These holes are frequently closely adjacent to the wells whence the occupants derive their supply of water.

'A great number of the courts and alleys are altogether unprovided with house-drains, or where they do exist, they are mere surface-drains, and are nearly always choked up, and thus become great nuisances. A great portion of the disease in the parish is to be found occurring in these filthy undrained courts and alleys.'

Then as to the removal of refuse-The exterior appearance of the streets may, perchance, through the operation of paving and scavenging, be tolerably cleanly; but in scarcely any instance, when the houses themselves are visited, and the yards inspected, are not collections of all kinds of refuse, garbage, ashes, dirt, decomposing cabbage leaves, and other offensive vegetable remains, oftentimes dung, and sometimes putrescent animal remains, to be found, either abundantly distributed over the surface of the dirty yard, or piled into a heap in a corner. In either case the heap is exposed to the action of the rain, which soaks into it, hastens decomposition, dissolves the putrescent, fetid matter, washes it over the surface of the yard, and causes it to form an intimate union with the soil. Truly does such a soil sow the seeds of disease and death; every rain which falls augments the quantity and power of the poison, every sun that shines raises a vapour charged with deadly poison. The times at which the contractor's cart goes round is not certain; no provision, therefore, can be made to have the refuse in readiness for him. In name, he is bound, on complaint, to remove collections of ashes, &c. but in practice it is not so. Practically, therefore, the dust and garbage heaps of the poor must either remain on their premises, or they must themselves remove them. But they can only remove them from the yards to the streets: there, then, the refuse is deposited to rot and to putrefy, and mingle with the dust and mud, and to be scattered on the pavement, and to defile the passengers [exactly Edinburgh in 1619]. The filthy streets remain uncleansed till their foulness startles the eye of the scavenging department. During all this period, whether the refuse be on the premises, where it is continually accumulating, or on the streets, it is giving off vapours loaded with unhealthy emanations. Wherever I went, I found the most loud and bitter complaints against the dust contractor for the filthy state in which the inhabitants were compelled to remain, in consequence of his never, or very rarely, removing their dust heaps. These complaints in many places assumed the tone of the deepest indignation, and evidently arose from an earnest conviction of a great outrage being committed upon them, and of a cruel negligence or indifference to their wants and necessities actuating the anthorities. "The people never die here; they are murdered by the fever!" was the exclamation of one inhabitant in Half Nichol Street. . . . It is impossible but that discontent and disputes should arise, and that working-men, finding their homes made wretched and uncomfortable, and surrounded with nuisances, should leave them for the public-house, there to learn, and soon to indulge in, habits of intemperance, which indulgence soon leads to vicious propensities, which in their turn give rise to a large class of crimes.'

The details regarding a necessary class of conveniences are of so horrible a nature, that we must leave them to be studied in Dr Gavin's volume. So also must we pass over certain nuisances, where, for a profit and a livelihood, the most abominable and noxious works are carried on in the midst of a wretched population. Of the streets, many of the principal ones are paved, some, however, only within the last few years, and generally with a neglect of inclinations for the removal of surface water. Many others remain unpaved. The cleaning of the thirty-three miles of street, and the hundred miles of byways in the parish, is executed by 'thirteen decrepit old men,' being a sufficient power to go over the whole surface once in ninety days, though practically four streets are cleaned twice a-week, and

others once a-fortnight. The courts are as they have been described. Dr Gavin adds- For a few additional hundreds of pounds annually, the parish could be effectually cleansed, and kept clean, in all its streets, alleys, and courts every day." He also adds elsewhere- The annual deaths of 352 persons is the price in life paid by Bethnal Green to support its present filthy state-a costly, and extravagant, and fearful sacrifice!' The price in the morals and happiness of the people, who shall attempt to reckon it!

