was supposed-about 8,000,000 tons, which will probably be exhausted in about eight years. Notwithstanding that specimens of bats' guano have been sent over from Penang, and that great deposits are said to be scattered about the Indian archipelago, it seems desirable that other substances should be lorked for as a means of fertilising our fields. In these circumstances, we hear with interest of plans for obtaining artificial manure from the abundant fish of our seas, and from the sewage of our large towns. We are certainly on the eve of realising some of these plans. The same society have had their attention drawn to certain remarkable phenomena witnessed in the treacle stores of the London Docks. In 1849, 110 casks of molasses, containing altogether 1270 hundredweights, were stowed away in the usual manner. In September 1851, an increase of weight was observed, when the casks were re-coopered. In February 1852, they were again weighed, and again was there an increase of weight, amounting on the whole to 234 hundredweights; or more, for in some instances it had no more than made up for leakage. Another squadron of 347 casks, weighing 4160 hundredweights, were also stowed away in July 1849, and reweighed in September 1852, when some were so swollen, that the heads bulged as though overfull, and on starting the bung, the molasses spurted upwards for several feet like a fountain. These casks weighed 12 hundredweights each: the greater number had gained from 1 pound to 30, and nearly 100 from 30 to 51 pounds, the total gain being 56 hundredweights. In a third instance, the increase ranged from 23 pounds to 68 pounds, an extraordinary result. A remarkable property of absorption is said to be the cause, and most powerful in the casks made of Quebec pine. It is well known that the Davy-lamp used by miners, with all its merits, was not free from imperfections, and that many attempts have been made to improve upon it. Among the latest is the safety-lamp exhibited by Dr Glover at a meeting of the Society of Arts. It has two glass cylinders-the outer one, a quarter-inch thick; the inner, one-eighth, kept in place by a fitting of wiregauze. The air descends between the two, and passes through the gauze to feed the flame from below, which insures almost entire combustion, while by this arrangement the lamp becomes less heated than the Davy, and can be held in the hand. There is safety in the two cylinders, since if the outer one should be broken by a drop of water falling on it while heated, the other suffices to prevent mischief until a new one can be fitted. Another means of safety is, that whenever the lamp is surrounded by an explosive gas, the flame is at once extinguished by a tin cone attached to the gauze; and moreover, the flame goes out should the miner attempt to light his pipe by it. From the trials made, this improved lamp appears well adapted to its purpose, in increased brilliance of light, as well as other respects. It may be well, however, to mention, that a safety-lamp on the lock-spring principle,' was exhibited at the last meeting of the Royal Cornwall Polytechnic Society, by Mr E. Simons, of Birmingham, who placed it in a stream of hydrogen gas, and shewed its construction to be such, that the least attempt on the part of the miner to open the lamp would cause the light to be extinguished.' There were a few instances of self-educated endeavour brought before the same meeting that are deserving of notice: one, a man of the coast-guard, who had prepared the skeleton of a porpoise in a way superior to anything of the kind yet accomplished, the fins and pelvic bone being retained in their place. Besides the prize awarded to him, a number of his specimens have been purchased for the British Museum, the chiefs of that establishment being well satisfied with the skilful preparations. Another example was a model of a mine and its machinery by a working-mechanic, described as both novel and ingenious, and displaying an amount of perseverance and talent of no ordinary kind.' There is talk of establishing a School of Mines for Cornwall at Truro: judging from appearances, we may believe that there will be no lack of intelligent students. We may add also, before quitting this subject, that an important machine has been brought into use for drying the 'china clay,' of which 80,000 tons or more are exported every year from different ports of Cornwall, chiefly to Staffordshire for use in the Potteries. The usual method has been to prepare the clay, and leave it to dry by the natural process-one which, as it frequently demanded six or eight months, involved great loss of time. The machine now used is similar in principle to that employed for drying clothes after washing: the lumps of clay are placed in the compartments made to receive them, the apparatus is then rotated with great velocity, which throws off the water by centrifugal force, and in this way two tons of clay can be dried in five minutes. Seeing that more than L.200,000 is spent annually in Cornwall in 'getting' and preparing this clay for the market, any shortening of the process must lead to important consequences. The same principle has been introduced in the drying of manufactured sugar with considerable advantage. The rearing of fish is about to have a fair trial at Storemountfield on the Tay, where a salmon-nursery has been formed, with 400,000 eggs, all duly fecundated by the artificial process, and now going through the stages towards hatching in the spring. If but one-half of the