out so as to have a small hole at the escapement end, the gas may be lighted; it will burn with a small weak flame. Caution is here necessary if the gas be lighted before the atmospheric air be driven out, an accident may ensue from the bursting of the bottle; safety may be ensured by holding round the bottle a handkerchief, when no mischief will occur but the blowing out of the cork. If the hydrogen gas be made in a retort, and caught, as described, for oxygen, a lighted taper may be introduced; it will be immediately extinguished, but the hydrogen gas will be set on fire. Hydrogen gas being much lighter than common air, it may be as well to hold the vessel with the mouth downwards, and light the gas in that position.

From the preceding remarks, the tests for the three simple gases, oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen, may be known.

Oxygen will not burn, but supports combustion.

Nitrogen will neither burn nor support combustion.

Hydrogen burns, but does not support combustion; while burning, hold over the flame a glass vessel, and musical tones will be produced. A mixture of hydrogen and oxygen gases burns with a small flame, but this gives a most intense heat; these gases are employed with the oxyhydrogen blowpipe.

If an electric spark be passed through a proper mixture of oxygen and hydrogen gases, water will be produced.

Manchester, 15th July, 1843.

W. W.

THE FADED NOSEGAY.

And yield we unto nature ought
Of loftier, or of holier thought,
Than they, who gave sublimest power
To the small sprig and simplest flower.

A LADY, in some pain of mind and much of body, threaded her way through the narrow paths of a small but most luxuriant garden; it was at an inn in the country, where she had taken up her abode while exploring the beauties of the surrounding neighbourhood. The landlady courteously permitted her to gather a little bouquet to solace her on the mid-day drive along a sultry road: the offer was gratefully accepted, for the lady loved flowers; she loved also to trace, through these minute objects of creation, the hand which has so skilfully formed all that is vast and wonderful in nature,—all that is good and enduring in the mind of the sage or the martyrs.

We can never think with sufficient gratitude on that Providence which has granted us so gracious a boon in the bright colours and sweet scents of flowers. What gladsome feelings are excited by the passing view of a well filled flower-garden by the road-side, more especially if it belong to

a poor cottager! Around the rich man's habitation we trace the hand of the skilful gardener, and witness the effects produced by wealth and art; but in the poor man's garden we feel sure that it is his own care which has reared the gay flower, or the useful root, and in some cases we rejoice to know that the hours thus spent have been redeemed from the alehouse.

I remember once visiting a floricultural show at the Royal Hotel at Plymouth. As I was staying in the house, I was allowed to enter the room before other visitors were admitted. Gardeners, from all parts of the lovely county of Devon, were flocking in, with their specimens carefully sheltered by lathwork and canvas. Amongst the rest came a poor woman, with a nosegay of sweet-peas, mignionette, and pansies: on her arm she carried a basket of early peas and some very fine lettuces. She paused before the long table appropriated to the offerings from cottagers. I went up and spoke to her. Dropping a courtesy, she told me that it was with a very grateful heart she presented her humble basket, heedless "almost" whether she should gain a prize, for in truth she had already enjoyed her recompense, most precious to the heart of a loving woman: she had, by means of her garden, rescued her husband from a life of dissipation-had saved him from the influence of evil companions. About four years before the event which I am now narrating, some ladies from an adjoining village had called upon her and told her that the Horticultural Society had determined to give prizes for cottage products. She caught the idea with avidity, and asked many questions, carefully treasuring up the answers, to further her pious wish of turning the heart of her husband. He had, even in the midst of his low pursuits, always retained his love for flowers, and when on a Sunday by the care of his wife he enjoyed the luxury of a clean shirt and neckcloth, he never considered himself fully equipped without a rosebud in the button-hole of his best coat, or a daisy between his lips. And now she so eloquently set forth the plan recommended by the ladies, that she induced him, or, as she expressed it, "sperited him up" to cultivate the hitherto neglected plot of ground. At the outset he worked not very zealously or steadily, but, urged on by vanity at first, he soon became truly interested in the occupation; the gain of a prize stimulated him still further, till his garden so took up his time and attention, that he left off all his former evil pursuits, attended industriously to his daily avocation, which was that of a mason, and in the early morning and late in the evening his leisure hours are devoted to his garden, which elicits praise from every passer-by. "And now," continued the enthusiastic woman, "I don't know where you will find three happier persons than my husband and me and our pretty little daughter Mary, who is about three years old."

This, dear reader, has been a long, long digression; I have been led into it almost involuntarily. I ask my reader's forgiveness, and offer its truth in excuse for its plainness.

The lady walking in the garden, wandered from flower to flower,

gathering the sweetest, and laying up in her mind a sweeter store of good thoughts, of resignation, and gratitude. At the end of the day, on returning from her excursion, while sitting on the stump of a tree in the garden, enjoying the cool breeze of the evening, she observed that the nosegay in her belt was faded, and threw it carelessly into a bed of lilies. Again, early next morning, she paid a farewell visit to the little garden in which she had taken such delight, and lo! the faded nosegay had regained its freshness; there it lay on the bosom of the humble lilies, restored by the morning dew, which sparkled amongst their green leaves; she picked up the now revived flowers, and raised her heart in a grateful prayer to heaven; they had brought to her mind the comforting words of scripture, "There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth." And the so lately sorrowing heart went on its way rejoicing, E. W. H.

