become as nearly as possible its centre. It now constitutes the site of five of the finest shops in the whole city; one of which, a drug-store, in January last was pulled down and rebuilt. Whilst the old shop was in course of being pulled down, the site of it was sold by Mr. Hamilton to its present proprietor at a price of 45,500 dollars. Supposing the sites of the other four shops to be worth as much each as that of the drug-store, the value of Mr. Hamilton's purchase, within eighteen years, has thus increased to no less an extent than that of 3,600 per cent. !

Facts like these are startling, but they are facts; and hundreds such are familiar to every inhabitant of the city they refer to. Perhaps one more we may have space to mention. In the close neighbourhood of the abovenamed drug-store is a street of private dwellings, erected by a public company within the last twelve months. 1839, the land on which they are built was sold for 2,950 dollars, but it cost its present owners, in 1852, considerably more than a thousand times that sum. The number of dollars they gave for it was 3,500,000!

In

The name of the city which has increased in population and wealth, with the celerity and in the ratio which is attested by these facts, will perhaps at once suggest itself to the minds of but few of our readers. It is not as yet a name which has made much noise in the world, but, nevertheless, over all the cities of the United States-with, perhaps, the exception of New York, though of New York only-the one which bears it must inevitably, ere long, become pre-eminent. Twenty years hence our readers may take our word for it-the most important commercial city on the American continent will be-Chicago.

A slight examination of its geographical position will convince the most incredulous of the impossibility of its being otherwise. Seated, as we saw, at the southern extremity of Lake Michigan, the construction of the Illinois and Michigan Canal, by connecting that lake with the great river Mississipi, has placed Chicago near the centre of the longest line of inland navigation in the world, one which connects New York with New Orleans, the Atlantic Ocean with the Gulf of Mexico, and passes through a region richer in all the elements of commercial prosperity than any other at present known to exist. The valley of the Mississipi is not only the most extensive on the face of the earth, covering an area of 4,000,000 of square miles, but there is no other known region of the globe which is so fertile, or possessed of such exhaustless mineral wealth. It must therefore, in the very nature of things, in time become the seat of an enormous population, requiring to export immense quantities of its produce, and to receive the productions of other countries in exchange; and both these kinds of merchandize must pass through Chicago, in order to be conveyed most cheaply and expeditiously to their destinations. Chicago, we therefore see, cannot but become the great central mart of the American continent, the market for the mineral, agricultural, and industrial produce of nearly two-thirds of the United States, and for whatever foreign merchandise, of whatever kind, is required for the use of the inhabitants of that proportion of them. In all human probability, before she has doubled her present age,—and though possessed of 66,000 inhabitants, it will be three years yet before she will be out of her teens,-she will have arrived at an importance, as a commercial city, which will far have outstripped that of all her rivals, and have made that of even New York dwindle, in comparison, into utter insignificence.

But in addition to the first commercial city of the Union, Chicago bids fair to become the chief seat of its manufactures. For 1,000 miles of her on every side are rich mines of iron, copper, lead, and tin, the products of which can be manufactured in her workshops more

cheaply and advantageously than anywhere besides. She has thus every element of prosperity within her grasp, and it is almost a thing of necessity that she should become great beyond all precedent. For the last eleven years, the rate of her increase in population and wealth has been constantly undergoing acceleration. During the last twelve months, it amounted to no less than fiftyseven per cent.; and if things only continue to proceed as now, in less than five years this rate of increase will be doubled!

No one on visiting Chicago as she is to-day, with her fine harbour full of shipping, her noble warehouses, her magnificent public buildings, and her sixteen railway termini, at which, in the aggregate, nearly 100 trains daily arrive, would be apt to imagine that twenty-five years ago there was no white man's dwelling within sixty miles, and that twenty-one years have not yet passed since the surrounding territory was purchased from the Indians, who then possessed it. Such is the fact, however, it having been in the September of 1833 that the latter, assembled in a body to the number of 7,000, ceded it to the government of the United States. They gave it up on condition of receiving goods to the value of a sum agreed upon, in two annual instalments; and with a description of one of these "Indian payments," extracted from the Democratic Free Press, one of the numerous daily journals which are now published in Chicago, we conclude our paper on this " Mushroom City."