young fry come forth and survive, there will be good reason for repeating the experiment. Across the Channel, there is a scheme for naturalising the sturgeon, and the saluth, a large fish from the Swiss lakes-in the rivers of France. Should it succeed to any extent, we shall be able to get caviare and isinglass without sending to Astrakan for them. It is thought that, as the Rhône has no mills or factories along the greater part of its course, parks or conservatories of fish may be laid off in suitable places, and attempts made to cross different breeds, as is practised successfully by the Chinese. The Dutch government has just established two of these fish-nurseries in the neighbourhood of the Hague; so that we may hope to see erelong to what extent it is possible to add by this means to our food resources. Assam, in addition to tea, has sent over fifteen bales of Rheea grass, the same as that from which the muchtalked of 'grass-cloth' is made. It may be used also for other purposes; for it is said to be superior to Russian hemp, and cheaper, and producible in large quantities. Madeira, too, is sending us more of her produce in the shape of pine-apples and oranges, to make up for her losses by the grape disease. Apropos of this malady, it has been stated that it can be cured or prevented by a solution of the higher sulphides of calcium. Vines washed with this solution continued to flourish, while others, purposely left untouched, suffered severely. M. Bobièrre, a chemist at Nantes, says that bronze is much more lasting and serviceable as sheathing for ships than copper or brass. M. Nicklès is still working at his experiments in magnetising the driving-wheels of locomotives. He has made some trials on the Paris and Lyon Railway; and now, having arrived at a better knowledge of circular electro-magnets, he thinks certain difficulties may be overcome. The object aimed at, is to increase the 'bite' of the wheels upon the rails. 'I shall not rest satisfied,' he says, 'until it has become easy to use gradients of more than ten millimetres to the metre, and until it shall become no longer necessary to construct tunnels at great expense, or to build extensive earthworks, or make curves of large radius.' With respect to the electro-chemical engine that has been a good deal talked about for the past few weeks, some of our ablest mechanicians deny the possibility of an apparatus that shall, as fast as galvanic effect is obtained, reproduce the liquids still as active as before. If this be possible, the perpetual motion is achieved. The project for an atmospheric conveyance-tube between New York and Boston, has advanced into the company stage with a prospect of being carried out. The tube, when complete, will be 200 miles in length; and small parcels are to be sent from one end to the other in fifteen minutes by the force of compressed air. It is a scheme worthy of American enterprise, which has just produced a tunnelling machine, compared with which all other contrivances for boring holes in the globe are mere gimlets. It is made of iron, works by steam, and weighs seventy-five tons. The cutters are steel disks, which revolve with 'irresistible power,' and carve an opening seventeen feet in diameter, through the hardest rock, at the rate of about three feet in two hours;' and with the attendance of only four men. A 'mechanical nautilus,' a new kind of diving-bell, has also been contrived, which can be moved from place to place, or kept stationary at any point between the surface of the water and the bottom with great facility. A report states that treasure, pearl-shells, coral, sponges, and all products under water, may be easily gathered, and sent to the surface without requiring the machine to rise. It has an arrangement which permits the digging of trenches, by which telegraph wires and water-pipes may be placed below the reach of anchors.' In short, there is no under-water employment for which it is not available. It has room for ten persons, and will rise from a depth of thirty feet in four seconds. Without necessarily disparaging the machine here described, which appears to be constructed with remarkable ingenuity, we may remind our readers that Mr Babbage suggested something very similar, nearly thirty years ago, in his article Diving-bell, in the Encyclopædia Metropolitana. 6 Agassiz is making known to the savans of Europe and America, that he is preparing a Natural History of the Fishes of the United States. He has just described a new species of fish sent to him from California, perchlike in appearance, and from ten to twelve inches long, which brings forth its young alive. It is believed that the auriferous state contains many other curiosities of natural history; and now that an Academy of Natural Sciences has been established at San Francisco, they will probably not long remain unknown. The Photographic Exhibition held at Suffolk Street has proved successful, if only in demonstrating the real advancement made in that interesting art. Apparatus is simplified, landscapes more beautiful than ever have been taken, and life-size portraits can now be produced. WEARYFOOT COMMON. CHAPTER III. A WEARYFOOT EMEUTE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. Ir is a curious fact in the natural history of little girls, that although they are passionately attached to young children, the feeling gradually changes to downright hostility as these creep up into the category of great boys. The great boy, on his part, can hardly be said to