It would be a curious thing, if they could be traced out, to ascertain

the origin of half the quaint old sayings and maxims that have come down

to the present time from unknown generations. Who, for example, was

“§Dick§,” who had the odd-looking “hat-band,” and who has so long been

the synonym or representative of oddly-acting people? Who knows any

thing authentic of the leanness of “Job’s turkey,” who has so many

followers in the ranks of humanity? Scores of other sayings there are,

concerning which similar questions might be asked. Who ever knew, until

comparatively late years, what was the origin of the cautionary saying,

“Mind your P’s and Q’s”? A modern antiquarian, however, has put the

world right in relation to _that_ saying. In ale-houses, in the olden

time, when chalk “scores” were marked upon the wall, or behind the door

of the tap-room, it was customary to put the initials “P” and “Q” at the

head of every man’s account, to show the number of “pints” and “quarts”

for which he was in arrears; and we may presume many a friendly rustic

to have tapped his neighbor on the shoulder, when he was indulging too

freely in his potations, and to have exclaimed, as he pointed to the

chalk-score, “Mind your P’s and Q’s, man! mind your P’s and Q’s!” The

writer from whom we glean this information mentions an amusing anecdote

in connection with it, which had its origin in London, at the time a

“Learned Pig” was attracting the attention of half the town. A

theatrical wag, who attended the porcine performances, maliciously set

before the four-legged actor some _peas_,—a temptation which the animal

could not resist, and which immediately occasioned him to lose the “cue”

given him by the showman. The pig-exhibitor remonstrated with the author

of the mischief on the unfairness of what he had done; to which he

replied, “I only wanted to ascertain whether the pig knew his ‘peas’

from his ‘cues!’”

ALL FOOLS’ DAY.

April the First stands marked by custom’s rules,

A day of being, and of making, fools.

The First of April, as is well known, is distinguished in the calendar

by the singular appellation of “_All Fools’ Day_.” It would be a curious

exception to common experience, if, on the recurrence of this memorable

epoch in the division of time, multitudes were not betrayed into a due

observance of its peculiarities. Many grave and unsuspecting people have

been sent upon the most frivolous and nonsensical errands. Many a

passer-by has been told that there was something out of his pocket,

which was his hand; or something on his face, which was his nose. Many a

school-boy has been sent to the shoemaker’s for stirrup-oil, which he

would get from a strap, across his shoulders; or to ask a schoolmistress

for the biography of Eve’s mother; or to an old bachelor to purchase

pigeon’s milk. Many a printer’s “devil” has been sent to a neighboring

editor for a quart of editorial, and received in return a picture of a

jackass; and many a pretty girl despatched to the handsome druggist

round the corner for the essence of tulips (two-lips,) which she would

sometimes box the pharmaceutic ears for offering to give her. Some would

be summoned, upon the most unfounded pretexts, out of their warm beds,

an hour or more before the accustomed time. Others were enticed to open

packages, promising ample remuneration, but full of disappointment; and

others again, as they passed along the streets, were captivated by the

sight of pieces of spurious coin, which, when they essayed to lift, they

found securely fastened to the pavement,—together with various other

whimsicalities, which under other circumstances would have been deemed

highly offensive, but, happening on the First of April, were considered,

if not agreeable, at least comparatively harmless. The _origin_ of this

strange custom is shrouded in mystery. It has been traced by some to the

scene in the life of Jesus when he was sent from Pilate to Herod, and

back from Herod to Pilate, which occurred about this period.

Brady’s _Clavis Calendaria_, published in 1812, mentions that more than

a century previous the almanacs designated the First of April as “All

Fools’ Day.” In the northern counties of England and Scotland, the jokes

on that day were practised to a great extent, and it scarcely required

an apology to experiment upon the gravest and most respectable of city

or country gentlemen and women. The person whose good nature or

simplicity put him momentarily in the power of his facetious neighbor

was called a “_gowk_”—and the sending upon ridiculous errands, “_hunting

the gowk_.” The term “_gowk_” was a common expression for a cuckoo,

which was reckoned among the silliest and simplest of all the feathered

tribes.

In France, the person made the butt upon these occasions was styled “_un

poisson d’Avril_”—that is, an April fish—by implication, an April

fool—“_poisson d’Avril_,” the familiar name of the _mackerel_, a fish

easily caught by deception, singly and in shoals, at this season of the

year. The term “April fool” was therefore, probably, nothing more than

an easy substitution of that opprobrious epithet for fish, and it is

quite likely that our ancestors borrowed the custom from France, with

this change in the phrase peculiar to the occasion. It is possible,

however, that it may have been derived from _poison_, mischief. Among

the French, ridicule is the most successful weapon for correcting folly

and holding vice in _terrorem_. A Frenchman is more afraid of a

successful _bon mot_ at his expense than of a sword, and the First of

April is a day, therefore, of which he can make a double application: he

may gratify his love of pleasantry among his friends, or inflict a

severe wound on his enemies, if he possess the art and wit to invent and

perpetrate a worthy piece of foolery upon them. One of the best tricks

that ever occurred in France was that of Rabelais, who fooled the

officers of justice, when he had no money, into conveying him from

Marseilles to Paris on a charge of treason got up for the purpose, and,

when arrived there, showing them how they were hoaxed. For this purpose

he made up some brick-dust and ashes in different packets, labelled as

poisons for the royal family of France. The bait took, and he was

conveyed to the capital as a traitor, seven hundred miles, only to

explain the joke.

There is a very common practical joke on fools’ day in the British

metropolis: it consists in despatching a letter by an unlucky dupe, who

is to wait for an answer. The answer is a second note, to a third

person, “to send the fool farther.” A young surgeon, a greenhorn in

practice, fresh from St. Bartholomew’s, his instruments unfleshed on his

own account, and his surgery bottles full to repletion, was called a few

years ago from the Strand to a patient in Newgate Street, very rich,

named Dobbs. It was the First of April, and it was his first patient.

The young Esculapius was ushered into the presence of the supposed

patient, who was busy writing in his counting-house. The surgeon

explained his errand, and Mr. Dobbs, having an excellent mercantile

discernment, soon saw through the affair. He bowed and said, “It is a

mistake, sir: my name is Dobbs, but I am, thank God, hale and hearty. It

is my brother, the sugar-baker, on Fish Street Hill, that has sent for

you, [carriage or horse he had none,] three-fourths of a mile farther.”

He entered among the pyramids of snowy sweets, and found Mr. Dobbs, the

sugar-baker, of Fish Street Hill, as hale as his brother of Newgate

Street. The refiner of saccharine juice understood his brother’s note,

stammered out a pretended apology for the mistake, and said he supposed,

as the young man’s directions were to Mr. J. Dobbs, and not Mr. Jeffry

Dobbs, that was intended; that his name was Jeffry, but his brother

John, a third member of the family, and in his business, lived at

Limehouse, whither he thought, if our surgeon proceeded, he would find

the person he sought. An address was handed the young tourniquet at the

extreme end of Limehouse, which address, it is needless to say, was

false. What will not a surgeon do to obtain his first patient, and a

rich one too? Away he posted to Limehouse, and soon found how far he had

travelled for nothing. Tired and disappointed, and scheming vengeance on

the authors of the hoax, he set off on his return home, cursing the

Dobbs family every step he went. As he passed along Upper Shadwell, he

saw a horse gallop furiously down Chamomile Street and fling its rider a

heavy fall on the pavement. He ran and lifted the fallen man, whom he

found insensible. He conveyed him to a shop hard by, bled him, and had

the satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes. Suffice it to say that, on

being conveyed home, our young surgeon attended him until he was

restored to health; and so gratefully were his exertions received by the

stranger, who was a rich East India merchant, far advanced in life, that

he took him into his house as a medical attendant and friend, and

ultimately left him the bulk of his property. Thus, out of an intended

Fools’ Day hoax, by the inscrutable caprice of fortune, a frolic led its

dupe to wealth. This anecdote, according to the London Athenæum, may be

depended on as true, nothing in the story but the name adopted, to

conceal the real actors in the drama, being fictitious.

A day of fooleries, the _Huli Fest_, is observed, also, among the

Hindoos, attended with the like silly species of witticism.

By many it is believed that the term “_all_” is a corruption of _auld_

or _old_, thereby making it originally “Old Fools’ Day,” in confirmation

of which opinion the following observation is quoted from an ancient

Roman calendar respecting the 1st of November:—“The feast of old fools

is removed to this day.” The oldest almanacs extant, however, have it

_all_ (and not _old_) fools’ day. Besides the Roman “Saturnalia” and the

Druidical rites, superstitions which the early Christians found in

existence when they commenced their labors in England, was the _Festum

Fatuorum_, or _Fools’ Holiday_, which was doubtless our present First of

April. In some of the German classics frequent mention is made of the

_Aprilen Narr_, so that even the Germans of the olden time understood

how to practise their cunning April arts upon their neighbors quite as

well as we of the present day.

Enough has been here quoted to prove that the custom is of very ancient

existence; but the precise _origin_ thereof remains undiscovered, and

will have to be dug from some of the musty chronicles of gray antiquity.

But, be the origin of the custom what it may, we cannot avoid the

conclusion that it is one “more honored in the breach than in the

observance.”

CARDS.

About the year 1390, cards were invented to divert Charles IV., then

King of France, who was fallen into a melancholy disposition. That they

were not in use before appears highly probable. 1st, Because no cards

are to be seen in any paintings, sculpture, tapestry, &c. more ancient

than the preceding period, but are represented in many works of

ingenuity since that age. 2dly, No prohibitions relative to cards, by

the king’s edicts, are mentioned; although some few years before, a most

severe one was published, forbidding by name all manner of sports and

pastimes, in order that the subjects might exercise themselves in

shooting with bows and arrows and be in a condition to oppose the

English. Now, it is not to be presumed that so luring a game as cards

would have been omitted in the enumeration had they been in use. 3dly,

In all the ecclesiastical canons prior to the same time, there occurs no

mention of cards; although, twenty years after that date, card-playing

was interdicted the clergy by a Gallican Synod. About the same time is

found in the account-book of the king’s cofferer the following

charge:—“Paid for a pack of painted leaves bought for the king’s

amusement, three livres.” Printing and stamping being not then

discovered, the cards were painted, which made them dear. Thence, in the

above synodical canons, they are called _pagillæ pictæ_, painted little

leaves. 4thly, About thirty years after this came a severe edict against

cards in France, and another by Emanuel, Duke of Savoy, only permitting

the ladies this pastime, _pro spinilis_, for pins and needles.

_Of their designs._—The inventor proposed by the figures of the four

suits, or colors, as the French call them, to represent the four states

or classes of men in the kingdom. By the _Cæsars_ (hearts) are meant the

_Gens de Chœur_, choir-men, or ecclesiastics; and therefore the

Spaniards, who certainly received the use of cards from the French, have

_copas_ or chalices instead of hearts. The nobility, or prime military

part of the kingdom, are represented by the ends or points of lances, or

pikes; and our ignorance of the meaning or resemblance of the figure

induced us to call them spades. The Spaniards have _espadas_ (swords) in

lieu of pikes, which is of similar import. By diamonds are designated

the order of citizens, merchants, and tradesmen, _carraux_, (square

stone tiles, or the like.) The Spaniards have a coin _dineros_, which

answers to it; and the Dutch call the French word _carreaux_,

_stieneen_, stones and diamonds, from the form. _Treste_, the trefoil

leaf, or clover grass, (corruptly called clubs,) alludes to husbandmen

and peasants. How this suit came to be called clubs is not explained,

unless, borrowing the game from the Spaniards, who have _bastos_ (staves

or clubs) instead of the trefoil, we gave the Spanish signification to

the French figure.

The “history of the four kings,” which the French in drollery sometimes

call “the cards,” is that of _David_, _Alexander_, _Cæsar_, and

_Charles_, names which were, and still are, on the French cards. These

respective names represent the four celebrated monarchies of the Jews,

Greeks, Romans, and Franks under Charlemagne.

By the queens are intended _Argine_, _Esther_, _Judith_, and _Pallas_,

(names retained in the French cards,) typical of birth, piety,

fortitude, and wisdom, the qualifications residing in each person.

“Argine” is an anagram for “Regina,” queen by descent.

By the knaves were designed the servants to knights, (for knave

originally meant only servant; and in an old translation of the Bible,

St. Paul is called the knave of Christ,) but French pages and valets,

now indiscriminately used by various orders of persons, were formerly

only allowed to persons of quality, esquires, (escuiers,) shield or

armor bearers. Others fancy that the knights themselves were designed by

those cards, because _Hogier_ and _Lahire_, two names on the French

cards, were famous knights at the time cards were supposed to be

invented.

SUB ROSA.

But when we with caution a secret disclose,

We cry, “Be it spoken, sir, under the rose.”

Since ’tis known that the rose was an emblem of old,

Whose leaves by their closeness taught secrets to hold;

And ’twas thence it was painted on tables so oft

As a warning, lest, when with a frankness men scoft

At their neighbor, their lord, their fat priest, or their nation,

Some among ’em next day should betray conversation.

_British Apollo_, 1708.

The origin of the phrase _under the rose_ implies secrecy, and had its

origin during the year §B.C.§ 477, at which time Pausanias, the

commander of the confederate fleet of the Spartans and Athenians, was

engaged in an intrigue with Xerxes for the subjugation of Greece to the

Persian rule, and for the hand of the monarch’s daughter in marriage.

Their negotiations were carried on in a building attached to the temple

of Minerva, called the Brazen House, the roof of which was a garden

forming a bower of roses; so that the plot, which was conducted with the

utmost secrecy, was literally matured _under the rose_. Pausanias,

however, was betrayed by one of his emissaries, who, by a preconcerted

plan with the ephori, (the overseers and counsellors of state, five in

number,) gave them a secret opportunity to hear from the lips of

Pausanias himself the acknowledgment of his treason. To escape arrest,

he fled to the temple of Minerva, and, as the sanctity of the place

forbade intrusion for violence or harm of any kind, the people walled up

the edifice with stones and left him to die of starvation. His own

mother laid the first stone.

It afterward became a custom among the Athenians to wear roses in their

hair whenever they wished to communicate to another a secret which they

wished to be kept inviolate. Hence the saying _sub rosa_ among them,

and, since, among Christian nations.

OVER THE LEFT.

The earliest trace of the use and peculiar significance of this phrase

may be found in the _Records_ of the Hartford County Courts, in the

(then) Colony of Connecticut, as follows:—

At a County Court held at Hartford, }

September 4, 1705. }

Whereas James Steel did commence an action against Bevell Waters (both

of Hartford) in this Court, upon hearing and tryall whereof the Court

gave judgment against the said Waters, (as in justice they think they

ought,) upon the declaring the said judgment, the said Waters did review

to the Court in March next, that, being granted and entered, the said

Waters, as he departed from the table, he said, “_God bless you over the

left shoulder_.”

The Court order a record to be made thereof forthwith.

A true copie: Test.

§Caleb Stanley§, Clerk.

At the next court, Waters was tried for contempt, for saying the words

recited, “so cursing the Court,” and on verdict fined £5. He asked a

review of the Court following, which was granted; and pending trial, the

Court asked counsel of the Rev. Messrs. Woodbridge and Buckingham, the

ministers of the Hartford churches, as to the “common acceptation” of

the offensive phrase. Their reply constitutes a part of the _Record_,

and is as follows:—

We are of opinion that those words, said on the other side to be spoken

by Bevell Waters, include (1) prophaneness, by using the name of God,

that is holy, with such ill words whereto it was joyned; (2) that they

carry great contempt in them, arising to the degree of an imprecation or

curse, the words of a curse being the most contemptible that can

ordinarily be used.

§T. Woodbridge.§

§T. Buckingham.§

March 7th, 1705–6.

The former judgment was affirmed on review.

KICKING THE BUCKET.

The tradition among the slang fraternity as to the origin of this phrase

is that “One Bolsover, having hung himself to a beam while standing on

the bottom of a pail, or bucket, kicked the vessel away in order to pry

into futurity, and it was all UP with him from that moment—_Finis!_”

BUMPER.

When the Roman Catholic religion was in the ascendant in England, the

health of the Pope was usually drunk in a full glass immediately after

dinner—_au bon père_: hence the word “Bumper.”

ROYAL SAYING.

It was Alphonsus, surnamed the Wise, King of Aragon, who used to say,

“That among so many things as are by men possessed or pursued in the

course of their lives, all the rest are baubles, besides old wood to

burn, old wine to drink, old friends to converse with, and old books to

read.”

DUN.

