Chapter II: Part 2

These characteristics of everyday life and its doings are to a considerable extent applicable to most of the great towns of England; but we are treating them in special relation to the widely stretching and ever-growing metropolis. And this leads us to draw attention to a circumstance which renders shilling entertainments and amusements more and more accessible every year. In days which some among us will remember, London attractions were available to few except those who for the time sojourned within its limit. No suburban railway trains, few suburban omnibuses, and still fewer stage-coaches, there was a deficiency in the means for bringing the public to the central regions of the metropolis, and of taking them home again when the day's pleasuring was ended. It is not too much to say that, for all practical purposes of locomotion, Kensington and Westbourne, Kennington and Walworth, Hackney and Stepney, Holloway and Kilburn, were farther out of town then than Richmond and Croydon--nay, Windsor and Gravesend--are now. Saying nothing of omnibuses and cabs, we are within the truth in stating that a hundred railway stations are easily reached from the metropolis by trains starting at eleven or twelve o'clock at night at cheap fares. What is the consequence? The father of a family can arrange for wife and senior children (juniors of course included in the pantomime season) a visit from the near suburbs and the more distant environs, to places of interest in the metropolis; knowing that there will be the means of returning home after the enjoyments of the evening are ended. How this tells upon the shilling will be readily understood by those who know the prevalent prices of admission to public places.

May we not find a clue to the solution, at the Mint? We all know that it is more convenient to make our payments, so far as possible, in one coin than in two or more, let it be of gold, silver, or copper. Now, as a matter of ascertained fact, the Mint produces a larger number of shillings than of any other denomination of silver coin. For instance, in ten recent years, twenty-six million shillings were produced at the Mint, against seventeen million sixpences and nine million florins--the other silver coins being relatively few in number. Why it is that the Mint puts eighty-seven and a quarter grains of sterling silver into each and every shilling, and never deviates from that quantity (rigorously 87.27272 grains), we are not here called upon to inquire; but unquestionably the determination exerts some effect on prices, within the limit, at anyrate, of the matters discussed in the present article--intensified by the predominance of this particular kind of silver coin over others. If we were to abolish the shilling from our coinage, and to substitute the franc (worth about tenpence), there is much reason to believe that we should gradually change from 'Price One Shilling' to 'Price One Franc;' and the same with 'Admission' instead of 'Price.' Very likely we should receive less in quantity, less number or less dimensions, of articles or enjoyments included in each purchase; but this would be borne with more patience than a change in the opposite direction--in other words, it would be found more easy to adjust our dealings to the altered value of the coin, than to give the troublesome amount of one franc in silver _plus_ twopence in copper or bronze to make up a shillingworth; for a dislike to 'bother' is prevalent with most of us. But how about 'Admission One Franc?' Should we obtain only five-sixths as much instruction or amusement as we now obtain; and if so, in what manner would the curtailment be carried into effect? Would the shilling gallery, for instance, share in the enjoyment of less splendour and less fun when it became a franc gallery? Would a franc concert-caterer give a smaller number of songs, and the Polytechnic give fewer dissolving views and scientific lectures on each evening?

A subject of much solicitude to the financial and commercial world just at present may, for aught we can tell, be wrapped up in this very problem. The price or value of pure or bullion silver has fallen materially. The purchasing power of (say) an ounce of silver is less than it was a year ago, as compared with gold and with general commodities; and perchance the amount of 'value received' may have to be readjusted to our friend the shilling in some way not at present perceptible.

A question has been asked, What is the real or intrinsic value of a shilling? and a good question it is, like the late Sir Robert Peel's, 'What is a pound?' The matter seems simple, but it intimately involves many important considerations. So far as concerns the Mint, the government, or the state, the value of a shilling is honestly expressed; no profit is made on its manufacture; on the contrary, a certain sum has to be provided annually out of the general taxation of the country, to make up a small deficiency. The chemical and mechanical processes of coining cost so much, the unavoidable (though trifling) waste amounts to so much, the wear of the coin costs so much for recoining after a few years, and so much for putting in new silver to make up the deficiency from 'light weight;' and all these items swell the cost of the shilling to the Mint. If the coin were made much below its intrinsic value in pure silver, it would not pass on the continent; if above, it would be melted down as bullion; and thus the Mint or the state has many points to consider in the matter. A bronze penny pays its full expense of manufacture; a gold sovereign and a silver shilling do not. Whether, at the present time, when the Mint can buy silver bullion and old silver at a cheaper rate than was the case a few years ago, the silver coinage just now pays its own expenses, is a question on which possibly the Master of the Mint may have something to say in his next annual Report.

THE BIG TREES OF MARIPOSA.

M. le Baron De Hübner in his interesting work, _A Ramble Round the World_, gives an account of an excursion from San Francisco to the Yosemite Valley, in the Sierra Nevada, for the purpose of seeing what are known as the 'Big Trees of Mariposa.' It is a toilsome journey by stage-wagons with relays of horses, through a wild country, and the distance going and returning is four hundred and forty miles. The journey took place in June, when the weather was fine, as it generally is in California near the coast of the Pacific. At the _rancho_ or farm establishment of a hospitable planter, the wheeled carriages could go no farther, and the party were provided with little Indian horses, harnessed and saddled in the Mexican fashion, to complete the excursion. There were now, however, only a few miles to be travelled.

