become more visible, for, in the smelting, refining, and | puddling furnaces, the transforming causes are principally chemical; certain substances are separated from others, in which new properties are developed; but all this is veiled in a sort of mystery, and hidden from our inspection. Now begin the more mechanical operations, and we are surrounded by the din of hammers, shears, and engines.

The next work is the rolling, or passing the oblong and hammered blocks of iron between rollers of great power. This compression stretches the metal into longer and thinner pieces than could be produced from the strokes of any hammer. When the heavy bars have been drawn through the first pair of rollers, they are subjected to the action of a second pair, placed nearer to each other than the first. A third, and a fourth compression between still closer rollers follow, and thus the iron is gradually drawn out and reduced in thickness by such repeated stretchings.

These successive compressions not only render the texture of the iron more compact, but expel more of the oxydized matter, or cinder, as it is called, and thus the rolling performs an important part in the purification of the metal.

As another rolling must be noticed at a subsequent stage of the manufacture, we omit a more detailed description of the operation in this place, and proceed to describe the process of cutting the bars into the length required by the workman. The common notion of shearing may suggest many simple operations, but that solid bars of iron can be cut with an ease equal to that with which a child divides a piece of cotton with a pair of scissors, occurs to the imagination of few persons. A cutting instrument is moved up and down by a steam engine, and in its descent divides the bar with all the facility characteristic of power. The force of the stroke is, nevertheless, so great, that unless the workman is cautious in placing the bars properly beneath the shears, a severe wrench will be sustained by the man, caused by the powerful impulse of the shears upon the bars. But this operation is only the prelude to others of an important character, to which we must now advert.

The last remark may induce some readers to exclaim, "What is the obstinate metal yet unsubdued? are more fires and giant-like pressures still needful to bind the stubborn mass to the purposes of man?" Yes, reader; the powers of mighty engines and the energies of intense furnaces must again be employed ere the iron will yield its latent riches, or develope its hidden powers. The bars which have just been rolled cannot be sold; the manufacturer prizes them not; and human skill must further combine with human labour to mould the stubborn pieces into marketable iron. The rolled bars are at present so full of defects that no smith could use them for the commonest purposes, and, though some degree of malleability and toughness have been gained, more finish is requisite. What then is next to be done? Another furnace is now called into operation, called the heating or balling furnace, in which the iron is brought to a high temperature to fit it for welding. In the previous furnaces the metal was liquefied, but no such result is here allowed, as the object desired is to soften and not melt. The manufacturer wishes several of the rough bars to be sufficiently softened for welding together, so that two or more may be compressed into one by rolling. But to effect this the bars must be softened, and put through the rollers before they become cold.

A pile of the rough bars is placed in a furnace, where they remain till brought to the heat required. If they are removed from the furnace too soon, the bars will not be sufficiently softened to admit of that union of several into one which it is the object of the manufacturer to effect; and, if they are too long exposed to the heat, some portion will be burned, and so rendered brittle: hence, the great care of the workman is em

ployed to detect the proper moment when the heating has been carried to the safety point. The importance of seizing the exact instant may be estimated from the fact, that a delay of two or three minutes will suffice to deteriorate whole piles of iron, and render them unfit for sale.

This heating process causes the metal to lose con siderably in weight, as a great bulk of impure substance, in other words the oxide, called cinder, is detac from the bars, and flows down to the bottom of the furnace. The metal has now by numerous stages bea reduced to a condition capable of freely parting with the oxydized substance, without the necessity of ustrz machines for its separation. The oxide, accordingly, first collects on the surface of the heated bars, err which it forms a kind of mineral glaze, protecting them from the too high temperature of the furnace. T the very substance which the manufacturer has been se long endeavouring to expel from his metal, now perfan, as it is finally leaving the iron, a beneficial service. y securing the piles from the scorching effects of intere heat. So important is the protection afforded by th covering of melted oxide, that, when one part of a tr accidentally loses this coating, the iron is destroyed burning. The quality of the metal as it leaves heating furnace is of the greatest importance, for s is properly the last stage in the purification; whate operations yet remain, being more adapted to ge soundness and toughness, than impart purity.

