct a detachment by a circuitous path, known only to him-
over its strings for a few moments. She then turned
mountain he was about to cross should be given to him as his re-
to the little boy who was playing near her, and said to
ward. This being agreed to, a party, commanded by General him, "Juanito! Juanito! go and drive your hum-
Gadin, led by Nageli over the Doltithorn and the glaciers of Ghelming-top elsewhere; the noise gives me a headache.”
which they occupied. They were seized with a panic, and fled at
man, fell upon the Austrians unawares, from a point above that The boy came and sought a caress, and then ran
once-many in the direction of the glacier of Aar, where escape
cheerfully away. After his departure, there was a
was hopeless; and those who were not shot by the French perished pause for a minute or two, which the countess broke
in the rents and chasms, where human bones, rusty arms, and in upon by saying, "Let us talk, M. Longpré, on a
tattered clothes, are even now met with, and attest their miser- subject different from the last. This guitar has re-
able fate. The guide of the French did not profit by his barren
minded me of Spain-of Madrid-and of Manuela,
mountain, remaining as poor as before he became possessed of it,
but it has since been called after him, Nägeli's Gratli.”"]
a poor girl there. Her story is an interesting one;

listen, and I will tell it to you—that is, if you choose to hear it." Though the lover was by no means pleased at this evasion of the subject which he had so much at heart, there was so much of grave sweetness in the tones with which the countess made the request, that he at once expressed his willingness to hear the story.

"There lived at Madrid, five years ago," began the countess, "a merchant named Morales, whose fortune was so considerable, that his only daughter was deemed one of the best matches in the city. Dolorès, as she was called, joined to her pecuniary advantages a countenance and form which the young men of Madrid declared to be of superior beauty. A cavalier, the flower of the noble youths of Spain, saw and loved her. I will spare you, my friend, an account of all the concerts and serenades by which Don Miguel sought to excite a reciprocal passion in the heart of Dolorès. Young, noble, accomplished, and rich, he soon made the desired impression, and, no obstacles being interposed, he was received in the house of Morales as an accepted suitor. Like others of her race and sex, Dolorès was jealous of possessing love where she gave love; and again and again, to please her, Don Miguel vowed that the daughter of Morales was the only woman who had ever touched his heart, and that she should be his last love, as she was his first. The marriageday of the happy pair was fixed; it came; and before the priest and her friends, Dolorès gave her hand to Don Miguel.

A ball followed in the evening. It was yet early, when Dolorès, overpowered by the warmth of the dancing-rooms, and agitated by the all-important event of the day, retired for a few minutes with some of her female friends, in order to rest herself and calm her spirits. She was still seated in her chamber with her companions, when a footstep was heard at the door of the apartment. You cannot enter-do not enter, Don Miguel!' cried one or two of the ladies, starting up from the easy postures into which, fatigued by the dance, they had thrown themselves. They conceived that Don Miguel had missed Dolorès from the dance, and had come to inquire after her. But when, in spite of their exclamation, the door of the chamber was opened, they beheld-not Don Miguel, but Manuela, the flower-girl.

Manuela, the flower-girl, was so remarkable for her beauty and handsome figure, that few who were in the habit of walking on the Prado were unacquainted with her by name and appearance. But when she entered the chamber of Dolorès on the marriageevening of the latter, very unlike her usual aspect was that presented by the flower-girl. Her long black hair hung in disorder around her pale face, and her dark eyes flamed with feverish excitement. She bore before her, by a strap, her flower-basket, in which lay, bedded upon flowers, an infant of two months old. Where is the bride?' demanded Manuela, hoarsely, as soon as she entered.

'Manuela!' cried Dolorès, trembling she knew not why, yet endeavouring to seem at ease, 'I am the bride; and you shall bear my bouquets to court.'

You the bride? exclaimed Manuela, who knew and was known to Dolorès; is it you whom he is to marry?'

6

'Whom he is to marry, Manuela?' answered Dolorès; say whom he has married! Hath not Don Miguel sent you-sent you to strew our nuptial way with flowers?'

already.'

| dying flower-girl. 'Manuela,' cried she, this child very evident
shall never be parted from me while I live. Manu-
ela! Manuela!" continued she in tones of the deepest
sympathy, live for your child and Don Miguel-he
shall be restored to you; mine he is not, and never
shall be! Ah, help! she dies!'

While Dolores was thus engaged, Don Miguel continued to press for admittance; and by this time, either through the noise, or by reason of the bride's absence, a whisper had gone through the mansion that something was amiss. Moralès, with a number of the party, left the ball-room, and came to the door of his daughter's chamber. My child,' cried he, 'it is I. Open to me; if anything be amiss, let your father be with you. Open to me.'

