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gold in his domains-will be well-nigh scared out of his wits by the uncouth apparition. Neptune himself would probably run away ve he to catch a glimpse of a diver dressed after Klingert's fashion, with a tin-plate pot on his head, a brass-hooped cylinder round his loins, a drawers with an iron framing to protect his legs.

But even adopting the best of these devices, it is found difficult to venture upon any extensive explorations. That pleasant old pratie: in science, Bishop Wilkins, who hoped to effect such wonderte discoveries in the bed of the sea by means of his "arks," whira families were to live, and where children were to be born, would bar been woefully disappointed had he learned how little man can sti accomplish by his submarine gropings.

But as we have not provided ourselves with armour, anul har. satisfied our curiosity already, and have no great expectation of findin: a fortune where Duke Clarence dreamt he saw such glorious lygi. gold and heaps of pearls, you become anxious that the signu f:: return should be given. I pull the rope accordingly. But the inahi. does not move! I begin to feel very uneasy. Horrible thoughtë rask through my brain. Can the men above have run away, awl left wat perish? People have done strange things before, why may the ne do strange things again? There are scoundrels who would think ai un excellent joke— really a superb piece of waggery—to let in liebuntil we were drowned by the rising water, or choked with our cz carbonic acid. Perhaps the rascals have gone to dinner, and me knowing anything about the chemistry of the lungs, imagine that we can make ourselves quite comfortable until they are pleased to return Or, possibly—and the very thought seems to stiffen my hair ir: porcupine's quills—the tackling by which we were suspended muur late snapped, and, if so, our case is perfectly desperate ! Oh, why I ask myself in agony) did I enter a machine not constructed up Mr Spalding's plan, for did not that ingenious grocer insist upon huvita: separate chamber in his apparatus, in order that it might be talked wil water when he wanted to sink, but occupied with air when he tea! to rise ? My dear friend, if we had only come down upon his print! we might have ascended to the surface at pleasure, and at an 2003 those miscreants whilst they were in the very act of chucklingen: our fate!

But no! a jerk is folt. The bull begins to move I brat my uncharitable surmises. Human natur', after all, is not a distan as many people choose to assert. There we gu-sure enou hcleaving the waters on our return to the warm precincts of us. (); spirits mount as we approach the surface, and particularly whea v. reflect tlint we have nearly accomplished a feat whirh few timmary mortals would dare to attempt. You may notice, too, that your arte tite seeins to rise as well. The fact is, that the comprend airs diving bell sharpens it amazingly. Persons employe I in contro :: piers, breakwaters, or in other subaqueous operaties, while them to work in a dense atmosphere, become uncommonly vurace Inspiring, as they d), a larger quantity of oxygen than usual with

act of inhalation, a quicker waste of the bodily material ensues. To make this good, fuller or more frequent rations are required. Let no man therefore invite a person to dinner who has just been down in a diving-machine, unless he is prepared to see his guest make havoc with his provisions.

At last, with a great “plop," such as an inverted pail or tumbler makes when it leaves the water, we emerge from the bosom of the briny deep (to use the language of poets), and are immediately brought to bank (to employ the homelier phraseology of pitmen).

But after all, you ask, What is there to be seen at the bottom of the ocean? Ah, good reader, if you could walk across the bed of the Atlantic or Pacific, from continent to continent, it would be the strongest stroll that mortal ever took! You would find, if your faculties of vision were sufficiently sharpened for the purpose, that there were hill and valley-towering mountains whose tops were islands, and huge plains rivalling the great deserts of the land in their desolate sweep, with here and there volcanic cones, * sheets of hardened lava, springs of boiling water, and terrible chasms left by the earthquakes which have gashed the ground. In the deeper parts of the sea not a blade of true vegetation could be detected. Not a single fish probably swims in the profundities of the ocean, and if Schiller's diver had reachel these solemn regions, he would have met with none of the monsters he encountered in howling Charybdis.

