DINBURGA

NUMBER 566.

NATURAL DAGUERREOTYPING. THE British journals have as yet taken no notice, that we are aware of, of some very curious discoveries respecting light lately made by Dr Möser of Königsberg. By accident, in a great measure, we have obtained some information on the subject, which we shall now lay before our readers, confident that it will be read with considerable interest even by those but slightly acquainted with science.

Dr Möser observes, that if a flat seal or piece of black horn, having figures engraved upon it, be placed below a smooth and polished silver plate, and allowed to remain there for ten minutes, the silver will become charged with a faint picture of the figures engraved upon the seal or piece of horn, which will be rendered visible by the plate being exposed to the vapour of water, or any other fluid, or even by being breathed upon, and will become permanent if the vapour of mercury is used. This surprising result will at once lead the mind to the photographic process, in which, by the action of a strong light, either original or reflected, the images of objects become impressed upon a surface of paper previously washed in a solution of nitrate of silver, or a metallic plate prepared with iodine. But a remarkable difference exists: the silver plate in Dr Möser's experiment is presented in the dark, and there receives the impression of the object, without, as we would suppose, the agency of light. The experiment has even been made in a dark room at midnight with perfect success. It is also remarkable, that any polished surface will do as well as a silver plate-glass, for instance, or the smooth leather-cover of a book. It appears that, to produce the effect, the object must not be far distant from the smooth surface; the nearer it is, the better is the impression produced. When the vapour of mercury is used, a permanent image is produced, by an union of the mercury with the silver; when other vapours are used, the image quickly vanishes. But perhaps the most surprising thing of all is, that after the image has vanished, it can be reproduced by being again breathed upon or subjected to other vapour, and this over and over again, as often as may be desired.

LATENT LIGHT-a bold idea, which, if it becomes an established truth in science, must immortalise his name. He conceives that light enters into and resides in bodies, or is, as it were, absorbed in them, and may yet, after remaining in them many years, be capable of exhibiting its action. He calls this light proper to bodies, and shows reasons for distinguishing it from both phosphorescence and the light of those rays of which the retina is not sensible. He says it is in all its effects the same as ordinary light. In two plates exposed to each other, that the one may catch an image from the other, nearness is necessary, because otherwise the rays would diverge, and produce a confused image.* How strange to think of a divergence of rays from a substance placed in what our senses would call absolute darkness; for example, between the works and case of a watch!†

These phenomena are not curious only for their reference to the novel idea of latent light, but as an addition to the wonders of that perhaps most wonderful of all modern inventions, the photographic and Daguerreotype processes. What we have hitherto seen of this process is the production of an image under the influence of a powerful light: the experiments of Möser give an image by the agency of a degree of light below the power of our senses to apprehend; and which we, therefore, for want of a better term, call latent light. This is a remarkable extension, indeed, of what we not long ago knew of the powers of light: we now know that it will act as a medium through which the image of one object may be impressed on another, the impression possessing durability in proportion to the conditions of the impressed surface; and, more than this, capable of being reproduced after it has vanished, and that several times over. Nor is even this all. The Daguerreotype process, till a very recent period, did, like Dr Möser's experiments, require what may be called a considerable time to produce its effects; that is to say, it required a few seconds at least, and only still objects could be taken with accuracy. But last year, by the application of electricity, M. Daguerre made his plates so sensitive, that less than a second became necessary to produce the image. Indeed, so small a space of time was required, that no mechanical arrangement could be contrived to submit the plate instantaneously enough; the consequence of which was, that one part was overdone before the rest was submitted, and it was found necessary to take means to dull or lessen the sensitiveness of the plates. Possibly, the application of electricity would make a much less space of time necessary for even latent light to produce images. The Daguerreotype process is evidently only in its infancy. Within the last few months, Sir John Herschel has been experimenting with paper surfaces prepared in two different ways, Möser infers from his observations that there is by one of which he produces impressions which may

An account of Dr Möser's discovery was given a few months ago in the Paris Academy of Sciences, and had the effect of calling from M. Breguet, the celebrated watchmaker of that city, a remark highly favourable to the presumption that it is true. M. Breguet stated that he had frequently observed, upon the polished inner surface of the gold cases of his flat watches, the name of his house plainly and legibly marked, the impression having been received from the engraved letters of the covering of the works, which did not touch the case.†

In a letter written by him to Sir David Brewster-which we have seen-he states that he has found the following invariably to succeed. He places a small camera obscura, furnished with a lens of very small aperture1 under the moon in any of her stages, and makes her image fall upon a plate of iodised silver, which has been previously exposed to certain vapours noted below. The moon having passed over the plate, he subjects the plate to the vapour of mercury, and obtains a very clear representation of her path.-It may here be remarked, that there is no necessity for supposing Möser's experiments to be fallacious because an attempt to repeat them may fail. While it is proper, of course, to be guarded against both voluntary and involuntary deception, there can be no doubt that nice experiments of this nature often fail, or all but fail, at first, with others than the discoverers, and yet are found to be true phenomena after all. Such was the case with Mr Fox Talbot's experiments in photography, which some of the most ingenious practical men of science in the country vainly, for some time, attempted to imi

be brought up from faintness to distinctness by repeated washings, while by the other he creates positive pictures, which fade in a few hours, leaving the paper capable of receiving other impressions. §

In a conversation on Dr Möser's experiments, which took place at the meeting of the British Association

*Letter of Dr Möser, MS.

t The idea of latent light corresponds with an opinion of Newton, that light entered the surface of charcoal, and never was brought out again. There are other phenomena tending to the same conclusion, as that nitrous acid gas, in a glass tube, on being exposed to heat, changes from a transparent yellow to an opaque red. The blood of a patient under inflammation, everted from a cup with a green flower, presents vermilion images of the flower relieved upon the dark ground of the clot. And, to preclude all doubt as to the character of these images, we are assured by a medical friend that he has produced them by green colouring on the outside of a glass cup.

Athenæum Report, July 17, 1841.

§ Letter of Sir John Herschel, Athenæum, August 20, 1842.

