houses; and about thirty-eight years ago that lamp was introduced in the Edystone, the North and South Forelands, and many other lights. The lamps were placed in the focus of a parabolic reflector of twenty-one inches diameter, plated with silver, which projects a cylinder of light with surprising intensity. At first, a lens of the same diameter as the reflector was placed opposite each light in the window of the lantern; but subsequent experience proved, that though in certain points of the horizon the light was more intense, yet it was less generally diffused, so that it often happened that a distant vessel, unless in the axis of a lens, did not see the light at all: the lenses have been therefore removed in all the light-houses for some years. In the Edystone there were twenty-four Argand lamps, disposed in three circles over each other, but at present there are only sixteen; one row having been removed, I rather think, merely on the score of economy.

The external stone-work of the Edystone is, generally, as perfect as when it was finished; and the cement which unites the stones, so far from exhibiting any marks of decay, actually stands forward beyond the surface of the stone, with a calcareous incrustation; and it is a remarkable circumstance, that, in the very few instances in which the persons intrusted with the care of the structure have had occasion to perform some trifling repairs, the Roman cement has been resorted to for the purpose, and found inferior in its adhesive powers to the cement originally employed by Smeaton. The lower part of the building is soovergrown with green slimy weed, that the base appears as if it were a continuation of the rock itself.

Having spent nearly an hour in conversing with the men who thus voluntarily give up all the advantages we hold most dear to this brief period of our existence, and doom themselves to a seclusion, than which human invention could not picture a more dreary punishment for an unhappy criminal, I left the house, not a little gratified that the weather had permitted me to inspect one of the most glorious achievements of ancient or modern architecture.

It is a singular coincidence but rarely found in art, that in the Edystone, the form which alone could ensure stability is at once the most beautiful that could have been imagined for such a structure. The curved outline, gracefully diminishing upwards, and surmounted by the curved cornice, produces an effect that it would have been in vain to attempt with the regularity of straight lines, and the usual routine of angular projections.

Many views have been given of this curious building; but too many of them have been little more than imitations of the frontispiece to Smeaton's work, which represents the morning after a storm, with the sea rising in a cone, and burying the lighthouse entirely within it. The print is so badly executed, that it almost stamps the mark of impossibility on a circumstance, in itself sufficiently extraordinary, if portrayed by the most careful observer of natural effects. It was, however, dictated by one who had seen more of the place than any person then or now living; and though the appearance of the sea may be as much like anything else as water, yet we are compelled to believe, from circumstances themselves, that the sea does occasionally mount as high as is there represented. The glass in the lantern, though strong plate, has been more than once broken by its assaults, and the inhabitants drenched by the water which entered in consequence.

The stability of this edifice naturally excites our admiration--but it

is a feeling not unmixed with awful reflection. Well might Smeaton say, that He only who first created the atoms, can ascertain what is the full extent of those powers that may possibly be combined towards the destruction of the mass.' True, he could submit to no calculation the powers against which he contended; but he did what human genius could perform, and his labor was not in vain. The building stands : long may it remain fast as the granite rock that bears it high above the flood !

IMPROVED RAW SUGAR.

'CONSIDERABLE interest has been excited in the market by the introduction of an improved native raw sugar, which portends very great advantages to all who are engaged in this so long unprofitable branch of colonial and commercial intercourse. It is pure raw sugar, obtained direct from the cane-juice, without any secondary process of decolorisation or solution, and by which all necessity for any subsequent process of refining is entirely obviated. It is obtained in perfect pure transparent granular crystals, being entirely free from any portion of uncrystallisable sugar or coloring matter, and is prepared by the improved process of effecting the last stages of concentration in vacuum, and at a temperature insufficient to produce any changes in its chemical composition; the mode of operation first proposed by the late Hon. Ed. Charles Howard, and subsequently introduced, with the most important advantages and complete success, into the principal sugar-refineries of Great Britain.

By this improved and scientific process of manufacture, the application of which to the purpose of preparing raw sugar from the cane-juice has now first been proposed, the most singular advantages are secured to the planter, in an increased quantity of sugar, the product of his operation, and in saving from the immense quantity of deteriorated material, uncrystallisable sugar and molasses which were products of the former mode of operation, from the intense and long-continued degree of heat employed in the processes. The time and labor of the operation are also greatly decreased; the apparatus possesses the power to make double the quantity in the same space of time as the old method, and this is ready for -shipment in four days, in lieu of three weeks, as heretofore. The sugar likewise readily commands an advanced price in the market to the planter of ten or twelve shillings per cwt.

This improved sugar readily ensures a preference for all purposes of manufactures, solution, or domestic economy. It is a purer -sweet, and of a richer mellifluous taste than even the best refined;

it is not apt to become ascescent in solution; and from its superior quality, it well answers all purposes of the table. In the manufacture of rum for the molasses, which are separated during the first process of the operation, there is no danger of deterioration in the production of empyreuma, and a far purer spirit is obtained than that made from ordinary molasses.

This improved process is now in complete and successful operation on eight estates in Demerara. The general introduction of the process is considered by the best practical judges to ensure certain means of revivifying the spoiled fortunes of the planters, and to open a new era in the prosperity of those portions of the British crown, of which this forms the principal staple commodity of support.'

With this communication we have received a small canister of the commodity referred to, which certainly recommends it strongly to our favorable report. It so nearly resembles pounded sugarcandy, that we should have taken it for that article in a very pure state, but for the accompanying explanation, and also, for a plan and description of the apparatus by which it is produced. We have seen nothing for a long time in trade more worthy of attention; and if it be substantiated that this improvement will tend to relieve the suffering interests of our West India colonies, it will indeed prove a national as well as a commercial benefit.

