most questionable thing whether we shall ever be permitted to accomplish the other.

It is needless, in the present advanced state of information, to go into any account of the origin or history of balloons. By the ingenuity of Mr Green and others, the balloon has apparently attained perfection; but after all, it is nothing more than a toy-a machine helpless in the midst of the atmosphere. Unlike the ship at sea, it has nothing against which sails or rudder can be made to act. Theorising men of science, however, are not satisfied, and new contrivances to guide the machine have been attempted. One of these consists of a sail placed horizontally, or vertically, in connection with proper sustaining apparatus attached to the car. Mr Edgeworth first proposed the use of this resisting surface to the Royal Irish Academy in 1795, but it was principally for facilitating the ascent and descent of the machine. A Mr Evans appears to have conceived the first successful method of directing the flight of the machine. Using a small 'Montgolfier' balloon, he suspended a large oblique surface beneath it. When the balloon ascended, it ascended in the direction toward which the upper edge of the oblique surface looked, and descended again to the point to which the lower edge was directed. Thus a sort of aerial tacking was attained. The course which a balloon thus fitted would take in its ascent, might be described thus; then when it attained the highest point, the edge of the plane would be reversed, and the balloon would descend thus ; or the whole course It was proposed that two balloons should be used-a Montgolfier below, and a hydrogen a considerable height above. Biot remarked, this was placing a furnace underneath a powder magazine. It was manifest that aërial voyaging, if only to be accomplished by this means, had little to recommend it to the philosopher, and none to the expeditious traveller. This idea, therefore, fell to the ground for a time. The motive powers of the steam-engine were then thought of, and it was proposed to place a light engine in the car, which should actuate a pair of vanes on either side. But the weight of engines, fuel, water, and the necessary attendants, has hitherto been an insurmountable difficulty. The lightest marine-engine, on the condensing principle, cannot be made under at least twelve or thirteen hundredweight per horsepower. Many ingenious plans were devised for reducing the weight of the steam-engine. Mr Gurney invented some engines, which, with their fuel for one hour, did not weigh more than 300 pounds per horsepower. Sir George Cayley, an accurate mathematician and a sound philosopher, clung with invincible tenacity to the steam-propulsion idea, and proposed the use of a balloon made of Mackintosh's India-rubber cloth, filling it with steam, and at the same time propelling the car by a steam-engine beneath. He concludes by expressing his belief that Dr Darwin's lines, so often quoted, and in our day in part so strikingly fulfilled, should yet receive their fulfilment in the regions of air :

'Soon shall thy arm, unconquered steam! afar Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car; Or on wide-waving wings expanded, bear The flying chariot through the fields of air.' The steam-engine being thus apparently a hopeless drag, our aeronautic genii returned to balloon-manoeuvering. A Dr Macsweeny of Cork has written a pamphlet, in which he enters into a description of the aero-tactics; and there are several curious modes of balloon progression described by this sanguine gentleman. One method of navigation is called balloon-warping. It requires two balloons, which must be connected by a long rope; and after some perplexing fashion or other, it is stated that the aëronauts can by this means wind or warp one another along. Another equally curious and whimsical, and, in our estimation, of about an equal feasibility, was called crescenting. Let our readers imagine the strides of a giant pair of compasses, in half

circles, across a country, and they will form some idea of the plan proposed under this head. Two balloons were requisite also in this case: under the car of one was a long pole, with a couple of planes of canvas projecting downwards from it. The other balloon was to be made stationary, a brisk breeze was to blow, and the balloon with the pole-planes to be hauled across the current. Thus it would be made to describe a great semicircle-and in this way we were to fly across England! Wings and oars filled with gas were also tried; but this proved a vanity likewise. It was then thought that these erratic machines-balloons--might be made available for the purposes of traffic by means of balloon-ways.' This contrivance was by fixing a number of posts, like the posts of our electric telegraphs, from one town to another; a long rope was sustained by these in a spring catch, which ran through a ring in the bottom of the car. Thus the balloon was guided-that is, was to be guided-from place to place.

