Chapter II: Part 2

'Am I sure, Lilian! Do you too require an assurance that I am not likely to become jealous of Mrs Trafford! You are almost as bad as Philip, and that is saying a great deal. Why, Lilian, what _is_ the matter?'

She was laughing and crying together, with her arms about me, as different from her usual self as it was possible to be.

'It's the--the heat, I think,' she murmured. 'Do not notice me. I am stupid to-night, Mary.'

'She has deceived herself; her love for Arthur Trafford is not yet dead; and she is suffering the shame which is natural to one of her nature at the discovery,' I thought. Inexpressibly pained, I silently drew her hand under my arm and led her into the cottage.

LAMPREYS.

Almost every schoolboy knows that King Henry I. died from eating too plentifully of lampreys, a 'food,' says Hume, 'which always agreed better with his palate than his constitution;' and yet, comparatively speaking, how few persons are familiar with the form, habits, and uses of the lamprey itself. It is usually defined as an 'eel-like fish,' and so far the definition is a correct one, seeing that an ordinary observer would conclude that the lamprey and the eel are identical, or at the most, that they are species of the same genus. Such, however, would be an erroneous conclusion. The lamprey undergoes a peculiar change of colour, being at times scarcely visible in the water, with variations from a silvery hue to a dark-brown back and a white belly. The eel has a bony skeleton, but that of the lamprey is soft and imperfect. The former has teeth with which to seize its prey or take a bait; the latter, as its name indicates (_lambere_, to lick, and _petra_, a stone), has a round sucking mouth with which to attach itself to rocks or stones, and though provided with very small teeth, which can pierce the skin of fishes or other soft substances, it may be said to subsist by suction rather than by eating. It has an elongated dorsal fin extending along the posterior half of the body to the tip of the tail, but is destitute of the pectorals with which the eel is furnished. The breathing organs of the lamprey are peculiar. In fishes with a bony skeleton there is usually but a single large orifice on each side of the throat, and in which the gills are covered with a valve-like flap called the operculum. The lamprey has seven external orifices like a row of round button-holes for breathing on each side, and apparently, without any protection. The animal is therefore quite distinct from all the species of eels.

Lampreys are in season from the first of September to the end of February, and during that period they are taken in large quantities in the river Ouse, above its confluence with the Trent. By some persons its flesh is esteemed a great delicacy, either potted or made into pies. However, it must be eaten sparingly, for if indulged in too freely it is apt to induce colic of a serious character. On that account the majority of people do not care to expose themselves to the danger that may ensue. The fishermen, as well as the peasantry in the neighbourhood where the lampreys are taken, rarely use them as an article of food. Still they form an important commodity of traffic to those who are engaged in it. During the last season nearly twenty thousand were secured at Naburn Lock alone, which is situated a few miles below the city of York. There are other stations at which we may conclude that the 'take' is equally good; let us say six: which would make a total of one hundred and twenty thousand fish. The average length of the lamprey is a foot--though it sometimes grows to three feet--and six are reckoned a pound; which, sold at two shillings, will produce a revenue of two thousand pounds sterling.

When we consider that these fish are taken in the dull portion of the year, when salmon and many other fish are not in season, we may readily understand that the sale of lampreys forms no insignificant supplement to the income of river fishermen, whose works are carried on generally on a somewhat limited scale.

In March these fish go up the stream in order to deposit their spawn in the shallows. In early summer the parent lampreys and their countless fry go down towards the brackish water; and the opinion long prevailed that the elders of the company never returned. That supposition is now disputed by the more observant of the fishermen, who believe in the coming of the old and young together, though no great difference in their size is apparent towards the month of September, when the season for catching them is recommenced. They are taken in wicker traps, which are constructed so as to secure the fish as they are washed in by the force of the current.

In Holland the lamprey is largely used as an article of bait. From a very early period it is said to have been the prime favourite for the purpose, and considerable quantities were brought from the English rivers to Rotterdam. Our informant says that the trade was suddenly brought to an end about a hundred years ago on account of the 'war' (declared by Great Britain against Holland in 1780). For nearly eighty years from that period the lamprey-fishing was almost abandoned, when some Dutchmen, influenced by a tradition which still lingered amongst their people to the effect that excellent bait had formerly been brought from England, made a voyage of discovery to the Ouse, where, after considerable inquiry and search, they discovered what had been described, and thus revived the trade in lampreys, which is now carried on more briskly than ever. They are taken away in barrels partially filled with water, transferred to tanks on board ship, and are thus preserved alive until required on the Dogger Bank or elsewhere.

THE DUKE'S PIPER:

A STORY OF THE WEST HIGHLANDS.

IN FOUR CHAPTERS.--CHAPTER IV.