Such is a sample of suburban London-very piteous to behold, as Mr Carlyle would say. It adds to the pain with which we reformed barbarians of the north regard such a deplorable state of things, that it might be remedied to some extent, were it not for that calculating spirit for which our southern neighbours are, however unconsciously, remarkable. It is presumed,' says Dr Gavin, that the most solid reason for the wretched condition of the great majority of the houses of the poor, and for the total absence of any attempts at improvement, consists in the fact, that the commissioners and guardians are themselves the chief proprietors of the dwellings of the poor; and that as they in general pay the rates themselves, and have already exacted for their tenements the highest attainable rents, any, even the slightest, increase of rates would only be an increase of their own expenditure.' Under such circumstances, he truly adds, to expect effectual improvements appears fallacious.

LIFE OF AN ARTISA N. THERE is a volume before us which is not exactly to our taste. It is the life of a working-man by himself; or, to speak by the card, the Autobiography of an Artisan."* If it were nothing more than what it professes to be, we should like it much, for we can hardly conceive anything more interesting than a genuine account of the fortunes of a working-man, written in the plain matter-of-fact style of his class. And on the other hand, if it were what it aims at being a sentimental and philosophical history of the same unit of society, the production of a thinking and cultivated mind, we should perhaps like it still better. But this is neither one nor other. Of the flippant style of the book, we may take an example from the author's account of his first effort at industrial occupation. In the beginning of my eleventh year I was put out as an errand-boy to a draper, a situation I always disliked; indeed there was so much artificial civility interwoven into our polished draper, that I regarded it as better adapted to men compounded of " clock-work and steam," than to those sturdy flesh-and-blood Saxon bred, as if it required a bad French bow to sell a good French shawl. I was considered too uncouth to succeed in a business requiring so much conventional polish; and want of address was thought to be rather a disadvantage than a service to my master. My playing and loitering, when sent on errands, became so frequent, that in a few months I was discharged as incorrigible.' No man ought to make such confessions without an expression of regret for his folly.

The account the artisan gives of his marriage, an engagement which he undertook when destitute of employment, without a home, and not even possessed of so much as the petty fee necessary to be paid on the occasion, is equally objectionable. Why not acknowledge that it is by such errors that too many of his class fasten themselves down to irretrievable poverty? Notwithstanding defects of this nature, the book contains many pages worth reading, and more especially some passages in the life of a party of strolling players, which are full of a nervous simplicity not often met with in the writings of the present century. The author and his wife had turned players at a pinch; and in many places, to use his own language, Hunger had marked us for his own-he mocked us daily with breadless breakfasts and meatless

*By Christopher Thompson. London: Chapman. 1847.

dinners.' They were travelling on, loaded with the 'properties,' for they were too poor to employ a carrier; but the magistrates of the villages they passed through refused them permission to act, and the publicans, in reply to their request for a bed, seeing what they were at a glance, replied, 'No, no, no.' At length the desolate crew, with sore feet and sinking spirits, reached the village of Arnold, and after trying in vain every publichouse they passed, arrived at the last. Here they became desperate, and ordering a whole pint of ale, and paying the threepence in ready cash, put the fateful question to the landlady-"Can we sleep here to-night?" and the answer was, "I will consult with the master. Let me consider you are players, are you not?"

"Yes, madam," I answered. She saw it; our shabbygenteel appearance told the tale.

"Well," said she, "I will inquire, and let you know; but I do not know how it will be, for we have had some players here lately.'

The answer was favourable- They might stop if they

liked.'

'Too frequently one difficulty courses another on the heels. We had promise of beds, but how were we to pay for them? Threepence was already gone. We might fairly expect that the price would be demanded before we were allowed to couch our harassed limbs in Mrs Reid's bed-linen. We took the stock of our ready cash: we could raise sixpence in copper amongst us. I had twopence-halfpenny and two farthings; Messrs Younge and Manuel three-halfpence each. It was expected that such a sum would not suffice to find sleeping accommodation for six of us; so it was charitably settled that I should take the whole amount-sixpence; that would provide a bed for my family, and the other two gentlemen were to reconsider what could be done for themselves. After a short deliberation, they resolved to travel back again to Blidworth, where they had reason to believe a bed would be cheerfully offered to them. After a day's fatigue-one of hard walking and hunger-they imposed upon themselves a turmoil of eight miles, over dreary heath roads, to secure a bed for my family.'