Passing these fanciful contrivances, we may advert to one which, though discovered long since by Baldwin, still keeps its place in aërial navigation. This is the invention of hedging. Probably it derived its origin, as well as name, from the artifice common in navigating a vessel down a stream--which is by carrying an anchor trailing under her bows; thus steerage-way is gained on the vessel. Mr Green, as a substitute, uses the long rope, called the 'guide-rope.' By allowing the end of this rope to trail on the ground, rotation of the machine is prevented, its course is retarded, and a guiding power is to some extent established. It is to be remembered, however, that the rope, when long, is of itself a great addition to the weight of the machine. To meet this objection, a tapering rope has been proposed, the thickest end being attached to the car. The rope thus acts also in some measure as a regulator of the height of the machine. If it has a tendency to descend, more rope is thereby supported on the ground, and the balloon becomes more buoyant; if it rises, it has to carry more rope. A dangerous accident sometimes occurs from the end of the rope lashing round trees and houses; this has been remedied by fastening a long rattan cane to the extremity. After all, even the guide-rope, the simplest and best of these plans, is of very limited application on land. At sea, possibly, it might prove of value. Altogether, we cannot for ourselves look to the guiderope for much practical benefit beyond its preventing rotation. The success of aeronauts in the air alone having proved so limited, many plans have been suggested for a union of aero and hydro-nautics, and several hybrid machines were constructed. In some of these the steam-engine was placed in a boat, which dragged the balloon after it. We are at a loss to discover any superiority over an ordinary steam-vessel in this whimsy.

:

Perceiving the futility of these schemes, some ingenious men first conceived the idea of forming a machine after the principle of a fish! Their reasoning was ingenious. They perceived the fallacy of comparing a balloon to a ship; and adopting a juster argument, determined to construct an aërial machine on this novel rule. Their machine was called the aeronautic fish. It was first planned in the year 1789 it contained many ingenious contrivances: water was used for ballast: it had wings working with cranks, by which its flight was to be secured. But the most curious idea about it was the plan for ascending or descending. The machine being built on the model of a fish, was long and sharppointed; underneath it was a weight, which was movable from end to end by a series of ropes and pulleys. When it was desirable to ascend, the weight was pulled down to the tail; this made it heavier, and consequently the prow rose up. If the machine would fly now, it would take an upward course. But if the desire was to descend, the weight was hauled down to the fore part, and it followed, of course, that the direction would be downwards. The balloon was of a long, fish-like figure, by which it was hoped that the tendency to rotation would be destroyed. The machine was constructed in

France, and it is said that Marshal Ney, who took the deepest interest in its construction, spent as much as 100,000 francs upon it. It was launched, it floated, with feeble powers it flew, but it would turn on one side. All the ingenuities were in vain; and after a long struggle of patience, talent, hope, and money against the difficulties of the subject, it was thrown aside in despair. The next attempt had a similar termination. In the year 1835 there appeared in the papers the advertisements of the European Aeronautical Society. Men were prepared for something wonderful, and they were not to be disappointed. In the Victoria Road, London, a dock was built, in which the lines of the first aerial ship were laid down. The name of this machine was the Eagle.' Borrowing the idea of the fish aërostat, the object of the inventors was to imitate a fish as far as possible. A vast curiosity was excited by this announcement, and for a time the Victoria Road Dock was the attraction of the learned and unlearned, the ignorant and the scientific. Time wore on, and the machine, when complete, may be thus described:-In order to obtain the requisite buoyancy, a principal part of the Eagle consisted of an immense balloon, in the form of a horizontal cylinder, terminating in a cone at each end. This part of the ship was one hundred and sixty feet long, and sixty feet in height. It was of such dimensions as to contain, by calculation, 200,000 cubic feet of hydrogen | gas; consequently the floating capacity was sufficiently large to admit of the suspension of a long car. The ingenious projectors, anxious to carry out their type, had contrived a clever apparatus for imitating the airbladder of the fish. It is familiar knowledge that the fish is able, by the compression it can exercise over this receptacle, either to rise to the surface or to sink itself to the bottom. This idea was developed also in the Eagle. Along the car ran two iron pipes; these were connected with an air, or in this case, a gas pump, which, by means of a tube entering the balloon, drew out the gas from thence, and pumped it into the iron pipes. In so doing, the effect was precisely similar to that produced by the fish the machine became specifically heavier, and sank down. To elevate it again, it was only needful to let out some of the compressed gas back into the balloon, when, becoming specifically lighter than an equal bulk of air, the Eagle rose. The next step was the propelling machinery. Keeping true to their original idea, it was constructed so as to resemble, on a vast scale, the pectoral and ventral fins, and the tail of a fish. There were four pairs of fans, two of which were placed on each side of the car. They were made of cane and varnished cotton, by which it was hoped the requisite strength and lightness would be secured. These fans were moved by a windlass, which was worked by the crew. Now the Eagle was to be a really useful invention. It was to make aërial voyages to Paris and back. It was to carry seventeen individuals, and to accomplish the journey in six hours! It was not intended to fly at a greater altitude than three hundred feet, which would clear all ordinary obstacles; and the machine could, on extraordinary occasions, easily rise by means of its compressed gas. Neither was it intended to brave a storm: if the wind were in favour, so much the better; but if, on the contrary, it was right in the Eagle's eye, it was not to be contended with-she was to return, and wait for fair weather. The inventor of this machine is understood to have been Count Lennox. In the year previous to its appearance in London, it is said to have been tried in Paris; but that city proving a bad starting-place, it was brought over to wing its way thither from London. The Eagle never flew; the scheme proved an utter failure; and the name and day-dreams of the European Aëronautical Society are all that now remains of it.

