The Hall extends about 69 feet in length by 27 in to try his fortune in London. His first work of any It was breadth; the heighth, to the apex of the roof, is note was his celebrated poem of London. about 40 feet; but when converted into a warehouse, published without his name, but soon attracted the it was intersected by a floor, which prevents any judg- notice of the most distinguished individuals of the ment being formed of the general effect. The Hall day. For a considerable time after this, his chief has the usual accompaniment of a large bay-window, employment was writing in the Gentleman's Magazine, or recess. Both this, and the windows on the oppo- to which work he gave great interest by reporting the site side, are of great beauty, and bear some resem- debates in the Houses of Parliament under the blance to the windows in the hall at Eltham. A little fiction of "Debates in the Senate of Lilliput." In above the recess is a door, communicating with a those days the machinery of the daily press, by means smaller apartment (42 feet by 22). The roof of the of which the debates of a whole night are laid on Hall, which is of admirable design and workmanship, our breakfast tables in the morning, was not in and in some places has been gilt, will be better under-existence; and the public was delighted with disstood from our view of the interior, than by any verbal cussions full of vigour and eloquence, much of which description that we can give of it. was given to them by the reporter. In 1747, he The ceiling of the smaller room is in form a four-published his plan of an English Dictionary, for which centered arch divided into rows of square pannels, each pannel originally filled with very rich tracery. The Hall is so completely hidden, that hundreds of our readers must have passed it unknowingly, and their first knowledge that such a building ever existed might have been the news of its destruction. In a statement lately circulated, we are told "there is reason to believe, that in a very few years every vestige of this interesting fabric would have been swept away, and the ground occupied by modern houses, had it not been for the zealous interference of two or three neighbouring families. Desirous to avert such a loss to the arts, and such a discredit to the age, a few gentlemen met together, and resolved to make an appeal to such individuals of taste and influence as they thought likely to co-operate with them in the work of preservation. That primary appeal has been answered in the most encouraging manner. A committee has been formed, and subscriptions have been opened with a spirit that promises a satisfactory result." From this gratifying statement, we trust that this building will be preserved to distant ages. We would urge our readers to visit it, (as it is open for inspection) and also the Church of St. Helen's, in the immediate neighbourhood, as that is also a building of great beauty, and is preserved with a degree of neatness that confers the highest credit upon its guardians. In that church rest the builder of Crosby Hall, and also the famous Sir Thomas Gresham, and Sir Andrew Judd, the founder of Tunbridge School. These "Traffickers" were indeed amongst "the honourable of the earth," and gave a lustre to the name of the LONDON MERCHANT. "They were honoured in their generation, and were the glory of their times; and they have left a name behind them that their praises might be reported." MEMOIR OF DOCTOR JOHNSON. he endeavoured to obtain the patronage of the Earl of Chesterfield, so well known for his writings on the subject of politeness. But the intercourse between the polished courtier and the rough scholar, was equally unsatisfactory to both; and Johnson informed the world in his preface, that "the English Dictionary was written with little assistance from the learned, and without any patronage of the great; not in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under the shelter of academic bowers, but amidst inconvenience and distraction, in sickness and in sorrow." Chesterfield, on the other hand, ridiculed Johnson's deportment and manners, of which he gave a satirical description in one of his Letters to his Son. In 1749, Johnson produced another admirable satire, The Vanity of Human Wishes, and his tragedy of Irene. He now began The Rambler, a work which was not at first received in a manner worthy of its great excellence. Written entirely by himself, and in a very serious tone, it wanted the variety and gaiety necessary to attract the readers of periodical publications. But, after it was collected into volumes, its merit was fully perceived; and the author lived to see it reach a tenth edition. Soon after the close of the Rambler, he lost his wife, who had been his faithful and affectionate partner in all his difficulties and distresses, and whose death he deeply deplored. His Dictionary, the labour of many years, was now brought out, and hailed by the public