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If he wasn't a twins, sure our history will
show

That at least he's worth any two saints that
we know!'

Then they all got blind dhrunk, which
completed their bliss,
And we keep up the practice from that day

to this."

written without a conscious effort to suit
them for the voice. Many of the verses in
this book have an ease and natural melody
from which we suspect that Mr. Lover has
a gift superior to art, though he modestly
ascribes his successes to cultivation and
Whatever be the plan upon
practice.
which he has worked, we are glad to thank
him for the result, and to wish that this, the
fifth edition of his book may be soon followed
by a sixth, in which he will have a further
opportunity of enforcing his theory by writ-
ing clever and pleasant ballads.

From The London Review. FARADAY.*

THIS sketch of the professional career of a great man who has recently gone from amongst us is in no sense biographical; and yet it is extremely personal. The narrative of Faraday's discoveries has been so cunningly interwoven by Professor Tyndall The ballads and verses of occasion inter- with suggestions of the idiosyncrasy of which spersed throughout this book do not strike they were the outward result, that instead us as being much above the average of such of a merely scientific treatise we have a compositions, although this must be said for story which has all the charms of a romance. them, that Mr. Lover, in every instance, dis- Materials for a life of Faraday, Professor plays the accomplishment of a thoroughly Tyndall tells us, were not in his hands; musical ear, and a nice sense of the best and the present volume, while laying before words for singing. The love-verses belong us many illustrations of Faraday's character to a school which has now passed away. and habits, will be chiefly valuable as an The lyrics of Bayley and his friends had attempt, by one of the very few men commuch of the finical sentiment of Mr. petent to make it, to trace the line at which Lover's, which seem cold when placed be- Faraday's researches and investigations side the hot-and-strong declarations of pas- passed into the domain of independent dission which young ladies and gentlemen are covery. The main facts of Faraday's life now enabled to shout or murmur from the are probably familiar to most of our readpianoforte. Occasionally, however, we come ers. They know that he was born at Newacross some which are certainly pretty, with ington Butts in 1791; that, at the age of a peculiar old-fashioned daintiness and deli- thirteen, he was apprenticed to a bookbindcacy about them. Mr. Lover, in his preface, er, a trade at which he worked for several says that his first object was to write years; that his ambition having been stirred "songs," i. e., songs which could be sung. by hearing Sir Humphrey Davy lecture, he This he has certainly succeeded in doing, as wrote to the lecturer, explaining how sick some of his ballads, "The Angel's Whisper" he was of trade, and how desirous of deand "Molly Bawn," for instance, have be- voting himself to science; that Sir Humcome household pieces in Irish and in many phrey engaged him as his assistant in the English drawing-rooms. But he is wrong Royal Institution, where he was paid so in selecting Milton as an example of a great much a week; and that during the course genius failing to write a good song. The lines in "Comus," which he contends would not easily lend themselves to vocalization, possess a music of their own which appears at once to the mind without passing through the sense of hearing. The best songs, even for singing, we suspect were

of a long life he worked indefatigably and gloriously in the fields of science, reaping such harvests there as are now known to all men. We know, too, that this man, whom Professor Tyndall holds to be “the greatest

*Faraday as a Discoverer, By John Tyndall. London: Longmans.

experimental philosopher the world has ever seen," died poor; but few of us were aware of the resolute self-denial by which that poverty was wilfully incurred. Faraday, Professor Tyndall tells us, was at one period of his life forced definitely to decide whether wealth or science should be the pursuit of his life. For a man to devote his life to art, science, or literature, in the face of being compelled to sacrifice money and comfort, is a form of sacrifice which is common around us which takes place constantly without the fact ever becoming known; but the present instance is so marked, and redounds so highly to the credit of one whom we have every other reason to honour, that we quote Professor Tyndall's words at length. Having shown that Faraday had "only to will it to raise in 1832 his professional business income to £5,000 a year," he proceeds to say :