The Big Trees of Mariposa, which are reported to be the most gigantic trees in the world, were discovered as lately as 1855. The stories told of their gigantic dimensions seemed almost incredible. It was represented that they exceeded in height the tallest church steeples; were in fact as high as the top of St Paul's in London, and that is three hundred and fifty-six feet, reckoning from the marble floor to the cross. Another circumstance that seemed surprising was that these marvellously tall trees grew in a valley among mountains, at a height of eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. Such a circumstance in itself conveys an impressive idea of the magnificent climate in California, it being difficult in any part of England to grow trees successfully at a greater elevation than a thousand feet above sea-level, and seldom at that. Reaching the spot where the large trees grew, the Baron and his companions began to observe various trees fallen on account of age or the force of the winds, while at the same time infant trees were springing spontaneously up, and which, after growing for hundreds of years, will perish in their turn. Of the trees generally, the Baron says:

'The Big Trees of Mariposa well deserve their world-spread reputation. A law lately passed, and voted unanimously by the legislature, shelters them both from speculation and from the devastation of the mining companies. Unfortunately, however, it cannot protect them from the incendiary fires of the Indians. But none of these trees can be cut down. There are more than four hundred, which, thanks to their diameter of more than thirty feet, their circumference of upwards of ninety feet, and their height of more than three hundred feet, are honoured with the appellation of the Big Trees. Some of them have lost their crown and been in part destroyed by fire, that scourge of Californian forests. Others, overthrown by tempests, are lying prostrate on the soil, and are already covered with those parasitic creeping plants which are ever ready to crop up round these giant corpses. One of these huge hollow trunks makes a natural tunnel. We rode through it in all its length on horseback without lowering our heads. Another, still standing and green, enables a horseman to enter it, turn round, and go out of it by the same opening. These two trees form the great attraction of the tourists. Like the Russian pilgrims in Palestine who have bathed in the Jordan, the tourists, after having passed on horseback through the tunnelly trunk of one of these trees and the interior of the other, strong in the consciousness of having done their duty, think of nothing but instant departure. The greater part of these trees are marked by the inscriptions of different celebrated persons. One of them bears the name of Ferdinand de Lesseps.

'The Big Trees, with their smooth, dead-red trunks and short horizontal branches, are of a coniferous race, well known in Europe. One sees specimens in all our botanical gardens and in most of the "pinetums" of private persons. The first discoverer, an Englishman, gave them the name, which has stuck to them in Europe, of _Wellingtonia_. This name, which was offensive to the Americans, was changed by them into _Sequoia gigantea_, after an Indian chief of Pennsylvania, who distinguished himself by his kindness to the whites and by his civilised habits. These _Sequoias_ would have a far grander effect to the eye if they were isolated, instead of being crowded with other trees, many of which have attained to almost the same size. Without the help of a guide, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish them from one another. The great indefinable charm of this spot lies in the poetic beauty of the site and the extraordinary fecundity of nature.'

The _Wellingtonia gigantea_, or Mammoth pine, as it is sometimes called, is a tree perfectly hardy and of rapid growth. Its leaves resemble those of the _Arbor vitæ_. Introduced by seeds into Great Britain, it is grown successfully as an ornamental tree, though we have not yet had sufficient experience to say whether it will attain anything like the dimensions and height it does in California. We planted one in 1865, when it was about a foot high, and now it has attained a height of twelve to thirteen feet. It grows about a foot in the year. We watch its progress with considerable interest.

MRS PETRE.

IN TWO CHAPTERS.--CHAPTER II.

'Twelve hours afterwards Janet Heath was stunned and horrified to hear, from a strange source, that Mrs Petre was dead--had died in the middle of the night from an overdose of laudanum. Fortunately for Janet, the woman who lived next door to her cottage was possessed of great good sense; and when Janet rushed into her house wildly denouncing Mrs Danton, Mrs Dixon said: "Just have a care what you say; if her heart is anything like her face, you'll have a slippery customer to deal with in Mrs Danton. There'll be an inquiry, and plenty chance to speak then."

'But Janet, though cautioned, went straight up to Hilton Lodge, did not pause to be announced, but walking into the dining-room, faced Mrs Danton, who, with an air half-defiant, half-cringing, said: "This is a sad business; isn't it?"

"Sad?" cried Janet; "shameful. How did it happen? How could it have happened?"

"An overdose of laudanum," returned Mrs Danton.

"Laudanum!" exclaimed Janet, a new light flashing across her. "What was that the doctor said to you yesterday about the laudanum? I did not hear your answer."

