light tracery work of the gallery overhead harmonizes with the books well. It is a very comfortable-looking room, and very unlike any other I ever was in. I should not forget some Highland claymores, clustered round a target over the Canterbury people, nor a writing-box of carved wood, lined with crimson velvet, and furnished with silver plate of right venerable aspect, which looked as if it might have been the implement of old Chaueer himself, but which from the arms on the lid must have belonged to some Italian prince of the days of Leo the Magnificent at the furthest. The view to the Tweed from all the principal apartments is beautiful. You look out from among bowers, over a lawn of sweet turf, upon the clearest of all streams, fringed with the wildest of birch woods, and backed with the green hills of Ettricke Forest. The rest you must imagine. Altogether, the place destined to receive so many pilgrimages contains within itself beauties not unworthy of its associations. Few poets ever inhabited such a place; none, ere now, ever created It is the realization of dreams: some Frenchman called it, I hear, "a romance in stone and lime.”—The Anniversary. one. IRELAND AS IT IS; IN 1828. (From Blackwood's Magazine.) To the eye accustomed to English improve ment and cultivation, the first appearance of the surface of the land in Ireland is anything but encouraging, and one scarcely can believe that the bare unsheltered fields upon which one looks, produce good crops, and pay a high rent. The houses of the gentry are thinly scattered, and, except in their immediate vicinity, trees are not often to be seen. Even in the neighbourhood of the metropolis, except on the road which runs directly south, along the coast, where the great beauty of the situation has invited gentlemen to build mansions, and to adorn them with plantations; the land is badly fenced with crumbling walls of dry mud, or loose round stones. The surface is uneven and hard looking, and often disgracefully overrun with weeds. The smooth, soft, luxuriant verdure, the waving woods, the splendid seats, the land rich with the culture of centuries, and the substantial comfortable looking houses which make a man warm but to look at in England, are not to be seen there. In some districts -in the Queen's county, for example, and the county of Carlow-there is something like the appearance of England, but it is of brief duration. The feeling of pleasure which the appearance of improvement excites, is hardly formed, when some scene of poverty and gross negligence meets the observation, and renews the sense of deep regret, that the best gifts of nature should be so scandalously neglected or abused. It is, however, quite manifest, that with very little trouble, beyond a constant superintendance, on the part of those whose interest, and we will venture to say whose duty it is, to take that trouble, or make some one else take it for them, a change of the happiest nature could soon be effected. There is a striking example of this within a short distance of Dublin. From the time the traveller leaves the city, by the great southwestern road, until he arrives at the village called Johnstoun, which we believe is distant about fourteen Irish miles, he meets with little to give him pleasure. The land is as we have described, and the cottages along the road are exceedingly poor, and extremely dirty. But suddenly a most exhilarating change takes place the fences by the way side are perceived to be good, and the hedges in the best order-the cottages are clean and tidy looking. Instead of a heap of turf ashes and a puddle, an overturned tub, and a pig, and two or three dirty children about the door, you find a neat little garden, or some flowering tree trained up against the front of the dwelling; and if you look in, you see a gaily set out dresser, as they call the open cupboard where they keep their crockery ware, and a clean-swept floor. The gate into the field, too, instead of being broken, and hanging on one hinge, with a bush thrust beneath it to prevent the egress of the lesser cattle, and the ingress of "indolently wandering" swine, is sound and whole, and no "singularity is affected" in the article of hinges. Finally, if the traveller has the good fortune to see all this on a fine sunny morning, when all nature looks glad and happy, he will rejoice exceedingly at the contrast, to what he has previously beheld. But his carriage soon bears him beyond this comfortable region, and rugged fences and wretched cabins again appear on right and left. Should he inquire how it happens that the place he has just quitted looks so differently from all the rest of the road, he will be told "O, Sir, her ladyship is mighty strict wid the people in that naybrud."