For a week Maggie saw nothing and heard nothing of Angus. She became quite pale and worn with anxiety and distress. She hardly spoke to her father; and Janet reported that she was sure 'the mistress' was going into 'a decline,' because she hardly touched her food. To make matters worse, a letter came one day from her lover to say that he too was so miserable that he could bear it no longer; he was going to leave the Duke's yacht and go away--never more to return to Inversnow. Maggie was driven to the brink of despair by this letter--almost the only letter she had ever received in her life, and she forthwith wore it with the lock of his hair she had long treasured, next to her heart.

One afternoon a message came from the kitchen of the castle to ask the piper if he could oblige the cook with a dozen or so new-laid eggs, the cook's store having run short. Maggie took her basket, and went with the eggs to the castle kitchen. She went with a sad heavy heart, and remained as short a time as possible, for her little romance with Angus and its sudden collapse were well known among the servants and, as she knew, discussed. Inversnow Castle stands in the midst of its own lovely park, close by the sea-loch, and girt about by wooded and heather-mantled hills. It was a warm sunny afternoon as Maggie tripped from the castle homeward; she was in no mood to meet any one; and to avoid doing so, she struck off the public path through the woods towards Glen Heath. A robin was piping pathetically among the elms, and the squirrels were gamboling in the sunshine among the branches overhead. As she walked slowly over the turf she drew forth Angus's letter to read once more, and as she read, the tears started afresh to her young eyes, and she sobbed as she went.

Presently she was surprised by a voice, a kind gentle voice, addressing her in a familiar tone: 'Well, Maggie Cameron, what may all these tears be about? You look sadder than a young and bonnie lass like you has any right to be, surely! Are you well enough?'

The girl looked and looked again, and the flush came and went in her cheeks as she became conscious that, stretched at full length on the grass close by, under the shade of an elm, with a book in one hand and a lighted cigar in the other, was--the Duke!

Maggie courtesied low with a natural politeness, and in her confusion dropped her letter, but hardly dared to stoop to pick it up.

'I'm sure, Your Grace, I peg your pardon humbly; it wass a great liberty I will be takin' in coming home this way instead o' the road.'

Maggie hardly knew whether to turn back or to go on; being undecided, she did neither, but stood still in some bewilderment, the letter still lying at her feet.

'But you have not answered my question, I think,' said the Duke encouragingly.

'I peg Your Grace's pardon again,' replied the girl nervously; 'but it wass--it wass--but it wass Angus'---- And there she stopped abruptly, and fairly broke down.

'Come here, my child,' said the Duke, interested in the girl's manifest grief. 'And what about Angus? Tell me all about it. Who knows, I may be able to help you?'

The Highland maid looked into the thoughtful kind face of the Duke, and went a few steps towards him.

'It wass apoot Angus MacTavish, Your Grace, and he wass---- But Your Grace will not know anything at all, at all apoot Angus.'

'Do you mean the game-keeper's son, one of my crew, Maggie?'

'Ay, Your Grace, that same!' said she with delighted eagerness.

'Oh, _he's_ at the root of your distress, the rascal, is he?'

'And inteed no, Your Grace; it wass not him at all; he wad not hurt nopody's feelings whatefer; oh, inteed, he's as cood and--and as prave a lad as iss in all the Hielants mirofer; and it iss not him, Your Grace, but my father and his father too had some quarrel; not but that they are cood men, poth cood men neither; but it wass all on account o' a gless o' pad whusky or the like o' that, I think; but--but--oh, Your Grace, Angus is going away cass my father has taken a hatred of him, and won't hef a word that iss cood to say to him; and if Angus goes away, it wad preak my heart!'

The Duke rose, leaving his book on the grass, and placing his hand kindly on the maiden's shoulder, said: 'Come, Maggie, this may not be so bad as it seems! We shall see what we can do. Dry your eyes, child. Angus can't go away from my yacht without my consent, and I shall take care that he shall not go away. Take comfort from that. We shall see what can be done.'

'Oh, but my father iss fery obstinate, Your Grace, fery! And he wants me to marry another man that I cannot bear to look at.--But I am troubling Your Grace.'

The Duke's sympathy had wonderfully dispelled Maggie's awe.

'Well, well,' said the kindly nobleman, 'pick up your letter. If the piper won't listen to reason, we must see what can be done without him. But your father is a sensible man, and will no doubt listen to reason. Good-bye! Remember there must be no more crying. And you don't think it will be hard to bring Angus to reason? Well, well, we shall see. But remember, not another tear all the way home!'

Encouraged by the words of the great Highland Chief, Maggie courtesied low again, and sped homeward, with a burden lifted from her heart.

* * * * *

Angus MacTavish astonished the village watchmaker and jeweller by walking into his shop towards gloaming one evening, shutting the door carefully behind him, and even turning the key in the lock when he had satisfied himself there was no one present except the big-browed, hump-backed little watchmaker behind his glass cases.

'And iss it yourself, Angus MacTavish?'

'O ay, it iss me.' Angus was examining, with a deep flush on his face, the case of ornaments in front of him.

'And what iss it that I can pe dooing for ye, Angus, the nicht?'

'Oh, it wass only a'--Angus coughed--'it wass a ring--a gold ring that I wad be wanting ye to shew me mirofer.'