day's mind as Professor Tyndall has done; an effort in analysis only possible to a strong sympathy and a cool judgment. "Theory," he says, in one place, “is the backward guess from fact to principle; the conjecture or divination regarding something which lies behind the facts, and from which they flow in necessary consequence." Elsewhere, he remarks that much nonsense is talked about induction and deduction, and thus explains Faraday's use of pure hypotheses: "He incessantly employed them to gain experimental ends, but he incessantly took them down, as an architect removes the scaffolding when the edifice is complete. Faraday himself, in fact, was always guessing by hypothesis,' and making theoretic divination the stepping-stone to his experimental results." Nor was he averse at times to merely theoretic disputation. The ordinarily accepted atomic theory, Professor Tyndall shows, received from his hand an "While restudying the Experimental Re- unanswerable blow. Dalton's celebrated searches with reference to the present memoir, theory is that matter consists of atoms comth: conversation with Faraday here alluded to bined according to certain unalterable procame to my recollection, and I sought to ascer- portions- a position which no one is likely tain the period when the question wealth or to dispute. But, matter being capable of science,' had presented itself with such emphasis to his mind. I fixed upon the year 1831 or expansion and compression, these ultimate 1832, for it seemed beyond the range of human atoms must be surrounded by space-they power to pursue science as he had done during must not touch each other; so that the interthe subsequent years, and to pursue commer atomic spaces constitute a continuous mesh cial work at the same time. To test this con- running through every body. Now, in the clusion I asked permission to see his accounts, case of a bar of conducting metal, when suband on my own responsibility I will state the mitted to electric action, this inter-atomic result. In 1832, his professional business-in-space acts as a conductor; whereas, in the come, instead of rising to £5,000, or more, fell case of a non-conducting substance, it bef om £1,090. 4s. to £155. 9s. From this it fell, comes an insulator. Here, according to with slight oscillations, to £92 in 1837, and to zero in 1838. Between 1839 and 1845, it never, Faraday, is a subversion of the atomic theexcept in one instance, exceeded £22; being, ory; for if space be an insulator it cannot for the most part, much under this. The ex-exist in conducting bodies, and if it be a ceptional year referred to was that in which he and Sir Charles Lyell were engaged by Government to write a report on the Haswell Colliery explosion, and then his business-income rose to £112. From the end of 1845 to the day of his death, Faraday's annual professional business-income was exactly zero. Taking the duration of his life into account, this son of a blacksmith, and apprentice to a bookbinder, had to decide between a fortune of £150,000 on the one side, and his undowered science on the other. He chose the latter, and died a poor But his was the glory of holding aloft among the nations the scientific name of England for a period of forty years."

man.

We scarcely know whether the present volume is more valuable as a record of the definite achievements of Faraday or as an index to his method. No one but a man of large intellectual grasp could so clearly and vividly have laid down the habit of Fara

conductor it cannot exist in insulating bodies." It would be beyond our present object to attempt to give here any sketch of Faraday's own idea of matter; but we should commend it to the consideration of such metaphysicians as may be disposed to side with the author of "The World, Dynamical and Immaterial.”

The practical consequences of Faraday's discoveries have so long been familiar to us that there is a quaint pleasure in trying to recall the time in which these discoveries were unknown, and in tracing, with Professor Tyndall, the progressive steps by which Faraday arrived at them. No man seems to have been more distrustful of a theory; and no man seems to have been so perpetually, and perhaps unconsciously, theorizing. The flashes of inspiration by which he anticipated certain truths bear continual testimony to the presence of that inscrutable

power we call genius. They who consider imagination a reconstructed memory, and invention a new combination of old experiences, will here find plenty to puzzle over; nor will they want every scientific aid to the nvestigation in the singularly clear and able memoir which Professor Tyndall has compiled. The ordinary reader, also, who takes up this volume will find much to interest him will find, amid the chronicles of scientific discovery, the tender reminiscences of a true friendship, worthy alike of the man who inspired it and of him who now commemorates it. With one expression of this kindly appreciation we must close our notice of a little volume which is sure to have many

readers.

dis

we are far from considering Walt Whitman the merely blatant egotist which many English critics would have him to be; and we are glad that an opportunity presents itself to the ordinary English reader of estimating for himself the value of a writer who is almost new to us. Nor should we be surprised if the publication of this volume procure for its author a complete reversal of that vague opinion of himfounded almost entirely on hearsay which has hitherto been current in this country. Walt Whitman is not an inflated Tupper. He is nebulous, mystical, some times incoherent, often laboriously tinet" without being "clear" according to Leibnitz's fine definition but at no time does he fail to impress his reader with the sense that here is a man of power, a man capable of producing a definite impression on the mind. This is a result which never accrues from commonplace. Walt Whitman is, indeed, the Turner of poets. Sometimes you find a mere blurred mass of colour; then an incomprehensible blaze of light; then a piece of apparent commonplace; and then a picture which overawes the beholder. You may come to these studies with any mood of mind, and find it gratified. They will afford material for jokes; they will offer proof of the author's entire ignorance of or contempt for system and precedent; they will justify the wildest praise and the bitterest abuse. are possibilities one does not find in commonplace; whatever the work is, it cannot be that. We have more than once seen the rather curious objection preferred against Walt Whitman, that the impression be produced on his admirers is simply owing to his talking largely and being incompreFrom The London Review. hensible. That, however, is a form of literature with which so many modern writers have made us familiar, that every reader can at once deny the fact of any impression being produced by such easy authorship beyond that of insufferable weariness. The ordinary graces of poetry are not to be found in these poems. They are, as we have said, without system or precedent; the utterances of a man with individual, but in himself as a spokesman of an amazing belief, not in himself as an a new country and a new time.