PRICE 14d.

at Manchester, Sir John Herschel called particular attention to the reproduceability of the pictures, and confirmed the fact by drawing from his pocket one of his own pictures, which he said was then invisible, but might be made visible by being placed over the vapour of muriatic gas. After a time, he said the image would again vanish, but a reapplication of the gas would bring it again into sight. He explained that the paper had been washed in a certain vegetable solution, which made it susceptible of such pictures. He also adverted to the remarkable fact, that the muriatic gas is perfectly colourless. He then added, "Might not the retina itself be affected in a somewhat similar manner? The impressions made upon it were gone in a moment. Might not those impressions on the retina be produced by a sort of photographic apparatus? The number of questions arising on this topic," he said, "were likely to render it a most electrifying topic among philosophers." Sir David Brewster considered the re...ark of Sir John Herschel as "having an important bearing on the philosophy of the senses. The moment it was mentioned in the hearing of any one acquainted with the physiological action of the retina, he would see a crowd of facts referable to it. He should mention one fact which appeared to be explained by it. After being present at a few of the meetings of the Association, where there had been so many white faces, a mass of white faces had at length become impressed on his retina. Each face had three black spots on it, two for the eyes and one for the mouth. For two days, these objects flitted before his eyes. He could not distinguish the whitest face in the company from the darkest. Here was a picture continuing longer than usual, in consequence of the retina being longer impressed. In some cases, he had been enabled to tear off the mask, and fill up these blank faces with individual likenesses." These remarks of the British philosophers have since been found to coincide with views entertained by Dr Möser, and which he has expressed in a paper published at Berlin.

That the impressions on the retina are photographic processes, is, we should say, by no means unlikely. Many phenomena, long before the world, perfectly harmonise with such an idea. The sixth of a moment is, we believe, the space of time during which these impressions remain in an ordinary state of health; hence, we may remind unscientific readers, such phenomena as that of a lighted stick making a fiery arc when waved quickly to and fro. The eye, then, may be said to be, in its ordinary state, a plate or speculum prepared to receive, and retain for that definite portion of time, any image thrown upon it.

Amongst relative phenomena, the mind very quickly lights upon a well-known one recorded by Dr Darwin: "I covered a paper about four inches square with yellow, and with a pen filled with a blue colour, wrote upon the middle of it the word BANKS in capitals; and sitting with my back to the sun, fixed my eyes for a minute exactly upon the centre of the letter N in the word. After shutting my eyes, and shading them somewhat with my hand, the word was distinctly seen in the spectrum in yellow colours on a blue ground; and then, on opening my eyes, on a yellowish wall at twenty feet distance, the magnified name of BANKS appeared on the wall written in golden characters." Dr Abercromby records a similar instance: "A friend of mine had been, one day, looking intensely at a small print of the Virgin and Child, and had sat bending over it for some time. On raising his head, he was startled by perceiving at the further end of the apartment a female figure of the size of life, with a child in her arms. The first feeling of

gination] perform their operations through the medium of the organs of sense." This is a very remarkable assertion, and quite in harmony with the view which we have taken. If received as true, it can leave little room for doubt that mental action generally is inextricably connected with the laws of some of the socalled imponderable bodies.

MRS HOWITT'S WORK FROM THE
SWEDISH.*

MARY HOWITT, who has been resident for the last few years at Heidelberg, appears in a new characterthe translator of a work of Frederika Bremer, offered with the view of introducing English readers to an acquaintance with Swedish literature, of which, hitherto, little or nothing has been known in this country. Miss Bremer as we suppose we must call her is the daughter of an eminent merchant at Stockholm, and, since the death of her parents, has spent her time alternately in that city, and with a female friend in the south of Sweden. "In her own country, and other parts of the continent, her fictions are read with avidity. They are written with much graphic truth, abound in lessons of social wisdom, and possess that depth of sentiment which renders them acceptable to the refined and reflecting readers of northern and central Germany.

The translation of one of this lady's productions is creditable to the taste and judgment of Mrs Howitt, who announces, that if the present specimen be welcomed by her countrywomen, she is ready to prepare others not less attractive for publication. We fear, however, that her half-formed anticipations in this respect will not be realised. The impression left on our mind, after an attentive perusal of the work, is, that it will not become popular in England. Consisting of a series of letters from a newly-married lady to her friend, descriptive of persons and families in a country neighbourhood in Sweden, there is not a sufficiency of story to interest common readers of fiction; and the style of thought, manners, and circumstances, is something quite beyond the reach of ordinary English sympathy. The names of the characters, too, are uninviting. The fair letter writer, who may be called the heroine of the piece, never addresses her husband by any other name than "Bear" -a term of endearment, which seems to speak of wild and far northern regions. "Ah, Bear," observes she one day, during a confidential interchange of sentiment, "that which makes a wife happy-what beautifies home, is not the wealth of a husband-not his great talents-not the fire of his soul-all these may destroy the peace of home. No: the happiness of the wife is, that the husband have integrity; that he be good, rational, reasonable, and regular-like you, Bear!" In passages like this, the sentiment is simple and touching, but associated with the, to us, grotesque idea of a bear, the gentle authoress fails in exciting unmixed emotions. In short, the wit, humour, pathos, sentiment of the book, are very much lost on English readers. The wit is not wit according to our ideas. The appeal almost seems to be to a human nature which is not our human nature. And thus, as in most translations from continental fictitious literature, the work, with all its merits, will be pronounced dry and pointless, and add another to the list of unsuccessful efforts to naturalise fictions of that class amongst us.

We do not arrive at these conclusions without regret, for the work is the production of a gifted authoress, who writes in the cause of virtue, and pleads powerfully for the exercise of the kindliest feelings. Much of the story refers to a mother and son, whose lives are rendered miserable by mutual irritability of temper and ungovernable passion; and the manner in which this is treated is equally tender and effective. As a specimen of the authoress's powers, we shall endeavour to compress this part of the story into our pages. A few preliminary explanations are alone necessary.

STORY OF BRUNO.

