a brown colour; a part of the wax becomes saponaceous. The volatile alkali has much less action on the wax of bees.

These two kinds of wax, when strongly agitated in a boiling solution of caustic potash, wash and form a real soap, as observed by Kalm the traveller. The whiteness which wax acquires by this saponification, is not a new phenomenon. C. Chaptal, in his process for bleaching by the steam of alkaline lees, has proved that the colouring principle of vegetables yields to the action of alkalies. Some chemists ascribe this effect to the direct combination of soda or potash with the coloured extractive part, and a combination which brings it to a state almost saponaceous, and renders it soluble.

According to my opinion, the alkali, in this operation, exercises over the oil or wax a double attraction, first direct with the constituent principles of the oil, then predisposing and favouring the combination of the oxygen of the atmosphere with oil or wax. I do not know whether any one before me ever entertained this idea; but it was suggested by observing what takes place when soap is decomposed by an acid. The oil is always concrete and more oxygenated than it was before.

It would be of importance for the theory of chemistry to make soap, if possible, in a close vessel, and to examine the air afterwards, or in different gases containing no oxygen.

By decomposing soap of the myrica, very white wax is obtained; but in a particular state, which does not admit of its being employed for our purposes.

Litharge, or semi-vitreous oxide of lead, dissolves very well in the melted wax of Louisiana. It forms a very hard mass, the consistence of which may be diminished at pleasure, by the addition of a little oil. If the wax of the myrica, as there is reason to think, retains a portion of the astringent principle by a decoction of the berries, the

physicians, perhaps, will find useful properties in topics made with this wax.

By taking a general view of what has been here said, it is seen that the myrica may be of very great service in the arts. The wax which it furnishes is sufficiently abundant to prove an ample indemnification for the care and expense of cultivation, since a shrub in full bearing gives six or seven pounds of berries, from which a fourth of wax may be extracted. This wax is of a quality superior to that of bees.

The astringent principle of the myrica, extracted on a large scale, may be very useful either in medicine or in the arts. In certain respects it may be substituted for the gall-nut in dyeing, hat-making, and perhaps in the tanning some kinds of leather. The colouring principle seems to be sufficiently fixed to deserve some attention; and, if it be true that in Louisiana beautiful lakes are made from it, why is it not rendered useful in painting?

When this wax becomes sufficiently common to be sold at a low price, great advantage might be derived from it in making soap.

The art of bleaching this wax requires also some researches, when it is to be performed on a large scale with economy. Two re-agents present themselves to manufacturers....the sulphuric acid and the oxygenated muriatic. But as wax does not sink in these liquids, means must be found to multiply the contact, either by cuttng the wax into slices, and besprinkling it with oxygenated muriatic acid, or shutting it up when cut in this manner, in casks, into which oxygenated muriatic acid is introduced.

I shall propose a third method, which seems to promise a speedier effect. Place the wax, cut into small pieces, in alternate strata, with hyper-oxygenated muriate of lime: when arranged in this manner, leave it for sometime dry, and in contact. The salt and acidulous water are then to be decomposed

by the sulphuric acid, taking care to pour in water gradually, at different periods, till there is no longer a sensible disengagement of muriatic gas. A large quantity of water is then to be added, and the mixture must be stirred with a rod. By rest, the insoluble sulphate of lime is precipitated, and the bleached wax will float at the surface.

I shall terminate this memoir with some observations on the culture of the myrica.

C. Deshayes, to whom I am indebted for the trials I have made, has observed, for several years, the wax-trees of Rambouillet. What he observed to me on this subject, is as follows:

"The Myrica latifolia (Ayton) is here absolutely in its native country: it is in the soil proper for it; that is to say, in sandy and blackish turf. We have sixteen wax-trees in full vigour. They are four, five, and six feet in height: one male is seven feet. The seeds are abundant almost every year; I say almost, because in some years they fail. The fruit in general is in that part of the English garden assigned to it.

"The culture requires no care. Every year a great number of shoots, which proceed from the roots of the large trees, are pulled up. These are so many new shrubs, which are then planted at the distance of a yard from each other.

"The seeds may be sown in beds in the spring, and then transplanted: but this method is tedious. The myrica will succeed wherever it finds a light soil, somewhat moist. How many provinces are there where the cultivation of this shrub would be useful, and employ land almost neglected!

"What advantages may not agriculture hope for from such an acquisition, since Prussia has so long seen the myrica flourish in its dry sandy plains!"

C. Thiebault, of the academy of Berlin, gave me the following interesting note on this subject:

"The late M. Sulzer, author of a general dictionary of the fine arts,

had obtained from Frederic the Great a pretty extensive piece of waste land on the banks of the Spree, at the distance of half a league from Berlin, in a place called the Moabites. However barren this ground, which presented only a very thin, poor turf, above fine light sand, might be, M. Sulzer converted into a very agreeable garden, worthy of a philosopher. Among other remarkable things, he formed a plantation of foreign trees, consisting of five pretty long alleys running east and west. In these alleys there were not two trees of the same kind following each other. In the alleys most exposed to the north, he planted none but the highest trees, capable of withstanding the severity of the climate. Hence, in proceeding from the north to the south, the first alley exhibited trees of about seventy feet in height, the second trees of from twenty-five to thirty, and so on, in the form of an amphitheatre; so that all these trees had the sun at least in part, and the weaker were sheltered by the stronger.