6

On hearing her father's voice, Dolorès, who was tenderly wiping the foam from the convulsed lips of Manuela, roused herself, and gave orders for the opening of the chamber-door. Let all enter,' she said firmly. Her command was obeyed; and the first person who rushed forward was Don Miguel. What was his amazement and horror, when, upon the bridalbed of Dolores, he saw the pale countenance of one but too well known to him. Manuela had not yet expired. At the instant of his advance, she opened her eyes, and a flash of fire shot across their enfeebled lustre. She slowly raised her finger, and directing it towards him, she said, 'Miserable man, I pardon thee But beware of my father-he will kill thee!' As she spoke, Manuela sank backwards, and died almost instantly in the arms of Dolorès.

when we look down the long lists of forgeries. A common means of detection pointed out, is the inferior execution of the spurious notes and Take the following the wrong spelling of names. extract as an example, referring to a 1 dollar note:"Union Bank of New York-New York

par. 1 dollar, letter A, dated Oct. 1, 1840. Cashier's name, Daniel Ebbetts, is not spelled right, one t being omitted. The figure of Washington on the vignette on the right is tall, and the eyes small, and the one in the centre of note badly done." Or, the following of a 20 dollar note on the same bank: 20 dollars, letter A, payable to H. Cott, dated Oct. 1, 1840. May be detected by the names of the engravers in the genuine, Caesleur, Durand, Burton, and Edmonds; in the counterfeit, Edmonds is spelt Edmons.' The following, among several others, is given under the head Cattskill Bank:

[ocr errors]

"10 dollars, dated Nov. 1, 1836., lett. A, signed H. Hill, cash. Thos. B. Cooke, pres., purporting to be engraved by Cardu, Durand, Austin, and Edmonds-a very close imitation of the genuine. The engraving is rather coarser, note larger, paper thicker, and the margins are broader-the cashier's name a fae simile-president's not so good."

There are many hundreds of notices of the above kind; and a not less frequent description of forgeries seems to be the alteration of certain words or figures on genuine notes, so as to make them pass for larger sums than those for which they were actually issued. The following are examples of this ingenious roguery.

The first is the alteration of 5 into 50 on the notes of the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company :

"50 dollars altered from 5 dollars easily detected if you observe the insertion of the word fifty in place of the word fire--the former word being also smaller than the word dollars, with which it should correspond."

The following is under the head "Mechanics' Banking Association :"

The dying woman, her words, and the sight of the infant, formed but too full an explanation of this scene to all who had entered the chamber. Conscience-struck, at least for the moment, Don Miguel fled from the spot. The affair made a great noise in Madrid, but none could condole with Dolorès on the subject, as, on the morning after the event, she had dollars, and of course in the altered 5 dollars, a single figure of quitted Madrid with the child of Manuela. She fled. Can you guess who she was, and whither she fled?" I can-I see her before me!"

[ocr errors]

"You are right. I fled, in the first instance, with the child of Manuela to a convent, where my father visited me, and where we concerted measures to prevent the assertion by Don Miguel of those marital rights, which worlds would not have tempted me now to concede. It was deemed best that I should go to France. I did so, and was never molested by Don Miguel while he lived: but within the past year the words of Manuela were fulfilled. Her betrayer fell by the hand of her father.

Now, M. Longpré," continued the countess," you wish me to be your wife. I-I own I esteem-I love you; but my heart trembles at the recollection of the past, for believe not that I escaped without suffering. Assure me on this point, and my hand is yours. I well believe that you would not insult me by paying addresses while bound by other legal engagements; but assure me that none can renew in your case the death-scene of Manuela-that the vows paid to me are not violations of the actual though unacknowledged rights of any other-and I am willingly, gladly yours."

M. Longpré, need we say, eagerly gave the assurance required. Nor did he deceive her. When their marriage-day came, as it soon did, the happiness of Dolorès suffered no alloy from the cause which she had long feared, and her marriage-day afforded only a specimen of the uninterrupted felicity of many after years.

OCCASIONAL NOTES.

THE BANK-NOTE SYSTEM OF AMERICA.

"The traitor!' cried Manuela. 'Behold that in fant it is his-it is mine-it is ours!' The tears of the flower-girl here burst forth in torrents; but she checked them, and continued- Ah! if you knew all his treachery-all his wickedness. I-a poor girl— sought to avoid him; but he married me-yes, he WE have lately seen a very remarkable document, married me, and the marriage was a false one! I received by a friend from New York. It is a large discovered his deceit; but he came to my father, and octavo sheet of sixteen pages, each page containing to my mother, and he calmed them by renewing all three closely-printed columns, and is entitled, "Day's his protestations and his promises. It is two months New York Bank - Note List, and Counterfeit Desince my child was born; he was with me then, but tector:" it purports to have been established in 1819, I knew not, though I know now, that it was but to being the oldest paper of the kind, and to be published deceive me the more fully. He already loved you-date September 16, 1841. The matter of the sheet once a fortnight. The copy shown to us is of the Here the poor flower-girl fell down in an exhausted state. She was tenderly cared for by the agitated bride and her friends, and recovered somewhat her strength. "Only to-day, about two hours since, I learnt that Don Miguel was to wed another. Then I thought, in my madness, of killing him; but I grew more calm. Poor child! what would have become of him-his father killed his mother poisoned!' The fainting condition of the flower-girl explained her words. She had not avenged herself on Don Miguel-but, unable to live, she had taken poison. Take my child,' said she to the bride, as she grew momentarily weaker; 'protect him, watch over him, be a mother to him. If you can still love Don Miguel after his cruel abandonment of his child and me, the poor flower-girl shall not be in your way. But, oh! promise, to a dying mother, that you will take care of her child!'