"You were not meant to hear my answer," responded Mrs Danton, who bringing her evil face upon a level with Janet's, and tapping her sharply on the shoulder, added: "You don't come here to censure me." Her look was so terrible, Janet said she felt her knees tremble beneath her; she involuntarily turned away whilst Mrs Danton added: "It is not my wish that Mr Aubrey Stanmore should be made acquainted with this event. I will communicate with Mrs Petre's friends. I warn you of my severest displeasure and vengeance if you inform him."

'The words fell blankly upon Janet's ears; she simply left the room and made her way up to the drawing-room, where lay all that was mortal of her poor old friend.

'Meanwhile the authorities came upon the scene; and now I must endeavour to be very explicit. You know no body can be buried without a certificate from the doctor as to the cause of death; and on this occasion Mrs Danton knew a coroner's inquest would be absolutely necessary. But in the meantime a letter was speeding up to the Aubrey Stanmores, written in wild excitement by Janet, simply stating that Mrs Petre was dead; that they said it was from an overdose of laudanum taken by herself; but added Janet: "I was with her half an hour before she is said to have taken it, and I never saw her calmer or more sensible. Pray, do something!" concluded Janet, "for all is not right."

'Mr Stanmore's first step was to proceed at once to his solicitor, an extremely worthy man, who, on hearing the circumstances, at once consented to start for Lynton, whither he was accompanied by both Aubrey and his wife. They judged it prudent, after seeing Janet, to go direct to the doctor's house, in order to ascertain particulars from him, as, from Aubrey's position with his aunt, it was not quite easy for them to go direct to her house now she was dead, when she had not received them there during her lifetime. How vividly did Aubrey now recall his last interview with her, when Mrs Danton was absent; how he had knelt down by her side and beseeched her to send her off, and in her place to install the faithful Janet. "When Arthur Dumaresque comes home," had been her feeble promise; and now, how true his words to his wife and Janet had turned out: "That woman will never let my aunt live until Arthur Dumaresque comes home."

'This doctor whom they were about to visit was a new importation to Lynton. He had obtained a fair share of practice, but it was more than doubtful how long he would continue to retain it, for neither his manner nor his appearance was in his favour. However, the Stanmores and Mr Westmoreland the lawyer merely knew that he had attended Mrs Petre; and it was simply to hear his account of the melancholy affair that they troubled him with a visit.

'Much to their amazement, nothing could have been more brusque or discourteous than Dr Harper's manner. He received them in the most extraordinary way, and flatly refused to be, as he called it, "interrogated" as to the circumstances of Mrs Petre's death.

"Had you ordered the laudanum?" asked Mr Westmoreland.

"No; I had not," he answered. "I knew nothing about it till I was sent for, and told to bring the stomach-pump."

"And how had she taken it?" pursued Mr Westmoreland. "Who bought it? Where was it got?"

"I tell you I am not going to be questioned; the inquiry will give you all particulars;" and without even the civility of a bow to the Stanmores, he ushered them out of his room.

'The police-office was the next place to be visited. There every question was answered with alacrity and politeness, and the following particulars given by the constable whose duty it was to ascertain the facts where such occurrences took place. The inquiry, he told them, was fixed for the following day. The jury were all summoned; and the coroner, at some inconvenience to himself, had consented, in order to accommodate the relatives of the late Mrs Petre, to allow it to take place at the house.

'It appeared that Mrs Danton had lodged the following statement with the constable: About ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after Janet Heath had left, the drawing-room bell rang violently; the housemaid--the old woman I have described--went to answer it; but before she could get up-stairs it pealed again. Mrs Petre was sitting in her chair when she entered, and said: "Send Danton up to me."

'Danton--who always raged at this abbreviation--accordingly went up-stairs; and on getting into the drawing-room, Mrs Petre exclaimed, holding out a large bottle: "See what I have done! I have emptied this bottle of laudanum. What effect will it have?"

"It will make you drowsy; you must keep awake," replied Danton.

'It was a bottle capable of holding four ounces of laudanum, which, according to Mrs Danton's testimony, Mrs Petre had herself bought a few days before, for the purpose, it was supposed, of applying to her rheumatic limbs.

'Mrs Petre, whose horror of death was well known, at once exhibited the greatest alarm. "Send for the doctor--send for the doctor!" was her entreaty; and Mrs Danton sent the housemaid--the old woman who was supposed to wait on Mrs Petre--off in the carriage, which happened to be at the door then; not direct to Dr Harper's house, but to _another patient's_, "to see if he was there;" at that house the housemaid lingered, and it was not until fully three-quarters of an hour had elapsed that Dr Harper reached Hilton Lodge with the stomach-pump. For that three-quarters of an hour surely a strict account would be required at the inquest.

'Mrs Petre lingered on until the middle of the night, by which time several of Mrs Danton's own relatives had arrived upon the scene--notably one who volunteered the information that previous to the old lady's death she had stood in readiness, handkerchief in hand, ready to tie up the poor old face.