The widow of General Mansfeld is a stern and aged dame, the step-mother of three sons, from whom the utmost reverence has always been exacted: living in an old castle, she maintains a certain degree of state, and is looked up to by her servants and tenants as a feudal baroness, but withal a kind and obliging mistress. The step-sons, during the life of the General, had been made to observe the most punctilious respect in the parental home, and to address the baroness on all occasions as "Ma chère mère." From this circumstance, the lady comes to receive no other title from them in after-life; and by this she is called throughout the work. At the death of their father, the young men go out into the world, and the domain reverts to Ma chère mère, by whom it had been brought into the family; and she is left with Bruno, her only son, the story of whose fate we propose to give. The early part is related by Lars Anders (one of the half brothers of Bruno) to his young wife, shortly after bringing her home to Rosenvik :-

"Ma chère mère had, by General Mansfeld, one only son, who was called Bruno, after his father. His birth nearly cost the life of the mother, and that which she had bought so dearly was more precious to

her than life itself. Many a time has she been seen on her knees by his cradle, as if worshipping him; many a time, when a slight indisposition has made his nights restless, she sat and watched by him. She suckled him herself; scarcely would permit any one beside herself to nurse him, scarcely to touch him. He slept in her bosom, he rested on her knee; her arms were his world, and they encircled him with undying love: and he, on his side, wild and despotic as he then was, hung on her neck with the utmost tenderness, and seemed to find rest nowhere but upon her bosom. It was beautiful to see them together; they were the lioness and her cub, who, in a union of savage strength and deep tenderness, combat together and caress at the same time. Thus the relation between mother and son was extraordinary, and sometimes hostile, even from the cradle. One day, as she laid him, a child of but nine months old, to her breast, either in hunger or passion, he bit her severely with his young coming teeth. Transported with the pain, the mother gave him a blow. The child let go the breast, and refused from that moment ever to take it again. He was weaned; for the mother could not tolerate the idea of his being nourished with the milk of a nurse. Afterwards, in his eighth year, as she attempted to give him a well-deserved correction, he turned like a young lion, and struck her.

Still, in the midst of scenes which exhibited on both sides the most ungovernable feelings, instances almost daily occurred which showed unlimited power of self-sacrifice; she threw herself between him and every danger, and he would kiss the very traces of her feet. When they met, even after a short separation, it was ever an outbreak of the warmest love; still, the next moment, perhaps, they would be at strife with each other. This state of feeling increased with years, for both were of the same powerful, determined character. They seemed unable to live either together or apart.

It would have been impossible to find anywhere a handsomer boy than Bruno was; and yet, although the mother worshipped him in her heart, her sense of justice was so strict, that she never, not even in the slightest instance, favoured him to his step-brothers' disadvantage. Never, if he deserved punishment, was he spared before them; never had a preference shown to him in regard of pleasure or reward; in no way had he the advantage of them, excepting in the caresses of his mother.

We were all brought up with severity; and, as regards money, were too scantily supplied. For myself, I always had an inclination towards economy; nevertheless, I was compelled to have recourse to my own innocent industry to supply myself with postagemoney, or the means to obtain any little outlay which Ma chère mère considered superfluous; hence I became, in secret, a carpenter.

Bruno was naturally extravagant, and prone to dissipation; and very early, in order to gratify his palate, or to appease his thirst for pleasure, resorted to less innocent means. He purloined what he could not obtain voluntarily, first from his brothers, then from the domestics; but no one dared to punish him for this, or to represent it to his mother, for the fierytempered boy, gifted with almost herculean strength, had obtained power over his brothers, and was feared not only by them, but by all the household. He was beloved by none, excepting by me; I cannot exactly say what it was in him that was so captivating to me; I admired, it is true, his great natural abilities. His wild and witty tricks often decoyed me to smile, at the same time that I was compelled to blame; but what operated most upon me was the simple fact, that I really think he liked me.

But I was seldom at home at this time; for, much older than he, I had finished my academical life as he began his, and was almost always from home in the pursuit of my medical profession. The influence which a child, a little girl, had over Bruno, from his thirteenth to his sixteenth year, was very extraordinary. This was Serena Löfven. The little angel-like child interested the wild Bruno, and it was wonderful to self-denial he was capable on her account. He left see what constraint he had over himself, and of what all, to carry her out into the woods-to caress her, or to sit quietly by and watch her while she slept. On holidays, or whenever he had a holiday, he went wandering forth early in the morning with a basket of eatables in his hand and Serena on his arm, and seldom were the two seen again before evening. All this improved Serena's health, and softened the temper of Bruno. One tear, or one prayer from her childish lips, was to him a more effectual incentive, than all the commands of his mother or of his

teachers.

tivated-the violent repressed, and the gentle yielded If this better part of Bruno's nature had been culto-I am convinced that he would have become a good and distinguished man; but his tutor, a person of rigid, unbending character, and still more his mother, seemed to have resolved only to make use of power in the subjection of his undisciplined will.

rage, nay, even his overbearing strength, constituted her pride, and made her eyes sparkle with delight at his approach, or even at the very speaking of his name. To have heard anything dishonourable of him must have been a death-blow to her. Bruno, too, had pride, and sense of honour, and the approbation of his mother was necessary to him; but his violent passions, and his inability to govern them, drew him perpetually into guilty conduct.

But now came a time when I passed several summer months at Ramm, and where, from what I saw of him, I hoped he had abandoned his evil courses. He had been confirmed in the spring, and now appeared thoughtful and mild. The connexion between him and his mother seemed more peaceful and affectionate than ever. I hoped he had conquered the darker part of his nature; he himself, too, said the same thing to me. But one thing I could not even then help observing; he had his own private expenses, and those to an extent far greater than his means ought to have allowed. For some time, it is true, I had been in a condition to assist him with money, and had hoped by this means to restrain him, and prevent its application to improper purposes. He frequently requested money from me, and I furnished him with as much as was in my power; but one day he requested so large a sum as astonished me. I refused; in fact, I could not do otherwise; and at the same time reproved him for this extravagance. He made no reply, but ground his teeth angrily, and left me. This was the last day we were to spend at home together; on the following he was to leave for the University, and I for S. That forenoon he went to the city to take leave of the old Dahls and their grandchild, his little bride, as he called Serena, and was not expected back till evening.

