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table is covered with old books, in the wood boa-constrictors, sharks' jaws, sea-unicorns' and leather binding of the middle ages. The horns, and the pectinate snout of the saw-fish, following are the titles of a few :-"Book of we turned into a room known as Captain Psalms," in Latin, printed at Paris in 1488. Wordsworth's, from the fact of most of the "Saint Augustine on the Trinity," also in objects contained in it having been presented Latin, 1489. "Latimer's Sermons," 1562. by that gentleman, (a brother of the poet), to "Black-letter Bible," 1613; and, most inter- the museum. The most conspicuous object esting of all, as showing the perseverance of in it, is a large albatross, brought by him the monkish pen men, a neatly written "Ma- from the Cape of Good Hope. The room nuscript Church Catechism," in 233 closely- also contains a Polar bear, although indifferpenned pages, by C. B. Modest man! he ently stuffed; and many other interesting might have done future generations the kind- articles, which I could name; but as I have no ness of telling them the full name of him who, intention of writing a catalogue, I refrain, in 1622, spent so many days and months in leaving more unmentioned than my perseversuch a task. ance, or the reader's patience, would sanction. And now, while this little flash of sunshine lasts, let us run up the street to the Town Hall, first of course entering our names in the visitors' book, among many illustrious, and not a few, as yet, unknown autographs.
Here, too, we have battle-axes and other weapons of the ancient Celts, made mostly of stone, but a few good ones in bronze. Besides these, there are seven small cases of coins, some of them of great beauty. I can merely refer now to a gun, used in France The Town-hall of Keswick is rather an old before the invention of the double-barrel; piece of work, belonging to no particular and if not identical with, at least very similar order. It partakes, in its upper part, of the in principle to the far-famed "Colt's Revol- appearance of a church, which resemblance ver." Of course there are some hundreds is heightened by a steeple with a one-handed more of choice objects, generally looked at clock; while the lower, or ground flat, is nowith veneration as antiquities; but as my thing more than a dismal shed. Never mind antiquarian researches date long before the the building, but get inside; and here a large time of the Celts and Romans, I turn to table of irregular form, presenting no fewer real antiquities in the shape of fossils. Of than nine sides, forms the base-work of the these there is a by no means contemptible model; and supports, on a space about show. They consist of Stigmarias-one of thirteen feet by nine, some twelve hundred exceeding beauty-Calamites, Lepidoden- square miles of country; ranging from Seberdrons, Sigillarias, Sphenopteris, Neuropteris, ghan on the north to Rampside, beyond FurPecopteris, fine Ammonites, and not a few ness Abbey on the south; and from the long good bivalves. The collection of minerals con- straggling town of Shap, famous for the pecutains, I believe, all the rocky productions of liar granite of the district, on the east; exCumberland, and forms on a small scale, a tending to Egremont on the west, the former complete museum of the Economic Geology distance being fifty-one miles, and the latter of the district. thirty-seven. From this it will be noticed, that the scale is three inches to the mile; a rule applying to its perpendicular dimensions, as well as its horizontal. It is usual for us, on looking at a model, as well as a map, to take up our position at the south end; a habit in all likelihood, acquired at school,—and on doing so, the first thing which strikes us in Mr. Flintoft's model is, the natural outline formed by the aqueous element, which surrounds one-third of the country shown; stretching from Netherton, to the mouth of the Trent. Two large estuaries here pour into the sea; that on the right being the river Leven, which receives the waters of the lakes, Grasmere, Rydal, and Windermere ; and this on the left, the Duddon; which forms a fine natural bay, with an entrance of about a mile in width. No fewer than sixteen lakes are seen, besides fifty-two smaller pieces of water known as Tarns; some of them of great beauty, and situated so much as 2,000 feet or more above the level of the sea.
