his room, weltering in his blood, whilst a stranger was beating him about the head with a stone.

'I immediately gave the alarm,' continued he, 'and tried to arrest the murderer, closing with him; but the miscreant tripped me, and escaped. My coat became bloody. I rose and ran after him down stairs. You must have seen him, for he left the house just before me.' The gambler, who had in the meantime joined the waiter, remarked that he had not heard any alarm, nor had he seen anybody coming out of the house, and therefore he called the police. The constable went up with the solicitor to Mr Janish's lodgings, and found him senseless on the floor of his room, severely wounded on the temple. The house was carefully visited, but no trace of the alleged murderer being found, Mr Sainthall was taken in charge, and brought to the police-station. The inspector, well acquainted both with the social position of the solicitor and the somewhat suspicious character of the two witnesses against him, admitted him to bail; and when the case came before the magistrate, it was dismissed, the statement of the witnesses being too slight for substantiating the serious charge of a brutal murder against an educated man, whose account of the transaction, though in itself not entirely satisfactory, still outweighed the purely negative evidence of a waiter and a professional gambler. Some incidents certainly remained unaccounted for. Janish, a man of seventy, was a kind of unlicensed broker, often employed by usurers and gamblers of the lowest description. What could a man of Sainthall's standing have sought in his lodgings? If the transactions of any of his clients required a personal interview with the broker, he might have been sent for by a clerk. But, on the other side, what possible object could the solicitor have had in assaulting a man like Janish? Again, it was suspicious that, whilst Sainthall declared he had given the alarm, none of the inmates of the house had heard any noise or scuffle. All these questions were amply discussed at the coffee-houses and in the drawing-rooms; and the solution was looked for speedily, since Janish was not dead: and, in fact, although the surgeon entertained scarcely any hope when the old man was brought to the hospital, he began slowly to recover. Examined by the magistrate, he deposed that he could not tell anything whatever about the assault; that having been in a cellar tasting wine in the afternoon, he felt drowsy, and was dozing when he heard the door opened; and before he could recognise the person entering, he was stunned by a heavy blow on the head. As to the solicitor, he called him the most kind-hearted person he ever knew, and he disbelieved therefore the evidence of the two witnesses, who stated they had not seen any person but Sainthall coming out of the house. The solicitor seemed to feel a deep interest in the old man, and put a sum of money at the disposition of the surgeon of the hospital for providing the patient with small comforts and delicacies.

The whole affair began to sink into oblivion, when a new complication turned public attention once more on Sainthall. The Vienna police succeeded in tracing and arresting the two females who had posted the package with the poisonous chocolate at the parcels' delivery. They were the wife and daughter of Janish! Thunderstruck at hearing themselves charged with murder, they declared their innocence in the most emphatic way. According to their explanation, Janish, who for many years had lived apart from them at Pesth, came unexpectedly to Vienna on a visit, and gave them money, saying that he was sent all the way from Pesth by a gentleman with the sole object of having a sealed parcel posted without giving any name, and that he had received ten pounds for the errand besides his expenses. The females took the mysterious packet to the office of the parcels' delivery, and looking to the direction, found it rather strange

that, coming originally from Pesth, it was to be sent to a country-town in the neighbourhood of that city, but more than 250 miles from Vienna. Still, accustomed not to mind other people's business, they posted the parcel without suspicion.

As the character of the two females was not very reputable, their statement did not find much credit. Orders were given to put Janish under arrest, and to examine him about the affair. The old man was still in the hospital, and, without knowing anything about the depositions of his wife and daughter, corroborated their statement in every particular; but when informed that the parcel posted by them had caused the death of Mr A-, he suddenly exclaimed: 'If this be the case, the man who assaulted me must have been Sainthall, for it was he who gave me the commission to post the parcel.'