Still a difficulty occurred-a delicacy-a punctilio which it was not easy to get over. I had two farthings, says our sensitive author, in my sixpenny-worth of copper coin: but what would "appearance" say if the manager of the strolling company just come in was obliged to offer fivepence-halfpenny and two farthings for his bed? Sixpence current it might be, but would it look like a real respectable silver sixpence? No; such a meagre tender would operate against my future prospects, and

would at once stamp me

"Bare, and full of wretchedness."

The thought stung me. A night's rest would be but momentary relief, if my poverty was to drive me away the next morning. Some means must be devised to avert such misery, and, if possible, to prove my respectability. I hastened out, and paced the dark street until a twinkling ray brought me to the window of a large shop. I looked in; its multifarious piles bespoke it the storehouse of some village money-maker. An old gray-headed man, with spectacles resting upon a rather large nose, was poring over his day-book or ledger by the aid of a farthing dip, whose twilight threw the greater part of the large room into an awful gloom. All within was as still as the pillowed glade of a deep-robed forest at midnight, when the lazy winds have sunk to sleep. This, thought I, is the place wherein to effect my barter. I approached the old man, and asked, with all the politeness that my embarrassment could afford, "if he would favour me with change for two farthings?" This dealer in all sorts, whose name was Jones, was reputed doubly careful in guarding against loss in this world's dealings. He was scrupulously nice in all accounts of profit and loss; and in my case he could not see that a fraction of advantage was to be gained by the accommodation. After a long pause, he declined the favour, saying, "I would rather keep my halfpenny." I was rather anxious for the exchange. To expose my poverty was not, under present

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circumstances, a thing to be proud of, so again I modestly pressed for the change. Are they good ones?" cautiously asked the old sugar-plum. The answer was "Yes." "Well," said he, "I must try; but I do not see what I am going to get by you: but I suppose you must have the halfpenny. I hope I am not going to do myself any harm by this transaction." I thanked him, buttoned down the money, and hastened back to "my inn!"

The landlady was a nice, cozy woman. She sat down with them by the fire, snuffed the candle, and talked of the stage-but not encouragingly: the very reverse. The poor players began to tremble as they thought of their reckoning; and the husband, in his alarm, introduced the subject of his skill in stencilling, and gave himself an excellent character as an artist. Before bedtime, I had the pleasure of receiving an order from her to " slap-dash" her parlour. Tired bones avaunt! the lodgings are already paid; yes, and a smell of the frying chop, to be purchased out of the surplus money, is already expanding our collapsed stomachs! We retired to bed without our hostess demanding the pay; we slept comfortably, and dreamed of bacon and tea-cakes. The next morning we were joined by our two companions from Blidworth: the sixpence furnished all of us with an excellent dinner.'

THE COCKROACH ON SHIPBOARD.

Most people, particularly if in warm situations, either from climate or local influence, know something of the cockroach; yet though pestered by its invasions, they At the risk of repeating what may be more or less known, may be unacquainted with some portions of its history. I shall venture a brief detail of my own observations, during an acquaintanceship of several years, when I lived in a very populous colony of the insect.

talis) belongs, is a very numerous and a very voracious The family Blatta, to which the cockroach (B. orienone; and I first got acquainted with the species on shipboard, during a long voyage to the East. The insect is of a reddish-brown colour, with a body about an inch the entire animal about three inches. Those who have and a third long, and antennæ somewhat longer, making not seen an entire specimen, may have noticed portions of its legs and wings amongst the brown sugar in daily use, as it is fond of sweets, and happens sometimes to get entombed amongst its food. On first leaving England, being winter, not a trace of the insect was observed; but as we drew near the tropics, a few in the evenings began to make their appearance. These had evidently been dormant in their hiding-places during the many months the vessel lay in dock, and, reanimated by the increased warmth, now issued forth to resume their predatory habits. Objects of observation and interest being limited at sea, I took a fancy to the rearing of cockroaches, just as persons at home, with a wider range [ of choice, take to rabbits or chaffinches, or as Baron Trenck did to his solitary spider. My warren or cage consisted of a large jelly-pot covered with muslin, so as to permit inspection, but prevent escape. Here I reared many from the egg to maturity, and had them constantly for several years under my eye.