Besides these, there are other relics which form a transition between geological and historical antiquities. These consist of skulls and other bones, dug from the diluvium; there are two heads of bisons from near Carlisle; a third from Hawick, in Scotland; and a fine pair of red deer antlers, from Ennerdale. Few in these days but have read or heard of the famous musical stones; and I dare say comparatively few know that the first set put up were the work of Peter Crossthwaite. On a wooden stand, which bears testimony to the time it has occupied its corner in the principal room, are sixteen pieces of Hornblende slate, arranged in order, headed by a card half a century old. There is an inscription on it, in the handwriting of the discoverer, of which the following is the first paragraph:-" Here lie 16 stones, reduced to music by the author of this Museum, who found them in the bed of Greta River, from 12 to 18 furlongs east of Keswick."
The great feature however, presented by
Leaving six-legged rats, the double-headed calf, red Indians' heads, vertebræ of whales, this comprehensive view of the country, is the
disposition, outline, and comparative height of the different mountains; all of which are correctly given in the model. Thus we have, at the south-west corner, Black Comb-a rounded hill, almost entirely detached from any others; and in the far north, the fine Skiddaw group, consisting of Skiddaw proper, Saddleback, Latrigg, and numerous others of less dimensions, forming, as it were, an isolated patch, and terminating the land of lakes and 'mountains. These, however, are the only hills forming independent groups.
Towards the centre of the model, are seen two high hills; one presenting several rugged heads, or pikes, known as Scawfell Pikes, (rising 3,160 feet); and the other with a rounded top, not unlike the gable of a house in outline; and hence called Great Gable; its height being 2,925 feet. From these, nearly all the hills and vallies in this immense tract seem to take their rise. Wordsworth remarked, many years ago, that these two hills seemed to form the nave of a wheel, whose spokes were represented by the dales. This it would be difficult to prove to one's mind, by a view from the top of even Scawfell Pike itself. So many unforeseen difficulties come in the way; and it is only in a model formed on a good scale, that we can be perfectly satisfied. Indeed such a grand view as we have here, could not be attained unless we were raised through one-half of the atmosphere; and then, only, weather permitting.
Next to correctness in form, beauty of coloring is an indispensable element in a good model, and here Mr. Flintoft has succeeded admirably. The combination of the two has such a lively effect on the mind, that the gazer almost fancies, when looking on some pretty little patch, that he is a
"Child of the country, wild and free;"
and a wish, something like Montgomery's, rises involuntarily, especially if the day be
THAT bathing is the most efficacious of remedies, as well as the most healthful of luxuries, is so fully established by the opinion of the highest authori ties, founded on the universal practice and experience of ages, that it is unnecessary to go over the beaten ground. I shall therefore proceed to observe, that the manner of bathing, though a point be thought of no consequence at all; but let the of the first importance, seems by most people to effect of bathing be considered, and this indifference will appear in a strong light.
By the compression of the whole external surface of the body, which takes place on judicious immersion, the blood is carried on with acquired force to the heart, and returned by the reaction with proportional impulse. By this increased action and velocity, the capillaries are opened, the sluggish and tenacious humors loosened, obstructions are removed, the vessels are cleansed, and the whole system is invigorated; but all this depends on total and instant immersion; and to suppose that stepping into a bath, or wetting the body by parts, will produce these effects, is an absurdity that one would scarcely think any person of the commonest powers of comprehension could admit; yet the practice of many people seems to imply as much, though even the most accustomed bathers have experienced, that when, by bathing in shallow water, they have necessarily wetted the lower extremities first, their breath has been taken away; whereas by plunging wholly into water of the same temperature, no such inconvenience has arisen: a sufficient proof of the danger of partial bathing.
As by judicious bathing the vessels are freed, and the pores opened, so, by a contrary mode, the very reverse of these advantages must be expected. Everything beyond a single plunge and immediate immersion is preventive of the incalculable benefit which judicious bathing never fails to produce. By continuing in the bath, the body is robbed of its natural heat; reaction prevented; the channel of the pores is suspended; obstructions vessels collapse; and transpiration by the natural are confirmed, and paralysis is frequently induced. It is common to observe the fingers of "dabbling" bathers void of the vital stream; and though habit enables some persons of robust constitutions to remain a considerable time in the water, it cannot fail ultimately to destroy the vigor of the frame. Even the exercise of swimming, when long conloss of the use of limbs, and not unfrequently proved tinued, has in numberless instances occasioned the
head foremost from a height into the water; but
vided with brains. An easy and nearly horizontal position is the best for the moment of immersion.