The excitement created all over the country by this revelation baffles description. It was just at that period that, in consequence of the congress of Verona, steps were taken by the court of Vienna to supersede representative government and other free institutions in Hungary. Several successive orders in council had been issued, all of them unconstitutional, and none bearing the signature of the chancellor. It was known that the highly respected old Prince Koháry, who at that time held the post of a keeper of the emperor's conscience, had refused to sign the decrees, which therefore were issued by the vice-chancellor, Count A , the head of the family to which the poisoned Mr A- belonged. The count had never been rich, and was now embarrassed in his finances, whilst the junior branch possessed great wealth. After the decease of Mr A, this was represented only by a sickly child, at whose probable death the extensive estates of the family would have devolved upon the elder branch. The public connected likewise the death of Mr A-'s father, which had been suspiciously sudden, with the undoubted poisoning of the son. Everybody at Pesth well remembered that old Mr A, scarcely six months before, had died in a box at the theatre, of an apoplectic fit, as the physicians said, but certainly immediately after having taken a glass of lemonade offered to him by Sainthall, who, being the solicitor of the family, stood in continuous intercourse with both branches of the A- family, with the count as well as his unfortunate kinsmen. It was openly said that Sainthall could not have had any personal motive in poisoning his clients, unless as a tool of the count. Exaggerated reports of the case spread like wildfire all over the country, and damaged the count. The case assumed a political character, and an impartial, thorough-going inquest became of the highest importance, not only as a matter of justice, but even of policy. Amidst the general excitement, Mr Sainthall seemed altogether unconcerned by the grave accusations brought against him. With his usual coolness, he refused to put his case into the hands of a lawyer, and conducted it in person with the greatest ability. No further proofs against him could be found; Janish was unable, by any circumstantial evidence, to corroborate his statements, and the crime remained wrapped in the most complete mystery. At last, a new incident led to the arrest of the solicitor. At the hospital where Janish still lay, a female was discovered nursing him who did not belong to the institution, and had entered under false pretences. The police knew her at once as living with a barber, in whose premises arsenic was found, together with some papers bearing a resemblance to the letter enclosed in the fatal packet of chocolate. Here, then, was at last a clue to the mystery. The barber was arrested and brought before the police magistrate, where he at once acknowledged that Sainthall had lent him money for the rent of his shop, but he denied altogether any cognizance of

the forged letter. Still, this indication led to no result, and the researches of justice were baffled, since the female and the barber made their escape on the following night, accompanied by the turnkey of the jail.

Sainthall's trial lasted fully two years. There is no jury in the Austrian dominions; prosecution and defence are carried on by written allegations and numerous replies. During this interval, the political excitement subsided, the Emperor Francis having apologised for his encroachments upon the constitution; Count A-, who was to be impeached by the Hungarian parliament, died at Vienna; Janish died in the hospital; and Mr Sainthall was sentenced to three years' imprisonment for his murderous assault on the broker: but the charge of poisoning Mr A was found not proven.' His subsequent life was miserable: shunned by all persons of respectability, he fell into low society, and became the legal adviser of usurers, gamblers, and swindlers, until last year, when a forgery he could not disprove, brought him back to the cell he had inhabited previously. Such was the career of a man who, had his high mental capacity been coupled with moral principle, might have risen to eminence among his countrymen.

FEMALE CONVICTS AT BRIXTON. We have rarely met with a more interesting or more suggestive work than Mr Henry Mayhew's Great World of London, now publishing by Mr Bogue in shilling parts. The account of the female convictprison at Brixton, in Part IV., is particularly good, and exhibits the peculiarities of the sex in a way that sometimes provokes a smile-to be followed soon, however, by a tear. The fondness of the wretched women for the becoming in dress, appears to be carefully fostered by the taste of those who hold them in thrall. Their dress consisted of a loose, dark, claretbrown robe or gown, with a blue check-apron and neckerchief, while the cap they wore was a small, close, white muslin one, made after the fashion of a French bonne's. The colour of the gown was at once rich and artistically appropriate, and gave great value to the tints of the apron, and even the whiteness of the cap itself. On their arms the prisoners carried some bright brass figures, representing their register number; while some bore, above these, badges in black and white, inscribed one or two, according as they belonged to the first or second class of convicts.' One of the female keepers considered the vanity of some of these women 'curious;' but we see nothing curious in the matter, except the expedients they fall upon for indulging it. "Those straw-bonnets,' said the keeper, 'none of them can bear, and it is as much as ever we can do to make them put them on when they are going to see the doctor. They think they look much better in their caps. One woman, I give you my word, took the ropes off her hammock, and put them round the bottom of her dress, so as to make the skirt seem fuller. Another one had filled her gown with coals round the bottom for the same object; and others, again, have taken the wire from round the dinner-cans, and used it as stiffners to their stays. One actually took the tinfoil from under the buttons, and made it into a ring. You would hardly believe it, perhaps, but I have known women scrape the walls of their cells, and use the powder of the whitewash to whiten their complexion. Indeed, there is hardly any trick they would not be at if we did not keep a sharp eye upon them.'