'Oho! that wass it, wass it?' said Mr Steven, winking at Angus, as he took his horn magnifying lens from his eye, and came from his three-legged stool and marvellous assortment of tiny hammers, pincers, and watchmaking gear scattered on the bench before him, to speak with Angus at the counter.

'Wass it a shentleman's ring now, Maister MacTavish, or a ring for the lass?'

'What wad the like o' me pe doing with a shentleman's ring, Mr Steven? Do ye take me for a wheeper-snapper lawyer's clerk, that ye should think o' me in that way?'

'Weel, weel, Angus lad, ye may pe right; but a' the lads wear them nooadays. Nae doot it iss ignorant vanity; but it is cood for trade, and it iss no for me to be finding fault wi' my customers. And it wass a ring for the lass--eh weel, that iss cood too,' said Mr Steven, pulling out a drawer full of subdivisions glistening with Scotch pebbles of many varieties set in gold, and placing them before Angus. 'Noo, there iss one that wad mak' any bonny lassie's mouth watter, and it iss only twelfe-an'-sixpence; and if ye like, I hef got a pair o' ponny ear-rinks to match it--the whole lot for a pound.'

'Na,' said Angus, pushing aside the gaudy stone; 'it iss a plain gold ring I want, wi' no rubbishing stones apoot it.'

'Eh, what, Angus! And iss it a mairriage ring that ye wull pe wanting me to gif you mirofer? Eh weel! but that iss a fery different tale from what I hef peen hearing--and it wass a mairriage ring--eh dear me! But it iss myself that is happy to hear it.'

'Hush-t!' said Angus sharply, reddening. 'A man may want to hef a wedding-ring apoot him--maype for a friend or the like o' that--without his--his'---- Angus coughed a retreat.

'O ay, ay; surely, Angus, surely. Nae doot apoot it; ay, ay, lad--nae doot apoot it!'

Angus left the shop with a circlet of gold in his waistcoat pocket.

* * * * *

Meantime, although almost a fortnight had passed, the piper's lawsuit hung in the wind, despite the fact that his legal adviser felt it to be his duty to hold frequent and prolonged conferences with him at Glen Heath. The lawyer was not such genial company as Angus had been; and though he did his best to be agreeable to Maggie and sociable with her father, even to the extent of trying to learn the bagpipes, he had to lay the unmanageable instrument aside, under the piper's sweeping generalisation, 'that lawyers had no more ear for music than the pigs.' In his heart the piper was not sorry to see that his daughter snubbed Angus's rival in spite of his own strictest commands.

The Highland maid seemed to be bearing her lover's banishment better than was to be expected. More than one attempt had been made by the young sailor to mollify Mr Cameron, without palpable signs of success; and when Maggie renewed her protests, she was met with the announcement that if MacTavish's name was again mentioned to him, she would be sent off to her aunt's in Glasgow for the winter--a threat the full significance of which none knew better than Maggie herself.

Then it was announced that on a certain evening there was to be a supper given by the Duke in the barn of the Home Farm, to which all the servants and many of the tenantry were invited; and to the piper it was intimated that he would be expected to bring his bagpipes with him. Here was quite sufficient reason for Maggie to be wearing her eyes out with the preparation of feminine finery, as the piper observed she had been doing for several days.

Early in the morning after Angus's interview with Mr Steven the watchmaker--and it was a lovely autumn morning--the piper's daughter might have been seen walking briskly, perhaps somewhat paler than usual, through a meadow at the western side of Inversnow, towards the loch. Her heart beat quickly as she went, and there was a touch of anxiety in her face as she glanced back occasionally to the white cottage on the slope at the entrance of Glen Heath, as if she expected to see some one following her. She walked quickly on, brushing aside the dew with her dress as she went, and hardly paused until she reached a sheltered inlet of the loch. At some little distance from the beach, a boat--Maggie's own boat--was resting on the water, and the maiden had barely time to spread her white kerchief to the wind, when the oars were swiftly dipped, and almost immediately the bow of the boat ran high on the beach, grating along the pebbles almost to her feet, and Angus leaped out and held her in his arms.

'O Angus, dear, I don't think I can possibly go through with it--I really don't think I can!' she murmured.

'Ye are too late now, my bonny doo' [dove], 'too late now.'

Maggie stepped with Angus's help into the boat, although she did not think she could 'go through with it.'

'But if dad should come back and miss me--O Angus!'

'He will not come back. The Teuk--Cott pless him!--has sent him to the Duaghn ruins with a party from the castle. Look, Maggie! do ye see the flag--the Teuk's flag--on the mainmast o' the yacht?'