Thus, at last, the rough mass of ore appears in te shape of a valuable piece of iron, from which the sh may procure all the various articles demanded by numerous pursuits of men.

Not that even this iron is perfectly pure;-such a te of metal has probably never been made, and will. haps, for ever elude all the skill of the modern facturer; but it is sufficiently freed from carben oxygen to become available for welding purposes.

What is the exact difference, a reader may ask. tween this malleable bar-iron, as it leaves the hete furnace, and the pig-iron, as it ran into the moulds 2.7 the smelting?

The proposer of this question does but repeat! inquiry which has exercised the attention of the scientific chemists; indeed there are few questions o nected with manufactures, more puzzling than that proposed, or to the answering of which our prest amount of knowledge is less fitted. The mechas properties of the pig-iron marked No. 6, are totally ferent from those of the finished bar-iron; the latter; capable of sustaining the blows of hammers, and mitting of various operations requiring malleabil but the former so brittle, that a stroke will shiver largest pieces. Notwithstanding this diversity, 1chemical qualities of the two are nearly the same; having but a small proportion of carbon. Thus we the singular case of two pieces of metal, possessing near the same constituent qualities, and yet exhibiting th most diverse mechanical properties. The more “Presembles bar-iron in its chemical nature, the greater is the diversity in other respects: the more carbon ta is in pig-iron the more tough it becomes, whilst barret decreases in brittleness with the loss of its carbon; th exhibiting a singular contradiction between the inter structure and external qualities, and proving how li we can sometimes reason from a mere chemical analys of substances.

The last step in the manufacture of iron is the rolling, which brings the bars to their finished stat The great object of the workman in this operati is to weld several bars into one, and so improve the texture of the iron by such amalgamation of the metalli: fibres as shall ensure the greatest possible strength the bar. The action of the roller in thus combini several pieces of iron may be compared to that of a hammer in the common smitheries, where two bars of heated iron are frequently beaten into one. The hammer

however, acts with far less efficiency on the small iron of
the blacksmith's workshop, than the rollers upon the
heated bars taken from the furnace; for the pressure of
the roller is uniform, and the force constant, but the
hammer only acts at the instant of the stroke, which is
not always given with the same power, and therefore not
unvarying in its effects. These successively diminishing
rillers resemble the drawing machines in the cotton
manufacture, by which the thread is gradually extended
to the required fineness; and thus, in two such opposite
processes, we perceive the application of the same
mechanical principle to effect a similar result, either in
a bar of iron or thread of cotton. As the bars are passed
through the rollers in a heated state, the wear and tear
of the hard iron rolls themselves is very great; nor is this
surprising when we recollect the force with which they
compress the bars, and the great heat of the latter, which
ast inevitably tend to wear away the surface of the
rolls. Nor does the case-hardening of these altogether
prevent the effects of such powerful friction, for the
number of revolutions made by the small rolls in a
minute amounts to about two hundred and forty, which
cannot but rub away continually a portion from the sur-
face of the hardest rollers. The various details con-
nected with the manufacture of boiler plates, nail rods,
sheet iron, and other divisions of this extensive trade,
need not here detain the reader. It may, however, be
necessary to state that the rods from which nails are
made, are cut into long slits by steel cutters as they are
rolled, and thus a heap of rods sufficient for millions of
nais is quickly slit by this peculiar machinery. Nor
must we attach little importance to this branch of the
iron trade; for the making of nails engages the attention
of numerous scientific men, and has occupied the inves-
tigation of engineers, who have taken out patents for
improved methods of manufacture. The boiler plate is,
in its first shape, a thick square piece of iron, and this
being brought to the proper degree of heat is passed once
between the rollers, which are then brought nearer to
each other by the action of a powerful screw, and the
plate is pressed a second time, after which the rollers
are again brought nearer, and the plate compressed a
third time; thus the operation is repeated till the plate
is reduced to the state required.