The grand pleasure, the grand excitement of the poor things, is receiving a letter from their friends. The chaplain's clerk, a pleasant-looking young woman, is the post-woman, and she described her task as the most agreeable of all their duties. 'No one knows but ourselves,' said she, 'how the prisoners look

forward to the arrival of their letters;' and when she put one under the door of a cell, calling to the inmate that she had done so, our author was thrilled with the scream of delight that burst from the heart of the captive. When the expected letter does not come, we are told that they sat and moped over the disappointment, day after day, till they probably worked themselves up into such a fury as to break and tear up everything about them. Almost all the convicts have a fancy receptacle for such treasures, made by themselves in the form of a large watch-pocket, and hung up in their cells. It is to that they apply in their times of depression. They sit down, and taking out the priceless documents, read them over again, perhaps for the hundredth time, as the only consolation this world has for them.

'O yes,' said the lady-governor, 'I find them very sensitive to family ties, and I am often touched myself to think such wicked creatures should have such tender feelings!' These wicked creatures were mostly all thieves, but in general they had led otherwise abandoned lives, and some were dreeing their weird for graver crimes.

""This one coming towards us," whispered the principal matron, "is in for life, for the murder of her child. You wouldn't think it, would you, sir, to look at her?" and assuredly there was no trace of brutal ferocity in her countenance. "Her conduct here has been always excellent-she's as gentle as a lamb; I really think she's sincerely penitent. That one now approaching us," she added, "is one of the worsttempered girls in the whole prison. By her smile, you would take her to be the very opposite to what she is.-Yonder woman," continued the matron, "is one of the best we have here, and yet she's in for biting off a man's ear; but the man had been trying to injure her very much before she was roused to it." The women so pointed out were exercising in the grounds with the rest of the 200 convicts. All were pacing in couples among the grass-plots and flowerbeds-for the airing-yard as well as the prison-dress is indebted to the taste of the authorities-and 'chatting as they go like a large school, so that the yard positively rings as if it were a market-place.' They had all a neat and cleanly look, in spite of the strawbonnets of their aversion, and were remarkable for the tidiness of their shoes and stockings.

The chapel is another instance of taste, being at once simple and handsome; and in the opinion of our kindhearted and observant author, there can hardly be a prettier or more touching sight in the world than it presents when filled with its convict congregation, joining with womanly ardour in the service. All eyes were fixed upon the chaplain: the unhappy women listened to him as to a father with the faith of children; and the confessions of sin and supplications for mercy uttered in the general responses of these unfortunates, drew forth irresistibly from the looker-on his own prayers for their forgiveness to swell the common cry. The minister of the chapel well deserves to be looked up to as a father. His visit to the nursery of the prison, incidentally mentioned, is quite touching, when all the little creatures, recognising their friend, instantly toddled up to him, and were taken into his arms and kissed one by one. 'As we left the room,' says Mr Mayhew, the matron whispered to us that the pictures for the children, hanging up against the wall, were given by the clergyman. And when we returned to the nursery, later in the day, we found the mothers at work at some new frocks that the chaplain's daughter had presented to the poor little things.' Indeed his family was as well beloved by the prisoners as himself. The young people had evidently made themselves acquainted with the history of each wretched woman under their father's care; and while the sons displayed no little interest in the

chaplain's duty, the daughter spoke of the poor fallen women with exquisite tenderness, and delighted to recount to us how some of the convicts had been reclaimed, and how little the world really knew of the trials and temptations of such characters.'

