"The out-and-out Fanciers left London in considerable numbers on the Sunday and Monday previous, for Birmingham and Wolverhampton. The latter place was overflowing with company of every description; all the inns crowded to excess, and dabs could not be had at any price. The little towns and villages contiguous to Wolverhampton came in also for their share of company. "On Tuesday morning vast multitudes were toddling toward the scene of action. Vehicles of all sorts were in motion; equestrians and pedestrians thronged the way from Birmingham, Walsall, Dudley, Wednesbury, Bridge north, and Stafford, Lichfield, Shrewsbury, and other distant towns. Brown cut a prime dash on his turn-out to the ground; he was seated with his friend Spring, and several others, in a landau, his own property, decorated on the panels with the sign of his house at Bridge north, and drawn by four fine horses, while a great number of well-mounted gentlemen formed, as it were, his body-guard. Both Sampson and Brown waited at the Bradford Arms till the time arrived for entering the ring. Arrangements on the ground had been made with much skill and attention. A circle of wagons, with less money depending upon the issue- Of the fight we may not copy the whole account, with its brilliant array of English tropes and figures. It must suffice to say that the Bridgenorth hero was licked, and Phil. Sampson was declared Cause why? "The big un," says the narthe conqueror on the forty-second round. rator, "was reduced to a complete state of distress; his left peeper completely in darkness, his right severely damaged, and his conk almost cut to pieces. His left shoulder was also dislocated." It is satis a stage on a convenient spot, formed the exter-factory to have the assurance, from the same nal barrier; in front of these, the spectators on foot were kept at a distance of several yards from the twenty-four feet ring, by a strong circle of ropes and stakes. The ring itself was formed with posts of great thickness, deeply fixed in the earth, and three ropes, one more than the usual number, were affixed to them. The number of spectators could not have been less than twenty-five thousand-some persons guessed their numbers at forty thousand-of these, at least fifteen thousand were unable to see the twenty-four feet ring, and were consequently continually pressing forward. unquestionable authority, that "he displayed game of the first quality." And, again," no one could dispute the bravery and game manifested by Brown throughout the fight;" and yet, once more, "the hero of Bridgenorth must have suffered severely, owing to the accident of his shoulder, and which stamps him an out and out game man to have contested the battle after his left shoulder had been dislocated." Little pieces of plaster these for his darkened peepers and his mutilated conk. But the glorification of the conqueror, ah! that was prime. The rejoicings of John Bull when the French took the Malakoff were tame in the comparison : "A few minutes before one o'clock, Brown, leaning on the arm of Tom Spring, threw his hat into the ring; he was received with a prime welcome. The appearance of the Bridgenorth hero was highly prepossessing; he was dressed in a blue coat, white cord breeches, and top boots. Sampson appeared soon afterward, and his friends, in their turn, rent the air with applause. Phil. was also well togged. On the entrance of the latter boxer, Brown, who was sitting on the hamper containing the bottles, &c., rose up, and holding out his hand with a good-natured smile, said, 'Well, my boy, how are you?' Sampson gave him his mauley, but turned another way with an angry scowl, and merely repeated, 'How are you?" " In good sooth, this must have been a goodly sight. The prime dash cut by Brown, in his own landau, so beautifully decorated; his four fine horses, bloods, doubtless; the great number of real gentlemen, well-mounted, who composed his body-guard; the cord breeches and top boots of the Bridgenorth hero; the tog of his antagonist; the chivalry of England, to the number of twenty five thousand at least, every man of them with more or 6 6 64 "The return from the mill was full of bustle and incident; Sampson's colors were flying in all directions, out of the windows of several houses on the road, on the tops of the coaches, and Sampson for ever!' to the end of the chapter, from the chaffers of the Fancy. The road-side houses never experienced anything like such a prime day for the return of blunt; and success to milling' was on the tip of the tongues of all the landlords of the lush-cribs. Sampson left the ground under the patronage of Mr. Beadsworth, in tip-top style; and, during part of his journey, on his victorious return to Birmingham, the carriage which conveyed