'However, to be as brief as possible. The Stanmores were so completely convinced that there had been foul play, that, by dint of strenuous exertions, they succeeded in persuading the coroner to defer the inquest until the Monday. Janet must be called as a witness; and Mr Stanmore, as the nearest relative, declared that he must identify the body. Accordingly, the constable who had previously arranged with Mrs Danton for the immediate inquest, proceeded to the house; now anxious to elicit further particulars, and also to intimate to her the postponement. He wanted the second bottle--for Mrs Danton had stated the laudanum had been purchased in separate ones. That was not forthcoming. It had been broken or mislaid; so only one--a good-sized one without any label--was handed over to him.

'Upon informing her of the new arrangement, Mrs Danton started violently, but recovering herself, said to a relation of her own, in a half aside, but quite audibly: "I know who is at the bottom of this, but I shall know what to do."

'The constable then left; and Mr Stanmore meanwhile was not idle as regarded efforts to collect all the evidence he could relative to his aunt's death. The case appeared a very clear one to him. Mrs Danton had, if not _all_ his aunt's bonds in her own name, at anyrate a sum of money in amount quite impossible to guess at. Mrs Petre had declared her intention to get rid of her, and Major Dumaresque was coming home shortly, when a proper account would no doubt be demanded; and with Mrs Petre's aid, all would have to be disgorged, and Mrs Danton would return to her old life of needy dependence, with only censure and disgrace attached to her. There was no lack of motive; and looking at the case in any light, nothing could seem more conclusive than it was.

'Monday soon came; and at eleven o'clock the coroner with his twelve jurymen assembled in the best parlour of the _Royal George_, amidst great excitement; the witnesses collected in an adjoining room; and after the body had been viewed by the jury and identified by Aubrey Stanmore, proceedings fairly began. It was a long low-roofed room, with a narrow table, at the head of which the coroner sat; close by him were the solicitors, one for the Stanmores, the other for Mrs Danton; on one side of the table were the jurymen; whilst at the end of it were standing a group of officials, a police inspector; and the summoning constable, whose duty it was to call the witnesses separately, and to hand them the Bible to kiss whilst the coroner rapidly read over the required oath.

'The Stanmores were in the waiting-room with Janet Heath, when in walked Mrs Danton, alone; her cadaverous face looking yellower and more repulsive than ever, her black eyes glancing from side to side, betraying a nervousness she evidently tried hard to conceal.

"Would she go out alone?" wondered Mrs Stanmore. "Would not the hand of the law be upon her, and the death of the poor old lady avenged?" Who could tell!

'But at last all was in readiness. Mrs Stanmore not being required as a witness, was ushered first into the room, and accommodated with a seat by the coroner. Aubrey was then called, merely to identify the body. It was that, of Mrs Petre his aunt. The last time he had seen her she was in good health. Her money matters were arranged by Mrs Danton, of whom she intended soon to get rid. And a host of other information quivered on his lips, when the coroner dismissed him.

'Then came the housemaid, Margaret Penn, who stated she was in Mrs Petre's service partly as nurse partly as housemaid. She knew Mrs Petre had bought the laudanum to rub her rheumatic limbs with. She had noticed Mrs Petre had taken a small quantity on the preceding night, and fearing danger, had carried the bottle down to Mrs Danton, who, uncorking and tasting it, had said: "Take it back and place it where you found it, so that Mrs Petre may not miss it;" accordingly she did so. She verified Mrs Danton's first statement to the constable, that soon after Janet's departure Mrs Petre's bell had rung twice; that on answering it, however, Mrs Petre had exhibited nothing unusual beyond a demand for "Danton." Danton had gone up, and soon afterwards called Margaret, telling her Mrs Petre had accidentally taken some laudanum, and desired her to go for the doctor. That was all she knew.

'The doctor's evidence was the next taken. He had merely attended Mrs Petre for a slight cold. He knew she had got some laudanum to rub her limbs with. She was an old lady, suffering from considerable depression of mind, and somewhat feeble in body. He had been called in to see her, having received a message to say she had taken an overdose of laudanum. He took the stomach-pump and applied it; but she was too far gone. No emetics had been administered previous to his arrival. The amount she had taken was not sufficient to act as its own emetic. She was slightly conscious when he saw her, and gave him to understand that she had herself taken the dose. He did all he could for her; he considered she had died from narcotic poisoning.

'Then came--not the person from whom Mrs Petre was supposed to have bought the laudanum--but the partner in the establishment, who, strange to say, read his evidence from a paper he produced; eliciting thereby a disapproving remark from several of the jurymen, who truly said where only truth was to be told, there was no occasion for written papers. It was merely to state that Mrs Petre, or a lady whom he understood to be Mrs Petre, bought the laudanum in two separate quantities at his establishment.

'Then came a surgeon who had made a postmortem examination. The deceased had died of narcotic poisoning. He went into various medical details of no interest, as the cause of death was clear; but one remark seemed to startle the jurymen, who listened with the most praiseworthy attention. The hands of the deceased were bruised and discoloured, and the little finger of the right hand blackened. This he accounted for by their having been "flecked" with a towel to try to keep deceased awake.

