Owl! that lovest the boding sky—
In the murky air,
What saw’st thou there?
For I heard, through the fog, thy screaming cry.
“The maple’s head
Was glowing red,
And red were the wings of the Autumn sky;
But a redder gleam
Rose from the stream,
That dabbled my feet, as I glided by!”
Owl! that lovest the stormy sky,
Speak! oh speak!
What crimson’d thy beak,
And hung on the lids of thy staring eye?
“’Twas blood! ’twas blood!
And it rose like a flood,
And for this I screamed as I glided by.”
Owl! that lovest the midnight sky,
Again, again—
Where are the twain?
Look! while the moon is hurrying by—
“In the thicket’s shade
The one is laid;
You may see, through the boughs, his moveless eye.”
Owl! that lovest the darkened sky,
A step beyond
From the silent pond,
There rose a low and murmuring cry
“O’er the water’s edge,
Through the trampled sedge
A bubble burst, and gurgled by;
My eyes were dim,
But I looked from the brim,
And I saw, in the weeds, a dead man lie!”
Owl! that lovest the moonless sky,
Where the casements blaze
With the faggot’s rays,
Look! oh look! what seest thou there?
Owl! what’s this?—
That snort and hiss?
And why do thy feathers shiver and stare?
“’Tis he! ’tis he!
He sits ’mid the three—
And a breathless woman is on the stair.”
Owl! that lovest the cloudy sky,
Where clank the chains
Through the prison panes
What there thou hearest tell to me!
“In her midnight dream,
’Tis a woman’s scream,
And she calls on one—on one of the three,”
Look in once more,
Through the grated door,
“’Tis a soul that prays in agony.”
Owl! that hatest the morning sky,
On thy pinions gray—
Away! away!
I must pray in charity,
From midnight chime,
To morning prime,
“_Miserere, Domine_.”
A Visit to the Royal Polytechnic Institution.
No sooner do we enter, and pay our shilling at the door, then “bang,
bang, bang” goes the gong—a Lecture on “a New Method of Blowing-up
Sunken Vessels” is announced. Do our young friends recollect the
circumstance of the sinking at Spithead of one of our largest
men-of-war, the “Royal George?” a very beautiful model of which is
to be found in the Museum for Shipping and Maritime Apparatus; the
circumstances are so well known, that we will presume you not to be
ignorant. Well, some years after the accident, a plan was projected by
Colonel Pasley, of the Royal Engineers, for raising the guns and other
valuables which were, of course, carried down with the ship; this plan
was founded upon the well-proved law of electricity—that if the wire
which conducts that wonderful agent be intercepted by a short piece
of platinum wire, exceedingly small in diameter, and placed within a
membrane impervious to water, and surrounded by a charge of gunpowder,
a partial impediment to the passage of the electric fluid necessarily
takes place, and the small platinum wire is made red-hot—and my young
friends well know that if a piece of red-hot wire be placed in contact
with gunpowder, that it will readily explode; hence, if a sufficient
charge be placed within the vessel, the explosion would separate the
timbers of the ship, and, by their floating properties, they would rise
to the surface, and leave behind any great weight, such as guns, &c.;
by the aid of the diver, then, they are attached to air cylinders,
and floated to the surface. But to accomplish this, there are many
reasons why more simplicity should be employed, and for this purpose
the Lecture we allude to was given, embracing as it does a more simple
plan. The invention is patented by a gentleman named Trestrail, of
Southampton, and is as follows:—An air-tight vessel is fitted up with
a coil of “fuse,” as it is called, consisting of a kind of flexible
tube filled with gunpowder, and coated with a pitchy substance, to
prevent its coming into contact with the water, which would, you know,
destroy its explosive condition. This fuse will continue to burn under
water for almost any distance, and was formerly used for the purpose
of blasting rocks, blowing up sunken vessels, &c.; but the adaptation
of Mr. Trestrail differs from this method, from the material or fuse
being in the case, which is to raise the object from the bottom, by
generating the gases contained in gunpowder, which gases are nitrogen,
carbonic oxide, sulphurous acid, deutoxide of nitrogen, and carbonic
acid gas, in different proportions. But this is going from our
subject—you must read Chemistry to understand this. However, these
gases force the water from the cylinders, and of course take its place;
then, you know that the specific gravity or weight of the gas is so
much less than the same bulk of water, that it has a buoyant property
and rises to the surface, bringing with it whatever, in the judgment
of the diver, it is capable of lifting. Many thousand pounds’ worth of
property is now lying at the bottom of the sea and rivers, which seems
a pity when so simple a method can bring them again to “_terra firma_.”
