my heart. I demand for my wife the testing the cup to her lips, she drank its conof the bitter waters."

"Thy demand is granted," said the highpriest.

"And, therefore," resumed Hophin, "have I brought this barley-cake, unmixed with oil or spices, a cake of jealousy and a memorial of iniquity. Let the guilty perish!"

"Wife of Hophin, approach," intonated the high-priest. And Ezela walked for

ward.

A young Levite takes two cups filled with blessed water and places them before the priest. Assir collects some grains of sand from the floor of the sanctuary and slowly casts them into each cup, accompanying the act with a few lowly-uttered words. Then advancing towards the wife of Hophin he removes her veil, and the temple shone as with the beauty of a seraph.

"Oh! mercy and pardon for the young and beautiful," burst from the lips of the

men.

The women were mute upon the occa

sion.

tents. For a moment her beautiful eyes were directed towards the roof of the temple, then slowly sinking upon the vast and awe-stricken multitude, she recognized her brother, and faintingly exclaimed, "Ammiel, dear Ammiel, farewell!"

"Hophin! thy turn has come," said Assir, presenting the other cup.

At that moment Ammiel rushed through the crowd, caught the fainting Ezela in his arms, and exclaimed, "Who dare accuse my sister?"

"Thy sister!" repeated Hophin, dropping the cup, which broke in a thousand fragments on the pavement.

66

Read," said Ammiel, presenting his mother's letter.

Hophin spoke not. He dreaded being accused as the murderer of Ezela.

Assir approached and whispered, "The poison was not in the cup of Ezela!”

"In which, then?" gasped Hophin, recoiling.

"In neither!" replied the high-priest, fixing his eyes on the broken cup with a look of savage disappointment.

Regardless of this incident, the priest continued his dreadful office. Taking the Ezela, recovering from her swoon, kissed cake from the husband's hands, and closely her husband's hand, and the forehead of her approaching Ezela, he whispered, "It is brother. Assir shrunk away from the scene not yet too late. Consent to be my wife; as a foul bird from the light of day. All say but one word, Ezela, and thou art free." the men, save the high-priest, blessed the "Priest, perform thy duty!" indignantly beautiful, and all the women envied her. murmured Ezela. Then raising her radi-"A moral phenomenon," saith our chronant eyes to heaven, she added fervently, icler, by no means confined to the Val"God of Israel, protect me!" ley of Jehoshaphat."

"Daughter of Shiraz! wife of Hophin!" said Assir, aloud, "if thou art chaste in thought and deed, be thou unscathed by these waters. But if otherwise, may these waters which thou shalt drink prove thy last draught upon earth?" Then taking the cup and placing it within her trembling hands added, with a fiendish emphasis, "Drink, spouse of Hophin."

Ezela looked at the cup, and then at her husband. His scornful glance aroused her gentle spirit. "People of Israel!" said the victim, with a voice that thrilled through the columns of the temple, but not through the heart of Hophin. "Men, who judge and ye women, who hear me, I swear that I am innocent, that my heart is pure, and my tongue a stranger to falsehood. And yet I dread this trial, for the malice of men may be taken for the judgment of God. May the Lord pardon my enemies. I pardon them from my soul." Then rais

me,

MAGNETIC DYNAMOMETER. Its form is that

of a rectangular frame set up vertically. On the lower cross-piece is fixed a horse-shoe electromagnet with its points upwards, the armature of which is at the centre annular, and to it a dynamometric index is attached by means of a hook. One end of a cord fastened to a ring in the dynamometer passes through a hole in the upper cross-piece, and round the axle of a wheel arranged above the frame. When the wheel is turned until the armature be detached, the index of the dynamometer shows the figure of the dial at which the point of the instrument stopped. This figure, deducting the weight of the armature, which remains suspended to the ring of the dynamometer, gives the exact measure of the electro-magnetic force.-Literary Gazette.

MEMORY.

From Frazer's Magazine.

ber me," he replies, "Yes, as long as memory holds a place in this distracted globe."

