temperature, causing them ultimately to unite with oxygen. The quantity of air entering is so regulated by the size of the separate openings, that it produces nearly a perfectly cylindrical, instead of a conical flame. By the incandescent state of the inner chimney the products of combustion are separated from one another, and appear at different positions. The ascending current of air between the glass and outer chimney supports combustion, as of a taper; when placed between the two chimnies, the taper is extinguished, and relighted again when brought over the central aperture. The novelties in arrangement of this lamp are the rising concentric rings and the metallic chimnies. We have, in the engraving, represented a large double-ring burner in the centre; the diameter of the outer ring is five inches; and of the inner, three inches. This sized burner will consume about 50 feet per hour, and be equal to 48 Argand burners, consuming five feet per hour, or 240 feet; this effects a great saving. Mr Moxhay's Hall of Commerce, in Threadneedle street, is illuminated with this light. So also is the London Coffee house, Ludgate hill, as well as a number of churches and chapels, and other public establishments. To shopkeepers these burners are of consequence, as they carry off the carbonic acid gas, and thereby no injury is caused to articles exhibited in their windows.

The following advantages the patentee offers to the public:

1st. Obtaining the greatest quantity of light from a comparative small quantity of gas.

2nd. From the same cause, the comparatively small amount of heat generated. 3rd. From the complete combustion, the impossibility of escape of noxious gas into the

air.

4th. The complete absence of soot, smell, and smoke.

5th. The possibility of applying, with success, the principle to burners of all sizes, from one consuming one foot, to another consuming 100 feet per hour.

6th. The entire absence of all danger, there being no gas used beside the common carburetted hydrogen; consequently, no explosion can take place.

7th. The very moderate cost at which the burners are sold, and the great reduction in the number of lights generally used, affording a saving of at least one half; in some cases reaching to 85 per cent.

ON THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S STATUE FOR
THE ROYAL EXCHANGE BEING FINISHED
BY MR WEEKS.

The Duke and horse long talked about,
As being wrought some four years past,
A mare's nest proves! at least turns out
To be at last but one Weeks' work.

THE NOBLE HOUSE OF LANGDALE. THIS is a new peerage. Not to the merits of his ancestors, but to his own, Lord Langdale owes his title. His talents as an advocate raised him to the bench, and his acuteness and impartiality as a judge have given him fame.

If we were to place on record the many triumphs which he has professionally won, this article would greatly exceed the usual length. They are, however, generally so well known, and the public are so frequently reminded of them from his continued efforts on the judicial bench, that such labour may be spared. Burke tells us that Henry Bickersteth, Esq., who died May, 1821, left by Elizabeth, his wife, daughter of John Batty, Esq., four sons, John, Henry, Edward, and Robert. second son is now Lord Langdale. His Lordship graduated in the University of Cambridge as senior wrangler in 1808, and was called to the bar in 1811. He was appointed Master of the Rolls in 1836, and raised to the Peerage on the occasion, on the 23rd of January in that year.

The

A MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR.

BY PROFESSOR LONGFELLOW, THE AMERICAN POET.

YES, the Year is growing old,

And his eye is pale and bleared!
Death, with frosty hand and cold,
Plucks the old man by the beard,
Sorely, sorely!
The leaves are falling, falling,
Solemnly and slow:

"Caw, caw!" the rooks are calling,
It is a sound of woe,

A sound of woe!

Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll! They are chanting solemn masses, Singing, "Pray for this poor soul, Pray,-pray!"

And the hooded clouds, like friars,
Tell their beads in drops of rain,
And patter their doleful prayers;-
But their prayers are all in vain,
All in vain!

There he stands in the foul weather,
The foolish, fond Old Year,

Crowned with wild flowers and with heather,

Like weak, despised Lear,

A king,-a king!

Then comes the summer-like day,
Bids the old man rejoice!
His joy! his last! O, the old man gray,
Loveth that ever-soft voice,

Gentle and low.

To the crimson woods he saith,

To the voice gentle and low Of the soft air, like a daughter's breath,"Pray do not mock me so!

Do not laugh at me!"
And now the sweet day is dead;

Cold in his arms it lies;
No stain from its breath is spread
Over the glassy skies,

No mist or stain!

Then, too, the Old Year dieth,

And the forests utter a moan, Like the voice of one who crieth In the wilderness alone,

"Vex not his ghost!"