The most recent applications of machinery to balloon propulsion were two small models-the one by the veteran aëronaut' Mr Green, the other by Mr Monck Mason. In 1840, Mr Green exhibited in the Polytechnic Institution a small balloon, three feet in

diameter, which certainly did travel in any given direction in the still air of the great room. This he effected by letting a guide-rope hang from the car, and attaching to the car a pair of windmill vanes, which were moved by clockwork contained within. The direction of the aerostat was in a line with the guide-rope, and horizontally. In 1843, Mr Monck Mason effected the same object by affixing an Archimedean screw upon a spindle which protruded from the car. In both cases the result was only such as was to be anticipatedaerial navigation was not advanced by either. The Ariel,' the far-famed invention of Mr Hensom, is the first modern attempt to construct a machine to fly by mechanical powers alone. The idea was first started about five years ago, and the interest and curiosity produced will be well remembered. Even the legislative assembly caught the infection, and the House of Commons passed the bill for the constitution of the Aerial Transit Company. Sober expectations of seeing the Ariel sweep on rapid pinion over the top of St Paul's were raised in the minds even of thinking men; and wondering crowds went down to Poplar to look at something which popular report declared to be the real machine. The description of it is as follows:-It consisted of a large light frame, 150 feet in length, 30 feet in width, and containing therefore an area of 4500 square feet. The frame was to be covered with varnished linen or silk. There was also a tail, which, turning on a joint, was to direct the Ariel's flight. In the centre of the frame the car was attached. After the requisite arrangements for passengers and the stowage of fuel, came the motive power. This is said to have contained some remarkably clever adaptations. It consisted of a light and powerful steam-engine, suspended in the middle of the wings. It drove two sets of vanes, each twenty feet in diameter, which were placed at the hinder edge of the wings. The boiler was equally remarkable. It was formed of fifty hollow truncated cones, each one being three feet long, and five and a half inches in diameter at the base. These cones were arranged with the blunt ends downwards, all round, and above, and below the fire, thus presenting a surface of fifty square feet to the action of the flames. The steam thus generated was to supply two cylinders of twenty-horse combined power, and after fulfilling its functions, was to be condensed in a number of small tubes, which would be kept sufficiently cool by the rapidity of the flight. Water was thus economised-only twenty gallons of which was said to be sufficient for the boiler to work with. The whole weight of this steam-engine of twenty-horse power was put at the fabulous figure of 600 lbs. The Ariel was to start by first running down an inclined plane, the resistance of the air was to carry her off free, and then the vanes were to sustain and to propel her on her way. The main reliance of the inventor appears to have been upon the large resisting surface his machine offered to the air in descending. Calculating the load at 3000 lbs., there was a provision of a square foot and a half for every pound weight-that is, the area of resistance was 4500 square feet. Now it is easily ascertained that a weight equal to the above, under the most favourable circumstances, has a gravitating tendency equal to thirteen miles an hour, or eighteen feet a second

all that the surface of resistance can do being to retard the fall. To sustain this weight, falling at this rate of speed, the power requisite amounts to at least that of sixty horses; and even then nothing would be gained over an ordinary balloon, if we except a pretty rapid tumble should the engines stop work. Therefore the engines of the Ariel must have been trebled in power before it could even float; while to fly at the rate of fifty or sixty miles an hour, it would be necessary to raise their power to that of two or three hundred horses. It need scarcely be added that the Ariel never fulfilled those highly-coloured expectations which were entertained of her. A small model was exhibited, which, working by clockwork, and sustained at the end of a balanced arm, certainly flew round; but this was all.

