Page images
PDF
EPUB

tites. When these bodies are heated red hot, and combined with a very small quantity of boracic acid (without which they are not conductors), the galvanic battery produces an evolution of inflammable matter, which burns with a deep red light at the negative surface. The heat prevented Mr Davy from collecting this substance; but there can be little doubt of its being the basis of the earths. Further experiments have, we understand, enabled Mr Davy, since the date of this paper, both to decompose, in a satisfactory manner, the two earths in question; and also to show, that the other alkaline earths are oxydes of highly combustible metals. We hope soon to see the history of those researches; and can scarcely entertain any doubt, that other bodies, hitherto deemed simple, or, if suspected to be compound, yet never analyzed, will speedily yield to the powers either of the highly inflammable metals now discovered, or of that most singular agent by which this discovery has been made. Mr Davy has already decomposed carbonic acid by means of those metals; and has oxydated them by muriatic acid, though without collecting the results. We are sure every chemist now expects to see this acid, as well as the fluoric, soon classed under the general law of oxydation, applicable to all other saline bodies. It is by no means improbable that charcoal itself, hitherto regarded as the most refractory of all substances, may be decomposed by the new instruments; and that the means of obtaining it pure, and even chrystallized, shall at last be found a discovery which, as our readers well know, would enable art to vie with nature in the fabrication of her most valuable produce.

Until we have the good fortune to possess Mr Davy's account of his recent experiments on the alkaline earths, we must defer all remarks suggested by the brilliant train of discoveries analyzed in the foregoing pages. The season for theorizing will come best, after we have still further extended our view of the facts.

ART. VIII: The Cottagers of Glenburnie: a Tale, &c. By Elizabeth Hamilton, Author of the Elementary Principles of Education, Memoirs of Modern Philosophers, &c. &c. 8vo. pp. 402. Manners & Miller, Edinburgh; Cadell & Davies, London. 1808.

WE

E have not met with any thing nearly so good as this, since we read the Castle Rackrent and the Popular Tales of Miss Edgeworth. This contains as admirable a picture of the Seotish peasantry as those works do of the Irish; and rivals them,

C c 2

not

not only in the general truth of the delineations, and in the cheerfulness and practical good sense of the lessons which they convey, but in the nice discrimination of national character, and the skill with which a dramatic representation of humble life is saved from caricature and absurdity.

After having given this just and attractive description of the book, we have a sort of malicious pleasure in announcing to our Southern readers, that it is a sealed book to them; and that, until they take the trouble thoroughly to familiarize themselves with our antient and venerable dialect, they will not be able to understand three pages of it. To such as are engaged in that interesting study, we recommend it as a specimen of the purest and most characteristic Scotch which we have lately met wit. in writing; and have much satisfaction in thinking of the singular refreshment and delight which it must afford to our worthy countrymen abroad, by setting before them, in such clear and lively colours, those simple and peculiar manners with which their youth was familiar. This sentimental purpose it may serve well enough in its present form; but if Mrs Hamilton really wishes it to be of use to our peasants at home, (and we think it is capable of being very useful), she must submit to strike out all the scenes in upper life, and to print the remainder upon coarse paper, at such a price as may enable the volume to find its way into the cottage library. In order to encourage her to take this trouble, and to make the book known to the clergymen and resident proprietors who have it in their power to introduce it where it may be of use, we shall make a short abstract of its contents, giving due warn ing to our polite readers, that it relates to the comforts of real cottagers, and the best methods of rearing honest ploughmen and careful nursery-maids.