There no ray of light from the smiling sun ever pierces. A stillness like that of an unpeopled planet prevails, for the fiercest tempest which ploughs up the surface in huge billows, cannot trouble the tranquillity of those awful abysses, and there the great disturber, man, never comes except dying_dead. All

, in fact, is gloom and desolation. For though the plummet has faintly probed those depths, what news has it brought up to the dwellers on the land ? Simply this, that the bed of the ocean is a vast cemetery, strewn with the shells of microscopic creatures, which once lived near the surface, and when their little life was ended, sank slowly, weeks or months being consumed in their funeral march to the bottom, where they will repose till some day this spacious burial-ground will be uplifted, and then they will appear as compact and massive rocks. But “the depths have more." For there lie the remnants of the gallant ship which foundered in storm, or sunk in battle—the cannon and cutlass, which are now corroding in peacethe costly merchandise which, saved, would have secured its owners fortune ; lost, destroyed his hopes, and broke his heart—the gold for which the possessor bartered his honour here, and perhaps his happiness hereafter-and, mixed with all, the grinning skull and ghastly skeleton—the bones of the fierce pirate and his helpless prey-relics alike of the lawless rovers who swept the ocean for plunder, and of the honest mariner who died in the service of civilization, and went down to rest in hope till the sea shall be summoned to give up its dead, both good and bad, both small and great.

• A line of cinders has been traced by the sounding apparatus for a distance of 1,000 miles between Ireland and America (Maury).



Daughter of chiefs and monarchs ! where art thou ?
Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead ?
Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low
Some less majestic, less beloved head ?
In the sad midnight, while thy heart still bled,
The mother of a moment, o'er thy boy,
Death hushed that pang for ever: with thee fled
The present happiness and promised joy,
Which filled the imperial isles so full, it seemed to cloy.

CHILDE HAROLD. Canto IV. It is more than twenty years ago that we accompanied an invalid mother one fine autumn by leisurely stages to the Isle of Wight. Our first halt was at the neat country inn of the Bear at Esher, fifteen miles from town; and while one of us remained with my dear mother in the quaint little inn parlour, the others proceeded up a by-road to the left of the inn, bounded by mossy park palings, and overhung by fine trees, till we reached a lodge-gate, surmounted by the royal arms.

At the mention of a talismanic name," the gates wide open flew," though not on golden hinges turning, and we proceeded up a carriage-road, winding through undulating turf cropped by sheep, till we came to the house.

It is a substantial, light-brick mansion, with stone dressings, and a Grecian portico surmounted by the royal arms. A flight of about twenty steps led us to the entrance-door, where we soon obtained audience of the housekeeper, who took us over the first-floor, which comprises a square entrance-hall, grand staircase, and eight spacious apartments en suite.

After duly admiring a fine cast of the Warwick vase in iron, lined with copper, executed at Berlin, which occupies the centre of the hall, we entered the library, which contained full-length portraits, by Dawe, of the Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold; also portraits of the Princess's preceptor, Dr. Fisher, Bishop of Salisbury, and her sub-preceptor, Dr. Short.

“On this chair," said the housekeeper, with a little sigh, “the Princess laid her shawl the evening she returned from her last walkand her watch on that chimney-piece. She was tired, and sat down directly she came in."

We listened with reverence; then followed her into the diningroom, where there was a fine cattle-piece, by Loutherberg, over the chimney-piece. Next we came to the gallery, fifty-eight feet by twenty-four, where were full-length portraits of the Prince and Princess, again by Dawe, who seems to have basked in the sunshine of Court patronage. There were also many other portraits, including

those of George III. and Queen Charlotte, copied by Lawrence from Sir Joshua Reynolds; the Princess's maternal grandmother, the Duchess of Brunswick; the keen, caustic Frederick the Great, of Prussia, &c. Also several cabinet pictures, by the old masters; none of them sufficiently interesting to retain a permanent place in the memory. One of them the Princess had herself bought at an old shop in Oxford-street. Various busts, a statuette or two, and one or two bronzes. In one of the windows, I now forget whichweither of this gallery or the drawing-room-a pretty polished table, formed of the pebbles collected at the sea-side by the Princess in her childhood, imbedded in cement.

Next came the breakfast-room, communicating with the room in which the Princess died, and which, for twenty years afterwards, was locked up. In this breakfast-room, if I remember right, the Prince slept when the Princess was confined ; and here he afterwards slept when he became King of the Belgians, during his yearly visits to Claremont. Adjoining it are a small dressing-room and bath-room.