* "But who is the lady who does so much good?" "It's Lord Mayo that lives there, your honour, an' owns all the place about, an' there's a Scotch steward to look after the people, an' my lady is very particular wid the poor people, and goes into their little places hersel, so she does, an' if it's a thing that they doant keep them dacent, devil a one of um she lets stay in it." Neighbourhood. As the traveller proceeds, he will occasionally find in various parts of the country, similar good effects arising from a landlord's residence and superintendence; but unfortunately they are of insignificant extent when compared with the whole face of the country. It is to be observed, that where improvements do take place in Ireland, they are in general very judiciously and tastefully managed, and if they have less of the solid and enduring qualities of English improvements, they frequently display more of elegance and of fancy than are dreamt of in our philosophy." Dublin is delightfully situated, and the views around it are of unrivalled beauty. The Phoenix Park is indeed a Phoenix. Of such extent, that beside it all London parks are but as little pleasure grounds, and most agreeably diversified with hill and dale, and level plains. Then it is all embosomed in a wavy round of graceful-looking hills, placed just at the boundary where distance lends enchantment to the view, leaving that beautiful which Nature made so, and throwing her sky-blue mantle over the nakedness of the land. The city itself is one of the most beautiful in Europe. Its streets are airy, wide, and well to pass, furnished with admirable, and architectural buildings not a few. The squares are numerous, and some magnificent; none other in Europe can cope with Saint Stephen's. There is more, indeed, of the illætabile murmur, the mere smoke and din of concentrated humanity, in London, as very well there may; but in Dublin they preserve with tolerable success the golden mean between this, and the leaden dulness of other cities, and though a man with twenty thousand a-year can doubtless purchase more enjoyment for his money in London, yet such Irish nobles and gentles as may not annex a fourth cipher to the significant digit which indicates their rent-roll, will, if they have but the grace to try the experiment, find themselves a thousand times better off in their own metropolis, than lost in the crowd of that of England. True it is, and not a fable, that there is not in Dublin sufficient society of the highest class to afford any considerable variety; and he who dines at the Castle on Tuesday with Lords A. B. C. and D., from whom respectively he receives invitations for the remaining days of the week, inay calculate with tolerable certainty on meeting those identical noble letters of the alphabet successively at the several houses of the aforesaid peers. The very great, however, are not unfrequently like fresh-water fish but an insipid people; and if a man can slide quietly down to the dignitaries of divinity and law, the gentry and tip-top professionals, including a very numerous garrison, Dublin affords much delightful society. More joyous gaiety, more of the racy spirit of glee, pervades the relaxation of those who labour, than the leisure of those who always rest; and the Irish appear to be naturally possessed of a happier temperament in this respect, than their graver brethren over the water. The men of law, for example, are quite a different species of animal from your English lawyer. In England, he is the mere creature of the profession, scarcely mixing at all in society, and when he does, appearing to very little advantage there; because, instead of knowing a little about every thing, which is requisite in order to chatter fluently, he only knows every thing about a little. Now in Ireland, on the contrary, a lawyer's success, even at the bar, depends, in some measure, on his being considered l'homme comme il faut in the bienséances of society, as well as in the practice of the courts; and in the very performance of their professional duties, too, they are much less confined to particular branches, or to particular courts than in England. Accordingly, the Irish sons of Lycurgus, are more generally intelligent than in England, and conversant with a more widely extended range of topics, though certainly not at all so accurately versed in the minute details of their own profession. The women of England are at the first more pleasant companions to a stranger than Irish women; they have an air of frankness, and a supply of conversational remark, ready cut and dry for all occasions, which is very agreeable; but there is something in the nature of man in these northern countries-we mean as distinguished from woman-that quarrels with this very openness. In a matron, indeed, the softened dignity of a glad and affectionate eye, gives us unmixed delight, because we fully appreciate the feeling it expresses of kindly and warm benevolence towards all, combined with devotedness of heart to one; but in a maiden we like to find that sensibility and shrinking delicacy, which form the fairy web of feminine modesty, although they are not so easy of access and intimacy. In this we think the gentle ones of the higher classes of society in Ireland have the superiority. We beg pardon for this little digression about Dublin and Irish ladies, and hope we shall stand excused even for stepping a little out of our way to pay them a deserved compliment. But to return. We believe there can be no doubt of the fact, that improvement, if not with "giant strides," is still with steady step advancing in Ireland. The light of knowledge is winging its way through