(To be continued.)

suspected that the good farmer, who seemed so kindly disposed towards me, had sent me a basket of provisions, but I could not comprehend his modesty in sending them before daylight. When I entered the sitting-room, I found the two girls standing by the table on which the box was placed. It was carefully sealed up; the address to me written in large letters; and two large round holes neatly cut in the top. I lifted it up and found it tolerably heavy. With Jenny's assistance, I gently raised the lid, for I had been desired to handle it carefully, and, on removing a fine white cloth which covered everything, there lay No, it is impossible for words to describe our astonishment! "Merciful God!" we all exclaimed as with one voice. There lay a young child, some six or eight weeks old, dressed most beautifully in white with pink ribbons, fast asleep; its little head rested upon a pillow covered with white satin, and its cap and even the coverlet were trimmed with the finest lace. We stood gazing on it for some time in speechless amazement: at last, Polly burst into a kind of nervous laugh, exclaiming, "What is to be done with it? this is no bishop's mitre!" Jane, gently stroking the cheek of the sleeping infant, said with an expression of the softest pity, "Poor little creature! thou hast no mother, or perhaps the wretched mother dare not own thee! Gracious God, to desert such a lovely helpless little being! Sleep on, poor forsaken innocent! Thy parents, perhaps, would tremble with shame and anguish at thy presence, but sleep in peace, we will not reject thee well have they chosen, I will be thy mother!" As Jane spoke, two large tears rolled slowly down her cheeks, and, taking the sweet tender-hearted maiden in my arms, I pressed her to my heart, and said, "Let it be so. Be a mother to this babe. Those who are themselves the victims of misfortune, should assist their fellow-sufferers. God proves our faith: or rather, it is because he knows it, that he has sent us this poor deserted little one. True, we scarce know ourselves where to look for food on the morrow, but he who has sent the desolate orphan to us for refuge, will give us the means of supporting it."

Thus our determination was soon taken, long ere the babe awoke from its soft and gentle slumbers. It was in vain that we exhausted ourselves in conjectures concerning its parents, who must know us, as the box was directed to me. Unluckily, Polly could tell us nothing further of the man who brought it to the door. And now, whilst I again read over my sermon for the new SOME PASSAGES FROM THE JOURNAL OF year, "On the wonderful Providence of the Almighty," A WILTSHIRE CURATE.1 my daughters commenced an interesting conversation January 1, 1765.—This year has commenced with a being of the little stranger. Polly's childish joy was on the measures to be taken for the comfort and wellmost extraordinary and unheard-of event. As early as excessive, but Jane was serious and deeply agitated. I six o'clock this morning, when I was still in bed, reflecting on the sermon I am to preach to-day, I heard myself felt as if the new year had commenced by a a sharp knock at the door. Polly, who was already miracle, and perhaps it was a superstitious feeldown stairs, hastened to open it, and found a respect-assist me in my deep distress. I cannot express what a ing- --as if the child were a guardian angel, sent to able looking man with a large box under his arm, weight seemed taken off my heart. I felt inexpressibly which he gave to her with these words.-" Mr. (the foolish girl did not catch the name,) “Mr. happy and consoled. sends this box to the clergyman, and entreats him to take the greatest care of its contents." Pelly, though greatly astonished, took the box with ca hesitation, and the bearer instantly disappeared. Polly knocked gently at my door to ascertain whether I was awake. I desired her to come in, when she wished me a happy new year, and added laughing, "See, dear father! my dream has come true; this must be the bishop's mitre." She then presented the new year's gift which had just been brought for me, but I regretted she had not inquired more particularly the name of the unknown giver. While she was gone to light the fire, and to call Jane, I rose and dressed myself. I do not deny that I was burning with curiosity, for hitherto, it must be owned, the presents to the curate of Cricklade on new year's day had been few and insignificant. I

(1) Continued from page 22.

of my sacred office, tired and exhausted. The muddy The same evening.-I returned from the performance road which I had to traverse for many miles was nearly But many blessings awaited me; the warm and comimpassable, and I reached home fatigued and dispirited. fortable room, the cheerful welcome of my daughters: they had prepared supper for me, and the almost forgotten luxury of a bottle of wine, a new year's gift from strength. But nothing gave me more pleasure than the sight of the laughing babe, crowing and kicking in Jenny's arms. Polly showed me the little bed she had made up for our nursling, and then pointed to the quantities of linen and clothing of the finest materials, into my hands a letter addressed to me, which was which were placed with it in the box, and then gave found at the child's feet.

