When a superstition is once impressed strongly upon the popular
credulity, the fiction always assumes the shape and form which the
peculiar imagination of the country is constituted to body forth.
This faculty depends so much on climate, temperament, religion, and
occupation, that the notions entertained of supernatural beings, though
generally based upon one broad feature peculiar to all countries, differ
so essentially respecting the form, character, habits, and powers of
these beings, that they appear to have been drawn from sources widely
removed. To an inquiring mind there can be no greater proof than this of
their being nothing but the creations of our own brain, and of assuming
that shape only which has uniformly been impressed upon our imagination
at the precise period of life when such impressions are strongest and
most permanent, and the reason which ought to combat and investigate
them least capable of doing so. If these inane bugbears possessed the
consistence of truth and reality, their appearance to mankind would be
always uniform, unchangeable, and congruous; but they are beheld, so to
speak, through different prejudices and impressions, and consequently
change with the media through which they are seen. Hence their different
shape, character, and attributes in different countries, and the frequent
absence of rational analogy with respect to them even in the same.
Where now are the multitudinous creations of the old Greek and Roman
mythologies? Where are their Lares, their Penates, their Fauns, Satyrs,
Nymphs, Dryads, Hamadryads, Gods, and Goddesses? And yet the peasantry
of the two most enlightened nations of antiquity were so firmly fixed in
a belief of their distinct and individual existence, that the worship of
them formed an essential part of their religion. Where are they now? And
who believes in the existence of a Faun, a Dryad, or a Hamadryad? They
melted into what they were--nothing--before the lustre of Revelation,
which, by bringing the truth of immortality to light, banished the whole
host of such incongruous monsters from the earth, and impressed the
imagination of mankind with truer notions and simpler imagery. The pure
but severe morality of the Christian religion, by making man sensible of
his responsibility in another life, opened up to the good and rational
the bright hopes of future happiness. But we have our fears as well as
our hopes, and as these preponderate in proportion to our fitness for
death, so will we view the world that is to come either with joy or
terror. Every truth is abused and perverted by man’s moral delinquencies:
and the consequence is, that an idle fear of ghosts and apparitions is an
abuse of the doctrine of our immortality. Judgment and eternal life were
brought near us by Revelation, but we fear them more than we love them,
and hence the terrors of our imagination on thinking of any thing that
is beyond the grave. As the old monsters of the mythologies disappeared
before reason and religion, so also will ghosts, fairies, and all such
nonsense, vanish when men shall be taught to reason upon them as they
ought, and to entertain higher notions of God than to believe that his
purposes could be thwarted by the power or malignity of a fairy. Why,
what, for instance, is every ghost story that we have heard, granting
them to be true, but a direct revelation, and so far antiscriptural and
impious? What new truth has the information of a spectre ever conveyed
to us? What knowledge of futurity beyond that which we already know have
these dialogues with the dead ever brought to light? What view of our
moral, religious, or social duties, with which we were not acquainted
before, have apparitions ever taught us? None. Away, then, with these
empty and pusillanimous chimeras, which are but the mere hallucinations
of a weak judgment, acted upon and misled by a strong fancy or a guilty
conscience.
The force of imagination alone is capable of conjuring up and shaping
out that which never had existence, and that too with as much apparent
distinctness and truth as if it was real. We all know that in the ease of
a female who is pregnant, a strong impression made upon the imagination
of the mother will be visible on the body of the child. And why?
Because she firmly believes that it will be so. If she did not, no such
impression would be communicated to the infant. But when such effects
are produced in physical matters, what will not the consequence be in
those that are purely mental and imaginative? Go to the lunatic asylum
or the madhouse, and there it may be seen in all its unreal delusion and
positive terror.