"It was on the 28th of October, 1833," says the editor of the Free Press, "that the first annuity was paid to the Pottawatomie and other Indians under the treaty made the year previous for the purchase of their lands in Michigan, Illinois, and Wisconsin. About 30,000 dollars' worth of goods were to be distributed amongst rather more than 4,000 Indians. The goods were piled up in a heap upon the prairie, and the Indians made to sit round it in a circle upon the grass. A number of half-breds were employed to distribute the goods, which they began to do by taking them up by armsful, and then throwing portions of them first to one, and then to another. Of course the whole assembly could not be served at once, and those whose turn did not come first soon began to be very impatient. Many minutes had not elapsed before they quitted the sitting posture, at first getting on their knees, and vociferating all the time in right lusty Indian gibberish. Then they rose on one foot, and were soon all standing, and at last they made in a body a rush to the pile. I witnessed then a manner of dispersing a mob, which I never saw exemplified before, nor have I since. The crowd was so great about the goods, that those who were behind could not get near them. So they hurled into the air whatever missiles they could get hold of, literally filling the air with stones, &c. and causing them to fall in the centre of the crowd. Upon this, those who were in the centre rushed away, to save their heads, leaving space for the others to rush in and share the spoils. More than a dozen, however, were killed by stones falling on them, and the place of payment, after it was over, resembled the scene of a recent battle."

ARTISTS AND LITERARY MEN. THERE is always a numerous class of men floating about in society-many of them highly gifted beings,-who are ever ready to cry out against the blindness and ingratitude of the world, and its disregard of true merit. Authors and artists are not a numerous class, but it is to be feared that they contain a more than average proportion of such grumblers. How many of these, as you may find from their Lives and Autobiographies, have been constantly possessed by this idea-that the world neglected them,

that their brother authors and artists persecuted them,and that theirs was but the lot of true genius, poverty, neglect, and persecution. If any reader would find a striking instance of this sort of character, he may find it in the Life of Benjamin Haydon, the historical painter, recently published.

Poor Haydon! His worst enemy was himself. The world was ready enough to recognise him. People flocked to see his pictures; one of these attracted not fewer than 60,000 persons, and produced 3,0007. in money. Artists took him by the hand, got commissions for him, and helped him in all possible ways. Nor were wealthy patrons wanting; for a long time he was the pet of the aristocratic dilettanti, and discoursed eloquently to them of high art. Yet somehow he never got on, or achieved a determinate position among artists. How was this? He was himself ready enough to assign reasons. It was the Royal Academy which combined to 'persecute him,-artists generally who entertained, as he alleged, petty malignity" towards him,-and the world at large, who neglected and despised "high art." Yet there have been many other English artists who have left behind them at least as great works as Haydon, who had no such fault to find with the world:" need we mention Wilkie, Flaxman, Reynolds, and many more, who went down to their graves full of age and honours?

He

It is a hard thing to say of poor Haydon; but his Life shows that he had many serious defects in his character, which were the real causes of his want of success. was ambitious, but not hard-working. He had genius, but wanted patience. His views of fine art were grand, but they mostly found expression in words. He was much given to talking. He talked recklessly, "furiously," as he himself calls it; and he oftener talks for the purpose of wounding than of persuading. This is not the way to succeed in the world-running one's head against all manner of stone walls in one's way. We are sorry to say it too; but there was a lamentable substratum of meanness in Haydon's character. For many years of his life he lived upon borrowed money. He laid all his friends under contribution. He wrote begging letters to men in office, until they were sick of him. For a long time he lived upon the supplies obtained from his poor, old, wornout father, whom he ought rather to have helped; and then, when that source failed, he sent missives about like another Joseph Ady. And all the while that he was living upon the money thus borrowed from his friends, he was writing down stinging abuse of them in his journal, intended to be afterwards published in his autobiography, part of which is now given to the world in the Life of Haydon, above referred to.

