OUR knowledge of comets, notwithstanding the pro- | gress it has made within the last two centuries, is still very imperfect. The unfrequency of their appearance, combined with the irregular courses in which they move, renders it improbable that we should correctly ascertain their nature, or be certain of what they are formed, and it would, therefore, be a mere speculation, to endeavour to define them. They form, however, a part of our solar system, and appear to have solid dark bodies, (more generally called "nuclei,") with long shining tails, or trains of silvery light, always opposite to the sun, and becoming of a fainter lustre the further they are removed from it. The appearances of comets vary according to their positions with regard to the sun and earth. If the comet be eastward of the sun, and move from it, the bright train precedes the nucleus, or body, after the fashion of a beard, and hence arises the popular name of a "bearded comet." Again, if the comet be westward of the sun, and mcve towards it, the tail then follows the body, and is termed a "tailed comet ;" and, lastly, if the comet and sun be exactly opposite, (that is, if the earth be between those two bodies) the tail is then behind the body, and appears around it in a misty hairy form, hence called a "hairy comet." The comet of 1804 is a remarkable instance of this latter division. It preVOL, I,

sented a misty foggy appearance without any visible nucleus, and, according to M. Arago, the French astronomer, who has very learnedly discussed this subject, was about 2000 leagues in diameter. Great doubts are entertained with respect to the existence of a solid and dark body in the central part of these vapourous appearances, stars having been seen through the comet, which could not have been the case if any solid body existed. Sir W. Herschel, in 1795, saw a star of the sixth magnitude through the midst of a comet, and some astronomers agree in support of this point. But the general belief is, that the bodies of comets are solid, as other astronomers have observed that stars have been eclipsed by them.

The bodies of comets apparently resemble the face of a planet, both as to lustre and form. Their diameters vary considerably: thus the nucleus of the comet of 1798 was eleven leagues in diameter, whilst the remarkable comet of 1811 was 1089 leagues. The tails become wider and wider, as they lengthen out from the comet, and often occupy immense spaces. The comet of 1811 had a tail of twentythree degrees, that of 1680 was ninety degrees in length, whilst that of 1769 was ninety-seven degrees; and, as M. Arago says, these last two might have actually set below the horizon whilst their tails were

19

The motion of comets is round the sun, though in very irregular ovals, and returning at certain periodical times*. The rapidity with which they move is immense; and, like the planets, they move faster the nearer they are to the sun. But little can be said of the causes which produce the tails of comets, of their forms, or of the nature of their light. Some popular opinions, however, prevail with regard to the effects of heat produced by comets, which appear erroneous, as well as the supposition that the tides are influenced by these bodies. The moon is the acknowledged cause of the tides; and if we take the comet of 1811 for example, with which the greater part of our readers will be familiar,-in proportion to the influence of the moon, the effect of this body on the tides should have been perceptible, which we do not find by the nicest observations to have been the case; and, as regards the heat, it does not appear that there is any connexion between the presence of these bodies and any increase of temperature in our atmosphere.

The number of comets known in our system exceeds ninety; their times of appearing vary considerably. The comet, called Biela's comet, was discovered on the 27th of February, 1826, by M. Biela, of Josephstadt. It performs its journey round the sun in about six years and three-quarters. Its nearest approach to the earth will take place on the 25th of this month (October), when it will be about fifty-one millions of miles distant from us. On the 29th of November, it will be at its perihelion, or nearest approach to the sun, and will be distant from it about eightythree and a-half millions of miles. Its motion is very rapid, and, at the time of its perihelion, its daily velocity will be equal to 2,456,000 miles, or its hourly motion 102,300 miles, and, consequently, its motion in one second will exceed twenty-seven miles.

* This rule will only apply to the case of the comet moving in an oval; if its motion be parabolic, (like that of a wheel travelling along a road,) as is suspected to be the case with some, it can never return again.

A SAILOR'S FUNERAL.