This word, generally supposed to be derived from the French _donnez_,

owes its origin, according to the British Apollo of September, 1708, to

one _Joe Dun_, a famous bailiff of Lincoln in the time of Henry VII. He

is said to have been so extremely shrewd in the management of his rough

business, and so dexterous in the collection of dues, that his name

became proverbial; and whenever a man refused to pay his debts, it grew

into a prevalent custom to say, “Why don’t you §Dun§ him?”

HUMBUG.

Among the many issues of base coin which from time to time were made in

Ireland, there was none to be compared in worthlessness to that made by

James II. at the Dublin Mint. It was composed of any thing on which he

could lay his hands, such as lead, pewter, copper, and brass, and so low

was its intrinsic value that twenty shillings of it was only worth

twopence sterling. William III., a few days after the battle of the

Boyne, ordered that the crown-piece and half-crown should be taken as

one penny and one half-penny respectively. The soft mixed metal of which

that worthless coin was composed was known among the Irish as Uim bog,

pronounced Oom-bug, i.e. soft copper, i.e. worthless money; and in the

course of their dealings the modern use of the word _humbug_ took its

rise, as in the phrases, “That’s a _piece of uimbog_,” “Don’t think to

_pass off your uimbog_ on me.” Hence the word _humbug_ came to be

applied to any thing that had a specious appearance but which was in

reality spurious. It is curious to note that the very opposite of

_humbug_, i.e. false metal, is the word _sterling_, which is also taken

from a term applied to the _true_ coinage of Great Britain, as

_sterling_ coin, _sterling_ worth, &c.

PASQUINADES.

At one corner of the Palazzo Braschi, the last monument of Papal

nepotism, near the Piazza Navona, in Rome, stands the famous mutilated

torso known as the statue of Pasquin. It is the remains of a work of art

of considerable merit, found at this spot, in the sixteenth century, and

supposed to represent Ajax supporting Menelaus. It derives its modern

name from the tailor Pasquin, who kept a shop opposite, which was the

rendezvous of all the gossips in the city, and from which their

satirical witticisms on the manners and follies of the day obtained a

ready circulation.

Misson says in his Travels in Italy,—The tailor had precisely the talent

to head a regiment of satirical wits, and had he had time to publish, he

would have been the Peter Pindar of his day; but his genius seems to

have been satisfied to rest cross-legged on his shop-board. When any

lampoons or amusing _bon-mots_ were current in Rome, they were usually

called, from his shop, _Pasquinades_. After his death, this statue of an

ancient gladiator was found under the pavement of his shop. It was soon

set up, and by universal consent was inscribed with his name; and they

still attempt to raise him from the dead, and keep the caustic tailor

alive, in the marble gladiator of wit.

The statue of Marforio, which stood near the arch of Septimus Severus,

in the Forum, was made the vehicle for replying to the attacks of

Pasquin; and for many years they kept up an incessant fire of wit and

repartee. When Marforio was removed to the museum in the capitol, the

Pope wished to remove Pasquin also; but the Duke di Braschi, to whom he

belongs, would not permit it. Adrian VI. attempted to arrest his career

by ordering the statue to be burnt and thrown into the Tiber; but one of

the Pope’s friends, Ludovico Sussano, saved him, by suggesting that his

ashes would turn into frogs, and croak more terribly than before. It is

said that his owner is compelled to pay a fine whenever he is found

guilty of exhibiting any scandalous placards. The modern Romans seem to

regard Pasquin as part of their social system: in the absence of a free

press, he has become in some measure the organ of public opinion, and

there is scarcely an event upon which he does not pronounce judgment.

Some of his sayings are extremely broad for the atmosphere of Rome, but

many of them are very witty, and fully maintain the character of his

fellow-citizens for satirical epigrams and repartee. When Mezzofanti,

the great linguist, was made a cardinal, Pasquin declared that it was a

very proper appointment, for there could be no doubt that the “Tower of

Babel,” “_Il torre di Babel_” required an interpreter. At the time of

the first French occupation of Italy, Pasquin gave out the following

satirical dialogue:—

I Francesi son tutti ladri.

Non tutti—ma Bonaparte.

The French are all robbers.

Not all, but a _good part_; (or

Not all—but Bonaparte.)

Another remarkable saying is recorded in connection with the celebrated

bull of Urban VIII., excommunicating all persons who took snuff in the

Cathedral of Seville. On the publication of this decree, Pasquin

appropriately quoted the beautiful passage in Job,—“Wilt thou break a

leaf driven to and fro? and wilt thou pursue the dry stubble?”

BOTTLED ALE.

The hop for his profit I thus do exalt;

It strengtheneth drink and it flavoreth malt;

And being well brewed, long kept it will last,

And drawing abide, if ye draw not too fast.

_Tusser_, 1557.

Alexander Newell, Dean of St. Paul’s and Master of Westminster School in

the reign of Queen Mary, was an excellent angler. But, (says Fuller,)

while Newell was catching of fishes, Bishop Bonner was catching of

Newell, and would certainly have sent him to the shambles had not a good

London merchant conveyed him away upon the seas. Newell was fishing upon

the banks of the Thames when he received the first intimation of his

danger, which was so pressing that he dared not go back to his own house

to make any preparation for his flight. Like an honest angler, he had

taken with him provision for the day, and when, in the first year of

England’s deliverance, he returned to his country and his old haunts, he

remembered that on the day of his flight he had left a bottle of beer in

a safe place on the bank: there he looked for it, and “found it no

bottle, but a gun—such the sound at the opening thereof; and this (adds

Fuller,) is believed (casualty is mother of more invention than

industry) the origin of Bottled Ale in England.”

THE POTATO.

Although Sir Walter Raleigh was unexpectedly prevented from accompanying

Sir Humphrey Gilbert to Newfoundland, he eventually proved one of the

greatest benefactors to his own country, by the introduction of the

potato on his return from America, in the year 1584. This root was first

planted on Sir Walter’s estate at Youghall, which he afterward sold to

the Earl of Cork; but not having given sufficient directions to the

person who had the management of the land, the latter mistook the

flowers for the fruit and most valuable part of the plant, and, on

tasting them, rejected them as a pernicious exotic. Some time

afterwards, turning up the earth, he found the roots spread to a great

distance, and in considerable quantities; and from this stock the whole

kingdom was soon after supplied with this valuable plant, which

gradually spread throughout Europe and North America. Its name,

_potato_, in Irish _paitey_, and in French _patate_, is said to be

derived from the original language of Mexico, of which it is supposed to

be a native.

_Anspach’s History of Newfoundland._

TARRING AND FEATHERING.

Anquetil, in his _Histoire de France_, 1805, has the following passage

in reference to this mode of chastisement:—

They (the two crusading kings, Richard Cœur de Lion and Philip Augustus)

afterwards made in concert the laws of police which should be observed

in both their armies. No women, except washerwomen, were to be permitted

to accompany the troops. Whoever killed another was, according to the

place where the crime should be committed, to be cast into the sea, or

buried alive, bound to the corpse of the murdered person. Whoever

wounded another was to have his hand cut off; whoever struck another

should be plunged three times into the sea; and whoever committed theft

should have _warm pitch poured over his head, which should then be

powdered with feathers_, and the offender should afterwards be left

abandoned on the first shore.

STOCKINGS.

It is stated that Henry the Second, of France, was the first who wore

silk stockings, and this was on the occasion of his sister’s wedding to

the Duke of Savoy, in 1509. Howell, in his _History of the World_, says

that, in 1550, Queen Elizabeth was presented with a pair of black silk

knit stockings by her silk-woman, Mrs. Montague, and that she never wore

cloth ones afterward. He also adds, that Henry the Eighth wore

ordinarily cloth hose, unless there came from Spain, by great chance, a

pair of silk stockings. His son, Edward the Sixth, was presented with a

pair of long Spanish silk stockings by Sir Thomas Gresham. Hence it

would seem that knit stockings originally came from Spain. It is stated

that one William Rider, an apprentice on London Bridge, seeing, at the

house of an Italian merchant, a pair of knit stockings, from Mantua,

took the hint, and made a pair exactly like them, which he presented to

the Earl of Pembroke, and that they were the first of that kind worn in

England. There have been various opinions with respect to the original

invention of the stocking-frame; but it is now generally conceded that

it was invented during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, in the year 1589,

by William Lee, M.A., of St. John’s College, Cambridge. In the _London

Magazine_, it is related that Mr. Lee was expelled from the University

for marrying, contrary to the statutes of the college. Being thus

rejected, and ignorant of any other means of subsistence, he was reduced

to the necessity of living upon what his wife could earn by knitting

stockings, which gave a spur to his invention; and, by curiously

observing the working of the needles in knitting, he formed in his mind

the model of the frame. Mr. Lee went to France, and, for want of

patronage there and in England, died of a broken heart, at Paris. In the

hall of Framework Knitters’ Company, incorporated by Charles the Second,

in 1663, is a portrait of Lee, pointing to one of the iron frames, and

discoursing with a woman, who is knitting with needles and her fingers.

THE ORDER OF THE GARTER.

When Salisbury’s famed countess was dancing with glee,

Her stocking’s security fell from her knee.

Allusions and hints, sneers and whispers, went round;

The trifle was scouted, and left on the ground.

When Edward the Brave, with true soldier-like spirit,

Cried, “The garter is mine; ’tis the order of merit:

The first knights in my court shall be happy to wear—

Proud distinction!—the garter that fell from the fair;

While in letters of gold—’tis your monarch’s high will—

Shall there be inscribed, ‘_Ill to him that thinks ill!_’”

DRINKING HEALTHS.

The drinking of healths originated during the Danish occupation of

Britain. The Danes frequently stabbed Englishmen while in the act of

drinking, and it finally became necessary for the English, in view of

the constant repetition of this dastardly mode of assassination, to

enter into a compact to be mutual pledges of security for each other’s

health and preservation. Hence the custom of pledging and drinking

healths.

A FEATHER IN ONE’S CAP.

In the Lansdowne MS., British Museum, is a _Description of Hungary in

1599_, in which the writer says of the inhabitants, “It hath been an

antient custom among them that none should wear a fether but he who had

killed a Turk, to whom onlie y^t was lawful to shew the number of his

slaine enemys by the number of fethers in his cappe.”

THE WORD BOOK.

Before paper came into general use, our Teutonic forefathers wrote their

letters, calendars, and accounts on wood. The _Boc_, or beech, being

close-grained and plentiful in Northern Europe, was generally employed

for the purpose; and hence the word _book_.

NINE TAILORS MAKE A MAN.

The following humorous account of the origin of this saying is from _The

British Apollo_. “It happened (’tis no great matter in what year) that

eight tailors, having finished considerable pieces of work at the house

of a certain person of quality, (whose name authors have thought fit to

conceal,) and received all the money due for the same, a virago

servant-maid of the house, observing them to be but slender-built

animals, and in their mathematical postures on their shop-board

appearing but so many pieces of men, resolved to encounter and pillage

them on the road. The better to compass her design, she procured a very

terrible great black pudding, which, having waylaid them, she presented

at the breast of the foremost. They, mistaking this prop of life for an

instrument of death, at least a blunderbuss, readily yielded up their

money; but she, not contented with that, severely disciplined them with

a cudgel she carried in the other hand, all which they bore with a

philosophical resignation. Thus, eight, not being able to deal with one

woman, by consequence could not make a man; on which account a ninth is

added. ’Tis the opinion of our curious virtuosos, that their want of

courage ariseth from their immoderate eating of cucumbers, which too

much refrigerates their blood. However, to their eternal honor be it

spoken, they have often been known to encounter a sort of cannibals, to

whose assaults they are often subject, not fictitious, but real

man-eaters, and that with a lance but two inches long; nay, and although

they go armed no further than their middle finger.”

An earlier authority than the preceding may be found in a note in

_Democritus in London, with the Mad Pranks and Comical Conceits of

Motley and Robin Goodfellow_, in which the following version of the

origin of the saying is given. It is dated 1682:—

There is a proverb which has been of old,

And many men have likewise been so told,

To the discredit of the Taylor’s Trade:

_Nine Taylors go to make up a man_, they said;

But for their credit I’ll unriddle it t’ ye:

A draper once fell into povertie,

Nine Taylors joined their purses together then,

To set him up, and make him a man again.

VIZ.

The contraction _viz._ affords a curious instance of the universality of

arbitrary signs. There are few people now who do not readily comprehend

the meaning of that useful particle,—a certain publican excepted, who,

being furnished with a list of the requirements of a festival in which

the word appeared, apologized for the omission of one of the items

enumerated: he informed the company that he had inquired throughout the

town for some viz., but he had not been able to procure it. He was,

however, readily excused for his inability to do so. Viȝ. being a

contraction of _videlicet_, the terminal sign ȝ was never intended to

represent the letter “z,” but was simply a mark or sign of abbreviation.

It is now always written and expressed as a “z” and will doubtless

continue to be so.

SIGNATURE OF THE CROSS.

The mark which persons who are unable to write are required to make

instead of their signatures, is in the form of a cross; and this

practice, having formerly been followed by kings and nobles, is

constantly referred to as an instance of the deplorable ignorance of

ancient times. This signature is not, however, invariably a proof of

such ignorance. Anciently the use of the mark was not confined to

illiterate persons; for among the Saxons the mark of the cross, as an

attestation of the good faith of the persons signing, was required to be

attached to the signature of those who _could_ write, as well as to

stand in the place of the signature of those who could not write. In

those times, if a man could write, or even read, his knowledge was

considered proof presumptive that he was in holy orders. The clericus,

or clerk, was synonymous with penman; and the laity, or people who were

not clerks, did not feel any urgent necessity for the use of letters.

The ancient use of the cross was therefore universal, alike by those who

could and those who could not write: it was, indeed, the symbol of an

oath, from its sacred associations, as well as _the mark_ generally

adopted. Hence the origin of the expression “God save the mark,” as a

form of ejaculation approaching the character of an oath.

THE TURKISH CRESCENT.

When Philip of Macedon approached by night with his troops to scale the

walls of Byzantium, the _moon_ shone out and discovered his design to

the besieged, who repulsed him. The crescent was afterwards adopted as

the favorite badge of the city. When the Turks took Byzantium, they

found the crescent in every public place, and, believing it to possess

some magical power, adopted it themselves.

The origin of the crescent as a religious emblem is anterior to the time

of Philip of Macedon, dating, in fact, from the very beginning of

history.

POSTPAID ENVELOPES.

M. Piron tells us that the idea of a postpaid envelope originated early

in the reign of Louis XIV., with M. de Valfyer, who, in 1653,

established (with royal approbation) a private penny-post, placing boxes

at the corners of the streets for the reception of letters wrapped up in

envelopes, which were to be bought at offices established for that

purpose. M. de Valfyer also had printed certain _forms_ of _billets_, or

notes, applicable to the ordinary business among the inhabitants of

great towns, with blanks, which were to be filled up by the pen with

such special matter as might complete the writer’s object. One of these

_billets_ has been preserved to our times by a pleasant misapplication

of it. Pélisson (Mdme. de Sévigné’s friend, and the object of the _bon

mot_ that “he abused the privilege which men have of being ugly”) was

amused at this kind of skeleton correspondence; and under the affected

name of _Pisandre_, (according to the pedantic fashion of the day,) he

filled up and addressed one of these forms to the celebrated

Mademoiselle de Scuderie, in her _pseudonyme_ of _Sappho_. This strange

_billet-doux_ has happened, from the celebrity of the parties, to be

preserved, and it is still extant,—one of the oldest, it is presumed, of

penny-post letters, and a curious example of a _pre_paying envelope, a

new proof of the adage that “there is nothing new under the sun.”

OLD HUNDRED.

The history of this old psalm-tune, which almost every one has been

accustomed to hear ever since he can remember, is the subject of a work

recently written by an English clergyman. Luther has generally been

considered the author of “Old Hundred,” but it has been pretty

satisfactorily ascertained that it was composed in the sixteenth

century, and certainly previous to 1546, by William Franc, a German. In

the course of time its arrangement has undergone repeated alterations;

and it is said that, as it originally appeared, it was of a more lively

character than at present. Many of these alterations have been carefully

preserved and may be seen by reference to Moore’s _Encyclopædia of

Music_. The oldest copy of it that has been preserved was published in

France, in Marot and Beza’s Psalms, 1550. Subjoined is a faithful

transcript of its original adaptation to the 134th Psalm. It contrasts

as broadly with the present style of musical notation as does the

English of Chaucer with that of Noah Webster.

[Illustration:

Or sus serviteurs du Seigneur, Vous qui de nuit en son honneur]

De-dans sa maison le servez, Louez-le, et son Nom elevez.

]

LA MARSEILLAISE.