reciprocate the enmity; or at least his dislike is so much chastened with contempt as to change its character. He merely pooh-poohs the little girl. He looks upon her as a naturally inferior animal-inferior in wisdom, courage, and strength; and it is not till he has left great boyhood behind, that he finds out his mistake. Then he begins to blush and falter in the presence of the expanded weakling; then he pays obedience to the lightest look of this lower nature; then he dedicates to her service, and makes her own, all those qualities on the exclusive possession of which he had prided himself; then he acknowledges in his heart-yea, in his heart of hearts-the supremacy of womanhood. Sara at first shrunk from the great boy, as she called him, although he was probably very little older than herself; and Bob, after looking at her by the hour tili he had learned her entirely by heart, turned away, with a kind of good-humoured disdain, to his books, or his fencing, or his chess. But he gradually discovered in Sara something that was necessary to his progress. She was much further advanced than himself in various kinds of knowledge, because what she knew she had learned methodically from its earliest rudiments. She was acquainted with at least the first lines of sciences-for instance, astronomy and botany—of which he knew nothing more than the names; and what was of still more consequence, she possessed a large collection of those multifarious school-books that are used in modern education. Sara thus acquired more and more consequence in his eyes every day; not in her own individuality, but as something which he instinctively felt to be necessary to the satisfaction of the blind, unconscious longings of his intellectual nature. The little girl, on her part, pale, timid, and retiring, began erelong to fancy that after all there was nothing so excessively disagreeable in the great boy, who asked her questions, listened to her replies with calm attention, and received with thankfulness the loan of her books. To confer favours on a great boy changed entirely the relations between them; and by degrees Sara began to reap the advantage of being obliged to revert to the lessons she would otherwise soon have forgotten, in order to teach them to one whose natural gifts quickly books together, looked at the stars together, botanised carried both beyond them. The children studied in in the wood together. Elizabeth had a new listener; the captain another pupil in chess; and, to the extravagant delight of the veteran, Bob taught the little girl to fence, while she taught him to dance to her aunt's mechanical drumming on the piano. worth mentioning in the life of this simple family, that It is a trait Molly, after having been drilled for a week or two in private by Sara, was frequently called into the room to sustain a part in the dance, when it was necessary to make a second couple out of a movable partner and a chair. It must be added, that Molly, although at first frightened, nervous, and astonished, and eliciting far more laughter than applause, took at last to the exercise with such good-will, that it produced a manifest change for the better in her air and carriage. And no wonder; for her performances in the room were repeated step for step before Mrs Margery in the kitchen; and at other times, too, when she had nothing special in hand, or when the idea came spontaneously into her head, she would rush suddenly out to the middle of the floor, to the great annoyance of Mr Poringer, and indulge in a skip on her own account. All this time the good captain had never once thought of sending his protégé to school, or getting a governess for his niece. His sister, he considered, was all-sufficient in the latter capacity, for there was no end of her homilies; and as for the boy, was he not under his own special care-under the care of a man who had seen the world at home and abroad? The two children would thus have entirely lost some important time, had it not been for the restlessness of mind of the young son of the mist, who was never easy but when groping after knowledge of some kind. CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. But matters were not destined to continue always The visits of the neighbours were very unfrequent, Still, the neighbours did not know what to do, 6 'No,' replied the captain. 'A relative, though, of course,' said the doctor, moving up to the support of his spouse. 'No relation at all.' 'Oh!' Here the visitors exchanged looks, and an 'No more I had,' said the captain-'no more I was: 'I regret, sir,' said the rector gravely, that I cannot join you in this facetiousness. Your conduct towards the boy, or your motives for it, no one here, I am sure, was quite unnecessary; but we cannot help feeling desired to inquire into. Your explanation, therefore, for the poor little girl, the daughter of your deceased brother, whom you have determined to bring up in such society.' And where's the harm? Bob is a very good fellow, and a very clever fellow; he teaches her more than she no girl ever was before; and of an evening they sing, teaches him; he makes her a capital fencer-a thing and then they dance, with nobody but themselves, and 'Where's the harm, indeed!' repeated Mrs Seacole, the chair, and poor Molly, and--and where's the harm?' tossing her head. Oh, you are all too bad!' cried the doctor's wife: it is nothing but a mystery, and I do so love a 'Robert Oaklands, ma'am,' replied Bob, rising remystery! Come here, Master Robert, and tell us what your name is.' spectfully. ་ And whose son are you?' Captain Semple's, ma'am.' The company looked at each other, and then at the captain, who blushed ferociously. 