Mrs Mason, a native of Scotland, and a person of great worth and discretion, had lived long as a domestic in a noble and amiable family in England, where she had rendered herself unusualy respectable by her faithful and zealous services. Having quitted this situation with a very slender annuity, she is naturally led to seck a retirement in her native country; and proposes to board herself with a cousin, who, she understands, is married to a small farmer in the vicinity of her birth-place. To Glenburnie, accordingly, she comes, under the protection of a worthy gentleman in the neighbourhood; and takes up her residence with her cousin Mrs MacClarty. Here the interest and the instruction of the description begin. Her habits of cleanliness and domestic order make her more than usually sensible of the slovenliness and discomfort of a Scotish cottage; and her long experience of the benefits of early steadiness in the management of children, render

her

her more alive to the pernicious effects of indulgence and inattention. The object of the book is to make our peasantry sensible of their errors in these particulars; and to convince them with how little exertion they may be remedied. The picture of their actual practices and notions is drawn, as we have already said, with admirable liveliness and fidelity, and without any attempt to produce effect by the broad glare of exaggeration. Full credit is given for their real merits; and, even when their faults are displayed, the amiable or respectable traits in their character are brought forward along with them. Mrs MacClarty, who is the chief representative of the Scotish party, is extremely good tempered, active, and indulgent to her children; but altogether insensible of the disadvantages of dirtiness, and attached to old ways with so narrow and obstinate a bigotry, as to resent all attempts at the most obvious improvements. So she not only keeps her hands unwashed, and her butter full of hairs, but allows her children to take their own way so entirely in every thing, that her eldest son gets drunk and enlists, and her husband dies of a fever caught in striving to deliver him, and of the suffocation occasioned by his wife's over-care of him. After a long and patient experiment, Mrs Mason finds her kinswoman incurable; and, quite disgusted with the filth and discord of her habitation, transfers her residence to the cottage of another villager, to whom she speedily communicates her own taste for neatness and regularity; and, having got the clergyman to concur with her in his appointment as schoolmaster, gradually introduces a reformation in the domestic economy and education of the whole neighbourhood.

There is no great merit, of course, in the plan of such a story; and of the execution, excellent as it is, we scarcely think it would be fair to give any considerable specimen, considering the small number of readers to whom the language can be intelligible. However, as we sometimes take the liberty to quote a page or two of Latin and Italian, we shall venture upon a few sentences, for the satisfaction of those who can judge of them. We may begin with Mrs Mason's debut in the Glen. She and her conductor are suddenly stopped, by finding a wooden bridge on the road broken down, and a cart overturned beside it. While they are contemplating this scene of disaster, they suddenly hear

- a child's voice in the hollow exclaiming, " Come on, ye muckle brute ! ye had as weel come on! I'll gar ye! I'll gar ye! That's a gude beast now; come awa! That's it! Ay, ye're a gude beast now." As the last words were uttered, a little fellow of about ten years of age was seen issuing from the hollow, and pulling after him, with all his might, a great long-backed clumsy animal of the horse speces, though apparently of a very mulish temper. "You have mot

Cc 3

with

[ocr errors]

with a sad accident," said Mr Stewart; "how did all this happen?" "You may see how it happened, plain eneugh," returned the boy; "the brig brak, and the cart couppet. "And did you and the horse coup likewise?" said Mr Stewart. "O aye, we a' couppet thegether, for I was riding on his back.” "And where is your father, and all the rest of the folk?" "Whar sud they be but in the hay-field? Dinna ye ken that we're taking in our hay? John Tamson's and Jamie Forster's was in a wook syne, but we're ay ahint the lave." All the party were greatly amused by the composure which the young peasant evinced under his misfortune, as well as by the shrewdness of his answers; and having learned from him, that the hay-field was at no great distance, gave him some halfpence to hasten his speed, and promised to take care of his horse till he should return with assistance. He soon appeared, followed by his father, and two other men, who came on, stepping at their usual pace. "Why, farmer," said Mr Stewart," you have trusted rather too long to this rotten plank, I think," (pointing to where it had given way), "If you remember the last time I passed this road, which was several months since, I then told you that the bridge was in danger, and showed you how easily it might be repaired?" "It is aw true," said the farmer, moving his bonnet; " but I thought it would do weel enough. I spoke to Jamie Forster and John Tamson about it; but they said they wad na fash themselves to mend a brig that was to serve a' the folk in the Glen. " "But you must now mend it for your own sake," said Mr Stewart, "even though a the folk in the Glen should be the better for it. Bring down the planks that I saw lying in the barn-yard, and which, though you have been obliged to step over them every day since the stack they propped was taken in, have never been lifted. You know what I mean. "O yes, Sir," said the farmer, grinning, « we ken what ye mean weel eneugh; and indeed I may ken, for I have fallen thrice ow're them since they lay there; and often said they sud be set by, but we çou'dna, be fashed." p. 130--133.

