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and other places. Brockweir is about nine miles distant from Monmouth, and nearly the same distance from Chepstow. A great many vessels, some of considerable burden, have been built here, and one or two are always to be seen on the stocks.

The river now meanders to Tintern, fringed on the one side with thick woods, and on the other some rich meadows terminate at the village of Tintern Parva. On rounding the point at Lyn-weir, the church of Tintern, close to the edge of the river, wears a singular and picturesque aspect. Another turn discloses the ruins of the once magnificent Abbey Church, a description of which we must reserve for another paper. Here we pause.


ONE of the most prominent and marked symbols of advancing civilization or enterprise in a nation, or in any of its cities, is when attention is paid to its public roads and thoroughfares. If communication and traffic between the inhabitants of different places be, as the experience of many countries has shown it to be, a sure and advancing step in social improvement, it is obvious that attention to the roads, paths, or streets leading from one place to another, becomes an essential element in the progress of that communication. If proof of this were required, the astonishing capital invested in stage-coaches, steam-vessels, canals, and railroads, in our own country, would afford ample proof.

In early times the attention to roads and streets was very fitful and uncertain. It is probable that the first attempts at paving, in the ancient cities, were effected by the wealthier inhabitants, who paved those parts of the streets immediately before their own houses; it was, therefore, optional and uncertain.

In the eastern nations, although the cities were built with great regard to luxury and magnificence, yet attention was not so necessary to the condition of the streets, since the almost utter absence of snow and ice, and the confinement of rain to a particular season of the year, rendered the earth, or gravelly paving, of the streets less liable to that process of destruction, which similar roads would experience in the more humid cities of Europe.

The most commercial cities were the first to adopt the practice of paving public streets. It was from Carthage that the Romans acquired their first idea of its importance, and the city of Rome became paved by degrees. It is related by Josephus, that the Jews proposed to Agrippa, after the building of the Temple was finished, to employ the workmen who had been discharged from building the Temple, to pave the streets of Jerusalem; and it is recorded in the Talmud, that the streets of Jerusalem were swept every day

The remains of Herculaneum show that the streets of that city were paved with lava, having a raised path on each side for foot-passengers.

The government of the Saracens, or Moors, in Spain, during the middle ages, was marked by many enlightened and valuable improvements, in matters connected both with the mental culture of the inhabitants and with the advancement of commerce; and this, too, at a time when the rest of Europe was plunged into a state but little removed from barbarism. Among these improvements was the paving of the city of Cordova, so early as the year 850, by Abderrahman the Second, the fourth Spanish caliph.

The first introduction of pavements into Paris is said to have originated in the following circumstance,

as related by Regord, physician to Philip the Second. The king was one day standing at one of the windows in his palace, on the banks of the Seine, when he was so annoyed by the sight and odour of the dust and rubbish in the streets, that he gave orders to have them paved with stone at his own expense. This occurred in the year 1184; and in the accounts of Gerard de Poissy, intendant of finances, it appears that 11,000 marks of silver were paid for this object. The marked improvement presented by the streets of Paris stimulated the authorities of other cities to follow the example. In 1391 Dijon was paved, Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, contributing 2000 livres towards the undertaking. By the year 1424 the whole of the streets were paved, and one favourable result was, that the health of the inhabitants was not so liable as before to be affected by contagious disorders.

It does not appear that London was paved in the eleventh century, if we may judge from the details of an accident which is said to have occurred in 1090. Bow Church, in Cheapside, was unroofed by a storm of wind, and four beams, which formed part of the roof, were precipitated to the ground, and penetrated the soft miry soil of the street to such a depth, that only four feet of the length was visible above ground, although the entire length of the beams was twentysix feet. A royal command was issued in 1417, which stated, that "the highway called Old Bourne was so deep and miry, that many perils and hazards were thereby occasioned to the king's carriages passing that way, and to those of his subjects;" he, therefore, ordered two vessels, of twenty tons each, to be employed, at his expense, in bringing stones to pave the streets. Smithfield appears to have been first paved about 1614.