Phil. and his friends was drawn by eight horses. Through the streets of Birmingham his reception was enthusiastic: Sampson was loudly cheered by the spectators, and drawn by six prads, until he arrived at the house of Arcrib was crowded to excess by the admirers of thur Matthewson. Every room in Arthur's the Art of Self-defence; and the anxiety of the persons in the street to gain admittance, to have a peep at the conqueror of Brown, defied all description. Matthewson found it absolutely necessary to employ two men, in addition to strong bolts, to prevent his doors from being torn off their hinges." As is the case, occasionally, with benevolent institutions in this country, so in England an appeal is needed, now and then, for money. Up to the latest dates Bell had only received about three hundred dollars toward the purchase of what he calls a magnificent trophy, the champion's belt. How handsomely he makes his appeal to the supporters of the noble artto the patricians-hinting that this sad deficiency arises entirely from forgetfulness on their part, as we suppose it does, and then asking their pardon, as a commoner, for calling patrician attention to the subject: THE CHAMPION'S BELT. All the money we have received toward this magnificent trophy does not yet amount to £60. The matter has now been some time in abeyance, and we appeal to our readers to come forward at once with their subscriptions in order that it may be at once commenced, with a view to its completion before the two forthcoming battles for the Championship. Several patrician supporters of the noble art some time ago intimated their intention of supporting the undertaking, and, as they have probably forgotten it, we trust they will now pardon our calling it to their recollection. If we have been in error, our ignorance is the only plea we have to offer; and as the best atonement in our power, we copy Bell's brief obituary notice of one famous in the department alluded to: But we have almost reached the limit assigned us. Our remaining space will not allow us to dwell upon the British amusements of wrestling, of which we have several interesting accounts; pedestrianism, cribbage, quoits, pigeon-shooting, cricket, cock-fighting, chasing a pig with a greased tail, grinning through a horse collar, and other matters which make up life in London. It is of the less consequence, however, as we have scrupulously aimed to keep within the upper circles, and none of the latter-named sports are of so genteel a character as those we have endeavored to set before the reader. They pertain more properly to the lower classes, mere mechanics, who work for their bread, and we are not sure that the better educated and more refined of the aristocracy do not rate them decidedly low. Perhaps we ought to make an exception in favor of cock-fighting. The record in honor of Joe Hough, in a paper which only chronicles marriages in high life that are "to come off," and deaths among those of the upper circles who have gone off, admonishes us that we may have done our British exemplars injustice with reference to cock-fighting. NEWMARKET.-Died, on Tuesday last, suddenly, from disease of the heart, whilst riding in a conveyance on the Cambridge-road, near the turnpike-gate, with Mr. Wm. Tongue, of Manchester, Joe Hough, who had been known for many years on the Turf as a" tout," and also famous for his management of fighting cocks. In our own justification we must be permitted to add that, with our American education, and our republican narrowness of conception, it ought not to surprise our Uncle John that we are unable to see any good reason for ranking either of the sports alluded to below horse-racing, fox-hunting, or mutual man-mauling. It is possible that there is a luxury in these latter diversions of which we have no adequate conception, as there is certainly a felicity in the choice language used to describe them which writers on this side of the water cannot equal, and which, we fear, some of our readers will scarcely understand. That, however, is not the fault of our British brethren. It is our misfortune. We must bear it as best we may. In the meantime John will continue to laugh at our ignorance, to ridicule our customs, to taunt our females with inability to ride steeple-chases, our men with lack of pluck, and our authors of both sexes with inability to write decent English. And has he not the right to do all these things? His own eye being purged of every mote, is it not his province, nay, his duty, as a good uncle, to show up the Yankee beams which cause us as a people so awfully to squint? t [For the National Magazine.] OUTER AND INNER. BY MRS. E. J. EAMES. The harsh conditions of this outer life Rest heavily upon our inner being: Day calleth unto day, the role