Angus rowed swiftly, without swerving, to the yacht. Not another word was said as Maggie ascended the ladder from the boat, accompanied by Angus. She was rosy as she noticed the universal grin that greeted her from the men as she walked along the deck, between the good-natured captain and Angus, straight to the cabin. In the cabin--a room with its gold and crimson, and carved wood-work, its luxurious carpets and pictures, its books and piano, and the sweet glimpse of loch and mountain visible from the wide-open ports, that made Maggie feel as if she had been introduced to a nook in Paradise--she was overwhelmed to find herself again face to face with the Duke! With the Duke was her old friend Mr Fraser, the parish minister of Inversnow, whose presence had a wonderfully inspiring influence as he shook hands with her. Mr Fraser was a little gentleman with the whitest of hair and the sharpest yet the kindest of eyes. 'Are you quite certain, Maggie,' he said, handing his open snuff-box to the Duke, smiling, 'that now at the last moment you do not repent?'

'We can land you again in a twinkling, you know--can't we, Angus?' said the Duke, looking slyly from one to the other. Angus was standing in the background, rather sheepishly, if the truth were told, cap in hand. Maggie had hardly time to assure 'the minister' that she would be the last to disappoint His Grace the Duke, and was quite certain, when a door at the other end of a cabin opened, and the Duke's daughter, Lady Flora, entered; and again the Highland maid courtesied, overwhelmed with blushes as her Ladyship shook hands with her.

'We shall hear by-and-by what the piper has to say to this,' said Lady Flora; 'but you, Maggie, had better come with me for a time, that all may be done in good order.'

And so Maggie was carried off by the Duke's daughter to a second nook of paradise in blue velvet and gold and mirrors, a fairy cabin redolent with the perfume of flowers, and with a glorious peep of loch and mountain from a different point of view. The girl felt as if she were moving and talking in a dream.

When she emerged with Lady Flora she was clad in simple white attire, veiled, and a spray of heather-blossom mingling in her hair. Was it still a dream?--the minister with an open Bible before him, and Angus waiting to take her by the hand!

'Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?' &c.--the magic words that have sent a thrill through the hearts of so many generations, were sounding in their ears too. And as for Angus--well, Angus was conscious, as he placed the ring on Maggie's finger, that he was drifting away into a dreamy world of happiness, far better than he deserved, or ever, in his most ardent moments, dreamed were in store for him!

* * * * *

The piper returned with the party that had been committed to his guidance towards set of sun, and reached Glen Heath hungry as Esau from the field; he was impatient to be at the Home Farm barn, where he and his bagpipes were already due. So hungry and impatient was he that he did not cross-examine Janet with that severity which generally characterised him as she--well primed in her part--explained that Maggie had already started for the ball. No; the piper was speedily girding himself, in the merriest possible frame of mind, in his best, and smiling as he observed that Maggie had for the occasion adorned his bagpipes with new ribbons. The piper was no fop; but it was rumoured that the Duke himself was about to lead off the ball to-night, and that some of the ladies from the castle were to be present; so it behoved him to appear in his best tartan, which he did; and a finer specimen of the clan Cameron, firm on his legs, with a head set strongly on a pair of broad shoulders that proudly bore the bagpipes, never led clan to battle-field.

With all his haste, he was late. Many of the company were already seated at the long tables that extended from one end of the barn to the other. People were shaking hands and chatting freely, and already there was the fragrant odour of cooked meats, tempting the appetites of all and sundry. The room was gaily lit with candles and lamps from the castle. The piper lifted his cap politely in acknowledgment of the applause that greeted him as he entered.

'This is your place, Mr Cameron,' said the Duke's factor, who acted as steward for the occasion, pointing a place near the head of the table, and immediately opposite Mr MacTavish and his wife; the former of whom frowned blackly as the piper looked across at him.

'Na, Mr Reid, na; not just yet,' the piper said rising.

'A tune, Mr Cameron, a tune!' came from several quarters of the room; a request which the piper was pleased and proud to comply with. Nor did the music cease until the door opened, and the Duke walked in, Lady Flora leaning on his arm, and behind him Mr Fraser, leading in the mild-eyed Duchess; and behind these several of the Duke's guests. The bagpipes came to abrupt silence as the company rose to cheer the ducal party. When Mr Fraser had asked a blessing on the mercies which the Duke had provided for them, there came a loud clatter of knives and forks and an assault upon the dishes; and talk and laughter and merry din. The piper forgot the game-keeper in the absorbing fact that he was seated between Lady Flora and Factor Reid, an unusual and unexpected honour; so absorbed, that he hardly noticed that his daughter Maggie had not up to this moment appeared in the room.

When the dishes were cleared away and glasses and decanters stood regiment-wise along the table, the Chief rose and, when silence prevailed, said: 'My very good friends, before I ask you to fill bumpers for _the_ toast of this evening, the nature of which I shall be called upon to explain presently--I wish you all to join with me in a glass to two very worthy friends of mine, and esteemed acquaintances of all of you; whose good qualities are too well known to require any words from me to commend them to your favourable notice--I mean our excellent friend Mr Cameron of Glen Heath, and my no less esteemed friend Mr MacTavish of Glen Ford--and may they never be worse friends than I am sure in their hearts they are to-night!'