[ocr errors]

Dolores had rather signed than spoken the desired promise, when a knock was heard at the chamberdoor. Dolores instantly caused it to be fastened within. The knocks were then repeated, and the voice of Don Miguel was heard desiring admittance. You cannot enter,' answered one of the women. The bridegroom addressed himself to Dolores, and, seeming to believe her ill, besought admittance. The passionate words of affection which he poured out for the ear of the bride fell unheeded. Dolores hung over the

consists of lists of banks in the various states of the Union; the whole, according to a rough calculation, amounting to about twelve hundred in number; and along with the name of each of these banks is given the current value of its notes, and a short description of the forgeries upon them. In some cases, only the name of a bank is given, along with a single word, or two fractional figures, significant of the value of, or discount on, its paper: thus

;"

"Merchant's Bank, Norwich, but, more commonly, to the name of the bank is appended a list of forgeries upon its different notes. Sometimes a bank appears to be exposed to not fewer than twelve different kinds of forgeries of its notes; the average is not less than six, and, multiplying the 1200 banks by this number, we find that there is not fewer than 7200 varieties of forged bank-notes in circulation. How many notes of each variety are issued, we are presented with no means of judging. To meet this seemingly universal depreciation and forgery, the sheet we allude to is published. It may be considered an indispensable pocket-companion for every individual carrying on business, and also every workman-a kind of dictionary, which requires to be consulted on almost every occasion that a note is presented in payment or exchange.

[ocr errors]

The necessity for such a remembrancer becomes

5 dollars altered from 2 dollars. The vignette of the true 5 dollars is a group of four human beings and a lion-in the 2

Ceres.

20 dollars altered from 3 dollars, so well done as to pass with some of the city brokers. These altered notes can readily be detected by holding up the bill to the light. The bank has issued no such denomination."

Another species of fraud consists in altering the name of a broken bank into the name of a solvent

one; and the number of places of the same name favours the deception. For instance, there are perhaps a dozen places with the names of Franklin and Monroe, and unless the state, or some other local distinction, be added, it is difficult to know which Franklin or Monroe is meant. The Monroe Bank, Rochester, has, it appears, suffered from this cause. Under the head of that bank the following occurs :—

"Bills of the broken bank of Monroe, Michigan, have been so altered as to resemble this bank. Hold up the bills to the light, and you will readily detect the cheat."

There is a similar fraud on the Commercial Bank of Baltimore

"5 dollars struck from the old 5 dollars on the Commercial Bank of New York having been issued. The word New-York has been extracted, and Baltimore substituted in its place." What a state of commercial affairs and moral depravity does all this disclose !

NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES.

The "Literary Gazette❞—a paper which seems ever ready to encourage improvements connected with taste-has the following in a late number :

"In the House of Commons on Monday evening, Mr Wyse gave notice of a motion for next session of Parliament, to which we most earnestly wish the utmost success. It is to pray her Majesty to direct the establishment, under efficient management and control, and on a scale commensurate with the dignity of the country, of a National Museum for the reception and preservation of objects connected with the History and Antiquities of the British Islands. Thousands of interesting specimens of British, Celtic, Roman, Danish, and other antiquities, would be contributed from private possessions and collections. The Society of Antiquaries might find a proper place for the reception of many curious matters now buried in its narrow and confused repositories. All similar earth or ancient buildings would at once be taken to things hereafter recovered from the bowels of the their fitting home, and be preserved for ever. Even from foreign parts we might expect the return of objects belonging to our isle in days of old; and, in short, we should have a national museum worthy of the prince and the people."

To these propositions there can be no reasonable objection; but we beg to state what we think is a very general opinion, that the establishment of great museums in London-as this one, we suppose, is to be-is not the only way of promoting national improvement. If the preservation of objects of antiquity be of use, we should, by all means, recommend that means be adopted by the nation at large to preserve, on the spots where they rest, all architectural or archaiological remains calculated to throw light on past manners or history. Within this category might be included the preservation of town-crosses, watch-towers, fragments of city and Roman walls, feudal keeps and castles, abbeys and cathedrals, bridges of ancient construction, Druidic stones and tumuli, cairns, &c., all, in as far as such could be accomplished at a moderate expense, and consistently with modern convenience. We trust that antiquarian societies, wherever established, will make a move at the proper time on this subject. Civic authorities, with their usual disregard of taste, have seldom had any respect for antiquities, however curious; and as, in a number of places, they

« AnteriorContinua »