DIED, At the residence of her husband, in Cam- | rations of nature, I was fortunately enabled, den county, N. J., on 4th day evening, the 9th from familiarity with sea enterprise, to pursue inst., HARRIETT, wife of James H. Redman, in the my observations with entire satisfaction." 37th year of her age. Deeply as we may deplore the early removal of one whose walk in life was beautiful, there is rich consolation in the belief that it was her abiding concern so to live, that the certain result of an insidious disease, might, through the adorable mercy and matchless loving kindness of her Saviour, find her prepared for the final change. THE ATLANTIC WAVE. At a recent meeting of the British Association, Dr. Scoresby gave an account of experiments, made by him, to ascertain the height and velocity of waves during a hard 'gale. The result was, that the average height was 15 feet and upwards; and the mean of the highest waves, not including the broken crests, about 43 feet above the level of the hollow occupied at the moment by the ship. The probable mean distance of the waves, or the width between crest and crest, was 559 feet; and the velocity was computed to be 32 miles per hour. These general results were confirmed by another speaker, whose experiments conducted many years since, had brought him to nearly similar conclusions. The following beautiful descrip. tion of the scene before him while engaged in his experiments, was given by Dr. Scoresby: AMELIORATION IN THE TREATMENT OF The men who have laboured in the cause of intellectual light or of moral health should stand on the pedestals that are usurped by more vulgar figures if we had the ordering of the world's of Howard, and give Watt the place of AlexanPantheon. We would depose Hannibal in favor der the Great. But the herald has not yet learned in England to shout the name of the philanthropists. The very darkness amid which these men labour is a cause which hides them clients of the philanthropists are for the most from him, who has an eye for colours. The part the low castes of the world, and they are not consulted in the distribution of the public crowns. It is greatly to the honour of a body of men who met last week at the house of Dr. Forbes of one of these workers in the by-ways of huthat they have undertaken to assert the title manity. For many years of his useful life Dr. Conolly has maintained the cause of the most neglected and stricken of all the children of misfortune; and therefore it is declared by a resolu John Conolly, of Hanwell, is, in the opinion of tion passed on the occasion in question that "Dr. this meeting, eminently entitled to some public "Illuminated as the general expanse not un- mark of esteem and gratitude, for his long, zealfrequently was by the transient sunbeam break-ous, disinterested, and most successful labours ing through the heavy masses of the storm-cloud, in ameliorating the treatment of the Insane." and contrasting its silvery light with the preva-To estimate the full amount of his title, the readlent gloom, yielding a wild and partial glare, the er must travel back to the recollection of what mighty hills of waters rolling and foaming as asylums for the lunatic were, before Dr. Conolly's they pursued us, whilst the gallant and buoyant time; when all the forms of insanity were treated ship-a charming 'sea-boat-rose abaft as by as cases of moral death,- -or worse, when men so intelligent anticipation of their attack, as she smitten were separated from human sympathies as scudded along, so that their irresistible strength of old were the wretches stricken with the plague. and fierce momentum were harmlessly spent be- But this was not all. To misfortune in the sadneath her and on her outward sides, the storm, dest of its shapes, was added pain in the meanest falling fiercely on the scanty and almost denuded of its forms. The wandering mind was addressed spars and steam chimney raised aloft, still indi- through the tortured body. The remedies tried cated its vast, but to us innoxious, power, in on the madman would drive a sane man mad. deafening roarings-altogether presented as grand The whip and the strait waistcoat were the prea storm-scene as I ever witnessed, and a magni- scriptions for his disease. Owing in a great deficent example of the works of the Lord,' spe-gree to the persevering efforts of Dr. Conolly, all cially exhibited to sea-going men, and his won- this is now at an end. The worst of maladies is ders in the deep.' In the afternoon of the same now divested of the worst of its features. That day the gale again increased, blowing, especially shadow, darker than the shadow of death, which during the continuance of a much protracted was supposed to fall for ever between the pahail-shower, terrifically,-roaring like thunder tient and the loving hearts without, is exorcised. whilst we scudded before it, causing the ship to "Lasciate ogni speranza voi che entrate," is no vibrate as by a sympathetic tremor, and the tops longer the legend over the madhouse door. The of rolling waves, too tardy, rapid as was their horrid counter-irritation of the whip is abolished, actual progress, for the speed of the assailing in--all fever-creating forms of personal restraint fluence, to be carried off and borne along on the are removed. ærial wings in a perfect shower of spray! But a dungeon. during the period