as a valuable addition to English literature. The profit he derived from it did not, however, remove his difficulties; he had, in fact, been living upon it beforehand during nearly the whole time of its preparation. He then began the Idler, a series of delightful Essays, which were published in a weekly newspaper. So severe did his struggles with poverty still continue to be, that, on the death of his mother, in 1759, he wrote the beautiful moral tale of Rasselas, for the purpose of raising a sufficient sum of money to defray the expenses of her funeral and discharge her little debts. In 1762, he received a pension from king George the third; by which, and the profits of his literary labours, he was placed in easy circumstances. The only great work which he produced after this period was his Lives of the English Poets, which was com DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON, one of the best, as well as most illustrious, men of whom England can boast, was born on the 7th of September, 1709, at Litchfield, where his father was a bookseller, in very low circumstances. He contrived, however, to maintain his son for some time at Oxford. On his death, the young student was compelled by necessity to en-pleted in 1781. He died on the 13th of December, gage himself as usher in a grammar-school. In this situation he was treated in a manner which so wounded his feelings, that it was a subject of painful remembrance to him for the rest of his life. On quitting it he made some unsuccessful attempts to maintain himself by his pen; and soon afterwards married Mrs. Forter, the widow of a mercer of Birmingham, with whom he received a small sum of money, which enabled him to open a boarding-school. In this, too, he was unsuccessful; he abandoned his plan and resolved 1785, in the 75th year of his age; his remains were interred in Westminster Abbey, and, a monument is erected to his memory in St. Paul's Cathedral. Dr. Johnson, as a writer, has never been surpassed in the greatness of his conceptions, and the elevation of his religious and moral sentiments. Living much in the world, and undergoing many of the trials and changes of life, his philosophy was built on experience and observation of human nature; and, if his pencil, on the whole, is a dark one, yet there are beau i tiful lights, as well as deep shades, in his pictures. His views of religion have most unjustly been blamed as gloomy. That he laboured, at times, under a greater fear of death than might have been expected from his Christian principles and general strength of mind, is true; but this, with some imperfections of character (of no great moment, indeed) is to be ascribed to the diseased state of his bodily frame during the whole of his long life. In his trials and calamities, we find him always resorting to heaven for support and consolation; and, in his writings, while the duties of religion are represented as utterly inconsistent with the slightest degree of vicious indulgence, they are never placed as bars to innocent enjoyment. His style has been made the subject of much criticism, and frequently exposed to petulant ridicule. But it seems peculiarly suited to his turn of thought; and, in his pages, a grand and solemn train of reflexions becomes still more impressive from the magnificent flow of the language in which it is clothed. In private life, Dr. Johnson was not less beloved than revered. He was rough in his exterior, but his heart was full of the milk of human kindness. He has been represented as rude and overbearing in society; but his rudeness will be found to have been generally worthy of a better name, and to have exhibited itself in stern reproof of presumptuous ignorance or unbecoming levity; while his life was spent in offices of kindness and charity, to the utmost extent of his means. Even his ordinary conversation was full of instruction; and Boswell, who wrote his life, has by merely preserving what fell from his lips, produced one of the most valuable books in our language. WHO IS ALONE? How heavily the path of life Is trod by him who walks alone; Who hears not, on his dreary way, Affection's sweet and cheering tone. Alone, although his heart should bound With love to all things great and fair, They love not him,-there is not one His sorrow or his joy to share. The ancient stars look coldly down On man, the creature of a day; They lived before him, and live on Till his remembrance pass away. The mountain lifts its hoary head, Nor to his homage deigns reply; The stormy billows bear him forth, Regardless which—to live or die. The flow'ret blooms unseen by him, Unmindful of his warmest praise; And if it fades, seeks not his hand Its drooping loveliness to raise. The brute creation own his power, And grateful serve him, though in fear; Yet cannot sympathise with man, For if he weeps, they shed no tear. Alone, though in the busy town, Where hundreds hurry to and fro, If there is none who for his sake A