of strife, And toil, and care; and thus forever seeing Its sad necessities, the poor immortal Sits famish'd in its prison-house of clay; Striving in vain to reach the dusty portal That shutteth out the Spirit Land of day! Still circling round the central sphere of mind, Thoughts rise like stars, intensely pure and clear : While e'en as is a magic glass enshrined, New forms of life, idealized appear. And thus the Outer turns from paths of toil and strife, To touch the threshold of the Innermost of life! CURIOUS FACTS ABOUT HUMAN DIET. F an ignorant miller were told that his into human blood, he would laugh at the notion just as much as if told that any part of his body could be made available—as it can― in the manufacture of lucifer matches. There is no external resemblance between the fine white powder which fills his sacks and the crimson fluid which streams from the heart. There is still less similarity between that powder and the brawny muscles that render him a terror to the whole village. Yet, if the man were to sentence himself to live exclusively on the produce of his mill-and he might do so without forfeiting his prowess, provided he retained the bran, wherein the most nutritive principle largely exists-it is plain that his flour must resolve itself into blood, and this blood must again become consolidated into flesh. At the first glance, indeed, an analysis of bread would only seem to render the mystery more perplexing still. The chief ingredient, in point of quantity, is found to be water. Nearly one half of every wheaten loaf is composed of this mild and unpretending fluid. But it so happens that water is also the preponderating element in the constitution of solid men and women. Any gentleman who weighs one hundred and fifty-four pounds, will be surprised to learn that he has only thirtyeight pounds of dry matter in the whole of his body. Upward of one hundred weight of his humanity is literally identical in nature with the liquid which drops from the clouds or is pumped from the soil, (after filtering itself perhaps through the nearest churchyard.) If the water in our frames were not associated with more consistent materials, we should have to live in buckets or barrels, and people would subside into liquid masses charged with a few soluble salts, and depositing a small quantity of matter by way of sediment. Strange, therefore, as it may appear, that our frames should be so succulent in their composition, it is necessary that our diet should correspond. Hence the natural fitness of a commodity which, like flour, possesses, and is capable of taking up, so large a proportion of water. A dry crust is, in truth, a tank of moisture. We drink bread as well as eat it. In like manner, out of one hundred parts of lean beef, seventy-eight are nothing more than water mixed with blood. Apples, gooseberries, mushrooms, and many other articles of food, yield eighty per cent. of this catholic fluid. Three quarters Carrots are extravagantly humid, eighty-three parts being composed of the same liquid. Turnips should be sipped; they contain only ten parts of solid food to ninety of water. It is among the gourd tribe, however, that we find the most striking examples of succulence. In the watermelon ninety-four parts of every mouthful consists of mere moisture; and in the cucumber you get only three morsels of substantial matter to ninety-seven of condensed vapor. Well might the old pasha, Mohammed Ali, consume a forty-pound melon at a single sitting, and even treat it as an easy appendix to an excellent repast! The second noticeable ingredient in bread will surprise the non-chemical reader almost as much as the first.* He will find it difficult to believe that animal fiber may be extracted from muffins or biscuits, and though he admits figuratively that all flesh is grass, he may object to regard it literally as flour. Wheaten bread, however, contains six per cent. of a substance called gluten, which, when analyzed, is found to exhibit the same ultimate elements as the After the lapse of a few days bread loses its softness, and becomes apparently dry. Most persons, if asked the cause of this change, would ascribe it to the loss of moisture. But the fact is, that stale bread contains exactly the same quantity of water as new. The alteration is supposed to be due to some internal action among the atoms; for if a stale loaf is exposed in a closely covered tin to a heat not exceeding that of boiling water, for a period of half an hour or an hour, and then allowed to cool, it will be found to have recovered its youth, and will be restored in appearance and As properties to the condition of new bread. velopment of alcohol in flour during the process another illustration, we may refer to the de of conversion into