stones!-and so drily. It was wonderfully tiresome-and stones are not interesting things in themselves!"

We took tea, and soon afterwards had supper, as was usual. He discoursed after supper with as much warmth as before of the wonders of chemistry; of the encouragement that Napoleon afforded to that most important science; of the French chemists and their glorious discoveries; and of the happiness of visiting Paris, and sharing in their fame and their experiments. The voice, however, seemed to me more cruel than ever. He spoke likewise of his own labours and of his apparatus, and starting up suddenly after supper, he proposed that I should go instantly with him to see the galvanic trough. I looked at my watch, and observed that it was too late; that the fire would be out, and the night was cold. He resumed his seat, saying that I might come on the morrow, early, to breakfast, immediately after chapel. He continued to declaim in his rapturous strain, asserting that chemistry was, in truth, the only science that deserved to be studied. I suggested doubts. I ventured to question the pre-eminence of the science, and even to hesitate in admitting its utility. He described in glowing language some discoveries that had lately been made; but the enthusiastic chemist candidly allowed that they were rather brilliant than useful, asserting, however, that they would soon be applied to purposes of solid advantage. "Is not the time of by far the larger proportion of the human species," he inquired, with his fervid manner and in his piercing tones, "wholly consumed in severe labour? and is not this devotion of our race-of the whole of our race, I may say (for those who, like ourselves, are indulged with an exemption from the hard lot are so few, in comparison with the rest, that they scarcely deserve to be taken into the account,) absolutely necessary to procure subsistence; so that men have no leisure for recreation or the high improvement of the mind? Yet this incessant toil is still inadequate to procure an abundant supply of the common necessaries of life: some are doomed actually to want them, and many are compelled to be content with an insufficient provision. We know little of the peculiar nature of those substances which are proper for the nourishment of animals; we are ignorant of the qualities that make them fit for this end. Analysis has advanced so rapidly of late that we may confidently anticipate that we shall soon discover wherein their aptitude really consists; having ascertained the cause, we shall next be able to command it, and to produce at our pleasure the desired effects. It is easy, even in our present state of ignorance, to reduce our ordinary food to carbon, or to lime; a moderate advancement in chemical science will speedily enable us, we may hope, to create, with equal facility, food from substances that appear at present to be as ill adapted to sustain us. What is the cause of the remarkable fertility of some lands, and of the hopeless sterility of others? a spadeful of the most productive soil, does not to the eye differ much from the same quantity taken from the most barren. The real difference is probably very slight; by chemical agency the philosopher may work a total change, and may transmute an unfruitful region into a land of exuberant plenty. Water, like the atmospheric air, is compounded of certain gases: in the progress of scientific discovery a simple and sure method of manufacturing the useful fluid,

in every situation and in any quantity, may be detected; the arid deserts of Africa may then be refreshed by a copious supply, and may be transformed at once into rich meadows, and vast fields of maize and rice. The generation of heat is a mystery, but enough of the theory of caloric has already been developed to induce us to acquiesce in the notion that it will hereafter, and perhaps at no very distant period, be possible to produce heat at will, and to warm the most ungenial climates as readily as we now raise the temperature of our apartments to whatever degree we may deem agreeable or salutary. If, however, it be too much to anticipate that we shall ever become sufficiently skilful to command such a prodigious supply of heat, we may expect, with out the fear of disappointment, soon to understand its nature and the causes of combustion, so far at least as to provide ourselves cheaply with a fund of heat that will supersede our costly and inconvenient fuel, and will suffice to warm our habitations for culinary purposes and for the various demands of the mechanical arts. We could not determine, without actual experiment, whether an unknown substance were combustible; when we shall have thoroughly investigated the properties of fire, it may be that we shall be qualified to communicate to clay, to stones, and to water itself, a chemical recomposition that will render them as inflammable as wood, coals, and oil; for the difference of structure is minute and invisible, and the power of feeding flame may perhaps be easily added to any substance, or taken away from it. What a comfort would it be to the poor at all times, and especially at this season, if we were capable of solving this problem alone, if we could furnish them with a competent supply of heat! These speculations may appear wild, and it may seem impro bable that they will ever be realized, to persons who have not extended their views of what is practicable by closely watching science in its course onward; but there are many mysterious powers, many irresistible agents, with the existence and with some of the phenomena of which all are acquainted. What a mighty instrument would electricity be in the hands of him who knew how to wield it, in what manner to direct its omnipotent energies; and we may command an indefinite quantity of the fluid: by means of electrical kites we may draw down the lightning from heaven! What a terrible organ would the supernal shock prove, if we were able to guide it; how many of the secrets of nature would such a stupendous force unlock ! The galvanic battery is a new engine; it has been used hitherto to an insignificant extent, yet has it wrought wonders already; what will not an extraordinary combination of troughs, of colossal magnitude, a well-arranged system of hundreds of metallic plates, effect? The balloon has not yet received the perfection of which it is surely capable; the art of navigating the air is in its first and most helpless infancy; the aerial mariner still swims on bladders, and has not mounted even the rude raft: if we weigh this invention, curious as it is, with some of the subjects I have mentioned, it will seem trifling, no doubt a mere toy, a feather, in comparison with the splendid anticipations of the philosophical chemist; yet it ought not altogether to be contemned. It promises prodigious facilities for locomotion, and will enable us to traverse vast tracts with ease and rapidity, and to explore unknown countries without difficulty. Why are we still so

ignorant of the interior of Africa ?-why do we not despatch intrepid aeronauts to cross it in every direction, and to survey the whole peninsula in a few weeks? The shadow of the first balloon, which a vertical sun would project precisely underneath it, as it glided silently over that hitherto unhappy country, would virtually emancipate every slave, and would annihilate slavery for ever"