The female, which is somewhat stouter and shorter than the male, after expelling the egg, carries it some days about with her, fixed to the abdomen, ere she glues it up in some corner to be hatched. A new-laid egg requires six or seven weeks for this purpose, and then gives birth to fourteen or sixteen young ones. The egg itself is about a third of an inch long, of a compressed cylindrical form: it has a serrature along one side, which opens at the proper time for the escape of the young brood; and the heads of the young are all placed towards it in a double row. After impregnation, the first egg is deposited in the course of eight or ten days, and the female continues every eight or ten days thereafter to deposit fruitful eggs for many months. If kept apart when arrived at maturity, she lays no eggs. At the end of six or seven weeks, according to the state of the weather, the eggs are hatched, and the larvæ liberated from

their enclosure. They are then about the size of a lintseed, whitish, semi-pellucid, and exceedingly tender, so as to be destroyed by the slightest touch. They have black eyes, and a darkish dull spot on the abdomen. In a few hours the skin hardens, and darkens in colour, from cream-colour to chestnut and deep brown, when the young insect runs nimbly about in quest of food. Like all the tribe, when in this the larva state, they are, as they grow, under the necessity of casting their skins; and this curious process I have often observed and admired. The animal retires to some quiet corner, away from its fellows, and fixes itself in a depending position by its hinder claws. Remaining motionless for a few minutes, it begins to swallow air, and goes on doing this to such an extent, that its skin, no longer able to withstand the bursting pressure, splits open along the thorax or back. After the exertion thus used, it is forced to rest a while, when commencing afresh, it manages to wriggle its head and fore part of the body out at the opening; the antennæ next follow to their very tips, then the legs, one after another, to the extremity of the claws, so that when completely extricated, the exuvia or cast skin is the exact counterpart of the animal it covered. When thus quit of its old covering, it suspends itself to it, completely exhausted, by the anal appendages. In this condition it is soft, white, and helpless; and if found by its neighbours, very apt to be eaten up. It, however, speedily regains strength; and its first act, on finding itself able, is to turn round and eat up the softer portions of its old skin. A new skin speedily begins to encrust it, increasing in strength as it deepens in colour, till in a few hours it possesses strength and colour equal to the one it has shed. As the body in the meantime is still enlarged by the swallowed air, the new skin partakes of that enlargement; and when the insect's stomach has disgorged its windy contents, these are replaced by more solid material, in the shape of food. How often the skin is shed and renewed during the larva state of the animal I was unable to determine, but the whole time occupied from hatching to maturity is from ten to sixteen months. Abundance of food and warmth expedite, and opposite circumstances retard, the final change. At the penultimate, or last shedding of the skin but one, the insect of course passes from the larva to the pupa state; but as is the case with many others of the tribe, there is no perceptible difference between the two, unless it be a little in point of size; and at the last shedding, when the pupa passes into the imago or perfect state, the difference at first scems as little, for the new wings are scarcely noticeable, rumpled up on its back. These, however, soon unfold, expand, and become strong, so that, in the space of half an hour, the animal so furnished assumes a very different aspect. I have stated that the insect in all its stages is of a deep ruddy brown colour, but occasionally a pupa may be seen beautifully speckled with interposed markings of pale yellow.