selfish pleasure would forego; Who have not skill to read his heart, By those who most thy love had known? The gloomy path, though distant still, Was ever present to thy view; Oh! how couldst thou, foreseeing it, For us that painful course pursue. Forsaken by thy nearest friends, Surrounded by malicious foes; Nor Stoic pride that calmness kept, Sustained thee by his mighty power; His arm most felt, his care most seen, When needed most in saddest hour; None else could comfort, none else knew How dreadful was the curse of sin ;-He who controul'd the storm without, Could gently whisper peace within. Who is alone, if God be nigh? Who shall repine at loss of friends, While he has One of boundless power, Whose constant kindness never ends; Whose presence felt, enhances joy, Whose love can stop the flowing tear, And cause upon the darkest cloud The pledge of mercy to appear. SIR EDWARD COKE being now very infirm in body, a friend of his sent him two or three doctors to regulate his health, whom he told, that he had never taken physic since he was born, and would not now begin; and that he had now upon him a disease which all the drugs of Asia, the gold of Africa, the silver of America, nor all the doctors of Europe could cureOld Age; he therefore thanked them and his friend that sent them, and dismissed them nobly with a reward.-ELLIS's Letters. VEGETABLE TITAN. (Rafflesia Arnoldi, or Krábal.) THIS gigantic flower was discovered in Sumatra, in 1818, when Sir STAMFORD RAFFLES, then governor of that island, made his first journey from Bencoolen into the interior. In that journey he was accompanied by a naturalist of great zeal and acquirements, the late Dr. JOSEPH ARNOLD, a member of the Linnæan Society, from whose researches, aided by the friendship and influence of the governor in an island so favourably situated and so imperfectly known as Sumatra, the greatest expectations had been formed. But these expectations were never to be realized, for the same letter which gave the account of the gigantic flower, brought also the intelligence of Dr. Arnold's death. This letter was one from Sir Stamford Raffles to Sir Joseph Banks, and in it he inclosed the following extract written by the lamented Arnold to some unknown friend, (for the epistle was left unfinished,) in which he gives an account of the discovery of this, which Sir Stamford Raffles well denominated-" most magnificent flower." After describing the previous route, Arnold says: "At Pulo Lebban, on the Manna kiver, I rejoice to tell you, I met with what I consider the greatest prodigy of the vegetable world. I had ventured some way before the party, when one of the Malay servants came running to me, with wonder in his eyes, and said, 'Come with me, sir, come! a flower very large, beautiful, wonderful!' I went with the man about a hundred yards into the jungle, and he pointed to a flower growing close to the ground, under the bushes, which was truly astonishing. My first impulse was to cut it up and carry it to the hut: I therefore seized the Malay's parang, (a sort of instrument like a woodman's chopping-hook,) and finding that it sprang from a small root, which ran horizontally, (about as large as two fingers,) I soon detached it, and removed it to our hut. To tell you the truth, had I been alone, and had there been no witnesses, I should, I think, have been fearful of mentioning the dimensions of this flower, so much does it exceed | Patma (see Fig. 2). Another of these vegetable every flower I have ever seen or heard of; but I had Sir paradoxes, figured also by Blume, is a native of the Stamford and Lady Raffles with me, and Mr. Pals grave, who, though equally astonished with myself, yet are able to testify as to the truth. "The whole flower was of a very thick substance; the petals and nectary being in few places less than a quarter of an inch thick, and in some places three quarters of an inch: the substance of it was very succulent. When I first saw it, a swarm of flies were hovering over the mouth of the nectary, and apparently laying their eggs in the substance of it. It had precisely the smell of tainted beef. Raflesia Arnoldi. "Now for the dimensions, which are the most astonishing part of the flower. It measured a full yard across; the petals being twelve inches high, and a foot apart from each other. The nectarium, in the opinion of us all, would hold twelve pints; and the weight of this prodigy we calculated to be fifteen pounds!" A guide from the interior of the country said that such flowers were rare, but that he had seen several, and that the natives call them Krúbúl. Later information, however, has shown that the Krúbúl, or Great Flower, is much more generally known than its first European discoverers suspected. In some districts it is called Krúbúl, and in others simply Ambun Ambun. It is said to take three months, from the first appearance of the bud, to the full expansion of the flower, and it appears but once