The Priory, Peckham, August 5th, 1843.

THE LOCOMOTIVE.

MARK well his swift course as he comes in his pride,
As he comes with the sound of the deep rolling tide;
Saw ever ye courser so handsome and trim,
So neat, so compact, with such strength of limb!
Was ever yet war-horse so harness'd in mail,

As that which now thunders along on the rail?
Did ever there barb paw and snort with such scorn,

As that now before us, of man's genius born?
Its speed is its glory; its strength is its pride;
And its deep breathing pant rolls away far and wide;

Its ribs are of iron, and banded with brass,

Which give back an image as mirror of glass;
Note well 'neath its sides how the impulse is given,
That makes it the swiftest of cars 'neath the heaven :-

Two giants, confined by man's greater art,

Their strong arms release with an alternate start,
And in the vain struggles they make to get free,
Impel the car onward,`past house, field, and tree:
Then panting and toiling they ever must stay,
And work without murmur by night and by day.
On, on it then rolls! in the pomp of its power,
And chases some thirty miles o'er in an hour;
Unheedful of wind, unheedful of storm,
Unheedful of time, dark night, or bright morn.
If even as poet I praises would sing-

If ever pay homage to mortal-made thing-
If ever the welkin my voice should hear ring-

It would be from my heart to the Travelling King.

D. J.

TEGG'S MAGAZINE.

Prize Essay.

DECISION OF CHARACTER.

BY W. S. ROOKER, Esq.

"He hesitated and was lost."

THE term character, as is the case with most words in common use, is far from possessing the precision of a technical term, and therefore has various applications. In reference to the mind, it is most frequently applied to a description of the moral nature of its subject; and rightly so, as the moral faculties are unquestionably of supreme value and excellence. The term is also employed in a larger application, to denote a description, general or specific, of the mental qualities, including the development of both the moral and intellectual faculties. Or again, the term is perhaps as commonly applied to the description of some distinguishing mental quality or faculty. It is clear that in the latter sense it is employed in reference to our present subject.

In treating, then, of the distinguishing quality before us, in examining the foundations and fair proportions of this "column of true majesty in man," it will be our first duty to assign it its just place as a mental quality. We take it for granted that no definition of the subject is necessary. Its general idea is at once apparent. In logical process of argument, and in the conduct of scientific research, accurate definitions are not only appropriate, but truly valuable; but we conceive that abstract definitions of portions of mental character are at once absurd, and a waste alike of time and space, if practical value be esteemed the end. That practical value is only of real importance; for however minute analysis of mind may amuse the curious, and fill up the hours of a busy idleness, yet we believe that substantial good will be alone secured by delineation of character shown in the light of truth.

It is a common error in the consideration of many subjects, to regard them as of the same nature when they have really no essential connexion. And this error arises from the common possession of some quality, or the attainment of the same object. And thus it is that decision of character has come to be considered by some as in itself a virtue, when maturer

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reflection will enforce the conviction that it is not truly entitled to that high distinction. In proof of this, the single fact is enough that this master quality may and often does exist apart from any virtuous intention, and is frequently most eminent in direct pursuance of evil. Decision, we grant, is a noble quality, and gives to character a unity and power, and an all-commanding influence, which it otherwise would not obtain. But majesty is not virtue, nor is power. Virtue is noble, but her majesty is owing to the firm attitude which decision of character gives her; and when most influential and important, she is mainly indebted for her commanding power to the great mental attribute we are considering, which her principles call into exercise. Decision of character, then, though essential—at least in great measure so-to the accomplishment of virtuous ends, and to the development and growth of virtuous principles, and to their power and majesty, is not an element of virtue itself. Decision of character, we grant, when in perfect exercise, bending all its power to the promotion of the interests of truth and rectitude, and, at the same time, as part of its appropriate development, obeying the control of the moral, and, as far as possible, the social and kindly relations with which it is concerned, appears as Virtue in her noblest and most perfect form. But when stripped of its purpose and righteous control, decision of character is a quality of power, and power alone, excellent only as it is capable of virtuous direction.

It would be absurd for us to commit an error frequently committed in the consideration of qualities akin to those of a moral nature, namely, to advocate their claims with such an over-estimate of their importance, as if they combined all excellence. Decision of character, excellent and important as it is in the capability of its power, does not include every mental excellence. Indeed, when in strongest exercise, it is often opposed to those less conspicuous qualities which all admire and value. A determined will, combined with indomitable energy, will proceed along its high career of purpose, perhaps noble and valuable, despising alike those tastes and charities which diffuse through life a charm and sweetness of social existence, and even at times at variance with the cultivation of those lovely virtues and amiabilities which greatly heighten that loveliness. The bird of the strongest wing and most adventurous flight is not the sweetest songster of our woods and vales, nor pours forth the richest melody. Nor is it the highest mountain, though its surpassing loftiness may tell of sublimity and majesty, and inspire the mind with awe and wonder, that bears upon its summit the richest verdure, and the combination of greatest beauty. Rather, as it rises, does it leave the warmth and beauty below. The pine may crown the rock, but not in such an elevation are seen the rose, the lily, the violet-none of the brightest flowers or most luxurious fruits. Valuable as decision of character is, in its exercise as well as its results, to the successful attainment of moral and intellectual excellence, it is not excellence itself, abstractedly considered. Its excellence depends on its use. It is a power-it may be of great intensity-good only when used aright.