Before I close this portion of my little disquisition, I shall relate
an anecdote connected with it, of which I myself was the subject. Some
years ago I was seized with typhus fever of so terrific a character,
that for a long time I lay in a state hovering between life and death,
unconscious as a log, without either hope or fear. At length a crisis
came, and, aided by the strong stamina of an unbroken constitution, I
began to recover, and every day to regain my consciousness more and
more. As yet, however, I was very far from being out of danger, for I
felt the malady to be still so fiery and oppressive, that I was not
surprised when told that the slightest mistake either in my medicine or
regimen would have brought on a relapse. At all events, thank God, my
recovery advanced; but, at the same time, the society that surrounded me
was wild and picturesque in the highest degree. Never indeed was such
a combination of the beautiful and hideous seen, unless in the dreams
of a feverish brain like mine, or the distorted reason of a madman. At
one side of my bed, looking in upon me with a most hellish and satanic
leer, was a face, compared with which the vulgar representations of the
devil are comeliness itself, whilst on the other was a female countenance
beaming in beauty that was ethereal--angelic. Thus, in fact, was my
whole bed surrounded; for they stood as thickly as they could, sometimes
flitting about and crushing and jostling one another, but never leaving
my bed for a moment. Here were the deformed features of a dwarf, there an
angel apparently fresh from heaven; here was a gigantic demon with his
huge mouth placed longitudinally in his face, and his nose across it,
whilst the Gorgon-like coxcomb grinned as if he were vain, and had cause
to be vain, of his beauty. This fellow annoyed me much, and would, I
apprehend, have done me an injury, only for the angel on the other side.
He made perpetual attempts to come at me, but was as often repulsed by
that seraphic creature. Indeed, I feared none of them so much as I did
the Gorgon, who evidently had a design on me, and would have rendered my
situation truly pitiable, were it not for the protection of the seraph,
who always succeeded in keeping him aloof. At length he made one furious
rush as if he meant to pounce upon me, and in self-preservation I threw
my right arm to the opposite side, and, grasping the seraph by the nose,
I found I had caught my poor old nurse by that useful organ, while she
was in the act of offering me a drink. For several days I was in this
state, the victim of images produced by disease, and the inflammatory
excitement of brain consequent upon it. Gradually, however, they began
to disappear, and I felt manifest relief, for they were succeeded by
impressions as amusing now as the former had been distressing. I imagined
that there was a serious dispute between my right foot and my left, as
to which of them was entitled to precedency; and, what was singular, my
right leg, thigh, hand, arm and shoulder, most unflinchingly supported
the right foot, as did the other limbs the left. The head alone, with
an impartiality that did it honour, maintained a strict neutrality. The
truth was, I imagined that all my limbs were endowed with a consciousness
of individual existence, and I felt quite satisfied that each and all
of them possessed the faculty of reason. I have frequently related this
anecdote to my friends; but, I know not how it happened, I never could
get them to look upon it in any other light than as a specimen of that
kind of fiction which is indulgently termed “drawing the long bow.” It
is, however, as true as that I now exist, and relate the fact; and,
what is more, the arguments which I am about to give are substantially
the same that were used by the rival claimants and their respective
supporters. The discussion, I must observe, was opened by the left foot,
as being the discontented party, and, like all discontented parties, its
language was so very violent, that, had its opinions prevailed, there
is no doubt but they would have succeeded in completely overturning my
constitution.
_Left foot._ Brother (addressing the right with a great show of
affection, but at the same time with a spasmodic twitch of strong
discontentment in the big toe), Brother, I don’t know how it is that you
have during our whole lives always taken the liberty to consider yourself
a better foot than I am; and I would feel much obliged to you if you
would tell me why it is that you claim this superiority over me. Are we
not both equal in every thing?
_Right foot._ Be quiet, my dear brother. We _are_ equal in every thing,
and why, therefore, are you discontented?
_Left foot._ Because you presume to consider yourself the better and more
useful foot.
_Right foot._ Let us not dispute, my dear brother; each is equally
necessary to the other. What could I do without _you_? Nothing, or at
least very little; and what could you do without _me_? Very little
indeed. We were not made to quarrel.