'Janet Heath was next called. Nothing in the world could have been more convincing or more conclusive than her evidence--the clear and artless manner in which she gave it--her open, honest grieved face, as she described her last interview with her mistress--detailing her own horror at hearing of the death, and depicting Mrs Petre's position with Danton; her penniless state; the neglect and unhappiness she suffered from, but how at length Mrs Petre seemed to have summoned up courage to dismiss her custodian, whose presence was anything but conducive to her comfort. She dwelt upon her last visit; upon Mrs Petre's remarks regarding Major Dumaresque's return; on her kindly mention of Mr and Mrs Aubrey Stanmore; in fact, nothing seemed wanting.

'Janet Heath was dismissed; and then came the witness, Mrs Selina Danton. A suppressed murmur ran round the room as she entered, ghastly pale, her great black eyes seeming almost to be starting out of her head; but she advanced boldly enough to the table--kissing the Holy Book audibly--took the oath, and amidst the profoundest silence, gave her evidence. She was a cousin of the deceased. She managed her affairs. Deceased was subject to fits of great depression. She was not quite unable to manage her money matters, but preferred deputing her to do so. Her will was in favour of Major Dumaresque. She had asked her for some money to buy the laudanum. She had given her three shillings. Margaret had mentioned she had touched the bottle; and she, the witness, had--never dreaming of the consequences--desired her to replace it.

"Did the witness think deceased had taken it accidentally, or did she think she had deliberately meant to destroy herself?"

'The witness answered that she most unhesitatingly, and before the corpse itself--a most unnecessary addition--could swear that deceased had deliberately taken the fatal draught, meaning to commit suicide. She then proceeded to state, that when deceased had first sent for her, she had said: "Danton, look here; I have taken all this;" pointing to the empty bottle. "_This_ will tell you why."--"Here is my proof," concluded Mrs Danton, as with a theatrical gesture she waved in her hand a letter, which she began to read, and which was to the effect that the writer, Mrs Petre, was dying; that her life had been a most unhappy one. A few sentences, a signature and date, with superscription--"The Last Words of Mrs Petre."

"Is that Mrs Petre's handwriting?" asked the coroner. "Can you identify it?" holding it towards Mr Stanmore.

"I think it is--I believe it is," he answered, gazing earnestly at it.

"You _know_ it is," almost shrieked Mrs Danton, glaring at him with the ferocity of a tigress.

"Silence--silence!" from the coroner.

'Aubrey's identification was enough for the coroner, who instantly, without any hesitation, proceeded to sum up for the jury, entirely in favour of Mrs Danton. The coroner's own mind was quite clear, and his bias equally obvious: the letter left not a shadow of doubt. The deliberation of the jury was brief, their verdict being, "Suicide whilst of unsound mind;" but they wished to be appended to their verdict a strong and severe censure upon Mrs Danton for not having removed the laudanum when she ought to have done it. The coroner, however, refused to append the censure, upon the plea that to do so would be equal to a criminal charge; and the proceedings terminated.

* * * * *

'Of course,' continued Mr Langley, 'none of us was satisfied; and the conviction is clear upon my mind that Mrs Petre was simply murdered. If the coroner had summoned his constable, and asked him what account, in the first instance, Mrs Danton had given of the death, the discrepancy would have instantly suggested itself to an intelligent jury; but it appears to me that an inquest is merely to discover the cause of death, not the motives and circumstances surrounding it, which a police investigation would inevitably elicit.'

'Then what is the use of a coroner's inquest?' I asked, rather bewildered.

'That is a question you must excuse my answering,' he replied. 'Until they are differently conducted, I consider them a mere farce; for in this instance, those few lines, which no one saw Mrs Petre write, might have been written by her or might not; no one knew. They did not allude to self-destruction; her own horror of death, and her anticipations of Major Dumaresque's return, combated the probability of her having voluntarily taken the dose. It is a mystery, and a mystery it is likely to remain; nor will it be the last, unless such occurrences are more closely inquired into.'

'And was the will wholly in Major Dumaresque's favour?' I asked. 'Did Danton benefit in no way pecuniarily by the death?'

'We thought not at first, for the will was wholly in Major Dumaresque's favour; but I had the curiosity to go and pay my shilling to see the document at Somerset House. It was written by Mrs Danton herself, and contained merely a vague bequeathment of all to the major, not stating any particulars. Mrs Danton had appointed herself co-executor with the major; it was witnessed by two servants; and the misspelt composition most tremulously signed by the poor old lady, whose pitiable condition at the time left her in no condition to be properly cognisant of her actions. My impression after reading it was, that there was far more than met the eye under Mrs Petre's death; but I know the Aubrey Stanmores did not gain much for their trouble, beyond the approbation of their conscience; for they found that right is not always might, and that justice is not always done, even when matters are investigated by the aid of a coroner's inquiry.

'And what has become of Mrs Danton?'

'As you may imagine, she soon left the neighbourhood; and Hilton Lodge has not had another tenant since the mystery of Mrs Petre's death, which no one considered solved or satisfactorily accounted for by the Coroner's Inquest.'

THE MONTH:

SCIENCE AND ARTS.