Rouget de Lisle was a young officer of engineers at Strasbourg. He was

born at _Lons-le-Saulnier_, in the _Jura_ a country of reverie and

energy, as mountains commonly are. He relieved the tediousness of a

garrison-life by writing verses and indulging a love of music. He was a

frequent visitor at the house of the Baron de Diedrich, a noble Alsacian

of the constitutional party, the Mayor of Strasbourg. The family loved

the young officer, and gave new inspiration to his heart in its

attachment to music and poetry, and the ladies were in the habit of

assisting, by their performances, the early conceptions of his genius. A

famine prevailed at Strasbourg in the winter of 1792. The house of

Diedrich was rich at the beginning of the revolution, but had now become

poor under the calamities and sacrifices of the time. Its frugal table

had always a hospitable place for Rouget de Lisle. He was there morning

and evening as a son and brother. One day, when only some slices of ham

smoked upon the table, with a supply of camp-bread, Diedrich said to De

Lisle, in sad serenity, “Plenty is not found at our meals. But no

matter: enthusiasm is not wanting at our civic festivals, and our

soldiers’ hearts are full of courage. We have one more bottle of Rhine

wine in the cellar. Let us have it, and we’ll drink to liberty and the

country. Strasbourg will soon have a patriotic _fête_, and De Lisle must

draw from these last drops one of his hymns that will carry his own

ardent feelings to the soul of the people.” The young ladies applauded

the proposal. They brought the wine, and continued to fill the glasses

of Diedrich and the young officer until the bottle was empty. The night

was cold. De Lisle’s head and heart were warm. He found his way to his

lodgings, entered his solitary chamber, and sought for inspiration at

one moment in the palpitations of his citizen’s heart, and at another by

touching, as an artist, the keys of his instrument, and striking out

alternately portions of an air and giving utterance to poetic thoughts.

He did not himself know which came first; it was impossible for him to

separate the poetry from the music, or the sentiment from the words in

which it was clothed. He sang altogether, and wrote nothing. In this

state of lofty inspiration, he went to sleep with his head upon the

instrument. The chants of the night came upon him in the morning like

the faint impressions of a dream. He wrote down the words, made the

notes of the music, and ran to Diedrich’s. He found him in the garden

digging winter lettuces. The wife of the patriot mayor was not yet up.

Diedrich awoke her. They called together some friends, who were, like

themselves, passionately fond of music, and able to execute the

compositions of De Lisle. One of the young ladies played, and Rouget

sang. At the first Stanza, the countenances of the company grew pale; at

the second, tears flowed abundantly; at the last, a delirium of

enthusiasm broke forth. Diedrich, his wife, and the young officer cast

themselves into each others’ arms. The hymn of the nation was found.

Alas! it was destined to become a hymn of terror. The unhappy Diedrich a

few months afterwards marched to the scaffold at the sound of the notes

first uttered at his hearth, from the heart of his friend and the voice

of his wife.

The new song, executed some days afterwards publicly at Strasbourg, flew

from town to town through all the orchestras. Marseilles adopted it to

be sung at the opening and adjournment of the clubs. Hence it took the

name of the _Marseillaise Hymn_. The old mother of De Lisle, a loyalist

and a religious person, alarmed at the reverberation of her son’s name,

wrote to him, “What is the meaning of this revolutionary hymn, sung by

hordes of robbers who pass all over France, with which our name is mixed

up?” De Lisle himself, proscribed as a Federalist, heard its re-echo

upon his ears as a threat of death as he fled among the paths of Jura.

“What is this song called?” he inquired of his guide. “The

_Marseillaise_,” replied the peasant. It was with difficulty that he

escaped.

The “Marseillaise” was the liquid fire of the revolution. It distilled

into the senses and the soul of the people the frenzy of battle. Its

notes floated like an ensign, dipped in warm blood over a field of

combat. Glory and crime, victory and death, seemed interwoven in its

strains. It was the song of patriotism; but it was the signal of fury.

It accompanied warriors to the field and victims to the scaffold!

There is no national air that will compare with the Marseillaise in

sublimity and power: it embraces the soft cadences full of the peasant’s

home, and the stormy clangor of silver and steel when an empire is

overthrown; it endears the memory of the vine-dresser’s cottage, and

makes the Frenchman, in his exile, cry, “La belle France!” forgetful of

the sword, and torch, and guillotine, which have made his country a

spectre of blood in the eyes of nations. Nor can the foreigner listen to

it, sung by a company of exiles, or executed by a band of musicians,

without feeling that it is the pibroch of battle and war.

YANKEE DOODLE.

The good the Rhine-song does to German hearts,

Or thine, Marseilles! to France’s fiery blood;

The good thy anthemed harmony imparts,

“God save the Queen!” to England’s field and flood,

A home-born blessing, Nature’s boon, not Art’s,

The same heart-cheering, spirit-warming good,

To us and ours, where’er we war or woo,

Thy words and music, §Yankee Doodle§!—do.—§Halleck.§

The origin of _Yankee Doodle_ is by no means so clear as American

antiquaries desire. The statement that the air was composed by Dr.

Shackburg, in 1755, when the colonial troops united with the British

regulars near Albany, preparatory to the attack on the French posts of

Niagara and Frontenac, and that it was produced in derision of the

old-fashioned equipments of the provincial soldiers as contrasted with

the neat and orderly appointments of the regulars, was published some

years ago in a musical magazine printed in Boston. The account there

given as to the origin of the song is this:—During the attacks upon the

French outposts in 1755, in America, Governor Shirley and General

Jackson led the force directed against the enemy lying at Niagara and

Frontenac. In the early part of June, whilst these troops were stationed

on the banks of the Hudson, near Albany, the descendants of the “Pilgrim

fathers” flocked in from the Eastern provinces. Never was seen such a

motley regiment as took up its position on the left wing of the British

army. The band played music as antiquated and _outré_ as their

_uniforms_; officers and privates had adopted regimentals each man after

his own fashion; one wore a flowing wig, while his neighbor rejoiced in

hair cropped closely to the head; this one had a coat with wonderful

long skirts, his fellow marched without his upper garment; various as

the colors of the rainbow were the clothes worn by the gallant band. It

so happened that there was a certain Dr. Shackburg, wit, musician, and

surgeon, and one evening after mess he produced a tune, which he

earnestly commended, as a well-known piece of military music, to the

officers of the militia. The joke succeeded, and Yankee Doodle was

hailed by acclamation “their own march.”

This account is somewhat apocryphal, as there is no song: the tune in

the United States is a march; there are no words to it of a national

character. The only words ever affixed to the air in this country is the

following doggerel quatrain:—

Yankee Doodle came to town

Upon a little pony;

He stuck a feather in his hat

And called it macaroni.

It has been asserted by English writers that the air and words of these

lines are as old as Cromwell’s time. The only alteration is in making

_Yankee Doodle_ of what was _Nankee Doodle_. It is asserted that the

tune will be found in the _Musical Antiquities of England_, and that

_Nankee Doodle_ was intended to apply to Cromwell, and the other lines

were designed to “allude to his going into Oxford with a single plume,

fastened in a knot called a macaroni.” The tune was known in New England

before the Revolution as _Lydia Fisher’s Jig_, a name derived from a

famous lady of easy virtue in the reign of Charles II., and which has

been perpetuated in the following nursery-rhyme:—

Lucy Locket lost her pocket,

Kitty Fisher found it;

Not a bit of money in it,

Only binding round it.

The regulars in Boston in 1775 and 1776 are said to have sung verses to

the same air:—

Yankee Doodle came to town,

For to buy a firelock;

We will tar and feather him,

And so we will John Hancock, &c.

The manner in which the tune came to be adopted by the Americans, is

shown in the following letter of the Rev. W. Gordon. Describing the

battles of Lexington and Concord, before alluded to, he says:—

The brigade under Lord Percy marched out (of Boston) playing, by way of

contempt, _Yankee Doodle_: they were afterwards told that they had been

made to dance to it.

It is most likely that Yankee Doodle was originally derived from

Holland. A song with the following burden has long been in use among the

laborers who, in the time of harvest, migrate from Germany to the Low

Countries, where they receive for their work as much buttermilk as they

can drink, and a tenth of the grain secured by their exertions:—

Yanker didel, doodel down,

Didel, dudel lauter,

Yanke viver, voover vown,

Botermilk und Tanther.

That is, buttermilk and a tenth.

THE AMERICAN FLAG.

A resolution was introduced in the American Congress, June 13, 1777,

“That the flag of the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes,

alternately red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a

blue field, representing a new constellation.” There is a striking

coincidence between the design of our flag and the arms of General

Washington, which consisted of three stars in the upper portion, and

three bars running across the escutcheon. It is thought by some that the

flag was derived from this heraldic design. History informs us that

several flags were used by the Yankees before the present national one

was adopted. In March, 1775, a Union flag with a red field was hoisted

in New York, bearing the inscription on one side of “George Rex and the

liberties of America,” and upon the reverse, “No Popery.” General Israel

Putnam raised on Prospect Hill, July 18, 1775, a flag bearing on one

side the motto of the commonwealth of Massachusetts, “_Qui transtulit

sustinet_,” on the other, “An appeal to Heaven,”—an appeal well taken

and amply sustained. In October, 1775, the floating batteries of Boston

bore a flag with the latter motto, and a pine-tree upon a white field,

with the Massachusetts emblem. Some of the colonies used in 1775 a flag

with a rattlesnake coiled as if about to strike, and the motto “Don’t

tread on me.” On January 18, 1776, the grand Union flag of the stars and

stripes was raised on the heights near Boston; and it is said that some

of the regulars made the great mistake of supposing it was a token of

submission to the king, whose speech had just been sent to the

Americans. The _British Register_ of 1776 says, “They [the rebels] burnt

the king’s speech, and changed their colors from a plain red ground to a

flag with thirteen stripes, as a symbol of the number and union of the

colonies.” A letter from Boston, published in the _Pennsylvania

Gazette_, in 1776, says, “The Union flag was raised on the 2d, a

compliment to the United Colonies.” These various flags, the Pine-Tree,

the Rattlesnake, and the Stripes, were used, according to the tastes of

the patriots, until July, 1777, when the blue union of the stars was

added to the stripes, and the flag established by law. At first a stripe

was added for each new State; but the flag became too large, and

Congress reduced the stripes to the original thirteen, and now the stars

are made to correspond in number with the States. No one, who lives

under the protection of the Stars and Stripes, will deny that “the

American flag is one of the most beautiful that floats upon any land or

sea.” Its proportions are perfect when it is properly made,—one-half as

broad as it is long. The first stripe at the top is red, the next white,

and these colors alternate, making the last stripe red. The blue field

for the stars is the width and square of the first seven stripes, viz.,

four red and three white. The colors of the American flag are in

beautiful relief, and it is altogether a splendid national emblem. Long

may it wave untarnished!

BROTHER JONATHAN.

The origin of this term, as applied to the United States, is as follows.

When General Washington, after being appointed commander of the army of

the Revolutionary War, went to Massachusetts to organize it, he found a

great want of ammunition and other means of defence; and on one occasion

it seemed that no means could be devised for the necessary safety.

Jonathan Trumbull, the elder, was then Governor of the State of

Connecticut; and the general, placing the greatest reliance on his

excellency’s judgment, remarked, “We must consult Brother Jonathan on

the subject.” The general did so, and the governor was successful in

supplying many of the wants of the army; and thenceforward, when

difficulties arose, and the army was spread over the country, it became

a by-phrase, “We must consult Brother Jonathan;” and the name has now

become a designation for the whole country, as John Bull has for

England.

UNCLE SAM.

Immediately after the declaration of war with England, in 1812, Elbert

Anderson, of New York, then a contractor, visited Troy, where he

purchased a large quantity of provisions. The inspectors of the articles

at that place were Ebenezer and Samuel Wilson. The latter gentleman

(universally known as “Uncle Sam”) generally superintended in person a

large number of workmen, who, on this occasion, were employed in

overhauling the provisions purchased by the contractor. The casks were

marked “E. A.—U. S.” Their inspection fell to the lot of a facetious

fellow, who, on being asked the meaning of the mark, said he did not

know, unless it meant _Elbert Anderson_ and _Uncle Sam_, alluding to

_Uncle Sam Wilson_. The joke took among the workmen, and passed

currently; and “Uncle Sam,” when present, was often rallied by them on

the increasing extent of his possessions.

THE DOLLAR MARK, $.

Writers are not agreed as to the derivation of this sign to represent

dollars. Some say that it comes from the letters U. S., which, after the

adoption of the Federal Constitution, were prefixed to the Federal

currency, and which afterwards, in the hurry of writing, were run into

one another, the U being made first and the S over it. Others say that

it is derived from the contraction of the Spanish word _pesos_, dollars;

others, from the Spanish _fuertes_, hard,—to distinguish silver from

paper money. The more plausible explanation is, that it is a

modification of the figure 8, and denotes a piece of eight reals, or, as

the dollar was formerly called, a _piece of eight_. It was then

designated by the figures 8/8.

ORIGIN OF VARIOUS INVENTIONS AND CUSTOMS.

The Saxons first introduced archery in the time of Vortigern. It was

dropped immediately after the conquest, but was revived by the

Crusaders, they having felt the effects of it in their combats with the

Saracens, who probably derived it from the Parthians. The Normans

brought with them the cross-bow, but after the time of Edward II. its

use was supplanted by that of the long-bow, which became the favorite

national weapon. Bows and arrows, as weapons of war, were in use with

stone cannonballs as late as 1640. All the statutes for the

encouragement of archery were framed after the invention of gunpowder

and firearms, the object being to prevent this ancient weapon becoming

obsolete. Yew-trees were encouraged in churchyards, for the making of

bows, in 1642. Hence their generality in churchyards in England.

Coats of arms, or armorial bearings, came into vogue in the reign of

Richard I. of England, and became hereditary in families about the year

1192. They took their rise from the knights painting their banners with

different figures to distinguish them in the Crusades.

The first standing army of modern times was established by Charles VII.

of France, in 1445. Previous to that time the king had depended upon his

nobles for contingents in time of war. A standing army was first

established in England in 1638, by Charles I., but it was declared

illegal, as well as the organization of the royal guards, in 1769. The

first permanent military band instituted in England was the yeomen of

the guards, established in 1486.

Guns were invented by Swartz, a German, about 1378, and brought into use

by the Venetians, in 1382. Cannon were invented at an anterior date: at

Amberg may still be seen a piece of ordnance inscribed 1303. They were

first used at the battle of Cressy in 1346. In England, they were first

used at the siege of Berwick, in 1405. It was not until 1544, however,

that they were cast in England. They were employed on shipboard by the

Venetians in 1539, and were in use among the Turks about the same time.

An artillery company was instituted in England for weekly military

exercises in 1610.

Dating from the Christian Era was commenced in Italy in 525, and in

England in 816.

Pliny gives the origin of glass-making thus. As some merchants were

carrying nitre, they stopped near a river issuing from Mount Carmel. Not

readily finding stones to rest their kettles on, they used some pieces

of nitre for that purpose: the fire gradually dissolving the nitre, it

mixed with the sand, and a transparent matter flowed, which, in fact,

was glass.

Insurance of ships was first practised in the reign of Cæsar, in 45. It

was a general custom in Europe in 1494. Insurance-offices were first

established in London in 1667.

Astronomy was first studied by the Moors, and was introduced by them

into Europe in 1201. The rapid progress of modern astronomy dates from

the time of Copernicus. Books of astronomy and geometry were destroyed,

as infected with magic, in England, under the reign of Edward VI., in

1552.

Banks were first established by the Lombard Jews, in Italy. The name is

derived from _banco_, a term applied to the benches erected in the

market-places for the exchanges of money, &c. The first public bank was

at Venice, in 1550. The Bank of England was established in 1693. In 1696

its notes were at twenty per cent. discount.

The invention of bells is attributed to Paulinus, Bishop of Nola, in

Campania, about the year 400. They were originally introduced into

churches as a defence against thunder and lightning. They were first

hung up in England, at Croyland Abbey, Lincolnshire, in 945. In the

eleventh century and later, it was the custom to baptize them in

churches before they were used. The curfew-bell was established in 1068.

It was rung at eight o’clock in the evening, when people were obliged to

put out their fire and candle. The custom was abolished in 1100. Chimes,

or musical bells, were invented at Alost, in Belgium, 1487. Bellmen were

appointed in London, in 1556, to ring the bells at night, and cry, “Take

care of your fire and candle, be charitable to the poor, and pray for

the dead.”

How many are aware of the origin of the word “boo!” used to frighten

children? It is a corruption of Boh, the name of a fierce Gothic

general, the son of Odin, the mention of whose name spread a panic among

his enemies.

Book-keeping was first introduced into England from Italy by Peele, in

1569. It was derived from a system of algebra published by Burgo, at

Venice.