"We have heard much," says Professor Tyndall," of Faraday's gentleness and sweetness and tenderness. It is all true, but it is very incomplete. You cannot resolve a powerful nature into these elements, and Faraday's character would have been less admirable than it was had it not embraced forces and tendencies to which the silky adjectives 'gentle' and 'tender' would by no means apply. Underneath his sweetness and gentleness was the heat of a volcano. He was a man of excitable and fiery nature; but through high self-discipline he had converted the fire into a central glow and motive power of life, instead of permitting it to waste itself in useless passion. He that is slow to anger,' saith the sage, is greater than the mighty; and he that ruleth his own spirit than he that taketh a city.' Faraday was not slow to anger, but he completely ruled his own spirit, and thus, though he took no cities, he captivated

all hearts."

WALT WHITMAN.*

THIS edition of Walt Whitman's

poems

has been specially prepared for the British public, is weeded of those pieces the occasional phraseology of which was found, in former instances, to shock many people, and contains specimens of every thing that is characteristic in the American poet's writings. Of pruned editions we have, generally speaking, an abhorrence; but in this case several chance expressions which Walt Whitman permitted himself were so very rude that his poems, as a whole, were deprived of that fair judgment which by right belongs to every artistic work. Now

Poems by Walt Whitman. Selected and Edited by W. M. Rossetti. London: John Camden

Hotten.

These

"And I too of the Manahatta, singing thereof - and no less in myself than the whole of the Manahatta in itself."

Neither the dreams of Novalis nor the later speculations of Faraday are to be

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"All architecture is what you do to it when you look upon it;

Did you think it was in the white or grey stone? or the lines of the arches and cornices?

All music is what awakes from you when you

are reminded by the instruments.”

Anthropomorphism of a subtle and indefinite kind seems to be his principal theme; an anthropomorphism, however, differing widely from that of the sensationalists. According to him, "objects gross and the unseen Soul are one;" while, as to spiritual

creations:

"We consider bibles and religions divine-I do not say they are not divine; I say they have all grown out of you, and may grow out of you still; It is not they who give the life- it is you who give the life;

Leaves are not more shed from the trees, or trees from the earth, than they are shed out of you."

As specimen of what may be called his "prophetic manner," take the following striking passage, full of a shadowy, but real and impressive force:

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"What whispers are these, O lands, running ahead of you, passing under the seas? Are all nations communing? Is there going to be but one heart to the globe? Is humanity forming en masse? for lo! tyrants tremble, crowns grow dim; The earth, restive, confronts a new era, perhaps a general divine war; No one knows what will happen nextportents fill the days and nights. Years prophetical! the space ahead as I walk, as I vainly try to pierce it, is full of phantoms;

-

such

Unborn deeds, things soon to be, project their shapes around me ;

This incredible rush and heat-this strange ecstatic fever of dreams, O years! Your dreams, O years, how they penetrate through me (I know not whether I sleep or wake!)

The performed America and Europe grow dim, retiring in shadow behind me; The unperformed, more gigantic than ever, advance, advance upon me."

Such is the cumbrous and ungainly "method" of Walt Whitman's utterance; and that again is not unfrequently rendered more forbidding by an unnecessary diffuseness and what seems to us to be an intentional vagueness. That the writer of these poems

if poems they are to be called — is worthy of greater attention than has yet been pail him in England we endeavoured to show in a former article. For him, as for any other writer, we would bespeak a patient hearing. The material which he offers us is so novel and so bold, that we are ready to distrust any immediate critical estimate, and would fain see Walt Whitman pass into the crucible of popular reading. Mr. Rossetti, we think, has done his editorial work in this case rendered peculiarly difficult-well ; and we recommend the reader to pay careful attention to Mr. Rossetti's appreciation and yet impartial judgment of Whitman in the preface to the book. We should have preferred to the engraved portrait of Walt the striking and picturesque photograph of Whitman in the present volume a copy of the former will give the English reader some him lately taken in New York; but even slight indications of the poet's features and expression. In other respects the edition is nicely got up; and we have no hesitation in com mending it as an excellent index to the writings of a man who cannot be overlooked.

