wire, and all is ready for the next sheaf. Whether this contrivance is likely to be as useful as it is ingenious, we leave to agriculturists to decide; but whatever may be the opinion of farmers, we think that poets and painters would protest against the use of iron-bound wheat-sheaves.-Another Yankee notion is an inner shoe-sole, through which damp cannot rise to the foot. It consists of a thin brass plate placed between two slices of wood, all held together by eyelets, which, as the inventor describes, admit a circulation of air.

The New Jersey Zinc Company (United States) manufacture a peculiar kind of white pig iron, which has been discovered to possess a remarkable property. If this be coarsely pulverised and sprinkled on a red or white hot bar of wrought iron, the powdered pig iron melts and flows entirely over the surface of the bar, producing a sort of case-hardened enamel, which resists the edge of tools. It is thought that ornamental surfaces of cast iron may be enamelled in a similar way. In a discussion which took place on the reading of a paper on Ropemaking, before the Institution of Mechanical Engineers at Birmingham, certain facts were mentioned which will interest persons who use ropes in their business. It had been found by experience that hemp-ropes made by hand were stronger than those made by machinery; hence the use of the machines had been given up at Deptford Dockyard. The strength of different kinds of hemp is thus stated: taking the breaking-weight of St Petersburg hemprope at 100, that of Italian hemp-rope is 107, and of Manilla rope, 73. Tarred rope is weaker than untarred, other circumstances being the same, for the quality of the tar seriously affects the strength of the rope. Hence the strongest ropes are hawser-laid or threestrand ropes made of untarred Italian or Russian hemp. Comparing metal with hemp: an iron wirerope 1 inch diameter broke with a weight of 18 tons: a hemp-rope to bear the same load would require to be nearly 3 inches diameter; it would weigh 16 pounds to the fathom, while a fathom of the wire-rope would not weigh more than 10 pounds. One of the latest wire-rope-making machines will turn out 10,000 yards of strand in 10 hours: four times the quantity of former machines. Steel wireropes are from 10 to 50 per cent. stronger than ropes of iron wire; but both become brittle by use, for the same reason that railway-carriage axles become brittle-namely, through the crystallisation produced by long-continued friction. Hemp-ropes do not crystallise; but beyond a certain depth, a hemprope used for winding in a pit would kill itself; that is, the great weight of the rope itself hanging down the pit, and the consequent continued stretching every time it was lowered, would eventually cause it to become almost rotten.' It is possible, however, by greater care in the process of manufacture, to increase the strength of hempen ropes. A compound rope strengthened by metal is sometimes made; it contains a wire in the centre of each yarn; and these yarns are spun into ropes in the ordinary way.

The Society of Arts have been discussing Submarine Telegraphs, the Growth of Cotton in India, and Cooking Dépôts for the Working Classes. The last subject was well supported by reference to what has been accomplished at Glasgow, where fourteen dépôts have been opened to supply breakfasts and dinners to the working-classes, good in quality and moderate in price. At these places, a breakfast may be had for a penny, or for fourpence; and a dinner for the same sum, well cooked, and served with proper regard to order and cleanliness. The success has been so complete, that we hope to see other large towns following the example of Glasgow. Good cookery has a civilising influence; it checks the craving for the stimulus of alcoholic drinks.

Dr Frankland's lecture on Artificial Illumination, delivered at the Royal Institution, was an able exposi