Here is precisely what we contend for, viz. It was in the gardens of the Tuileries that I Such is implied in the tone of Hamlet's reply, that true memory is made up of impression. met with an old college friend. He was prom-that it would be impossible to forget it, that enading a young lady, who seemed to me to have some difficulty in making herself understood, and still more in understanding her cavalier. They soon parted company, and my old acquaintance came up to me, and complained of the difficulties he found in speaking the French language. "I always had a bad memory, you know, but I can remember facts better than words." I should have instantly recognized my man by this expression alone. He went by the name of "The Man of Facts" when he was at College; and it was to this alone that he ascribed all superiority. To possess more facts than one's neighbor was to have the greatest advantage over him. When asked how he got through his examination, he replied, "Well enough;" but regretted that he had not so many facts as the professors who examined him; and he sighed for his want of

memory.

Now, nothing can be more erroneous than were his ideas upon the subject. A man may possess an immense number of facts, and be a very great goose. There are two kinds of memory, the one purely mechanical, which those possess who retain names, dates, and some facts, the other is the result of an impression made upon the feelings; and the complaint of want of memory is in general nothing more than obtuseness of an important portion of the intellectual faculties. Few clever men complain of want of memory, or find difficulty in retaining those things which form a part or parcel of their intellectual enjoyments.

nothing less than the dissolution of the moral and physical world could prevent him from remembering the scene which he had just witnessed. It became hereafter no matter of will with him to do so. To tell him to forget it or to remember it, would be synonymous. It formed from that time a portion of his moral existence, inseparable but by general dissolution. It is precisely the same in other matters, that which has made a very strong impression is never forgotten; it may not always be at again call it forth, fresh as it was deposited in hand, but it is still there: circumstances may the storehouse of the mind. The man without memory is the man whose mind is not organized to receive such impressions as excite those sensations which guarantee durability; such as read the book and lay it down, and forget where they left off; a state which may occur to all at times, when the mind may be preoccupied, but which is habitual with those who complain of bad memories. In these arguments a healthy state of body and mind are presupposed, for by nothing is the faculty of memory so impaired as by physical derangements. It may be annihilated by organic affections, or it may be suspended, or go to sleep. It may happen that the power of speech and the use of language be annulled, that all moral existence may seem extinguishfunctions; but when the causes operating ed, whilst the physical powers continue their these effects shall have been removed, then shall blest memory return with all its force to the point where its functions had been susThe lover of poetry may not be able to recollect when the battle was precisely fought, lectures of the late Sir Astley Cooper, illuspended. The following case, quoted from the but if he have ever read Campbell's "Hohentrates this position in a most satisfactory manlinden," he can never forget it. He may have ner:-A sailor falling from the yard-arm was read it but once, may not be able to repeat a taken up insensible, and carried into the hosline of it, but there it is indelibly impressed up-pital in Gibraltar, where he remained in the on his feelings-he can call it up when he same state for many months; he was conveyed pleases. It is as much his own as the author's. from thence to England, and admitted into St. The man without memory or without suscep- Thomas's Hospital. tibility of impression, which is almost synonymous, may have read it many times, and yet "He lay upon his back with very few signs of know nothing about it; his eyes have passed life, breathing, his pulse beating, some motion in over it, but it has not passed through those his fingers, but, in all other respects, apparently portals to be indelibly stamped upon the sen- deprived of all powers of mind, volition, or sensorium. His ear may, perhaps, again recog-sation. Upon the examination of his head a denize the sound of the words, but still the thing itself has escaped his memory, and from the best of all reasons-that it was never there. The want of memory of which such complain, may be compared to Falstaff's deafness. "Rather out, please you. It is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal."

He who has summed up every thing and placed all things in their true light, has not been wanting in the true definition of memory. When the Ghost says to Hamlet, "Remem

pression was discovered, and he was trephined at a period of thirteen months and a few days after the accident. The man sat up in his bed four felt pain, immediately put his hand to his head. hours after the operation, and, being asked if he In four days from this time he was able to get out of bed and converse, and in a few more days he was able to say where he came from, and remembered meeting with the accident; but from that time up to the period when the operation was performed (i. e. for a period of thirteen months and upwards) his mind remained in a perfect state of oblivion."