Now, the scheme just put forth by Daedalus Britannicus has one merit-that it is a complete novelty, and can be compared in no respects to its predecessors of any kind. Without meaning the smallest unkindness, we cannot compare the representation he has designed of it to anything more appropriately than a flying whale! It is composed of a stout horizontal frame formed of fagots of bamboo, containing within itself a long silk balloon tapering to a point at each end. On each side of the frame are two pairs of boxes, made of sheet iron, supplied with movable lids, which are connected with the main rods of four wings. The wings are to be formed of long and narrow silk planes or feathers, one to be circular in form, twenty feet in diameter, and so connected with the frame by joints and springs, as to make the upward movement in an oblique direction, while in the downward action the whole under surface will be exposed to the resistance of the air. On the under surface of the whale-like balloon is to be a car twenty-five feet long; and at one extremity a conic shield is to guard the balloon from injury; while at the other a rudder or tail, twenty-seven feet long, is to direct its flight. It will be asked, what is the moving power? The answer will be heard with surprise: the successive explosions of a mixture of gas and air in the boxes at the root of the wings, by which means they will be made to flap about twelve times a minute! The balloon, says Daedalus Britannicus, is not to be depended upon for its assistance; it is a mere reservoir for gas. The explosion is to be effected in the four boxes by the electric spark. The inventor calculates on thus attaining a power equal to eighty horses! The weight is placed at 2000 lbs. The velocity he prudently declines to conjecture. Judging from the analogy of our model aeronauts' [the birds] 'we may expect a rate of progress almost unknown on earth.' Were we to venture an opinion upon the probable success of this machine, we fear it would be found at variance with the sanguine expectations of its author.

To sum up. Willing as we are to welcome the faintest dawn of any invention which will really and in every sense benefit our fellow-men, we must join in the desponding conclusions of many far better able to form a sound decision than ourselves, and say, that notwithstanding that probably upon no subject has so much power of mind been concentrated as upon aërostation, and that in a period altogether miraculous for its mechanical attainments, the hopes that it will at any time prove a practicable, or at least a valuable art, appear few and faint indeed. The experience of stormdriven aëronauts might have taught them ere this what a toy is the most stupendous of their machines in the tumults of the aërial ocean. And if aërial navigation is to be reserved for fair weather and prosperous gales, our position is already proven.

INDIAN RECREATIONS. THE love of strife and bloodshed would appear to be an original sin of humanity, which is only subdued by the gradual influence of civilisation. In the 'state of nature,' as it was formerly called, this savage passion flourishes in its greatest energy; and in the wildest and loveliest solitudes the ocean holds in its embraces, we find the human inhabitants inspired with the deadliest hatred against each other-family against family, tribe against tribe, nation against nation. It would be agreeable to be able to set this down as the result of circumstances; but unfortunately the same thing prevails throughout the entire world, in paradises of beauty and plenty, as well as in those ungenial wastes where the shivering and hungry savage murders for a meal.

In process of time, when the state of nature proves to be no state of nature at all, but merely the imperfect and rudimental condition of beings destined for a loftier rank, a change takes place in the aspect of Society-a portion of the warring groups are welded into one, and form a barbarian state, probably under the

arbitrary government, at first, of some individual who has risen to this eminence by his talents or determination. Their love of strife can now be gratified only by national wars or occasional revolutions-the only other bloodshed taking place in form of law, or by the conventional tyranny of the great over the mean. But although in this stage greatly advanced beyond savagism, the original taint in their character is by no means eradicated. It assumes, however, a new phasis. It expends its vicious energies upon slave-combats and fights of animals; and the bloodthirstiness of the people loses its character of wild courage, becomes allied to cowardice and effeminacy, and paves the way for subjugation, and eventually for a new regime, which is probably destined to advance the race another step in moral progress. It is proper to observe, however, that civilisation does not move like a fluid, overflowing a whole country at a regular level. On the contrary, it leaves masses of the people comparatively untouched; and at this moment, the cock-fighting of the Malays is somewhat more than paralleled by the cowardly brutality of the Welsh main of England.