"In the most southern alley I observed a sort of shrub which rose only to the height of two or three feet, and which M. Sulzer called the wax-trec. Every person visited this alley in preference to the rest, on account of the delicious perfume emitted by the leaves, which they retained a very long time."

C. Thiebault then speaks of the method of extracting the wax. This operation is the same as that described by M. Alexandre.

"I have seen," adds he, "one taper of this wax perfume three chambers which composed M. Sulzer's private apartments, not only during the time it was lighted, but even for the rest of the evening."

The myrica cultivated at Berlin, was, no doubt, more odoriferous than that which we possess, the wax of which does not emit the same perfume.

M. Sulzer intended to make tapers of this wax not bleached, covered with a coating of our finest

wax. The heirs of this academician sold the garden, but the waxtrees still remain. They were planted in 1770.

If it has been found possible to naturalize the Myrica cerifera in the north, why should we neglect a vegetable production so valuable, which would certainly thrive in our southern departments, and which requires less care than bee-hives. The successful trials which have been made, must excite the zeal of our agriculturists.

:

The government has already encouraged this branch of industry, by ordering plantations of the waxtree. There are nurseries at Orleans and Rambouillet, which contain more than 400 shrubs. Results so satisfactory, cannot be made too public. Useful plants are always propagated slowly: a barren but picturesque tree, an agreeable shrub, are soon adopted through fashion they ornament the parterres of our modern Luculluses, and the flower-pots of our Phrynes, while our indefatigable agriculturists exhaust themselves in vain efforts to enrich our meadows with a new grass, or to fill our granaries with a new nourishing grain. The vulgar, through prejudice, long rejected maiz and potatos, which have been of so much service to our soldiers, and to the poor. The oak, which fed our ancestors, is no longer found in our forests. Let us, however, hope that our agriculturists will at length open their eyes to their real interests; and that, laying aside their old prejudices, they will not disdain the presents which learned societies are desirous to give them, and which will conduce as much to their advantage, as to the glory and prosperity of France.

EXTRACTS FROM THE CORRESPONDENCE OF AN AMERICAN IN FRANCE.

(Continued from Number 2, fage 115.) BEFORE Iattempt describing the country from Bourdeaux to Paris,

VOL. I....NO, IV.

I shall first mention a peculiarity, which I have noticed in my walks about Bourdeaux. One hears, in every field, a noise as loud, but not so sweet, as the singing of birds. I was a little surprised at this kind of field-music ....My first guess was, that the performers were frogs; but, upon inquiry, I learned that it proceeded from a kind of fly, nearly as large as a grass-hopper, and of which there was a great number both on the grass and in the trees. Previous to getting into the diligence for Paris, the river Garonne must first be crossed in a ferry-boat. It is somewhat surprising, that a city so large, rich, and commercial, as Bourdeaux, should not have a bridge over the river. The Garonne is certainly, at Bourdeaux, broader than the Thames at Westminster Bridge, and somewhat more rapid; but a wooden bridge might easily be thrown across it, the expense of which would bear no proportion to the advantages that would be derived from it. Ön this subject I can say, with truth, they manage those things better in America.

The soil about Bourdeaux is a rich, deep mould, resembling garden-mould. The country is beautifully diversified with corn and vines; the rich green of the vines forms, at this season of the year, a fine contrast to the yellow harvest.

As it is probable, that you have never seen a vineyard, I think it will not be superfluous to mention to you, that the vines are here not suffered to grow above four or five feet in height; that they are supported, sometimes by espaliers, sometimes by stakes; and are planted in regular lines, at such distances as will barely allow room to to the labourers to pass between them. As the growth of the vine is so much checked, the quantity of fruit is greater. The season of the vintage, la vendange, is the season of merriment with the peasants of the South of France: the labour, though severe, is varied by dancing and enlivened by music. 6

The rich soil of the neighbourhood of Bourdeaux is very favourable to Indian wheat, of which they have large plantations; it is here used principally for feeding and fattening fowls. This corn, which we call Indian wheat, the French call bled de Turquie, or Turkeywheat; and, on the other hand, the bird, which we call Turkey-cock, from the country we suppose it to have originally come from, they call coq d'Inde, or Indian-cock. This is the etymology of their words Dinde, Dindon, which also signify a Turkey. The country, in this neighbourhood, and indeed in the greatest part of the South of France is not only highly cultivated, but so elegantly laid out and planted, as to give the appearance of a rich demesne to extensive districts. The trees are principally chesnut and walnut, which are suffered to grow to a great age, and which pay, not only by their beauty, but by their fruit, for the ground they occupy.