There was a general clinking of glasses and nodding of heads towards the piper and the game-keeper: 'Your health, Mr Cameron!' 'I look towarts ye, Mr MacTavish!' 'Your fery cood healths, shentlemen!' &c.

It need hardly be said that Mr Cameron and Mr MacTavish looked extremely foolish as the sounds gradually passed into silence, and all eyes became fixed on them; but neither of them seemed disposed to rise. At length the piper sprang to his feet.

'It wass a great honour that His Grace paid me, and I thank him for it with all my heart. And it wass--well it wass, ladies and shentlemens--well, ye may hef heard mirofer that there wass a small wee bit of a tifference--inteed ye might call it a quarrel between Mister MacTavish and me, and it wass a pity too whatefer--nae doot there might be faults on poth sides--and Your Grace, if ye will allow me to say it--I pear no enmity to no man this nicht, no not to Mister MacTavish, nor to any other shentleman at all, at all.'

'Bravo! bravo!' exclaimed the Duke, looking towards Mr MacTavish. But that worthy had no gift of words, and only signified his emotion by a series of dry-lipped jerks and nods and a waving of the hands in the piper's direction, meant to imply his general assent to the piper's view of the case.

The Duke again rose. 'I now rise to ask you, every one of you, Mr Cameron and Mr MacTavish included, to fill your glasses a good bumper, to drink with me _the_ toast of this evening. I drink to the very good health of the bride and bridegroom in whose honour this ball is given to-night.' At the same moment the door opened, and Angus MacTavish entered with Maggie Cameron--no longer Cameron--leaning on his arm. Maggie looked round the room in some bewilderment. When her eye met her father's, her hand dropped from Angus's arm, and with her face all pale, she walked firmly toward him. When she came to him, she stopped.

'Dad!'--with quivering lip and with eyes in which lurked tears--'iss it angry with me ye are then, dad, cass I hef married Angus MacTavish? O dad, ye'll no pe that angry!'

The piper, conscious of the dramatic possibilities of the situation, paused, looked at the Highland Chief, who was still on his feet, and then at Maggie's sweet fresh face, which was turned piteously to him. He looked at the white muslin dress, prettily studded over with satin bows, and from there to the dainty white satin boot that peeped from below the dress, and felt proud to be his daughter's father.

'And iss it merrit ye are then, Maggie, to Angus MacTavish? but it iss--well, it iss a praw lad too, and well deservin' a praw lass for his wife'----

Maggie's arms were immediately thrown about her father's neck, and the welled-up tears found easy channel.

'Gif me your hand, Angus, ye pla-guard!' The hands griped with Celtic impetuosity.

'Excuse me, Mr Cameron,' interrupted the Duke. 'Ladies and gentlemen, we must drink the young couple's health with full Highland honours; and no heel-taps!' The rafters rung with hearty cheers as the men stood with one foot on their seats and the other on the edge of the table, doing honour to the Chief's bidding to youth and beauty.

This ceremony over, the piper rose, walked slowly and solemnly, amidst the silence of the company, to the place where Mr MacTavish sat. Mr MacTavish rose, and the men faced each other.

'Tonald!' said the piper impressively.

'John!' said the game-keeper. A pause.

'It wass an angry man I wass, Tonald!'

'And so wass I neither,' said the game-keeper.

'But we wull droon it all in this, John,' said the piper, filling two glasses with whisky, and handing one to his friend.

'But the oil-cake nefer wass biled!' said Donald solemnly, as he poised his glass between him and the light.

'Teffle take the oil-cake, John!' said the piper impetuously. 'Gif me your hand, man!'

And the reconciliation was complete.

The tables were speedily cleared away, the piper soon discoursing stirring music from his pipes; with the satisfaction of seeing the Duke lead off his beaming child as partner in the first reel. Daylight peeped in before the pipes were quieted, or the noise and merriment of the company were hushed.

* * * * *

And now, before the door of a cottage that has been built within a short distance of the piper's, there are to be seen three fine boys and a 'sonsie' lassie, the eldest rejoicing in having a Duke for godfather; and a proud man is the piper as he teaches Archie the oldest boy how to extract martial music from a sheep's bladder, which the ingenious youth has converted with skill into home-made bagpipes. To this day, the piper, on whom years are beginning to tell their pathetic tale, meets his friend the game-keeper once or twice a week at Mrs MacDonald's clachan among the hills, and the toast which always furnishes an excuse for the one extra glass that the piper thinks needful to send him cheerily on his way home is--'Cott pless the Teuk!'

THE MONTH:

SCIENCE AND ARTS.