VERY shortly after poor Jack dies, he is prepared for his deep sea grave by his messmates, who, with the assistance of the sail-maker, and in the presence of the master-atarms, sew him up in his hammock, and having placed a couple of cannon-shot at his feet, they rest the body (which now not a little resembles an Egyptian mummy) on a spare grating. Some portion of the bedding and clothes are always made up in the package-apparently to prevent the form being too much seen. It is then carried aft, and being placed across the after-hatchway, the union jack is thrown over all. Sometimes it is placed between two of the guns, under the half-deck; but generally, I think, it is laid where I have mentioned, just abaft the mainmast. I should have mentioned before, that as soon as the surgeon's ineffectual professional offices are at an end, he walks to the quarter-deck, and reports to the officer of the watch that one of his patients has just expired. At whatever hour of the day or night this occurs, the captain is immediately made acquainted with the circumstance.Next day, generally about eleven o'clock, the bell on which the half-hours are struck, is tolled for the funeral, and all who choose to be present, assemble on the gangways, booms, and round the mainmast, while the forepart of the quarter-deck is occupied by the officers. While the people are repairing to the quarter-deck, in obedience to the summons of the bell, the grating on which the body is placed, being lifted from the main-deck by the messmates of the man who has died, is made to rest on the leegangway. The stanchions for the man-ropes of the sides are unshipped, and an opening made at the after-end of the hammock netting, sufficiently large to allow a free

passage. The body is still covered by the flag already mentioned, with the feet projecting a little over the gunwale while the messmates of the deceased arrange themselves on each side. A rope, which is kept out of sight in these arrangements, is then made fast to the grating, for a purpose which will be seen presently.

When all is ready, the chaplain, if there be one on board, or, if not, the captain, or any of the officers he may direct to officiate, appears on the quarter-deck and commences the beautiful service, which, though but too familiar to most ears, I have observed, never fails to rivet the attention even of the rudest and least reflecting. The land service for the burial of the dead contains the following words: Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God, of his great mercy, to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; has attended the funeral of a friend-and whom will this in sure and certain hope,' &c. Every one, I am sure, who not include ?-must recollect the solemnity of that stage of the ceremony, where, as the above words are pronounced, there are cast into the grave three successive portions of earth, which, falling on the coffin, send up a hollow, mournful sound, resembling no other that I know.

In the burial service at sea, the part quoted above is varied in the following very striking and solemn manner: 'Forasmuch,' &c. we therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the sea shall give up her dead, and the life of the world to come,' &c. At the commencement of this part of the service, one of the seamen stoops down, and disengages the flag from the remains of his late shipmate, while the others, at the words we commit his body to the deep,' project the grating right into the sea. body being loaded with shot at one end, glances off the grating, plunges at once into the ocean, and—

In a moment, like a drop of rain,

He sinks into its depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.

The

HALL'S Fragments of Voyages and Travels.

SUNDAY. -JUDGE HALE. IT is strange that persons should be found, who think it worth their while to bring forward arguments to depreciate the importance of the due observance of the Lord's day. Such arguments will be found, on examination, to be unworthy of the slightest attention; for, besides the sin which is avoided, what human being was ever any thing but the better for paying due honour to this day?—and how many thousands have confessed that the neglect of it was the first step towards their entire ruin! So fitting and convenient an institution is it to the cir cumstances of man, in this his earthly pilgrimage, that supposing, for the sake of argument, its appointment had not entered into the scheme of Divine Pro

vidence, most assuredly that man would have been esteemed a wise and merciful legislator, who should first have introduced a human law for setting apart one day out of seven, for the relief of the body and the refreshment of the soul.

None are more interested in the observance of this

day than the working classes. It is painful to see them deprived of any portion of the rest they so greatly need, by the want of consideration, or something worse, of those who employ them. Why are the working people seen crowding to shops on the Sunday morning, to supply their wants, but because, in so many cases, the masters pay them their wages at a late hour on the Saturday night? If every labouring man had his wages in his pocket by six o'clock on the Saturday evening, he would have no occasion to break the law of God and man on the Sunday morning. The shopkeeper, too, is as much inconvenienced by this practice as the labourer. He gets no benefit from the Sunday's traffic,-he would sell just as much, if the purchases were made on the Saturday; he and his household are disturbed without advantage or com