of these most vehement ope- to the mind. The asylum is now a hospital, not Mental disease is treated by appeals Imperfect sympathies are nourish ed, broken memories sought to be repaired, old, familiar habits brought forward as mental prescriptions, the wandering intellect taken kindly by the hand, and by every rational means led gently towards home. All means of moral ac : tion on the diseased mind are resorted to the persuasion of music, the imaginative argument of drama, the power of old pursuit. Every chance is taken that a sudden gleam or effort of thought, struck out by this playing on old chords, may light, or lift, the mind back to the balance whence, in many instances, it was shaken none knows how or when. The spirit is treated, not as a lute that is stringless, but as one whose strings make discords. The wits are dealt with like "sweet bells out of tune." Now, even if the statistics of the matter did not confirm the suggestions of common sense as to the efficacy of this system of cure, think of the amount of positive happiness substituted thereby for the old infliction of pain. The door back into the world is left wide open, and the old voices and familiar looks come and go across its threshold. The spirits with which the now disordered intellect consorted in its sane time, cross and recross the lunatic's dim path who can know that one of them may not be suddenly recognized, and take its old acquaintance home? Who shall tell what accidental tone may recall the echoes? Who shall say how the capsized mind may right itself beneath some sudden upheaving of the heart?-At any rate, what are left to it of its powers are scientifically employed in the work of its own renovation,-and if the effort fail, what remains of its sympathies are made ministers to its enjoyment. Who knows, in the worst cases, what angel thought may walk the mental darkness, whispering consolation, and keeping down the demon, now that we have expelled "the seven spirits worse than himself" whom of old, man cruelly introduced to strengthen him?-So, we, too, are of opinion that Dr. Conolly is "eminently entitled to some public mark of esteem and gratitude," and that the world should pay him some portion of the debt of those who cannot pay it for themselves. Athenæum. From Dickens's Household Words. THE CHEMISTRY OF A CANDLE. The Wilkinsons were having a small party; it consisted of themselves and Uncle Bagges, at which the younger members of the family, home for the holidays, had been just admitted to assist after dinner. Uncle Bagges was a gentleman from whom his affectionate relatives cherished expectations of a testamentary nature. Hence the greatest attention was paid by them to the wishes of Mr. Bagges, as well as to every observation which he might be pleased to make. "Eh! what? you sir," said Mr. Bagges, facetiously addressing himself to his eldest nephew, Harry-"Eh! what? I am glad to hear, sir, that you are doing well at school. Now-eh! "Eh! very good, now!'pon my word, very good," exclaimed uncle Bagges. "You must be Lord Chancellor, sir-Lord chancellor, one of these days." "And now, uncle," asked Harry, who was a favorite with the old gentleman, can you tell me what you do when you put a candle out?" "Clap an extinguisher on it, you young rogue, to be sure." "Oh! but I mean, you cut of its supply of oxygen," said Master Harry. "Cut off its ox's-eh? what? I shall cut off your nose, young gentleman one of these fine days." "He means something he heard at the Royal Institution," observed Mrs. Wilkinson. "He reads a great deal about chemistry, and he attended Professor Faraday's lectures there on the chemical history of a candle, and has been full of it ever since.' "Now, you, sir," said Uncle Bagges, come you here to me, and tell me what you have to say about this chemical, eh? or comical; which? this comical chemical history of a candle." "He'll bore you, Bagges," said Mrs. Wilkinson. Harry, don't be troublesome to your uncle." "Troublesome! Oh, not at all. He amuses me. I like to hear him. So let him teach his old uncle the comicality and chemicality of a farthing rushlight." "A wax candle will be nicer, and cleaner, uncle, and answer the same purpose. There's one on the mantle-shelf. Let me light it." "Take care you don't burn your fingers, or set anything on fire," said Mrs. Wilkinson. "Now, uncle," commenced Harry, having drawn his chair to the side of Mr. Bagges, "we have got our candle burning. What do you see?" "Let me put on my spectacles," answered the uncle. "Look down on the top of the candle around the wick. See, it is a little cup full of melted wax. The heat of the flame has melted the wax just round the wick. The cold air keeps the outside of it hard, so as to make the rim of it. The melted wax in the little cup goes up through the wick to be burnt, just as oil does in the wick of a lamp. What do you think makes it go up, uncle?" "Why-why, the flame draws it up, doesn't it ?" "Not exactly, uncle. It goes up through little tiny passages in the cotton wick, because very, very small channels, or pipes, or pores, have the power in themselves of sucking up li quids. What they do it by is called cap-some-, "Yes, that's it; just as a sponge sucks up water, or a bit of lump-sugar the little drop of tea or coffee left in the bottom of a cup. But I mustn't say much more about this, or else you will