We have been led into this train of thought by a description, quoted from a Calcutta paper in the Indian News,' of an entertainment recently given by the king of Oude to the governor-general, at his majesty's capital Lucknow. It consisted chiefly of combats of animals, which are not only interesting in themselves to the natural historian, but present some points to the moralist well worthy of his attention.

The exhibition, which was witnessed by the king and the governor-general, seated on raised thrones above the other personages, with the mob at a greater distance, commenced with an abortive fight between two elephants. Two little partridges were now made to fight, and with difficulty only separated from a desperate struggle. Two neelgas (a kind of antelope) were then set a-fighting, and really never have I seen a more furious encounter. They fought most desperately, and it was a real herculean task to separate them. You will be surprised to hear the names of the next combatants-a donkey and a hyena. The hyena had a rope tied round its neck, and from each side of this extended another rope held by two men. The hyena rushed on the donkey, who coolly turned round and gave his antagonist a kick on the head. Not relishing such treatment, the wild beast flew at the poor ass and pulled him over. The donkey, however, soon recovered himself, knelt on the hyena in the most cunning manner possible, and fastened his teeth in his enemy's shoulder, apparently grasping it with the greatest satisfaction. I believe the little fellow, who certainly raised the asinine species high in my favour, would have bit off a portion of it, had not an attendant separated the combatants. I have not seen anything more amusing than this fight, and less harmful in its result. Two terrier dogs next made their appearance; a bird was let loose on the water, and they sent after it. Their part was soon played. Two men next commenced their duties. The first combatant was a man with a large sword, very heavy, with a large handle. He wielded it about as if he was attacked by a host of enemies, groaned, advanced, retreated, jumped, and flourished his weapon with fearful rapidity, cut his neck, and eventually cut a melon in slices, as a feat of dexterity. Another succeeded him, who was in his movements as active as anybody could be. From his actions and motions, I inferred that he was imaginatively attacked by a regiment. He cut, waved his sword, put his shield to every part of his body, and, to say the least of it, was very well practised in agility. Two athletic persons then performed some surprisingly quick movements with weapons like twopronged forks, and displayed the utmost nimbleness in all their evolutions. They met, closed, overthrew each other, seized each other's hands, loosened them, laid on their backs, and did everything surprisingly well and quick. Two others then fought with each other for about ten minutes, and performed some most admirable

manœuvres; neither, however, received many blows from his ambidextrous antagonist. A man with four swords next came forward, and gave us a specimen of his activity and nimbleness. He had two swords in each hand, the handle of one touching that of the other. The next performer was a man with a bariat (a spear with a ball on each end of it), who excelled in agility anything I have ever seen. He held it in the middle, and wielded it like lightning; I really believe it would have been impossible to have struck him with a sword. One man of herculean proportions then displayed feats of dexterity and strength with an immensely thick and heavy club. Men and boys then carried on the sports. Elephant fights succeeded; and an encounter between two rhinoceroses next amused the spectators. After being urged for some time by their keepers, they met, and made two or three pushes at each other with their horns; when suddenly one, not liking the contest, coolly turned round, and, to my surprise, walked into the water and quietly took a bath; the other seeing which, followed his example. Elephant fights commenced again; two of them fought so furiously, that they were only separated with difficulty by men rushing between them with fireworks. There was also some graceful horsemanship exhibited by some men on the opposite side of the water. One rode backwards and forwards with great address, fired a gun, and performed admirable feats of dexterity. At eleven o'clock we went to another place, to witness the tiger and buffalo fights. A buffalo, with a little calf, but not its own, was the first that appeared on the ground below us. Two tigers were then let loose upon it. A slight skirmish between the buffalo and a tiger took place, and another royal Bengal tiger attacked the poor calf, and tore it to pieces. The buffalo once slightly struck one of the tigers and broke his teeth. The skirmishing continued for some time, when master Bruin made his appearance. He was a little fellow, with a great deal of courage; and though he retreated from the charge of the buffalo, did not hesitate to attack a tiger, whom he severely wounded. The latter, however, too strong for the poor bear, seized him in his mouth, pressed his skull, and bit off the greatest part of the lower jaw. The bear retreated to the middle of the arena, staggered about for some time, and then fell down; the eyes turned dim, and he was taken motionless into the cage; a rope, however, prevented his having fair play. The buffalo, meanwhile, smarting only from the wound made by the tiger, several times charged towards the tigers, but did not assail them. Four tigers were then let loose, but only crouched down, and dared not attack the victorious buffalo.'