It is useful to hear what men of good lives and great parts and experience say of these matters. Great Britain never produced a better Judge or more excellent man, than Sir Matthew Hale. Amidst great public changes, he was respected by all ranks, and trusted by all parties. His lessons of wisdom were founded, firstly, on his own good principles; and, secondly, on his extensive observation of what was passing around him. After great practical experience in the business of life, he thus writes to his children concerning the observance of the Sunday" I have, by long and sound experience, found, that the due observance of this day, and of the duties of it, has been of singular comfort and advantage to me; and I doubt not but it will prove so to you. God Almighty is the Lord of our time, and lends it to us; and, as it is but just we should consecrate this part of that time to him, so I have found, by a strict and diligent observation, that a due observation of the duty of this day hath ever had joined to it a blessing upon the rest of my time; and the week that hath been so begun, hath been blessed and prosperous to me: and, on the other side, when I have been negligent of the duties of this day, the rest of the week has been unsuccessful and unhappy to my own secular enjoyments; so that I could easily make an estimate of my successes in my own secular employments the week following, by the manner of my passing of this day; and this I do not write lightly or inconsiderately, but upon a long and sound observation and experience."

MONEY.

WHAT a useful thing is money! If there were no such thing as money, we should be much at a loss to get any thing we might want. The shoemaker, for instance, who might want bread, and meat, and beer, for his family, would have nothing to give in exchange but shoes. He must go the baker, and offer him a pair of shoes for as much bread as they were worth and he must do the same thing if he went to the butcher for meat, or to the brewer for beer.

But the baker might happen not to want shoes just then, though he might want a hat. Then the shoemaker must find out some hatter who wanted shoes,, and get a hat from him, and then exchange the hat with the baker for bread.

All this would be very troublesome. But by the use of money this trouble is saved. Any one who has money may get for it just what he may chance to want. The baker is always willing to part with his bread for money; because he knows that he may exchange that for shoes, or for a hat, or for firing, or any thing he is in want of. What time and trouble it must have cost men to exchange one thing for another before money was in use!

We are cautioned in Scripture against the too great love of money. It is a foolish and wicked thing to set your heart on money, or on any thing in this present world. Some set their hearts on eating and drinking, and some on fine clothes. All these things are apt to draw off our thoughts from God. Therefore our Lord Jesus Christ tells us to "lay up for ourselves treasure in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt," and forbids us to be too careful and anxious "what we shall eat and what we shall drink, or how we shall be clothed," but to "seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness."

But we ought to be thankful for all the good things which Providence gives us, and to be careful to make a right use of them. The best use of wealth, and

use.

It is for this purpose that money is of the greatest For a poor man may chance to be in want of something which I may not have to spare. But if I give him money, he can get just what he wants for that: whether bread, or clothes, or coals, or books. When there was a great famine in Judæa, in the time of the Apostle Paul, the Greek Christians thought fit to relieve the poor saints (that is, Christians) that were in Judæa. But it would have been a great trouble to send them corn to such a distance; and besides, they themselves might not have had corn tɔ spare. But they made a collection of money, which takes little room; and Paul carried it to Judæa; and with this money the poor people could buy corn wherever it was to be had.

EXCHANGES.

BUT why should not each man make what he wants for himself, without going to his neighbour's to buy it? Go into the shoemaker's shop, and ask him why he does not make tables and chairs for himself, and hats, and coats, and every thing he wants. He will tell you, that he must have a complete set of joiner's tools to make one chair properly; the same tools as would serve to make hundreds of chairs. And if he were also to make the tools himself, and the nails, he would want a smith's forge, and anvil, and hammer. And after all, it would cost him great labour to make very clumsy tools and chairs, because he has not been used to that kind of work. It would be less trouble to him to make shoes that would sell for as much as would buy a dozen chairs, than to make one chair himself. To the joiner, again, it would be as great a loss to attempt making shoes for himself. And so it is with the tailor, the hatter, and all other trades. It is best for all, that each should work in his own way, and supply his neighbours, while they supply him.

But there are some rude nations who have very little of this kind of exchange. Each man among them builds himself a cabin, and makes clothes for himself, and a canoe to go a-fishing in, and fishingrod and hooks and lines, and also darts and bows and arrows, for hunting; besides tilling a little bit of land. Such people are all of them much worse off than the poor among us. Their clothing is nothing but coarse mats, or raw hides; their cabins are no better than pigstyes; their canoes are only hollow trees, or baskets made of bark; and all their tools are clumsy. Where every man does every thing for himself, every thing is badly done; and a few hundreds of these savages will be half-starved in a country, that would maintain as many thousands of us, in much greater comfort.