Why should London have a monopoly of the museums carried on at the public expense? is a question which has been frequently asked; and at a meeting held in Birmingham it was recently repeated with good show of argument by the mayors of some of our chief provincial towns. The importance of galleries and museums for educational purposes is admitted. Much of science and of the arts may be learned through the eyes. There is in the British Museum and other establishments in London, a surplus of articles that could be turned to good uses in museums in country towns; and so application is to be made to the Commissioners of the Exhibition of 1851, for portions of the large balance--seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds remaining in their hands. The whole of the kingdom contributed towards the success of that Exhibition, and may therefore claim to participate in the available profits. There is a good show of reason in this argument, which it is to be hoped will have due consideration. An additional point is, that a museum when once started has a tendency to grow; for there are many people possessed of objects of nature or art who are disposed to give or bequeath them to an institution where they will be taken care of and appreciated.

In looking back on the weather that darkened the closing weeks of last year and the opening weeks of the present year, the rainfall is seen as the conspicuous phenomenon. As is shewn by observations made at Greenwich Observatory and other places, eleven inches of rain fell in about eight weeks. The annual rainfall in eastern England is about 26 inches: thus nearly half the quantity that should have been spread over twelve months was poured down in two. Taking the month of December by itself, the rainfall was the greatest for any month during twenty years. In London the quantity registered was 6.25 inches; at Selborne (White's Selborne) it was 9.77 inches; at Skipton (Yorkshire), 10.53 inches; at Bodmin (Cornwall), 12.69 inches; and at Seathwaite, in the Lake country, a notoriously rainy district, the December rainfall was 18.31 inches. The reader may well exclaim 'Prodigious!'

But it is well to remember that in the first nine months of 1876 there was a large deficiency of rain; the quantity as measured at Greenwich Observatory was not more than 13¾ inches, being 4½ inches less than the average extending over a period of sixty-one years. The time of greatest deficiency was from April to August: hence it may be said that there were large arrears to make up; and the means have been supplied by an unusual, and as yet inexplicable, flow of warm water and warm air towards our coasts from the Atlantic.

The floods, though wide-spread and distressing, were not so deep as the floods of 1875. But in this particular there appears to be a want of accurate measures; and a proposition has been made that a combined system of flood-marks for the whole country should be established. With these once in place, each bearing its proper date, there would be no difficulty in comparing the height of successive inundations. Perhaps this and other questions may be left to the Meteorological Office, which in all probability will be much increased in efficiency during the present session of parliament. The Committee appointed to inquire into the working of that useful office have reported in favour of an extension of its usefulness, including the scientific as well as the economical aspects of the question.

According to Dr Gilbert, the amount of ammonia that comes down with rain and 'minor aqueous deposits' varies from six and a half to ten pounds per acre in Western Europe. If the amount is in proportion to the rainfall the coming season should be fruitful. In connection with all this it is worth remark that, so far as the returns are made up, the health of the nation was good in 1876. In the first quarter the death-rate was, omitting decimals, twenty-three per thousand, twenty in the second quarter, and nineteen in the third.

The Natural History Society of Montreal have published further particulars of the plague of locusts which in 1874 afflicted Manitoba and the North-west Territories. In that year the hungry swarms destroyed five million bushels of grain; in other words, they devoured the green plants that would have produced that quantity. This fact alone justifies the hostility with which the creatures are treated wherever they alight, and the endeavours made for their total extinction. According to Mr Dawson, a scientific observer, they consist of but a single species, _Caloptenus spretus_, having numerous parasitic enemies, besides birds, which devour them greedily. Their breeding-grounds are the vast unpeopled tracts between the one hundred and fourth and one hundred and eleventh meridians, and the forty-ninth to fifty-third parallels. Mr Dawson states that being on the high plains near White Mud River, he saw swarms of locusts on the wing 'at all altitudes, following no determinate direction, but sailing in circles, and crossing each other in flight. The greater number were hovering over the swamps or spots of luxuriant grass, or resting on the prairie. A slight breath of wind would induce them all to take wing, causing a noise like that of the distant sound of surf, or a gentle breeze among pine-trees. They appeared ill at ease, as if anxiously awaiting a favourable wind.' Their migration is not flight, for they have no intrinsic power of directing their course, but like a sailing-vessel, must depend on the wind for propulsion. Their fixed determination to travel in a certain direction, and the wonderful instinct which leads them to wait for a favourable wind, are pointed out by Mr Dawson as worthy of special remark. The favourable wind is of course that which blows towards the settlements and lands under cultivation. There is evidence that the young broods at times migrate from the settlements to the breeding-grounds of their parents: on which Mr Dawson says: 'It would be a fact surpassing in interest the journeys of birds of passage, if it should be found that the locust requires two generations to complete the normal cycle of its migration.' Evidently extirpation to be effectual must be on a great scale. One of the plans proposed is to prevent the burning of the prairies in the autumn, and to set them on fire in the spring, when the young locusts are hatched. Another plan is to suddenly burn a broad belt of country when it is known that swarms are approaching; but this applies only to the unsettled districts. Another is by planting of trees to create a rainfall and infuse damp into the climate: moisture being fatal to locust life. Coniferous trees especially appear to exert a protective effect. One of the districts of Manitoba has never been ravaged by locusts. It is separated by a belt of fir forest, which they have never been known to cross.