the thick darkness which covered the land; and without being too visionary, we may anticipate, that ere very long, it will dissipate many of the clouds of error, and prejudice, and superstition, which have so long hung between the people and their own best interests. It is impossible that men, when instructed, can remain slaves to the vicious habits which have hitherto kept them poor and wretched. The gentry will become ashamed of their neglect; the peasantry of their indolence, their distress, their indifference to outward decency, and domestic comfort. They will perceive the folly and the wickedness of marrying without any prospect of the means of providing for an increasing family; and a pauper population will become a decent yeomanry. All this may be done, if the present spirit can be kept up; but this we admit is no easy effort. None but those who have resided in Ireland can form an adequate idea of the multitude of vexations, which continually thwart those who are best disposed to do good; and nothing but the greatest patience, and keeping the eye steadily fixed upon the excellence of the end which is sought to be attained, can bear the improver up in the difficult path through which he has to work his way. The rooted bad habits of the people, which nothing but a severity, that it is painful to exercise, can eradicate, the provoking indifference of some, and the perverse opposition of others, to the plans of education which are formed; the hostile influence frequently exerted by the Roman Catholic clergy, against all instruction of which they are not to have the absolute direction; and the frequent absence of the landed proprietor, whose cooperation is necessary all tend to vex and dishearten the most patriotic landlords, and not unfrequently have the effect of driving them away to England or to France, disgusted with the bad success of their labours. But this should not be the sense of a good cause, and the probability, amounting almost to certainty, that perseverance will accomplish the object, should bear them onward in their course, and certainly have already borne many on to ultimate success, whose praise is proportionate to the difficulty and the excellence of their undertaking. In the year 1811, the Commissioners of Education estimated the number of schools, in Ireland, at 4690, and the number of scholars at 200,000. The new Commissioners, who took extraordinary pains to be accurate, have stated the numbers, in 1824, to be-schools, 11,823-scholars, 560,549. This is an immense improvement, and its effects upon the general surface of society must be very great. It is an improvement, too, of the very best kind. It does not seek to throw down by one violent effort the evils which have grown up to such strength; but it will gradually and quietly come home to men's business and bosoms, and reform the error of their ways. The opposition, given by the Roman Catholic clergy, to the schools established by the Protestant gentry, is one of the very worst features of their conduct. We can scarcely conceive it possible that they are sincere in their alleged dread of proselytism, because they are observing men, and must perceive that no such thing is attempted in the schools. There is no foundation for their fears, except that which may be afforded by the general improvement of the minds of the scholars; and how shameful is that tyranny which would seek to maintain its sway, by binding down its subjects with the chains of ignorance? If to maintain their authority be their object, the policy of this system of resistance to education is extremely bad, and will in time defeat itself. There are already instances of little children resolutely refusing to stay away from school at the bidding of the priest; and the peasantry are sharp enough to see, although they have as yet but seldom courage enough to avow, that it is for no good purpose they are prevented from obtaining knowledge. "Sure we know very well that he wants to keep our children from school, because he'd like to be the only one that can read and write, and then he'd have his own way entirely' was the observation of a poor tenant, when a dispute upon the school-house was the subject of conversation."* The character of the Irish peasantry is of an exceedingly mixed nature, containing a great deal to conciliate the affections, and a great deal to offend the judgment. They abound in feeling, and in a kind of sentimental morality which is excellent as an appendage to the sterner and more solid virtues, but is a very inadequate substitute for them. Quick and sensitive perhaps to a fault, they are the creatures of caprice and impulse, rather than of reflection and right reason-light-hearted, and light-headed, they are reckless alike of good and of evil, and rush into acts of extravagant kindness, or outrageous violence, upon motives which, to those of calmer and more reflecting habits, appear ridiculously inadequate to their effects. The Irish generally-the common people universally are more apt to be generous than just. A peasant will fight for his master's honour and good name, while he is carrying home in his pocket his master's property which he has pilfered. Generally speaking, they