With such fervor did the slender, beardless stranger speculate concerning the march of physical science: his speculations were as wild as the experience of twenty-one years has shown them to be; but the zealous earnestness for the augmentation of knowledge, and the glowing philanthropy and boundless benevolence that marked them, and beamed forth in the whole deportment of that extraordinary boy, are not less astonishing than they would have been if the whole of his glorious anticipations had been prophetic; for these high qualities, at least, I have never found a parallel. When he had ceased to predict the coming honours of chemistry, and to promise the rich harvest of benefits it was soon to yield, I suggested that, although its results were splendid, yet for those who could not hope to make discoveries themselves, it did not afford so valuable a course of mental discipline as the moral sciences; moreover, that if chemists asserted that their science alone deserved to be cultivated, the mathematicians made the same assertion, and with equal confidence, respecting their studies; but that I was not sufficiently advanced myself in mathematics to be able to judge how far it was well founded. He declared that he knew nothing of mathematics, but treated the notion of their paramount importance with contempt. "What do you say of metaphysics?" I continued; "is that science, too, the study of words only?"

"Ay, metaphysics," he said, in a solemn tone, and with a mysterious air, "that is a noble study indeed! If it were possible to make any discoveries there, they would be more valuable than any thing the chemists have done, or could do; they would disclose the analysis of mind, and not of mere matter!" Then rising from his chair, he paced slowly about the room, with prodigious strides, and discoursed of souls with still greater animation and vehemence than he had displayed in treating of gases-of a future state-and especially of a former state-of pre-existence, obscured for a time through the suspension of consciousness-of personal identity, and also of ethical philosophy, in a deep and earnest tone of elevated morality, until he suddenly remarked that the fire was nearly out, and the candles were glimmering in their sockets, when he hastily apologised for remaining so long. I promised to visit the chemist in his laboratory, the alchemist in his study, the wizard in his cave, not at breakfast on that day, for it was already one, but in twelve hours one hour after noon-and to hear some of the secrets of nature; and for that purpose, he told me his name and described the situation of his rooms. I lighted him down-stairs as well as I could with the stump of a candle which had dissolved itself into a lamp, and I soon heard him running through the quiet quadrangle in the still night. That sound became afterwards so familiar to my ear, that I still seem to hear Shelley's hasty steps.

(To be continued.)

MONTHLY COMMENTARY.

Hulton of Hulton-Swing at College-New Musical Instrument-High Price of Beggars-The Barricade of Liberty-A truly Great Man-The true Guardian of the Laws-The Benefit of Clergy-Free and Easy Monarchs-Measure of Colonial Relief-What's in a Name?

HULTON OF HULTON.-The correspondence of Lord Althorp and Hulton of Hulton, the commander at the glorious action of Peterloo, is a curious specimen of a system which the Ministers must soon give up in despair. We mean the grand conciliation plan, according to the rules of which it is safe to despise friends, but enemies must be treated with respectful attention. The letters of Lord Althorp and this pompous magistrate form together such a caricature of this poor-spirited principle of action, that it will be now fairly laughed out of the cabinet.

Mr. Hulton, indignant at some expression which fell from Lord Althorp in speaking of the Manchester massacre on a late occasion, announced his intention of retiring from the Commission of the Peace-an announcement which appears to have filled his brother magistrates with despair. Whereupon one of them, a Mr. Phillips, writes a most angry letter to his Lordship, and tells him to pause in his headlong career. "You know not what you are doing," he cries, with your Reform crotchets; you have offended Hulton of Hulton Park; he is going to retire entirely, owing to something you said; and the Editor of The Times' knew better than to print any thing against Hulton of Hulton; therefore, for God's sake, turn from the error of your ways, and perhaps Hulton of Hulton may, after all, consent to stay on the bench."

What step might be expected from a Minister acquainted with the art of governing? Mr. Phillips is a Deputy Lieutenant; and the first conclusion a man of ordinary judgment would come to is, that one so intemperate, and so silly, as to address such a letter to a Minister, respecting what fell from him in his place in Parliament, is utterly unfit to retain his situation.

But what does Lord Althorp do? He straightway sits down to appease the wrath of Hulton of Hulton! "I did not say this; I could not say that; only eloquent men say these things, not speakers like me ;-I offend the feelings of no one, much less a man of the rank of Hulton of Hulton," &c. &c.