We often read in the newspapers that a certain ship has been taken out to the 'measured mile' for trial of her speed, which means that, in order to try the steam-engines, they must be put into the ship, and the ship into the water. Like much else in English practice, it is an uncertain way of finding out that which ought to be previously known; for it is a trial of more than the engines, seeing that it includes the merits and defects of the boilers and of the ship, and the behaviour of the steam, which exercise an important influence on the result. If, therefore, the engines only are to be tested, the trial might as well be made while the vessel is still in dock; and while still in dock there should be some means for ascertaining and accurately indicating their capabilities. This means has been invented by Mr Froude, F.R.S., who has already done so much for the science of shipbuilding; and his new dynamometer seems likely to fulfil the intended purpose. It combines some of the most recondite principles in mechanical philosophy, but may be roughly described as a turbine with its segmental divisions so constructed that, when set rotating, the water inclosed is urged into a state of resistance. This resistance varies with the speed and power of the engines; and a spring lever, communicating with the interior of the apparatus, indicates the variations on an external scale. The turbine will be temporarily fixed to the end of the screw-shaft, the engines will be set to work, and as the shaft spins round, the power of the engines will be clearly and independently demonstrated, even up to eight thousand horse-power, if required. The capabilities of the engines having been thus accurately ascertained while the ship is still in dock, it will be possible, when trying her over the measured mile, to define how far her speed is affected by other influences, in summing up the result. A working model of this ingenious invention has been exhibited to the Admiralty and at scientific gatherings in London.

Mr Cochot, 34 Avenue Lacuée, Paris, has constructed a small steam-engine of half a horse-power, for use in petty manufactures, which, as he states, will work ten hours at a cost of not more than fourteenpence for coal.

Mr Redier, clockmaker of Paris, has exhibited to the Société d'Encouragement pour l'Industrie Nationale a balance which registers variations of weight. In this ingenious instrument clockwork is so arranged in connection with a copper cylinder, suspended in a vessel of water, as to produce two antagonistic movements, one of which comes into play whenever excited by the action of the other. By this alternate movement the registration proceeds steadily, and is recorded by a pencil on a band of paper. An exceedingly light spring lever is so combined with the clockwork that it will keep a comparatively heavy weight in action; such as holding a barometer free to rise and fall while the column of mercury stands always at the same level. Many applications may be made of this instrument, especially in the sciences of observation. Its sensibility is such that it will register the loss of weight in a spirit-lamp while burning. The physiologist may employ it to ascertain the weight lost by animals during respiration and perspiration, and the botanist to determine the amount of evaporation from the leaves of a plant; and from these examples others may be imagined.

Stock-taking in science is as indispensable as in business, and there is something like stock-taking in the subject for which the University of Oxford proposes to give a ten guinea medal and about five guineas in cash: it is 'The History of the successive Stages of our Knowledge of Nebulæ, Nebulous Stars, and Star Clusters, from the time of Sir William Herschel.'

The Royal Astronomical Society have published an account of observations of Jupiter's satellites made by Mr Todd of the Observatory, Adelaide, under remarkably favourable circumstances. Sometimes the satellite, when on the point of occultation, is seen apparently through the edge of Jupiter, 'as if the planet were surrounded by a transparent atmosphere laden with clouds.' In a subsequent observation, 'the shadow of the third satellite, when in mid-transit along a high northern parallel, appeared to be visibly oval or flattened at the poles.' On several occasions, as Mr Todd states, he has been surprised at ingress of shadow by the marvellous sharpness, the minutest indentation of the limb being at once detected. One night he saw the second satellite, as it emerged from behind the planet, immediately pass into the shadow, then reappear within a few minutes of the reappearance of and close to the first satellite; and the two thus formed 'a pretty coarse double star.' This must have been a very interesting sight. And there were times when the astronomer was much impressed by the sudden and extensive changes in the cloud-belts of the planet, as though some storm were there in progress, changing the form and dimensions of the belts in an hour or two, or even less. After reading this, may we not say that the observer at Adelaide is remarkably fortunate?

The fall of exceedingly minute mineral particles in the snow and rain in regions far away from dust and smoke has been accepted as evidence that a so-called 'cosmic dust' floats in our atmosphere. Some physicists believe that this dust is always falling everywhere, that the bulk of the earth is increased, and that the phenomenon known to astronomers as acceleration of the moon's motion is thereby accounted for. Iron is found among the particles, exceedingly small and globular in form, as if they had been subjected to a high temperature. Recent spectrum analysis has led to the conclusion that the light of the aurora borealis may be due to the presence of these particles of iron in a state of incandescence. In a communication to the Vaudoise Society of Natural Sciences, Mr Yung assumes that this dust, coming to us from celestial space, will be most abundant immediately after the showers of shooting-stars in August and November; and he purposes to collect masses of air on great heights and treat them in such a way as to eliminate all the cosmic dust which they may contain. His experiments lead him to believe that the particles are in much greater quantity than hitherto supposed, and that they play an important part in the physics of the globe and in the dispersion of solar light. Dr Tyndall has shewn that a perfectly pure gas has no dispersive action. The cosmic dust floating in the upper regions of the atmosphere would account for the luminous train of meteors, and for certain phenomena observed by means of the spectroscope. A long time will of course be required for the quantitative experiments, but they will be of great interest to astronomers as well as to physicists generally.