a-year, at the conclusion of the rainy season. It has no stem of its own, but grows on the roots and stems of a woody species of cissus, (Cissus angustifolia.) Upon this plant the Krúbúl seems to take its origin in some crack or hollow of the stem, and soon shews itself in the form of a round knob, which, when cut through, exhibits the infant flower enveloped in numerous sheaths; these open and wither away as the flower enlarges, until at the time of its fulness, but very few remain. The blossoms rot away not long after their expansion, and the seeds (spora) are raised with the pulpy mass. This giant flower may well be esteemed the wonder of the vegetable world; and although several others, similar to it in form and habits, have been found, none have as yet been discovered that equal it in size. A small species has been mentioned by Dr. Horsfield; but his flower, instead of measuring three feet across, only measured three inches. A second very magnificent species, measuring two feet across, has been discovered in a small island near Java, called Nusa Kambangan, which has been described and figured by Blume, in his Flora Java, and from this work our second and third figures have been taken. By the natives it is called Patma, and hence the botanical name proposed is Rafflesia Brugmansia Zippelii. All these curious plants agree in several circumstances. In the first place, they have no proper roots of their own, and derive their nourishment from the vegetables on which they grow. In the second place, they have no stems, the flowers being seated on the vines that support them. Thirdly, they are destitute of leaves, the flowers being enclosed only by scales, which are purplish, or brownish, and resemble the outer coverings of buds, or rather the chaffy scales of other clinging plants; for, deriving their nourishment through the leaves of another vegetable, they do not require leaves of their own. So that here we have plants consisting of flower only, neither root, stem, nor leaves being present. And what is still more curious is, that, although the largest and most magnificent flowers in the world, they have very little in common with other flowering plants. They have no proper seeds, but are multiplied by spores, similar to the spawn of mushrooms, to which, indeed, their general form bears very great resemblance. The flowerleaves are of a mushroom-like substance, and smell like tainted beef; they contain no hollow vessels, like most other flowering plants, but consist of cells alone, like the mushroom-tribe, and they arise from beneath the bark of the cissus, which becomes enlarged by their growth, and very much resembles that false covering which some of that tribe have which grow upon living plants; raising the outer surface into tumors, and bursting it as they become more fully grown, such as the blights and blasts of corn, and so forth. Hence these stupendous flowers, which are six to nine feet in circumference, shew their likeness to the most lowly of the mushroom tribes, some of which are so minute as scarcely to be visible to the naked eye. B. THE PENRHYN SLATE QUARRY It Is considered one of the greatest curiosities in Wales. is situated at Dolawen, in Caernarvonshire, about six miles from Bangor, at the entrance of the romantic valley named Nant Frangon, and belongs to G. H. D. Pennant, Esq. of Penrhyn Castle. The summit of the slate mountain is termed Y Bron, a name which signifies breast or pap, and is frequently given to the tops of hills which do not rise abruptly. The perpendicular height is not more than 600 or 700 yards. The solid masses of slate which are taken from this quarry are from 80 to 100 feet in height; and when the sun shines they exhibit with great brilliancy all the colours of the rainbow. The business of separating the layers from the main body appears a dangerous employment, particularly when it is necessary to split the rock from the summit. This is effected by fastening a small beam to the top, with ropes at each end, as represented in the sketch. Upon this beam, four, five, or six men, frequently stand, and with their iron crows and sledge hammers, flake off the slate from the sides in masses, six or seven feet in length, from two to eight in breadth. The various pieces of slate are shaped upon the spot, according to the purposes for which they are intended, such as gravestones, chimney-pieces, covering of houses, cisterns, rails, &c. The rude slates are first reduced to shape and size by a small edged tool, the slate being first laid upon the edge of an iron plate, fixed in an upright position; they are then taken to the scraper, who, with a small piece of thin steel takes off the rough parts and reduces the surface to a level; and are afterwards piled up in grosses for exportation. Formerly they were conveyed to the port at a very heavy expense, by means of carts, drawn along the ordinary road, but afterwards an iron rail-road was formed, which reaches from