_Left foot_ (_very hot_). I am not disposed to quarrel, but I trust you
will admit that I am as good as you, every way your equal, and begad
in many things your superior. Do you hear that? _I_ am not disposed to
quarrel, you rascal, and how dare you say so?
Here there was a strong sensation among all the right members, who felt
themselves insulted through this outrage offered to their chief supporter.
_Right foot._ Since you choose to insult me without provocation, I must
stand upon my right----
_Left_ (_shoving off to a distance_). RIGHT!--there, again, what right
have you to be termed “_right_” any more than I?--(“Bravo!--go it,
_Left_; pitch into him; we are equal to him and his,” from the friends of
the Left. The matter was now likely to become serious, and to end in a
row.)
“What’s the matter there below?” said the Head; “don’t be fools, and make
yourselves ridiculous. What would either of you be with a crutch or a
cork-leg? which is only another name for a wooden shoe, any day.”
_Right foot._ Since he provokes me, I tell him, that ever since the world
began, the prejudice of mankind in all nations has been in favour of the
right foot and the right hand. (Strong sensation among the left members).
Surely he ought not to be ignorant of the proverb, which says, when a man
is peculiarly successful in any thing he undertakes, “that man knew how
to go about it--_he put the right foot foremost_!” (Cheers from the right
party.)
_Left._ That’s mere special pleading--the right foot there does not mean
you, because you happen to be termed such; but it means the foot which,
from its position under the circumstances, happens to be the proper one.
(Loud applause from the left members.)
_Right foot._ You know you are weak and feeble and awkward when compared
to me, and can do little of yourself. (Hurra! that’s a poser!)
_Left._ Why, certainly, I grant I am the gentleman, and that you are very
useful to me, you plebeian. (“Bravo!” from the left hand; “ours is the
aristocratic side--hear the operatives! Come, hornloof, what have you to
say to that?”)
_Right hand_ (_addressing his opponent._) You may be the aristocratic
party if you will, but we are the useful. Who are the true defenders of
the constitution, you poor sprig of nobility?
_Left hand._ The heart is with us, the seat and origin of life and power.
Can you boast as much? (Loud cheers.)
_Right foot._ Why, have you never heard it said of an excellent and
worthy man--a fellow of the right sort, a trump--as a mark of his
sterling qualities, “his heart’s in the _right_ place!” How then can it
be in the _left_? (Much applause.)
_Left._ Which is an additional proof that mine is _that_ place and not
yours. Yes, you rascal, we _have_ the heart, and you cannot deny it.
_Right._ We admit he resides with you, but it is merely because you
are the weaker side, and require his protection. The best part of his
energies are given to us, and we are satisfied.
_Left._ You admit, then, that our party keeps yours in power, and why not
at once give up your right to precedency?--why not resign?
_Right._ Let us put it to the vote.
_Left._ With all my heart.
It was accordingly put to the vote; but on telling the house, it was
found that the parties were equal. Both then appealed very strenuously to
Mr Speaker, the Head, who, after having heard their respective arguments,
shook himself very gravely, and informed them (much after the manner of
Sir Roger De Coverley) that “much might be said on both sides.” “But one
thing,” said he, “I beg both parties to observe, and very seriously to
consider. In the first place, there would be none of this nonsense about
precedency, were it not for the feverish and excited state in which you
all happen to be at present. If you have common sense enough to wait
until you all get somewhat cooler, there is little doubt but you will
feel that you cannot do without each other. As for myself, as I said
before, I give no specific opinion upon disputes which would never have
taken place were it not for the heat of feeling which is between you.
I know that much might and has been said upon both sides; but as for
me, I nod significantly to both parties, and say nothing. One thing,
however, I do say, and it is this--take care you, _right foot_, and you,
_left foot_, that by pursuing this senseless quarrel too far it may not
happen that you will both get stretched and tied up together in a wooden
surtout, when precedency will be out of the question, and nothing but a
most pacific stillness shall remain between you for ever. I shake, and
have concluded.”