This Life furnishes a series of striking proofs of the truth of the common adage, that "An empty bag cannot stand upright." It shows that a man may have very high ideas of art, but very low ideas of life; that he may talk eloquently, but act meanly; that he may fiercely assert his independence, but live in daily and hourly abasement; in fact, such a life is generally a dismal tragedy, with an agonizing end, as poor Haydon's assuredly was.

We do not mean here to give a sketch of Haydon's career, but merely to point out the mistake on which the grumbling of authors, artists, and other disappointed men, is founded. Show us a man who has laboured persistently and patiently in art or literature-who has studied after the best models, and diligently seized every opportunity for self-improvement-who has made opportunities for himself, when they did not lie ready-made to his hand,---show us a man of this calibre who has not succeeded. The instances of want of success in such cases are extremely few; it will be found that the failures have been exceptional, and that in almost every case where failure

has occurred, it has been through some marked defect or twist in the character. The world is, indeed, extremely ready to recognise merit of all kinds, even of the most second-rate description; but men of first-rate genius are sought after, are praised, are honoured, more than any other description of successful men. They may not amass wealth so rapidly as other industrious men; but they are held in far higher estimation in society, and that is worth more than money. There are many living authors and artists of comparatively humble means, who have the entrée in society, from which the richest brokers on 'Change, and even the most opulent bankers and merchants, are rigorously excluded. And even as regards the means of living, clever authors and artists can make money fast enough if they like. Turner's brush was worth a large landed estate to him, and Sir Walter Scott's pen was as productive as many a largely-acred lord's rent-roll. We need not particularize literary men and artists of this day whose incomes enable them to live in aristocratic quarters in the best style, as they deserve. Take the class as a whole, and we venture to say that they will be found to earn more money on an average of years than the members of the learned professions do.

Yet it is very much the fashion for literary men and artists to complain that literature and art are not appreciated, and to be calling out for this, that, and the other public honour to be awarded to them. The public honour them already, and reward them, too. Would they have Government titles? Government pensions? Government grants? We could name a score of living artists who can make more by their works in a year, than a Government pension on the highest scale would amount to during the whole remaining time of their lives. And we could name a score of literary men whose annual earnings from their works average far more than the annual pay of the colonels of our "crack" regiments. Would men of genius have titles? They do not need them. Stansfield would not be a greater painter, or a more highly respected man, with a handle to his name; nor would Macaulay be more honoured and admired, were he a lord.

There never was a time when art and literature were more richly patronised than at present. Look into the numerous exhibitions of pictures now open in London. Inquire after the best pictures-those admitted to be such by the best artists, and you will find they are "sold." Nearly all the best pictures in the Water-colour Exhibition were labelled as "sold during the first month. And it is the same at the Royal Academy, though there the pictures sold are not labelled. But the best pictures there exhibited are commissions. The magnificent picture exhibited by Stansfield, last year, of "The Victory, with the dead body of Nelson on board, being towed into Trafalgar Bay," was commissioned by Mr. Peto, who ordered a pair of pictures at 1,0007. each, leaving to the artist the size and selection of subject; and this was the first of the pair-one of the finest pictures Stansfield has ever painted, though (strange to say) the artist had the greatest misgivings as to the success of the work previous to its exhibition. It is the same with the pictures exhibited by Creswick, Landseer, Lee, Redgrave, and many more in the present year's exhibitions. Nearly all the best artists in London are full of commissions,-some of them for years to come.