tell me I am doing something very much like teaching my grandmother to-you know what." "Your grandmother, eh, young sharpshins?" "No-I mean my uncle. Now, I'll blow the candle out, like Moses; not to be in the dark, though, but to see into what it is. Look at the smoke rising from the wick. I'll hold a bit of lighted paper in the smoke, so as not to touch the wick. But see, for all that, the candle lights again. So this shows that the melted wax sucked up through the wick is turned into vapor, and the vapour burns. The heat of the burning vapour, keeps on melting more wax, and that is sucked up too within the flame and turned into vapor, and burnt, and so on till the wax is all used up, and the candle is gone. So the flame, uncle, you see, is the last of the candle, and the candle seems to go through the flame into nothing-although it doesn't, but goes into several things, and isn't it curious, as Professor Faraday said, that the candle should look so splendid and glorious in going away." "How well he remembers, doesn't he?" observed Mr. Wilkinson. "I dare say," proceeded Harry, "that the flame of the candle looks flat to you; but if we were to put a lamp glass over it, so as to shelter it from the draught, you would see it is round, round sideways, and running up to a peak. It is drawn up by the hot air; you know that hot air always rises, and that is the way smoke is taken up the chimney. What should you think was in the middle of the flame?" through the flame to the gas. The greatest heat of the candle is in this skin, or peel, or case of flame." "Case of flame!" repeated Mr. Bagges. "Live and learn. I should have thought a candle flame was as thick as my poor old noddle." "I can show you the contrary," said Harry. "I take this piece of white paper, look, and hold it a second or two down upon the candle flame keeping the flame very steady. Now I'll rub off the black of the smoke, and-there-you find that the paper is scorched in the shape of a ring; but inside the ring it is only dirtied, and not singed at all." "Seeing is believing," remarked the uncle. "But," proceeded Harry, "there is more in the candle flame than the gas that comes out of the candle. You know a candle wont burn without air. There must be always air around the gas, and touching it like to make it burn. If a candle hasn't got enough air, it goes out, or burns badly, so that some of the vapor inside of the flame comes out through it in the form of smoke, and this is the reason of a candle smoking. So now you know why a great clumsy dip smokes more than a neat wax candle; it is because the thick wick of the dip makes too much fuel in proportion to the air that can get to it." "Dear me! Well I suppose there is a reason for everything," exclaimed the young philosopher's mamma. "What should you say now," continued Harry, "if I told you that the smoke that comes out of a candle, is the very thing that makes a candle light? Yes, a candle shines by consuming its own smoke. The smoke of a candle is a cloud of small dust, and the little grains of the dust are bits of charcoal, or carbon, as chemists call it. They are made in the flame, and burned in the flame, and while burning, make the flame bright. They are burned the moment they are made; but the flame goes on making more of them as fast as it burns them; and that is how it keeps bright. The place they are made in, is in the case of flame itself, where the strongest heat is. The great heat separates them from the gas which comes from the melted wax, and, as soon as they touch the air on the outside of the thin "I should say, fire," replied Uncle Bagges. "Oh no! The flame is hollow. The bright flame we see is something no thicker than a thin peel, or skin; and it doesn't touch the wick. Inside of it is the vapor I told you of just now. If you put one end of a bent pipe into the middle of the flame, and let the other end of the pipe dip into a bottle, the vapor or gas from the can-case of flame, they burn." dle will mix with the air there; and if you set fire to the mixture of gas from the candle and air in the bottle, it would go off with a bang." "I wish you'd do that, Harry," said Master Tom, the younger brother of the juvenile lec turer. "Can you tell how it is that the little bits of carbon cause the brightness of the flame ?" asked Mr. Wilkinson. "Because they are pieces of solid matter," answered Harry. "To make a flame shine, there must always be some solid--or at least liquid matter in it." "Very good," said Mr. Bagges-"solid stuff necessary to brightness." "I want the proper things," answered Harry. “Well, uncle, the flame of the candle is a little shining case, with gas in the inside of it, and air on the outside, so that the case of flame is be- "Some gases and other things," resumed Harry, tween the air and the gas. The gas keeps going" that burn with a flame you can hardly see, into the flame to burn, and when the candle burn splendidly when something solid is put burns properly, none of it ever passes out through into them. Oxygen and hydrogen-tell me if I the flame; and none of the air ever gets in use too hard words, uncle-oxygen and hydrogen very gases, if mixed together and blown through a pipe, burn with plenty of heat but with little light. But if their flame is blown upon a piece of quick-lime, it gets so bright as to be quite dazzling. Make the smoke of oil of turpentine pass through the same flame, and it gives the flame a beautiful brightness directly." "I wonder," observed Uncle Bagges, "what has made you such a bright youth." "Taking after uncle, perhaps," retorted his nephew. "Don't put my candle and me out. Well, carbon or charcoal is what causes the brightness of all lamps, and candles, and other common lights; so, of course, there is carbon in what they are all made of." "So carbon is smoke, eh? and light is owing to your carbon. Giving light out of smoke, eh? as they say in the classics," observed Mr. Bagges. "But what becomes of the candle," pursued Harry, "as it burns away, where does it go?" "Nowhere," said his mamma, "I should think. It burns to nothing." "Oh, dear, no!" said Harry, "every thing every body goes somewhere." "Eh!