A telephone has been exhibited at some of the evening receptions in London, but failed to give satisfactory demonstration of its sound-transmitting powers. In America, on the contrary, the success is so remarkable, that the Society of Telegraph Engineers have sent out a deputation to gather information on the interesting subject. In addition to the instances already given in these pages, we have now to present further particulars on the authority of an American contemporary. In April last, telephonic concerts were held in Washington and Boston, the source of the music being in Philadelphia. At each place (that is, Washington and Boston) the music, though rather feeble in tone, was distinctly heard by the audience in all parts of the hall. The different tunes were recognised and listened to with profound attention, the intonations being so clear and distinct as to excite wonder and applause. We are further informed that 'the music (or electric waves of sound) was also conveyed by induction along other parallel telegraphic wires attached to the same poles; for in a telegraph office in Washington the tunes played at Philadelphia were distinctly heard on a "relay" used in the despatch service, and even at some yards' distance from the instrument.' This is the more remarkable as the relay 'had no connection whatever with the wire attached to the telephone.' Another noteworthy characteristic of the telephone is that it will, as is said, deliver a number of spoken messages at the same time without confusion.

If a 'distinguished architect or man of science of any country can shew that he has designed or executed any building of high merit, or produced a work tending to promote or facilitate the knowledge of architecture, or the various branches of science connected therewith,' the Council of the Royal Institute of British Architects will, if they find him worthy, bestow on him their Royal medal. Such are the conditions announced; but supposing that an _un_distinguished architect should prove himself competent, is it to be understood that he will have no claim to consideration? The Council further announce that they will give their Soane medallion and fifty pounds for the best design for a convalescent hospital for sixty patients: Sir W. Tite's prize, thirty pounds, for the best design in Italian style for the façade of a block of buildings in a principal street: the Grissell medal for the best set of drawings illustrating the design and construction of two bays of a groined cloister of the thirteenth century; and the Institute silver medal for the best essay on the Constructive Uses and Artistic Treatment of Concrete. This last is a practical subject which admits of wide application and development.

A paper by Mr S. Knight, read before the same Institute, 'On the Influence of Business Requirements on Street Architecture,' contains information and suggestions which any one interested in the subject would do well to study. The claims of various styles, the Italian, the Gothic, the Composite, are discussed, with due consideration of the important questions of strength, effect, and light. If the Italian has come to be preferred, a reason why can be given; but Mr Knight is of opinion that Gothic is compatible with business requirements, and he brings forward instances. And he remarks: 'The pointed gable is a mode of finishing a roof towards a street as consistent in construction as it is expressive and picturesque in effect; the open valleys between the gables, where repeated in rows, let in light.' Oriel windows, with a glass roof, are described as the best for admission of light. As connected with styles of architecture, we mention that at a previous meeting of the Institute it was shewn that the 'Queen Anne's' style, if rightly named, would be the Stuart style.

It is computed that five million tons of coal are burnt in London in a year. The President of the Meteorological Society states in his annual address that the heat thereby produced combined with that evolved by the inhabitants, suffices to raise the temperature of the air two degrees immediately above the metropolis. Hence it is that some invalids find it better for their health to reside in London during the winter rather than in the country. But the country benefits also, for the prevailing winds being from the south-west and west, the county of Essex and the valley of the Thames below London profit by the adventitious warmth. On the other hand, it is stated that 'London air even in the suburbs proves, as might be expected, exceedingly impervious to the sun's rays.'

Jute is a low-priced product, and is regarded as fit only for very coarse manufactures; and dishonest rope-makers mix it with the hemp which they twist into ropes and cables. But specimens laid before the Paris Society above mentioned demonstrate that jute has remarkable qualities which may be developed by proper treatment. Everything depends on the amount of care bestowed on the preparation and conversion into yarn or thread; it can then be woven into textures suitable for upholstery decorations, for dress, and for household uses, comparable to those produced from flax and hemp.

From further published statements concerning the eucalyptus we learn that this useful tree has been introduced into Corsica, chiefly through the endeavours of Dr Carlotti, President of the Ajaccio Agricultural Society. More than half a million of the young trees are now growing in the island. And it appears from reports made to the Climatological Society of Algiers that more than a million plants of the eucalyptus are growing in that country; that the trees 'possess sanitary influence; that wherever they have been largely cultivated intermittent fever has decreased in frequency and intensity, and that marshy and uncultivated lands have been improved and rendered healthy.'

In 1850, deep borings were made on the Marquis of Downshire's estate near Carrickfergus to explore for coal beneath the old red sandstone. The greatest depth attained was about fifteen hundred feet; no coal was found; but at about five hundred feet from the surface a bed of rock-salt was discovered, which has been turned to good account. We are informed by the President of the Belfast Natural History and Philosophical Society that the bed of salt in the hills to the north of Carrickfergus is more than a hundred feet thick, that fifty feet are left as a roof, while fifty feet are being excavated, and that the roof is supported by pillars of the rock-salt nearly fifty feet thick left standing.