It is the same with literature: never was it so extensively patronised. The public is now admitted to be a reading public, and it has an almost insatiable demand for books, and not only for books, but for good books. No man need despair of finding a publisher for a really good book now-a-days. Publishers are often denounced by authors as stupid, mercenary bloodsuckers, because they do not buy at the author's price the manuscripts offered to them. But publishers are men of business, and they have no interest in publishing a book that will not

be read, nor sell. Indeed, it is not the interest of authors themselves that publishers should print unsaleable books. But let them have the chance of publishing a good book, and they will be quick enough to buy the manuscript,— for it is their interest to do so. Besides, the literary man has another extensive market for his works, in the rapidlygrowing periodical press. Any really good article is sure of acceptance by some one or other of the numerous publishers of periodical works; and many articles of even no merit at all are accepted, and paid for, for want of better. Every scrap of knowledge may thus be converted into the current coin of the realm; and there is not now any description of literary man but has one or more periodical vehicles. From puns to antiquarianism,-from photography to church history,-there is no end of the demand for articles at fair prices.

It is to be feared, however, that many literary men and artists expect to be favoured with immunity from the consequences of certain conduct, which in the cases of grocers, brokers, lawyers, and parsons, involves them in embarrassment and ruin. They run into debt, and expect the world to help them out of it. Thackeray, in painting the character of Captain Shandon, in his Pendennis, gave great offence to the literary profession; yet he only spoke the plain truth. "If a lawyer," said he, or a soldier, or a parson, outruns his income, and does not pay his bills, he must go to gaol; and an author must go too." Captain Shandon was thus painted by Thackeray, and while we read the description, we cannot help thinking of Haydon's similar character:-" Nothing ever seemed to disturb the sweetness of his temper; not debts, not duns, not misery; not his wife's unhappy position, nor his children's ruined chances. He was perfectly fond of his wife and children after his fashion; he always had the kindest words and smiles for them, and ruined them with the utmost sweetness of temper. He never could refuse himself or any man any enjoyment which his money could purchase; he would share his last guinea with Jack and Tom, and we may be sure he had a score of such retainers. He would sign his name at the back of any man's bill, and never pay any debt of his own. He would write on any side, and attack himself or another man with equal indifference. He was one of the wittiest, the most amiable, and the most incorrigible of men." We trust, however, that the Shandon style of literary man and artist is fast going out of fashion. There are not many left of them, who, like Theophilus Cibber, begged a guinea, and spent it on a dish of ortolans. But the improvement must come from the class themselves. They, like all other classes, must be their own helpers. Calling out that they are not respected is not the way to make them so: they must be respect-worthy. They must be provident, like other men ; and they would be none the worse, but much the better, if they cultivated orderly and business habits more carefully than they do.

In an admirable article on "The Literary Profession," which recently appeared in the North British Review, the writer says "It is a truth beyond all contradiction, say what we may of the light esteem in which the professors of literature are held by society at large, that society never sets its face against a man because he is connected with the literature of his country, though it smiles on and welcomes many a man whom, but for such connection, it would never cherish or receive." If a man be estimable in himself; if he fulfil worthily his social duties; if he be a gentleman in his feelings, his manners, his conversation, he will not, we repeat, be welcomed less, but more readily by society, because he writes books or reviews them. We reiterate the assertion, because there is much sickly stuff written in the present day about the neglect of literary men. Literary men are not neglected because they are literary men. But they have no right to expect that society will overlook all their social offences because they

are literary men. They have no right to demand that the Shandons shall be carried from the prison-tavern to Gaunt House; or that the Bludyers, odorous of the spirits-andwater purchased with the proceeds of the editor's copy of the last new novel, should be invited to drink champagne with Lord Colchicum. They must stand or fall on their own merits; and take their chance with the rest.

HOW TO GET RICH BY SPECULATION.
(Concluded from our last.)

AN Englishman of some celebrity used to say that the first of his ancestors of any note was a baker and dealer in hops, who, on one occasion, to procure a sum of money, robbed his feather-beds of their contents, and supplied the deficiency with unsaleable hops. In a few years a severe blight universally prevailed, hops became very scarce, and enormously dear; the hoarded treasure was ripped out, and a good sum procured for hops which, in a plentiful season, would not have been saleable; and thus, said he, our family hopped from obscurity." Hops are said to fail, on an average, every five years-a hint to speculators. The rule laid down in reference to flour applies equally well to cotton, but-take care of your statistics. Distrust the Carolina and Georgia newspapers. Long as we have lived, we do not remember a season without a dismal story that the "cotton crop had entirely failed at the South."