We have only to add, that out of 200 of the convict women liberated on ticket-of-leave, only four were recommitted; and even these four the lady-governor could hardly believe to be guilty, 'the police are so sharp with the poor things.' On being brought back, the women were in agonies of shame; and one, the mother of twins, gave herself so completely up to despair as to attempt her life several times. If we understand the lady correctly, her opinion is, that the police, proceeding on a foregone conclusion, fix their fangs in the wretched creatures because they are ticketof-leave women, and persecute them till they are convicted on little more than the evidence of former bad character. This should be looked into searchingly by the authorities, as it implies a charge against the police of almost inconceivable cowardice and brutality.

TO STAND GODFATHER. THERE are everywhere social customs which may be regarded as so many snares laid for the incautious inhabitant or the ignorant foreigner; but no country is so rich in this respect as la belle France. Having been lately the victim of one of these traditional traps, I will describe it here, in order to warn others against it.

and touching them she consulted a famous somnambulist, who predicted that the baby would be very fortunate if it had a happy godfather. We have been on the look-out ever since among our friends and acquaintances for the most prosperous. But this is difficult: one has too many children; another none at all; a third has a cross wife; a fourth has speculated in the funds: in short, there is not one in the whole circle who would exclaim, with Candide's metaphysical pedagogue, that all is for the best in this best of worlds. At length it struck Madame Poupart that you are a true child of fortune-a thoroughly lucky man.'-I acknowledged the compliment by bowing in silence. Yes, you-a bachelor, without cares or anxieties of any kind, enjoying good health and a fine independence--you stand in the very sunshine of fortune; and therefore I ask you, in my own name and that of my wife, to stand godfather to our child.'

At first I declined politely, thinking the request a little curious; but M. de Poupart called it a trifle -although he should feel much obliged; and there is always something so touching even in maternal weakness and superstition, that I assented at last. As Roman Catholics are accustomed to baptise their children as soon as possible, the ceremony was fixed for the next day but one, and was to take place at the venerable church of St Roch. There was no time to be lost; and, being thoroughly ignorant of French manners and usages, I applied the next morning to Madame de Grandville, and begged her to tell me what I was to do. She was exceedingly kind; assured me that the invitation was a token of high consideration on the part of M. and Madame de Poupart, and said there was nothing at all to do but to make a few trifling presents. Besides, I was to enjoy the good-fortune of having one of the most elegant and beautiful young ladies of Paris-that is to say, her own dear niece-as partner in the ceremony, for she was to stand godmother. The obliging lady immediately wrote a memorandum of what was wanted, addressed to the director of La Belle Jardinière, a very fashion

One evening, I was comfortably seated in my fauteuil à la Voltaire, perusing one of those papers which are read with as little attention as they are written by the journalists themselves, and which Lamartine has described as cet écho du matin que le soir on oublie, when the bell rang at my door. On opening, I recognised my first-floor neighbour, the amiable M. de Poupart; and after the usual salutations, the following conversation took place between us :

'Excuse me, sir,' said M. de Poupart, 'for interrupting you at so late an hour; and an apology is the more necessary, because I am about to commit an indiscretion.'

'I am glad to hear it,' said I; for I was afraid at first some misfortune might have happened to madame.'

"O no, thank you; she is as well as can be expected in her situation; for I have come to say, that since the afternoon I have had the good-fortune to become the father of a most beautiful baby-a chubby, rosy little fellow.'

'I'm glad to hear it: pray accept for both madame and you my best congratulations and most sincere good wishes.'

'A thousand thanks,' said my obliging neighbour; ' and in connection with that happy event, I have just something very trifling to ask of you. My good wife, as you must be aware, is a little inclined to superstition, and the convent-education she received has not done much towards lessening that disposition. You may imagine with what anxiety she pondered over the future destinies of our expected first-born,

it. She would look after the rest herself. I returned thanks, took the billet, and drove hastily to the elegant shop.