Now, this case, which as an illustration of my argument possesses a good
deal of physiological interest, is another key to the absurd doctrine of
apparitions. Here was I at the moment strongly and seriously impressed
with a belief that a quarrel was taking place between my two feet about
the right of going foremost. Nor was this absurdity all. I actually
believed for the time that all my limbs were endowed with separate life
and reason. And why? All simply because my whole system was in a state
of unusually strong excitement, and the nerves and blood stimulated by
disease into a state of derangement. Such, in fact, is the condition in
which every one must necessarily be who thinks he sees a spirit; and
this, which is known to be an undeniable fact, being admitted, it follows
of course that the same causes will, other things being alike, produce
the same effects. For instance, does not the terror of an apparition
occasion a violent and increased action of the heart and vascular system,
similar to that of fever? Does not the very hair stand on end, not merely
when the imaginary ghost is seen, but when the very apprehension of it is
strong? Is not the action of the brain, too, accelerated in proportion to
that of the heart, and the nervous system in proportion to that of both?
What, then, is this but a fever for the time being, which is attended by
the very phantasms the fear of which created it; for in this case it so
happens that the cause and effect mutually reproduce each other.
The conversation detailed above is but a very meagre outline of what was
said during the discussion. The arguments were far more subtle than the
mere skeletons of them here put down, and very plentifully sprinkled
over with classical quotations, both of Latin and Greek, which are not
necessary now.
Hibbert mentions a case of imagination, which in a man is probably the
strongest and most unaccountable on record. It is that of a person--an
invalid--who imagined that at a certain hour of the day a carter or
drayman came into his bedroom, and, uncovering him, inflicted several
heavy stripes upon his body with the thong of his whip; and such was the
power of fancy here, that the marks of the lash were visible in black and
blue streaks upon his flesh. I am inclined to think, however, that this
stands very much in need of confirmation.
I have already mentioned a case of spectral illusion which occurred in
my native parish. I speak of Daly’s daughter, who saw what she imagined
to be the ghost of M’Kenna, who had been lost among the mountains. I
shall now relate another, connected with the fairies, of which I also
was myself an eye-witness. The man’s name, I think, was Martin, and he
followed the thoughtful and somewhat melancholy occupation of a weaver.
He was a bachelor, and wrought journey-work in every farmer’s house where
he could get employment; and notwithstanding his supernatural vision
of the fairies, he was considered to be both a quick and an excellent
workman. The more sensible of the country-people said he was deranged,
but the more superstitious of them maintained that he had a _Lianhan
Shee_, and saw them against his will. The Lianhan Shee is a malignant
fairy, which, by a subtle compact made with any one whom it can induce
by the fairest promises to enter into, secures a mastery over them by
inducing its unhappy victims to violate it; otherwise, it is and must be
like the oriental genie, their slave and drudge, to perform such tasks
as they wish to impose upon it. It will promise endless wealth to those
whom it is anxious to subjugate to its authority, but it is at once so
malignant and ingenious, that the party entering into the contract with
it is always certain by its manœuvres to break through his engagement,
and thus become slave in his turn. Such is the nature of this wild and
fearful superstition, which I think is fast disappearing, and is but
rarely known in the country. Martin was a thin pale man, when I saw him,
of a sickly look, and a constitution naturally feeble. His hair was a
light auburn, his beard mostly unshaven, and his hands of a singular
delicacy and whiteness, owing, I dare say, as much to the soft and easy
nature of his employment, as to his infirm health. In every thing else
he was as sensible, sober, and rational as any other man; but on the
topic of fairies, the man’s mania was peculiarly strong and immoveable.
Indeed, I remember that the expression of his eyes was singularly wild
and hollow, and his long narrow temples sallow and emaciated.