This is an out-of-doors picture. In their way into the house, they had to wade through a kind of dunghill and filthy pool that was collected opposite to the door, and then stumbled over a great iren pot, in which a whole brood of chickens were feeding, in the dark passage. On their arrival,

Mrs Mason soon saw, that the place they were in served in the triple capacity of kitchen, parlour, and bedroom. Its furniture was suitably abundant. It consisted, on one side, of a dresser, over which were shelves filled with plates and dishes, which she supposed to be of pewter; but they had been so bedimmed by the quantities of flies that sat upon them, that she could not pronounce with certainty as to the metal they were made of. On the shelf that projected immediately next the dresser, was a number of delf and wooden bowls, of different dimensions, with hern spoons, &c. These,

though

though arranged with apparent care, did not entirely conceal from view the dirty nightcaps, and other articles, that were stuffed in behind. Opposite the fire-place were two beds, each enclosed in a sort of wooden closet, so firmly built as to exclude the entrance of a breath of air, except in front, where were small folding doors, which were now open, and exhibited a quantity of yarn hung up in bunches, affording proof of the goodwife's husbandry. The portable furni ture, as chairs, tables, &c., were all, though clumsy, of good mate. rials; so that Mrs Mason thought the place wanted nothing but a little attention to neatness, and some more light, to render it tolerably comfortable. When the tea was about to be made, Mrs MacClarty stepped to a huge Dutch press, and having, with some difficulty, opened the leaves, took from a store of nice linen, which it presented to their view, a fine damask napkin, of which she begged her to make use. "You have a noble stock of linen, cousin, " said Mrs Mason. "Few farmers houses in England could produce the like; but I think this is rather too fine for common use." "For common use!" cried Mrs MacClarty; " na, na, we're no sic fools as put our napery to use! I have a dizen table-claiths in that press therty years old, that were never laid upon a table. They are a' o' my mother's spinning. I have nine o' my ain makin' forby, that never saw the sun but at the bookin washing. Ye need na be telling us of England!" "It is no doubt a good thing," said Mrs Mason, "to have a stock of goods of any kind, provided one has a prospect of turning them to account; but I confess I think the labour unprofitably employed, which during thirty years is to produce no advantage; and that linen of an inferior quality would be preferable, as it would certainly be more useful. A towel of nice clean huck-a-back would wipe a cup as well, and better, than a damask napkin." "Towels!" cried Mrs MacClarty, " na, na, we manna pretend to towels; we just wipe up the things wi' what comes in the gait." On saying this, the good woman, to show how exactly she practised what she spoke, pulled out from between the seed-tub, and her husband's dirty shoes (which stood beneath the bench by the fire-side), a long blackened rag, and with it rubbed one of the pewter plates, with which she stepped into the closet for a roll of butter. p. 143-146.

The butter was full of hairs: and poor Mrs Mason's room littered with new shorn wool, hung with cobwebs, and without a window that could be opened. Her morning adventures, however, are more characteristic of the people.

She awoke late; and on perceiving, when about half dressed, that she had in her room neither water nor hand-bason to wash in, she threw on her dimity bedgown, and went out to the kitchen, to procure a supply of these necessary articles. She there found Meg and Jean; the former standing at the table, from which the porridge-dishes seemed to have been just removed; the latter killing

Cc 4

flies

« PreviousContinue »