THE better illumination of lighthouses has, for several years past, occupied the attention of the scientific world, as may be seen by reference to an excellent paper in one of our recent volumes, and, as may be recollected by every one familiar with the proceedings of the late Parliament. In this paper, and the Report from the Select Committee on Lighthouses, ordered, by the House of Commons, to be printed, August 8, 1834, the superior economy of the French method of lighting over the English, has been established so firmly as to encourage the hope of its adoption in place of our present expensive *Mirror, vol. xxiii. p. 249. C ..VOL. XXV. system. And, in all documents and evidence upon the Inquiry, the Tower of Cordovan, (or Corduan, as printed in the Report,) has been represented as the best illuminated lighthouse in France, and, according to general suppo sition, "the finest light in the world." A view of this building, and some particulars of its internal economy, may, therefore, be acceptable to our readers. The Tower is situate at the mouth of the Garonne,† one of the noblest rivers of southern The Garonne rises in the valley of Adan, in Catalonia, between Valentine and St. Gandens; where its course changes from the north-west to the north-east, it receives the Ger: it receives several other small streams before it comes to Toulouse, at 701 France, and adjoins the town of Cordovan. The Engraving shows the east-south-east view, and is copied from a print, the original of which was engraved by order of Louis XIII. The nature of the river rendered such a provision as a lighthouse indispensable: for, "the shoals in the Garonne, between its mouth and Bourdeaux, are innumerable, and of so dangerous a nature, that few ships that get on them are ever able to get off: the bottom being a soft mud, and sandy, they make a bed for themselves, and in a tide's time are swallowed up. The tide flows up nearly thirty leagues from the mouth of the river, and it is said that when it is flowing in, there appear two different levels on the surface; that which is towards the sea being considerably higher than that which is towards the source of the river."* The method of lighting the Tower of Corduan is that usually adopted in France, the chief characteristic of which is the lens, while the English lights are fitted with parabolic reflectors; both systems are, however, by lamps. The French lens was first proposed (from a suggestion of Sir David Brewster,) by M. M. Arago and Fresnel, in 1818. The lantern has eight sides, which form an octagonal prism around the lamp; the centre of each side being occupied by a plano-convex lens, somewhat similar to a burning-glass. The light is in the centre of the lantern, and the lamp has three concentric wicks, the external one having a diameter of three and a-half inches. Other details of the light will be found in the paper already quoted from the United Service Journal: such has been its success that M. Fresnel kept a four-fold socket lamp lighted for fourteen hours without snuffing it, and the rays thrown by a lens placed before it, had at the end of this time, only diminished one-sixth of their original intensity. The light is revolving, and, pro bably, the finest in the world. By the Appendix to the Parliamentary Report already referred to, we find that Sir David Brewster has obtained from M. Fres nel a detailed estimate of the expense of fitting up a lighthouse with the lens apparatus, including all the necessary machinery and utensils, in use at the magnificent esta blishment of Corduan. The optical part consists of nine lenses, thirty inches in dia which place it again turns to the north-west; it afterwards forms an island, and receives the Sarabel Granada. On its junction with the Tarn, it changes its course to the west. Several other streams fall into it, but none of any considerable note before it arrives at Bourdeaux. Below this city, it forms several islands, and receives the Dordogne, which rises in the mountains of Auvergne; after their junction both lose their names, and are called together the Gironde. The Gironde euters the sea near the town of Cordovan, by two channels; and the whole course of the river is about 250 miles. It begins to be navigable about Toulouse; from whence to Bourdeaux it carries the largest boats.-Brewster's Cyclopædia, art. Karen Ibid. meter; nine smaller lenses, with their reflectors, for widening the main beam of light; and another piece of apparatus for collecting the light that falls below the lenses. The expense of this part of the apparatus was 16,500 francs, or 6871. 10s. The mechanical part consists of all the framework and revolving_apparatus, with three Carcel's lamps. The expense of this part is 9,500 francs, or 3957. 16s. 8d. making the total amount 26,000 francs, or 1,0837. 6s. 8d. M. Fresnel then proceeds to show the comparative economy of the Corduan light over that used in our northern lights. Now, the expense of a reflecting apparatus, with twentyfour reflectors, is 1,3877., making a saving of 3037. 13s. 6d. in favour of the lenses, or of 4137., reckoning 1107. as the value of the plate-glass ceval in the lantern for lenses. The saving will be increased to 5137., because 100%. may be made by substituting a certain invention for the Carcel lamps, or by introducing gas. If these twenty-four reflectors be arranged in groups of six, then the brightest light which at any one time reaches the eye, is that of six reflectors, which is repeated four times in each revolution; whereas, in the lens apparatus, we have light equal to nine reflectors, repeated eight times during each revolution, besides the additional light of the eight smaller lenses, and that of the other piece of apparatus. Hence, it is demonstrable, that the lens apparatus is not only 413, or eventually 5134., cheaper than the reflector apparatus, but gives a more intense and penetrating light. But, independent of these enormous advantages, the lens apparatus is perennial, while the other requires to be renewed.