Now, this man did not lead an unhappy life, nor did the malady he
laboured under seem to be productive of either pain or terror to him,
although one might be apt to imagine otherwise. On the contrary, he
and the fairies maintained the most friendly intimacy, and their
dialogues--which I fear were woefully one-sided ones--must have been a
source of great pleasure to him, for they were conducted with much mirth
and laughter, on his part at least.
“Well, Frank, when did you see the fairies?”
“Whist! there’s two dozen of them in the shop (the weaving shop) this
minute. There’s a little ould fellow sittin’ on the top of the sleys, an’
all to be rocked while I’m weavin’. The sorrow’s in them, but they’re the
greatest little skamers alive, so they are. See, there’s another of them
at my dressin’[1] noggin. Go out o’ that, you _shingawn_; or, bad cess to
me if you don’t, but I’ll lave you a mark. Ha! out, you thief you!”
“Frank, aren’t you afear’d o’ them?”
“Is it me? Arra, what ’ud I be afear’d o’ them for? Sure they have no
power over me.”
“And why haven’t they, Frank?”
“Becaise I was baptized against them.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Why, the priest that christened me was tould by my father to put in
the prayer against the fairies--an’ a priest can’t refuse it when he’s
axed--an’ he did so. Begorra, it’s well for me that he did--(let the
tallow alone, you little glutton--see, there’s a weeny thief o’ them
aitin’ my tallow)--becaise, you see, it was their intention to make me
king o’ the fairies.”
“Is it possible?”
“Devil a lie in it. Sure you may ax them, an’ they’ll tell you.”
“What size are they, Frank?”
“Oh, little wee fellows, with green coats an’ the purtiest little
shoes ever you seen. There’s two o’ them--both ould acquaintances o’
mine--runnin’ along the yarn beam. That ould fellow with the bob wig is
called Jim Jam, an’ the other chap with the three-cocked hat is called
Nickey Nick. Nickey plays the pipes. Nickey, give us a tune, or I’ll
malivogue you--come now, ‘Lough Erne Shore.’ Whist, now--listen!”
The poor fellow, though weaving as fast as he could all the time, yet
bestowed every possible mark of attention to the music, and seemed to
enjoy it as much as if it had been real. But who can tell whether that
which we look upon as a privation may not after all be a fountain of
increased happiness, greater perhaps than any which we ourselves enjoy? I
forget who the poet is who says,
Mysterious are thy laws;
The vision’s finer than the view;
Her landscape Nature never drew
So fair as fancy draws.
Many a time when a mere child not more than six or seven years of age,
have I gone as far as Frank’s weaving-shop, in order, with a heart
divided between curiosity and fear, to listen to his conversation with
the good people. From morning till night his tongue was going almost as
incessantly as his shuttle; and it was well known that at night, whenever
he awoke out of his sleep, the first thing he did was to put out his hand
and push them as it were off his bed.
“Go out o’ this, you thieves you--go out o’ this, now, an’ let me alone.
Nickey, is this any time to be playin’ the pipes, and me wants to sleep?
Go off, now--troth if yez do, you’ll see what I’ll give yez to-morrow.
Sure I’ll be makin’ new dressins; and if yez behave dacently, maybe I’ll
lave yez the scrapin’ o’ the pot. There now. Och! poor things, they’re
dacent crathurs. Sure they’re all gone barrin’ poor Red-cap, that doesn’t
like to lave me.” And then the harmless monomaniac would fall back into
what we trust was an innocent slumber.