Immediately after dinner, the book-keeper entered the room in great agitation. He had missed, he said, a sum of money, which that very morning he had placed in his desk, and he must suspect the thief to be one of the household, as no one but those accustomed to the house knew where he was in the habit of keeping his money.

It was the first time, as Ma chère mère believed, that such a circumstance had occurred in the house; she, therefore, took up the affair with the greatest warmth. Accompanied by the book-keeper and two of her oldest and most faithful servants, she went through the whole house, inspected every corner, and examined all her domestics with the greatest severity; even the oldest amongst them were compelled to submit to the search. As nothing was discovered anywhere, not even the slightest trace which could lead to suspicion, she began to think that probably the informer himself might be the thief; and thus the possessions of the young book-keeper, and even the clothes which he wore, were subjected to a yet more severe scrutiny than those of the others had been.

This young man happened to be a personal enemy of Bruno; and whether he really suspected him, or whether he spoke in the bitterness which Ma chère mère's proceedings towards him awakened, I know not, but he said, with unmitigated chagrin, Your honour may perhaps find nearer home what you seek!'

What do you mean? demanded she, with an awful glance.

That your honour,' replied the irritated man, may find with your own flesh and blood that for which you have cast suspicions on innocent men!'

Man, you lie !' exclaimed Ma chère mère, pale with rage, seizing him and shaking him by the arm.

I will be a liar!' returned he, almost beside himself with passion, 'if one of your own sons be not a thief!'

Follow me!' said she; and with flashing eyes and pale cheeks, accompanied by the book-keeper and the two old servants, she went into our chamber.

I had been out, and had only just returned and been informed of what had occurred, as Ma chère mère, with her attendants, entered. I cannot describe the sensation which I felt at that moment; a foreboding of the true fact passed through me; I became velling-chest, which, together with mine, stood ready pale, and involuntarily seated myself on Bruno's trapacked for the journey. Ma chère mère looked at me with a penetrating glance, started, and became yet paler, whilst, with a firm voice, she said to me My sons, for the honour of the house, you must suband my brothers, who had also come into the roommit to the same search to which all the rest in the house have submitted. I need not tell you that all this is merely pro formâ, and that I am convinced of your innocence.'

With this she cast upon me a glance which was at that time inexplicable to me, and passing my chest After this she returned to the room, and opened my by, went and sought among my brother's things. packed-up chest. Everything was turned out, but nothing was found which had no right to be there; and When all had been examined, Ma chère mère cast at the bottom of all they found my carpenter's tools. upon me a glance full of maternal love and joy. Alas! she had had suspicions of me-of the thoughtful man, head, and one could read, in her strong expressive rather than the wild youth !-and now she raised her countenance, Thank God! now I am easy.'

"Now, then, there are only the things of the young baron left,' said one of the old servants respectfully, but the chest is locked; and, besides this, it is not necessary.

That may be,' said Ma chère mère, but he must fare like the rest; the box shall be broken open.' But the young baron is not at home,' said the servant anxiously; we cannot'

His mother commands it,' said she, warmly. It was done. With her own hand the mother took out books and clothes which had been thrown in in great disorder. Presently the hand was withdrawn, as if it had been burnt by red-hot iron; she had stumbled upon a bundle of notes. It was the missing money. She took it out; turned it about in her hand; examined it, as if she could not believe her own eyes; grew paler and paler; and then, exclaiming in a voice of inexpressible anguish, My blood !-my own flesh and blood!'-sank as if lifeless to the floor.

We carried her out; and our exertions at length recalled her to consciousness. Terrible was her awaking. But she shed no tear, uttered no word of anger or complaint. She appeared strong and determined. She sent immediately to Pastor Rhen, the clergyman of the district. He was a man of iron; stern, strong, and one ready to combat with word or deed, in support of what he considered right; and, more than this, he was an honest and faithful friend of Ma chère mère. To him she confided this painful circumstance, and they, too, decided the steps which should be taken in consequence. I anticipated what was designed, and made use of the influence I had frequently found myself to possess with Ma chère mère, to induce her, but in vain, to resort to less severe, or, at all events, less violent measures. But all my representations were useless. She merely answered, Unpunished crime only induces to still further crime. Bitter must be atoned for by bitter.'"

All were assembled in the hall. The door was opened, and Bruno stepped in, paused, and started. His mother, in a voice hollow and stern, was heard to accuse him of theft; and pointing to his rifled chest "and to the money which had been found in it, she demanded his confession.

Bruno acknowledged himself guilty with an inconceivably bold haughtiness.

Fall upon your knees, and receive your punishment!' said the stern judge. But Bruno bent not. A consciousness which, after his haughty confession, seemed to have deprived him of all volition, overwhelmed him; he stood pale as death, his head dropped upon his breast, and his eyes riveted to the ground." A scene of anger and strife ensued. The mother finally demanded whether he "would submit himself to her will, or receive her curse? Mother and son looked at each other with eyes of flame and defiance. They stood so long. Again she repeated the question; and then followed terrible words on both sides. Again all was still; the curse-speaking lips became stiff, the haughty glance dimmed, and mother and son sank fainting together. Both were carried to their separate chambers.

In the night, when all was dark and still, we heard a wild, prolonged, and thrilling cry from his room. I sprang up and hastened there. Bruno's mother was standing there alone, with a wild and agitated look; he was gone. The open window seemed to indicate that he had made his escape that way, although a descent from a height like that appeared almost incredible; but yet it was so. Bruno fled that night from his mother's roof, and never returned. We never heard tidings of him, and all inquiries were vain. He seemed as completely to be gone as if cut out from the number of the living. Seventeen years have passed since this unhappy time, and we have never discovered the least trace of him.

From the moment of Bruno's escape, Ma chère mère spoke not one word for three years. She shut herself in her own room, which was darkened; would endure neither light nor the sight of man; and spoke to no one but a single faithful attendant."