tion of the progress made in that branch of art during the past ten years. Within that period, the electric light had been successfully introduced for the illumi nation of light-houses, as at the South Foreland. Gas had been improved; so much so, that the objectionable sulphur compounds so much complained of in ordinary gas could now be got rid of by heating the gas with hydrate of lime, during the process of manufacture, up to a temperature of 400 degrees. A heretofore unknown compound of coal-gas-acetylene-had been discovered by Berthelot, a French chemist, which it is thought will have great influence on the manufac ture of gas in future. Then there was the rock-oil, of which already 180,000,000 gallons had been exported from Canada alone; and Dr Frankland places this oil and paraffine foremost among substances useful for ordinary illuminating purposes. But it requires a properly constructed lamp; and the lecturer exhibited one with a modification introduced by himself, which consists of an outside cylinder wherein the air becomes heated, and in turn heats the pipe through which the oil or gas passes; hence the atmosphere and the burning fluid meet at a high temperature. By this means, a better light is produced with a saving of cost. Dr Frankland thinks that the course of scientific investi gation will some day lead to the discovery of a process by which the heat of coal will be transferred directly into light and electricity.

We observe that a communication has been made to the Franklin Institute of Philadelphia, which is likely to be interesting to paper-makers, as it describes a fibrous plant, possessed, so far as we can judge, of the qualities so much desired by all who own papermills. The plant is one of the malvaceous or mallow tribe, known to botanists as the Hibiscus Moscheutos or palustris, and grows well on swampy grounds which the ordinary farmer regards as waste. It is indigenous in some of the northern United States, and has been named American jute; but it is entirely different from the plant which produces the jute of India. The person by whom its qualities were discovered sowed an acre of ground in the neighbourhood of Burlington, New Jersey, with Hibiscus seeds; the plants grew well, unmolested by insects, and the estimate is that the acre will yield three and a half tons of fibre. It appears further, that the fibre can be easily sepa rated from the pith: for rope-making it is said to be superior to Manilla hemp; and the paper-makers of Philadelphia consider it worth one hundred dollars a ton as a substitute for rags. Specimens of the rope were laid before the Institute, and an examination of the fibre led to the conclusion that it would be suitable for various kinds of woven goods.

WHAT A LITTLE BIRD' (OR TWO) HAS TOLD ME ABOUT HIMSELF.

ANY one who has been tempted to indulge in a good country ramble, on one of those fine days-so calm, serene, and beautiful-with which we are sometimes favoured towards the end of October, must have been struck with surprise at the unusual silence that prevails around. The most superficial observer of the common objects of the country-which can be made so uncommonly interesting to those who will hear and see-cannot have failed to notice, and lament, the absence of those familiar voices which, but a very short time ago, were wont to make the woods and valleys vocal with their melodies. The glad full chorus that attended his footsteps during a corresponding walk in May, has gradually declined in volume, until, with rare exceptions, it has dwindled into a solo by Mr Cockrobin, whose broken, and somewhat melancholy strain, with its fitful intervals of silence, is not unlike an attempt to sing an elaborate air from some oratorio without the necessary accompaniment. How is this? Why should spring have so many jubilant anthems chanted in her praise, and autumn be almost destitute of music?

It is true that many of our sweet singers, with an instinctive dread of the severity of an English winter, have winged their mysterious flight to sunnier and far-distant lands. The blackcap, the twittering swallow, and the fussy little whitethroat (whose song is said by some authorities to rival that of the nightingale, and by others, to be harsh and unpleasant, so much do doctors differ), have departed. Many of the finest of our feathered musicians, however, still remain, but have altogether lost the power or the disposition to chant. There is the thrush, for instance, the prince of our northern songsters, with his brown back and finely speckled breast, living a much wilder life now than he did when encumbered with the cares of a rising family. He holds his whiskered bill well up in the air, and has an expression of astonishment in his widely opened eyes, as if he was always 'quite surprised at meeting you here;' but his magnificent song, as remarkable for its amazing power, as for the variety and suddenness of its transitions, is now no longer heard echoing through the valley. There is the blackbird, with his glossy clerical suit-grown somewhat rusty-and his bright yellow bill-'golden dagger,' as