The origin of paving in the city of Augsburg, in Germany, may be taken as a type of what occurred in other towns and cities. Hans Gwerlich, a rich merchant, caused a neat foot-path to be laid before his house in 1415; this gained so much approval from the inhabitants, that the government shortly afterwards paved the whole city.

The paving of a street is obviously not the only thing necessary to the preservation of cleanliness; the accumulation of rubbish on the stone paving being a sure means of giving the streets of a town a dirty appearance. Accordingly we find that many squabbles took place between the inhabitants and the town authorities, respecting the cleansing of the streets. This was particularly observable in Paris. After the city was paved, each inhabitant was ordered to keep clean the pavement opposite his own house; but this order was so frequently evaded, that in the fourteenth century the streets became choked up with rubbish. In 1348 a law was passed to make the order more peremptory, and in 1388 the enforcement of the law was rendered more rigorous by heavy penalties. The inhabitants hereupon clubbed together in small parties, for the hire of men and carts to remove the rubbish. But still the order was neglected by the nobles, who conceived that they ought to be exempt from such a duty; the consequence was that many of the public squares, or "places," still remained receptacles for rubbish of all kinds. A subsequent law made it incumbent on all to perform this public duty; but at last, the government adopted the only efficient means of insuring the proper performance of the necessary cleansing of the streets, by making it a national undertaking; they contracted with certain parties to cleanse the streets at a certain sum per annum,-the amount first devoted to this purpose being 70,000 livres per annum.


Sauval, in his History of Paris, relates a circumstance which occurred in that city, considerably earlier than the events which we have just detailed, and which is at once characteristic of the dirty state of the streets, and of the power of the ecclesiastics at that period. King Philip was passing St. Gervais on horseback, on the 2nd of October, 1181, when a sow ran against his horse's legs, made him stumble, and threw the king to the ground with so much viofence that he died the next morning. On account of this accident an order was issued, that no swine should be suffered in future to run about the streets; but this was opposed by the abbot of St. Anthony, on this ground, that it was contrary to the respect due to their patron saint, to prevent his swine from enjoying the liberty of going where they thought proper. It was found necessary, therefore, to grant the clergy an exclusive privilege, and to allow their swine, provided they had bells to their necks, to promenade in the dirt of the streets without molestation. In many of the continental cities, as it was found almost impossible to compel the inhabitants to clean that portion of the paving which was opposite their own doors, the irksome office was shifted on to the shoulders of persons who were generally held as being of mean condition; sometimes the skinners had this tax imposed upon them, at other times the servants of the public executioner had to bear the burden, and in many instances, this office was added to the number of the indignities which were so liberally heaped on the Jews in those days. But perhaps the oddest mode of causing the streets to be cleansed was that adopted at Berlin in 1671, when it was ordered, that every countryman who brought goods into Berlin for sale at the public markets, should take away a load of rubbish on his back.

The gradual spread and improvement of the practice of paving the streets of populous cities, in our own day, are too familiar to every one to render a detailed notice of them necessary.

CENTRE OF GRAVITY (continued).

WHEN we have determined the exact spot where the centre of gravity is situated in any solid, a perpendicular line drawn from such centre, to the centre of the earth, is called the line of direction; and along this line every unsupported body endeavours to fall: if this line fall within the base of a body, such body will remain at rest; if otherwise it will fall.

This will explain to us why it is that a body stands firmly and steadily in proportion to the breadth of its base; and the difficulty of supporting a tall body upon its narrow base. It is not easy to balance a peg-top upon its peg; or a hoop upon its edge; while, on the contrary, the cone and the pyramid stand firm and immovable, since the line of direction falls within the middle of the base, and the centre of gravity in such bodies is necessarily low down near the base.