After this Lecture, which was illustrated in a large tank of water in
the centre of the Great Hall of the Institution, we walked around to
look at the immense collection of models of all new discoveries in
science. There was the magnificent model of the Britannia Bridge.—The
machinery, which commences by taking the cotton from the pod, cleans it
from the seed by means of rollers; then it is passed through another
instrument called a carding machine, being a series of wires so placed
as to tear the cotton asunder, and lay it in a beautiful sheet on the
surfaces of the wires; from thence it is collected by a most elegant
and ingenious contrivance, formed into a fillet, and then placed on
the roving frame; thence it passes into the spinning frame and becomes
thread, which is again used in an exhibition of the lace manufacture,
by a beautiful model machine.
In close proximity to this machine, we observe a model lighthouse,
fixed on a black substance for its base: this substance is very
curious, and requires a little explanation. In Trinidad, in the West
Indies, there is a Lake of Bitumen. A stream of this Bitumen (which you
know is a sort of pitch) flowed in distant ages, through a channel two
thousand yards in length to the beach, and thence six hundred yards
into the sea, carrying with it all the loose materials encountered
in its progress. This now constitutes a promontory, whereon the
action of the waves and atmosphere, under a tropical sun, have had no
deteriorating effect. This fact led to investigation, and now it is
used as foundations to lighthouses, piers, jetties, bridges, &c., as
well as water-pipes, instead of lead, which you know will combine
chemically with the constituents of water, and convert that water into
a deleterious compound. When Admiral, the Earl of Dundonald, (to whom
this pitch belongs,) was Commander-in-Chief of the West India Station,
he made many experiments on this wonder of nature, and has patented its
application to very many useful purposes; his lordship laid down, from
the lake to the shore, a series of pipes, which were manufactured by
his sailors, and which pipes enabled the ships on the station to obtain
excellent fresh water, without the difficulty of carrying it overland,
which, in that hot climate, would have been very inconvenient. These
pipes have been found as strong as iron ones of the same admeasurement.
It is also applied to the coating of the wires of the Electric
Telegraph with great advantage.
On we go to the upper gallery, and find the gigantic reflectors for
illustrating the laws of reflection of heat, light, &c., which,
singularly enough, are governed by the same law; sometimes by these
instruments a mutton-chop is placed in the focus of one of them, and at
one hundred feet distant a fire is placed in the other; the result is,
that the chop is cooked, or a candle may be lighted by the same means
at the same distance: this is by reflection. Well, another bang of the
gong, and away we go to hear a Lecture on “the Process of Marbling and
Decorating Paper.” By-the-bye, that gong is a curious instrument, being
composed of a large steel spring, coiled round in an open coil, and
terminating in a standard. On being struck with a hammer it emits a
melodious sound, like the tone of a church bell, for which it has been
proposed to be used, and is patented for this purpose; and no doubt,
in a short time, these instruments will be so improved and tuned, so
as to do duty for a whole peal of bells. The Marbling of Paper has
never yet been made public, the trade having carried the process on in
perfect secrecy, so as to retain a monopoly—which is a very bad thing,
as it prevents many improvements being made, which would much increase
its sphere of utility; the simplicity of the process, however, has been
now brought forward by the public spirit of a gentleman named Woolnoth,
to whom the world should be much obliged for upsetting monopoly,
and breaking down principles which tend to frustrate rather than
accelerate improvements in science. The process commences by making a
solution of the “gum tragacanth,” and which is called in the shops,
“gum dragon;” this solution being brought to a proper consistency,
is placed in a long flat vessel, sufficiently superficial to allow a
large sheet of paper to be placed on its surface. Well, having prepared
this apparatus, which requires great nicety, the workman, having his
colours already mixed, sprinkles on the surface of the gum solution a
sufficient quantity, first of one colour and then another, until he
obtains the required pattern. But the philosophy of obtaining this
pattern remains to be told. The colours are mixed with such materials
as cause them to repel when they come in contact with each other, in
the same manner as oil does when dropped on water. The material thus
made use of is gall taken from the bladder of an ox. This substance has
the curious property of preventing the colours from mixing with each
other; for instance, if a sprinkle of lake be first put on the surface
of the gum (there being no absorption of colour as there would be on
paper,) and another colour having gall ground with it be sprinkled
over this, the two colours, instead of mixing, would immediately repel
each other, and form a curious pattern, each colour forming its own
particular shape, and this may be carried on to any number of colours;
it is applied to various purposes, such as covering copy-books, and
the edges of books. For many years this invention was confined to the
Dutch workmen, and the patterns produced by them are still called the
“old Dutch patterns;” but an Englishman discovered the means by which
this pattern was obtained, and by his ingenuity very much improved the
application, and this improvement, although still suffering from the
same secrecy in England with which it was encumbered in Holland, bids
fair to develop many improvements, of which the public spirit of Mr.