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Tennyson, thinking of his stabbed fruit, appropriately terms it; but his rich mellow music-distinguishable from that of the thrush by being mostly pitched in a lower key, by less abruptness, and by an apparent want of freedom in delivery, as if he had got a small pea under his tongue, or had some other impediment in his speech that prevented a free articulation-his noble voice-the baritone among birdshas left him. He still gives vent occasionally to that loud laugh-like screech of his, when suddenly startled, and when flitting from bush to bush-with his tail spread out like a fan-which may have been the Rev. Gilbert White's reason for classing him among the birds that sing on the wing. There are plenty of larks, too, flying about, in small family groups, preparatory to gathering into large winter-flocks, but none of them seem to be ambitious to be taken for that

Ethereal minstrel, pilgrim of the sky! that Wordsworth mentions, which is said to be

Type of the wise who soar but never roam,

True to the kindred points of Heaven and home. Except now and then giving utterance to a sharp 'chirrup, chirrup,' as they chase each other in anger or in sport, they now are silent. There is the smart little chaffinch, too, fraternising with his late antagonists, and hopping about our country roads, to which he seems to be extremely partial. Though deserted by his faithless wife, he is apparently as active and as busy as ever. Still, his dapper summercoat has now lost much of its gloss, as if the first shock of grief at the flighty conduct of his partner, and mother of his family, had literally taken the shine out of him, and left him with the seedy, brokendown look of one who has seen better days. If he retains much of his animation, he has altogether forgotten that cheerful but rather monotonous ditty of his, which, beginning on a high note, came rattling down the scale to an abrupt finish. Even the melancholy yellowhammer now forgets to pipe his little lay; he no longer sits like a beggar by the roadside, pitifully bewailing his condition, informing passers-by in plaintive tones that he has 'very little bread, and no che-ese.'

This singular silence on the part of our native warblers at one season, compared with their volubility at another, has always been a puzzle to naturalists. Some have attempted to account for it

summer-sun as if the feathers were all tipped with jewels; and he is almost reduced to the dingy plainness of his modestly attired mate. Still, the difference between the two is sufficiently obvious to prevent mistakes; and as the separation of the sexes is by no means a complete one, there is always opportunity for comparison. I have noticed, too, that the proportion of hen-birds in a flock is always greater during hard frost or snow than when the weather is moderately mild. Notwithstanding his lively manner and his cheerful music, the chaffinch has never been a particular favourite in England-seldom being thought worthy of a cage, or of that place in our households so frequently occupied by some of his congeners. But in Germany, he holds a very different position. There, the chaffinch is as much esteemed for his song as an over-finely bred Belgian canary is among our English Fancy for his senseless shape. Dr Bechstein, in a note to his admirable Natural History of Cagebirds, says: Ruhl is a large manufacturing village in Thuringia, the inhabitants of which, mostly cutlers, have such a passion for chaffinches, that some have gone ninety miles from home to take with bird-lime one of these birds distinguished by its song, and have given one of their cows for a fine songster; from which has arisen their common expression, such a chaffinch is worth a cow. A common workman will give a louis d'or (sixteen shillings) for a chaffinch he admires, and willingly live on bread and water to gain the money. An amateur cannot hear one that sings in a superior style The Double Trill of the Harz without being in an ecstasy. I have heard them say that one which sings this melody perfectly, certainly can converse from its pronouncing the syllables so distinctly.'

The same author gives an elaborate description of eight of the many different varieties into which his enthusiastic countrymen have succeeded in dividing the songs of the chaffinch. Some of these melodies are subdivided again into four, and sometimes six varieties of different degrees of excellence; the bird that is able to sing perfectly The Double Trill of the Harz, which is composed of six strains, ending in the word Weingeh, or vinegay, being considered a prodigy. These subtle divisions of the music of one of our commonest wild-birds, who with us is reckoned 'no great shakes' as a singer, may appear fanciful enough to canary-loving Englishmen; but no one can help admiring the careful study and the nice musical ear necessary to discover so many shades of difference in the whistling of a common chaffinch. Should these particulars appear to some to be rather trivial, let us hope that others may be induced by them to take rather more interest than they have hitherto done in the smart little fellow, with the coat of many colours, hopping about our country walks, who, in return for their kindly notice, will not object to act the part of a living barometer, by giving warning of approaching rain.