seem to think petty theft and lying no crime-their detection no shame, but only a misfortune. If some flagrant public offence be committed, instead of aiding justice against the criminals, they are anxious to succour and to save them. They forget the offence, and their pity is roused for the unhappy circumstances of the offender, who has placed himself under the penalty of the law by the commission of some outrage, the cause and object of which are frequently wholly unassignable to any of the ordinary springs of human action. One is continually reminded by them of the force "Letters from the Irish Highlands," p. 117. and truth of the indignant remonstrance of very justly observed, in one of the letters the Roman lyrist "Quid leges sine moribus Yet with all their folly and laxity of principle, there is something in the character of the Irish peasantry singularly powerful in attracting and fixing the attachment of those of the better class of society, who will take the trouble of making themselves personally acquainted with their wants and wishes. Their patient endurance of privation, and of all the minor miseries of life, which after all make up the sum of human suffering; their shrewd lively sensibility, and the vehement eloquence of their expression of gratitude for the least kindness, at once excite our pity, and gratify a feeling of personal importance. That lurking pride of self-complacency, which renders those most dear to us, who have been most the objects of our protection and support, operates as a powerful incentive to unite us to a class of dependants, who show, both by word and action, that they have no reliance, save 66 on God and our grace;" and we have scarcely known an instance of a gentleman in Ireland residing on his estate, and really taking a lively interest in the wellbeing of his tenantry, who did not ultimately become the warm advocate of their cause against all who arraigned them as lawless, lazy, and immoral. Notwithstanding the extreme laxity of moral principle amongst the Irish peasantry, it is certainly true, that they abound in religious feeling; and in contrasting the characters of the English and Irish peasantry, it will be found, that the balance of good behaviour is not more in favour of the former, than that of religious sentiment is in favour of the latter. "There is, however, greater giddiness and unevenness of character amongst them than amongst the English. It is a common saying with themselves, that they are honest with good looking after. They do not scruple to tell lies to screen themselves, when they commit a fault, and when detected, to pass off the lie with a jest." Their patience under sufferings, and indolent submission to extreme privation, with the calm observation that "it is the will of God," is a point of character with which one feels it ungracious to find fault, and yet it is a positive defect, which is productive of very bad consequences. They neither use foresight to guard against misfortune as they ought, nor exertion to extricate themselves from it when it has arrived; and if we, who never mean profanely, may so speak, they trust too much to Providence. There are many in England who never think of the Irish peasantry but as a fierce turbulent race, ready at all times to snatch by violence whatever they can obtain to gratify the passion of the moment. They little know how much of quiet uncomplaining hardship they endure. It is, however, from the Irish Highlands, their supineness in health, and patience in sickness, arise from the same cause; and were they when in health of an active and industrious temper, and inclined to make the best of every thing their condition affords, they would be restless and uneasy under privations, and that very uneasiness would be a spur to their industry. These reflections were suggested to the writer of the letter to which we have alluded, by an individual case of a poor woman, whose sufferings and patience are very feelingly described, and whose pious gratitude upon receiving clothes for her children, affords a touching instance of the religious feeling which we have mentioned as universally pervading the lower ranks in Ireland. "I shall not easily forget," says the writer, "the expression in the poor woman's countenance after she had seen her little ones dressed in the clothes provided for them by English be. nevolence. I happened, unobserved, to see. her after she had left the house, kneeling down in the path, her children in each hand, her eyes raised to heaven, praying aloud." * It cannot be denied that this piety arises more from constitutional sensibility, than from knowledge and reflection, nor that it is mingled with much superstition and blind credulity; yet it is the evidence of a good natural disposition, and if that be ill directed, it should the more stimulate those who have the power, to endeavour to improve the people, and turn into its right channel those streams of feeling, which, according as they are well or ill directed, will fertilize or destroy the soil through which they flow. So much for the general character of Ireland and its inhabitants, upon whom, it is plain, we wish the world to look with some favour; O'Connell, and the Clare Election, and all the fooleries thereunto belonging, notwithstanding. ON A PICTURE OF HERO AND BY THOMAS HOOD. WHY, Lover, why Why, Lady, why Why, Cupid. why Why. Maiden, why When he's on the landing?