The consequence is just what might be expected from the Peterloo general. "Oh, ho!" cries the magistrate, with the air of the bull-frog in the fable," here is this fellow of a Minister humbling himself before me. He puts his neck under my foot, and shall not I, Hulton of Hulton, trample upon it with all the weight of a Tory Deputy Lieutenant?" He writes. Oh! poor Lord Althorp, how he must have blushed at his own folly as he read this bombastic epistle!

But patience: the Chancellor of the Exchequer had put himself in the wrong, and must make the best of it. He tries a second step along the slimy path of conciliation. Nothing will do: the magisterial bantam now crows louder and loader: the Chancellor of the Exchequer is entangled in his own cobweb of > excuses, and the magistrate next informs him that he has called in his friends to read his letters, and that they are all chuckling over his abasement in a grand - chorus of→→→

Brekekekex, coax-coax,

Hulton of Hulton's a lad of wax.

This is too much even for the patient and all-suffering Lord Althorp, and he finishes the correspondence with a short epistle as black as milk can make it.

"Sir-I have had the honour of receiving your letter. I may have been wrong in volunteering a letter to you. My reason for doing it was, that I never wish, if I can avoid it, to give offence to any one. I was informed I had given offence to you. I had not intended to do so, and I wrote to you with the intention of removing any such impression from your mind, if it existed there. In this I have failed, and, therefore, I do not feel myself called upon to say anything more.

"I have the honour to be, Sir, your most obedient humble servant,

"Downing-street, Nov. 26, 1831."
Jun.-VOL. XXXIV. NO. CXXXIII.

H

"ALTHORP."

There is a rejoinder of the Great Unpaid, taunting his Lordship with his reso-* lution not to say any more," and putting him in a dilemma about his correspondence with the Birmingham Union, and the subsequent proclamation against it. The Tories, in the favourite slang of Manchester, will call this putting his Lordship's head into chancery, and keeping it there. There are Reformers who will venture to cry out in the same tongue-serve him right.

How different is Lord Melbourne's treatment of poor Mr. Iles, a Reformer, the founder of a Union, who, when the society was oppressed by a magistrate ignorant enough to quote the King's speech as law, applied to him for advice and

assistance.

"Whitehall, Dec. 13, 1831.

"Sir-I am directed by Viscount Melbourne to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of yesterday's date, inclosing a copy of the rules and regulations, and statement of the objects of a Society proposed to be established at Fairford, designated as 'The Poli tical Union for Fairford and its vicinity,' and desiring to be informed whether such Institution be at variance with existing laws, or objectionable in the view of the Ministers of the Crown. And I am to acquaint you that Lord Melbourne declines giving any opinion on the subject.

"I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

"S. M. PHILLIPPS."

"To Mr. Richard Iles, Fairford, Gloucestershire." Poor Iles! Are we to believe that if you had been an over-bearing Tory, and had dated from Iles Park, and been "a man of my rank," you would have had a letter which would have spared your feelings and conciliated your esteem? -or, no! let us hope for a less ungenerous distinction, though not a wiser one. The friend of Reform was already gained—the enemy was to be softened. One would have hoped, after Lord Ebrington's spirited though friendly rebuke on the night that the Reformers of the House of Commons preserved by one vote. the Ministry and the country, that this fatal system of overtures to the Implacable would have been abandoned. We firmly believe that had Mr. Hulton been a Reformer, Lord Althorp would not have written to him. Once more: respectfully, earnestly, we entreat the Government to beware of that old Whig policy which no Whig Ministry have pursued but to their ruin.

UNIVERSITY INTELLIGENCE-SWING AT COLLEGE.-Two attempts have been lately made to blow up the Cambridge Post-office. At length Mr. Brane, stu dent of Trinity College, has been caught in the fact. He was found inserting in the box a parcel of gunpowder, with a piece of lighted touch-paper attached. We are afraid the state of morals among the students of the Universities is pretty nearly as low as it can be. Mr. Brane's object has doubtless been glory: wearied with cat-killing, lamp-breaking, bargee-mauling, and all the series of gown and town squabbles, he has determined to immortalize himself by a lark," which should reach the very heavens. Mr. Brane stands a good chance of removing from Trinity to Sydney: at the latter college he will take his degree in arts at present he is passing a Bachelor of Laws. His friends will be disappointed to hear that his attempt at taking "honour" has failed, and that he has been obliged "to gulph."

NEW MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.-Mr. Murray, the chemist, in his book on Pulmonary Consumption, tells us that Dr. David Badham has set to music the palpitation and irregular beating of the diseased heart of a female patient in the Royal Infirmary of Glasgow. It forms a kind of pathological waltz. Dr. Johnson observes, that the bars, crotchets, quavers, and demi-quavers are tunefully arranged, and form one of the greatest curiosities in morbid anatomy that was ever witnessed. This is certainly turning a bad heart to good account. The poor lady little thought what kind of Overture the Doctor was making when she gave him her hand-to feel, and permitted him to lay his head on her bosom-to listen.

HIGH PRICE OF BEGGARS.-Juvenal tells us, that the beggar passes the robber singing, thereby showing, that as he has nothing to lose, he is fearless-the robber cannot make him less a beggar. But invention has been carried to a wonderful pitch in these times of civilization. The beggar no longer sings before the robber; he skulks out of his way. He is rich in a property, to know