Notaries public were first appointed by the Fathers of the Christian

Church to make a collection of the acts or memoirs of martyrs in the

first century.

The administration of the oath in civil cases is of high antiquity. See

Exodus xxii. 11. Swearing on the Gospels was first used in 528. The oath

was first administered in judicial proceedings in England by the Saxons,

in 600. The words “So help me God, and all saints,” concluded an oath,

till 1550.

Signals to be used at sea were first contrived by James II., when he was

Duke of York, in 1665. They were afterwards improved by the French

commander Tourville, and by Admiral Balchen.

Raw silk is said to have first been made by a people of China called

Ceres, 150 §B. C.§ It was first brought from India, in 274, and a pound

of it at that time was worth a pound of gold. The manufacture of raw

silk was introduced into Europe from India by some monks in 550. Silk

dresses were first worn in 1455. The eggs of the silk-worm were first

brought into Europe in 527.

Paulus Jovius was the first person who introduced mottoes; Dorat, the

first who brought anagrams into fashion. Rabelais was the first who

wrote satires in French prose; Etienne Jodelle, the first who introduced

tragedies into France. The Cardinal of Ferrara, Archbishop of Lyons, was

the first who had a tragicomedy performed on the stage of Italian

comedians. The first sonnet that appeared in French is attributed to

Jodelle.

Guido Aretino, a Benedictine monk of Arezzo, Tuscany, in 1204 designated

the notes used in the musical scale by syllables derived from the

following verses of a Latin hymn dedicated to St. John:—

UT queant laxis REsonare fibris,

MIra gestorum FAmuli tuorum,

SOLve pollutis LAbii reatum.

_O Pater Alme._

By this means he converted the old tetrachord into hexachords. He also

invented lines and spaces in musical notation.

The invention of clocks is by some ascribed to Pacificus, Archdeacon of

Verona, in the ninth century; and by others, to Boethius, in the early

part of the sixth. The Saracens are supposed to have had clocks which

were moved by weights, as early as the eleventh century; and, as the

term is applied by Dante to a machine which struck the hours, clocks

must have been known in Italy about the end of the thirteenth or

beginning of the fourteenth century. The most ancient clock of which we

have any certain account was erected in a tower of the palace of Charles

V., King of France, in 1364, by Henry de Wyck or de Vick, a German

artist. A clock was erected at Strasbourg in 1370, at Courtray about the

same period, and at Speyer in 1395.

Watches are said to have been made at Nuremberg as early as 1477; but it

is uncertain how far the watches then constructed resembled those now in

use. Some of the early ones were very small, in the shape of a pear, and

sometimes fitted into the top of a walking-stick. As time-keepers,

watches could have had very little value before the application of the

spiral spring as a regulator to the balance. This was invented by Hooke,

in 1658.

The use of the pendulum was suggested by a circumstance similar to that

which started in Newton’s mind the train of thought that led to the

theory of gravitation. Galileo, when under twenty years of age, standing

one day in the metropolitan church of Pisa, observed a lamp, which was

suspended from the ceiling, and which had been disturbed by accident,

swing backwards and forwards. This was a thing so common that thousands,

no doubt, had observed it before; but Galileo, struck with the

regularity with which it moved backwards and forwards, reflected upon

it, and perfected the method now in use of measuring time by means of a

pendulum.

A monk named Rivalto mentions, in a sermon preached in Florence in 1305,

that spectacles had then been known about twenty years. This would place

the invention about the year 1285.

Quills are supposed to have been used for writing-pens in the fifth

century, though the conjecture rests mainly on an anecdote of Theodoric,

King of the Ostrogoths, who, being so illiterate that he could not write

even the initials of his own name, was provided with a plate of gold

through which the letters were cut, and, this being placed on the paper

when his signature was required, he traced the letters with a quill. The

date of the earliest certain account of the modern writing-pen is 636.

The next notice occurs in the latter part of the same century, in a

Latin sonnet to a pen by Aldhelm, a Saxon author. The reeds formerly

employed are still used in some Eastern nations. Steel pens were first

made by Wise, in England, in 1803.

The first known treatise on stenography is the curious and scarce little

work entitled “Arte of Shorte, Swifte, and Secrete Writing by Character,

invented by Timothe Bright, Doctor of Phisike.”

The art of printing, according to Du Halde and the missionaries, was

practised in China nearly fifty years before the Christian Era. In the

time of Confucius, §B.C.§ 500, books were formed of slips of bamboo; and

about 150 years after Christ, paper was first made; §A.D.§ 745, books

were bound into leaves; §A.D.§ 900, printing was in general use. The

process of printing is simple. The materials consist of a graver, blocks

of wood, and a brush, which the printers carry with them from place to

place. Without wheel, or wedge, or screw, a printer will throw off more

than two thousand five hundred impressions in one day. The paper (thin)

can be bought for one-fourth the price in China that it can in any other

country. The works of Confucius, six volumes, four hundred leaves,

octavo, can be bought for twelve cents.

Stamps for marking wares, packages, &c. were in use among the Roman

tradesmen; and it is highly probable that had the modern art of making

paper been known to the ancients, they would have diffused among

themselves, and transmitted to posterity, printed books.

From the early commercial intercourse of the Venetians with China, there

is reason to believe that the knowledge of the art and of its

application to the multiplying of books was derived from thence; for

Venice is the first place in Europe, of which we have any account, in

which it was practised, a Government decree respecting it having been

issued October 11, 1441. Previous to the year 1450, all printing had

been executed by means of engraved blocks of wood; but about this

period, the great and accumulating expense of engraving blocks for each

separate work led to the substitution of movable metal types. The credit

of this great improvement is given to Peter Schœffer, the assistant and

son-in-law of John Faust, of Mentz, (commonly called Dr. Faustus.) The

first book printed with the cast metal types was the “Mentz Bible,”

which was executed by Faust and Guttemberg, between the years 1450 and

1455.

The Dutch claim to have originated stereotyping. They have, as they say,

a prayer-book stereotyped in 1701. The first attempt at stereotyping in

America was made in 1775, by Benjamin Mecom, a printer of Philadelphia.

He cast plates for a number of pages of the New Testament, but never

completed them.

The first printing-press in America was established at Cambridge, Mass.,

in 1639.

COCK-FIGHTING.

Themistocles, marching against the Persians, beheld two gamecocks in the

heat of battle, and thereupon pointed out to his Athenian soldiery their

indomitable courage. The Athenians were victorious; and Themistocles

gave order that an annual cock-fight should be held in commemoration of

the encounter they had witnessed. No record of this sport occurs in

England before the year 1191.

TURNCOAT.

The opprobious epithet, _turncoat_, took its rise from one of the first

dukes of Savoy, whose dominions lying open to the incursions of the two

contending houses of Spain and France, he was obliged to temporize and

fall in with that power that was most likely to distress him, according

to the success of their arms against one another. So being frequently

obliged to change sides, he humorously got a coat made that was _blue_

on one side, and _white_ on the other, and might be indifferently worn

either side out. While in the _Spanish_ interest, he wore the _blue_

side out, and the _white_ side was the badge for the _French_. Hence he

was called Emmanuel, surnamed the _Turncoat_, by way of distinguishing

him from other princes of the same name of that house.

INDIA-RUBBER.

Caoutchouc was long known before its most valuable qualities were

appreciated. One of the earliest notices of its practical use occurs in

Dr. Priestly’s _Theory and Practice of Perspective_, printed in 1770. “I

have seen” says he, “a substance excellently adapted to the purpose of

wiping from paper the marks of a black lead-pencil. It must, therefore,

be of singular use to those who practice drawing. It is sold by Mr.

Nairne, mathematical instrument-maker, opposite the Royal Exchange. He

sells a cubical piece, of about half an inch, for three shillings; and,

he says, it will last several years.”

FRICTION MATCHES.

In 1836 the subject of friction matches attracted the attention of Mr.

L. C. Allin, of Springfield, Massachusetts. At that time a clumsy

phosphoric match, imported from France, had come into limited use in the

United States. It was made by dipping the match-stick first into

sulphur, and then into a paste composed of chloride of potash, red lead,

and loaf sugar. Each box of matches was accompanied by a bottle of

sulphuric acid, into which every match had to be dipped in order to

light it. To abolish this inconvenience, and make a match which would

light from the friction caused by any rough surface, was the task to

which young Allin applied himself. He succeeded, but took out no patent.

On being urged to do so, he found that a patent had already been

obtained by one Phillips of Chicopee, a peddler, who had probably picked

up through a third party the result of Mr. Allin’s study. Mr. Allin’s

legal adviser thought that he (Allin) would do better to have the right

to manufacture under Phillips’ patent (which Phillips gave him without

charge, in consideration of the waiving of his claim,) than to bear the

expense of the litigation which was feared to be necessary to establish

his claim. So the inventor of friction matches became simply a

manufacturer under another man’s patent.

THE FLAG OF ENGLAND.

On the 12th of April, 1606, the Union Jack—that famous ensign—first made

its appearance. From Rymer’s _Fœdera_, and the Scottish Annals of Sir

James Balfour, we learn that some differences having arisen between

ships of the two countries at sea, the king ordained that a new flag be

adopted with the crosses of St. Andrew and St. George interlaced, by

placing the latter fimbriated on the blue flag of Scotland as the ground

thereof. This flag all ships were to carry at their main top; but

English ships were to display St. George’s red cross at their stern, and

the Scottish the white saltire of St. Andrew.

BLUE-STOCKING.

It was the fashion in London, in 1781, for ladies to have evening

assemblies, where they might participate in conversation with literary

men. These societies acquired the name of _Blue-Stocking_ Clubs,—an

appellation which has been applied to pedantic females ever since. It

arose from the custom of Mr. Stillingfleet, one of the most eminent

members, wearing blue stockings. Such was the excellence of his

conversation, and his absence was so great a loss, that it used to be

said, “We can do nothing without the Blue Stockings;” and thus the title

was gradually established. In Hannah More’s poem, _Bas bleu_, many of

the most conspicuous members are mentioned.

SKEDADDLE.

This word may be easily traced to a Greek origin. The verb σκεδαννυμι,

of which the root is σκεδα, is used freely by Thucydides, Herodotus, and

other Greek writers, in describing the dispersion of a routed army. From

the root σκεδα the word skedaddle is formed by simply adding the

euphonious termination _dle_ and doubling the _d_, as required by the

analogy of our language in such words. In many words of undoubted Greek

extraction much greater changes are made.

The Swedes have a similar word, _skuddadahl_, and the Danes another,

_skyededehl_, both of which have the same signification.

An old version of the Irish New Testament contains the passage, “For it

is written, I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall

be _sgedad ol_.” This compound Irish word _sgedad ol_ (all scattered or

utterly routed) was probably used by some Irishman at Bull Run, and,

being regarded as felicitous, was at once adopted.

FOOLSCAP PAPER.

The term of “foolscap,” to designate a certain size of paper, no doubt

has puzzled many an anxious inquirer. It appears that Charles I., of

England, granted numerous monopolies for the support of the Government,

among others the manufacture of paper. The water-mark of the finest sort

was the royal arms of England. The consumption of this article was

great, and large fortunes were made by those who purchased the exclusive

right to vend it. This, among other monopolies, was set aside by the

Parliament that brought Charles I. to the scaffold; and, by way of

showing contempt for the King, they ordered the royal arms to be taken

from the paper, and a fool with his cap and bells to be substituted. It

is now over two hundred years since the fool’s cap was taken from the

paper, but still the paper of the size which the Rump Parliament ordered

for their journals bears the name of the water-mark placed there as an

indignity to King Charles.

THE FIRST FORGED BANK-NOTE.

Sixty-four years after the establishment of the Bank of England, the

first forged note was presented for payment, and to Richard William

Vaughn, a Stafford linen-draper, belongs the melancholy celebrity of

having led the van in this new phase of crime, in the year 1758. The

records of his life do not show want, beggary or starvation urging him,

but a simple desire to seem greater than he was. By one of the artists

employed (and there were several engaged on different parts of the

notes) the discovery was made. The criminal had filled up to the number

of twenty and deposited them in the hands of a young lady to whom he was

attached, as a proof of his wealth. There is no calculating how much

longer bank-notes might have been free from imitation had this man not

shown with what ease they could be counterfeited. From this period

forged notes became common. His execution did not deter others from the

offence, and many a neck was forfeited to the halter before the late

abolition of capital punishment for that crime.

THE FIRST PIANO-FORTE.

A play-bill of the Covent Garden Theatre, dated May 16, 1767, after

setting forth the performance of _The Beggar’s Opera_, contains the

following notification:—“End of Act First, Miss Brickler will sing a

favorite song from _Judith_, accompanied by Mr. Dibdin on a new

instrument called Piano-Forte.” The first manufacturer is believed to be

a German named Backers, as there is still in existence the name-board of

a piano inscribed “Americus Backers, _Factor et Inventor_, Jermyn

Street, London, 1776.”

THE FIRST DOCTORS.

The title of §Doctor§ was invented in the twelfth century, at the first

establishment of the universities. The first person upon whom it was

conferred was §Irnerius§, a learned Professor of _Law_, at the

University of Bologna. He induced the Emperor Lothaire II., whose

Chancellor he was, to create the title; and he himself was the first

recipient of it. He was made Doctor of Laws by that university.

Subsequently the title was borrowed by the faculty of Theology, and

first conferred by the University of Paris on §Peter Lombard§, the

celebrated scholastic theologian. §William Gordenio§ was the first

person upon whom the title of Doctor of Medicine was bestowed. He

received it from the college at Asti, in 1329.

THE FIRST THANKSGIVING PROCLAMATION.

The first proclamation of Thanksgiving Day that is to be found in a

printed form is the one issued by his Excellency §Francis Bernard§,

Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief in and over His Majesty’s province

of the Massachusetts Bay, in New England, and Vice-Admiral of the same,

in 1767. It is as follows:—

§A Proclamation for a Public Thanksgiving.§

As the Business of the Year is now drawing towards a Conclusion, we are

reminded, according to the laudable Usage of this Province, to join

together in a grateful Acknowledgement of the manifold Mercies of the

Divine Providence conferred upon Us in the passing Year: Wherefore, I

have thought fit to appoint, and I do with the advice of His Majesty’s

Council appoint, Thursday, the Third Day of _December_ next, to be a day

of public Thanksgiving, that we may thereupon with one Heart and Voice

return our most humble Thanks to Almighty God for the gracious

Dispensations of His Providence since the last religious Anniversary of

this kind: and especially for—that he has been pleased to preserve and

maintain our most gracious Sovereign King §George§ in Health and Wealth,

in Peace and Honour; and to extend the Blessings of his Government to

the remotest Part of his Dominions;—that He hath been pleased to bless

and preserve our gracious §Queen Charlotte§, their Royal Highnesses the

Prince of §Wales§, the Princess Dowager of §Wales§, and all the Royal

family, and by the frequent Encrease of the Royal Issue to assure to us

the Continuation of the Blessings which we derive from that illustrious

House;—that He hath been pleased to prosper the whole British Empire by

the Preservation of Peace, the Encrease of Trade, and the opening of new

Sources of National Wealth;—and now particularly that he hath been

pleased to favor the people of this province with healthy and kindly

Seasons, and to bless the Labour of their Hands with a Sufficiency of

the Produce of the Earth and of the Sea.

And I do exhort all Ministers of the Gospel, with their several

Congregations, within this Province, that they assemble on the said Day

in a Solemn manner to return their most humble thanks to Almighty §God§

for these and all other His Mercies vouchsafed unto us, and to beseech

Him, notwithstanding our Unworthiness, to continue his gracious

Providence over us. And I command and enjoin all Magistrates and Civil

Officers to see that the said Day be observed as a Day set apart for

religious worship, and that no servile Labour be permitted thereon.

§Given§ at the Council Chamber in Boston, the Fourth Day of November,

1767, in the Eighth Year of the Reign of our Sovereign Lord §George§ the

Third, by the Grace of God, of Great Britain, France and Ireland, King,

Defender of the Faith, &c.

§Fra Bernard.§

By his Excellency’s Command.

§A. Oliver§, _Sec’ry_

§God save the King.§

THE FIRST PRAYER IN CONGRESS.