All the art of a rope-dancer consists in altering his centre of gravity upon every variation of the position of his body, so as to preserve the line of direction within the base. He is assisted in this by means of a long pole, the ends of which are loaded with lead; this pole he holds across the rope, and fixes his eyes steadily upon some object near the rope, so as to detect instantly the deviation of his centre of gravity to one side or the other. If this centre deviates for an instant to one side, he would be liable to fall off the rope on that side; but he preserves his position by lowering the end of the pole on the opposite side, and thus constantly maintains the line of direction within the very narrow base on which he stands. We frequently use our arms in the same manner as the rope-dancer uses his balancing pole. If we stumble with one foot, we extend the opposite arm. In walking along a very narrow ledge, we balance our bodies by means of our arms; a man carrying a pail of water has his centre of gravity thrown on one side by the weight of the pail; he, therefore, curves his body away from the pail, and extends the opposite arm, and thus maintains his centre of gravity in its proper

To be truly and really independent, is to support ourselves position. A man carrying a sack of wheat on his

by our own exertions.-PORTER.

CONSCIENCE, like all other powers, comes to maturity by insensible degrees; and may be more aided in its strength and vigour, by proper culture.-REID.

SEVERAL species of phosphorescent lichens, especially "subcorticalis, subterranea, and phosphorea," are occasionally phosphorescent, and more or less luminous in the dark; and hence they often give to the cellars and mines in which they grow an extraordinary and brilliant appearance. In the coal-mines in the vicinity of Dresden, they are said to be so abundant and so luminous, as even to dazzle the eye by the brilliant light that they afford. This light is increased by the warmth of the mines; so that, hanging in festoons and pendent from the roof of the various excavations, twisting round the pillars, and covering the walls, they are said, by their brightness, to give to the Dresden coal-mines, in which they abound, the semblance of an enchanted palace. Mr. Erdman, the commissioner of mines, thus describes the appearance of the Rhizomorphæ in one he visited:-"I saw the luminous plants here in wonderful beauty; the impression produced by the spectacle I shall never forget. It appeared, on descending into the mine, as if we were entering an enchanted castle. The abundance of these plants was so great, that the roof, and the walls, and the pillars, were entirely covered with them, and the beautiful light they cast around almost dazzled the eye. The light they give out is like faint moonshine, so that two persons near each other could readily distinguish their bodies. The lights appear to be most considerable when the temperature of the mines is comparatively high."

back, leans forward, and thus prevents the weight from throwing the line of direction beyond the base behind him. Numerous other examples of a similar kind will readily occur to the intelligent reader: we now proceed to supply instances which are not so obvious.

In fig. 1, a weight & is attached to a bent wire F, and the latter is fixed at its upper extremity to a



Fig. 1.

piece of wood which rests at its edge upon the table. Now nothing more is necessary in order that the weight should fall to the ground, than that the small piece of wood should tilt over; but a careful attention board, the weight & must rise towards the inner part to the figure will show, that in order to overturn the of the table; and as almost the entire weight (and consequently the centre of gravity) of the whole, resides in the weight G, it is contrary to the law of gravitation for G to ascend, and as the board cannot

upset without raising the weight G, the whole may be made to swing to and fro without falling.

A similar fact is more strikingly shown by suspending a pail of water, as shown in another part of fig. 1. The pail G is supported by a string or handle H, which is secured to a board or stick, rather more than half of which rests upon the table. If the pail were allowed to hang with the handle upright, the whole assemblage would, of course, upset, since the greater part of the weight would be beyond the edge of the table, and the stick is not at all fixed to the table. But the whole acquires stability by merely placing a stick F in the position E G. The upper end is inserted into a notch in the stick at E, while the lower end presses against the pail, and forces the handle H out of the vertical position. Now no motion can be given to the pail without raising the centre of gravity of the whole arrangement, and such an elevation being contrary to the laws of gravity, the position of the pail is one of stable equilibrium, which a slight disturbance is not sufficient to destroy.