From a paper read before the Helvetic Society of Science at Basel we learn that the fever districts of Switzerland are the valley of the Rhone in its middle course between Martigny and Brieg, and some parts of the canton Tessin. Owing to the large extent of marshes in these districts, malaria and intermittent fevers and neuralgia prevail in the summer and autumn. The effect of town-life in promoting consumption is made evident by the fact that in Zurich the deaths from pulmonary phthisis are one hundred and four to the thousand, while in Zug they are not more than seventeen. Tillers of the ground have thus an important advantage over those who work in shops and factories. Consumption disappears with altitude, and dwellers on the mountains or in the upper valleys are free from it; but on the other hand they are very liable to inflammation of the respiratory organs. Deaf and dumb persons, in proportion to the population, are more numerous than in any other country of Europe. And lastly, we gather that 'alcoholism' is on the increase in Switzerland as well as elsewhere.

A communication to the Société de Médecine at Caen makes known that the natives in some parts of Egypt cure hydrophobia by administering a certain insect called _Darnah_. The insect is a species of _Mylabris_. To facilitate the swallowing, it is given to the patient inclosed in a ripe date.

A doctor in Paris has invented an apparatus which he calls a spirophore, to be employed for the relief of persons suffering from asphyxia or suffocation. It may be described as a chamber constructed of zinc: in this chamber the patient is placed, but his head remains outside. Air is then drawn from the chamber by a pump; the patient's lungs expand: air is then pumped into the cylinder, and the lungs contract; and this operation is continued at intervals until the patient recovers.

The account of an experiment with ozone may be interesting to non-professional readers: 'A piece of fresh beef was cut into two equal parts, one of which was placed in a stoppered bottle containing ordinary air, and the other in a similar bottle containing ozonised air. In five days the meat in the first bottle was in full putrefaction, while that in the second bottle containing ozonised air, was as fresh as when put in, nor was any change manifested on the tenth day, when the bottle was opened to see if the meat had any offensive odour. Although the stopper was then quickly replaced, putrefaction had commenced on the following day. Milk was kept in ozonised oxygen for eight days without undergoing any change.'

Professor O. Rood of New York states that in certain conditions of the eye, such as are produced by prolonged excitation, nervous derangement, or by effects of fever, the nerves which convey impressions of colour fail to act, and give rise to 'temporary green colour-blindness.' This is a fact which should be borne in mind by persons whose occupation requires them to distinguish colours.

The question of the effect of sun-spots on climate has been often discussed, but so many considerations are involved therein that many years must pass before it will be settled. In a paper published in the _Monthly Notices_ of the Astronomical Society, Professor Langley of Allegheny Observatory, Pennsylvania, after shewing the different points from which the question must be approached, states, as the result of his own investigations, that 'sun-spots do exercise a direct and real influence on terrestrial climates, by decreasing the mean temperature of this planet at their maximum. This decrease is, however, so minute, that it is doubtful whether it has been directly observed or discriminated from other changes. The whole effect is represented by a change in the mean temperature of our globe in eleven years not exceeding three-tenths, and not less than one-twentieth, of one degree of the Centigrade thermometer.'

Captain Watkin, R.A., has invented a range-finder, under different forms, for use in military and naval training and in time of war. If a hostile ship is approaching our coast or working her way into a harbour, it is important to know her exact distance, so that she may be hit by the heavy shot of the defensive battery. The range-finder, which is a combination of a telescope and a spirit-level, requires not more than eight seconds to indicate the distance in yards on a scale, and the guns can then be brought to bear with unerring accuracy. Should the ship be hidden by smoke, observers with an electric position-finder are stationed some way off, and make known her movements by telegraph, whereby the gunners can keep up their fire although they cannot see the enemy. This seems incredible; but the explanation is, that by means of charts ruled in squares, the position of a ship in any square or any part of a square can be identified, and aim taken accordingly. Another form of range-finder, of very simple construction, is intended for use on land. It is a japanned metal box ten inches by four, with a few holes in two sides, and one half of the top free to open by a hinge. Inside is an arrangement of mirrors, and a boxwood scale of yards from six hundred to four thousand. With this instrument and three staves, used in determining a base, one man by himself can ascertain the range of an object--a battery, a wood, a river, or a body of men, in three minutes; with two men it can be accomplished in one minute. Truly we may say that the art of killing becomes more and more scientific.