There are two qualities which principally fit any commodity for speculation; first, frequency in the change of its price; and secondly, the extent of that change; it being obvious that alteration-a fall as well as a rise-is necessary to the purpose of the speculator, and the extreme of prices is that which he will chiefly look to, or in which he will seek his gain.

Of the two, trade and speculation, which is superior— which the inferior, we apprehend there cannot be a doubt. Speculation is, in truth, a mere exception in business, arising out of the derangements of trade, or impossibility of adjusting the supply to the demand; yet so far useful to, or coming in aid of trade, as it has a tendency to produce readjustment; to prevent extremes in price, as well that which is ruinously low as that which is exeessive, to prevent dearth and famine. For, if a person buys when prices are low, this has a tendency to raise price; as when he brings out a store, and sells when prices are high, it has to lower it.

Trade is steady and uniform, and can be carried on at all times; speculation, on the other hand, only occasionally, or when opportunity offers. There is, therefore, a peculiar certainty which belongs to the former which does not belong to the latter; and this certainty is the certainty of employment, or the scope for it. The time also required to mature a speculation is not to be forgotten, during which it may be conceived money will often be made in the regular course of trade. As in mechanics, so in speculation, what we gain in force we lose in time. Yet, without doubt, occasionally very large sums are made by opportunities which it requires but a very ordinary share of sagacity to foresee and take advantage of. Such, however, is the variety of productions afforded by commerce, or brought into demand by the necessities and luxuries of man, and the complex state of things thereby occasioned, that when an object of speculation is dismissed or fails, a wide field exists in which to look out for another; there is, in fact, almost always something which is plentiful or scarce, that is, at a price below or above the average-namely, grain, or a particular species of grain, cotton, hemp, flax, wool, leather, oils of various kinds-whale, palm, olive, seal, sperm, eod,-whalebone, rice, sugar, coffee, tallow, tar, turpentine, saltpetre,

indigo, &c.; so that a person may, at any given or particular time, have an opportunity of laying the foundation of a speculation by purchase, or of finishing it by sale; if not the one, at least the other; and the state of things which fits for the one is just as necessary as that which fits for the other. Thus may irregularity be converted into regularity, and that which is in its nature occasional made permanent, or the subject of a continued mode of operation, or one speculation be uniformly succeeded by another.

There is likewise another consideration which occurs here. In general, it requires considerable time to mature a single speculation, and bring it to a successful termination. Now, if a person embark his whole disposable means in any one article, he is in that case not only obliged to wait the issue of this one adventure, according to the fortune of the article, but he is during the time precluded from having anything to do with any other, whatever advantages it may offer. Therefore, if a person be inclined to make speculation a business, it would seem best to invest only a part of his capital in any one commodity, so as to have many speculations afloat at the same time, different in their stages,-some, if possible, always commencing, and others falling in, or terminating. By these means it may be brought more nearly to the nature and condition of a regular trade, in which not only is a person's whole capital with some certainty engaged, but an average established, rendering it more uniform and safe. And so considered, it matters not to a speculator whether things rise or fall. When they fall he is to buy, when they rise he is to sell. His only difficulty is, when they stand still. Nor is this to be confounded with wholesale trade, strictly understood, which is a different thing, and consists in supplying set customers for a regular profit. But how do you know when commodities are highest or lowest ?-When they begin to rise or fall? Shall this be your guide? Not without careful reference to elaborate statistics-the lowest and highest averages. When prices are high, of course there is a great demand, and business is brisk; when prices are low there is little demand and business is dull. Hence the temptation in the one case, and the discouragement in the other. Therefore, to be a good merchant or speculator, as to be a good general, nerve is necessary; and the one as well as the other must often act in the face of appearances. He must believe, contrary to what the fabulous first inhabitants of the earth are reported to have done, that the sun will rise again after it has set. Nay, we should say a good merchant must always act contrary to appearances, at least to what appears to the generality of mankind. He must buy when no other person will buy; sell when no other person will sell: although certainly, if properly considered, it is most consistent with reason to buy when things are low; to sell when they are high.