Figures 2 to 9 are additional illustrations of the truth that the centre of gravity always seeks the lowest point. They seem, at first view, to be exceptions to the law; for a body does not naturally roll uphill, as in the following cases, but we shall find that they are as perfect illustrations of the law as any that we have before given.

Fig. 2

Figure 2, is a double cone of wood, which rolls up the inclined plane A B C D, fig. 3. The sharp edge formed by the two bases of the cones is placed at c, and the cones roll to AB:

Fig. 3.

Fig. 4.

but although they appear to move up the inclined plane, they actually move along a horizontal line, or down a line slightly inclined, as may be seen by inspecting figure 4, where ce is the line along which the cone moves; ca is the upward inclination of the bars of the frame, which deceive the eye

in the effect produced. But cf is actually the path of the lowest part of the cone, and da the path of the axis, both of which incline downwards.

Fig. 5.

In fig. 5, the cylinder, of which AKI is a section, if placed on an inclined plane c, it will roll down, because the centre of gravity not being supported in the line of direction HID, it falls beyond the point of support F, and the line FA does not coincide with the line of direction.But if the cylinder be not homogeneous; if it be formed partly of wood and partly of lead, as in figs. 6 and 7, where the shaded parts EF represent the lead, the centre of gravity is no longer the centre of magnitude of the

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would roll down the inclined plane quickly but for a heavy body P, which is so adjusted, that the cylinder turns round once in twelve hours, while the weight P maintains a constant direction with respect to the axis of the cylinder; so that the wheel to whose axis it is attached does not move round, but allows the cylinder to move round it. The other wheels are under the control of the central wheel, and act the usual parts of clock-work. On one end of the cylinder is a clock-face, the hands to which are attached to the axis of the central wheel.

He submits to be seen through a microscope, who suffers himself to be caught in a fit of passion.-LAVATer.

HE that does not know those things which are of use and necessity for him to know, is but an ignorant man, whatever he may know besides.-TILLOTSON.

A MAN can always conquer his passions if he pleases; but he cannot always please to conquer his assions.-D. B.


THE whole population of Petersburgh was in motion
on the day appointed for the great fête at Peterhoff.
It was expected that the entertainment would be more
than usually splendid, on account of the presence of
the Queen of Holland, then on a visit to her sister
the empress;
and at an early hour the splendid equi-
pages of the nobility, carriages, droskeys, telegas,
and carts, were hurrying along the banks of the Neva,
while steam-boats, sail-boats, row-boats, and craft of
every description, were gliding on the bosom of the


Peterhoff is about twenty-five versts from St. Petersburgh, and the whole bank of the Neva on that side is adorned with palaces and beautiful summer residences of the Russian seigneurs. It stands at the mouth of the Neva, on the borders of the Gulf of Finland. Opposite is the city of Cronstadt, the seaport of St. Petersburgh, and the anchorage of the Russian fleet. It was then crowded with merchantships of every nation, with flags of every colour streaming from their spars, in honour of the day.

From the time when we entered the grounds, until we left, at one o'clock the next morning, the whole was a fairy scene. The grounds extended some distance along the shore, and the palace stands on an embankment, perhaps a hundred and fifty feet high, commanding a full view of the Neva, Cronstadt, with its shipping, and the Gulf of Finland. We followed along the banks of a canal, five hundred yards long, bordered by noble trees. On each side of the canal were large wooden frames, about sixty feet high, filled with glass lamps for the illumination; and at the foot of each, was another high frame-work, with lamps, forming, among other things, the arms of Russia, the double-headed eagle, and under it a gigantic star, thirty or forty feet in diameter. At the head of the canal was a large basin of water, and in the centre of the basin stood a colossal group in brass, of a man tearing open the jaws of a rampant lion; and out of the mouth of the lion rushed a jet d'eau, perhaps one hundred and fifty-feet high. On each side of this basin, at a distance of about three hundred feet, was a smaller basin, with a jet d'eau in each, about half its height, and all around were jets d'eaux, of various kinds, throwing water vertically and horizontally; among them I remember a figure larger than life, leaning forward in the attitude of a man throwing the discus, with a powerful stream of water rushing from his clenched fist. These basins were at the foot of the embankment on which stands the palace. In the centre was a broad flight of steps, leading to the palace, and on each side was a continuous range of marble slabs, to the top of the hill, over which poured down a sheet of water, the slabs being placed so high and far apart as to allow lamps to be arranged behind the water. All over, along the public walks, and in retired alcoves, were frames hung with lamps, and everywhere, under the trees, and on the open lawn, were tents of every size and fashion, beautifully decorated; many of them, oriental in style and elegance, were fitted up as places of refreshment.