Notwithstanding the length of time which elapsed from the period of hatching to that of maturity, and the small apparent number that at first made their appearance on board, yet in little more than a year our vessel was literally swarming; and it may well be imagined that matters did not amend in this respect during the other two years of our voyage. They proved exceedingly annoying to us inmates of the wooden walls,' from their voracity, filthiness, and noisome smell, as no place on board was sacred from their intrusion; and where the large ones could not enter, the little ones crept in. Wherever we went, above, below, to the hold or the mast-head, there might some of their number be seen. They usually crawled about quietly during the day, or kept out of sight in their hidingplaces, but at nightfall exhibited their full force, and issued forth in shoals and nations.' At times during the night, and even sometimes during the day, the males, as if by one consent and impulse, bounced forth, fluttering their wings, and scampering along in irregular runs and short flights, striking one in the face, and crawling over his clothes,

up his coat-sleeves, and trousers. At these times they seemed perfectly indifferent about their personal safety, and could be caught and killed without trouble. After being about a couple of years at sea, my bed cabin was so grievously infested with their swarms, that I attempted to lessen their numbers by trapping and killing them. For this purpose I took a water ewer and baited it with a little treacle in its bottom; for of all sweets, and this in particular, they are exceedingly fond; and attracted by it during the night, they dropped in to satisfy their appetite. Once in, they could not again clamber up the steep, smooth sides of the vessel, and in this manner I had it filled, night after night, within two inches of the top; yet notwithstanding the thousands thus caught and destroyed, I found the task a fruitless one, for there was no perceptible diminution of their numbers. I had also a tame snipe which lived entirely on cockroaches, catching and gobbling them down with great expertness; but they at last repaid the favour in kind, by fastening on its breast when asleep, and eating the flesh off its bones.

For food the cockroaches scarcely refuse anything: in the destruction of books they are not inferior to the Goths and Vandals; and all sorts of paper, written and clean, except brown, afford them a meal. The best method of preserving books exposed to their ravages, is to cover them with clean washed cotton or linen cloth, which they will not touch; but if soiled with anything edible, they will gnaw it through in the soiled spots. Cork they like very well, and are not averse to rotten wood, especially if impregnated with oil, though the pure oil itself they do not touch; casks of oil have been lost by their perforations through the softer portions of the wood; and in fact all sorts of casks are liable to be thus unceremoniously tapped, if the contents suit their palates. They will make a meal off salt meat, if boiled, and are very fond of fresh, but indeed refuse no sort of animal matter their teeth can gnaw, and these are none of the softest; even birds' skins, smeared with arsenical soap, they will greedily devour, as I found to my cost. Biscuits are their delight, and they waste more than they eat; for not only do they drill them in holes, but smut them all over: so bad did our bread latterly become from this cause, that absolute want alone could have forced us to use it. Leather-covered trunks are stripped by them in a short time, and shoes pierced into holes; they drink ink, devour vellum, and batten on the ordure of fowls. A bit of their fellows affords a high relish, and one is no sooner wounded, and unable to defend itself, than he is lugged away and eaten up; but worse than all this, they attacked even us, the lords of creation, and frequently, during sleep, ate our flesh to the bone. Though no exposed part is free from their depredations, yet they are more particularly disposed to attack the points of the fingers adjoining the nails, where they nibble away the skin to the quick. They have their own likings too, and prefer certain individuals to others; so that while some have nothing to fear, others cannot fall asleep with any part of their person exposed without sustaining injury from their pincers. Often have I seen our chief officer get up in the morning with his neck and ears clotted with gore, whilst our third officer was scarcely if ever molested by them.

A ship much distressed by scurvy once put into Guam, part of whose crew, poor wretches, half dead in their hammocks, had their limbs literally eaten by cockroaches in holes to the bones; and a few who had died unobserved, or been gnawed to death, were taken out with the flesh half devoured. Great guns have been entered in logbooks as destroyed by cockroaches,' and the sailors declare that they eat the edge off their razors! The damp sea air and salt water had no doubt corroded the former into holes, where the insects found refuge; and licking the oil off the edge of the latter, they probably left a little moisture instead, which soon roughened and blunted the instrument.

Cockroaches, like all other animals, have their ene