Here Lars Anders finishes his narrative. We learn, as the work proceeds, that Ma chère mère returns to a state of seeming contentment, but leaves the castle of Ramm, and betakes herself to that of Carlsfors, at a few miles' distance. Years pass on; the step-sons marry, and occasionally pay a friendly visit to the baroness. The name of Bruno is never mentioned; he is believed to be dead in some foreign clime. The wife of Lars is deeply affected with the story of his flight, and speaks of him to the gentle Serena, who musters up recollections of him in his infancy.

"I remember yet so well how Bruno led me about in the woods, or drew me in my little carriage. The first impressions which I received of the beauty of life and nature were from this time. I remember so well, how the murmuring in the woods delighted me, and how I was enchanted with the flowers which he gathered for me. If he sang, I sang too, and when he bore me in his arms, and sprang over the moun tain ravines, I felt no fear. He was never impatient or unfriendly towards me; and I shall never forget how once, when he was about to beat one of his brothers, he desisted when I wept, and called him by Ah, depend upon it, that he was not wisely treated. They certainly had not sufficient regard for his ability of loving. Had they, he would not have caused his mother so much anxiety, and not have fled from his home and his fatherland."

his name.

And what do you suppose occasioned his flight from home?' I inquired.

I have been told,' said Serena, that dissension with his mother, and severe treatment on her side, occasioned it. There was great similarity in their

tempers. They opposed obstinacy to obstinacy--force against force. Bruno must have died in his exile. Poor Bruno! I have truly lamented his fate, he was so good to me!' said she with a mournful countenance, whilst a sentiment of deep sadness filled my heart also."

Impelled by an unquenchable desire to revisit early scenes, and be reconciled to his mother, Bruno returns. He beseeches the wife of Lars to intercede for him, and to procure an interview with his parent; but the attempt to mollify her hostility is in vain. Chance at length puts it in the power of Bruno to rescue his mother from a sudden death by the impetuous flight of her horses and carriage, and in doing so, both suffer serious personal injury. The mother and son, after years of alienation, now stood face to face. "Their looks seemed to pierce through each other. Ma chère mère seemed to be smitten with the wildest amazement, and stepped a little backwards. Bruno moved a step forward, and said slowly, and as with a benumbed tongue, 'You are rescued. God be praised! And for me now only remains to die, or to win forgiveness! My mother! my mother!' exclaimed he at once, as if an angel had loosened tongue and feeling, while, with a heart-rending expression, he sank down and embraced her knees. My mother, wilt thou not pardon? wilt thou not bless thy son? Take the curse from my brow. Mother, I have suffered much! I have wandered about without peace! I am destitute of peace yet: peace can never be mine while I am thrust from thy bosom. I have suffered; I have suffered much; I have repented; I can and will atone. But then you must pardon; you must bless me, mother. Mother, take away the curse! Lay a blessing on my head. Mother, will you not staunch the blood which flows on your account? See, mother!' and Bruno raised his clotted locks, through which deep and streaming wounds were visible; 'see, mother! if thou wilt not lay thy hand here in blessing, I swear that this blood-stream shall never cease till my life has welled out with it, and has sunk me to the grave, on which alone thou wilt lay thy forgiveness. There, there first shall I find peace. Oh, mother! was an error in young and wild years, then, so unpardonable? Cannot a later life of virtue and of love make atonement? Mother! cast me not off. Let the voice of thy son penetrate to thy heart. Bestow on me forgiveness, full forgiveness!'

Overcome by my feelings, I threw myself on my knees by Bruno, and cried, Pardon ! Pardon !'

What during this time passed in Ma chère mère's heart, I know not. It seemed to be a contest of life and death. She moved not; with a fixed and immovable gaze she looked down at the kneeling one, and convulsive twitches passed over her pale lips. But as his voice ceased, she lifted her hand and pressed it strongly against her heart. My son! Oh!' said she, with a hollow voice. She sighed deeply; her countenance became yellow, her eyes closed, she reeled, and would have fallen to the ground, if Bruno had not sprung up and caught her in his arms.

He stood. a moment still, his mother pressed to his bosom, and gazed on her countenance, over which death seemed to have shed his awful peace. 'Is it thus,' said he, with a forced calmness, 'is it thus, then, that we are reconciled, mother? Thus thou restest on the bosom of thy son, and he on thine. Thou art pale, my mother, but peaceful, and lookest kind-kind as God's propitiation. It was not thus that I saw thee the last time; but the hour of wrath is over; is it not so, my mother? The grave has opened itself, and we go down there reconciled, and heart to heart; one in my last hour, as we were one at my first sigh!' and he kissed her pale lips and cheeks with passionate tenderness.

'Bruno Bruno!' I exclaimed, imploringly, and weeping, seized his arm. 'Bruno, you kill your mother and yourself when you go on in this manner. Come, we will lay her on a bed. We must endeavour to recall her to consciousness; we must bind your wounds.' Bruno made no answer, but took his mother in his arms, and carried her into another room, where he laid her softly down upon a bed.

I stood near her pillow; I stood between mother and son; and instead of answering her question, I drew myself back, and their eyes met each other. A beam of heavenly light, of ineffable love, kindled in them; and in it melted their souls into one. She raised herself with energy, and stretched out her hand with the warmest expression of maternal feeling, while she said, My son, come hither: I will bless

thee !'

6

He stood up. The tall gigantic man staggered like a child, and sunk on his knees by the bed of his mother. She laid her hands on his bloody head, and said, with a strong voice and a deep solemnity, I take away the curse which I once laid on the head of my son. I bestow on him my full forgiveness. May the man atone for the error of the youth. Let the past be as if it never had been. I acknowledge that I owe my life to my son; and I pray God Almighty to bless thee, my son Bruno Mansfeld, as I bless thee now. Amen! With that she opened her arms; he clasped his round her; bosom was pressed to bosom, lip to lip; they held one another in a long and close embrace. Every breath seemed to be full of reconciliation, of love, and happiness. Fifteen years of bitter pangs were in this moment recompensed and forgotten. I stood near them, and wept for joy and thankfulness."

We must hasten to conclude. Ma chère mère and the son, now restored to her affections, recover from their wounds, and repair to the castle of Carlsfors, where there is shortly a merry marriage party, in which Serena is the bride.