the quarry to Port Penrhyn, a distance of six miles. Upon this line are several inclined or sloping planes. The waggons are now made of iron, and each holds about half a ton; several of them can be drawn by one horse, so that six or eight horses now perform the work which formerly required sixty or eighty. At Port Penrhyn the slates are shipped, not only for all parts of Great Britain, but even for the United States of America. The expense of the inclined planes, and rail roads, connected with this quarry, and incurred by the late Lord Penrhyn, in diminishing the labour of conveying the slates, is said to have been upwards of £170,000. THE PUMA (Felis Concolar.) THIS animal, which is found in America, from Patagonia to California, is frequently called the American Lion. It is large, and uniformly of a yellow colour, and so far bears some similarity to the lion of the Old World, but it is without mane or tuft to the tail. Its length, from the nose to the root of the tail, is about five feet; and its height, from the bottom of the foot to the shoulder, twenty-six inches and a half. View of a Slate Quarry. The Puma lies concealed in the underwood, and does not have recourse to caverns for shelter. It ascends and descends the highest trees with swiftness and ease, though it may be considered rather as an inhabitant of the plains than of the forests. Its depredations are generally confined to quadrupeds of a middling size, as calves, sheep, &c.; but against these its ferocity is more insatiable than its appetite, destroying many at an attack, but carrying away perhaps only one. If it have more than sufficient for a meal, it will cover and conceal the residue for a second repast. D'Azara possessed a tame puma, which was as gentle as a dog, but very inactive. It would play with any one; and if an orange were presented to it, would strike it with the paw, push it away, and seize it again, in the manner of a cat playing with a mouse. It had all the manners of a cat, when engaged in surprising a bird, not excepting the agitation of the tail; and when caressed purred like that animal. An incident occurred a few years back, not far from New York, which disproves the assertion that the puma will not attack a man. Two hunters went out in quest of game on the Katskill mountains, in New York, each armed with a gun, and accompanied by his dog. They agreed to go in contrary directions round the base of a hill, and that, if either discharged his piece, the other should cross the hill as expeditiously as possible, to join his companion. Shortly after separating, one heard the other fire, and hastened to his comrade. After searching for him for some time without effect, he found his dog dead and dreadfully torn. Knowing from this circumstance that the animal shot at was large and ferocious, he became more anxious, and assiduously continued his search for his friend; when his attention was suddenly directed, by a deep growl, to a large branch of a tree, where he saw a puma couching on the body of the man, and directing his eyes toward him, apparently hesitating whether to descend and make an attack on the survivor, or to relinquish its prey and take to flight. Conscious that much depended on celerity, the hunter discharged his piece, and the puma, mortally wounded, and the body of the man, fell together from the tree. The surviving dog then flew at the fallen beast, but a single blow from its paw laid the dog dead by its side. Finding that his comrade was dead, and that there was still danger in approaching the wounded animal, the man prudently retired, and brought several persons to the spot, where the unfortunate hunter, the puma, and both the dogs, were all lying dead together. Major Smith witnessed an extraordinary instance of the great ferocity of this animal, when engaged with its food. A puma, which had been taken and was confined, was ordered to be shot, which was done immediately after the animal had received its food the first ball went through his body, and the only notice he took of it was by a shrill growl, doubling his efforts to devour his food, which he actually continued to swallow with quantities of his own blood, till he fell. Notwithstanding such instances of the violence of disposition of this animal, it is very easy to be tamed. The same gentleman saw another individual that was led about with a chain, carried in a waggon, lying under the seat upon which his keeper sat, and fed by flinging a piece of meat into a tree, when his chain was coiled round his neck, and he was desired to fetch it down; an act which he performed in two or three bounds, with surprising ease and docility. A tame puma, which died recently, was some time in the possession of Mr. Kean the actor. It was quite docile and gentle. After the death of this animal, it was discovered that a musket-ball, in all probability, had injured its skull, which was not known in its lifetime.