bread. The total abstainer will be greatly alarmed to learn that at one stage of that process the farina, which he regards as the mildest of eatable things, is really pervaded with his deadly enemy. During the fermentation excited by the yeast, part of the starch in the flour is converted into sugar, and this, again, is resolved into carbonic acid and alcohol. Literally alcohol, were peat! Fortunately the adversary is compelled to evacuate the bread when exposed to the heat of the oven, and thus it becomes impossible to get drunk on quartern loaves. Mischievous bakers in England, with a glimmering of science in their heads, have sometimes attempted to imprison the ardent element, and have audaciously announced that they sell "Bread with the gin in it!" fibrin of muscle. Both are represented by the same chemical formula, and both belong to a striking series of substances known as the protein compounds, which correspond, to a remarkable extent, in their constitution and dietary uses. In the gluten of bread, therefore, the fibrin of the flesh already exists, and hence Swift was a good deal nearer the truth than he imagined, when he penned that witty scene in the Tale of a Tub, where my Lord Peter attempts to persuade his Lutheran and Calvinist brothers that a dry crust was as fine a piece of mutton as ever came out of Leadenhall market.* But besides the materials demanded for the repair or enlargement of the tissues, and which may therefore be called the body-building principles, others are needed for the purpose of providing a constant supply of animal heat. Our food must contain a quantity of fuel, and not a little either, for as the temperature of the body is higher than that of the atmosphere, averaging, in fact, about 98° Fahrenheit, we are plundered of our caloric continually. Now every grain of wheat includes, if we may so speak, its own little stock of oil and coke; that is to say, it is equipped with a quantity of fat, starch, gum, and other substances, which, by combining with the oxygen inspired, are burned within the body on the same principle, but not with the same fiery manifestations, as tallow or coal are burned without it. It would be impossible, in our limited space, to refer particularly to the mineral matters which bread, like all other perfect food, must include. Our food should "contain a due admixture of vegetable and animal substances, in which the proportions of the three most important constituents, fat, starch or sugar, and fibrin or gluten, are properly adjusted." It is here that the wonderful instinct already mentioned, which leads mankind to mingle various articles of diet so as to obtain all the necessary elements, comes into conspicuous play. Without possessing any chemical knowledge whatever, the stomach appears from time to time to have given strong hints to its owner, which have Nearer the truth, we say, in this respect that fibrin may be, and is extracted from bread by the chemistry of digestion and assimilation. But lest the remark should seem to favor the Romish doctrine of transubstantiation, be it observed that analysis furnishes a fatal implement led to combinations as subtle and efficient as if they had been prescribed by the profoundest science. Why, for instance, should bread or potatoes form an indispensable accompaniment to beef? On analyzing the latter substance, it is found to consist of seventy-eight parts of water, nineteen of fibrin, and three of fat. These principles appear, as we have seen, in bread; gluten there being equivalent to fibrin here. But there is no starch in your steak, while there is much in your loaf. The fat, it is true, may to some extent represent this combustible material, but it will not supply as much fuel as is needed to keep your corporeal furnace in adequate action. Hence, by a natural impulse, we resort to bread when attacking beef, or take the latter in flank with a dish of potatoes, these tubers (subtracting the water) containing almost ninety-two per cent. of starch. So, again, when the quantity of fat in any animal substance is insignificant, it is astonishing what tricks we employ to obtain a sufficient supplement from other sources. We eat along with those varieties in which it is small, some other food richer in fat. Thus, we eat bacon with veal, with liver, and with fowl, or we capon the latter, and thus increase its natural fat. We use melted butter with our white fish, or we fry them with fat; while the herring, the salmon, and the eels, are usually both dressed and eaten in their own oil. If the reader will take the trouble of consulting any popular cookery book, he will find that sausage, and other rich mixed meats, are made in general with one part of fat and two of lean; the proportion in which they exist in a piece