Page images
PDF
EPUB
[graphic][subsumed][merged small]

slightest obstacle stops it; it turns round objects, burns them if they be combustible, and envelopes and petrifies them as it cools, if they be not so. Thus it is that the city of Herculaneum has been sealed into a semimetallic mass, and, as it were, cast in the lava which now covers it. Pompeii has disappeared under a discharge from Vesuvius, under a shower of ashes and little stones which have gradually, though rapidly, covered it, just as certain Alpine villages disappear beneath the snow in our severe winters. Such is the reason why so much money has been expended in uncovering but a few small parts of Herculaneum, namely its theatre, which continues hid in utter darkness; whilst a third part of Pompeii has been cleared, exhibits itself to the open sky, and renders us contemporary with its inhabitants. Let us, therefore, hasten down the Vesuvius and view its ravages, which have been miraculously preserved for us in its whole splendour, a city of thirty thousand souls buried for eighteen hundred years past.

(To be continued.)

Excuses for not attending Public Worship.Overslept myself-could not dress in time-Too cold—too hot-too windy-too dusty. Too wet -too damp-too sunny-too cloudy. Don't feel disposed. No other time to myself-look over my drawers. Put my papers to rights. Letters to write to my friends. Taken a dose of physic. Going to take a ride. Tied to business six days in the week. No fresh air but on Sunday. Can't breathe in church, always so full. Feel a little feverish. Feel a little chilly. Feel very lazy. Expect company to dinner. Got a headache. Intend nursing myself to-day. New bonnet not come home. Wasn't shaved in time. Tore my muslin dress coming down stairs. Got a new novel, must be returned on Monday morning. Don't like the liturgy, always praying for the same thing. Don't like extempore prayer--don't know what is coming. Don't like the band-'tis too noisy. Don't like singing-makes me nervous. Can't sit in a draft of air-windows or door open in summer. Can't bear extempore sermon-too frothy. Dislike a written sermon-too prosing. Nobody to day but our minister-can't always listen to the same preacher. Don't like strangers -spurn them with contempt. Can't keep awake when at church. Snored aloud last time I was there-shan't risk it again. Mean to inquire of some sensible person about the propriety of going to so public a place as church.

ON DIET.

Dr. ARNOTT gives the following amusing summary of the powers of the steam-engine, and of the objects upon which they have been employed.

In its present perfect state, the steam-engine appears a thing almost endowed with intelligence. It regulates with perfect accuracy and uniformity the number of its strokes in a given time, and counts and records them moreover, to tell how much work it has done, as a clock records the beats of its pendulum; it regulates the quantity of steam admitted to work, the briskness of the fire, the supply of water to the boiler, the supply of coals to the fire; it opens and shuts its valves with absolute precision as to the time and manner; it oils its joints; it takes out any air that may accidentally enter any part that should be vacuous: and when anything goes wrong, which it cannot of itself rectify, it wants its attendants by ringing a bell;-yet, with all these talents, and even when possessing the power of a hundred horses, it is obedient to the hand of a child:-it never tires, and wants no sleep; it is not subject to malady, when originally well made; and only refuses to work, when worn out with age; it is equally active in all climates, and will do work of any kind; —it is a water-pumper, a miner, a sailor, a cottonspinner, a weaver, a blacksmith, a miller, &c., and a small engine, in the character of a steam-pony, may be seen dragging after it on a railroad a hundred tons of merchandise, or a regiment of soldiers, with greater speed than that of our fleetest coaches. It is the king of machines, and a permanent realization of the genii of eastern fable, whose supernatural powers were occasionally at the command of man.

In order, however, that the steam-engine may perform these wonders, and work in any of the capacities which have been enumerated, two things are necessary. The engine must be fed; and as its parts become worn by use, they must be repaired. It must be supplied with coals, wood, charcoal, or other combustible matter, and water, which it converts into power; and when the machinery is injured, what is imperfect must be changed and replaced.

The machinery of the animal frame works under the same conditions. In order that it may energize, it must have food; and that it may not sensibly be deteriorated by use, it must undergo constant repairs. But there is this difference in the two cases. In the animal frame, the source both of its energies and of its structural restoration is one and the same. Its food furnishes both.

The blood, which is formed from our food, flowing to the brain and the muscles, and the stomach, not merely maintains their power, but in addition carries to the same parts, and to all the rest, the materials of their growth and renovation.

The supply of food to the steam-engine has one purpose only to effect. It is, again, administered with absolute precision as to time and quantity; for it is meted out by those who understand the construction and working of the machinery, who know its wants exactly, and have no bias from prejudice or inclination to supply them otherwise than with rigorous exactness.

The food of human beings, more complicated in its objects, is meted out under much less favourable circumstances. The party who apportions it, for the most part, does not understand the action or the wants of the machine which he undertakes to supply; and what is more, for a long period is not only incurious on the subject, but often disposed to repel any information which may fall in his way. His motive for conveying aliment into his inside is of a totally different com. plexion to a calculated forethought of the needs of his economy: his exclusive object is to please two senses, and to gratify two appetites;-perhaps he besides takes delight in the whirl into which the machinery is thrown by excess, that fills him with giddy transport, while it undermines his existence. Well, indeed, may Dr. Beaumont say, "In the present state of civilized society, with the provocatives of the culinary art, and the incentives of highly-seasoned food, brandy and wines, the temptations of excess in the indulgence of the table are rather too strong to be resisted by poor human nature."