† In the Minutes of Evidence taken before the Select Committee, we, however, find that Mr. Robert Stevenson does not think the Corduan light better than every other in England. Lieutenant Drummond, who has devoted more time to the subject than any recent inquirer, especially in connexion with his oxy-hydrogen light, thus explains the additional apparatus of the Corduan light: that portion of the light of the lamp which escapes the lens placed in front of it, is caught by another and smaller lens placed above it, and then again reflected in a horizontal line, parallel to the beam of the original lens. Lieutenant Drummond also inclines to believe that the French lamp, on the whole, will be most useful; for the greatest brilliancy of each being nearly the same, and the proportion of light to darkness in one revolution being also very nearly equal, though differently distributed, it appears that the other advantages of the French method in point of economy and facility of management, entitle it to a decided preference over the English. + Appendix to Report II. Northern Lights. Minutes of Commissioners regarding Lens Apparatus The Nobelist. NEW ARABIAN TALES. [A FEW years since, M. J. J. Marcel, trauslated and published in Paris, from the Arabic, Contes Arabes du Cheikh al Mohdy. Their success has induced the editor to revise and improve them, and to add to them "Conversations in the Moristan, or Revelations of the Lunatic Asylum at Cairo." As a specimen, we find extracted and translated in the Foreign Quarterly Review, the following history of Rafif, the squinting astrologer of Alexandria. The editor has judiciously selected this portión both because it illustrates the customs and superstitions of the East more vividly than any other, and because it introduces us to Jezzar Pacha, one of our " ancient allies," who, assisted by Sir Sidney Smith, beat off Napoleon from Acre, and thus materially aided in frustrating the French expedition to Egypt. Rafíf excited the attention of his auditors by declaring that he came to the Moristan in consequence of a quarrel with the sun, moon, and stars. Such a preface appeared an evidence of insanity, but the audience heard it unmoved: and thus follows Rafíf's narrative.] I am a native of Smyrna: the circumstances of my infancy have left such a feeble impression on my memory that I can with difficulty recall them. Moreover I remember perfectly, that from my earliest infancy the first object that struck my view was a piece of red cloth, suspended from my little turban, which hung over my forehead in the shape of a tongue, falling so exactly between my eyes that the pupils were constantly directed towards it by an involuntary attraction. My mother, full of tender fears, had used this means as an efficacious talisman to ward off the danger of the evil eye, which might be turned upon me. I did not lay aside this amulet until I was nine years old, when, being admitted into the congregation of the faithful, I had acquired a right to the protection of our holy prophet, and the evil eye could no longer injure one of whom our divine religion was the parent and guardian. My father was secretary to the kadi of Smyrna. He designed me to be his successor, when age and education had qualified me for the place. He was especially anxious to instruct me in jurisprudence, and no sooner was I able to read than he placed in my hands the works of the most celebrated Mohammedan lawyers. I had no taste for the study thus recommended to me, and I confess that I preferred the sports of my youthful companions to dry studies on law and equity. Whenever I could make my escape, I went to sport with my comrades, sometimes in the fields, sometimes in the gardens that surround the city. Detained all day in court by his professional avocations, my father was ignorant of my constant truancy; and my mother, who loved me with all the mistaken fondness shown to an only child, was careful to conceal my faults. In our meetings, each of my companions had a nickname; they called me, I know not why, the squinter, and I have been so accustomed to the title that I have kept it to this day. I had reached my sixteenth year without troubling myself much about the future, when all my father's hopes were suddenly overthrown-the kadi, his protector, was dis graced, all his property confiscated by the Divan of Constantinople, and he was forced to resign his dignity to a successor sent from the capital. The new dignitary, though a Turk by birth, showed some regard for his predecessor, and seeing that the confiscation of his property had deprived him of all resources, he generously offered him the post which my father had hitherto occupied. The old kadi was but too happy to accept an offer which came so luckily to extricate him from his difficulties; and my father becoming the chief victim of these double reverses of fortune, was so deeply grieved, that in eight days I followed him to the tomb. My mother, who had been ailing long before, did not long survive her hus band, and I suddenly found myself an orphan, with no prospect but the deepest misery. I knew nothing; I had no means of procuring the necessaries of life; my former comrades were too young to give me any assistance; I had only some distant relations, who cruelly refused me even a lodging. One of them, more compassionate than the rest, was pleased at least to give me some