Or all terms happiness and misery are among the most relative. The happiest moments in the life of a savage would strike an English mendicant dumb with despair. The beggar's ideal bliss is placed in the anticipation of a full meal and constant work; the mechanic, who possesses both, longs for the corporeal indulgences of the tradesman; the tradesman for the glitter and show of the independent man. COMING hastily into a chamber, I had almost thrown down a chrystal hour-glass: fear, lest I had, made me grieve, as if I had broken it: but, alas! how much precious time have I cast away without any regret! The hour-glass was but chrystal, each hour a pearl; that but like to be broken, this lost outright; that but casually, this done wilfully. A better hour-glass might be bought; but time, lost once, lost ever. Thus we grieve more for toys than for treasure. Lord, give me an hour-glass, not to be by me, but to be in me. me to number my days. An hour-glass, to turn me, that I may turn my heart to wisdom.-FULLER'S Good Thoughts.

Teach

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. SIR PHILIP SIDNEY was one of the most remarkable men that England has produced. His parents were Sir Henry Sidney, an Irish gentleman, and Mary, daughter of the Duke of Northumberland. He was born at Penshurst, in Kent, in the year 1554. At the age of twenty-five, he became one of the most highly trusted counsellors of Queen Elizabeth, by whom he was sent ambassador to the Emperor of Austria. A few years afterwards, his advice influenced the Queen in a most important crisis of her life. The Duke of Anjou had long sought her hand; and, though she was nearly twenty-five years older than that prince, he took the resolution of preferring his suit in person, and secretly paid her a visit at Greenwich. It appears that, though his figure was not handsome, his manners were pleasing, and that he made considerable impression on her heart. The Queen ordered her Ministers to fix the terms of the marriage settlement; and a day was appointed for the nuptials. But the wise counsellors who surrounded her throne saw the necessity of averting a step which might have been very prejudicial to the interests of England; and Sir Philip Sidney, in particular, had the courage to address a letter to her, in which he dissuaded her from the match with such force of reasoning, that her resolution was shaken. As the appointed day drew near, she became irresolute and melancholy; and was observed to pass several nights without sleep. At last, her settled habits of prudence overcame her inclinations, and the Duke of Anjou was dismissed.

When Queen Elizabeth, in 1585, agreed to assist Maurice, Prince of Orange, against the arms of Spain, she sent an army into the Netherlands, commanded by the famous Earl of Leicester. Leicester made but a sorry general, and did little service to the cause; but Sir Philip Sidney so greatly distinguished himself by his courage and conduct, that his reputation rose to the highest pitch. His name became so illustrious throughout Europe, that he was invited to be a competitor for the Crown of Poland, and would probably have been elected but for the interference of

66

Sir Philip Sidney left one daughter, Elizabeth, who was born in the year 1585, in the parish of St. Olave, Hart-street, London, where Lady Sidney, Sir Philip's mother resided, and where she died in 1586. This Elizabeth was married to Roger, Earl of Rutland.

The widow of Sir Philip afterwards became the wife successively of Robert Devereux, the unfortunate Earl of Essex, and of Richard, Earl of Clanricarde and of St. Alban's.

THE ANCIENT WATER-CONDUITS OF

LONDON WERE built for the purpose of conducting water into the city of London. Before the time of William the Conqueror, and for two hundred years after, London was supplied with water by the river Thames on the South; by the River of the Wells (afterwards called Fleet Ditch), on the West; by a stream called Walbrook, which ran through London-Wall, and through the heart of the city into the Thames; by a fourth stream, or Bourne, which took its course along the city, beginning in Fenchurch-street, through Lombardstreet, at the west end of which it turned southwards This Bourne by Sherbourn-lane into the Thames. was called Langbourne from its length. Langbourne In the west suburbs was ward still bears its name. another stream called Oldbourne or Holborne, which began at Holborn-bars, and ran down the street to Holborn-bridge into the River of the Wells.

Besides these, there were fountains or wells in various parts, the chief of which were Holy-well, Clerks-well, Clements-well, whose respective situations are now pointed out by the names of the streets which were called after them.

So greatly, however, had population and building increased towards the end of the thirteenth century as to encroach upon and render useless the River of the Wells and other streams; when it became necessary to invent some additional mode of supplying the inhabitants with water.