GREAT FERMENTATION IN CHINA. "Beer has been successfully brewed at Shanghai.' -Reuter's Telegrams.

FOR" the cup that cheers," in spite of your jeers,

I shall never be loth to speak up; But I thought till to-day, in the land of Cathay, That the cup, so famed, was a tea-cup. The only brew John Chinaman knew,

I'd have wagered a pound of Hyson, Was the tea of that ik, which, with sugar and milk,

Is a pleasantly negatived p'ison. But it seems that a gent, from Burton-on-Trent, Connected with one of the ale men, BASS, ALLSOPP, or SALT, the uses of malt Has imparted un-to the pig-tail-men.

- Fun.

From The Spectator, March 14. | legislate for British America, and not for

THE GRAND REMONSTRANCE FROM

NOVA SCOTIA.

THERE is going to be trouble, it may be serious trouble, about this Nova Scotian business. The 350,000 of inhabitants in that colony were, it will be remembered, always more or less hostile to the plan of Confederation. A vote of the Assembly was, we believe, taken, though this is now denied; but it was always understood that considerable pressure had been exercised from home, and that the relations between the Dominion and this particular province would for a time be delicate and insecure. Since the Act was passed, however, constituting the Canadas a Dominion, the Nova Scotians have become more hostile than ever, and they are now in a temper which, if we may trust the members of their legislature, is little short of rebellious. They declare that they have been "ceded to Canada," that they are ruled by Canadians," that the tariff is ridiculously heavy, that their revenue is stolen at Ottawa, that they will have to provide for local expenditure by direct taxes, and that they will not put up with the oppression. Every county has voted for the Repeal of the Dominion Act, the Attorney-General has declared from his place in the Assembly that the Imperial Parliament has exceeded its powers, and the local Government has been compelled to send home Mr. Howe as its agent to obtain a repeal of the obnoxious Act. The colonists expect that they will be able to offer reasons which Parliament will at once accept, and that the Act will be repealed in "two months;" and it is clear that the first of these reasons is a menace that if the Act is not repealed, and repealed at once, Nova Scotia, with its great fleet and large maritime population, with its splendid harbours and geographical command over Newfoundland and Prince Edward's Island, will declare its desire to be annexed to the United States. The Attorney-General almost says so in so many words, and draws a striking picture of the immense addition which Nova Scotia would bring to the naval power of the Union, an increase doubled by the fact that every sailor and ship so obtained would be withdrawn from the resources of Great Britain.

Much of all this, no doubt, is "tall talk," produced by irritation rather than by reason. The Nova Scotians are not Americans in sympathy, and when the time comes for action they will see that Great Britain must

them exclusively; that annexation would certainly not lower their tariff, would not render them independent, and would subject them to that direct taxation which they so greatly and, as we think, so unreasonably dread. But there is no doubt that a majority of the colonists are exceedingly irritated; that they have got the unfortunate idea into their heads which produced the White Mutiny in India-that they have been transferred from one allegiance to another "like cattle "in a disrespectful manner-and that they are profoundly exasperated by financial arrangements which, as they say, impose all the burdens incident to a great State, without yielding any of its advantages. Untaxed trade with the Union would, they say, compensate for any tariff; if they must be subjects, they will be subjects of a great nation," and not of drunken Canadian plunderers; " and the Union would make of Halifax one of the greatest ports in the world. If they are not attended to, or treated with the usual carelessness of the Colonial Office, they may be hurried into some act which would entail the most disastrous consequences both upon us and upon themselves. For Nova Scotia is probably the only Saxon colony which Great Britain, if pushed to extremity, might be compelled to coerce. She could not submit to alter a law which partakes in large measure of the character of a treaty, to abandon an imperial policy, and to break her pledges to the Canadians under a menace of this kind, nor could she consent to let Nova Scotia go free. The whole Dominion might go, if it chose to notify such a desire in a legal and constitutional manner; but to lose a most valuable colony without the compensation of freedom from dangers in America; to give up the house key, yet not be rid of the hall; to surrender genuine maritime resources, yet have still to defend provinces without a ship, would be an intolerable position. The country would not attempt to endure it, yet any coercion of Nova Scotia for wishing to enter the Union might irretrievably embarrass our relations with the United States. The Government of Washington would, no doubt, acknowledge that we had the same right to coerce a revolted colony that itself had to coerce the South; but the sound of the cannon irritates men's minds. There are Fenians only waiting an opportunity, and in an hour Great Britain might be engaged in the most terrible struggle she has ever waged. Even if this contingency never occurred, nothing could be more unfortunate,

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