What we would point out as worthy of remark in this detail, is the comparative humanity of the sports, and the obvious change in this respect which has taken place in the national character within no great space of time. In the travels of John Mandelslo we have an account of a dinner given by the native governor of Ahmedabad to his Dutch and English friends, at which the amusement was nautch dancing, performed by twenty girls. When these had danced themselves out, the host sent for another set, who, on refusing to come, were dragged into the presence, and, as a punishment for their insolence, beheaded on the spot before the European guests! These were the Indian recreations at the comparatively recent date when the English first appeared upon the scene.

We have only further to remark, that the animal fights of the king of Oude, while betraying the low status which the people hold as a community, are incomparably more humane than the amusements of a portion of the English people.

AUSTRALIAN WINE.

Such is the extent to which vineyards have been planted in New South Wales, that a single landowner, Mr M'Arthur, has made in one year 17,000 gallons of wine, some of which, when bottled, has been sold for 20s. a dozen at Sydney.

[Ogier the Dane was one of the most favourite heroes of the ancient Trouvères. Ariosto and other Italian poets have also given him a place in their poems. The stories that are told of him are extended to nearly a century, without impairing the vigour and innumerable, embracing various portions of his long career, which bravery of his character. At last, on returning from the Holy Land, he is said to have landed by chance on an island belonging to the fay Morgana. That lady, who was a kind of siren, conceiving a strong passion for the ancient warrior, presented him with a crown of three flowers inwoven, which had the power of impart ing to the wearer immortal youth, at the same time steeping his delighted senses in forgetfulness. How this charm was at length broken is not now necessary to be known. His fabulous adventures present that curious mixture of northern chivalry and Oriental superstition which is easily accounted for in the long connection of the Moors with Southern Europe.]

OFTEN the starlight have I seen,

And many suns go up the sky;
And long with thee I must have been,
Morgana, dreaming pleasantly.
Yet still the triple-flowered crown
I wear, and in the marble font
I cannot mark a single frown
Whereby my happy years to count.
What was I ere I came to thee?
I know not; but a dream I have
At times of moving on the sea,
Or fighting with a turbaned slave:
Of river-shadowing palm-trees near
Great cities all of marble planned,
And wells of water cool and clear

Wide scattered in a barren land.
Great crowds of people, too, I've seen,
Who called me Ogier the Dane,
And hailed me bravest Paladin,
That fought for knightly Charlemagne ;
And seemed it something like a cry
That once had stirred my quiet heart,
But now it passed unheeded by,

As pass the summers where thou art.
From these high towers of Avalon
I see the waters every way,
And the deep sky looks deeper on

The brimming surface of the bay.
Ah! I am safe in Paradise;

I know it, for it changeth not:
I will not fear where nothing dies,
So bring light myrrh and bergamote:

And bring me wine of sunny gold,

And ope the silver-hinged door,
And let the air blow soft and cold

'Mong curtains rustling evermore :
And my Morgana, come and sing
No hateful song of cruel wars,
And thou shalt find me listening
When all the sky is full of stars.

And pleasant shall it be to take

Aside the flowered tapestry,
And see on the fresh-water lake
A circle of the dotted sky.
And if the uncompanioned moon

Come up, we'll watch her all the night,
From rising, till her silver noon,
And thence till morning drinks her light.

So gazing with a dull blue eye,
Entranced he listened, while the sun
Went down, and in the farther sky
A pale star twinkled all alone:
Then sad and weary was the gloom
That spread upon the quiet sea,
And still more sad and wearisome
Her low and thoughtful melody.
And from the dull and lowly mood
These things within his spirit wrought,
He spake of how the fair and good
To evil suddenly are brought.
Meanwhile deep thoughts enfilmed his eye,
And felt they like a dreary spell,
The shadow of the misery

That on the morrow there befell.

Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold by D. CHAMBERS, 98 Miller Street, Glasgow; W. S. ORE, 147 Strand, London; and J. M'GLASHAN, 21 D'Olier Street, Dublin.-Printed by W. and R. CHAMBERS, Edinburgh.

EDINBURGH

JOURNAL

No. 228. NEW SERIES.

TEARS.

BY LEITCH RITCHIE.