advice; he counselled me to address the new kadi, implore his pity, and solicit the lowest place in his household, the meanest occupation that could afford me the means of subsistence. I hasted to follow this advice; want, which I now felt bitterly, permitted neither hesitation nor delay. I ran to the kadi's door; I solicited and obtained permission to appear in his presence. I found him seated on cushions in a corner of a large saloon, and in the opposite corner was the old kadi dis charging the duties which were once per formed by my father. The physiognomy of my future protector appeared favourable, and seemed to promise a happy result. I made my request, which I deemed it right to accompany with the most extravagant eulogiums, declaring him the most illustrious of all kadis, past, present, and future, the only man on earth capable of filling such an exalted office, eclipsing the glory of all his prede cessors, and depriving his successors for ever of all hope of displaying similar merit. During my harangue, the expression of his return. countenance totally changed; by degrees his the harbour, reflecting on my sorrowful posibrow darkened, his eyes sparkled, and, finally, tion; not knowing where I could procure his voice was raised against me with all the shelter for the night, whose shades were fury of the most violent indignation. He thickening around me, nor food for my empty fiercely reproached me with having been sent stomach, which was manifesting its uneaby his enemies to insult him at his own tri-siness by audible grumblings. My glances bunal, asserting that my praises were address- were mechanically turned to my left over the ed to the old kadi, towards whom he declared long promontory which, extending into the that my looks were constantly directed, sea, closed the gulf on that side and hid though, as I have already said, he sat at a from view the summits of the lofty moundistance on the opposite side of the room." tains of Kribrús (Cyprus). All at once I He would not listen to any apology or expla- saw near me a tall, stiff, and meagre figure, nation, and the only result of my audience which seemed to me a real ghost. This was to be forcibly ejected from the mansion being, whose approach I had not observed, where I hoped to find a refuge, with orders and whose presence froze me with horror, to quit the city immediately, and never to had two piercing eyes, a countenance of cada verous paleness; his bones seemed ready to burst through a skin as dry as parchment; his brows were thick and beetling, and a long, white beard hung in wild disorder below his chest; he wore a dark coloured robe, and his motions were as precise and regular as if they had been the result of machinery. His eyes were fixed on the starry heavens, and he directed his view successively to different stars, using instruments of curious con. struction, the like of which I had never seen. I felt assured that this strange being was a magician, practising some of his diabolical arts, and I expected that the evil genii would immediately assemble around him in obe➡ dience to his necromantic spells. Fear kept me motionless: I kept my eyes fixed upon him, attentively watching his movements; they were all new to me, and I expected momentarily to become their victim. My danger appeared to increase when I saw this mysterious and awful being lower his looks to me, and his glance met mine. In the course of the same evening the old kadi, who, as it seems, had made a similar mistake, sent secretly to thank me for the courage with which I had maintained his superiority over his successor, and displayed his gratitude by sending me some provisions and a small sum of money, adding that he would secure me a passage on board a vessel which was to sail the following morning. I had lost by some unforeseen error the protection I had sought, and I did not conceive it necessary, by confessing the truth, to reject the unexpected patronage which, by the same error, I had involuntarily procured. In fact, my design was, by praising the new kadi and exalting him far above his predecessor, to take vengeance for my father and myself at the same time, whose modest place he had usurped; and assuredly I was far from imagining that he would mistake this part of my address for flattery. But by some inexplicable fatality my designs were frustrated; my praise was mistaken for reproach -my reproach for praise. I made inquiries about the ship to which I had been recommended; she lay at the entrance of the harbour, and I instantly went on board. The captain had received notice of my coming, and employed me as his attendant during the trip. Our voyage was not long; our destination was Iskanderùn (Alexandretta), and in five days we reached that Syrian port without encountering any danger. I was engaged, as I have said, by the captain only for the trip. As soon as he had cast anchor, he informed me that he had taken me on board only out of complaisance to the old kadi, and directed me to seek a new master in the town which we had just reached. As I had no luggage, my disembarkation was easily effected; during the rest of the day I wandered through the streets and bazaars of Iskanderùn; no one spoke to me, and I did not dare to address any body. When evening came, I sat down sorrowfully at the end of the long pier which forms The reader must remember that Rafif squinted. After some moments of mutual and silent observation, during which drops of cold perspiration streamed from my forehead, he addressed me in a hoarse voice, whose tones, however, were not at all menacing. "Friend," said he, " I see with pleasure that you share my tastes and pursuits; during the last half hour, perceive that your looks have been directed towards that brilliant sky which extends its splendid canopy over the summit of Mount Taurus, and now your eyes, directed to the zenith, seem anxious to penetrate through the group of nebulous stars directly over our heads. Tell me, which is the constellation that has thus engaged your attention." Reassured by hearing a human voice from this frightful body, which I had taken for some supernatural being that haunted this solitary place, I was about to reply, but he did not give me time. "You may," he continued, bless your fate and the constellations that protect you: I am the celebrated Abdal-nejúm (servant of the stars), whose high acquirements in astronomy have procured him the surname al Feleky (the Celestial). 