In Thatcher’s _Military Journal_, under date of December, 1777, is a

note containing the first prayer in Congress, made by the Rev. Jacob

Duché, rector of Christ Church, a gentleman of learning and eloquence,

who subsequently proved traitorous to the cause of Independence:—

O Lord our heavenly Father, high and mighty King of kings and Lord of

lords, who dost from thy throne behold all the dwellers on earth, and

reignest with power supreme and uncontrolled over all the kingdoms,

empires, and governments; look down in mercy, we beseech thee, on these

American states, who have fled to thee from the rod of the oppressor,

and thrown themselves on thy gracious protection, desiring to be

henceforth dependent only on thee; to thee they have appealed for the

righteousness of their cause; to thee do they now look up for that

countenance and support which thou alone canst give; take them,

therefore, heavenly Father, under thy nurturing care; give them wisdom

in council, and valor in the field; defeat the malicious designs of our

cruel adversaries; convince _them_ of the unrighteousness of their

cause; and if they still persist in their sanguinary purposes, O let the

voice of thine own unerring justice, sounding in their hearts, constrain

them to drop the weapons of war from their unnerved hands in the day of

battle. Be thou present, O God of Wisdom, and direct the counsels of

this honorable assembly; enable them to settle things on the best and

surest foundation, that the scene of blood may be speedily closed, that

order, harmony, and peace may be effectually restored, and truth and

justice, religion and piety, prevail and flourish amongst thy people.

Preserve the health of their bodies and the vigor of their minds; shower

down on _them_ and the _millions_ they here represent, such temporal

blessings as thou seest expedient for them in this world, and crown them

with everlasting glory in the world to come. All this we ask in the name

and through the merits of Jesus Christ, thy Son, our Saviour. Amen!

THE FIRST REPORTERS.

In Sylvester O’Halloran’s _History and Antiquities of Ireland_,

published in Dublin in 1772, is the curious entry subjoined. Bille, a

Milesian king of a portion of Spain, had a son named Gollamh, who

“solicited his father’s permission to assist their Phœnician ancestors,

then greatly distressed by continual wars,” and having gained his

consent, the passage describing the result proceeds thus:—

With a well-appointed fleet of thirty ships and a select number of

intrepid warriors, he weighed anchor from the harbor of Corunna for

Syria. It appears that war was not the sole business of this equipment;

for in this fleet were embarked twelve youths of uncommon learning and

abilities, who were directed to make remarks on whatever they found new,

either in astronomy, navigation, arts, sciences, or manufactures. They

were to communicate their remarks and discoveries to each other, and

keep an exact account of whatever was worthy of notice. This took place

in the year of the world, 2650.

These twelve youths were _reporters_, and if this story be true, the

profession constituting “the fourth estate” may boast of an ancient

lineage.

THE FIRST EPIGRAM.

Among “first things,” the following is worth preserving, as it is

believed to be the first epigram extant in the English language. It was

written by Sir Thomas Wyat, who in some of his sonnets did not hesitate

to intimate his secret passion for Anne Boleyn.

_Of a new married student that plaid fast or lose._

A studient at his bok so plast,

That wealth he might have wonne,

From bok to wife did flete in hast,

From welth to wo to runne.

Now who hath plaid a feater cast,

Since jugling first begonne?

In _knitting_ of himself so _fast_,

Himself he hath undone.

NEWS.

The word news is commonly supposed to be derived from the adjective

_new_. It is asserted, however, that its origin is traceable to a custom

in former times of placing on the newspapers of the day the initial

letters of the cardinal points of the compass, thus:—

N

│

│

W──────┼──────E

│

│

S

These letters were intended to indicate that the paper contained

intelligence from the four quarters of the globe, but they finally came

to assume the form of the word _news_, from which the term newspaper is

derived.

THE EARLIEST NEWSPAPERS.

The Englishe Mercurie, now in MS. in the British Museum, has been proved

to be a forgery. The oldest regular newspaper published in England was

established by Nathaniel Butter, in 1662.

The oldest paper in France was commenced by Theophrastus Renaudet, in

1632, during the reign of Louis XIII. It was called the _Gazette de

France_.

The first Dutch newspaper, which is still continued under the name of

the _Haarlem Courant_, is dated January 8, 1656. It was then called _De

Weeckelycke Courante van Europa_, and contained two small folio pages of

news.

The first Russian newspaper was published in 1703. Peter the Great not

only took part personally in its editorial composition, but in

correcting proofs, as appears from sheets still in existence in which

are marks and alterations in his own hand. There are two complete copies

of the first year’s edition of this paper in the Imperial Library at St.

Petersburg.

The first newspaper established in North America was the Boston

News-Letter, commenced April 24, 1704. It was half a sheet of paper,

twelve inches by eight, two columns on a page. B. Green was the printer.

It survived till 1776,—seventy-two years. It advocated the policy of the

British Government at the commencement of the Revolution.

From a copy of this paper printed in 1769 is obtained the following

announcement:—

“The bell-cart will go through Boston, before the end of next month, to

collect rags for the paper-mill at Milton, when all people that will

encourage the paper-manufactory may dispose of their rags:

Rags are as beauties, which concealéd lie,

But when in paper, how it charms the eye!

Pray save your rags, new beauties it discover;

For paper truly, every one’s a lover:

By the pen and press such knowledge is displayed

As wouldn’t exist if paper was not made.

Wisdom of things mysterious, divine,

Illustriously doth on paper shine.”

THE FIRST PRINTING BY STEAM.

The first printing by steam was executed in the year 1817, by Bensley &

Son, London. The first book thus printed was Dr. Elliotson’s second

edition of Blumenbach’s Physiology.

THE FIRST TELEGRAPHIC MESSAGE.

Professor Morse, having returned to his native land from Europe,

proceeded immediately to Washington, where he renewed his endeavors to

procure the passage of the bill granting the appropriation of thirty

thousand dollars. Towards the close of the session of 1844, the House of

Representatives took it up and passed it by a large majority, and it

only remained for the action of the Senate. Its progress through this

house, as might be supposed, was watched with the most intense anxiety

by Professor Morse. There were only two days before the close of the

session, and it was found, on examination of the calendar, that no less

than one hundred and forty-three bills had precedence to it. Professor

Morse had nearly reached the bottom of his purse; his hard-earned

savings were almost spent; and, although he had struggled on with

undying hope for many years, it is hardly to be wondered at that he felt

disheartened now. On the last night of the session he remained till nine

o’clock, and then left without the slightest hope that the bill would be

passed. He returned to his hotel, counted his money, and found that

after paying his expenses to New York he would have seventy-five cents

left. That night he went to bed sad, but not without hope for the

future; for, through all his difficulties and trials, that never forsook

him. The next morning, as he was going to breakfast, one of the waiters

informed him that a young lady was in the parlor waiting to see him. He

went in immediately, and found that the young lady was Miss Ellsworth,

daughter of the Commissioner of Patents, who had been his most steadfast

friend while in Washington.

“I come,” said she, “to congratulate you.”

“For what?” said Professor Morse.

“On the passage of your bill,” she replied.

“Oh, no: you must be mistaken,” said he. “I remained in the Senate till

a late hour last night, and there was no prospect of its being reached.”

“Am I the first, then,” she exclaimed, joyfully, “to tell you?”

“Yes, if it is really so.”

“Well,” she continued, “father remained till the adjournment, and heard

it passed; and I asked him if I might not run over and tell you.”

“Annie,” said the Professor, his emotion almost choking his utterance,

“the first message that is sent from Washington to Baltimore shall be

sent from you.”

“Well,” she replied, “I will keep you to your word.”

While the line was in process of completion, Prof. Morse was in New

York, and upon receiving intelligence that it was in working order, he

wrote to those in charge, telling them not to transmit any messages over

it till his arrival. He then set out immediately for Washington, and on

reaching that city sent a note to Miss Ellsworth, informing her that he

was now ready to fulfill his promise, and asking her what message he

should send.

To this he received the following reply:—

§What hath God wrought!§

Words that ought to be written in characters of living light. The

message was twice repeated, and each time with the greatest success. As

soon as the result of the experiment was made known, Governor Seymour,

of Connecticut, afterwards United States minister at St. Petersburg,

called upon Professor Morse and claimed the first message for his State,

on the ground that Miss Ellsworth was a native of Hartford. We need

scarcely add that his claim was admitted; and now, engraved in letters

of gold, it is displayed conspicuously in the archives of the Historical

Society of Connecticut.

Nothing New Under the Sun.

FORESHADOWINGS OF THE MAGNETIC TELEGRAPH.

O utinam hæc ratio scribendi prodeat usu,

Cautior et citior properaret epistola, nullas

Latronum verita insidias fluviosve morantes:

Ipse suis Princeps manibus sibi conficeret rem!

_Nos soboles scribarum, emersi ex æquore nigro,

Consecraremus calamum Magnetis ad aras!_

The _Prolusiones Academicæ of Famianus Strada_, first printed in 1617,

consist of a series of essays upon Oratory, Philosophy, and Poetry, with

some admirable imitations of sundry Roman authors, in the style of

_Father Prout’s Reliques_. In the imitation of Lucretius, ii. 6, is a

description of the loadstone and its power of communicating

intelligence, remarkable as foreshadowing the modern method of

telegraphic communication. The following is a literal translation of the

curious passage:—

The Loadstone is a wonderful sort of mineral. Any articles made of iron,

like needles, if touched by it, derive by contact not only peculiar

power, but a certain property of motion by which they turn ever towards

the Constellation of the Bear, near the North Pole. By some peculiar

correspondency of impulse, any number of needles, which may have touched

the loadstone, preserve at all times a precisely corresponding position

and motion. Thus it happens that if one needle be moved at Rome, any

other, however far apart, is bound by some secret natural condition to

follow the same motion.

If you desire, therefore, to communicate intelligence to a distant

friend, who cannot be reached by letter, take a plain, round, flat disc,

and upon its outer rim mark down the letters of the alphabet, A, B, C,

&c., and, traversing upon the middle of your disc, have a needle (which

has touched loadstone) so arranged that it may be made to touch upon any

particular letter _ad libitum_. Make a similar disc, the exact duplicate

of this first one, with corresponding letters on its margin, and with a

revolving magnetized needle. Let the friend you propose corresponding

with take, at his departure, one disc along with him, and let him agree

with you beforehand on what particular days and at what particular hours

he will take observation of the needle, to see if it be vibrating and to

learn what it marks on the index. With this arrangement understood

between you both, if you wish to hold a private conversation with this

friend, whom the shores of some distant land have separated from you,

turn your finger to the disc and touch the easy-moving needle. Before

you lie, marked upon the outer edge, all the various letters: direct the

needle to such letters as are necessary to form the words you want,

touching a little letter here and there with the needle’s point, as it

goes traversing round and round the board, until you throw together, one

by one, your various ideas. Lo! the wonderful fidelity of

correspondence! Your distant friend notes the revolving needle vibrate

without apparent impulse and fly hither and thither round the rim. He

notes its movements, and reading, as he follows its motion, the various

letters which make up the words, he perceives all that is necessary, and

learns your meaning from the interpreting needle. When he sees the

needle pause, he, in turn, in like manner touches the various letters,

and sends back his answer to his friend. Oh that this style of writing

were brought into use, that a friendly message might travel quicker and

safer, defying snares of robbers or delaying rivers! Would that the

prince himself would finish the great work with his own hands! Then we

race of scribblers, emerging from our sea of ink, would lay the quill an

offering on the altars of the loadstone.

This idea of Strada is based upon the erroneous impression entertained

generally at the time when he wrote, that magnetic power, when imparted

by the loadstone to metallic articles like needles, communicated to them

a kind of homogeneous impulse, which of necessity caused between them a

sympathetic correspondence of motion.

The curious reader will be further interested to learn from the

following passage, extracted from the “Tour” of §Arthur Young§, the

distinguished agriculturist, who travelled through Ireland in 1775–78,

that the theory of electrical correspondence by means of a wire was

_practically_ illustrated before Mr. Morse was born:—

In electricity, Mons. Losmond has made a remarkable discovery. You write

two or three words on a paper; he takes it with him into a room, and

turns a machine enclosed in a cylindrical case, at the top of which is

an electrometer, in the shape of a small fine pith ball. A wire connects

with a similar cylinder and electrometer in a distant apartment, and his

wife, by remarking the corresponding motions of the ball, writes down

the words they indicate, _from which it appears that he has formed an

alphabet of motions. As the length of wire makes no difference in the

effect, a correspondence might be carried on at any distance_, within

and without a besieged town, for instance, or for a purpose much more

worthy and a thousand times more harmless, between two lovers,

prohibited or prevented from any better epistolary intercourse.

A second edition of Mr. Young’s Tour was published in quarto in 1794,

and the above extract may be found on page 79, volume i.

THE FIRST DISCOVERIES OF STEAM-POWER.

The following extracts from an address by Edward Everett, at an

agricultural fair, embody facts the more interesting from their limited

notoriety:—

I never contemplate the history of navigation of the ocean by steam, but

it seems to illustrate to me in the most striking manner the slow steps

by which a great movement advances for generations, for ages, from the

first germ,—then, when the hour is come, the rapidity with which it

rushes to a final consummation. Providence offered this great problem of

navigating the ocean by steam to every civilized nation almost on the

globe. As long ago as the year 1543, there was a captain in Spain, who

constructed a vessel of two hundred tons, and propelled it, at

Barcelona, in the presence of the Emperor Charles V. and his court, by

an engine, the construction of which he kept a secret. But old documents

tell us it was a monster caldron boiler of water, and that there were

two movable wheels on the outside of the vessel. The Emperor was

satisfied with its operation, but the treasurer of the kingdom

interposed objections to its introduction. The engine itself seems to

have sprung to a point of perfection hardly surpassed at the present

day, but no encouragement was given to the enterprise. Spain was not

ripe for it; the age was not ripe for it; and the poor inventor, whose

name was Blasco de Guerere, wearied and disgusted at the want of

patronage, took the engine out of the vessel and allowed the ship to rot

in the arsenal, and the secret of his machine was buried in his grave.

This was in 1543. A century passed away, and Providence offered the same

problem to be solved by France. In reference to this, we have an

extraordinary account, and from a source equally extraordinary,—from the

writings of a celebrated female, in the middle of that century, equally

renowned for her beauty, for her immoralities, and for her

longevity,—for she lived to be one hundred and thirty-four years of

age,—the famous Marian de l’Orme. There is a letter from this lady,

written to one of her admirers in 1641, containing an account of a visit

she made to a mad-house in Paris in company with the Marquis of

Worcester. She goes on to relate, that in company with the marquis,

while crossing the courtyard of that dismal establishment, almost

petrified with terror, and clinging to her companion, she saw a

frightful face through the bars of the building, and heard this

voice:—“I am not mad—I am not mad: I have made a discovery which will

enrich the kingdom that shall adopt it.” She asked the guide what it

meant: he shrugged his shoulders and said, laughingly, “Not much;

something about the powers of steam.” Upon this, the lady laughed also,

to think that a man should go mad on such a frivolous subject. The guide

went on to say that the man’s name was Solomon de Coste; that he came

from Normandy four years before, and exhibited to the king an invention

by which, by the power of steam, you could move a carriage, navigate the

ocean: “in short, if you believed him,” said the guide, “there was

nothing you could not do by the power of steam.” Cardinal Richelieu, who

at that time was France itself, and who wielded the whole power of

government,—and, in truth, an enlightened man, as worldly wisdom

goes,—was appealed to by Solomon de Coste. De Coste was a persevering

man, and he followed Cardinal Richelieu from place to place, exhibiting

his invention, until the cardinal, getting tired of his importunities,

sent him to the mad-house. The guide stated further that he had written

a book entitled _Motive Power_, and handed the visitors a copy of it.

The Marquis of Worcester, who was an inventor, was much interested in

the book, and incorporated a considerable portion of it in his

well-known work called _The Century of Invention_.

It will be seen from this anecdote how France proved in 1641, as Spain

had proved in 1543, that she was unable to take up and wield this mortal

thunderbolt. And so the problem of navigating the ocean by steam was

reserved for the Anglo-Saxon race. Soon after this period, the best

mechanical skill of England was directed towards this invention.

Experiments were often made, with no success, and sometimes with only

partial success, until the middle of the last century, when the seeds

implanted in the minds of ingenious men for two hundred years

germinated, and the steam-engine—that scarcely inanimate Titan, that

living, burning mechanism—was brought nearly to a state of perfection by

James Watt, who took out a patent in 1769,—the great year in which

Wellington and Napoleon were born; and ages after the names of

Austerlitz and Waterloo shall perish from the memory of man, the myriad

hosts of intelligent labor, marshalled by the fiery champions that James

Watt has placed in the field, shall gain their bloodless triumph, not

for the destruction but for the service of mankind. All hail, then, to

the mute, indefatigable giant, in the depths of the darksome mines,

along the pathway of travel and trade, and on the mountain wave, that is

destined to drag, urge, heave, haul, for the service of man! No fatigue

shall palsy its herculean arm, no trampled hosts shall writhe beneath

its iron feet, no widow’s heart shall bleed at its beneficent victories.