The rule, therefore, generally is (the temptation being apparent) to speculate in high prices; that is, to buy when things are high, in the expectation of their rising still higher. In this, indeed, there may often be much gain, but there is always great risk. Therefore, to be safe, the article must be got rid of immediately,—that is, soon,— whether at a gain or at a loss; if at a loss, to save a greater. And the last holder, in cases of this kind, be it observed, is always a dupe. The conduct described is, indeed, a common one, by which we find many ruin themselves, and often throw away the fruits of a long life of industry by a single false step.

Is there any danger of letting people into these secrets? None whatever; for, as Spurzheim said, men are so stupid, there is no fear of their ever becoming wise. He, it is said, who has the folly of mankind for an inheritance, has a plentiful estate. The great object of speculation, indeed, being to substitute sagacity for toil, to enable men to live by their wits instead of their labour, the sole

efficiency of the first-mentioned quality in one class refers exactly to the want of it in another.

An American trading-vessel, after interloping at a port in Japan, and making the most of her time, was ordered off, as usual, by the government. The Japanese official said to the captain, "You must never come here again; but when you do, be sure to bring some more of that fine broadcloth." So we say to all and singular who shall read the above, "Never speculate; but when you do, be sure to mind our rules."-Freedley's How to Make Money.

THE BLIND GIRL'S SONG IN JUNE.
THE Summer is coming-I know its approach
By the breath of the opening flowers,
By the song of the blackbird, whose musical notes
Enliven the soft twilight hours;

By the murmuring hum of the wandering bee,
By the touch of the leaves on the young maple tree,
And my brother's sweet voice as with infantine glee
He wanders the daisies among.

The Summer is coming! and gladness and joy
To my blighted young life will be given,
In its full cup of pleasure there is no alloy,
No cloud in the blue of its heaven;

For the voices of those that are dearest on earth
Are around me once more in their gladness and mirth,
And friendship is tested, and proved is its worth,

As we wander the daisies among.

The Summer is coming! I welcome it back
With a joy I can scarcely express;

It sheds a bright beam on my desolate track,
It meets me with love and caress.

It whispers a hope that when Time is grown old,
When my days shall have passed "as a tale that is told,"
In Elysian fields over herbage of gold,

We shall wander the daisies among.

EMILY LOCKYER.

The

It is very common for the English to take short trips to the south of France, Italy, &c. and come home raving about " summers among the vines ;" and those who have never been out of England are simple enough to imagine such scenes very El Dorados, and many almost despise England. Now, as I can speak from personal observation, I will tell such what these boasted vineyards are. soil resembles a ploughed field that has not had the harrow passed over it. On this you see at certain intervals small, stunted, sun-burnt plants, like currant bushes, on which grow white or purple grapes, all of which are so covered and obscured with dust, arising from the dryness of the climate, that very often you cannot tell the white grapes from the purple. Then, during the vintage, you see a set of dirty people, swarming with vermin, gathering the grapes, and putting them into long high baskets slung at their backs, which, when full, they go and empty down in heaps on the side of the road, in all the dirt and grit. From thence they are carried in carts. In short, for true beauty, there are no landscapes surpassing the British. Where is there one surpassing the view of Worcestershire, Herefordshire, &c. from the top of the Malvern Hills, when the orchards are in blossom; or similar scenes in Devonshire at the same period; also, Kentish landscapes when the hop gardens are in flower?

Printed by Cox (Brothers) & WYMAN, 74-75, Great Queen Street, London; and published by CHARLES COOK, at the Office of the Journal, 3, Raquet Court, Fleet Street.