OCCASIONAL NOTES.

AN INTERESTING PAMPHLET. A SMALL pamphlet, not unlike a pocket-almanac in shape and appearance, has just been brought under our notice. It is in Welsh, and the title runs thus-" Ar Wrteithiau: Allan o Draethawd ar Amaethyddiaeth a Diwylliant; gan James Jackson, Penicuik." The English of this is-"On Manures: Taken from a Treatise on Agriculture and Dairy Husbandry; by James Jackson, Penicuik." When we edited the treatise of this worthy example of Scotia's peasantry, and sent it into the world in the guise of our "People's Editions," we little thought that a portion of it would so speedily (albeit without permission asked), find its way into Welsh and be thumbed at the firesides of old Cambria. Yet such is the case, and we have another instance of how humble merit will sometimes push its way upward, and become known in spite of all things to the contrary. A passage in English tells us that the treatise is "highly approved of, and patronised by Sir R. W. Vaughan, Bart., Sir W. W. Wynn, Bart., and the Right Hon. the Earl of Powis." This is gratifying. There are some Welsh landowners, it appears, alive to the value of knowledge in one of the most important departments of husbandry, and whose example cannot fail, we should think, to infect others. If the recommendations conveyed in our friend Jackson's treatise were duly followed, we feel quite assured that many thousands of pounds now lost would annually be saved to the country.

IRELAND, AS A FIELD OF EMIGRATION FOR SCOTSMEN. [The following notes as to the advantages of emigrating to Ireland from Scotland, and we suppose we may add England, have been handed to us by a gentleman who has lived many years among our Irish brethren, and is very much impressed with the truth of the observations which he has been led to make. We pronounce no opinion on the subject, and only recur to the many thousands of times told truth, that the grand reason why men of skill and capital have not repaired to Ireland in greater numbers, has been the unsettled state of the country and the terror of personal maltreatment. Let it be convincingly shown that English capital may be safely embarked in improving and working the great natural resources of Ireland, and millions of pounds, now lying useless, will be speedily transferred across the channel.] Ir the young men of Scotland were aware of the fair prospects of doing well in Ireland, in almost any walk of life, many more would seek their fortune in that country. Difficult as it may be to believe, there is, perhaps, no country in the world in which, at this moment, a steady industrious man, above the class of the common labourer, would more certainly succeed than in Ireland. The industrious mechanic, the shopman, the tradesman, &c., have there a fine field. No one can travel through Ireland without being astonished at the backward condition of almost all parts of this fertile island. Various unfortunate circumstances have hitherto prevented its improvement. But these have mostly been removed, and the political and religious ferments of the country are fast wearing out. All classes seem disposed to countenance, if not to practise, sobriety; and all appear to have awakened to the advantages of a steady application to matters of practical utility. Ireland, indeed, like Scotland after 1745, seems to be just commencing that career years, so splendidly realised. of improvement which Scotland has, in seventy or eighty

While Scotland is almost overrun with active young men seeking for opportunities or openings for the exercise of their industry in any respectable station of life, Ireland stands in need of exactly the description of persons who so much abound, but who cannot find suitable employment, in Scotland. With the exception of a very few of the principal towns on the coast, nothing in Europe equals in wretchedness the towns in Ireland. The want thing which constitutes an advanced state of civilisation, of tolerable inns; of shops; of tradesmen; of all and everyis distressing to the native of Great Britain who may visit this fine island. I was compelled lately to pass several days in a town in the interior, containing about 20,000 inhabitants, in which the only place of entertainment, called by Irish courtesy the Hotel, was so filthy, disgusting, and miserable, that I became actually unwell from vexation. This miserable inn was, notwithstanding its want of all proper accommodation, crowded with strangers drawn to the town by business, like myself, and all venting their unavailing complaints to the landlord. There is no want of circulation of people in the interior of the country, nor of a moderate internal trade. All that is wanting are business, more energy and enterprise; all of which a better better accommodations, better shops, better habits of Scotland above described, would abundantly provide, educated, more civilised people, like the young men of greatly to their own advantage, and to the benefit of the country.

Of late years, a number of Scotch houses of business have been established in the principal towns of Ireland, apparently with all the success which they merit. Their example has been most striking in producing better habits, and more activity amongst the native shopkeepers. Judging from the overflowing congregations in the Presbyterian churches, it is supposed that the tide of emigration has set in strongly from Scotland, more particularly as the number of those churches is yearly increasing in Ireland.

more might find employment, if not fortune, in Ireland. Still, the field is so ample, that thousands and thousands The advantages which Ireland offers to the active and industrious Scotchman are, that common rough labour

18 cheap, that the various classes of shopkeepers, tradesmen, mechanics, &c., are usually idle, negligent, often extravagant, and more disposed to spend than to get money; and too many are positively dishonest in their dealings. Generally, they possess no proper system or method in managing their affairs. It is often remarked, that wherever the active and careful Scotchman enters into competition in any branch of business, in any town, with the less industrious Irish tradesman, that the shop of the latter is either soon improved or soon closed. Many of the most thriving and wealthy men in Ireland are natives of Scotland, who settled in Ireland with no capital, having nothing to depend upon but their own steady and persevering exertions, by which they have, greatly to their credit, earned large fortunes. Though the field is ample, yet it must not be expected that it will yield fruit without toil and care. But what so many young men, natives of Scotland, have done in almost every industrious calling in Ireland, it may be fairly hoped that others can do.

colossal figures, which represent "the three precious Buddhas" Me-lih Fuh, whose reign is already past; Heen-tsee-Fuh, that person of Buddha who now reigns over the world; and We-loe-Fuh, whose reign is yet There is but little difference in these mon

to come.