A very engaging demoiselle de boutique (at home we call her a shop-woman) read the letter, and shewed me at once a charming_godchild's basket. It was lovely indeed, but it cost L.4. Nothing else would do, said the pretty demoiselle, and so I took it. Then she herself chose a beautiful box, the perfume of which was exquisite, and filled it gracefully with two dozen pair of fine gloves, two fans-one a precious antique, and the other an artistic modern one-several phials of essences, and a necklace of Turkish pearls. She handed me at the same time a handsome bill-written on glazed paper, adorned with an engraving in goldand the different items amounting to L.17. I did not dare to raise an objection, as this pretty box was destined for my elegant partner, and I took, reluctantly, I must confess, twenty-one napoleons out of my purse.

I thought this was behaving pretty well, and went triumphantly to Madame de Grandville, who did not look absolutely delighted.

'The box,' she remarked, though not at all rich, is handsome, and I hope your fair lady will receive it with pleasure. But see, here are the beautiful little presents I have bought for you to give the accouchée: fifty francs-worth of bonbons and sweets of the best description, to fill the basket and divide among the guests; a bronze night-lamp by Cain, and a silver bowl engraved by Froment-Meurice-the two for twenty louis: you could not offer less to a lady of fifty thousand francs a year; for the nurse, a cap of real

lace, five louis-a mere nothing; for the nursery-maid, this French shawl-that is enough for her. I should have liked to buy something besides for the baby, but we must do things as simply as possible.'

I stood amazed. It cost me more than L.100, that Madame de Poupart had consulted a somnambulist, and thought me a lucky fellow. And, besides, there lay before me a frightful series of étrennes, to be given every year to my blessed godchild. But what could I do? The pill was bitter indeed, but I was obliged to swallow it with the best grace I could. I had pledged my word, and fallen into the snare.

The happy day arrived, and in the morning I received a beautiful bouquet from Madame de Grandville's elegant niece. I thought it ugly, for it cost too much. I had the honour of fetching the blooming lady in a carriage, and we drove to the church; the godmother having put my necklace of Turkish pearls round her fair neck, and I holding her flowers in my hand. My costly presents had been thankfully received by the young mother, the nurse, and the nursery-maid, and my good taste was much applauded. In the church, a new series began. Before the child was christened, I had to give a wax-taper to the cure, an offering to the vicaire, pour-boires to the sexton, the choristers, the suisse, the sacristan, the door-keeper, the giver of holy-water; besides alms for the poor of the parish, the wants of the church, the missions, the convents, &c. I thought it would never come to an end. At last the baby was duly received into the Christian community, and we went away, the suisse preceding us with great pomp, and striking his cane against the pavement of the holy building in a masterly way. I hung my head, for my purse was empty; and, besides, I had the mortification to see that another name than mine was entered in the parish-register, because I did not belong to the Catholic persuasion, and to hear that my godchild did not even bear my name: for who in France would consent to have a son called Peter? Désiré-Eugène is much prettier and more modern.

So I had spent about 120 guineas for a compliment from Madame de Poupart, a courtesy from the nurse, a nosegay from the godmother, and a flourish from a suisse with a cocked-hat. I found these rather expensive honours, and declared inwardly, like the poor raven in La Fontaine's fable, Mais un peu tard, qu'on ne m'y prendrait plus.

OPPOSITION TO VACCINATION.

'DR SQUIRRELL earnestly and publicly supplicated his majesty George III. to suppress "the destructive practice of vaccine inoculation throughout his dominions." "It ought," observed Professor Monro of Edinburgh, "to be prohibited by act of parliament." "The College of Physicians have," exclaimed Dr Moseley, "a duty to perform, and I trust this business will not escape them." Others, despairing of king, parliament, or colleges, appealed to the people themselves. "It would," said Dr Brown, "undoubtedly be downright madness to imagine they will condescend to encourage it." The Anti-vaccinarian Society called upon the public "to second their efforts in supporting the cause of humanity against cow-pox injuries," and besought their aid to suppress "the cruel despotic tyranny of forcing cow-pox misery on the innocent babes of the poor-a gross violation of religion, morality, law, and humanity."