About this time there was said to have occurred a very remarkable
circumstance, which gave poor Frank a vast deal of importance among the
neighbours. A man named Frank Thomas, the same in whose house Mickey
McGrory held the first dance at which I ever saw him, as detailed in a
former number of this Journal--this man, I say, had a child sick, but of
what complaint I cannot now remember, nor is it of any importance. One of
the gables of Thomas’s house was built against or rather into a Forth or
Rath called Towny, or properly Tonagh Forth. It was said to be haunted
by the fairies, and what gave it a character peculiarly wild in my eyes,
was, that there were on the southern side of it two or three little green
mounds, which were said to be the graves of unchristened children, over
which it was considered dangerous and unlucky to pass. At all events, the
season was mid-summer; and one evening about dusk, during the illness
of the child, the noise of a handsaw was heard upon the Forth. This
was considered rather strange, and after a little time, a few of those
who were assembled at Frank Thomas’s went to see who it could be that
was sawing in such a place, or what they could be sawing at so late an
hour, for every one knew that there was none in the whole country about
them who would dare to cut down the few whitethorns that grew upon the
forth. On going to examine, however, judge of their surprise, when, after
surrounding and searching the whole place, they could discover no trace
of either saw or sawyer. In fact, with the exception of themselves, there
was no one, either natural or supernatural, visible. They then returned
to the house, and had scarcely sat down, when it was heard again within
ten yards of them. Another examination of the premises took place, but
with equal success. Now, however, while standing on the forth, they heard
the sawing in a little hollow, about a hundred and fifty yards below
them, which was completely exposed to their view, but they could see
nothing. A party of them immediately went down to ascertain if possible
what this singular noise and invisible labour could mean; but on arriving
at the spot, they heard the sawing, to which were now added hammering
and driving of nails, upon the forth above, whilst those who stood on
the forth continued to hear it in the hollow. On comparing notes, they
resolved to send down to Billy Nelson’s for Frank Martin, a distance only
of about eighty or ninety yards. He was soon on the spot, and without a
moment’s hesitation solved the enigma.
“’Tis the fairies,” said he. “I see them, and busy crathurs they are.”
“But what are they sawing, Frank?”
“They are makin’ a child’s coffin,” he replied; “they have the body
already made, an’ they’re now nailin’ the lid together.”
That night the child certainly died, and the story goes, that on the
second evening afterwards, the carpenter who was called upon to make
the coffin brought a table out from Thomas’s house to the forth, as a
temporary bench; and it is said that the sawing and hammering necessary
for the completion of his task were precisely the same which had been
heard the evening but one before--neither more nor less. I remember the
death of the child myself, and the making of its coffin, but I think that
the story of the supernatural carpenter was not heard in the village for
some months after its interment.
Frank had every appearance of a hypochondriac about him. At the time
I saw him, he might be about thirty-four years of age, but I do not
think, from the debility of his frame and infirm health, that he has
been alive for several years. He was an object of considerable interest
and curiosity, and often have I been present when he was pointed out to
strangers as “the man that could see the good people.” With respect to
his solution of the supernatural noise, that is easily accounted for.
This superstition of the coffin-making is a common one, and to a man like
him, whose mind was familiar with it, the illness of the child would
naturally suggest the probability of its death, which he immediately
associated with the imagery and agents to be found in his unhappy malady.
[1] The dressings are a species of sizy flummery, which is brushed into
the yarn to keep the thread round and even, and to prevent it from being
frayed by the friction of the reed.
* * * * *
ANTIQUITY OF RAILWAYS AND GAS.--Railways were used in Northumberland
in 1633, and Lord Keeper North mentions them in 1671 in his journey to
this country. A Mr Spedding, coal-agent to Lord Lonsdale, at Whitehaven,
in 1765, had the gas from his lordship’s coal-pits conveyed by pipes
into his office, for the purpose of lighting it, and proposed to the
magistrates of Whitehaven to convey the gas by pipes through the streets
to light the town, which they refused.--_Carlisle Journal._
* * * * *
THE HUNGARIAN NOBILITY.--There is no country under heaven where nobility
is at so low a par, or rather perhaps I should say, on so unequal a
basis; and I was so much amused by the classification lately bestowed
on it by a humorous friend of mine, to whom I had frankly declared my
inability to disentangle its mazes, that I will give it in his own words.