strous idols, which are nearly twenty feet in height, save that the last mentioned, typifying the "future" power, sits with clasped hands. They are formed of clay, and entirely covered with burnished gold. Near to the temple is an interesting group, consisting of three literary gentlemen, a mandarin of the fourth class, and servants. One figure is supposed to be reading aloud a translation of Asop's Fables. In the hand of this philosopher the visitor observes what he would naturally take for a smelling bottle, were he not apprised that it is a receptacle for snuff. Tobacco, transmuted into snuff, appears to be carried, not in boxes, but in small bottles, with stoppers, to which there is attached a little spoon, or shovel. With this we are told they take out the pungent dust, and place it upon the back of the left hand, near the lower joint THE CHINESE COLLECTION. of the thumb, whence it is snuffed up to the olfacONE of the principal objects of attraction in London tories, there to perform its titilating office. A porfor the last few months has been a large and highly tion of the furniture of this compartment consists of interesting collection of articles from China. The col- a pair of Chinese book-cases made of ebony, the panels lection is the result of twelve years' indefatigable exer- and other parts of which are exquisitely carved and tions on the part of Mr Dunn, an American gentle- highly polished. The books are kept in the lower man. That he has been carried through his under- section, where they are protected from dust by doors taking by enthusiastic perseverance, is self-evident; in front; the doors, however, are at present open, a and we have ourselves derived so much instruction servant being in the act of handing a volume to one and gratification from a visit to his exhibition, that of the gentlemen; the upper section is an open cabiwe would fain shadow forth our feelings, however net, divided into five unequal compartments, in which faintly, to readers whose distant homes deny them a are arranged divers ornamental articles. The bookssimilar privilege. Situated near Hyde Park, and the looking, when open, very like manuscript music, but edifice having been erected for the purpose, let the printed only on one side of the paper-are laid in reader imagine an apartment 225 feet in length by 50 a horizontal position, and the titles are placed on in width, with lofty ceilings supported by numerous the end instead of the back, each work of several pillars. Or such as have but vague ideas of measured volumes being preserved in an envelope or case of blue space, must understand that this chamber is vast nankeen or silk. Between the book-cases are susenough to contain many completely fitted up Chinese pended on the wall a pair of silken scrolls bearing the rooms, and two entire houses, with shops, stock in trade, following maxims:-"The sages taught four things &c. &c. And as the last are among the startling novel--Letters, Morality, Fidelity, Truth;" and "the ties which first attract a stranger, we will begin by highest pleasure is not equal to the study of letters." describing them, although they are placed nearly at The mandarin of the party, who is listening attentively the end of the catalogue; a book, by the way, to which to the fable, is dressed in a long silk petticoat fastened we gladly refer when our own notes are at fault. The round the waist by a belt, which is united in front by first is a silk mercer's shop, as seen in the streets of a clasp. A variety of accoutrements is attached to Canton, completely furnished, the house for the family this belt, rather military in appearance, but not at all being over the retail establishment. The figures both formidable in reality. In fact, a Chinese never goes here and throughout the collection are so wonderfully armed, as the jealousy of the government has denied life-like, that it is with difficulty we can persuade our- the privilege of wearing arms to all except soldiers on selves they will not presently begin to speak, the de- parade. The appendages referred to are, therefore, lusion being of courso greatly assisted by the costumes, altogether peaceful, such as a silk fan sheath, emwhich are, in fact, veritable dresses of the Chinese. broidered tobacco pouches, &c. The cap is coneThe figures are the size of life, and are modelled from shaped, but not turned up at the edge, having crima peculiar species of clay admirably adapted for the son silk pendant from the crowning ball. This is a purpose, and afford specimens of a style of art altosummer cap. While on the subject of costume, we gether new in England. Though a sort of family re- may as well advert to the fact, that the dress of every semblance runs through almost all the collection, we grade of society in China is fixed by usage-persons understand they are, for the most part, accurate like- in the lower class wearing coarse and dark-coloured nesses of individuals, some of whom are yet living. fabrics, while those who have been more favoured in High cheek-bones, small eyes, flat noses, a dingy yel- the accidents of birth and fortune, seek the gratificalowish complexion, and rather a heavy expression tion of their tastes in costly silks, satins, furs, broadof countenance, seem the prevailing characteristics. cloths, and embroidery. There is, consequently, much In the mercer's shop two purchasers have been placed variety, though "the general mode is not departed at the counter, one of whom is scrutinising a piece of from, the usual articles being a shirt, drawers, a long silk that lies before him. The owner, behind the gown or pelisse, buttoning in front, stockings and counter, is carelessly leaning forward, and intent on shoes. The shoes are singular; generally of emcasting an account on the "calculating dish" (a strange broidered cloth, sometimes the uppers being of one looking thing, not very unlike a dish of wooden beads), colour, sometimes another. The lower portion of the the Chinese being no adepts at mental arithmetic; soles is leather made of hog's skins, while the interwhile his clerk is busy making entries in the book, in mediate space, commonly about an inch in thickness, doing which he shows their method of holding a pen- is filled up with bamboo paper, with the edge painted cil, which is placed perpendicularly between the thumb white. They are quite light, notwithstanding their and all the fingers. It is customary with the Chinese clumsy appearance." Blue seems a favourite colour; shopkeepers to eat their daily meals in their places of frequently the entire dress is of this hue, or, if not, it business; in the present instance, a servant is prepar- is greatly decorated with it. ing breakfast. A circular eight-legged table, very similar to those used by our great-grandfathers, is spread at the end of the shop; among its furniture the ivory chop-sticks are the most novel; and how they do contrive to convey the food to their mouth with these loose sticks, we know not, unless they accept aid from those primitive forks-fingers; a supposition not altogether unlikely. On the left hand sits a gentleman with a pipe, perhaps a chance comer, just dropped in about meal-time; at the door, a blind beggar probably of the unhappy class deprived of sight in infancy by their inhuman parents for the purpose of exciting compassion-stands beating two bamboo sticks against each other, an operation with which he continues to annoy all whom he visits, till he is relieved by some trifling gratuity. A small covered tub filled with tea, with a few cups close by, stands on the counter, from which we are informed all customers are invited to help themselves. We should add, that an air of order pervades the shop, and that the shelves seem arranged much after our own fashion. Here, as elsewhere, we find one or two inscriptions hung up against the wall: and we will transcribe the translation of a few of these amusing scrolls. "Gossipping and long sitting injure business." "Former customers have inspired caution-no credit given." "A small stream always flowing." "Trade circling like a wheel," &c. The "next door neighbour's" is a china repository, much on the same scale as the silk mercer's, and its rich stock is somewhat tantalising to the lovers of such ware.