'Frightful and even fatal consequences were boldly averred to be the direct and immediate results of vaccination. Deaths from cow-pox inoculation were published in the mortality-bills of London. "I have," alleged Dr Moseley, physician to the Chelsea Hospital, "seen children die of the cow-pox without losing the sense of torment even in the article of death." Dr Rowley, physician to the Marylebone Infirmary, professed to publish true accounts of fifty-nine deaths from "cruel vaccination;" and added, that "when humanity reflects" on these and

(to use his own words) "a great heap of victims diseased for life, and likely to transmit to posterity for ages beastly chronic diseases, it is enough to freeze the soul with horror." The same author wrote a pamphlet denouncing vaccination, on account of the ulcerations and mortifications to which it gave rise. 'Blindness,' he says, 'lameness, and deformity, had been the result of employing the vaccine in innumerable instances, and its fatal poison had removed many an infant untimely from the world.' ""Various beastly diseases," writes Dr Rowley, "common to cattle, have appeared among the human species since the introduction of cow-pox-cow-pox mange, cow-pox abscess, cow-pox ulcer, cow-pox gangrene, cow-pox mortification, and enormous hideous swellings of the face, resembling the countenance of an ox with the eyes distorted, and eyelids forced out of their true situation; diseased joints, &c." Some, after vaccination, were actually supposed to "cough like cows," and "bellow like bulls." Nor were theological reasons, of course, wanting for calling in question the orthodoxy of vaccination, as of other new discoveries and practices. "Small-pox," argues Dr Rowley," is a visitation from God, and originates in man; but the cow-pox is produced by presumptuous, impious man. The former, Heaven ordained; the latter is perhaps a daring and profane violation of our holy religion." "The projects of these vaccinators seem," it was affirmed, "to bid bold defiance to Heaven itself, even to the will of God." "The vaccine," exclaimed one of its enemies, "was the damnedest thing ever proposed; he wished the inventors were all hanged, and he would give his vote for its being done." Strong pictures were hung up to the public eye of the miseries it would infallibly lead to in case of the recurrence of epidemic "In many families," writes an author whom small-pox. I have already quoted, "there will be none to attend the sick; nurses will quit their patients for their own safety, and servants will fly from their masters' houses to shun the pestilence. Then we shall experience a horrid scene of public and private calamity-brought on by a medical by a rash transgression over the bounds of reason; and experiment, embraced without due consideration, extended after the fullest conviction of its inutility, obstinately continued by the most degrading relapse of philosophy that ever disgraced a civilised world."-Dr J. Y. Simpson's Medical Writings, edited by Drs Priestley and Storer.

FAY-FLOWERS.

I HAVE won a garden from Elf-land,
Where feathery fern-leaves wave,
And a flower, named but by the fairy-folk,
Lifts up its lances brave-

Its crimson lances, all crystal clear,

Plumed with a sea-green crown,
And another that bears on an ivory stalk
Gray tufts of silvery down.

Here cluster garlands of orbèd leaves
That shadow with tapestry green
Bright orange cups, with their purple hearts
Frosted with diamond sheen-

Or delicate bells, like the opal gauze
Of the May-fly's shimmering wing-
A faëry chaplet all scented soft

With the primrose breath of Spring;

And velvet verdure spreads richly deep
Where those elfin flow'rets shine-
Though 'tis only a patch of woodland moss
To any eye but mine!

ELIZA CRAVEN GREEN.

Printed and Published by W. and R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBurgh. Also sold by JAMES FRASER, 14 D'Olier Street, DUBLIN, and all Booksellers.

OF POPULAR

LITERATURE

No. 132.