“The nobility of Hungary are of three orders--the mighty, the moderate,
and the miserable--the Esterhazys, the Batthyanyis, and such like, are
the capital of the column--the shaft is built of the less wealthy and
influential; and the base (and a very substantial one it is) is a curious
congeries of small landholders, herdsmen, vine-growers, waggoners,
and pig-drivers. Nay, you may be unlucky enough to get a _nemes_ as a
servant; and this is the most unhappy dilemma of all, for you cannot
solace yourself by beating him when he offends you, as he is protected by
his privileges, and he appeals to the Court of the Comitat for redress.
The country is indebted to Maria Theresa for this pleasant confusion;
who, when she repaid the valour of the Hungarian soldiers with a portion
of their own land, and a name to lend it grace, forgot that many of these
individuals were probably better swordsmen than proprietors; and instead
of limiting their patent of nobility to a given term of years, laid the
foundation of a state of things as inconvenient as it is absurd.”
I was immediately reminded by his closing remark of a most ridiculous
scene, which, although in itself a mere trifle, went far to prove the
truth of his position. My readers are probably aware that none pay tolls
in Hungary save the peasants; and it chanced that on one occasion, when
we were passing from Pesth to Buda over the bridge of boats, the carriage
was detained by some accidental stoppage just beside the tollkeeper’s
lodge, when our attention was arrested by a vehement altercation between
the worthy functionary, its occupant, and a little ragged urchin of 11 or
12 years of age, who had, as it appeared, attempted to pass without the
preliminary ceremony of payment.
The tollkeeper handled the supposed delinquent with some roughness as he
demanded his fee: but the boy stood his ground stoutly, and asserted his
free right of passage as a nobleman! The belligerent party pointed to the
heel-less shoes and ragged jerkin of the culprit, and smiled in scorn.
The lad for all reply bade him remove his hand from his collar, and let
him pass at his peril; and the tone was so assured in which he did so,
that the tollkeeper became grave, and looked somewhat doubtful; when
just at the moment up walked a sturdy peasant, who, while he paid his
kreutzer, saluted the young nobleman, and settled the point.
It was really broad farce. The respectably clad and comfortable looking
functionary loosed his hold in a moment, and the offending hand, as it
released the collar of the captive, lifted his hat, while he poured
out his excuses for an over-zeal, arising from his ignorance of the
personal identity of this young scion of an illustrious house, who
was magnanimously pleased to accept the apology, and to raise his own
dilapidated cap in testimony of his greatness of soul, as he walked away
in triumph. Cruikshank would have had food for a _chef d’œuvre_.--_Miss
Pardoe’s Hungary._
* * * * *
AFRICAN ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE.--On coming out of my hut at Fandah
one morning, I saw the king seated at the gate of his palace, surrounded
by his great men, administering justice. At a little distance, on the
grass, were two men and two women, who were charged with robbery. The
evidence had already been gone through before my arrival. The king was
the principal speaker, and when he paused, the whole court murmured
approbation. The younger woman made a long defence, and quite astonished
me by her volubility, variety of intonation, and graceful action. The
appeal, however, seemed to be in vain; for when she had finished, the
king, who had listened with great patience, passed sentence in a speech
of considerable length, delivered with great fluency and emphasis. In
many parts he was much applauded, except by the poor wretches, who heard
their doom with shrieks of despair. The king then retired, the court
broke up, and the people dispersed. None remained but the prisoners and a
decrepit old man, who, with many threats and some ceremony, administered
a small bowl of poison, prepared, I believe, from the leaves of a
venerable tree in the neighbourhood, which was hooped and propped all
round. The poor creatures received the potion on their knees, and before
they could be induced to swallow it, cast many a lingering look and last
farewell on the beautiful world from which a small draught was about to
separate them. They afterwards drank a prodigious quantity of water; and