Nothing was remembered which occurred | escaped him-but not a kind one either. The between the periods of the infliction of the bright armor of the French monarch could wound which caused the pressure and the re-not have received with more polished coldness moval of the piece of bone which produced it, and rigidity the blandishments of his youthful because nothing during that long time had captor. made any impression on the sensorium. The new governor-general, while apparentThere was a distinct separation of animally bent alone upon soothing his veteran chief, from moral existence. contrived adroitly to pay his court to the directors. The skilful and tortuous climax with which he rose from a panegyric on the Indian army, to dilate upon his own ultratranscendental pacific disposition, was an unspeakable relief to the assembled chairs. The Board was heard to draw a long sigh of unutterable relief. Each chair muttered to itself, in unpremeditated concert with its fellows-"Public opinion is right; Sir Henry will be a safe governor of India."

Mr. Herbert Mayo has published a case of double consciousness with temporary loss of memory. It is rather complicated in a metaphysical point of view, but proves satisfactorily the power of impression. There was no loss of memory where the former had had its due influence. Some physical impediment in the circulation operated to prevent its manifestation at will; but it was there, and as soon as the obstruction was removed memory again triumphed.

I believe, therefore, that we are not far from wrong in accusing our friend of that want of perception and of impression which so much limited the number of his facts that he retained but very few; and his complaint against his memory was unjust and ill-founded, inasmuch as the food with which it is nourished must be duly digested and assimilated before it form an integrant part of that intellectual state which seldom complains of want of memory.

BANQUET TO THE NEW GOVERNOR-
GENERAL OF INDIA.

"Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest."

From the Spectator.

THE Duke of Wellington's position at the East India Directors' dinner to Sir Henry Hardinge, on Wednesday, recalls the image of the captive French King in the tent of the

Black Prince. The duke was the hero of the

evening; Sir Henry, the nominal hero, laid all the honor of the banquet at the duke's feet; the chairman was lavish in his eulogiums of the duke; the great end and aim of the speechification was to soothe the duke. And yet, amid all this homage, the impertinent idea would recur, that the duke was sitting at the hospitable board of the Board that had checkmated him.

Oh the faithlessness of chairs as well as of sitters upon chairs! Three little years have not passed since Lord Ellenborough was feasted with as much empressement as now Sir Henry Hardinge; yet on Wednesday his name was not once named, even by the Duke of Wellington; and, what was worse, words rife with implied charges against him superabounded. Sir Henry Hardinge's vehement protestations of pacific policy, his reiterated professions of deference to the Directors, and Sir Robert Peel's magnanimous declarations against any change in the constitution of our Indian government, all indicated where the shoe pinched under the late Governor-General. No one knew what Lord Ellenborough might take into his head next; and Lord Ellenborough, not contented with setting the fee-farm of his masters the directors constantly on the hazard, was barely civil to them when they remonstrated.

So, as far as ministers and directors can do it, Lord Ellenborough is quietly shelved. Whether he will sit quietly down under this pear to be entertained on that head. Nay, on his return, remains to be seen. Doubts apfrom the unwonted despatch with which his successor proceeds to the scene of action; it might almost seem to be expected that Lord Ellenborough, unlike the "good army" of Bombastes Furioso, might "kick up a row" before he allowed himself to be disbanded.

APPLICATION.-Every man of eminence, who writes his own biography, explicitly avows that he The duke, in return, was grimly civil. In is unconscious of any other reason for having athis speech-returning thanks for the toast of tained proficiency in his pursuits than intense ap himself and the army-there was, to be sure, dowments to be given, an ardent desire to excel plication. Supposing a fair share of natural ennot one word about indiscretion; but, rigidly will certainly overcome many difficulties. In the scrutinized, not one word of decided compliment to his entertainers will be found in it. autobiography of the late Mr. Abraham Raimbach, an eminent engraver in London, just published, No; though he sat at their table-though all we find an additional corroboration of this view. the delicacies of the season, and all the flat-All true excellence in art is, in my humble teries of half-a-dozen seasons, were showered upon him-not one word of his House-of-Lords philippic was even by implication unsaid by him. Not an expression positively unkind

opinion, to be chiefly attributed to an early conviction of the inadequacy of all means of improvement in comparison with that of self-acquired knowledge."