England invented the steam-engine; but it seems as if by the will of

Providence she could not go farther. Queen of the seas, as she deemed

herself, she could not apply the invention she had brought almost to

perfection, and that part of the great problem, the navigation of the

ocean by steam, was reserved for the other branch of the Anglo-Saxon

race,—the branch situated in a region in this Western hemisphere whose

territory is traversed by some of the noblest rivers that belt the

surface of the globe, and separated by the world-wide ocean from the

Eastern hemisphere. It is amazing to consider how, with the dawn of the

Revolution, the thoughts of men turned to the application of

steam-navigation. Rumsey, Fitch, and Evans made experiments, and those

experiments attracted the notice of one whom nothing escaped pertaining

to the welfare of his country: I mean Washington. And we have a

certificate from him, expressing the satisfaction with which he had

witnessed the experiment of Rumsey. The attempt proved rather

unsuccessful. I think it a providential appointment that the ocean was

not navigated by steam in the Revolutionary age. The enormous

preponderance of British capital and skill, if the ocean had been

navigated by steam, would have put in her possession facilities for

blockading our ports and transporting armies to our coasts, which might

have had a disastrous effect on the result of the whole contest. But the

Revolution passed and independence was established: the hour had come,

and the man was there.

In the year 1799 this system of steam-navigation became matured in the

mind of Fulton, who found a liberal and active coadjutor in Chancellor

Livingston, who, in the same year, applied to the Legislature of New

York for an act of incorporation. I am sorry to say that America at that

moment could not boast of much keener perception of the nature of this

discovery than France or Spain had done before. Chancellor Livingston at

last had a petition drawn up of the act he desired passed. It was

drafted by the young men of the Legislature, who, when tired of the

graver matters of law, used to call up the “steam bill” that they might

have a little fun. Young America, on that occasion, did not show himself

much wiser than his senior. Nothing daunted at the coldness he received,

nothing discouraged by the partial success of the first experiment,

Chancellor Livingston persevered. Twenty years elapsed before steamers

were found upon our lakes and rivers, and at that time such a system of

steam-navigation was wholly unknown, except by hearsay, in Europe. This

application of steam soon became a pressing necessity in this country,

but twenty years more passed away before it was adopted in England. I

could not but think, when the news of the Atlantic Telegraph came, what

must have been the emotions of Fulton and Franklin could they have stood

upon the quarter-deck of the Niagara and witnessed the successful

termination of that electric communication which is the result of their

united discoveries!

ÆRIAL NAVIGATION.

When air-balloons were first discovered, some one flippantly asked Dr.

Franklin what was the use of it. The philosopher answered the question

by asking another:—“What is the use of a new-born infant? It may become

a man.”

The first balloon-ascension was made by Pilatre de Rozier and the

Marquis d’Arlandes, November 21, 1783, in a montgolfière.

A century and a half before this, John Gregorie wrote, “The air itself

is not so unlike to water, but that it may be demonstrated to be

navigable, and that a ship may sail upon the convexity thereof by the

same reasons that it is carried upon the ocean.”

In the first number of the Philosophical Collections, 1679, is “a

demonstration how it is practically possible to make a ship, which shall

be sustained by the air, and may be moved either by sails or oars,” from

a work entitled _Prodroma_, published in Italian by P. Francesco Lana.

The scheme was that of making a brazen vessel which should weigh less

than the air it contained, and consequently float in the air when that

which was within it was pumped out. He calculated every thing—except the

pressure of the atmosphere, in consequence of which _slight_ oversight

he realized no practical result.

THE CIRCULATION OF THE BLOOD.

Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood in 1619; but we learn

from a passage in Longinus (ch. xxii.) that the fact was known two

thousand years before. The father of critics, to exemplify and

illustrate the use and value of _trope_ in writing, has garbled from the

_Timæus_ of Plato a number of sentences descriptive of the anatomy of

the human body, where the circulation of the blood is pointed at in

terms singularly graphic. The exact extent of professional knowledge

attained in the time of the great philosopher is by no means clearly

defined. He speaks of the fact, however, not with a view to prove what

was contested or chimerical, but avails himself of it to figure the

surpassing wisdom of the gods in constructing the human frame.

ANÆSTHESIA.

The use of the vapor of sulphuric ether for the purpose of inducing

insensibility to surgical operations was first practically adopted by

Dr. Morton, of Boston, in 1846; that of chloroform, by Dr. Simpson, of

Edinburgh, in 1847. To this period we must assign the most important

epoch in the annals of surgery, and the date of one of the grandest

discoveries of science and one of the greatest blessings ever conferred

upon humanity.

The idea, however, of saving the human body, by artificial means, from

the pains and tortures inflicted by the knife of the surgeon, has been

by no means either first broached or first acted upon in recent times.

Intense pain is regarded by mankind generally as so serious an evil that

it would have been strange indeed if efforts had not been early made to

diminish this species of suffering. The use of the juice of the poppy,

henbane, mandragora, and other narcotic preparations, to effect this

object by their deadening influence, may be traced back till it

disappears in the darkness of a remote antiquity.

Intoxicating vapors were also employed, by way of inhalation, to produce

the same effects as drugs of this nature introduced into the stomach.

This appears from the account given by Herodotus of the practice of the

Scythians, several centuries before Christ, of using the vapor of

hemp-seed as a means of drunkenness. The known means of stupefaction

were very early resorted to in order to counteract pain produced by

artificial causes. In executions under the horrible form of crucifixion,

soporific mixtures were administered to alleviate the pangs of the

victim. The draught of vinegar and gall, or myrrh, offered to the

Saviour in his agony, was the ordinary tribute of human sympathy

extorted from the bystander by the spectacle of intolerable anguish.

That some lethean anodyne might be found to assuage the torment of

surgical operations as they were anciently performed, [cauterizing the

cut surfaces, instead of tying the arteries,] was not only a favorite

notion, but it had been in some degree, however imperfect, reduced to

practice. Pliny the Naturalist, who perished in the eruption of Vesuvius

which entombed the city of Herculaneum in the year 79, bears distinct

and decided testimony to this fact.

In his description of the plant known as the mandragora or circeius, he

says, “It has a soporific power on the faculties of those who drink it.

The ordinary potion is half a cup. It is drunk against serpents, and

_before cuttings and puncturings_, lest they should be felt.” (_Bibitur

et contra serpentes, et ante sectiones, punctionesque, ne sentiantur._)

When he comes to speak of the plant _eruca_, called by us the rocket, he

informs us that its seeds, when drunk, infused in wine, by criminals

about to undergo the lash, produce a certain callousness or induration

of feeling (_duaitiam, quandam contra sensum induere_).

Pliny also asserts that the stone _Memphitis_, powdered and applied in a

liniment with vinegar, will stupefy parts to be cut or cauterized, “for

it so paralyzes the part that it feels no pain” (_nec sentit

cruciatum_).

Dioscorides, a Greek physician of Cilicia, in Asia, who was born about

the time of Pliny’s death, and who wrote an extensive work on the

materia medica, observes, in his chapter on mandragora,—

1. “Some boil down the roots in wine to a third part, and preserve the

juice thus procured, and give one cyathus of it in sleeplessness and

severe pains, of whatever part; also _to cause the insensibility_—to

produce the anæsthesia ποιειν αναισθησιαν—_of those who are to be cut or

cauterized_.”

2. “There is prepared, also, besides the decoction, a wine from the bark

of the root, three minæ being thrown into a cask of sweet wine, and of

this three cyathi are given _to those who are to be cut or cauterized,

as aforesaid_; for, being thrown into a deep sleep, _they do not

perceive pain_.”

3. Speaking of another variety of mandragora, called _morion_, he

observes, “Medical men use it also for those who are to be cut or

cauterized.”

Dioscorides also describes the stone Memphitis, mentioned by Pliny, and

says that when it is powdered and applied to parts to be cut or

cauterized, they are rendered, _without the slightest danger_, wholly

insensible to pain. Matthiolus, the commentator on Dioscorides, confirms

his statement of the virtues of mandragora, which is repeated by

Dodoneus. “Wine in which the roots of mandragora have been steeped,”

says this latter writer, “brings on sleep, and appeases all pains, so

that it is given to those who are to be cut, sawed, or burned in any

parts of their body, that they may not perceive pain.”

The expressions used by Apuleius of Madaura, who flourished about a

century after Pliny, are still more remarkable than those already quoted

from the older authors. He says, when treating of mandragora, “If any

one is to have a member mutilated, burned, or sawed, [_mutilandum,

comburendum, vel serrandum_,] let him drink half an ounce with wine, and

_let him sleep till the member is cut away without any pain or

sensation_ [_et tantum dormiet, quosque abscindatur membrum aliquo sine

dolore et sensu_].”

It was not in Europe and in Western Asia alone that these early efforts

to discover some lethean were made, and attended with partial success.

On the opposite side of the continent, the Chinese—who have anticipated

the Europeans in so many important inventions, as in gunpowder, the

mariner’s compass, printing, lithography, paper money, and the use of

coal—seem to have been quite as far in advance of the Occidental world

in medical science. They understood, ages before they were introduced

into Christendom, the use of substances containing iodine for the cure

of the goitre, and employed spurred rye (ergot) to shorten

dangerously-prolonged labor in difficult accouchements. Among the

therapeutic methods confirmed by the experience of thousands of years,

the records of which they have preserved with religious veneration, the

employment of an anæsthetic agent to paralyze the nervous sensibility

before performing surgical operations, is distinctly set forth. Among a

considerable number of Chinese works on the pharmacopœia, medicine, and

surgery, in the National Library at Paris, is one entitled

_Kou-kin-i-tong_, or general collection of ancient and modern medicine,

in fifty volumes quarto. Several hundred biographical notices of the

most distinguished physicians in China are prefixed to this work. The

following curious passages occur in the sketches of the biography of

_Hoa-tho_, who flourished under the dynasty of _Wei_, between the years

220 and 230 of our era. “When he determined that it was necessary to

employ acupuncture, he employed it in two or three places; and so with

the _moxa_ if that was indicated by the nature of the affection to be

treated. But if the disease resided in parts upon which the needle,

moxa, or liquid medicaments could not operate,—for example in the bones,

or the marrow of the bones, in the stomach or the intestines,—_he gave_

the patient a preparation of hemp, (in the Chinese language _mayo_,) and

after a few moments he became as insensible as if he had been drunk or

dead. Then, as the case required, he performed operations, incisions, or

amputations, and removed the cause of the malady; then he brought

together and secured the tissues, and applied liniments. After a certain

number of days, the patient recovered, _without having experienced the

slightest pain during the operation_.”

Almost a thousand years after the date of the unmistakable phrases

quoted from Apuleius, according to the testimony of William of Tyre, and

other chroniclers of the wars for the rescue of the holy sepulchre, and

the fascinating narrative of _Marco Polo_, a state of anæsthesia was

induced for very different purposes. It became an instrument in the

hands of bold and crafty impostors to perpetuate and extend the most

terrible fanaticism that the world has ever seen.

The employment of anæsthetic agents in surgical operations was not

forgotten or abandoned during the period when they were pressed into the

appalling service just described. In the thirteenth century, anæsthesia

was produced by inhalation of an anodyne vapor, in a mode oddly

forestalling the practices of the present day, which is described as

follows in the surgical treatise of Theodoric, who died in 1298. It is

the receipt for the “spongia somnifera,” as it is called in the rubric:—

“The preparation of a scent for performing surgical operations,

according to Master Hugo. It is made thus:—Take of opium and the juice

of unripe mulberry, of hyoscyamus, of the juice of the hemlock, of the

juice of the leaves of the mandragora, of the juice of the woody ivy, of

the juice of the forest mulberry, of the seeds of lettuce, of the seed

of the burdock, which has large and round apples, and of the

water-hemlock, each one ounce; mix the whole of these together in a

brazen vessel, and then place a new sponge in it, and let the whole

boil, and as long as the sun on the dog-days, till it (the sponge)

consumes it all, and let it be boiled away in it. As often as there is

need of it, place this same sponge in warm water for one hour, and let

it be applied to the nostrils till he who is to be operated on (_qui

incidentus est_) has fallen asleep; and in this state let the operation

be performed (_et sic fiat chirurgia_). When this is finished, in order

to rouse him, place another, dipped in vinegar, frequently to his nose,

or let the juice of the roots of fenigreek be squirted into his

nostrils. Presently he awakens.”

Subsequent to Theodoric’s time, we find many interesting and suggestive

observations in the writings of Baptista Porta, Chamappe, Meissner,

Dauriol, Haller, and Blandin. About half a century ago, Sir Humphry Davy

thus hinted at the possibility that a pain subduing gas might be

inhaled:—“As _nitrous oxide_, in its extensive operation, appears

capable of destroying physical pain, it may probably be used with

advantage during surgical operations in which no great effusion of blood

takes place.” Baron Larrey, Napoleon’s surgeon, after the battle of

Eylau, found a remarkable insensibility in the wounded who suffered

amputations, owing to the intense cold. This fact afterwards led to the

application of ice as a local anæsthetic.

The former general belief that a degree of anæsthetic and prolonged

sleep could be induced artificially by certain medicated potions and

preparations is also shown by the frequency with which the idea is

alluded to by the older poets and storytellers, and made part of the

machinery in the popular romance and drama. In the history of Taliesin,

(one of the antique Welsh tales contained in the Mabinogion,) Rhun is

described as having put the maid of the wife of Elphin into a deep sleep

with a powder put into her drink, and as having cut off one of her

fingers when she was in this case of artificial anæsthesia. Shakspeare,

besides alluding more than once to the soporific property of mandragora,

describes with graphic power in Romeo and Juliet, and in Cymbeline, the

imagined effects of subtle distilled potions supposed capable of

inducing, without danger, a prolonged state of death-like sleep or

lethargy. And Thomas Middleton, in his tragedy of _Women beware Women_,

published in 1657, pointedly and directly alludes in the following

lines, to the practice of anæsthesia in ancient surgery:—

_Hippolito_. Yes, my lord,

I make no doubt, as I shall take the course,

Which she shall never know till it be acted;

And when she wakes to honor, then she’ll thank me for’t.

_I’ll imitate the pities of old surgeons_

To this lost limb; _who, ere they show their art,

Cast one asleep, then cut the diseased part_;

So out of love to her I pity most,

She shall not feel him going till he’s lost;

Then she’ll commend the cure.—Act iv. Sc. 1.

The following curious lines from Du Bartas, translated by Joshua

Sylvester (?) are also well worth transcribing in this connection.

Du Bartas died about the year 1590:—

Even as a Surgeon minding off-to-cut

Som cureless limb; before in use he put

His violent Engins on the vicious member,

Bringeth his Patient in a senseless slumber:

And griefless then (guided by Use and Art)

To save the whole saws off th’ infested part.

So God empal’d our Grandsire’s (Adam) lively look,

Through all his bones a deadly chilness strook,

Siel’d-up his sparkling eyes with Iron bands,

Led down his feet (almost) to Lethe’s sands;

In briefe, so numm’d his Soule’s and Bodie’s sense,

That (without pain) opening his side, from thence

He took a rib, which rarely He refin’d,

And thereof made the Mother of Mankind.

The history of anæsthetics is a remarkable illustration of the

acknowledged fact that science has sometimes, for a long season,

altogether lost sight of great practical thoughts, from being unprovided

with proper means and instruments for carrying out those thoughts into

practical execution; and hence it ever and anon occurs that a supposed

modern discovery is only the rediscovery of a principle already

sufficiently known to other ages, or to remote nations.

THE BOOMERANG.

The following paragraph in Pliny’s _Natural History_, xxiv. 72,

apparently refers to the Boomerang, with which, according to recent

discoveries, the early people of the East were acquainted. See Bonomi’s

_Nineveh_, p. 136. Pliny, speaking of the account given by Pythagoras of

the _Aquifolia_, either the holm-oak or the holly, says:—

Baculum ex eâ factum, in quodvis animal emissum, etiamsi citra

ceciderit defectu mittentis, ipsum per sese cubitu proprius adlabi;

tam præcipuam naturam inesse arbori.

(If a staff made of this wood, when thrown at any animal, from want of

strength in the party throwing it, happens to fall short of the mark,

it will fall back again towards the thrower of its own accord—so

remarkable are the properties of this tree.)

The readings of the passage vary, _cubitu_ being given in some MSS. for

_recubitu_. Pythagoras probably heard of the _baculum_ during his

travels eastward, and being unable to understand how its formation could

endow it with the singular property referred to, was induced to believe

that this peculiarity was owing to the nature of the tree.

THE ATTRACTION OF GRAVITATION.