Every one who has reached the middle of life must have had occasion to observe how much his comfort and his powers of exertion depend upon the state of his stomach, and will have lost some of his original indifference to rules of diet. Such rules must especially interest those who have the care of others,-of children with delicate health,—of the aged, who have ceased to exert their former care and observation

of themselves. And if the principles have already been laid down by many writers, no one, it is probable, can attentively reconsider this subject, without seeing some of its bearings more justly and usefully than his predecessors have done.

[Abridged from MAYO's Philosophy of Living.]

ON QUIET CHRISTIANS.

Oн, how I love a quiet Christian! There must be men of energy and ardour; men zealous enough to undertake and carry on what more timid and retired spirits are unequal to; but there is something very pleasant and wondrously influential in a quiet Christian.

My

Do you ever meet with discipies of Christ of this kind, who make no bustle about their profession, but set it forth in their daily walk and behaviour? Men, whose very appearance is a text, and whose lives are profitable sermons. old friend Nathaniel is one of this kind; you never see his name at the head of a subscription list, nor hear his voice in a controversy. These things are out of his way; and yet if I were called upon to point out a truly God-fearing man, a devoted servant of Christ, I would put my hand on his shoulder, and say reverently, in the words used by our blessed Saviour, “Behold an Israelite, indeed, in whom is no guile!"

Nathaniel is a man slow to promise, and prompt to perform. Oh, what a fuss have I known a man, who has plenty to spare, make, before now, with a subscription for a poor widow! running from one to another, quoting texts of Scripture in commendation of charity, and advocating the widow's cause with a loud voice, wiping the perspiration from his face with his hankerchief, having a world to do, and a world to say about the affair, while all the time his name was put down for only five shil

lings. Nathaniel is one that, in such a case, quietly inquires into the character and circumstances of the party, and slips a ten-pound note into the widow's hand when no other eyes are on him than the eyes of the Eternal.

Often and often have I sat with Nathaniel by the hour together, without his uttering so much as a single word, for he says little, and thinks much. The peaceful repose of his countenance when reading his Bible, is a study, and the placid smile that now and then spreads over his features, tells you that he is banqueting on heavenly food.

There is more influence over my affections in the very shadow of such a man as this, than in the presence of half a dozen hot, vehement, hurlyburly Christians; and Christians there are of this kind. -Old Humphrey.

Sold at No. 97, Strada Forni.

No. 56.

Saturday, October 3rd. 1840.

EXCURSIONS AROUND NAPLES.

(Continued from No. 55.)

Herculaneum and Pompeii.

Peradventure there be fifty righteous within the city: wilt thou also destroy and not spare the place for the fifty righteous that are therein? and he said, I will not destroy it for ten's sake. Gen. xviii. 24-32.

HERCULANEUM and POMPEII seem both very distant from the focus of Vesuvius. They are now separated from it by inhabitants and cultivated spaces which have been conquered from the lava and recovered from the volcano. The village of Portico is built upon the roofs of the first of those two cities, which was petrified on the day of its death, and into the tomb of which one descends as into a mine, by a sort of shaft, ending at the theatre, where, it is conjectured, the inhabitants were assembled when the eruption surprised them. It was in 1689 that the ruins of the city made their appearance for the first time in an excavation made at random, which was resumed in 1720, and finally organized in 1738 with admirable success. The discovery of the theatre and of everything else has taken place since that period. The theatre is of Greek architecture; it is ornamented with a fine front, and with marble columns standing on the stage itself; the spectators occupied twenty-one rows of steps, with a gallery above embellished with bronze statues. One can still distinguish the places allotted to the magistrates, the scene behind which the actors withdrew, and a number of objects which excite in the traveller mingled astonishment and emotion. There are also at Herculaneum a Forum surrounded with particoes and temples, which are almost all of them damaged, and a gaol with old rusty iron bars, to which the prisoners were chained—a melancholy feature of all times, and a monotonous emblem of human society at all periods. As you leave these excavations, which have as yet made little progress, and cannot be

[Price 1d.

much extended without endangering the safety of Portici, you distinctly perceive several strata of lava, proving beyond a doubt that Herculaneum was drowned in repeated eruptions of Vesuvius.

The difficulty of carrying on the excavations at so great a depth, and under the very foundations of a new town, has caused the ruius of Herculaneum to be almost abandoned for those of Pompeii, which presents a far more striking interest. At Herculaneum there are only catacombs. At Pompeii the Romans entirely revive; the houses stand, and are furnished and ornamented with picturesque paintings; the cellars are stocked as well as the tables; in more than one dwelling the dinner has been found on the table, and the skeletons of the guests ronnd it, and then you enter everywhere on the same floor; and as the ashes, which lie but a few metres thick upon the ancient buildings, are cleared, the town appears, as those come to light again when the snow melts in mountainous countries. You arrive by a suburb wholly lined with Roman tombs, and walk over a Roman pavement, worn out by Roman vehicles; you may enter the inn; there are the stables, with the rings to fasten the horses; close by is the farrier, with his sign over the door. If you penetrate into one of those tombs, you will find urns containing ashes, hair, and fragments of calcined bones. Every where are displayed inscriptions, unaffected, dignified, and touching, such as the epitaph dedicated by a woman to her husband:"Servilia, to the friend of her soul." Let us advance; we are in town. To the right of the gate you behold the guardian's sentrybox cut into the stone. Take the footway, for there are footways at Pompeii, Roman footways, with posts at intervals on both sides, footways wherein one ceases not to gaze on wheel-ruts, made eighteen hundred years ago!

[graphic][subsumed][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]
« PreviousContinue »