JOURNAL

OF

CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON, BY THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON. NO. 11.*

'I THOUGHT that I had answered your note. I ought, and beg you to excuse the omission. I should have called, but I thought my chance of finding you at home in the environs, greater than at the hotel.

*

*

*

I hope you will not take my not dining with you again after so many dinners, ill; but the truth is, that your banquets are too luxurious for my habits, and I feel the effect of them in this warm weather, for some time after. I am sure you will not be angry, since I have already more than sufficiently abused your hospitality.

*

*

I fear that I can hardly afford more than ten thousand francs for the steed in question, as I have to undergo considerable

expenses at this present time, and I suppose that will not suit you. I must not forget to pay my Irish Subscription. My remembrances to Miledi, and to Alfred, and Miss P. Ever yours,

" MY DEAR LORD,

'NOEL BYRON.'

'May 24th, 1823.

'I find that I was elected a Member of the Greek Committee in March, but did not receive the Chairman's notice till yesterday, and this by mere chance, and through a private hand. I am doing all I can to get away; and the Committee and my friends in England seem both to approve of my going up into Greece; but I meet here with obstacles, which have hampered and put me out of spirits, and still keep me in a vexatious state of uncertainty. I began bathing the other day, but the water was still chilly, and in diving for a Genoese lira in clear deep water, I imbibed so much water through my ears, as gave me a megrim in my head, which you will probably think a superfluous malady. 'Ever yours, obliged and truly,

'NOEL BYRON.'

In all his conversations relative to Lady Byron, and they are frequent, he declares that he is totally unconscious of the cause of her leaving him, but suspects that the illnatured interposition of Mrs. Charlemont led to it. It is a strange business! He declares that he left no means untried to effect a reconciliation, and always adds with bitterness,' A day will arrive when I shall be avenged. I feel that I shall not live long, and when the grave has closed over me, what must she feel?' All who wish well to Lady Byron must desire that she should not survive her husband, for the all-atoning grave that gives oblivion to the errors of the dead, clothes those of the living in such sombre colors to their own toolate awakened feelings, as to render them wretched for life, and more than avenges the real or imagined wrongs of those we have lost for

ever.

When Lord Byron was praising the mental and personal qualifications of Lady Byron, I asked him how all that he now said agreed with certain sarcasms supposed to bear a reference to her, in his works. He smiled, shook his head, and said they were meant to spite and vex her, when he was wounded and irritated at her refusing to receive or answer his letters; that he was not sincere in his implied censures, and that he was sorry he had written them; but notwithstanding this regret, and all his good resolutions to avoid similar sins, he might on renewed provocation recur to the same vengeance, though he allowed it was petty and unworthy of him. Lord Byron speaks of his sister, Mrs. Leigh, constantly, and always with strong expressions of affection; he says she is the most faultless person he ever knew, and that she was his only source of consolation in his troubles on the separation.

Byron is a great talker, his flippancy ceases in a tete-a-tete, and he

becomes sententious, abandoning himself to the subject and seeming to think aloud, though his language has the appearance of stiffness, and is quite opposed to the trifling chit-chat that he enters into when in general society. I attribute this to his having lived so much alone, as also to the desire he now professes of applying himself to prose writing. He affects a sort of Johnsonian tone, likes very much to be listened to, and seems to observe the effect he produces on his hearer. In mixed society his ambition is to appear the man of fashion, he adopts a light tone of badinage and persiflage that does not sit gracefully on him, but is always anxious to turn the subject to his own personal affairs, or feelings, which are either lamented with an air of melancholy, or dwelt on with playful ridicule, according to the humor he happens to be in.

A friend of ours, Colonel M—, having arrived at Genoa, spent much of his time with us. Lord Byron soon discovered this, and became shy, embarrassed in his manner, and out of humor. The first time I had an opportunity of speaking to him without witnesses was on the road to Nervi, on horseback, when he asked me, if I had not observed a great change in him. I allowed that I had, and asked him the cause; and he told me, that knowing Colonel M- to be a friend of Lady Byron's, and believing him to be an enemy of his, he expected that he would endeavor to influence us against him, and finally succeed in depriving him of our friendship; and that this was the cause of his altered manner. I endeavored, and at length succeeded, to convince him that Colonel M- was too good and honorable a man to do anything spiteful or ill-natured, and that he never spoke ill of him; which seemed to gratify him. He told me that Colonel M's sister was the intimate and confidential friend of Lady Byron, and that through this channel I might be of great use to him, if I would use my influence with Colonel M- to make his sister write to Lady Byron for a copy of her portrait, which he had long been most anxious to possess. Colonel M——, after much entreaty, consented to write to his sister on the subject, but on the express condition that Lord Byron should specify on paper his exact wishes; and I wrote to Lord Byron to this effect, to which letter I received the following answer. I ought to add, that in conversation I told Lord Byron, that it was reported that Lady Byron was in delicate health, and also that it was said she was apprehensive that he intended to claim his daughter, or to interfere in her education: he refers to this in the letter which I copy."

Talking of literary women, Lord Byron said that Madame de Staël was certainly the cleverest, though not the most agreeable woman he had ever known. She declaimed to you instead of conversing with you,' said he, never pausing except to take breath; and if during that interval a rejoinder was put in, it was evident, that she did not attend to it as she resumed the thread of her discourse as though it had not been interrupted.' This observation from Byron was amusing enough, as we had all made nearly the same observation on him, with the exception that he listened to, and noticed, any answer made to his reflections. 'Madame

* Here follow the letters in Moore's Journal, p. 644-6.