-rather an important consideration that," Mr. Bagges moralized. "You can see it goes into smoke, which makes soot, for one thing," pursued Harry. "There are other things it goes into, not to be seen by only looking, but you can get to see them by taking the right means-just put your hand over the candle, uncle." "Thank be excused." you, young gentleman, I had rather "Eh? up." Oh! I'm no hand at riddles. Give it "No riddle at all, uncle. The part that comes from the wax isn't water, and the part that comes from the air isn't water, but when put together they become water. Water is a mixture of two things, then. This can be shown. Put some iron wire or turnings into a gun-barrel open at both ends. Heat the middle of the barrel redhot in a little furnace. Keep the heat up, and send the steam of boiling water through the redhot gun-barrel. What will come out at the other end of the barrel won't be steam; it will be gas, which doesn't turn to water again when it gets cold, and which burns if you put a light to it. Take the turnings out of the gun barrel, and you will find them changed to rust, and heavier than when they were put in. Part of the water is the gas that comes out of the barrel, the other part is what mixes with the iron turnings, and changes them to rust, and makes them heavier. You can fill a bladder with the gas that comes out of the gun-barrel, or you can pass bubbles of it up into a jar of water turned upside down in a trough, and as I said, you can make this part of the water burn." "Eh?" cried Mr. Bagges. "Upon my word! One of these days, we shall have you setting the Thames on fire." (To be continued.) POWER OF MATERNAL LOVE. deceive, and the very character and terms of the statement forbid the suspicion of its being made up. We have seldom met with a more impressive illustration of the power of love over hard hearts. The following narrative is well authenticated. A correspondent of the London Morning "Not close enough to burn you, uncle; higher Chronicle, heard the statement from a woman up. There you feel a stream of hot air; so who had been to Sydney under a sentence of transsomething seems to rise from the candle. Sup-portation. There could have been no motive to pose you were to put a very long, slender gasburner over the flame, and let the flame burn just within the end of it, as if it were a chimney, some of the hot steam would go up and come out at the top, but a sort of dew would be left behind in the glass chimney, if the chimney was cold enough when you put it on. There are ways of collecting this sort of dew, and when it is collected, it turns out to be really water. I am not joking, uncle. Water is one of the things which the candle turns into in burning water coming out of fire. A jet of oil gives above a pint of water in burning. In some lighthouses they burn, Professor Faraday says, up to two gallons of oil in a night; and if the windows are cold, the steam from the oil, clouds the inside of the windows, and, in frosty weather, freezes into ice." "Water out of a candle, eh?" exclaimed Mr. Bagges. "As hard to get, I should have thought as blood out of a post. Where does it come from ?" "Part from the wax, and part from the air, and yet not a drop of it comes either from the air or the wax. What do you make of that, uncle ?" it "This woman was a Roman Catholic, and was, when in England, under the care of Mrs. Fry, a woman whose name is endeared to every benevolent mind. In speaking of that lady, she said: "We (the Roman Catholics) looked upon her with doubt; and this fear on our part made her do less good amongst us than she otherwise would; for, bad as we were, we looked upon as the last fall to give up our faith. Now, she had a remarkable way with her-a sort of speaking that you could hardly help listening to, whether you would or not; for she was not only good, but downright clever. Well, just to avoid listening when she was speaking or reading, I learnt to count twelve backwards and forwards, so that my mind might be quite taken up, and I actually went on until I could thus count 600 with great ease. It was a pity we had such a dread. Well, she had a way of speaking to one of us alone, and I was anxious to shuffle this lecture; the fact was I expected she would put Mine was dead. She left this world believing me past hope; but the picture of her grief made me earnest in search of that peace which endureth for ever."