Lastly, we came to the drawing-room, stored with ornaments and curiosities of all descriptions, including two Indian cabinets presented to the Princess by the Marquis of Hastings; and a superb porcelain table, adorned with highly-finished paintings of the interior of the Louvre, and presented to the Prince by Charles X. Here we were pleased to renew our acquaintance with Sir William Beechey's charming portrait of the Duchess of Kent, sitting on a sofa, dressed in slight mourning, with her infant daughter, the little Victoria, playing with the Duke of Kent's miniature, hanging round the widowed Duchess's neck.

The housekeeper remarked that those of the household who could remember the Princess Charlotte, thought the Princess Victoria somewhat resembled her, especially in her quickness and decision. Her Royal Highness was very fond of coming to Claremont, where King Leopold wished her to feel quite its mistress; and once, when with the intention of doing her honour, new chairs, &c., were substituted for the old ones in the drawing-room, she exclaimed that she liked the old ones the best, and begged they might be restored to their places.

All this, scanty as it was, interested us in our future Queen, who became our Queen in reality the following year; but being as yet only the expectancy and rose of the fair state, I must say we dwelt less on her than on the memory of one whose early promise, misfortunes, short-lived happiness, and premature death, had already consecrated the sleepy shades of Claremont; and as we returned through the park, after visiting the gardens, we dropped into silence, during which I called up all the scattered anecdotes of her that my memory supplied.

I have often wondered that no little manual has ever appeared, simple and short enough to preserve her name among us.

She was born on the 7th of January, 1796; and the separation of her parents occurring soon afterwards, she was left in charge of her mother, the

Princess of Wales, who took up her abode at Montague House, Blackheath. In a short time, however, the little Princess was removed from her mother's care, and placed with Lady Elgin in a neighbouring residence; only visiting the Princess of Wales once a week.

Meantime her education was carefully conducted. Hannah More, writing in 1799 from Fulham Palace, says: “I have been rather royal lately; on Monday I spent the morning at the Pavilion at Hampton Court, with the Duchess of Gloucester ; and yesterday I passed the morning with little Princess Charlotte at Carlton House. She is the most sensible and genteel little creature you would wish to see. I saw Carlton House and gardens in company with the pretty Princess, who had great delight in opening the drawers, uncovering the furniture, curtains, lustres, &c., to show me. My visit was to Lady Elgin, who has been spending some days here. For the Bishop of London's entertainment and mine, the Princess was made to exhibit all her learning and accomplishments; the first consisted in her repeating The Little Busy Bee,' the next in dancing very gracefully, and singing 'God save the King,' which was really affecting (all things considered) from her little voice. Her understanding is so forward that they really might begin to teach her many things. It is, perhaps, the highest praise after all to say, that she is exactly like the child of a private gentleman, wild and natural, but sensible, lively, and civil.” She delighted the Bishop of London (who told her that when she went to Southend, she would be in his diocese,) by dropping on her knees, and asking his blessing.

Probably the bad terms on which her royal parents were living had caused her removal to Carlton House ; but she used still to visit the Princess of Wales at Blackheath, and as she drove along the Kent-road, stood at the carriage window kissing her pretty hand to passers-by, her beautiful fair hair falling in long heavy curls over her shoulders. One day my grandmother, who had frequently thns noticed her, observed, to her surprise, that she wore a dark crop wig, surmounted by a white turban, with a red rose in it! On mentioning this strange circumstance to a lady who had friends at Court, the latter replied, " Ah, I think I can explain it. The Prince of Wales lately asked Lady Elgin why the child's hair was allowed to grow in that frightful manner, on which she replied that it was by the Princess of Wales's order. The Prince sent for scissors, and, without another word, cut the Princess's hair off himself, so close that her head was rubbed with spirits to prevent her taking cold; and, doubtless, the first wig that could be procured was made use of." However that might be, my grandmother saw for herself, when the wig was left off, that the hair beginning to grow was notched across the forehead, as if by an unskilful cutter.

Unhappy the child of parents at variance! Of course, the Princess Charlotte was soon old enough to know “the state of parties;" for children are, in general, precociously observant of such matters, and she was a clever child. Unable to decide the demerits

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