when I next went out, the dose had done its deadly work. I cannot tell
how far justice was truly administered, but there was a great appearance
of it; and I must say that I never in any court saw a greater display of
decorum and dignity.--_Allan’s Views on the Niger._
* * * * *
THE PLANING-MACHINE ROOM IN MESSRS FAWCETT AND CO.’S ENGINE FACTORY,
LIVERPOOL.--In this room are valuable and elaborately contrived machines
for the planing or levelling of large plates, or other pieces of iron
or brass, so as to give them a smooth, true, and polished surface. The
article or piece to be planed is securely fixed by screw-bolts, &c. to
a horizontal iron table, perforated with holes for the insertion of the
bolts from beneath it in any required point, to suit the size or form
of the article. This table, when put in motion, travels backwards and
forwards with its load on two iron rails, or parallel slides. Over the
centre is perpendicularly fixed what is called the “planing tool,” an
instrument made of steel, somewhat in the form of a hook, with the point
so inclined as to present itself towards the surface of the metal to be
planed, as it approaches it on the table, so as, when all is adjusted,
to plough or plane it in narrow streaks or shavings as it passes under
it. The extremity of the tool is about half an inch to three quarters
in breadth, and being of a round form at the under side, and ground or
bevelled on the upper, presents a sort of point. If a plate of iron is to
be planed, the operation commences on the outer edge, and each movement
backwards and forwards of the table places it in such a position under
the tool, that another small parallel cut is made throughout its whole
length. The tool, in ordinary machines of this kind, is fixed so that
it cuts only in one direction, as the plate is drawn against its edge
or point, which is raised to allow of the backward motion of the plate.
A new patent has however been obtained for a great improvement in this
respect by Mr Whitworth, of Manchester, and several of his machines are
on Messrs Fawcett and Co.’s premises. In these, by a peculiarly beautiful
contrivance, the cutting instrument, the moment the plate passes under
it, “jumps” up a little in the box or case to which it is attached, and
instantly “turns about” in the opposite direction, and commences cutting
away, so that both backwards and forwards the operation goes on without
loss of time. The workmen very quaintly and appropriately call this new
planing tool “Jim Crow.” A workman attends to each of the machines; and
when the piece to be cut is fixed with great exactness on the moving
table by a spirit-level, he has nothing to do but to watch that it remain
so, and that the machinery work evenly and correctly. Where a very
smooth surface is required, the operation of planing is repeated, and
two plates thus finished will be so truly level, that they will adhere
together. It should be added, that so perfect are these machines, that
in addition to planing horizontally, they may be so adjusted as to plane
perpendicularly, or at any given angle.
* * * * *
The planet revolves for ever in its appointed orbit; and the noblest
triumph of mechanical philosophy is to have ascertained that the
perturbations of its course are all compensated within determined
periods, and its movement exempted from decay. But man, weak and erring
though he be, is still progressive in his moral nature. He does not move
round for ever in one unvarying path of moral action. The combinations of
his history exhibit not only the unity of the material system, but also
the continually advancing improvement belonging to beings of a higher
order.--_Miller’s “Modern History philosophically considered.”_
* * * * *
TO PREVENT HORSES’ FEET FROM CLOGGING UP WITH SNOW.--One pound of lard,
half a pound of tar, and two ounces of resin, simmered up together. Stop
the horses’ feet, just before starting, with this, which will prevent the
feet from balling.--_Suffolk Chronicle._
* * * * *
Conscience is merely our own judgment of the moral rectitude or turpitude
of our own actions.--_Locke._
* * * * *
Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at the
Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane, College
Green, Dublin--Agents:--R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley, Paternoster
Row, London; SIMMS and DINHAM, Exchange Street, Manchester;
C. DAVIES, North John Street, Liverpool; SLOCOMBE & SIMMS,
Leeds, FRASER and CRAWFORD, George Street, Edinburgh; and DAVID
ROBERTSON, Trongate, Glasgow.