Both Dante and Shakspeare preceded Newton in knowledge of the principle,

if not the law, of gravitation. In their anticipation of its discovery,

the poets may not have deemed it other than a philosophic or poetic

speculation. But the following passages attest earlier observations of a

physical law than those of Pascal or Newton.

Shakspeare says in _Troilus and Cressida_:—

But the strong base and building of my love

Is as the very centre of the earth

Drawing all things to it.—iv. 2.

and

True as earth to its centre.—iii. 2.

Three centuries before Shakspeare, Dante said in the _Inferno_:—

Thou dost imagine we are still

On the other side the central point, where I

Clasped the earth-piercing worm, fell cause of ill.

So far as I continued to descend,

That side we kept; but when I turned, then we

_Had passed the point to which all bodies tend_.

_Canto_ xxxiv. 106–111.

EARLY INVENTION OF RIFLING.

In Sir Hugh Plat’s _Jewel-House of Art and Nature_, 1653, (1st edition

1594) the 17th article runs thus:—

_How to make a Pistol, whose Barrel is 2 Foot in Length, to deliver a

Bullet point blank at Eightscore._

A pistol of the aforesaid length, and being of the petronel bore, or a

bore higher, having eight gutters somewhat deep in the inside of the

barrel, and the bullet a thought bigger than the bore, and so rammed in

at the first three or four inches at the least, and after driven down

with the scouring stick, will deliver his bullet at such distance. This

I had of an English gentleman of good note for an approved experiment.

TABLE-MOVING AND ALPHABET-RAPPING IN THE FOURTH CENTURY.

The following remarkable narration is the confession of a conspirator

named Hilarius, who was accused of resorting to unlawful arts for the

purpose of discovering who should be the successor to the Roman Emperor

Valens, who died §A.D.§ 378. We are told by Ammianus Marcellinus, a

contemporary historian, that, while under torture, he thus addressed his

judges:—

With direful rites, O august judges, we prepared this unfortunate little

table, which you see, of laurel branches, in imitation of the Delphic

cortina, (or tripod,) and when it had been duly consecrated by

imprecation of secret charms and many long and choric ceremonies, we at

length moved it. The method of moving it, when it was consulted on

secret matters, was as follows: It was placed in the midst of a house

purified with Arabian odors; upon it was placed a round dish, made of

various metallic substances, which had the twenty-four letters of the

alphabet curiously engraved round the rim, at accurately-measured

distances from each other. One clothed with linen garments, carrying

branches of a sacred tree, and having, by charms framed for the purpose,

propitiated the deity who is the giver of prescience, places other

lesser cortinæ on this larger one, with ceremonial skill. He holds over

them a ring which has been subjected to some mysterious preparation, and

which is suspended by a very fine Carpathian thread. This ring, passing

over the intervals, and falling on one letter after the other, spells

out heroic verses pertinent to the questions asked. We then thus

inquired who should succeed to the government of the empire. The leaping

ring had indicated two syllables, (§The-od§;) and on the addition of the

last letter one of the persons present cried out, “Theodorus.”

Theodorus, and many others, were executed for their share in this dark

transaction, (see Gibbon;) but Theodosius the Great finally succeeded to

the empire, and was, of course, supposed to be the person indicated by

the magic rites. The above literal translation is given by the learned

Dr. Maitland in a little book, lately published, _Essay on False

Worship_, London, 1856. The original was hardly intelligible, till light

had been thrown on it by recent practices, of which we have all heard so

much. The coincidence is, to say the least, extraordinary, and opens

views which are briefly considered in the above-mentioned work.

AUSCULTATION AND PERCUSSION.

Laennec invented the stethoscope and perfected his discoveries in the

physical diagnosis of the diseases of the heart and lungs, in 1816.

Avenbrugger published his work on Percussion in 1761.

One hundred and fifty years before Laennec’s suddenly conceived act of

applying a roll of paper to the breast of a female patient gave birth to

thoracic acoustics, that ingenious and philosophic man, Robert Hooke,

said in his writings:—

“There may be a possibility of discovering the internal motions and

actions of bodies by the sound they make. Who knows, but that as in a

watch we may hear the beating of the balance, and the running of the

wheels, and the striking of the hammers, and the grating of the teeth,

and a multitude of other noises,—who knows, I say, but that it may be

possible to discover the motions of internal parts of bodies, whether

animal, vegetable, or mineral, by the sounds they make?—that one may

discover the works performed in the several offices and shops of a man’s

body, and thereby discover what engine is out of order, what works are

going on at several times and lie still at others, and the like? I have

this encouragement not to think all these things impossible, though

never so much derided by the generality of men, and never so seemingly

mad, foolish, and fantastic, that as the thinking them impossible cannot

much improve my knowledge, so the believing them possible may perhaps be

an occasion for taking notice of such things as another would pass by

without regard as useless, and somewhat more of encouragement I have

from experience that I have been able to hear very plainly the beating

of a man’s heart; and it is common to hear the motion of the wind to and

fro in the intestines; the stopping of the lungs is easily discovered by

the wheezing. As to the motion of the parts one among the other, to

their becoming sensible they require either that their motions be

increased or that the organ (the ear) be made more nice and powerful, to

sensate and distinguish them as they are; for the doing of both which I

think it is not impossible but that in many cases there may be §HELPS§

found.”

THE STEREOSCOPE.

Sir David Brewster, inquiring into the history of the stereoscope, finds

that its fundamental principle was well known even to Euclid; that it

was distinctly described by Galen fifteen hundred years ago; and that

Giambattista Porta had, in 1599, given such a complete drawing of the

two separate pictures as seen by each eye, and of the combined picture

placed between them, that we recognize in it not only the principle, but

the construction, of the stereoscope.

PREDICTIONS OF THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA.

Seneca, in his _Medea_, Act ii, thus shadowed forth this event fifteen

centuries before its occurrence:—

Venient annis Sæcula seris,

Quibus Oceanus vincula rerum

Laxet, et ingens pateat Tellus,

Tiphysque novos detegat orbes;

Nec sit terris Ultima Thule.

(After the lapse of years, ages will come in which Ocean shall relax

his chains around the world, and a vast continent shall appear, and

Tiphys—the pilot—shall explore new regions, and Thule shall be no

longer the utmost verge of the earth.)

“A prediction,” says the commentator, “of the Spanish discovery of

America.”

Before Seneca’s lines were written, Plato had narrated the Egyptian

legend that, engulfed in the ocean, but sometimes visible, was the

island of Atalantis, supposed to mean the Western world.

Pulci, the friend of Lorenzo de Medici, in his _Morgante Maggiore_,

written before the voyage of Columbus and before the physical

discoveries of Galileo and Copernicus, introduces this remarkable

prophecy; (alluding to the vulgar belief that the _Columns of Hercules_

were the limits of the earth.)

Know that this theory is false: his bark

The daring mariner shall urge far o’er

The western wave, a smooth and level plain,

Albeit the earth is fashioned like a wheel.

Man was in ancient days of grosser mould,

And Hercules might blush to learn how far

Beyond the limits he had vainly set,

The dullest sea-boat soon shall wing her way.

Men shall descry another hemisphere;

Since to one common centre all things tend,

So earth, by curious mystery divine,

Well balanced hangs amid the starry spheres.

At our antipodes are cities, states,

And thronged empires, ne’er divined of yore.

But see, the sun speeds on his western path

To glad the nations with expected light.

Dante, two centuries before, put this language into the mouth of

Ulysses:—

The broad Atlantic first my keel impressed,

I saw the sinking barriers of the west,

And boldly thus addressed my hardy crew:—

While yet your blood is warm, my gallant train,

Explore with me the perils of the main

And find new worlds unknown to mortal view.

_Inferno_, Canto 26.

He then proceeds to mention the discovery of a mountainous island, after

five months’ sailing.

The probability of a short western passage to India is mentioned by

Aristotle, _De Cœlo_, ii., a view confirmed in stronger terms afterwards

by Edrisi, the Arabian geographer, Strabo, Francis Bacon, Cardinal de

Alliaco (_Imago Mundi_), and Toscanelli.

Triumphs of Ingenuity.

_Though there were many giants of old in physic and philosophy, yet I

say, with Didacus Stella, “A dwarf standing on the shoulders of a

giant may see farther than a giant himself.”_—§Burton§, _Anat. of

Melancholy_.

THE DISCOVERY OF THE PLANET NEPTUNE.

In his solitary study sat a young man, pale and thoughtful. His eyes

were fixed upon myriads of numerals, through whose complexity his

far-reaching mind saw into the untold mysteries of the solar universe.

His glass was not pointed to the heavens, his eyes looked not out upon

the stars, but his soul, in deep abstraction, pondered over the

perturbations of Uranus, as noted for many a year before by many a

casual observer. He measured the intensity and the direction of the

disturbing forces, questioned the planet that was seen and known

concerning the unknown cause of its irregularities, and compelled a

star, itself beyond the reach of the common eye, to tell of the

whereabouts, the volume, the orbit, of its fellow, which no eye, even

through an optic-glass, had ever yet seen, and whose very existence then

came for the first time upon the mental vision of the youthful sage

through the power of numerical calculation. His was a faith. It was the

evidence of things not seen. But it was like that higher and better

faith of which spake the great Apostle of the Gentiles,—fast and sure.

Full of his discovery, Le Verrier offered his conclusions to the

Academy; but learned men, when assembled in bodies, give to enthusiasts

but a cold reception. Le Verrier, sure of his position, then wrote to

Dr. Galle, the Astronomer-Royal in Berlin, asking him to point his

powerful glass to a certain quarter of the heavens, where must be found

at that time the last of the planets. And there it was; and thence it

was traced upon its mighty way, bending, like its fellows, to the

distant influence of its great centre, the sun. There is something

almost affecting in the thought that Le Verrier should have been denied

the first direct sight of the sublime star towards which his soul had

been so long leaning and which had so long been within his mental

vision. It was, however, a fortunate loss, since his adversaries would

have charged him with having found by chance what he detected by reason,

and thus have placed in a common category one of the most magnificent

discoveries of modern times, a beautiful illustration of the gigantic

power of calculation.

The distance of Neptune from the sun is 2,810,000,000 miles, and the

time required for its orbital revolution, 164 years. Its diameter is

41,500 miles.

THE DISCOVERY OF THE PLANET VULCAN.

Leverrier, encouraged and made illustrious by his success in exploring

those infinite spaces beyond the orbit of Herschel, turned his attention

to the innermost circles—the central region of our solar system. By

theoretical demonstrations, based on irregularities in the movements of

Mercury, he proved the existence of some planet or planets lying still

more closely within the light and heat of the sun. While proceeding with

his calculations, he received a letter from Lescarbault—a poor physician

of Orgères, a village in the department of Eure and Loire, in

France—announcing the discovery of an intra-Mercurial body, making its

transit, in appearance like a small black spot, across the disk of the

sun. Possessed of a sensitive and modest soul,—as all true lovers of

science are,—the doctor at first doubted the reality of his discovery,

and hesitated to make it known. It was only after vainly waiting nine

months, to verify his observation by another view of the object, that he

prepared a letter, narrating what he thought he had seen, and sent it to

the great Leverrier. The latter had just published an article on

Mercury’s perturbations in the _Kosmos_ of Paris. Astonished at this

coincident proof of the correctness of his theory, he lost no time in

starting for the village of Orgères, to obtain a personal interview with

the humble discoverer of the new orb. The following account of the

meeting was reported in the _Kosmos_ by the Abbé Moigne, who took it

from the lips of Leverrier himself:—

Leverrier left Paris for Orgères, in company with Vallee, four days

after the date of Lescarbault’s letter. Orgères was twelve miles from

the nearest railroad-station, and the party had to foot it across the

country. On their arrival, Leverrier knocked loudly at the door, which

was opened by the doctor himself; but his visitor declined to give his

name. The simple, modest, timid Lescarbault, small in stature, stood

abashed before the tall Leverrier, who, in blunt intonation, addressed

him thus: “It is you, then, sir, who pretend to have discovered the

intra-Mercurial planet, and who have committed the grave offence of

keeping your discovery secret for nine months! I come to do justice to

your pretensions, to warn you that you have either been dishonest or

deceived. Tell me unequivocally what you have seen.” The lamb-like

doctor, trembling at this rude summons, stammered out the following

reply:—

“On the 26th of March (1859), about four o’clock, I turned my telescope

to the sun, when, to my surprise, I saw, at a small distance from its

margin, a black spot, well defined, and perfectly round, advancing upon

the disk of the sun. A customer called me away, and, hurrying him off as

fast as I could, I came back to my glass, when I found the round spot

had continued its transit, and I saw it disappear from the opposite

margin of the sun, after a projection upon it of an hour and a half. I

did not seize the precise moment of contact. The spot was on the disk

when I first saw it. I measured its distance from the margin, and

counted the time it took to make the same distance, and so approximated

the instant of its entry.” “To count time is easy to say,” said

Leverrier; “but where is your chronometer?” “My chronometer is this

watch, that beats only minutes,—the faithful companion of my

professional labors.” “What! with that old watch? How dare you talk of

counting seconds? My suspicions are too well founded.” “Pardon me, sir,

but I have a pendulum that nearly beats seconds, and I will bring it

down to show you.” He goes above-stairs and brings down a silken thread,

the upper end of which he fastens to a nail, and brings to rest the

ivory ball at the lower end. He then starts it from the vertical, and

its oscillations beat seconds very nearly. “This is not enough, sir: how

do you count these seconds while in the act of observing?” “My

profession is to feel pulses and count their pulsations, and my pendulum

puts my seconds into my ears, and I have no difficulty in counting

them.”

“But where is your telescope?” The doctor showed Leverrier his glass,

which was one of Cauchoix’s best. It was four inches in diameter, and

mounted on a rude stand. He took the wondering astronomer-imperial to

his roof, where he was building a rude revolving platform and dome.

“This is all very well; but where is your original memorandum?” The

doctor ran and got his almanac, or _Connaissance des Temps_, and in it

he finds a square piece of paper, used as a marker, and on it, all

covered with grease and laudanum, is the original memorandum! “But you

have falsified the time of emergence. It is four minutes too late by

this memorandum.” “It is; but the four minutes are the error of my

watch, which I corrected by sidereal time, by the aid of this little

telescope.”

“But how did you determine the two angular co-ordinates of the point of

contact, of the entry and emergence of the planet, and how did you

measure the chord of the arc between them?” Having explained the simple

method which he pursued in the premises to the satisfaction of the

astronomer, the latter next inquired after his rough drafts of

calculation for determining the distance of the planet from the sun. “My

rough draughts! Paper is scarce with us. I am a joiner as well as an

astronomer. I write on my boards, and when I am done, I plane them off

and begin again; but I think I have preserved them.” On visiting the

shop, they found the board, with all its lines and numbers still

unobliterated!

The Parisian savant was now convinced that Lescarbault had really seen

the planet whose existence he had himself foretold. Turning to the

amateur astronomer, he revealed his personality, and congratulated his

humble brother on the magnificent discovery thus confirmed. It was the

event in the Orgères physician’s life. Honors poured in upon him. The

cross of the Legion of Honor was sent to him from Paris, and his name

was at once enrolled in the lists of the leading scientific academies of

Europe.

The new orb, whose revolution is performed in 19 days, 17 hours, has

been felicitously named Vulcan. If objection be offered to the selection

of names for the planets from “Olympus’ dread hierarchy,” it must at

least be acknowledged that there is a peculiar fitness in their

distribution.

INGENIOUS STRATAGEM OF COLUMBUS

Thou Luther of the darkened deep!

Nor less intrepid, too, than he

Whose courage broke earth’s bigot sleep,

While thine unbarred the sea!

During the fourth voyage of Columbus, while prosecuting his discoveries

among the West India Islands and along the coast of the continent, his

vessels, from continual subjection to tempestuous weather, and being, to

use his own expression, “bored by the worms as full of holes as a

honey-comb,” were reduced to mere wrecks, unable any longer to keep the

sea, and were finally stranded on the shore of Jamaica. Being beyond the

possibility of repair, they were fitted up for the temporary use of

Columbus, who was in feeble health, and of such of his crew as were

disabled by sickness, those who were well being sent abroad for

assistance and supplies. Their immediate wants were amply provided for,

Diego Mendez having made arrangements with the natives for a daily

exchange of knives, combs, beads, fish-hooks, &c., for cassava bread,

fish, and other provisions. In the course of a short time, however,

provisions on the island became scarce, and the supplies began gradually

to fall off. The arrangements for the daily delivery of certain

quantities were irregularly attended to, and finally ceased entirely.

The Indians no longer thronged to the harbor with provisions, and often

refused them when applied for. The Spaniards were obliged to forage

about the neighborhood for their daily food, but found more and more

difficulty in procuring it; and now, in addition to their other causes

of despondency, they began to entertain horrible apprehensions of

famine.