-CUVIER's Animal Kingdom. A VISIT TO A SALT MINE. THE following account of a visit to the Salt Mine at Ischl is extracted from a lively and agreeable little volume* just published by Dr. Tobin, who accompanied the late Sir Humphry Davy on his visit to the Continent, from which that great philosopher did not live to return. "I went with a very large party, consisting of almost all the strangers in Ischl, to visit the Salzberg, the salt mountain or rather mine, which was to be illuminated for the visitors. We set out at about one o'clock, a long string of carriages, and after an hour's drive through a very pleasant valley, we arrived at the foot of the mountain which contains the mine. Here a number of miners were waiting with sedan chairs for the ladies, many of whom however preferred walking up the mountain, and in about three quarters of an hour we arrived at the chief entrance of the mine. We were now to be attired, as is usual on entering the mines, in a long white mantle or frock, and a large wide broad brim, the latter to hinder us from knocking our brains out, and the former to keep our clothes clean. Here was confusion dire; Journal of a tour in the years 1828-29, through Styria, Carniola, and Italy, whilst accompanying the late SIR HUMPHRY DAVY, by J. J. Tobin, M.D. London, Orr, Paternoster Row. this frock was too small, this too long; this lady had no brimmer, this gentleman could find no stick. I laid hold of the first frock and hat I met with, but up came a lady and begged I would exchange with her, as her frock was so long she could not walk in it, and mine so short that it did not reach to my knees. Dressing at length finished, the ladies were placed in their carriages, that is two in each wheelbarrow, face to face, with a miner before to pull, who carried a lamp in his hand, and another to push behind, and between every two barrows went another miner bearing a paper lanthorn. The gentlemen were of course on foot, with the exception of one or two gouty invalids. "In this guise, with half-a-dozen miners going before carrying lamps, the whole train entered the passage, and in a few seconds lost sight of daylight. After a long, wet, and (in spite of our many lamps) dark journey through this narrow and low passage, where my head was continually coming in contact with the roof, we came to the Rutsch, or slide, which leads down into the salt-chamber. The Rutsch is formed of the trunks of two large fir-trees laid close together, rounded and polished, and placed in an oblique direction, in an angle of about forty degrees. A miner, with a lamp in one hand, places himself astride these trees, and holds with his other hand a cord which is fixed to the rock on the sides. The person who wishes to descend seats himself behind the miner, and holds him by the shoulders. The miner then lets the cord slip through his hands, and down they go like lightning into what seems an abyss of darkness: safe at the bottom, he gives a shout that the next couple may follow. When the slide is very long, as in the mines at Hallein, near Salzberg, the miner always sits upon a thick leather apron, and when alone makes no use of the cord, but rushes down with fearful speed into the salt-cave below. When we arrived at the slide, and the ladies had all got out of their barrows, after much discussion and many fears and doubts, they consented thus to descend, as the miners assured them it was more dangerous to do so by the steps cut in the rock, at the side, which were exceedingly steep and very wet. Having reached the bottom of the slide, which ends in a slight curve, to break the impetus of the descent, we found ourselves in an immense cavern or room, excavated in the rock, about twelve feet high, and from ten to twelve thousand in circumference, supported in the middle by a massive pillar of rock, and lighted up by some hundred lamps, which, however, only served to give the scene a more awful and gloomy appearance. The visitors, whose number was considerable, in their long white mantles and hats, looked like spectres wandering in the shades of the nether world. The roof and walls of this cavern were covered with minute crystals of salt, not, however, sufficiently large to give to it the glittering appearance which I had expected. The mountain contains a great many of these salt-chambers, which at different periods are filled with fresh water, conducted into them by wooden pipes. When this has dissolved a sufficient quantity of salt, which operation occupies some months, it is drained off through a deep perpendicular shaft, near the middle of the cave, and is then conducted through wooden pipes, often for a very great distance, to the boiling-houses, where it undergoes the process of evaporation. "Having wandered through these gloomy abodes of silence and night for some time, we ascended the stairs, the ladies resumed their seats in the barrows, Το and the procession returned as it had entered. save my head from additional thumps to the many it |