I am now to tread on slippery ground; but I cannot conscientiously avoid it, though I know I It is frequently objected, that cold bathing is shall risk the displeasure of the real, but mistaken, dangerous in internal and local weaknesses; but a delicacy of some, and the affected delicacy of close and attentive observation, as well as per- more, when I urge the ill effects of using dresses sonal experience, lead me to think this objec- in bathing; but I must submit to sensible and tion at least equivocal. May not these weaknesses reasoning females, that an encumbering dress not be occasioned by obstructions which the bath will only injures the primary influence, but by clinging remove? and as to the humors being forced on the to the person, checks the glow which should be peccant part, they are too briskly driven to rest felt on coming out of the bath, and in weak conanywhere; and it is at least as probable that the stitutions often totally prevents it. As the usual part affected, partaking of the power of this simple enclosure ensures a perfect privacy, it were to be and natural tonic, may join in the general expul-wished the imagination would not conjure up a phantasmagoria of merely ideal observers.
sion. I have myself bathed under pleuritic affection, which immediately abated, and by repetition was entirely removed. Similar consequences ensued on bathing with a face much inflamed and swollen from a violent tooth-ache. The same effects were produced in a case of head-ache, which had continued for ten days, with excruciating torture, and was nearly subdued by the first immer sion, and wholly in a very short time. In short, I have scarcely a doubt that when evil has resulted from bathing, it has been from the injudicious
manner in which it has been used.
A part of my subject now presents itself, upon which I can never sufficiently expatiate while any thing remains unsaid which may tend to enforce little innocents are entirely at the mercy of those its interest; I mean, the bathing of children. The into whose hands they may happen to fall; and the brutal or senseless indifference to their feelings, their fears, their almost convulsive apprehensions, is sometimes productive of the most afflicting consequences, and too often prevents any beneficial effect from bathing.
In regard to the best time for bathing, it is when the natural indication is the strongest, and this, generally speaking, will be after considerable exercise (but short of producing sensible perspiration or fatigue). The body is then in that adust state which renders bathing so highly luxurious; and a vigorous circulation will ensure the full effect of reaction. Nothing then can be more operative of ill, or at least of diminished good, than lingering on the margin of the flood till the stagnating fluids refuse to obey even the spur of immersion. Hunger is the first sensation in a healthy body on rising from the repose of the night; and as digestion takes place in the most perfect manner during sleep, and many hours have passed without supply, the stomach should then be recruited. therefore, is not the most proper time for bathing. I consider the best time, generally, to be between breakfast and dinner; but every one will be able to determine this point, who is capable of a small degree of reflection, and will give it as much consideration as he often bestows on matters of less importance. Perhaps, where there is great rigidity of fibre, the morning may not be objectionable, and the warm bath may be a good preparative.
I cannot too often repeat, that every subsequent dip lessens the effect of the first immersion; and that the bath should be used once, and once only, every day; and were it so used every day in the year, it would ensure a life of health, barring the effects of intemperance, and all other ill habits; though even these enemies to health and life will labor against such an antagonist. I cannot here help smiling at the idea, that three or four dips, twice or thrice a week, are better than one every day. I really should be provoked to call this notion absolutely idiotic, had I not met with persons of good sense who had fallen into this egregious error; and I knew a lady who actually took ten dips on the last day of her stay at a watering-place, and would have gloried in her economical exploit, had not the chattering of her teeth, instead of her tongue, prevented her recounting it to her friends for at least ten hours after.
and that with the greatest care, that the immersion Children should never be dipped more than once; may be deep, but quickly done. The practice of dipping them three times (Folly's magic number), and generally without allowing them sufficient time to recover their breath, is so preposterously absurd, so evidently injurious, that one would almost wonder it could ever obtain. The child is made to look with increased dread to the hour of bathing, through the pain it has experienced from the distress which the lungs have undergone; by which the chance of benefit is reduced to almost nothing. Let parents, then, and all who have the care of children, weigh well these suggestions, and rescue the little sufferers from the hands of ignorance and inattention; that they may partake of the benefit of this invaluable remedy, preservative as well as curative. When a child knows that it is only to be dipped once, it will soon be reconciled; for it will be put to no pain; on the contrary, the sensation will be highly agreeable.
