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of all kettles, grandfather, and greatgrandfather, to boot; large enough to boil a camel, much less a sheep.'

"Camels, your majesty' exclaimed I, 'large enough to dress a string of camels!'

"Wonderful, wonderful!' exclaimed the shah, in deep thought; well, after this, there is no doubt that they can make a spying-glass that looks over the mountain. Order some to be sent immediately,' said he to the vizier."

The narrative of the Hajji interests the royal breast. He is clothed in a

dress of honour, and would be made a khan, but that it is thought neces sary to reserve that dignity to gratify the chief ambassador with on his arrival. In the mean time, however, the Hajji lives in hope, for he is privileged to stand before the king; and who knows whether time may not see the fulfilment of his wishes. In which trust he finally takes his leave of his British readers:-" Seeking protection at the skirts of their coats, and hoping that their shadow may never be less !"



ALL who have of late frequented the Palais Royale, at Paris, must have remarked the very singular personage who has acquired the title of "L'Osage d'Aquitaine," from the Parisians. His name is Pierre Chedruc Duclos, and his age fifty-six years; his long beard (which would fily grace a pioneer of the Old Guard) is black; he boasts a pair of enormoUS moustachios; and his dress is the very luxury of misery. A gray, faded, and dirty great coat, torn and with many a rent, which he has worn for years, is fastened round his body by pieces of twine, instead of buttons; his pautaloons, which hang in tatters on his legs, are secured to them by cord; and, by the same means, his shoes are kept upon his feet. This affectation of wretchedness has not arisen, how ever, from mercenary views, or, by moving pity or exciting compassion, to procure the viler means of existence; but it would seem to be as a self-imposed penalty (wherefore, 1 cannot say,) that he dooms himself to be daily exhibited to the sight of his fellow-men in the garb of misery in those very haunts where he was once distinguished as "the gayest of the gay-the admired of all observers." His figure is remarkably fine, and he possesses a noble physiogno.

my, although his eyes have the expression of deep and settled melancholy. His hands might more than vie for size and delicacy with those of Buonaparte or of Byron; his manners are those of one long used to the best and most refined society; his language is equally forcible and elegant, and his voice melodious. Miserable as he now is, poor Duclos was once the Coryphæus of a party; public journals were devoted to his praise; his valour and gallantry were the theme of many a tongue; and his duel, long since, with the celebrated Colonel Fabvier, aroused the interest of the Parisian fair in his favour. He is rich, but refused to receive his rents or use his property; a humble bed is reserved for him at the house of a person named Jolivet, in the Rue Pierre Lescaut, for which he daily pays the moderate sum of twenty sous, which he, in the same manner, borrows from different persons, who, under the title of a loan, are disposed to bestow their cliarity on one they once admired and es teemed. He was lately arrested for the third time, and conducted before the tribunal of Correctional Police, as a vagabond, and, when demanded his reason for the strange habits he had adopted, laconically replied, "J'use de mon droit de liberté." He was discharged; and, on retiring,

bowed to the Court with a degree of grace which those most accustomed to other Courts would fain imitate, were it possible.


One of the candidates at present for the prize in the Parisian Academy of Painting, is a young man named Du Cornet, who was born without arms, and has on each foot but three toes, with which he paints, and excellently well too. He has already gained two medals for his former productions.



We are told, in a medical work lately published, to read aloud and loudly, "out of any work before us, to promote pulmonary circulation, and strengthen the digestive organs." We know a much better exercise of the lungs than that, and one we frequently practise. It is to thrust our head and shoulders out of the window, and imagining that we see a scoundrel stealing apples in the orchard, or carrying off a howtowdie, to roar out upon him, as if it were Stentor blowing a great brazen trumpet,-"Who are you-you rascalstand still or I will blow you to atoms with this blunderbuss!" The thief takes to his heels, and having got a hundred yards farther off, you must intensify your roar into a Briareus even unto the third remove-and then the chance is, that some decent citizen heaves in sight, who, terrified out of his seven senses, falls head

over heels into the kennel-when you, still anxious "to promote pulmonary circulation and strengthen your digestive organs," burst out into a guffaw that startles the neighborhood-and then, letting down the lattice, return to your study.