THE PROGRESS OF ART.

From the Westminster Review.

1. The Hand-Book of Taste, or how to observe Works of Art, especially Cartoons, Pictures, and Statues. By Fabius Pictor. Longman.

2.

The Present State of Ecclesiastical Architecture in England. By A. Welby Pugin. C. Dolman, 61 New Bond street.

THERE are few subjects which are just now exciting more attention in England than the present state of the Fine Arts, and few on which more has been said and written; but still it does not appear that any satisfactory conclusion has been arrived at

the artists themselves understand better what is wanted, or what would be the best means of improving their condition or enabling Englishmen to do something more creditable to the nation than has hitherto been produced. In the meanwhile the de

DAVID HUME'S CORRESPONDENCE. The late Baron Hume, the nephew of the philoso pher, was generally known to be in possession of a pretty large collection of letters, forming the correspondence between his uncle and a circle of distinguished contemporaries. Many applications were made for access to this collection; but it was the opinion of the Baron, at least until a comparatively late period, that the time had not yet come when a use of these MSS., sufficiently ample and free to be of service to literature, could expediently be made. On his death in 1833, as we then announced, he left the collection at the disposal of the Council of the Royal Society of Edinburgh; and it has now been for some time preserved in the archives of that body, accessible only through the special permission of the Council. After some deliberation regarding the proper use to which this peculiar bequest should be applied, the Council resolved that on the subject, or that either the public or the collection should be placed at the disposal of any editor on whom they might have reli ance, who should either publish such parts of the correspondence as have reference to literature, politics, and the personal life of Hume, or employ them as illustrative of a memoir of the philosopher. We understand that with this view the MSS. have been put at the dis-mand for art is as universal as the interest posal of Mr. J. H. Burton, advocate, who is at it excites, and whether it be for the statue present employing them, together with original or painting with which the rich man ornamaterials collected in other quarters, in the ments his dwelling, or for the 'Penny Magpreparation of a Life of Hume, with sketches azine' or 'Illustrated News,' which find of his contemporaries. The MSS. in the pos- their way into the poorest cottage, every session of the Royal Society contain, besides class are enjoying the luxury; and it is of an ample correspondence with those eminent fellow-countrymen with whom it is well known an importance not easily overrated that a that Hume enjoyed unreserved intimacy, let-right direction should be given to this newters from D'Alembert, Carnot, Reynal, Mon- born taste in the nation, working for good tesquieu, and the other leaders of contempo- or evil to an extent which defies the calcurary foreign literature. These, with the let-lation of the boldest intellect. ters of Mad. de Boufflers, Mad. Geoffrin, It is not however, we fear, in this point Mlle. de l'Espinasse, and other female orna- of view that the government at present rements of the literary circles of Paris, will serve to throw light on a curious, but little known episode in Hume's life-his enthusiastic reception by the wits and the fine women of the reign of Louis XV. We understand, too, that these papers throw considerable light on the strange quarrel between Hume and Rousseau.

-Athenæum.

gard the question, and the parliamentary committees that have been appointed, and the royal commissions that have been issued, seemed to have conceived that it was only the wounded vanity of the nation at seeing herself surpassed in art by Bavaria and other continental states, that made her now demand rescue from the disgrace; and the PARISH PRIZES.-Some readers will scarcely believe us when we mention that a practice has consequence is, that having ascertained been begun in certain districts in England of giv- that art was at a singularly low ebb in this ing annual "rewards to laborers for bringing up country (which all the world knew before their families independently of parochial relief." they were appointed), they have determined He who seeks little or nothing from the parish to follow in the steps of the Germans, and gets a prize. The reward, however, is proportioned to the number of children he has had the try and rival what they conceive to be the merit of providing for by his own exertions. At splendid school of art that has recently a distribution of this kind at Aylesbury, on the arisen there. The experiment is now being 14th of September, we find that one of these miracles of independence got £4 for having had nine children born to him in lawful wedlock, seven of whom he has brought up without parochial relief Another got thirty shillings for having reared four children without any assistance from the parish. AUGUST, 1844.