of good marbled beef! Art thus unconsciously again imitating nature. without undergoing any special chemical treatment; and, second, such as are subjected to certain chemical changes, the most important of which consists in fermentation. Both sorts exert a stimulating influence over the mind; but while the former, tea, coffee, cocoa, occasion an elegant and innocent kind of excitement, the latter, ale, spirits, wines, if too freely absorbed, fling the patient into a state of vulgar and uproarious inebriety. Our readers may remember the surprise which was manifested by the author of one of the most diverting diaries ever written, when he first sipped tea from a Liliputian cup at the price of some sixty shillings per pound. Could that amusing gentleman have witnessed the analysis of the herb by some modern chemist, he would have recorded the peculiarities of its composition with many expressions of astonishment. First, he would have learned that it contains a volatile oil, not naturally resident as such in the plant, but developed during the drying and roasting to which the leaf is exposed. Small as is the quantity-1lb. in 100lbs. of tea-it is to this that the peculiar virtue of the herb is mainly ascribed. For as new tea produces a species of intoxication, on which account the Chinese rarely employ it until a year has elapsed, and as the tasters and packers of the article are subject to attacks of giddiness and paralysis, the change fected by delay is presumed to be due to the escape of a portion of this fugitive material. Next, Mr. Pepys would have been made acquainted with a substance called theine, respecting which he would have chronicled a very curious fact. In various parts of the globe certain stimulating substances, such as coffee, cocoa, chocolate, maté, guarna, have been employed for the same purposes as the charming herb whose merits we are now considering. But all these substances, adopted as they have been without the slightest conception of their chemical composition, are found to agree in the possession of the peculiar body just mentioned. And here, again, the subtle instinct which rules the human appetite, seems to have led mankind by what appear to be different routes to the same results, as if there were some secret affinities between the stomach and its fare which enabled us to detect the latter, whatever disguises it may assume, or in whatever unlikely com binations it may lurk. Mr. Pepys would have further learned that this substance, which is remarkably rich in nitrogen, has the property of retarding the waste of the bodily tissues, so that a much smaller quantity of food suffices for the maintenance of the frame where tea is systematically drunk. The poor man is not, therefore, indulging in a pure luxury when he purchases his packet of Souchong. He is literally economizing his body. Three or four grains of theine daily will lessen his expenditure of flesh materially. And hence, too, when digestion begins to flag, as in the aged, or in those who have worked their stomachs too severely, tea will enable that organ to keep up the wants of the system with a much smaller outlay of energy than would otherwise be required. The third ingredient in this herb might have struck Mr. Pepys with equal surprise. From the bark of trees we extract tannin, or tannic acid, the astringent substance which is employed in converting the skins of animals into leather, and also in producing an inky dye or infusion when mixed with salts of iron. The same substance is to be found in tea. It constitutes no less than from thirteen to eighteen per cent. of the dried leaf. Its precise influence upon the human system has not yet been ascertained, but its presence would probably have induced Mr. Pepys to deef-cline all participation in the new beverage, lest his digestive sac should soon be transformed into leather. These are the three most active principles in tea, but of the remaining ingredients, fat, starch, water, mineral and other matter, we need only mention gluten, the nutritive character of which has already been noticed. This substance forms onefourth of the weight of the dried leaves, and therefore renders them as nourishing as peas or beans. The ordinary process of infusion extracts but little of the gluten, and, consequently, the most feeding element in the plant is rejected. When first introduced into Europe, the liquid was sometimes discarded, and the leaves brought to table to be eaten like cabbage or cauliflower. At the present time, the Tartars reduce the tea to a fine powder, and mix it with fat and salt; and in some parts of South America, according to Captain Basil Hall, the natives drink the hot infusion in the first instance, and then the residual leaves are handed round on a silver salver. |