We have already given the anatomy of laughter, and are now tempted to inquire into the nature of the opposite phenomenon. This sequence is perfectly natural; for the two subjects are connected by more than contrast-an overflowing of the eye being an unfailing accompaniment of the convulsion of mirth. In the midst of life we are in death; in the midst of laughter we are in tears! But the strange association does not end here; for weeping produces joy, by relieving and solacing the wounded heart; and through the gloomy portals of the grave we pass into immortal life.

Weeping is an earlier affection than laughter. The former comes to us with our first inflation of the lungs by atmospheric air; but we are not sufficiently reconciled to the world to laugh at it for some little time. Crying is easy: we take to it by instinct the moment we are born; but we require a month or two, and sometimes more than that, to find out the jest of life. We do not know all at once what people mean by poking us in the ribs, pinching our cheeks, throttling us with their kisses, and addressing us in an unknown tongue. But the fun of the thing at length dawns upon us, and then becomes clearer and clearer, till, beginning with a smile, we get in time to a downright crow. Weeping is not only first, it is likewise last. The tears of infancy are renewed in old age; and the same salutation we give the world at meeting suffices for our farewell. But midway between these two points we are freer from the emotion. Equidistant from the softness of youth and the weakness of age, the mortal coldness of the soul' comes down over our manhood like death:

'That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears!' Weeping is not only first and last, it is a necessary condition of perfect life. Laughter no doubt is wholesome, from its effect upon the lungs and the circulation; but tears are indispensable to the sight. Some people get on very well without laughing; but we must all look at the world through our tears, or else not look at all. Without this moisture, the eye would lose its brightness, the cornea would wither and dry up, and we should become blind. Laughter is an accident, an exception, a liberty taken with nature; and after the convulsion is over, our features recompose themselves into deeper gravity than before, as if in remorse for their extravagance. Tears, on the other hand, are a normal suffusion that is necessary to the organ of sight; and after their effusion in weeping, we feel refreshed and thankful the grief that has called them forth being softened by the shower, just as any acrid matter that may enter the eye is diluted by its protecting tears.

PRICE 1d.

But although grief may be the most common cause of weeping, it is by no means the sole cause. Joy, surprise, sympathy, and other emotions, affect us in the same way. When long-severed friends meet again, they not unfrequently weep. Thus Joseph was so affected by the meeting with his brethren, that he made haste, and he sought where to weep; and he entered into his chamber, and wept there.' Among savages there is a great difference in this respect. The American Indian would think his manhood foully stained by a tear; while among the New Zealanders, weeping is practised as an accomplishment by the chiefs, who consider it still more necessary to be able to cry well than fight well. The western strangers, they remark, meet their friends like so many dogs-civilised dogs of course they mean-giving each other a paw. As for themselves, they not only embrace, and rub noses, but then sit solemnly down face to face, and drawing their mats over their heads, weep for joy, as if their hearts were breaking.

Triumph, after severe suspense, moves men to tears as commonly as the joy of meeting. Laughter is said by some writers to be a manifestation of this proud feeling; but the same thing might be said more correctly of weeping. We remember, when visiting the church of Notre-Dame at Mantes, being much struck with the loftiness of the vault of the nave, from which some men, engaged in whitewashing the roof, swung in barrels, looking like so many spiders. When this vault was built, and the supports were about to be withdrawn, Eudes de Montreuil, terrified at the boldness of the arch he had constructed, did not dare to look on, but went home, and there awaited the result in an agony of suspense. Judge of his feelings when he heard at length the hasty steps of his nephew, whom he had deputed to witness the operation. 'It stands! it stands!' mortal monument of your fame!' At the words, the cried the young man, bursting into the room, 'an imarchitect fell to the ground, as if struck down with a blow, and burst into a passion of tears.

The constructor of the first Menai bridge had more nerve than Eudes. He looked on while the last chain was fastening, when in another moment the fate of his remarkable work would be determined; but success had the same effect upon him as upon the French architect, and when he saw that all was safe, he burst into tears. A feeling somewhat different from this, united with home recollections, affected Bruce when he saw the object of his adventurous wanderings completed; and his full heart saluted the source of the Nile, not with exclamations of wonder and exultation, but with silent tears.

'No more than this! What seemed it now
First by that spring to stand?

A thousand streams of lovelier flow
Bathed his own mountain land!
Thence far o'er waste and ocean track,
Their wild sweet voices called him back.