AWFUL RESPONSIBILITIES.

Of all public duties there is none of such fearful responsibility, if we except the dissemination of divine truth, as that which devolves on the empannelled jury, who are to decide on facts, on which human life depends. The unbiassed judgment, notwithstanding appearances and circumstances, the undeviating attention to conflicting evidence, intricate details, and trifling incidents, which become important from their bearing, the charitable feeling which should keep alive all doubts of guilt till fully proved, are, indeed, mental exercises of the highest order. They may be tasked too much in decisions where all rests on circumstantial evidence-the fallibility of such evidence has not been rare, even in cases where common sense could have no doubt. The consciousness that such has been the case, and the conviction that such may often be the case, are strong arguments against the forfeiture of life on circumstantial evidence. Wherever there exists a moral possibility that the criminal act may not have been committed by the accused, the safer course the law could take would be not to demand the dreadful sacrifice-that should be for proof, which could not be set aside-it is a contested point whether capital punishment should be altogether abolished, and much may be said on both sides.

It is essential to the well-being of society that the secrecy with which crimes are committed, is not sufficient to prevent their discovery. Crimes of great enormity seldom escape detection, and there are few aphorisms more true than that "murder will out." Some vestige is constantly left in the hurry and confusion attending an act of violence. Nay, the very means taken for concealment often lead to detection. It is justly remarked by Starkie, that the consideration of the nature of circumstantial evidence, and of the principles on which it is founded, merits the most profound attention. Scientific assistance has been eminently useful in saving the innocent and detecting the guilty. In some remarkable trials for murder, many offenders have been detected by the observation of medical men, who have traced the facts by slight and unexpected circumstances. Many cases mentioned in Taylor's Medical Jurisprudence, to whom we are indebted for most interesting information, illustrate this statement. He mentions that when Sir Astley Cooper was called to see Mr. Blight, of Deptford, who had been mortally wounded by a pistol shot, in the year 1806, he inferred from an examination of the localities, that

[PRICE 1 d.

the shot must have been fired by a left-handed man. The only left-handed man near the premises at the time was a Mr. Patch, a particular friend of the deceased, who was not in the least suspected. The man was afterwards tried and convicted of the crime, and he made a full confession of his guilt before execution. Yet medical evidence is not always borne out by the fact. A man was stabbed by another in the face. A knife, with the blade entire, was brought forward as evidence against the prisoner at the trial, the surgeon having declared that the wound must have been caused by this knife; the wounded person recovered, but a year afterwards a fistula formed in the face, and the broken point of the real weapon was discharged from the sinus; the wound could not, therefore, have been produced by the knife brought forward against the prisoner at the trial.

We may reasonably conclude that marks, mistaken for blood-stains, found on the clothes of persons suspected of murder, have often been taken as conclusive evidence against them; but the noble science of chemistry can ascertain when the marks are vegetable stains, however closely resembling those of blood. By an ingenious process suggested by M. Taddie, of Florence, human blood can be distinguished from animal, and the blood of various animals from that of each other. The microscope, in the hands of a competent person, is eminently useful in discovering the distinction. The benefit resulting from chemistry may be appreciated, when we consider what the fate of many innocent individuals would have been without its aid. In March, 1840, a person was murdered at Islington; a man was taken up on suspicion; a sack was found in his possession, having upon it many red stains, supposed to be blood. Professor Graham examined them, and found them to be from red paint, containing peroxide of iron, and it was proved that the sack had been worn as an apron by a boy who had been apprentice to a paperstainer; the accused had received it a few days before wrapped round a parcel. A farmer's lad was taken up on a suspicion of murder. His blue blowse and trowsers were marked with red and brown stains, apparently blood, and it appeared as if blood-stained fingers had been wiped on them. The articles were chemically examined, and the marks found to have been caused by vegetable juice. The boy, on being questioned, said that he had the day before he was taken up, gathered a quantity of red poppies, which had been bruised by his treading on them: he took them