They are planted sometimes in clumps, though oftener singly. It was formerly the custom in France for the owners of estates to keep them entirely in their own hands, and cultivate them by baillies or stewards, who accounted annually for the profits, and could be dismissed at the pleasure of the lord: at present it is not much better; a lease or bail (as they call it) for three or four years, is as much as a farmer can expect; the trees are reserved for the landlord, who makes more by their fruit, than he would by cutting them down. This is the reason the country is so beautifully ornamented with fine old trees. I cannot perceive that this custom of giving short leases has checked, in any degree, the cultivation of the ground; but it makes an estate much more valuable to a purchaser, when neither old leases nor the customs of the country, prevent his receiving the annual value of his land, according to the rise of times. In the first day's journey from Bourdeaux, the river Dordogne, which is neither half as

broad nor as deep as the Garonne, is crossed by a ferry-boat. It appears to me, that it would be a very good speculation for any company or individual, that has a command of money, to propose to the government for leave to build wooden bridges across those two rivers. A reasonable toll would give a very ample interest for the money expended. After crossing the Dordogne, we passed through a pretty considerable town, called Barbezzioux, on our way to Angouleme, which is the principal town of the rich department of la Charente. Angouleme is the most romantically situated town I have yet seen.

It lies so high, that, on viewing it from a distance, its steeples and its towers seem elevated to the clouds. It is a large town, strong by situation, and fortified in the old manner, without out works. It was in the Vendee war, considered a very respectable and important post, and was always well garrisoned.

The view of the country from the ramparts is uncommonly bold and beautiful: the ramparts are very steep, and at the foot of them, on one side of the town, runs the river Charente, which gives the name to the department, and which can be seen for many leagues, directing its winding course through a rich vale and luxuriant scenery.

The ramparts are the public walk to Angouleme, and a more delightful one can hardly be seen in any country. Here as in the public walks of Bourdeaux there are a number of chairs, and the inhabitants pass the greater part of a summer's evening on the ramparts.

From Angouleme we pass through Chattelleraut; the Birmingham of the South of France, to Poictiers, which is also a chief town of a department, and famous for a complete victory gained by the English army, commanded by Edward the Black Prince, over the French army, which was considerably more numerous, and commanded by their King in person.

The memory of this battle gives a particular interest to this town, and makes the surrounding country classic-ground. The town is also fortified, and has a noble public walk, which is a raised terrace, near a mile in length, having an extensive view of the river and the surrounding country. I dwell particularly on the public walks, as it is in this respect that the French towns, although by no means so well built as the English towns, have a considerable advantage over them. It appears to me, that, whether the cause is in the climate, or, as I rather think, in the attractions of the walks themselves, which collect all the inhabitants of a town together in the evenings, it must produce a considerable effect on the manners of the people, and improve their social habits. From Poictiers to Tours, there is no town of consequence, except St. Maure. As Tours and its neighbourhood deserve a particular description, I shall postpone it for the present,and give you some more general observations that I have made on this journey from Bourdeaux to Tours. Although the face of the country is much superior to England, for natural beauty, and, I believe, I may say, for productive cultivation, yet it is very far inferior to it in some other respects. Instead of the ele gant houses of noblemen and gentlemen of fortune, one sees here only a few old ruinous chateaux or castles, built some centuries ago, and which no English gentleman would live in: the few houses one meets, which convey any idea of the comforts of a middling station in life, are called maisons burgoises to distinguish them from the chateaux of the nobility, which, with all their pride of antiquity, are not near so commodious. The only buildings I have met with in this journey (the immediate neighbourhood of the great towns excepted) which can pretend to elegance or tase, are the ci-devant religious establisments, which are converted pretty generally into manufactories: neither

well-built villages, nor comfortable farm-houses, are often to be seen here. The middling, as well as the higher ranks, usually live in the towns, and it seems as if the country was entirely abandoned to the peasants, who cultivate the ground, and to their overseers. The roads do not afford the same variety as in England. From Bourdeaux to Tours (a distance of above two hundred miles) I did not meet a private carriage of any sort.

Public diligences and cabriolets carry all travellers who go in carriages, and enormous waggons, with only two wheels, convey all goods, whether the merchandize of the town, or the productions of the country. As for my living on the road, I have, in my last, described it to you; and, as to my companions, I have only to say, that they were all of them easy, good-humoured, and agreeable. This is indeed the universal character of Frenchmen in mixed companies; they are not at all reserved, but on the contrary lay themselves out to please and be pleased, and are generally successful. There was only one of my fellow-passengers, whose story was so strongly marked as to be worthy of a particular account: I shall mention this case in my next.

I shall conclude this letter with a description of the petit commerce of the fair marchandes, in all the towns on this road. Had Sterne travelled this way, or heard of this class of tradeswomen, they would have had a conspicuous place in his Sentimental Journey. In every town, as soon as the carriage stops, or you enter the inn, you are surrounded by a groupe of young girls and women, all neatly dressed, and some very handsome. They all sell the same things....knives, scissars, and tooth-picks, made at Chatellerault. The power of beauty, and all the arts of female eloquence and persuasion, are used to induce you to buy a two penny tooth-pick, in case you are already provided with knives and scissars. As it is very hard to refuse a handsome