Woolnoth has rendered it susceptible. Based upon these circumstances,
Messrs. De La Rue, the famous card-makers, set their ingenuity to
work, and have produced such wonderful advantages, that the papers now
introduced by them are perfect gems of art—the “iridescent film,” as it
is by them technically called, giving on the surface of highly-glazed
paper all the beautiful colours of the rainbow. It is singular, that if
an exceedingly thin film of a gummy varnish be floated on the surface
of the water, a sheet of paper placed thereon may be taken off, having
all the splendid colours referred to. But to perfectly understand the
process it should be seen, and this is easily done by a visit to that
delightful place of recreation, the Royal Polytechnic Institution. So
many are the attractions of this Temple of Science, that we intend
to pay it another visit; and no doubt, from the constant additions
which are daily made to the Museum, we shall find matter with which
to entertain and instruct our readers; bearing in mind that while the
brain is engrossed with useful things, there is no room for vicious and
useless thoughts.
[Illustration]
Passage of the Desert.
All the young people who have read Peter Parley’s Annual for the last
fifteen years, know well enough what the Desert is. Some of them also
may have heard, now-and-then, of its dangers. They are, of course,
varied. There is the danger by heat, the danger by thirst, and the
danger from the wild robbers, who prowl about like wolves upon its
arid bosom. It was in the year 1850, that Edwin Keet, a traveller of
great enterprise, who had not only mounted the Nile and Pyramids, and
smoked a pipe with the famous Mehemet Ali, but, what is of far greater
consequence, had spent many a happy day with Peter Parley, made the
journey. Keet was not to be overcome by trifles. He had proceeded
across the desert to Aleppo, and met with no serious molestation
until he was within fifteen miles of Bassora, when early one morning
he perceived himself followed by a party of about thirty Arabs,
mounted on camels, who soon overtook him. As they approached, he, by
his interpreter, directed them either to advance or halt. Keet was
not alone—he had half-a-dozen Englishmen with him, two of whom were
Lieutenants in the Navy, one a rough old sailor, and the remaining
three his servants. He again called upon the Arabs to halt, or to
remove to the right or left of him, for he choose to travel by himself.
They answered they would not interfere with him, and went on at a brisk
rate. Keet then suspected them of some design, and kept himself upon
his guard. The two lieutenants prepared their pistols, and the sailors
drew their cutlasses. The Arab party proceeded only a few miles, and
slunk behind some rising ground in the distance:—this move, however,
did not escape the quick eye of Jim Crank, one of sailors, who had been
boatswain’s-mate on board the “Fairy,” and knew how to keep a good look
out a-head. As the party proceeded, they came to the range of little
hillocks behind which the Arabs had crouched, like so many tigers, to
spring on their prey. Keet and his companions were well mounted. It
is true that the lieutenants nor the sailors sat on their horses to
the best advantage. All had got their stirrups too high, and looked
more like old women on horseback than men, with the exception of Keet,
who rode firm, slowly, and high on his saddle. “Now my lads,” said
he, “we have only to sell our lives as dearly as possible—if we must
die, let us die like Englishmen—if we falter or flee, our destruction
is certain—if we dare the rascals, and give them two or three good
volleys, they may chance to quail, and we must trust to our good
horses to get us out of the fray. Here are eight of us, and we must
be prepared to form a square—to make a round, or to make an angle, if
necessary. So stand to your arms, my lads, and let me go in advance.
Don’t give way, nor attempt to flee while you can fight, for it is
fighting alone can save us.” So Keet placed himself at the head of his
little army of seven, and advanced.
[Illustration]
He had not marched far before he saw the caps of the Arabs dodging
behind some of the loose stones, topping hillocks before them. And,
from what he could observe, it was clear that the foe was in ambuscade,
and preparing to let fly at them as they passed. Keet’s mind was made
up in a minute as to the best course to pursue; so calling to his
people to follow him, and do as he did, as the only course they had, he
rode quietly forward at a slow pace, but just as he got abreast of the
stone-work of the hillocks, he made a sharp detour to the right, and
passing round the hillocks, attacked the Arabs suddenly in flank on the
other side. Bang! bang! bang! bang! from four of the double-barreled
muskets, and four of the Arabs fell from their camels. Keet spurred on,
and attacked the leader sword in hand, but he was speedily unhorsed by
the thrust of a spear into his back. At the very moment of his falling,
however, he took out one of his pistols, and blew out the chieftain’s
brains. The boatswain’s mate, at the same time, cut down the lance-man
who had thus intruded on Keet’s rear quarters. The two lieutenants had
adroitly jumped off their horses, and, from a secure embrasure of the
rocks above the hillocks, kept loading and firing their pieces with
the utmost expedition, and eleven or twelve of the Arabs were soon
prostrate. The remainder, observing the warm reception, and perceiving
Keet, although on the ground, valiantly and deliberately loading his
rifle and pistols, and feeling the “peppering” of the other sailor
and the lieutenants, and being not a little astonished at the conduct
of Jim Crank—who kept leaping, hollowing, firing, and shouting like a
wild demon, and calling them all the wicked names of which the English
tongue is so capable—began to sheer off, and, in a very short time,
nothing was seen of them but a small cloud of dust far away in the
desert. The remainder of the journey was passed without molestation,
and Keet and his companions arrived safe at Bassora.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Glastonbury Abbey.