'He means what my sister calls metaphorical,' said he in confusion. 'Go on, my dear,' said the doctor; 'I shouldn't 'Good gracious!' replied the lady half aside, 'I am wonder if the lad does speak metaphorically." almost afraid. Who is your mother, sir?' That is metaphorical, too,' said the doctor, 'I shouldn't wonder.' 'Mrs Margery, ma'am.' The questioner gave a little scream; her husband looked as liberal as he could under the circumstances; Mrs Seacole edged her chair a little way out of the circle; and the rector drew himself up stiff and awful. 'Whatever you please to think of it,' said the captain choking: 'I never set eyes on that woman Margery in my life!' 'What! never saw your own cook!' 'Never, as I am an officer and a gentleman!' This was proving such an extravagant deal too much, that visitors merely bent their heads, and said: 'Hum!' even the doctor gave up the case as hopeless. The -what else could they say?-and then hastened to take their leave in a kind of panic, as if feeling that their enterprise, though successful, had ended tragically. And so it did so far as the captain was concerned, for they left him one of the most miserable men on the face of the earth. If he had been plucked by the beard, it would have been comparatively a trifle, for he knew how to redress any wrongs of the kind; but to have all his notions of propriety outraged-for, like | Spenser's valiant knight, the captain was 'modest as a maid' to have been betrayed into an assertion which, although he knew it to be true, he himself felt, on consideration, to be too monstrous for belief, was an accumulation of unhappiness which stunned him. 'And you, sir,' said he, starting up at length, 'how dare you call me your father before company? That was all very well at first, and I didn't mind it; but, grown up as you are to be a great fellow, you should have more sense.' 'You allowed me at first, sir, to call you so,' replied Bob, and you have been more and more a father to me ever since; and so I forgot-what I am. What could I say? I could not tell those cold, hard people that I never had a father.' Is it better, think you, to tell an untruth? And that hideous woman in the kitchen must needs be your mother!' 'I see now it was wrong, but I did not think of it at the moment. Mrs Margery has been so kind to me, so like what I have read of a mother! But never mind, sir'—and he tried to smile down a little sob'they will forget it all by and by, and you will never have to complain of me again.' He turned away in agitation, and went to the window. The common lay before him, wide, still, and cold; and he looked long at it through his tearsthe captain watching him with a yearning heart, that felt unconsciously the responsibility it had incurred, by awaking this desolate boy into thought and feeling. When Bob returned from the window, his eyes were dry and his cheek pale. His protector grasped him by the hand. 'And so they will, Bob,' said he; they will forget it all by and by, and you and I will be better friends than ever. And you will be a good fellow, and a clever fellow still; and we will not mind them, Bob, but be happy among ourselves, God bless you!' 'God bless you, sir!' said Bob; 'God bless you, my only father!-a name I shall never call you more. It was very wrong of me, I know, and I have disturbed you all. But you will not think unkindly of me, Miss Semple, will you?'—and he kissed the cold cheek of the virgin, who drew him in silence to her bosom. 'Sara, too—you will forgive me for having been called your brother, and your cousin, won't you, Sara?' -and as he kissed her pretty lips, he tried to smile down another little sob, and then left the room. 'I tell you what, Elizabeth,' said the captain, 'there is more in that boy than you or I think of. What it is, I don't know, or how it came into him; but it is something out of the common, I'll be bound!' That night the veteran did not sleep well. Ignorant as he was of the world, he knew that, in justice both to himself and his niece, matters could not be suffered to rest where they were. Even if the true origin of his connection with Bob could be explained to the satisfaction of the neighbours, he felt, now that the subject had been forced upon him, the impropriety of the two young people growing up together in all the intimacy of brother and sister. But how to manage? Was he to send away the lad to be a mechanic, after he had brought him up to feel like a gentleman?—that was impossible. He had no money to buy him a commission, for he and his sister, having no posterity to provide for, had lived completely up to their moderate income. But, at anyrate, Bob was too young for that yet-and could they not hoard in the interval? That was the only thing to be done-and it must be done. But, in the meantime, the poor fellow must leave the house, and at once. So much the better, for it would be necessary for him to go through some preparation for the army. He must have some years of school; and to school Bob should go, before he was two days older. While these reflections passed confusedly through his brain-for we have traced their direction, not their actual sequence-the captain fancied that he heard, every now and then, a very slight but unusual sound proceeding from another part of the house. When he had arrived painfully at the conclusion he had been