Then comes, with an awful roar,
Gathering and sounding on,
The storm-wind from Labrador,
The wind Euroclydon,

The storm-wind!

Howl! howl! and from the forest
Sweep the red leaves away!
Would the sins that thou abhorrest,
O Soul! could thus decay,

And be swept away!

For there shall come a mightier blast,
There shall be a darker day;

And the stars from heaven down-cast,
Like red leaves be swept away!
Kyrie, eleyson!
Christe, eleyson!

AN INDIAN TRAGEDY.

Michigan, Nov. 7.

THE following Indian tragedy is related by Mr James Fowle. It occurred in this vicinity, the parties being his neighbours. In the spring of 1837 Nogisqua, an Indian of the Potawatamy tribe, residing in this vicinity, having pawned his gun and a part of his clothes to a man named John N-, for intoxicating drink, the trader proposed to the Indian that, if he would sell him a certain cream-coloured pony belonging to his squaw, and a present from her father (Bawbish, a chief of the tribe), he would give him up his gun and clothing, and let him have more strong drink, from time to time, until the price agreed upon was paid. To this Nogisqua agreed, and privately gave up the pony, which was sent farther west. It appeared that his squaw, having some suspicion of what was going on, employed her younger brother to watch the result.

Upon the return of the Indian to his camp, partly intoxicated, his squaw, highly enraged, accused him of selling her pony. She became more and more enraged about his indifference of the affair, and at length declared she would kill him. He handed her his scalping knife, and drawing aside his hunting shirt, and making his bosom bare, coolly exclaimed, "Kina poo!" (kill away). She instantly plunged it to its handle in his breast, which caused his death in a few minutes. Her father, the Indian chief, being then absent some twenty or thirty miles east, a runner was dispatched to acquaint him of what had happened. Soon after, Mr Fowle says, he saw him pass by his house, with a sad countenance, towards the place of the murder. A heartrending duty now devolved on the old chief. His word was to acquit or condemn his agonized daughter, according to Indian usage from time immemorial. His daughter was the handsomest squaw of her tribe, and a darling child, and the wails of her relatives, together with his own sympathies, rolled upon the mind of the chief, in the figurative language of his countrymen, like the rushings of the mighty deep upon the lonely rock in the sweeping storm. He must be the judge. No other tribunal was within the Indian code of criminal justice. The performance of this duty required more than Roman firmness. The Great Spirit and the blood of his murdered son-in-law seemed to say, "Bawbish, according to the customs of your forefathers for ages past, now decide justly." The chief, like agonized Joseph, when he made himself known to his brethren, could contain himself no longer. His integrity as an Indian chief prevailed. He rolled his troubled eye for the last time upon his darling daughter, then upon his

kindred, and upon a portion of his tribe that stood before him, and then invoked the Great Spirit to grant firmness. The storm of agony in the mind of the chief had passed away, and in deep sorrow he decided that his daughter ought to die by the hand of the nearest of kin to the murdered Indian, according to their custom for ages past. The person of the father, chief, and judge, then withdrew, with nothing but his integrity to console him. It was ordered that Jonese, a brother of Nogisqua, then south, near Fort Wayne, should execute the sentence. Accordingly a runner was sent for him, and he came without delay. After hearing what was deemed his duty, the cry of a brother's blood from the ground on which he stood strung every nerve, and gave tone to every muscle for revenge. There were white persons present at the execution, who relate it as follows:-The brother proceeded to the fatal Indian camp, and, after sharpening his scalping-knife to his liking, and performing several ceremonies customary with their tribe since their acquaintance with the Catholic missionaries, he took the victim by her long flowing hair, and led her to the front of the camp, and then made an incision on her forehead in the form of a cross, bared her bosom, and plunged the knife to the handle in her body. A shriek, a rush of blood, a few dying groans and convulsions, followed, and the fair form of the handsome squaw lay stiff in death. From the time of the murder until the execution the female relatives of the murderess never left her tent, the time being spent in lamentations over the young squaw. After the execution both bodies were buried together in the sand-bank, where they now lie side by side. The Indians and squaws became reconciled, and all seemed satisfied that no other atonement could have been satisfactory. Thus perished, says my informant, the best Indian and handsomest squaw of their tribe-the victims of the whisky seller, who is far more guilty than either of the others of a moral wrong. My informant also says that, from first to last, there was manifested no desire to escape or evade the fate of the unfortunate young squaw.