The admiral heard the melancholy forebodings of his men, and beheld the

growing evil, but was at a loss for a remedy. To resort to force was an

alternative full of danger, and of but temporary efficacy. It would

require all those who were well enough to bear arms to sally forth,

while he and the rest of the infirm would be left defenceless on board

the wreck, exposed to the vengeance of the natives.

In the mean time, the scarcity daily increased. The Indians perceived

the wants of the white men, and had learned from them the art of making

bargains. They asked ten times the former quantity of European articles

for a given amount of provisions, and brought their supplies in scanty

quantities, to enhance the eagerness of the Spaniards. At length even

this relief ceased, and there was an absolute distress for want of food,

the natives withholding all provisions, in hopes either of starving the

admiral and his people, or of driving them from the island.

In this extremity, a fortunate idea suddenly presented itself to

Columbus. From his knowledge of astronomy, he ascertained that within

three days there would be a total eclipse of the moon, in the early part

of the night. He sent, therefore, an Indian of the island of Hispaniola,

who served as his interpreter, to summon the principal caciques to a

grand conference, appointing for it the day of the eclipse. When all

were assembled, he told them, by his interpreter, that he and his

followers were worshippers of a deity who lived in the skies; that this

deity favored such as did well, but punished all transgressors; that, as

they must all have noticed, he had protected Diego Mendez and his

companions in their voyage, they having gone in obedience to the orders

of their commander, but that, on the other hand, he had visited

Francisco de Porras and his companions with all kinds of crosses and

afflictions, in consequence of their rebellion; that this great deity

was incensed against the Indians who had refused or neglected to furnish

his faithful worshippers with provisions, and intended to chastise them

with pestilence and famine. Lest they should disbelieve this warning, a

signal would be given that very night, in the heavens. They would behold

the moon change its color, and gradually lose its light,—a token of the

fearful punishment which awaited them.

Many of the Indians were alarmed at the solemnity of this prediction;

others treated it with scoffing: all, however, awaited with solicitude

the coming of the night, and none with more than Columbus himself, who

was distracted with anxiety lest the weather should prove cloudy or

rainy. Imagine his gratitude when the evening sky appeared undimmed by a

cloud! When the time arrived, and the natives beheld a dark shadow

stealing over the moon, they began to tremble. Their fears increased

with the progress of the eclipse; and when they saw mysterious darkness

covering the whole face of nature, there were no bounds to their terror.

Seizing upon whatever provisions they could procure, they hurried to the

ships, uttering cries and lamentations. They threw themselves at the

feet of Columbus, implored him to intercede with his God to avert the

threatened calamities, and assured him that thenceforth they would bring

him whatever he required. Columbus told them that he would retire and

commune with the deity. Shutting himself up in his cabin, he remained

there during the increase of the eclipse, the forests and shores all the

while resounding with the howlings and supplications of the savages.

When the eclipse was about to diminish, he came forth and informed the

natives that he had interceded for them with his God, who, on condition

of their fulfilling their promises, had deigned to pardon them; in sign

of which he would withdraw the darkness from the moon.

When the Indians saw that planet restored presently to its brightness

and rolling in all its beauty through the firmament, they overwhelmed

the admiral with thanks for his intercession, and repaired to their

homes, joyful at having escaped such great disasters. They now regarded

Columbus with awe and reverence, as a man in the peculiar favor and

confidence of the Deity, since he knew upon earth what was passing in

the heavens. They hastened to propitiate him with gifts, supplies again

arrived daily at the harbor, and from that time forward there was no

want of provisions.

A LESSON WORTH LEARNING.

The possibility of a great change being introduced by very slight

beginnings may be illustrated by a tale which Lockman tells of a vizier,

who, having offended his master, was condemned to perpetual captivity in

a lofty tower. At night his wife came to weep below his window. “Cease

your grief,” said the sage: “go home for the present, and return hither

when you have procured a live black beetle, together with a little

_ghee_, [or buffalo’s butter,] three clews,—one of the finest silk,

another of stout pack-thread, and another of whip-cord; finally, a stout

coil of rope.” When she again came to the foot of the tower, provided

according to her husband’s demands, he directed her to touch the head of

the insect with a little of the _ghee_, to tie one end of the silk

thread around him, and to place him on the wall of the tower. Attracted

by the smell of the butter, which he conceived to be in store somewhere

above him, the beetle continued to ascend till he reached the top, and

thus put the vizier in possession of the end of the silk thread, who

drew up the pack-thread by means of the silk, the small cord by means of

the pack-thread, and, by means of the cord, a stout rope capable of

sustaining his own weight,—and so at last escaped from the place of his

duress.

CHOOSING A KING.

The Tyrians having been much weakened by long wars with the Persians,

their slaves rose in a body, slew their masters and their children, took

possession of their property, and married their wives. The slaves,

having thus obtained everything, consulted about the choice of a king,

and agreed that he who should first discern the sun rise should be king.

One of them, being more merciful than the rest, had in the general

massacre spared his master, Straton, and his son, whom he hid in a cave;

and to his old master he now resorted for advice as to this competition.

Straton advised his slave that when others looked to the east he should

look toward the west. Accordingly, when the rebel tribe had all

assembled in the fields, and every man’s eyes were fixed upon the east,

Straton’s slave, turning his back upon the rest, looked only westward.

He was scoffed at by every one for his absurdity, but immediately he

espied the sunbeams upon the high towers and chimneys in the city, and,

announcing the discovery, claimed the crown as his reward.

KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT.

_An old and formerly very popular ballad.—Percy Reliques._

An ancient story Ile tell you anon

Of a notable prince, that was called King John;

And he ruled England with maine and with might,

For he did great wrong, and mainteined little right.

And Ile tell you a story, a story so merrye,

Concerning the Abbot of Canterburye;

How for his house-keeping, and high renowne,

They rode poste for him to fair London towne.

An hundred men, the king did heare say,

The abbot kept in his house every day;

And fifty gold chaynes, without any doubt,

In velvet coates waited the abbot about.

How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee,

Thou keepest a farre better house than mee,

And for thy house-keeping and high renowne,

I fear thou work’st treason against my crown.

My liege, quo’ the abbot, I would it were knowne,

I never spend nothing but what is my owne;

And I trust your grace will doe me no deere

For spending of my owne true-gotten geere.

Yes, yes, father abbot, your fault it is highe,

And now for the same thou needest must dye;

For except thou canst answer me questions three,

Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie.

And first, quo’ the king, when I’m in this stead,

With my crowne of golde so faire on my head,

Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe,

Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe.

Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt,

How soone I may ride the whole world about;

And at the third question thou must not shrink,

But tell me here truly what I do think.

O, these are hard questions for my shallow witt,

Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet;

But if you will give me but three weeks space,

Ile do my endeavour to answer your grace.

Now three weeks space to thee will I give,

And that is the longest time thou hast to live;

For if thou dost not answer my questions three,

Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to mee.

Away rode the abbot, all sad at that word,

And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford;

But never a doctor there was so wise

That could with his learning an answer devise.

Then home rode the abbot, of comfort so cold,

And he mett his shepheard agoing to fold:

How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home:

What newes do you bring us from good King John?

Sad newes, sad newes, shepheard, I must give:

That I have but three days more to live;

For if I do not answer him questions three,

My head will be smitten from my bodie.

The first is to tell him there in that stead,

With his crowne of golde so fair on his head,

Among all his liege-men so noble of birthe,

To within one penny of what he is worthe.

The second, to tell him, without any doubt,

How soone he may ride this whole world about;

And at the third question I must not shrinke,

But tell him there truly what he does thinke.

Now cheare up, sire abbot: did you never hear yet,

That a fool he may learne a wise man witt?

Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel,

And Ile ride to London to answere your quarrel.

Nay, frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee,

I am like your lordship, as ever may bee;

And if you will but lend me your gowne,

There is none shall knowe us in fair London towne.

Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have,

With sumptuous array most gallant and brave;

With crozier, and mitre, and rochet, and cope,

Fit to appeare ’fore our fader the Pope.

Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say,

’Tis well thou’rt come back to keepe thy day;

For and if thou canst answer my questions three,

Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee.

And first, when thou seest me here in this stead,

With my crowne of golde so fair on my head,

Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe,

Tell me to one penny what I am worthe.

For thirty pence our Saviour was sold

Among the false Jewes, as I have bin told;

And twenty-nine is the worth of thee,

For I think thou art one penny worser than hee.

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,

I did not think I had been worth so littel!

Now secondly, tell me, without any doubt,

How soone I may ride this whole world about.

You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,

Until the next morning he riseth againe;

And then your grace need not make any doubt

But in twenty-four hours you’ll ride it about.

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone,

I did not think it could be gone so soone!

Now, from the third question thou must not shrinke,

But tell me here truly what I do thinke.

Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry;

You thinke I’m the abbot of Canterbury;

But I’m his poor shepheard, as plain you may see,

That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee.

The king he laughed, and swore by the masse,

Ile make thee lord abbot this day in his place!

Naye naye, my liege, be not in such speede,

For alacke, I can neither write nor reade.

Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee,

For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee;

And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home,

Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John.

The Fancies of Fact.

THE WOUNDS OF JULIUS CÆSAR.

“Look! in this place ran Cassius’ dagger through:

See what a rent the envious Casca made:

Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabbed.”

At a meeting of the French Academy of Medicine, a few years ago, a

curious paper was read, on behalf of M. Dubois, of Amiens, entitled

“Investigations into the death of Julius Cæsar.” M. Dubois having looked

up the various passages referring to this famous historic incident to be

found in Dion Cassius, Plutarch, Suetonius, Appian, &c., and compared

them with one another, has fixed the spots where the four first wounds

were inflicted, and the names of the conspirators who inflicted them.

The first blow, struck by one of the brothers Casca, produced a slight

wound underneath the left clavicle; the second, struck by the other

Casca, penetrated the walls of the thorax toward the right; Cassius

inflicted the third wound in the face. Decimus Brutus gave the fourth

stab in the region of the groin. Contrary to the general opinion, Marcus

Brutus, though one of the conspirators, did not strike the dictator.

After the first blows Cæsar fainted, and then all the conspirators

hacked his body. He was carried by three slaves in a litter to his

house. Anstistius, the physician, was called in and found thirty-five

wounds, only one of which was in his opinion fatal, that of the second

Casca.

BILLS FOR STRANGE SERVICES.

The bill of the Cirencester painter, mentioned by Bishop Horne, (_Essays

and Thoughts_,) is as follows:—

Mr. Charles Terrebee

To Joseph Cook, Dr.

To mending the Commandments, altering the Belief, and making a

new Lord’s Prayer £1—1—0

Here is a Carpenter’s bill of the Fifteenth Century, copied from the

records of an old London Church:—

s. d.

Item. To screwynge a home on e/y Divil, and glueinge a bitt

on hys tayle vij

Item. To repayring e/y Vyrginne Marye before and behynde, &

makynge a new Chylde ij viij

LAW LOGIC.

Judge Blackstone says, in his _Commentaries_ (Vol. i. ch. xviii.), that

every Bishop, Parson or Vicar is _a Corporation_. Lord Coke asserts, in

his Reports (10. Rep. 32,) that “_a Corporation has no soul_.” Upon

these premises, the logical inference would be that neither Bishops,

Parsons nor Vicars have souls.

RECIPROCAL CONVERSION.

A curious case of mixed process of conversion was that of the two

brothers, Dr. John Reynold’s, King’s Professor at Oxford, in 1630, a

zealous Roman Catholic, and Dr. Wm. Reynolds, an eminent Protestant.

They were both learned men, and as brothers held such affectionate

relations, that the deadly heresies of which each regarded the other as

the victim were matters of earnest and pleading remonstrance between

them by discussion and correspondence. The pains and zeal of each were

equally rewarded. The Roman Catholic brother became an ardent

Protestant, and the Protestant brother became a Roman Catholic.

PITHY PRAYER.

We are indebted to Hume for the preservation of a short prayer, which he

says was that of Lord Astley, before he charged at Edge-hill. It ran

thus: “O Lord, thou knowest how busy I must be this day; if I forget

thee, do not thou forget me.” And Hume adds, “There were certainly much

longer prayers in the Parliamentary army, but I doubt if there was as

good a one.”

MELROSE BY SUNLIGHT.

The beautiful description of the appearance of the ruins of Melrose

Abbey by moonlight, in the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_, has led thousands

to visit the scene “when silver edges the imagery,” yet it is worth

noting that the author never saw the ruined pile by “the pale

moonlight.” Bernard Barton once wrote to Scott to request him to favor a

young lady with a copy of the lines in his own handwriting. Sir Walter

complied, but substituted for the concluding lines of the original the

following:—

“Then go—and muse with deepest awe

On what the writer never saw;

Who would not wander ’neath the moon

To see what he could see at noon.”

BACK ACTION.

Alphonse Karr, in his _Guêpes_, speaking of the dexterities of the legal

profession, relates a pleasant anecdote of the distinguished lawyer,

afterward deputy, M. Chaix d’Est-Ange. He was employed in a case where

both the parties were old men. Referring to his client, he said: “He has

attained that age, when the mind, freed from the passions, and tyranny

of the body, takes a higher flight, and soars in a purer and serener

air.” Later in his speech, he found occasion to allude to the opposite

party, of whom he remarked: “I do not deny his natural intelligence; but

he has reached an age in which the mind participates in the

enfeeblement, the decrepitude, and the degradation of the body.”

THE AUDITORIUMS OF THE LAST CENTURY.

When we read of Patrick Henry’s wonderful displays of eloquence, we

naturally figure to ourselves a spacious interior and a great crowd of

rapt listeners. But, in truth, those of his orations which quickened or

changed the march of events, and the thrill of which has been felt in

the nerves of four generations, were all delivered in small rooms and to

few hearers, never more than one hundred and fifty. The first thought of

the visitor to St. John’s Church in Richmond, is: Could it have been

_here_, in this oaken chapel of fifty or sixty pews, that Patrick Henry

delivered the greatest and best known of all his speeches? Was it here

that he uttered those words of doom, so unexpected, so unwelcome, “We

must fight”? Even here. And the words were spoken in a tone and manner

worthy of the men to whom they were addressed—with quiet and profound

solemnity.

TRUE FORM OF THE CROSS.

The ancient and ignominious punishment of crucifixion was abolished by

the Roman Emperor Constantine the Great, who thought it indecent and

irreligious that the Cross should be used for the putting to death of

the vilest offenders, while he himself erected it as a trophy, and

esteemed it the noblest ornament of his diadem and military standards.

In consequence of his decree, crucifixion has scarcely been witnessed in

Europe for the last 1500 years. Those painters, sculptors, poets and

writers who have attempted to describe it have, therefore, followed

their own imagination or vague tradition rather than the evidence of

history. But they could hardly do otherwise, because the writings of the

early fathers of the Church and of pagan historians were not generally

accessible to them until after the revival of learning in the Fifteenth

Century, and because the example of depicting the cross once given had

been religiously followed by the earliest painters and sculptors, and

universally accepted without question; and to object to the generally

received form would have been deemed sacrilegious. These two reasons may

have been sufficient to deter the great artists of the Sixteenth and

Seventeenth Centuries from making any change; there may, however, have

been a third, quite as potent (if not more so), and that is that the

introduction of the lower projecting beam, _astride_ of which the

crucified person was _seated_, would have been both inartistic and

indecent, yet this third piece was invariably used when the punishment

was inflicted, except in the case where the sufferer was crucified with

the head downward. The researches of two eminent scholars of the

Seventeenth Century—Salmasius and Lipsius—have put it beyond a doubt

that the cross consisted of a strong upright post, not much taller than

a man of lofty stature, which was sharpened at the lower end, by which

it was fixed into the ground, having a short bar or stake projecting

from its middle, and a longer transverse beam firmly joined to the

upright post near the top. The condemned person was made to carry his

cross to the place of execution, after having been first whipped; he was

then stripped of his clothing, and offered a cup of medicated wine, to

impart firmness or alleviate pain. He was then made to sit astride the

middle bar, and his limbs, having been bound with cords, the legs to the

upright beam, the arms to the transverse, were finally secured by

driving large iron spikes through the hands and feet. The cross was then

fixed in its proper position, and the sufferer was left to die, not so

much from pain (as is generally supposed) as from exhaustion, or heat,

or cold, or hunger, or wild beasts, unless (as was usually the case) his

sufferings were put an end to by burning, stoning, suffocation, breaking

the bones, or piercing the vital organs. If left alone he generally

survived two days or three, and there are cases recorded where the

sufferer lingered till the fifth day before dying.