labouring after, he set himself to listen intently, till he was almost sure it came from the attic where his protégé slept. The sound was fitful and unequal, but always so low, that it could not possibly have been heard at any other time than in the middle of the night. The veteran's heart began to quake, he did not know at what. He sat up in bed to listen the better. He fancied, at one time, that something was being dragged along the floor, but slowly and cautiously, as if from fear of detection; and by and by he could have persuaded himself that all had been fancy together, for everything became as still as the grave. He lay down again, but not to rest. The stillness seemed worse than the sound, and at length he determined to ascertain what it was all about. He got up noiselessly, opened his room door, and peeped out. All dark-all silent. He crept slowly up the narrow stair, leading to a small closet forming the apex of the roof, and opening the door stealthily, looked in as grim as a bandit. A candle burned on a little deal-table in the middle of the floor; and although its wick was two inches long, it gave light enough to illumine the whole of that small apartment. A kind of knapsack, made of coarse canvas, was likewise on the table, and a good serviceable staff, cut doubtless from the neighbouring wood. Some articles of wearingapparel lay neatly folded on a chair, and a number of books were ranged symmetrically against the wall: everything was to be left, it appeared, in apple-pie order, when the knapsack and staff and their master should vanish. On a little neat bed, with white dimity curtains, lay the adventurer himself in a profound slumber. He was completely dressed, even to the foraging-cap, and, having finished his preparations, had evidently lain down to wait for the dawn to light him on his solitary journey. The captain gazed at the boy in a kind of awe. He looked old-so old, that one might have thought he had in that night grown to be a man; but on further examination, the appearance of age was seen to reside in the expression alone, for the exquisitely chiseled features had all the softness of early youth. His brown hair hung in clusters upon a brow as white as Parian marble; his cheeks were suffused with the rich glow given by the sun and wind to the young and healthy; and in the firm, horizontal line of the mouth, although the lips themselves had all the sweetness of a woman's, might be seen the indomitable will, and the power both to do and to suffer. The captain looked long at this portrait; and then, softly extinguishing the candle, he left the room, turned the key in the lock, and stole back to bed. The next morning, he was early astir. As soon as he was dressed, he went up to call his protégé, as if nothing had happened, and, unlocking the door, invited him to walk in the wood. Their walk was a long one; but they returned at the breakfast-hour better friends than ever, as the veteran had prophesied, and Bob flushed, though grave. The particulars of their conversation were not known, and were probably of little consequence. It was understood, however, in the house that day, that Bob was about to go to a boardingschool at some considerable distance, and to remain CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. No one stammered out-and-and-energy, Bob-dear Bob' there during three years, holidays and all. suspected that the youth himself had made it a stipu--her voice was choked, and the virgin, quite over'Now then!' cried the coachman, with a smack of lation that he should pass his holidays at school, and come, leant her face on his shoulder. his whip, which made the horses prance as if they were that the bandit captain was moved almost to tears as he at length gave a reluctant assent. off that instant. Molly was stuffing a packet into the traveller's greatcoat, but her shaking hands would have 'It's a cake, Master Robert,' she said with as shaky made little progress had he not assisted her. a voice, 'made by me and Mrs Margery.' He sprang up to the top of the coach almost at a bound; the whip smacked again; the horses danced impatiently for a moment, and then set off as if they thought they had lost time; and Robert, conscious of the strange eyes that were upon him, in spite of the sinking of his boyish heart, looked a last adieu to his friends with such an air that Mr Poringer involuntarily touched his hat. The vehicle almost instantly disappeared; and Elizabeth holding her brother's arm, groped her way home through her tears, while the captain 'hem-hemmed' defiantly, and brandished his stick as if daring any scoundrel moistened eye. extant to suppose that he had a sore heart and a During the next two days, although Bob contrived to see Mrs Margery alone, and tell her, with all the confiding fondness of a boy, of his new purposes and prospects, he was not at other times in the kitchen. He was too grave and old for that; and somehow nobody knew what was the first occasion of it-he was now called 'Master Robert.' It was suspected that Mrs Margery was at the bottom of this innovation; but if so, it came like an electric communication to the parlour. As for Molly, it threw her into such a state of excitement, that she was like one demented. She flew about the house on all manner of errands, but never could open her lips without coming out with something about Master Robert, pronouncing the title with such a flush of pride, that no acting on the stage could come near it. Any one might see that there was something