—The Gem "Letters on the Real State of Ireland." NATURAL PHENOMENON. PLANE SURFACES NOT SEPARATED BY A TO PROF. SILLIMAN. Dear Sir-I beg leave to call your attention to a fact, for the explanation of which a gold medal and one hundred guineas were offered by the Royal Society. The experiment is this; cut from a card two pieces about two inches in diameter, let one of them be perforated in the centre, and let a common quill be introduced into the perforation, with one end even with the surface of the card-let the other piece of card be made a little convex, and lay its centre over the end of the quill, with the concave side of the card down-the centre of the upper card should be from to of an inch above the end of the quill. On attempting to blow off the upper card, by blowing through the quill, it will be found impossible. I prepared the pieces of card very carefully, according to direction, and to my astonishment, the upper card could not be blown off. on When the edges of the two pieces of card were made to fit each other very accurately, the upper card would be moved, and sometimes it would be thrown off, but when the edges of the card were two sides, sufficiently far apart to permit the current of air to escape, the loose card retained its position, when the current of air sent against it was strong, when it was inclined at every angle through 180 deg.; but when very little inclined, if the current of air ceased, the upper card would immediately fall. The experiment succeeds equally well, whether the current of air be made by the mouth, or from a bellows. When the tube fitted the perforation of the card rather loosely, a comparatively light puff of air would throw both cards three or four feet in height. When, from the humidity of the breath, the upper surface of the perforated card had a little expanded, and the two opposite sides were somewhat depressed, these depressed sides were distinctly seen to rise and approach the upper card directly in proportion to the force of the current of air. I have this moment discovered another fact with this simple apparatus, equally inexplicable with the former. Let the loose card be laid upon the hand with the concave side up-blow forcibly through the tube, and at the same time bring the two cards towards each other-when within of an inch, if the current of air be strong, the loose card will suddenly rise, and adhere to the perforated card. If the card through which the tube passes, have several perforations made in it, the loose card is instantly thrown off by a slight puff of air.-American Journal of Science. Explanation by Dr. Robert Hare.-The phenomenon above alluded to, is usually illustrated by means of two discs,* into the centre of one of which a tube is fastened, so that, on blowing through the tube, the current Under is arrested by the moveable disc. these circumstances the moveable disc is not removed as would be naturally expected. Supposing the diameter of the discs to be to that of the orifice as 8 to 1, the area of the former to the latter must be as 64 to 1. Hence, if the discs were to be separated (their surfaces remaining parallel) with a velocity as great as that of the blast, a column of air must meanwhile be interposed, sixty-four times greater than that which would escape from the tube during the interim. Consequently if all the air necessary to preserve the equilibrium be supplied from the tube, the discs must be separated with a velocity as much less than that of the blast, as the column required between them is greater than that yielded by the tube; and yet the air cannot be supplied from any other source, unless a deficit of pressure be created between the discs unfavourable to their separation. It follows then, that, under the circumstances in question, the discs cannot be made to move asunder with a velocity greater than 1-64 of that of the blast. Of course all the momentum of the ærial particles which constitute the current through the tube, will be expended on the moveable disc, and the thin ring of air which exists around the orifice between the discs; and since the moveable disc can only move with 1-64th of the velocity of the blast, the ring of air in the interstice must experience nearly all the momentum of the jet; and must be driven outwards, the blast following it in various currents, radiating from the common centre of the tube and discs. The effect of such currents in producing an afflux of the adjoining portions of any fluid in which they may be excited, is well known, having been successfully illustrated by Venturi.-See Nicholson's Journal, quarto, Vol. II. p. 172. LINEAMENTS OF LEANNESS. BY WILLIAM WADD, ESQ. F.L.S. (From the Quarterly Journal of Science.) Ir may naturally be supposed, from the cases and comments on corpulence, that the “fat The word disc is used by experimental philosophers, to signify any plane surface bounded by a circle, whether it be merely a superficies, or have a sensible thickness, as in the case of a wafer, or a piece of coin. |