A gentleman, who was affected with a constant rheum in his eyes, waited on his physician for advice. The doctor desired him to leave off drinking wine. In a few weeks the gentleman experienced the good effect of the prescription, and thought he could do no less than call on the doctor to return him thanks. He was not a little surprised to find him in a tavern, and very merry over a bottle of wine with a friend, notwithstanding his eyes were affect


When a debtor refuses payment in China, the creditor, as a last resource, threatens to carry off the door of his house on the first day of the year. This is accounted the greatest misfortune that could hap-ed with the same disease he had just pen, as in that case there would be removed. "Well," said the gentleno obstruction to the entrance of man, "I see you doctors don't follow evil genii. To avoid this consum- your own prescriptions." The son mation, a debtor not unfrequently of Esculapius knew in an instant sets fire to his house on the last what he meant, and made this obnight of the year. servation:-"If you love your eyes better than wine, don't drink it; but as I love wine better than my eyes, I do drink it."

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In Prussia there exist, what are termed, Strolling Schools, having no fixed place. The teacher, with his scholars, and his classical furniture, establishes himself in all the houses of a village successively, where he affords instruction; and his stay is determined by the number of persons he is called upon to instruct under each roof, a week being the allotted term for each child, during which period the parents supply all the wants of the Domine.


It has more than once occurred, that the most brilliant discoveries in science have been anticipated by ingenious reasoning or conjecture. In this manner, Sir Isaac Newton conjectured that the diamond was com

bustible, long before it was proved by experiment that it consists of carbon. On dipping into one of Addison's "Tatler's," the other day, we fell by accident upon a very remarkable passage, which completely anticipates the great discoveries which Herschel made, by sweeping the milky way with his powerful telescope. The passage in the "Tatler" runs thus:

"What you look upon as one confused white in the milky way, appears to me (the good genius) a long track of heavens, distinguished by stars, that are arranged in proper figures and constellations.""-No.


This is precisely Herschel's account of the milky way from observation, he having found the white light, only apparent to the naked eye, to consist of hundreds of stars, each of them in his opinion the centre of a solar system, analogous to our own.


Few of the tender sex, it is to be presumed, are aware of the barbarous method by which this highly prized article is obtained. "When the tortoise," says the Sincapore Chronicle, "is caught by the Eastern islanders, it is suspended over a fire kindled immediately after its capture, until such time as the effect of the heat loosens the shell to such a degree, that it can be removed with ease. The animal now stripped and defenceless, is set at liberty, to reenter its native element. If caught in the ensuing season, or at any subsequent period, the unhappy animal is subjected to a second ordeal of fire; but rewards its captors this time with a very thin shell."


As a proof of the different views of different architects with regard to the strength of materials, we cannot cite more forcible examples than those exhibited in the roof of the late Brunswick Theatre, and that of the new London University. Though we have no wish to eulogize one

architect at the expense of another, we believe scarcely any person, at all acquainted with the strength of building materials, would have considered the horizontal scantling of such an immense iron roof as that of the late Theatre, 117 feet by 63, sufficient to guarantee the perfect safety of the building; while the iron ties, or girders, which connect the walls of the new University, are strong enough to sustain a roof of at least four times the estimated weight. The principle on which these horizontal girders are constructed,—that of a rib, or rafter, with a pediment elevation,-we think very beautiful; while every risk of fracture from sinking, or from the lateral pressure, is provided against by a wrought iron bolt (forming, as it were, the chord of the arc) running from end to end, and secured by nuts and flanges in the usual way.


The cogue of Chili is one of the most extraordinary climbing plants ever noticed by naturalists. It is not, like the hop, convolvulus or the vine, contented with the support afforded by a single tree, but when it has reached the top of one, it shoots down again and in a short time attains the summit of another. Proceeding in this manner, it has been known to extend over a space of more than two hundred yards. The toughness and pliability of its stems render them valuable for making baskets, and even cables.


Just published, Lectures to Young Persons on the Intellectual and Moral Powers of Man, the Existence, Character, and Government of God, and the Evidences of Christianity. By the Rev. John Harsey, 8vo.

Poems, by Miss Eliza Rennie, Svo. Narrative of a Journey from Constantinople to England, by the Rev. Dr. Walsh, 8vo.

Evenings of Mental Recreation, 12mo.

Victoria, 3 vols. 12mo.

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NO. 11.]





NATURAL HISTORY! What delight and instruction flow from its study, whenever it is pursued, not merely in a scientific, but a truly philosophical spirit! Upon this wonderful scene of existence, is it possible for an intelligent being to look without wonder? or to wonder without desire to know? We have no need to explain how the desire to understand these wonders should spring up in the human mind :-its own faculties are a sufficient explanation. There would be more occasion to explain by what means, in such multitudes of men, that native desire is suppressed and defeated of its natural growth and vivacity.