The proper depth for bathing is about four feet and a half; a less depth were disadvantageous, and a greater would be too deep for general use. sons attending bathing-machines should be very attentive to this circumstance, as it will greatly contribute to the satisfaction as well as benefit of the bathers, who are seldom aware of its importance.
ably proving the efficiency of the bath, and show-
In a word, when the bath is used with due consideration and judgment, its advantages are certain and universal.
Like a poet hidden
In the light of thought,
Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.
Sound of vernal showers
Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth
Like a glow-worm golden
Its aerial hue
Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view.
Yet if we could scorn
Hate, and pride, and fear;
If we were things born
Not to shed a tear,
I know not how thy joy we ever could come near.
Better than all measures
Like a high-born maiden
Of delight and sound,
Soul in secret hour,
With music sweet as love, which overflows her Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!
Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
THE WORLD SHOULD LISTEN THEN, AS I AM LISTEN
Like a rose embower'd
In its own green leaves,
Just now the dew, which sometimes on the buds
Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy- Stands trembling in each pretty floweret's eye,
This leads us to the object of our present remarks-which is, to try and awaken in the hearts of our excellent, kind-hearted Englishwomen, a desire to come forth in behalf of THEIR OWN suffering sex, here. In this labor of love, would we had ten thousand Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowes! But alas! with all the many sad scenes around us of poverty, sickness, distress, prostitution, sin, sorrow, and human wretchedness; no public champion appears for them!
No strangers can our nobility and gentry be, to what we speak of. They know it all but too well; yet, like the Priest and
Some women are very fond of scribbling, and can handle their pen well. But their forte lies in fiction, and their brain has to be racked for matter. Nature deals not in fiction, but pleases by the perpetual freshness of her facts. No effort of the mind is wanted here. The pen writes without any effort.-ED. K. J.
the Levite, they "pass by on the other side." If their names can be printed in a newspaper, or otherwise publicly proclaimed— then, we admit, they will contribute something from their store-but this is not charity."
The truth is, all cases of real suffering are passed by. The really deserving seldo complain. They sorrow in silence-starvedie. Nobody heeds the tolling bell that closes upon their earthly career. They depart, uncared for. True charity would search for such cases as these. They are easily found-their number legion.
But no! If an artful man or woman pre
tend to drown themselves, and are rescued from every quarter. for such, money flows The magistrates are continually remonstrating with the public for their ill-judged sympathy in similar cases; but all to no avail. *
As for the poor milliners and dress-makers of London, and their sorrows-all traceable to the worse than thoughtlessness of the nobility and gentry; of them, we could write volumes. But as the Press, collectively, has recently es poused their cause, and tried hard to shame the wealthy and unfeeling tyrants who oppress The them, we will not enlarge upon this. streets, after dusk, speak volumes of the The poor state of society. shivering wretches (from twelve years old and upwards) who wander there, are doomed to
As we have before said, a woman who has once fallen-no matter under what extenuating circumstances from the path of virtue, is known by her own sex no more for ever. No pity, no relief, no giving of alms-no attempt to reclaim. Infamy is her portion here; and, so far as her own sex are concerned, inevitable destruction hereafter! Not a hand would be put forth to save a hair of her head. "Let her die !" Our kindly-disposed women-thank God we have many such-err in their notions of charity. They arm themselves with halfpenny and penny tracts, and rashly enter places the most loathsome, to "read" to people who are unable to understand what they hear. Starving, too, are these poor creatures for the most part; and if they listen, it is simply with the view of getting a parting penny when their visitor withdraws. This is a self sacrifice at once dangerous to the visitor, and far worse than useless to the persons
*There is a great deal of "morbid sympathy' going on at the west-end of London, where beggars of all sorts haunt the streets. Women with petitions, get up all sorts of artful tales; and work upon the feelings of private people to a considerable tune. It is a complete "matter of business," and a very thriving one too. But as the whole tribe are impostors-known to be so, one cannot but regret the want of judgment shown in giving them money.-ED. K. J.