some kind but unknown hand, soon restored my failing

Curious to learn something of the birth of my unex

It appears from this letter that he has some intention of returning to Cricklade: I hope he will; I should then be able to thank him in person. The excess of his gratitude has, perhaps, induced the young man to give me all he possesses in the world, merely because I assisted him in a moment of distress, by a loan which certainly comprised half the ready money I then possessed. This would annoy me greatly; he appears à thoughtless youth, but generous and warm-hearted.

pected visitor, I hastily tore open the packet. It con- | if I am fortunate enough still to retain a place in their tained a rouleau of twenty guineas, and a letter which memory." ran thus :-" Impressed with the fullest confidence in your pious and humane feelings, the unfortunate parents of this beloved babe have committed him to your care. He is already christened; his name is Alfred. The first payment for the expenses he will entail upon you accompanies this, and the same sum will reach you punctually every three months. We entreat you to take this innocent creature under your protection, and we earnestly recommend him to the tender care of your sweet daughter Jane." When I had read the letter Little Alfred improves delightfully with us. Jane. aloud, Polly jumped up, and, clapping her hands with like a young mother, scarcely lets him out of her arms; delight, execlaimed, "There! is not that as good as the he smiles at her, and seems already to know her. The bishop's mitre? Good heavens, how rich we are! Now girls manage the little stranger far better than I could we shall do well enough without the curacy." But I have anticipated. He is really a fine creature, and looks was not quite so well pleased, and I wished the letter quite beautiful, as he lies in his little cradle, close to had named the "sweet Polly," also. We read it over Jenny's bed, who, like his guardian angel, watches day twenty different times. We could scarcely believe our and night over her adopted son. eyes at the sight of so much gold. Here was indeed a new-year's gift! I found myself suddenly relieved from my bitterest anxieties for the future. But in what a strange incomprehensible manner! In vain I repassed in my mind every individual who, from their station, or other circumstances, might find themselves under the necessity of temporarily concealing the birth of a child, or who would offer such generous payment for an act of Christian charity. It was quite hopeless! I could discover no one: and yet the parents must have been thoroughly acquainted with me and mine. Wonderful are the ways of Providence!

January 2d.-Fortune overpowers me with its favours! This morning I received another packet by the post. This time it really was a letter from Fleetman, enclosing the sum of twelve Pounds. This is too much for each shilling he has repaid me twenty. He must have been wonderfully successful; indeed he tells I know not how to express my thanks to him, for he has unluckily omitted to tell me where to direct to him. God grant that this influx of riches may not elate me too much. I now begin to hope that I may in time be enabled to pay honourably Col. Brooke's debt to Withell.

me so.

Nothing could equal the delight of my daughters when I told them of Fleetman's letter. I do think he has bewitched them: Jane turned as red as fire, and Polly ran laughing up to her, and put her two hands before her sister's face. Jane really seemed quite angry with the foolish child. I read the letter to them, though with some embarrassment, for the young man is an enthusiast; his expressions are much more flattering than I deserve; indeed he exaggerates every feeling. Even what he says of my dear Jane appears to me too strongly expressed. I really pitied the confusion of the poor modest girl while I read. I hardly dared raise my eyes to her face. The passage which concerns her certainly is very remarkable; it runs thus,-“When I left your happy home, I felt, Sir, as if I once more abandoned my father's house, to roam through a world which was a desert to me. I never, during my whole life, shall forget you, or the happiness I experienced during those few short hours. I ever see you before my eyes, rich in your poverty, rich in Christian humility, rich in your patriarchal simplicity and elevation of soul; and the merry, charming, fascinating Polly; and Jane,

what words can describe her, what term can be applied to her, whose presence purifies and ennobles every earthly object? The moment in which she presented me with the money, will be eternally present to my memory; eternally shall I remember your kind assistance, and the sweet words of consolation which fell from her lips. Do not be astonished-I have still those twelve shillings; I would not change them for a thousand golden guineas! I trust soon to be able to open my heart to you. Never in my whole life have I felt so happy or so miserable as I do at present. I entreat you to offer my grateful respects to your lovely daughters,

January 3d.-To-day, the new curate, Mr. Bleching, arrived at the inn, and sent for me. I went immediately, and was received very courteously. He announced me that he was to be my successor in the curacy; thi he wished, if not disagreeable to me, to enter upon the duties of his office as soon as possible; but that I might continue to inhabit the parsonage till Easter, as he hal found a lodging which he could occupy for the presen