Accordingly, in all times of which we have any record, we find that one

[Vol. 9, N. s.

of society, impressed with the extraordinary properties and powers which were discovered to them, and the appearances they beheld, that they were much more in danger of being overcome with excessive admiration and affection, than of too slightly regarding them; and so great was their unceasing admiration and wonder of what they continually saw passing before their eyes, on this great theatre of nature-that they soon began to carry it beyond its just limits, to intermix superstitious imagination with their conception of natural powers, and to interweave the phenomena of nature in the fables of their erring religion. This we know to have been done to a very great extent by the Egyptians-the early Greeks

strong passion of powerful and aspir--the old inhabitants of Persia, and the Hindoos. We have reason to believe it has been almost universal.

ing minds, has been the desire of natural knowledge. And erring as their opinions were, and could not but be, in the infancy of observation, limited and imperfect, still the facts of nature which were open to

Here we see evidence, not only of what the face of nature is to man, but what is that strong impression which is the beginning and first in

and even their rude speculation took such strong hold upon their minds, that not only is the desire of such knowledge recorded as having been most strong in their most illustrious men, but the reputation of proficiency in it, was of itself sufficient to raise a man to the highest distinction among the People, as a Sage-a Priest in the Temple of Nature.

their senses, were so extraordinary-citement to the study of her laws. It is an impression of strong and delighted wonder and admiration—an impression which does not belong, in the first place, to intellect and philosophy, but to natural and inevitable feeling. Accordingly, we find that the greatest minds that have pursued this knowledge have held throughout a course answerable to this beginning; they have been at once contemplators and lovers of gature. We behold in them a mind

The truth is, that so strongly were the minds of men, in the early times 51 ATHENEUM, VOL. 9, 2d series.

elevated by the greatness, and calmed by the beauty, of what they behold. When we think of Sir Isaac Newton, we think not so much of the vast and comprehensive powers of his intellect, as of the sublimity of the objects which that intellect was for ever engaged in contemplating. In the lives of almost all the men of genius who have been given up to these studies, we fiud, not a curious inquisitiveness of mind which might have been applied to this subject or to any other, but a mind touched with delight of what was disclosed, and led on by that delight to neverending investigation. If such be the just foundation and inducement to natural knowledge, what must be the effect of the pursuit of it upon the mind? It is not, we see, a painful labour imposed upon unwilling minds, piecing together with effort facts painfully acquired. The mind hurries on in its own enjoyment through scenes of delight. For you must not judge of these studies by the degree of interest with which minds apply to them that have been long unused to such occupation, and are led to them, not by their own desire, but by accidental circumstances. But you may judge by what you see of the eagerness with which children to whom they are agreeable will follow them. We may judge by what we read of the strong and devouring passion with which minds, having this bent by nature, will give themselves up to such pursuits, all life long, often without being influenced in any degree by the love of fame, or any other reward, than by the simple and sublime satisfaction in the study of itself. Such, unquestionably, is the true character of the study, and, if so, what must be its effect? Why, to nourish the mind with continual pure pleasure, from admiration of what it beholds-to nourish, that is, not only to give it pleasure, but such pleasure as it will convert into aliment, into the materials of its strength and growth. A thousand other pleasures fade away, and leave the mind neither richer or stronger

than before, perhaps poorer and weaker; but this is an appetite that grows by feeding. The knowledge the mind has attained quickens in it, and whets the desire for more; it is felt in the mind like a continual hope, and it also enriches the possessor. Has not he great wealth, whose mind contains within itself the sources of its own best-beloved delights-which need not go out of itself for its noblest happiness? Now the mind that, in following its own delight, has filled itself with natural knowledge, is rich, because the mere revolving within itself of the stores which it contains, opens up to it afresh all its sources. But there is another meaning to this kind of riches. The pleasure that nourishes the mind enriches it by the multiplication of all its feelings; for what takes place is not the mere repetition of the same pleasure from day to day, but there is unfolded, as it were, in the mind, its capacity of pleasure into all the variety of its forms. A child is satisfied, probably, with precisely the same pleasure, repeated again and again in just the same kind and degree-so it often seems to be

but by degrees this simple and entire pleasure, which was like a sinple sensation, begins to break and divide itself into many more. The enjoyment in which the mind has indulged acts upon its sensibilities, and brings them out, so that suscep tibilities of delight, which were not at first discernible, though they were in the mind, lying there like imperceptible points, become more and more developed, till they assume form and growth of their own; for every mind has its own constitution, and its own peculiar capacity of intel lectual enjoyment. Of whatever kind its chief native pleasure is, in that also it has prepared within it various oth er capacities, of the possession of which it is unconscious, and these can only be brought into action by degrees, by the power of that primary pleasure. They are secondary, and will spring up next, and others after them, and so on for ever and

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