-S. School Journal. NOTES ON LIONS. many questions, and, as I respected her character too much, altogether, to tell her a lie, I kept from the sermon, as we in derision used to call it. But when she was taking leave of us, she just called me on one side, saying she would like to speak a few words to me; 'so,' says I to myself, 'caught at last!' Well, she came close to me, and looking at me in a very solemn sort of One of the most striking things connected with way, she laid her hand upon my shoulders, and the lion is his voice, which is extremely grand gave me a pressure that told that she felt for me; and peculiarly striking. It consists at times of a her thumbs were set firm and hard on my shoul- low, deep moaning, repeated five or six times, ders, and yet her fingers seemed to have a ending in faintly audible sighs; at other times he feeling of kindness for me: it was no lecture startles the forest with loud, deep-toned, solemn she gave me; all she said was, 'Let not roars, repeated five or six times in quick succesthy eyes covet.' No other words passed her sion, each increasing in loudness to the third or lips; but then her voice was slow and awful; fourth, when his voice dies away in five or six kind as a mother's, yet just like a judge. Well, low muffled sounds very much resembling diswhen I got to the colony, I went on right tant thunder. At times, and not unfrequently, enough for a time; but one day I was look-a troop may be heard roaring in concert, one asing into a work-box belonging to my mistress, suming the lead, and two, three, or four more and the gold thimble tempted me. It was on regularly taking up their parts, like persons my finger and in my pocket in an instant; and singing a catch. Like our Scottish stags just as I was going to shut down the box-lid, as they roar loudest in cold, frosty nights; but sure as I am telling you, I felt Mrs. Fry's on no occasion are their voices to be heard thumbs on my shoulders-the gentle, pleading in such perfection, or so intensely powerful, as touch of her fingers. I looked about me- when two or three strange troops of lions apthrew down the thimble-and trembled with proach a fountain to drink at the same time. terrror to find I was alone in the room. Care- When this occurs, every member of each troop less, insolent, and bad enough, I became often sounds a bold roar of defiance at the opposite in the Factory. Well, do you see, at night we parties; and when one roars, all roar together, used to amuse each other by telling our tricks-and each seems to vie with his comrades in the egging one another on in vice. Amongst us we intensity and power of his voice. The power had one uncommon bright girl-a first-rate mi- and grandeur of these nocturnal forest concerts mic, and she used to make us roar with laugh- is inconceivably striking and pleasing to the ter. Well, this fun had been going on for hunter's ear. The effect, I may remark, is greatmany weeks; she had gone through most of her ly enhanced when the hearer happens to be sitcharacters, from the governor to the turnkey, uated in the depths of the forest, at the dead when she commenced taking off Parson Cowper hour of midnight, unaccompanied by any attendand Father Therry. Some way, it did not take, ant, and ensconced within twenty yards of the so she went back to Newgate, and came to Mrs. fountain which the surrounding troops of lions Fry to the very life, but it would not do; we are approaching. Such has been my situation did not seem to enjoy it-there was no fun in it many scores of times; and though I am allowed So then she began about the ship's leav- to have a tolerable good taste for music, I consider ing, and our mothers crying and begging of us the catches with which I was then regaled as the to turn over a new leaf; and then, in a mimic-sweetest and the most natural I ever heard. As ing, jesting sport, she sobbed and bade us good a general rule, lions roar during the night; their bye. Well, how it happened I know not, but, sighing moans commencing as the shades of one after the other, we began to cry; and 'Stay, evening envelope the forest, and continue at stay! not my mother,' said one. Let Mrs. Fry intervals throughout the night. In distant and alone. Father Therry must not be brought secluded regions, I have constantly heard them here, nor Parson Cowper-stay, stay.' Well, roaring loudly as late as nine and ten o'clock on she did stop; but tears were shed the whole of a bright sunny morning. In hazy and rainy that night. Every thing had been tried with weather they are to be heard at every hour in me. Good people had sought in vain to con- the day, but their roar is subdued. It often vince me of my evil ways; but that girl's ridi- happens that when two strange male lions meet cule of my mother I could not stand. Her grief at a fountain, a terrific combat ensues, which not was brought home to me, and not to me alone, unfrequently ends in the death of one of them. but to many. I do believe that night was a The habits of the lion are strictly nocturnal; great blessing to many. I was so unhappy, that during the day he lies concealed beneath the the next day I tried to get out of sight to pray; shade of some low bushy tree or wide spreading and when I got to a hiding-place, I found three bush, either in the level forest or on the mountain girls on their knees. We comforted each side. He is also partial to lofty reeds or fields. other; and then how we spoke of our mothers!' of long rank yellow grass, such as occur in low for us. |