[Surely some law should be made to prevent the unrestricted sale of intoxicating liquors to those people who, for want of education, are ready at all times to poison themselves for the benefit of gain to the traffickers in this murderous drink. No doubt it is made intoxicating enough by baneful drugs. There is no excise officer to test its strength or to notice its impurities; and the unfortunate creatures who take it are lulled into the insensibility produced by opium and other narcotics.ED.]

GEORGE IV's STATUE AND NEL

SON'S PILLAR.

CHANTREY'S equestrian statue of George the Fourth, originally intended to stand on the marble and in front of Buckingham House, has been erected in Trafalgar square. It is a noble object; there is grace and animation in every part. Though arrayed in that flowing drapery which taste has pronounced to be most appropriate to sculpture, it accords so well with the robes George was in the habit of wearing on state occasions, that every one who saw him, must instantly recal the elegant and commanding figure of that luxurious monarch.

It is not easy to declare what is doing, or what is intended to be done, with the piece of stone lately elevated on the column as the statue of Nelson. The singularly unsightly aspect it presented, viewed in several directions, startled every

one. After its exaltation it was concealed for several days, or only the cocked hat was allowed to be visible; but, by degrees, bolder grown, it was further exhibited. The effect was not exactly that of a blushing beauty slowly unveiled to admiring eyes, but rather that of an unfortunate object in the street whose sores are offensively exposed. It had been supposed that the precaution used was wisely adopted, lest the too sudden display of such a noble work of art "should dazzle with a luxury of light." It has, however, again been concealed; and now a huge square box appears on the summit of the column. It is not particularly ornamental; but unless something better can be presented than has yet been seen, it may as well be permanently fixed there.

GARDENING HINTS.

HOTHOUSES, CONSERVATORIES, &c. THE temperature of the stoves should not exceed 60° now by fire heat, and a fall of 10° may be allowed at night in very cold weather. Although all plants now at rest should be kept comparatively dry, they will require to be looked over daily, to see that they do not suffer for want of water, particularly those nearest the pipes and flues. Orchidaceae may be potted, tied up to logs, or fitted into wire baskets at any time when little can be done in the open air, but they need not be watered or enticed to grow for a long time.

Conservatory. Of all plant houses this requires the smallest quantity of air in winter. Plants thrive very well that do not receive air by ventilators for weeks together. To keep down dust-so injurious to plants-the paths should not be swept quite dry. Very little watering will do, and that should be nine or ten degrees

warmer than the temperature of the house, which should be about 45°.

Greenhouse -The temperature of this house should not be raised much above 40° now; the watering ought to be finished early in the day, and the plants should be constantly looked over to keep them free from dead leaves, insects, or soddened mould.

Cold Pits.-Half-hardy plants may be kept in these without artificial heating, but at the outset, notwithstanding all care, some of them may be lost; deaths, however, will occur in the best plant houses.

Forced Flowers.-Where forced flowers are in great request two divisions are necessary-one for such hardy plants as do not succeed in a high temperature, the other with means for bottom-heat, for Gardenias and other stove plants. Almost all plants, however, in forcing, are benefited by a mild bottom-heat.

FLOWER-GARDEN AND SHRUBBERIES.

Out-door Department.

After the late frost and snow but little can be done except in alterations and trenching of ground for planting; but it will be advisable to keep the frozen or snow-saturated surface soil at the top, as, if thrown into the bottom of the trenches,

it will remain cold for a long time. Keep the walks and grass neat and clean, to compensate a little for the want of flowers.

Reserve Garden.-Beds containing autumn-sown annuals should have a few branches of evergreens stuck into them to shade the plants from sunshine after frost, and to protect them from drying winds. Plants generally in the open air are tender this season.

Pits and Frames.-Secure the young stock of plants against frost, and give them all the air and light possible on fine days; keep them free from decayed leaves and moisture. Where Hydrangeas are required to turn into the beds in the flowergarden in April and May they must be Get dung put into the forcing-house. prepared, to form a propagating bed next month.

PINERIES, VINERIES, &c.

Pinery. If the fruiting-pit is kept at 60° by night it will be sufficient, raising it 5° or 10° by day, according to the clearness of the atmosphere. Take every favourable opportunity of admitting air; water sparingly with a fine rose pot; it is scarcely safe to use a coarse rose at this season. Keep a moist atmosphere, but be careful that steam is never of so great a density as to settle on the leaves, and run into the hearts of the plants. Maintain a steady heat of 80° in the tan, or soil if the pines are planted out. The young stock should not have more heat than is sufficient to keep them from going to rest;

57° by night is quite high enough during this month. The bottom-heat for the young succession plants may be kept about 76°. Keep a less moist atmosphere during this month, and admit fresh air on all favourable occasions.