The Geological Survey Department in New Zealand has published a Report on the climate of that country extending over a series of years, and brought down to 1873. From this we gather that the rainfall of New Zealand presents some analogy with the rainfall of England in the difference of amount between the eastern and western coast. Taranaki, for example, on the west coast of the North Island, has an annual rainfall of more than sixty inches; while Napier, on the east coast, has about thirty inches. In the South Island, the yearly fall at Hokitika, on the west, is a hundred and twenty inches; while at Dunedin and Christchurch it is not more than one quarter or one-third of that quantity. The climate of Nelson is described as the 'most pleasant and finest in New Zealand, on account of its calm winter, the protection of its chains of mountains, and its clear sky, which is but rarely covered with clouds.' Yet Nelson is a rainy place: more than nine inches of rain have fallen there in a single day.

Owing to the peculiarities of climate, the glaciers on the west side of the New Zealand Alps descend very low, down to about seven hundred feet only above the level of the sea; and this is in the same geographical latitude as Leghorn. But different from the glaciers of Europe, the lower part of the New Zealand glaciers are decorated by pines, beeches, tree-ferns, and fuchsias in luxuriant growth.

From an accompanying Report on the minerals of the colony, we learn that more specimens of coal had been analysed than in any previous year, and that they 'represent an immense quantity of workable coal of excellent quality.' A splendid industrial prospect this for New Zealand.

The system of telegraph weather-signals has been adopted by the government of Canada; and storm warnings and other meteorological particulars are now regularly despatched to and from a number of stations in the Dominion three times a day. The central office is at Toronto, and thence the signals are telegraphed to Washington. A noonday time-gun is fired every day by electricity at Quebec, and for the benefit of ship-masters accurate time-signals are sent to the provincial outports: from all of which we see that Canada is co-operating praiseworthily in the grand meteorological and astronomical telegraph scheme.

The Hudson's Bay Company are taking measures for improving the navigation of the Saskatchewan and other waters in their great territory. The Red River and Lake Winnipeg are embraced in the scheme, which, when carried out, will open water communications to the base of the Rocky Mountains. The natural resources of those hitherto unfrequented regions are so great that any undertaking which promises to render them available should be encouraged. Their value will prove to be far beyond that of mere hunting-grounds, especially when the great thoroughfares cross them from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

Out of the proceeds of a munificent bequest, the Academy of Sciences at Turin have founded a biennial prize, to be given alternately to foreigners and to Italians. It is called the Bressa prize, from the name of the testator, a beneficent doctor of medicine; and the programme sets forth that 'the net interest of the first two years will be given to that person, of whatever nation or country he be, who shall have during the previous four years made the most important discovery, or published the most valuable work on Natural and Experimental Philosophy, Natural History, Mathematics, Chemistry, Physiology, and Pathology, as well as Geology, History, Geography, and Statistics.' The year 1879 is fixed for the award of the first prize, which will amount to twelve thousand francs, about four hundred and eighty pounds sterling. In 1881, Italians only will be allowed to compete, and so on every two years. With so wide a range of subjects, a crowd of competitors may be expected, and the difficulty of deciding on the best among so many will be exceedingly great.

CATS.

It is not often that we hear any credit rendered to the cat for either intelligence or affection; and it is therefore pleasing to be able to record two instances in which one, if not both of these qualities is shewn in a remarkable manner in this animal. A gentleman writing from India to a friend in England, a few mails ago, says of a pet Persian cat: 'I was lolling on the sofa, drowsily perusing the newspaper a few mornings ago, when Tom came and stood near me mewing in a plaintive way, as if to attract attention. Not wishing to be disturbed, I waved him off. He, however, returned in a minute or so, and this time jumped on to the sofa, and looking me in the face, renewed his noise more vigorously. Losing patience, I roughly drove him away. He then went to the door of an adjoining room, and stood there mewing most piteously. Fully aroused, I got up and went towards him. As I approached, he made for the further corner of the room, and began to shew fight, bristling up and flourishing his tail. It at once struck me that there was an unwelcome visitor in the room, which Tom wished to get rid of; and sure enough, in looking towards the corner, I discovered a cobra coiled up behind a boot-shelf under a dressing-table. The noise made by our approach aroused the snake, and he attempted to make off; but I despatched him with my gun, which was ready loaded close by. You should have seen Tom's satisfaction. He ran between my legs, rubbing himself against them caressingly, as if to say, "Well done, master!" The snake measured five feet seven inches in length.'

The friend to whom this incident is related, after reading it to me, went on to say, that some years ago, when in India with her father, the family were gathered after tea, one rainy evening, listening to one of their number who was reading an interesting story. While thus engaged, a cat of which her father was very fond jumped on to his knee, and moving about in a restless manner, began to mew in a louder key than usual. The old gentleman, as was his wont, commenced to caress the cat, expecting thereby to quiet it; but to no purpose. It shewed signs of impatience, by jumping down and up again, mewing vigorously the whole time. Not wishing to be interrupted in what was going on, he called for a servant to put the cat out of the room; but Puss would not tamely submit to an indignant turn-out, and commenced clawing at the old man's feet. This he thought was going too far: he rose to chastise the cat; but ere he had time to do so, he discovered that it was nothing less than a timely warning which Puss had given him; for not far from where he sat there was, under the table, a small venomous snake, which probably would have bitten him had he molested or trampled on it. The reptile was immediately killed; and Puss ceased her mewing.

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