An anchor of novel construction has been made and patented by Mr G. Tyzack of Stourbridge. The novelty consists in the anchor having _one_ arm only, which is reversible and so arranged that whichever way the anchor falls, it finds itself at once in a position to 'bite.' There being no projection above the shank, the anchor is less likely to foul than ordinary kinds; it can readily be taken to pieces and compactly stowed; is said to possess unusual strength; and being made without welding, claims to be cheaper than other portable or swivel anchors. This seems worthy the attention of shipowners and yachtsmen.

A meeting was held last year to talk about a Sanitary Institute. A committee was appointed: they have published a Report and list of members, by which we are made aware that the Institute is now at work, and intends 'to devote itself exclusively to the advancement of all subjects bearing upon public health.' Among these subjects we find ascertaining the qualifications of subordinate officers of sanitary districts--matters relating to medicine and to chemistry in connection with public health--and the establishment of an exhibition of sanitary apparatus and appliances. This is a good programme, with the advantage that its objects may be promoted by persons in all parts of the kingdom. The temporary offices of the Institute are at 11 Spring Gardens, London, S.W.

A paper by Mr Neison on the Statistics of the Societies of Odd-Fellows and Foresters is published in the _Journal_ of the Statistical Society. It furnishes much useful information concerning those associations generally, and shews in what the elements of their success or failure consist. In some instances there is a great tendency towards large and growing sick-lists, which, as Mr Neison remarks, should be carefully watched. He was acquainted with a society in which the rate of sickness was so remarkable that he could not account for it. 'Not only,' he says, 'nine out of every ten were sick, but sick on an average of thirty weeks out of fifty-two. On inquiry he found that these were agricultural labourers, getting a wage of ten shillings a week, and were insured for a benefit varying from eight shillings to eight-and-sixpence. After being sick for a short time they were entitled to half of the benefit, which would be four shillings. Then they obtained two shillings and sixpence from the parish, together with some loaves of bread, which would amount to about seven shillings a week for doing nothing; and as they only get about nine to ten shillings by labouring, they thought the better way was to stop at home and sham illness.' Facts of this kind are not new to us.

THE SOLAN GOOSE.

Mr Frank Buckland has been experimenting upon the anatomical construction of the gannet, and says it possesses in its body the most perfect aeronautic machinery that can be conceived. There is a communication between the lungs, the feathers, and the hollow bones of the bird, by means of which it is able to inflate itself like a balloon. The gannet on which Mr Buckland experimented measured nine inches across the chest, but when inflated it measured fourteen inches. By suddenly pressing the inflated body, the dead bird immediately gave out the loud call of the bird when alive, the sound being produced by means of the air passing through the voice-box at the bottom of the windpipe. The gannet can instantaneously extrude all this air from its lungs, bones, and feathers; and this enables it to drop down from a height upon its prey in the sea with amazing force and rapidity. Some years ago one of these birds was flying over Penzance in Cornwall, when seeing some pilchards lying on a fir plank, in a place for curing those fish, it darted itself down with so much violence as to stick its bill quite through an inch and a quarter plank, and kill itself on the spot. The bones of the bird's neck are of amazing strength, and as hard as an iron rod. The head is joined to the atlas by a beautiful ball-and-socket joint.--_Newspaper paragraph._

THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.

FROM THE GERMAN.

Fragrant daughters of the earth,
Love presided at your birth;
Fancy, by your floral aid,
Passion's ardour oft portrayed;
Let me, then, a garland twine
Of varied hues, to picture mine.

Purity, with brow serene,
Heeds no costly jewel's sheen;
Cull the Lily's blossom sweet
To strew the path beneath her feet.
In its virgin hue we find
An image of the spotless mind.

Braid the maiden's glossy hair;
Place the verdant Myrtle there;
Love, with roses myrtle blended,
When to earth He first descended;
It will blossom brighter now,
On the fair one's snowy brow.

Shining Laurel, let not Fame
Your leaves, for heroes only, claim;
On blood-stained fields they gain the prize
The Poet wins in peaceful guise;
The poets, then, with heroes share
The right the laurel crown to wear.

Know you the Rose? the garden's queen!
Few months, alas! her bloom is seen;
Breathing incense to the air,
Magic odours hover there.
But near the rose, the thorn is ever;
Who can love from sorrow sever?

Let the Daisy's modest grace
In my garland find a place;
The 'bonnie gem' of Scotia's Bard,
'Mid rarer flowers in garden cared,
Though humbly reared, a part may claim,
In memory of the Poet's fame.

Dusky Cypress, sadness weaves
Wreaths for mourners of thy leaves;
Ever o'er the silent grave
Drooping branches sadly wave.
Ah! how vain the tears we shed
For friends once numbered with the dead!

See! Life's pictures quickly fade,
And the flowers in dust are laid;
But the Spring's awak'ning fire
Love and Life once more inspire:
To mourning hearts a hope is given
That we may meet and love in Heaven!

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