Accordingly in the year 1285, a leaden cistern, encased in stone for protection, was erected in West Cheap (Cheapside), called the Great Conduit, into which water was conveyed from Paddington.

Between the years 1401 and 1610 a vast number of these conduits were built in London, among which we may particularly notice one at Holborn Cross about 1498. This was restored in 1577 by Mr. W. Lamb, and was hence called Lamb's Conduit.

A regular trade was carried on by persons employed to convey water from the conduits to the respective houses; these were called "Water Bearers;" the vessels which they used held about three gallons.

In order to keep up the various conduits, sums of money were frequently bestowed by "good and charitable people." It was also customary for the city authorities to visit them in great state. Stow gives an amusing account of one of these visits :

"On the 18th September, 1562, the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and many worshipful persons, and divers of the masters and wardens of the twelve companies, rid to the Conduit-heads, for to see them after the old custom; and afore dinner they hunted the hare and killed her, and thence to dinner at the head of the conduit. There was a good number entertained with good cheer by the Chamberlain. And after dinner they went to hunting the fox. There was a great cry for a mile, and at length the hounds killed him at the end of St. Giles's. Great hallowing at his death, and blowing of horns. And thence the Lord Mayor, with all his company, rode through London to his place

in Lombard-street."

The Conduits being now found insufficient, the supply of water was greatly increased by the waterworks near London-bridge, which were planned and executed by Peter Morrice, a Dutchman, in the reign of Elizabeth.

The famous inn called WHITE CONDUIT HOUSE, derives its name from an ancient stone conduit, shown in the engraving, and which till very lately stood near the spot. It appears to have been built in 1641, and was raised over a head of water that supplied the Charter-house by means of a leaden pipe, which, after the erection of Sadler's Wells, passed through the basement story of that building. The carved stone which bore the date exhibited also the initials of THOMAS SUTTON, the noble founder of the Charter-house, with his arms, and other initials, probably those of persons connected with the hospital.

FROM THE RUSSIAN.

M.

BENEATH thy all-directing nod,
Both world and worms are equal, God!
Thy hand the comets' orbits drew,
And lightest yonder glow-worm too;
Thou did'st the dome of heaven build up,
And form'dst yon snow-drop's silver cup.
Oh, sacred sorrow, by whom hearts are tried,
Sent not to punish mortals, but to guide;
If thou art mine, (and who shall proudly dare
To tell his Maker he has had his share?)
Still let me feel for what thy pangs are sent,
And be my guide, and not my punishment.

The Agami Heron.

The heron seeks every where the neighbourhood of lakes, of rivers, and of lands intersected by water.Almost always solitary, it remains, for hours together immoveable in the same spot. When it puts itself in motion to watch, upon their passage, and more nearly, the frogs and fishes, which constitute its chief aliment, it enters into the water above the knee, with its head between the legs, and in this position, after having patiently awaited the moment of seizing its prey, it suddenly unfolds its long neck, and pierces its victim with its bill. It has been ascertained that it swallows frogs entire, for their bones are found in its stomach unbroken. In time of dearth, and when the water is covered with ice, it approaches running streams, and hot springs, where it is said to feed on the waterlentil, and other small plants. But it frequently exposes itself to perish, rather than seek a milder climate. In the different seasons of the year, it constantly appears so melancholy and insensible, that it will remain alone and exposed in the worst weather, on some stump in the midst of an inundated meadow, while the blongios (a smaller kind of heron) takes shelter in the thick herbage, and the bittern in the midst of the reeds.

The herons, which unite to their sad and uniform existence all the torments of perpetual fear and inquietude, are not accustomed to take flight, except at night, and for the purpose of betaking themselves into the woods of thick and lofty foliage in the neighbourhood, and from which they return before the dawn of day. Then it is that their sharp and unpleasant scream is heard, which might be compared to that of a goose were it not shorter and more melancholy. In the day-time, they fly away to a great distance from the sight of man, and when attacked by the eagle or the falcon, they endeavour to escape by rising into the air, and getting above them. The wings of the heron strike the air in an equal and regulated motion, and this uniform flight raises and carries its body to such an elevation, that, at a distance, nothing is perceptible except the wings, which are at length lost sight of in the region of the clouds.-CUVIER'S Animal Kingdom.