Vinery.—Where the vines are showing keep a heat of 55° to 60° by night, and raise the heat in the morning 5 or 10 degrees. Admit fresh air during sunshine, which can be more safely done by opening each ventilator at the top of the house a little, than by one or two. Where the vines are now being started 45° to 50° will do for the first ten days or a fortnight, and if fermenting material can be conveniently used it will be beneficial to the vines. In whatever way the heat is applied be sure to keep a moist atmosphere. Cover the outside borders, if the roots extend into them, with litter and leaves, and of a sufficient thickness to cause a gentle heat to enter the border.

Peach-house.-If the buds are swelling, 50° by night may be maintained; sprinkle the trees frequently, and protect the roots from the effects of frost. It is an excellent plan to have a stock of peach trees in pots or tubs for the first early crop. If these are in bloom it will be well to assist the setting of the fruit by means of a camelhair pencil. Trees in bloom require a temperature of 57° by night and a rise of 5° of 10° by day with fire-heat, according to the state of the atmosphere.

Strawberries. -Bring some pots of the strongest plants into a pit or frame, where there is the means of supplying a gentle heat of 45° to 50°, giving plenty of air whenever the air is mild. Stir the surface of the soil in the pots, and top dress with some well-decayed manure and fragments of charcoal.

HARDY FRUIT AND KITCHEN GARDEN

All unoccupied ground ought to have been turned up by rough digging, trenching, or ridging, regulating these operations according to the character of the soil and the nature of preceding and contemplated future crops. Look to cauliflower plants under hand-lights, and those fit for use, as well as lettuces, endive, and radishes, in cold frames or turf pits, protecting those in the latter with straw, or reed covers neatly made, or with hurdles thatched with straw, or spruce-branches. Protect by throwing any loose litter over artichokes, asparagus, seakale, and rhubarb; not that the three latter will be injured by frost, but they will come in much earlier if the ground is not cooled to a low temperature. If not already done, seize the earliest opportunity of mild weather to sow the first crop of peas and beans, choosing for the main crop established early varieties. Defend celery from frost; it will keep good for a considerable time if

taken up with balls, placed upright in rows in a shed, and clean dry straw put between the rows, so as the heads do not touch each other. Examine and defend all stored roots and fruits.

Prune, nail, and plant. It is always advisable to get forward with these operations even before Christmas. Protect young newly-planted trees by mulching. The wood of peach trees will not be over well ripened this season in unfavourable situations. All the young shoots of peaches and apricots should have been unnailed some time ago. The free exposure of them would render them better hardened. In addition to this, the stems might be bound round, not over closely, with hard-twisted straw bands, and a little long litter thrown over the border to the width of four or five feet. Move soil, turn composts, and wheel manure. not forget to give a little manure as mulching or top-dressing to your strawberry-beds.

LORD MAYOR'S NEW YEAR STORIES.

Do

In the year 1633, Frederick Duke of Holstein sent ambassadors to the Great Duke of Muscovy and the Shah or King of Persia. Their travels were continued till 1639. Attached to the embassy was John Albert de Mandelslo, and when the mission ended he obtained permission to visit other parts of Asia by himself. From English merchants in the East Indies he received great attentions, and on his return he found his way to London. Such a traveller was of course one of the lions of the day; and on the 2nd of January, in the year 1640, he received an invitation from the Lord Mayor of London, Sir Edmund Wright, to visit him, which he and some of his friends accepted. "His lordship," says Mandelslo,

66

was excellent for discourse;" and having heard what dangers his guests had encountered, he undertook to show them that, great as they were, they were not equal to some with which he was acquainted. What he told shall be given in Mandelslo's words, who writes:

"He gave us the story of a Dutch seaman, who being condemned for a crime, his punishment was changed, and he was ordered to be left in St Helen's island, a place we have spoken of before. This unhappy person representing to himself the horror of that solitude much beyond what it really was, since it came not near that we shall have occasion to speak of anon, fell into a despair, that made him attempt the strangest action that ever was heard of.

"There had that day been interr'd in the same island an officer of the ship: this seaman took up the body out of the coffin,