DOCTORS DIFFER. We have had a remarkable illustration of the proverb in a late trial. The symptoms at the death of Cook were the same as those seen in animals killed by strychnine, says Dr A. S. Taylor, lecturer on medical jurisprudence at Guy's Hospital. The symptoms were irreconcilable with every disease I am acquainted with-the vomiting in particular irreconcilable with strychnine, says Dr Letheby, medical officer of health to the city of London. If strychnine has been taken in a sufficient dose to poison, it ought to be discovered in the body, if the proper tests be used, says Mr W. Herapath, professor of chemistry and toxicology at the Bristol Medical School. I have no hesitation in saying that strychnine is, of all poisons, mineral or vegetable, the most easy of detection, says Dr Letheby. When death is the consequence of the administration of strychnia, if the quantity is small, I should not expect to find any trace in the body after death, says Dr Christison, Professor of Materia Medica in the University of Edinburgh, and author of a laborious work on poisons. In several cases of animals which I poisoned by strychnine, I could discover no trace of it in the body-the cause is that the poison is absorbed into the blood, and changed: so pronounces the above Dr Taylor. In forty animals killed by strychnia which I have examined, I invariably found the heart full on the right side [a result arising from death by asphyxia], declares Mr Nunneley, professor of surgery at Leeds. I have examined the interior of animals that have been killed by strychnine; but I have not observed in such cases that the right side of the heart was usually full of blood: thus pronounces Dr Todd, physician of King's College Hospital. A bad state of health, leading to nervous irritation, and this followed by a convulsive disease-such is the view which Mr Nunneley takes of the cause of Cook's death. I have never seen a case in which the symptoms that I have heard described here, arose from any disease, avers, on the other hand, Sir Benjamin Brodie, a surgeon of unusually large experience. When men having these eminent positions in the medical world differ so widely, or rather so flatly contradict each other, most people out of the profession receive a shock as to the faith to be placed in the doctor. The affair leaves a decidedly uncomfortable feeling in the public mind.

Yet this variance amongst medical men is no greater than that which is occasionally revealed as existing among other groups of the learned. In July 1853, a litigation took place in the Scotch Court of Session regarding a mineral called gas-coal, which had been

PRICE 1d.

leased on the estate of Torbanehill, and had proved a source of extraordinary profit. The landlord, alleging that this mineral was not coal, or any other of the minerals which had been specified, but a wholly different article of superior value, claimed L.10,000 damages for its having been worked during the preceding three years. The great question brought before the jury was Is this mineral properly coal or not? If coal, then the leaseholder was clearly entitled to raise it. If not coal, then, according to the landlord's view of the matter, he was not entitled to dig for it. The presiding judge ultimately recommended the jury to decide the matter according to their conception of what was contemplated between the two parties in the lease; and they gave a verdict for the leaseholder accordingly. But this is not what we have here to remark upon. What we have now to recall to our readers is, the startling discrepancy of opinion as to the nature of the mineral which appeared among the scientific men brought forward as witnesses. Professor Ansted, mining-geologist, said it had not the essential qualities of coal. Professor Brande, a chemist, finding 70 per cent. of volatile matter in the Torbanehill mineral, and only 21 per cent. in Newcastle coal, besides some other differences, pronounced the former to be not coal. Professor Anderson, of Glasgow, another chemist, stated that coal is black, with a conchoidal fracture; this mineral is brown, with a slaty fracture. For these and other reasons, this mineral is not coal. It is different even from cannel-coal, which comes nearest to it in character. According to Mr Milne Home, an amateur geologist of eminence, the mineral was a bituminous shale, not coal. Mr Chapman, professor of mineralogy at Toronto, deemed it a clay impregnated with inflammable matter; it could not be called coal. Mr Hugh Miller, author of The Old Red Sandstone, finding the mineral deficient in a fixed carbonaceous base, while it possessed, what all true coals wanted, a base of earth, was of opinion that it was not coal. Two other geologists pronounced to nearly the same effect. Then came the ingenious George Wilson, how Professor of Technology in the University of Edinburgh, who thought that it was not coal, seeing it left no available coke. Professor Queckett, and two other microscopists, repudiated it as coal, because it had not the proper organic structure under their glasses, presenting no trace of a vegetable origin. Finally came a troop of practical men, who all had decided objections to calling such a thing coal.

But then there immediately followed a long series of scientific men, equally reputable with the above, who found the substance to be coal. The learned and veteran naturalist, Professor John Fleming, considered