I replied that I should be happy to give up the entir duty to him immediately, as I should then be more liberty to exert myself to find another employment I only wished to preach a farewell sermon to that e gregation who had for so many years listened to carnest endeavours to explain and preach the word of God. It was arranged that he should come in the afternoon, and examine the state of the parsonage-house. His young wife accompanied him. She appeared rather proud and disdainful, and I suppose comes of a very great family, for nothing in the whole house would please her, and she scarcely deigned to take the slightes notice of iny daughters. When she saw little Alfred in his cradle, she turned suddenly round to Jane, ar! said, What, are you married?" Jenny became cri son, and shaking her head, replied in the negative, lat with so much embarrassment, that I was forced to e to the poor girl's assistance. Mrs. Bleching listened my story with intense curiosity, then shrugged up shoulders, and turned her back upon me. I the this very ill-bred, but said nothing. On offering the some tea, it was abruptly refused. I could see that t new curate was completely under the orders of his in perious lady. We were not sorry when our visitat departed.

January 6th.-If I may judge by the letter I hard just received from Mr. Withell, he is a worthy and ex cellent man. He expresses his regret that I should le implicated in the unfortunate affair of the bond, entre's me not to distress myself, and says he shall be satiste. if I can pay my debt in ten years. He appears to aware of my misfortunes, for he alludes delicately to til state of my affairs; but what affords me the higist consolation is that I see he considers me a man honour, and I will show him that he is not deceive? I will go myself as soon as possible to Trowbridge, a pay him Fleetman's twelve pounds towards the liqu tion of my unfortunate debt.

Although my daughter Jane assures me that sh sleeps well at night, and that little Alfred does not turb her, as he only requires to be fed once, neverthe less I am uneasy about her. She is not near so gaya formerly, though she has much more reason to be c tented and happy now, than when we were anxis about our daily food. Sometimes she sits with bet knitting in her hands, silent and buried in the her eyes fixed on vacancy, and her formerly fingers hanging listlessly beside her; when spoken to she starts like one in a deep sleep, and is some tim before she understands what has been said; this 2

active

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sheesh. I managed to get over without even wetting my toes or any part of me, by lying full length on my donkey. L.'s courser went very well till he got to the middle and deepest part of the stream, and then began, with the greatest coolness possible, to turn round and round; this manoeuvre he persisted in, and we could not induce him to proceed by fair means or foul for some time. C. nearly tumbled in, but saved himself, and escaped with getting wet through to the waist. This, however, terminated our adventures, and we reached home, or rather our hotel, safely at five o'clock in the afternoon. We did not allow ourselves more than a short rest, when, having procured fresh donkeys, we started for the company's office, where we were told that we were not to leave Cairo till ten o'clock in the evening of the ensuing day.

evidently the consequence of broken rest, although she will not allow it. I cannot persuade her to sleep a little in the day-time: she declares she is perfectly well. Another thing, too, disturbs me about her: I really did not believe the girl had so much vanity: it is very clear that Fleetman's praises were not displeasing to her, for she asked me to give her his letter, that she might read it over again. She has never returned it to me, and keeps it in her work-basket! I doubt its being for what he says of ME: poor little vain thing! January 8th.-My farewell sermon received the tribute of tears from most of my auditors. I am now, for the first time, convinced that I am beloved by my flock. I have received the strongest expressions of attachment from all sides, and many have made me valuable presents. Never have I had so many delicacies, or so much wine in my house, as at this moment. Had I We had thought we had only this day to stay, and possessed the hundredth part in the days of want and were accordingly not a little rejoiced at this further privation, I should have esteemed myself fortunate. rest. The remainder of the evening was spent in visitNow we are literally surrounded with luxuries: how-ing the Turkish market and wandering through various ever, it is not ourselves alone who benefit by it; both parts of the town. At eight we returned to our hotel Jenny and myself know all the poor families in Crick- to dinner, immediately after which, wearied and waylade, and they also profit by this abundance, and rejoice worn, we retired comfortably to the arms of Morpheus. with us. I felt much agitated whilst preaching my last 23d.-Breakfasted at nine; the same six mounted sermon, and it was not written without tears. I feel as again and started for the slave market, which is if cut off from all that has hitherto formed my world, about three miles off; we arrived there in good time, from my sacred calling, from my early vocation. I am and saw the slaves confined in most miserable holes. driven forth from the vineyard of the Lord, like an un- There were, in the first place, about two dozen Abys worthy servant and yet I have not laboured as an sinian boys from ten to eighteen years of age, the ugliest Hireling, but have planted many a fruitful vine, and creatures I ever beheld; and then two or three girls of cut away some unproductive branches. I am rejected the same breed, and if possible uglier still,-a rather from that vineyard, where day and night I have watched pretty little Nubian, not at all unlike an East Indian, and worked, where I have instructed, consoled, but too dark; and that was all of the sad collection. cherished, prayed! I avoided no sick bed; I strengthened the dying sinner in his last dread struggles, by the holy name of Christ. I left no poor man to perish alone, and I often brought back the lost sheep into the path of life. God of heaven! were not all these souls bound up with mine own and now they must be torn asunder! My heart bleeds in agony, but thy will, O God, be done!