Thousands of people, dressed in their best attire, were promenading the grounds, but there were no vehicles, until, in turning a point, we espied, at some distance up an avenue, and coming quietly towards us, a plain open carriage, with two horses, and two English jockey outriders, in which were a gentlemen and lady, whom, without the universal taking off of hats around us, I recognised at once as the emperor and empress. He looked every inch a king, and she

was my beau ideal of a queen, in appearance and manners. They bowed as they passed, and, as I thought, being outside of the line of Russians, and easily recognised as a stranger, their courtesy was directed particularly to me; but I found that my companion took it very much to himself, and no doubt every long-bearded Russian near us did the same. In justice to myself, however, I may almost say that I had a conversation with the emperor; for although his imperial highness did not speak to me, he spoke in a language which none but I (and the queen and his jockey outriders) understood; for, waving his hand to them, I heard him say in English, 'To the right.'

After this interview with his majesty, we walked up to the palace. The splendid regiments of guards were drawn up around it, every private carrying himself like a prince; and I did not admire all his palaces, nor hardly his queen, so much as this splendid body of armed followers. Behind the palace is a large plain, cut up into gravel-walks, having, in one place, a basin of water, with water-works of various kinds, among which were some of peculiar beauty, falling in the form of a semi-globe.

A little before dark, we retired to a refectory under a tent, until the garden was completely lighted up, that we might have the full effect of the illumination at one view; and when we went out, the dazzling brilliancy of the scene within the semicircular illumination around the water-works, was beyond description. This semicircular frame-work enclosed, in a large sweep, the three basins, and terminated at the embankment in which the palace stands, presenting all around an immense fiery scroll in the air, sixty or eighty feet high, and filled with all manner of devices; and for its background a broad sheet of water, falling over a range of steps, with lighted lamps behind it, forming an illuminated cascade, while the basins were blazing with the light thrown upon them from myriads of lamps, and the colossal figures, of a reddened and unearthly hue, were spouting columns of water into the air. More than two hundred thousand people were supposed to be assembled in the garden, in every variety of gay, brilliant, and extraordinary costume. St. Petersburgh was half depopulated, and thousands of peasants were assembled from the neighbouring provinces. I was accidentally separated from all my companions; and, alone among thousands, sat down on the grass, and for an hour watched the throng passing through the illuminated circle, and ascending the broad steps leading toward the palace.

Among all this immense crowd there was no rabble; not a dress that could offend the eye; but intermingled with the ordinary costumes of Europeans were the Russian shopkeeper, with his long surtout, his bell-crowned hat, and solemn beard; Cossacks and Circassian soldiers, and Calmuc Tartars, and cavalier guards; hussars, with the sleeves of their rich jackets dangling loose over their shoulders, tossing plumes, and helmets glittering with steel, intermingled throughout with the gay dresses of ladies, while near me, and, like me, carelessly stretched on the grass, under the light of thousands of lamps, was a group of peasants from Finland, fiddling and dancing; the women, with light hair, bands around their heads, and long jackets enwrapping their square forms, and the men with long great-coats, broadbrimmed hats, and a bunch of shells in front.