The amateur-ornithologist, when taking his walks abroad in the land, in autumn and in winter, if he is not enlivened with the sweet music of his numerous feathered acquaintances, is never left altogether without amusement. If there is no longer their melodious conversation to listen to, and interpret, birds have other points of interest, the study of which, if not quite so engaging, will not be without profit. A very moderate practice will soon enable any one to distinguish many birds by their flight alone, long before they are near enough to do so by their shape and colour. Observation will discover almost as many peculiarities in their methods of locomotion, on the ground and in the air, as there is in their voices or their plumage. A group of small birds hopping about the yard or garden on a winter's day, in search of a stray seed or two, will disclose many points of difference in their gait, which a casual observer would never notice. Others that have the same way of moving over the ground, differ very

The

materially in their passage through the air. starling, the skylark, and the wagtail always run or walk when on the land-the last-named being the smallest of our walking birds-yet they all three differ much in their manner of flying. Starlings, who are always in a prodigious hurry, move steadily and rapidly along with regular strokes of the wing, in a kind of swimming motion, which, as they often fly together in considerable numbers, enables them to keep pretty close to each other. Skylarks have a fluttering uncertain manner, that gives to a flock in winter a somewhat confused and straggling appearance. Wagtails, who never move in very large companies, have a much more eccentric movement, passing through the air in a series of irregular bounds or curves, rising and falling gracefully, and every now and then giving vent to a sharp chirp, which appears to be their only attempt at music. They have a bold, confident style of flying, without any of that strange indecision which characterises the higher flights of some of our small birds, who, when startled to a greater height than usual, jerk about from side to side, as if utterly unable to make up their minds which way to steer. If the wagtail cannot be very highly recommended as a teacher of music, there is no bird better able to give lessons in agility. To watch him about the month of September, when he leaves the solitary water-courses he has haunted during summer, and takes to the fields in which cattle are grazing-to see him running about the nose of some old horse or cow, with whom he has a perfect understanding, and witness the marvellous dexterity with which he seizes his prey, is a treat, and a display of activity no mountebank can match.

If the birds already mentioned are not sufficient or interesting enough to engage the attention of our country rambler, let him, for a change, wend his way by the margin of some sluggish, unfrequented stream, and compare the slow but stately movements of the hungry heron with the dart-like rapidity of the snipe, or the heavy laboured flight of the wildduck, with its head stretched forth as if for balance; and if, with such a variety of entertainment, he still returns unsatisfied, his appetite for feathered novelty must be indeed prodigious.

6

ETIQUETTE.

A CERTAIN weekly review, in one of those beautiful articles upon social life for which it is so justly celebrated, once deigned to notice the Autobiography of a Bagman. The reviewer, accustomed, as usual, to mingle only with persons of the very first rank, and sitting, as it were, upon a cloud, above the tumult of the working-world, was so good as to allow that it was doubtful, after all, whether the middle classes (inclusive of Irish peers, baronets, and the borough members) did not enjoy life, upon the whole, as much as himself and other persons moving in the highest circles. There must be much vulgarity, of course,' said he (or words to that effect) in this class of creatures, but their rude pleasures are numerous, and they do not seem to be bound hand and foot, as we are, by the golden chains of etiquette.' There were many other lovely sentences, the precise terms of which I forget, but the whole essay had exactly the effect upon me which it was doubtless intended to have; I stood, as it seemed, a long way off, with downcast eyes, and thought how good it was of so great a man to contribute to periodical literature, and especially how graceful was his disavowal of any superiority in his high position, as respected the enjoyment of life. I thought this last was only affected by the writer out of delicacy (for which the paper with which he was connected is famous), in order to console persons like myself-in a humble position of life-for their low estate; but I have since come to the conclusion that, whether he meant to do so or not, he spoke the truth.