:

How willingly would I undertake all the duties of my office without salary! but it is too late; my successor is already in possession of my curacy. I have been accustomed to poverty from my childhood, and my youth and manhood were passed amid care and privations. We might all live upon the money I receive for little Alfred's expenses, and I would not think of the future, or care for what may become of my grey hairs, could I but continue to teach the word of God to my beloved parishioners. But, God's will be done. Let me not murmur at his dispensations! The tears which have blotted these words are not tears of bitterness. I pray not for riches, or better days, but, O Lord, drive not thy servant for ever from thy service, even though his strength is small! Let me enter once more into thy vineyard, and by thy blessing again win back souls unto the Lord!

The whole of us were thoroughly disgusted, and stayed no time, especially as the merchants wanted us to buy, for our dragoman had brought us in under the pretence that we wished to purchase, as we should not have gained entrance under any other pretext.

Retreating as fast as possible from this shocking sight, we went to the oldest mosque in Cairo, built soon after the death of Mahommed. It is a beautiful building, and must have been splendid in former times, though now rather dilapidated. Among other curiosities it contains two very hard black stones, about eight feet square, on one of which are the marks of a man's hands, on the other of his feet. Our dragoman told us that it was impossible to cut these stones with any instruments, and that these marks were those of the hands and feet of Mahommed. Of course we said nothing, and there were the marks quite evident, how done it is not for me to say, as I don't pretend to know. From the old mosque we rode all through the town, and saw a magnificent new mosque which the Pacha is building, and in which he is to be buried. It is the largest in Egypt, and is to consist almost entirely of white marble. From this we went to the Pacha's menagerie, a miserable affair, consisting of two lions, two lionesses, a leopard, a lynx, and two hyenas. The animals are fine, but the cages wretched; one of the lions had comfortably eaten his keeper two days before; but that, of course, is thought nothing of in Egypt,-at least our dragoman and the

DIARY OF A JOURNEY FROM ALEXANDRIA TO surviving keepers troubled themselves very little about

SUEZ.1

BY A CADET.

As may be supposed, we made ourselves very comfortable, and, after cating and drinking enough, we walked down to a small Arab village about a quarter of a mile distant, where we found our donkeys, mounted, and set off for Cairo rather faster even than we had left it in the morning; we supposed it was the effect of the cheese. However we got on very well till we reached the small stream before mentioned. This time we had no one to carry us over, our guides having deserted us as soon as they had received their Buch

(1) Continued from page 24.

it! The animals seemed all very savage, this lion espocially.

The Pacha's palace, which is open to travellers, was the next lion we went to see. It is, on the whole, rather a handsome building, though some of the rooms are tawdry to a degree; a few however are very fine. We also saw the old worthy's bed, and his bath, which still contained the water in which he had washed himself that morning; by the bye, it was rather dirty than

otherwise.

From the palace we went and examined mosques and other places of little note; but, as we had determined to see all that was to be seen, we of course omitted nothing. After this survey we bent our steps to the Turkish market, where we bought pipes, tobacco, red caps, and