Leaving this brilliant scene, I joined the throng on the steps, and by the side of a splendid hussar, stooping his manly figure to whisper in the ears of a lovely girl, I ascended to the palace, and presented

my ticket of admission to the masked ball. I had not been presented at court, and consequently, had only admission to the outer apartments with the people. I had, however, the range of a succession of splendid rooms, richly decorated with vases and tazzas of precious stones, candelabras, couches, ottomans, superb mirrors, and inlaid floors; and the centre room, extending several hundred feet in length, had its lofty walls covered to the very ceilings with portraits of all the female beauties in Russia, about eighty years ago.

I was about being tired of gazing at these pictures of long-sleeping beauties, when the great doors at one end were thrown open, and the emperor and empress, attended by the whole court, passed through, on their way to the banqueting-hall. Although I had been in company with the emperor before, in the garden, and though I had taken off my hat to the empress, both passed without recognising me.

The court at St. Petersburgh is admitted to be the most brilliant in Europe; the dresses of the members of the diplomatic corps, and the uniforms of the general and staff officers, being really magnificent, while those of the ladies sparkled with jewels. I saw them enter the banqueting-hall, painted in oriental style to represent a tent, and might have had the pleasure of seeing the emperor and empress and all that brilliant collection eat; but turned away from a noise that destroyed much of the illusion, namely, the clatter of knives and forks.

I turned to the illuminated scene and the thronging thousands below, descended once more to the garden, passed down the steps, worked my way through the crowd, and fell into a long avenue, like all the rest of the garden, brilliantly lighted, but entirely deserted. At the end of the avenue, I came to an artificial lake, opposite which was a small square two-story cottage, being the old residence of Peter the Great, the founder of all the magnificence of Peterhoff. It was exactly in the style of our ordinary country houses, and the furniture was of a simplicity that contrasted strangely with the surrounding splendour.

The door opened into a little hall, in which were two old-fashioned Dutch mahogany tables, with oval leaves, legs tapering and enlarging at the feet into something like a horse-shoe. In a room on one side was the old Czar's bed, a low, broad wooden bedstead, with a sort of canopy over it, the covering of the canopy and the coverlet being of striped calico; the whole house, inside and out, was hung with lamps, illumining it with a glare that was almost distressing, contrasted with the simplicity of Peter's residence; and, as if to give greater contrast to this simplicity, while I was standing in the door of the hall, I saw roll by me, in splendid equipages, the emperor and empress, with the whole of the brilliant court which I had left in the banqueting-hall, now making a tour of the gardens. The carriages were all of one pattern, long, hung low, without any tops, and somewhat like omnibuses, except that, instead of seats being on each side, there was a partition in the middle, not higher than the back of a sofa, with large seats like sofas on each side, on which the company sat in a row, with their backs to each other; in front was a high and large box for the coachman, and a footman behind. It was so light that I could distinguish the faces of every gentleman and lady as they passed; and there was something so unique in the exhibition, that, with the splendour of the court dresses, it seemed the climax of the brilliant scenes at Peterhoff. I followed them with my eyes till they were out of sight, gave one more look to the modest pillow on which old Peter reposed his careworn head, and at

about one o'clock in the morning left the garden. A frigate brilliantly illuminated was firing a salute, the flash of her guns lighting up the dark surface of the water, as I embarked on board the steam-boat. At two o'clock, the morning twilight was like that of day; at three o'clock, I was at my hotel, and probably at ten minutes past, asleep.--?


Go forth, thou care-worn man, And roam the woods once more, The forest pathway tread,

And by the lake's calm shore ; Forget thy hoarded gold,

Thou reckless man of sin, And let this Summer morning A short-lived homage win. Go forth, thou sinless child, With that archly-beaming eye, Shout forth thy buoyant gladness, And nature will reply; Thy favourite brook is trilling A mirthful glee to-day, And countless voices calling, "Forth to the woods, away!"

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