underhand going on between her and Mrs Margery, for the latter was heard to say: 'Didn't I tell you, girl? Isn't it all coming out? But watch, watch, without a word!' To which Molly replied only with a look out of her astonished eyes, closing her lips as if they were fastened with nails. All the time, however, Mr Poringer was dignified and supercilious. He durst not say Bob, but seemed as if he would not have said Master Robert for a month's wages. On the third day, the aspect of things changed a little at Simple Lodge. In the afternoon, the youth's three years' banishment was to begin. Mrs Margery, notwithstanding all her prognostications of goodfortune, was every now and then in tears, and Molly said Master Robert' in a whisper, as if it was his funeral that was going forward. The captain was in very low spirits he was losing his young comradehe would have nobody now to fence with him, to walk with him, to play chess with him. Sara was nobody -she was only a girl. Even Elizabeth looked as if her occupation was gone, for her work lay for hours idle on her knee. At length the afternoon came; and the luggage was despatched by Mr Poringer, the large portmanteau, surmounted by a smaller box, to stand on end against the wall of the Plough, looking out for the arrival of the stage-coach. From this antiquated word, the reader will gather that a cross-road led from the village to the railway. The traveller was to arrive at the station late in the evening, and pursue his journey at an early hour on the following morning. The adventurer was accompanied to the startingplace of his exodus by all the other denizens of Simple From his Lodge excepting the cat and Mrs Margery, both of them remarkably domestic individuals. leave-taking with the latter, Master Robert came forth with a flushed cheek and a glistening eye; but upon the whole he preserved his grave, old look surprisingly well. When they reached the Plough, Mr Poringer touched his hat to his master and mistress, but did not condescend to notice anybody else; and then the whole party stood awaiting the coach in profound silence. The coach at length dashed up to the door; and the portmanteau and box were on the top in an instant. The captain shook hands roughly with the youth, clearing his throat and shaking his whiskers like a fiend; but Elizabeth held him nervously by the arm. It has been noted,' said she, by the wise and thoughtful, that on the first entrance of a youth into the world depends mainly his success in life. You, I know, Master Robert, will have firmness to withstand' —here her own firmness seemed giving way, and it was a tremulous voice she proceeded-'and courage, with Robert, to endure'-but it would not do, for her own courage was going-going-gone; and when she had That evening the people at the inn where the coach stopped could not have suspected that the calm, selfpossessed gentlemanly youth, who gave his orders so firmly yet so gently, had never been in a similar position before. But when the young traveller retired to bed, the novelty of the situation struck him almost with to belong in equal degrees to sleep and waking conawe, and his thoughts, so wild, yet so coherent, appeared sciousness. The mist of the common seemed to close gradually over him. There was no human being near him on any side; no sound but an inarticulate hum that told of a peopled world far, far away. He was choked with that thick vapour coming down darker and darker around him, and the feeling of loneliness oppressed his spirit. Presently the cloud was broken ever and anon by heavy rain-drops plashing in marshy here and there with rays of light-to be extinguished pools. He would have cried aloud, but his voice could not penetrate the thick air; he would have followed one of the numerous tracks he could feel beneath his feet, but they were all lost in the next pool. Onward, however, he strode-onward-onward-onward; the marsh splashing under his feet, the light gleaming through the cloud, the rain beating on his uncovered head, till he passed into unconsciousness. This was partly a dream, partly a memory, partly a prophecy. But the water at least was real; for when the solitary with his tears. youth sank into a deep slumber, his pillow was wet THE MAMMOTH CAVE OF MARTINIQUE. That the Mammoth Cave is an antiquity of the world before the Flood-a city of giants which an earthquake swallowed, and which a chance roof of rocks has protected from being effaced by the Deluge-is one of the fancies which its a succession of halls, domes, and corridors, streets, avenues, strange phenomena force upon the mind. All is so architectural. It is not a vast underground cavity, raw and dirty, but a cave, but a city in ruins-a city from which sun, moon, and arches all underground, but all telling of the design and proportion of a majestic primeval metropolis. It is not and stars have been taken away-whose day of judgment has come and passed, and over which a new world has been created and grown old. By what admirable laws of unknown architecture those mammoth roofs and ceilings are upheld, is every traveller's wondering question. In some And all else shape or other, I heard each of my companions express this. No modern builder could throw up such vast vaulted arches, and so unaccountably sustain them. is in keeping. The cornices and columns, aisles and galleries, are gigantically proportionate, and as mysteriously upheld. Streets after streets, miles after miles, seem to have been left only half in ruins; and here and there is an |