Opposite to the houses and shops we are presented with the section of a religious temple, containing three

Our readers are probably aware that coarse sackcloth is the universal mourning apparel in China; and we are here presented with a gentleman thus attired. The shoes are white; the hair and beard are permitted to grow unshaven; and an odd species of headgear surmounts the cranium. He is attended by a servant, who carries a mourning lamp, of which a number are exhibited in their funeral processions, and are distinguished from all others by the presence of the emblematic white. They wear mourning for a considerable period; and three years must elapse, after the death of a parent, before children are permitted to marry.

Not far from the mourners we find a Chinese sedan, in which the owner is comfortably seated, while he is borne gently along by a couple of coolies. And here, as in all the instances already alluded to, we must beg the reader to remember, that these are no miniature representations, but full-size figures, most wonderfully life-like, their dress and appendages being all real. The width of a street in Canton is delineated, and the sedan, except that it is more open and of gayer colours, is not very unlike, in construction, those used by us in the last century; the bearers, however, support it on their shoulders, instead of carrying the poles in their hands. Here, again, we learn that the distinctions of rank prevail; for private gentlemen are allowed only two bearers, civil officers four, viceroys eight, while the emperor's dignity requires sixteen. Mandarins are preceded by men bearing pendant banners, with an inscription that signifies, "Clear the way."

The extreme end of the long apartment-having the groups we have mentioned, and many others equally

full of interest, arranged along the sides-is occupied by a pavilion, forming, in fact, the termination of the saloon, from which it is separated by a species of carved net-work, which seemed to us as beautiful as it was unique. The carving, forming, as it were, a magnificent frame to the scene represented within, penetrates entirely through the wood, and represents figures of animals, birds, flowers, fruits, &c., the colours being as gorgeous as gilding and paint can make them; yet they are so skilfully disposed, as to harmonise perfectly, and could not, we think, offend the most delicate taste. The room thus enclosed is a perfect fac-simile of an apartment in a wealthy Chinaman's dwelling. In the opposite corners are placed square carved tables of some hard wood, with marble tops, and hangings of embroidered velvet, on which a servant has placed some fruit for the refreshment of the guests. On the right of one of these stands a long high table, similar to a common sideboard, upon which rests ornamental stands and fruit. On each side of the apartment are chairs of a corresponding style, alternately arranged with small tea stands, with a footstool for each chair, besides flower-pots, porcelain stools, embroidered silk lanterns, and other trifling articles of furniture; while opposite to us is an aperture in the wall, which we certainly did not at first take for a door, or rather doorway, or aperture for exit; but such it is, though of an oval form, and surrounded with an ornamental fret-work similar to the exterior. Through this doorway we are favoured with a perspective view of Chinese scenery. The walls of the room are hung with a variety of decorations, chiefly long silken scrolls with maxims; and feather fans, china vases, and many ornamental articles, are scattered in profusion. The pavilion contains six figures, intended to represent the mode of paying and receiving visits. Tea and pipes seem to be served on these occasions, as well as sweetmeats or dried fruits. The common mode of salutation is to join the closed hands, and lift them twice or thrice to the head, saying, "Haou-tsing-tsing" that is, "Are you well." "Hail! hail!" And at other times, when said to persons of whom they have before heard on first meeting them, "Ioo yang fang ming," or, "I have heretofore thought with veneration on your fragrant name."

But it would be nearly impossible to describe half the scenes which memory recalls; the company of actors in their fanciful and gorgeous dresses, the female characters being, as was once the case in England, represented by youths; the jugglers in the act of performing their frightful feats, or the artisans at their different trades-the latter, to our mind, far more agreeable objects. Perhaps a useful hint might be obtained from the manner in which the cobbler wears his spectacles. He bends over his work, of course, much as an English shoemaker does, but he is protected from the otherwise very possible disaster of the spectacles falling off, by their ends being formed as loops, which fasten easily round the ear. Not the least curious articles to which our attention was drawn, were the far-famed lanterns, several kinds being here presented to our view. They are made of horn, silk, glass, or paper, and sometimes of a netting of fine thread, overspread with a thick coating of varnish, the frame being often richly carved, and the silk which covers it elegantly embroidered. A late writer, remarking the national attachment of the Chinese to their lamps and lanterns, and the constant use of them, relates the following amusing anecdote. When Captain Maxwell passed the Bogue in the Alceste frigate, as he came up with the battery of the A-ming-hoy, the fort appeared well lighted, and a brisk cannonade was commenced upon the ship. However, after the first broadside had been fired upon the fortress, the whole place was deserted, and the embrasures were quickly as dark as before. The Chinese were thoroughly frightened, and ran off with all precipitation. At the same time, instead of concealing their flight in the darkness of the night, each man seized his lantern, and clambered with it up the steep side of the hill immediately behind the fort. The sight of so many bald-pated soldiers, with their long pigtails dangling at their backs, each with a great pointed balloon in his hand, must have been extremely ludicrous, and probably took away any slight inclination the marines might have felt to have a shot at such excellent marks. Besides these, there are many hundreds of curious implements of household use, specimens of the rich manufactures of the Chinese, as well as the ingenious contrivances for which they have been so justly famed; so that after a visit, as long as that we paid to this most wonderful collection, one feels inclined to talk of one's "residence in the celestial empire." That the Chinese are descended from the wandering Tartar tribes, there is, of course, no doubt; and it is not a very fanciful notion to trace, even in their present architecture, some remains of their original dwellings-tents. To ponder over the change that thousands of years have effected, which have converted restless wanderers into that nation of all which cover the earth, the most serried in their dwellings, and the least inclined to roam from them, is neither uninteresting, nor, we hope, unprofitable; but in their case it seems more than commonly difficult to prove, from a knowledge of the past, true prophets of the future. Shut up from the period of their very origin as a nation, denied the reflected light of the stranger's wisdom, the Chinese people have remained children in intellectual advancement; while, if we may use the metaphor, later born