66 ... Perceiving you just now with your eyes fixed on the starry heaven, I easily divined that you were impelled by some insurmountable impulse to my favourite study. I immediately observed with care the aspect of the heavens, I have found it favourable to you, and it has enjoined me to cultivate your taste for such exalted knowledge. Come then with confidence, my son; Abd-al-nejúm will, in your company, penetrate the palace of science; come with me, my house shall be your residence and your academy." (To be continued.) The Naturalist. Grecian mansion occupies the site of an ancient castellated house, which, encircled by water, and accessible only by a drawbridge, must have been, before the use of cannon, an impregnable strong-hold. During the civil wars of Cromwell and Charles I., this family, staunch adherents to the house of Stuart, defied old Noll's vengeance, and gal lantly kept his forces for some time at bay, though the venerable castle was reduced almost to a heap of ruins. All that now remains to tell the tale of its former chivalry is an ivy-clad tower. This tower will be visited with no small interest and curiosity by the ornithologist. The days of rapine and violence having happily passed away, never, we hope, to return, this tower, SOME ACCOUNT OF WALTON HALL, THE SEAT by many ingenious devices and contrivances, OF CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ.-BY JAMES STUART MENTEATH, ESQ., OF CLOSEBURN HALL.* "The birds, Securely there they build, and there WALTON HALL, a place that must, like Selborne, be ever dear to the lover of ornithology, from the many attractive objects it presents in the way of that engaging pursuit, is situated in the parish of Sandal-Magna, about four miles from Wakefield, in the county of York. This district of country forms part of the great coal formation of Yorkshire. The soil usually overlying the coal stratification is a clay, which, being of a stiff, tenacious texture, is unfriendly to the better kinds of herbage, unless it be extensively drained, and well mixed with calcined limestone; but the clayey soil of the park of Walton rests immediately upon a thick stratum of the coal sandstone, which, mouldering down, yields it a due proportion of siliceous earth, and makes it an excellent soil for the growth of the richer species of grasses. Trees of nearly all kinds flourish luxuriantly upon it. Among these, especially, the sweet Spanish chestnut, one of our most valuable trees, and in the present day far too little encouraged as forest timber, is this year profusely laden with fruit, not much inferior to that which is imported from the south of Europe. The climate is equally favourable with the soil for the growth of the delicate kinds of vegetation. The vine grows on walls in the open air, and scarcely ever fails to bear each season tolerable grapes; this year there has been an abundant crop of as fine grapes as those raised under glass. The sweet-water and black Hamburgh vines are the only varieties that have been cultivated. Walton Hall stands upon an island included in a small lake well stocked with fish, and has been the residence of the Watertons time out of mind. The present elegant Abridged from the Magazine of Natural History. has been made a commodious and undisturbed habitation for many a family of the feathered race. In a snug corner, thickly grown over with ivy, can be seen in any day of the year, a pair of common white owls taking their nap; and, at night, the ears of the admirer of such music may enjoy their nocturnal serenades. "From yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain, Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient, solitary reign." During the breeding season, every movement of this industrious couple may be overlooked from the windows of the hall, as they flit to and fro to cater for their hungry young family. Though the owl finds in this tower an unmolested haunt, the pretty starling, the blackbird, the thrush, the wild duck, the wood pigeon, "sweet sequestered bird," and several others, reposing a confidence in the humane owner which is never abused, resort to this delightful retreat, either to enjoy the shelter or to bring up their young. Leaving the venerable tower and its inhabitants to enjoy that quiet which nothing disturbs, let us enter the hospitable mansion. Its doors are ever open to the poorest visiter who craves a view of its rare and curious collection of objects of natural history; and nothing is allowed to be offered to any domestic who attends in this Mr. Waterton sets a noble example to others, who suffer their servants to receive money. Among the most choice of the rarities of this collection none are more interesting than the birds. "Their plumage, neither dashing shower, the amiable wanderer, who, often at the hazard of his life, and suffering dangers by land and water, while exploring the wilds of South America, got them together. The fierce, ill-looking cayman or crocodile, |