32

proceeded with, and though it would be presumption to prophesy that it cannot be successful, we have very strong doubts of its realizing the expectations of its sanguine promoters.

rough and Wilson, and Hogarth, and Flaxman,-men who raised British art from nothing to a palmy state it has not again reached, much less surpassed. The produce of all the excitement of that time was the establishment of the Royal Academy; and the public satisfied that in this creation they had done all that was required to insure the prosperity of the arts, forgot the subject, and relapsed into their former indifference; while the academy, feeling secure in its monopoly, and its members discouraged by their inability to rival the great Italian masters, or even the contemporary continental schools, sunk into a corporation of portrait painters, and left British art to seek its inspiration where it could; and as long as their own pencils were fully employed, the academicians seem never to have sought

At the recent exhibition of cartoons that [tised by Englishmen, could scarcely be said took place in Westminster Hall in conse- to exist in England; and it is now little quence of this resolution, the nation were more than eighty years since the first public astonished and delighted to find that Eng- exhibition of paintings took place. At that lish artists could produce as good designs period the attention of the public (if the as either the French or Germans, and all small body of men who then interested have been willing to hail with joy the new themselves in art may be so called) was era thus opened to art. They have not paused more strongly directed to the subject than to consider that what could so easily be at any subsequent period till the present, done by some dozens of artists who never and with strong grounds for hope; for that before thought on the subject, or never at-age produced Reynolds, West, Gainsbotempted that style of art, must indeed be a very small and very easy exercise of intellect. They, indeed, who agree with the committee, that, after rewarding the original eleven, there were still ten more so nearly equal to them that it would be unjust if they too were not rewarded, may rejoice in the nation possessing such a band of Raphaels, and thank the commissioners for having been instrumental in bringing to light such a mass of hidden talent, which God knows, no man in England ever before dreamt of our possessing, and which certainly never showed itself in the annual exhibitions, or in any paintings these artists had hitherto produced. For ourselves the experiment goes far to prove that it is as easy for an educated artist to produce cleverly grouped pictures of this sort as it would be for any educated man to produce as good to direct or guide the taste or patronage of verses as ever Pope or Dryden wrote, provided it be understood that knowledge of the subject, and sense, and wit, are not required to form a necessary ingredient in the composition. He knows little of the long thought, and toil, and pain, with which great works are produced by even the greatest geniuses, who fancies that the stuff of immortality may be found in what is done so easily and by so many.

the nation to a better and higher style of art than what each individual found mest profitable. Both artists and patrons seem to have tacitly acknowledged the impossibility of rivalling their great prototypes, and have even been content to allow that in all that concerned art the French were our superiors, and that we could never hope (for some good reason or other unexplained) to possess a gallery like the Louvre or to create What appears to us, in the present state one like that of the Luxembourg or Verof matters, to be more wanted than cartoons, sailles. The French with all their loud boastis a correcter knowledge of what true art ings of pre-eminence have not been able to really 18- -what are its purposes and objects excite in us a spirit of rivalry, nor their sneers -and by what means these are to be reach- at the "Nation boutiquiére" to rouse us to ed. Till a clearer knowledge is obtained an energetic attempt to prove that the epion these points than at present seems to thet was unmerited. But when Bavaria, a exist, we fear that nothing that is really kingdom which stood lower than ourselves great or good will be done, and it is to this in the scale of artistic eminence, roused object that we propose to dedicate the fol- itself from its lethargy, and in a few short lowing pages; and though we cannot hope years, under the patronage of an enlightenwithin the narrow limits of an article to ex-ed prince, and without any greater advanamine any one of these objects as we should wish, we still hope to be able to place some parts of the subject in a clear light, and to turn attention to others that are often overlooked entirely.

A century ago, painting, as an art prac

tages of climate (to which we are so fond of ascribing our deficiencies), produced a school of art which, whether it be really great or not, has at least led to most brilliant results and given employment to hundreds of artists in every corner of Germany,