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escaped the vigilance of her attendant, and was never heard of more. Fifty years afterwards, indeed, there was found by some hunters, among the wild rocks of San Marcello, an old woman covered with rags, but not dirty and neglected like those whose trade is beggary. Her hair was dishevelled, and fell around her like a silver veil. Her countenance was pale and emaciated, and her look mournful and depressed. "She was on her knees at the entrance of one of the caves, before a

rude cross of chestnut, the two branches of which were held together by a twig of osier. She neither moved nor turned at the approach of the hunters, who stopped to look at her with wonder and reverence. From time to time they heard her sigh and say, 'My God! my God! I have wept for him so many years! Hast thou not pardoned him at last?" And then, after remaining silent a few moments, she repeated her prayer, and always in the same words. By the country people in general she was esteemed a saint, but no one could tell who she was or whence she came. After trying in vain to lead her to live in an inhabited place, they had contrived a kind of rude bed for her in the cave, and sometimes one, sometimes another, brought her the means of subsistence. At last they found her one day lying on her bed, as white and cold as alabaster, and having ascertained that she had departed, buried her in consecrated ground at San Marcello."

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Selvaggia remains with Lamberto and Laudomia, but the arrangement, as may well be imagined, tends to their mutual unhappiness without one unworthy feeling on either side, their position naturally leads to mistakes and misapprehensions, which at length become intolerable even to the poor courtesan. One evening she disappears, leaving behind her this touching note :

My last hope of peace is in that God whom you have made known to me. I his tomb, in that land where he was willing to die go to pray upon for our salvation. I shall carry you thither still in my heart, you who of all the world have loved me, and given me what you could. Alas! I wanted more. I leave you my blessing. Pray that God may give me peace, and an end to my sufferings. I will pray for your life and happiness. Your SELVAGGIA.

Two years after this, Lamberto and Laudomia are summoned one evening to the Madonna di Quercia by a dying woman, who had been put ashore that day in a state of extreme weakness, and, having striven in vain to reach Serravezza in a litter, had made them lay her down at the door of the church under some cypresses.

The night was serene, the moon resplendent, casting the dark shadow of the cypresses on the white front of the little church. They saw, while yet at a distance, the bed and the woman who was

lying on it. At her side was a priest, and at her feet a countryman holding a lighted candle. In a moment they were by her side, pressing in both their hands those of poor Selvaggia, whom they scarcely recognized, so changed was she and almost wasted to a shadow.

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"I have never found peace-as you may believe -never!-I felt instead-increasing in my heartdeath-I feared I—should not get as far as-here

but I have.-Blessed be God-Bless you both! the only ones who ever loved-the poor courtesan. it was my last wish-on the banks of the Po-that -Lamberto, lay your hand-upon my foreheadnight-call me yours.-Pardon me, Laudomia—I love him now-as they love in heaven."

As Lamberto placed his hand upon her forehead, he felt it growing cold, a smile passed over her lips, and death fixed it there. Lamberto and his wife wept long over the cold and lifeless body of her to much; then buried her with honor in the little whom much should be pardoned, because she loved churchyard.

In spite of the imperfection of our analysis, and the boldness of our translation, we think that we have done enough to show that this magnificent romance deserves to be better known to the English reader. In the mean time, many characters, which figure prominently in the story, both among the Palleschi and the Piagnoni, we have either omitted entirely, or passed over with only a slight allusion. Many scenes of equal, if not superior beauty, to those which we have extracted, occur here and there in the work. But, that we might not swell our article beyond all reasonable bounds,

we have confined ourselves to such characters and

situations as were immediately connected with Niccolò and his family. Even as it is, we fear that we have transgressed the limits usually prescribed to such subjects, from the desire to do adequate justice to D'Azeglio's sublime conception. "Niccolò de' Lapi" in the original, is the charm and delight of all Italian readers; and well, in our that there are not a few who will see in the work opinion, is its celebrity deserved. We are aware before us little more than a factious attempt to undermine the aristocracy of all countries, and erect a turbulent democracy upon its ruins. We do not envy such feelings; neither do we believe that they have any foundation. Though the works of D'Azeglio breathe the warmest spirit of civil and religious liberty, there is nothing in them of the reckless character of the demagogue. Accordingly, even in Italy, they have been published under the eye of the civil authorities, and have circulated widely, and been read with avidity, without any attempt having been made for their suppression, while their author enjoys not only liberty but estimation, and is countenanced and befriended by others besides the people, whose cause he has so nobly advocated. Doubtless such works as these owe a portion of their celebrity to the impulse of the popular mind, and to a state of things in which exclusive persons and exclusive privileges will find it difficult to stand their ground either here or elsewhere. It is, however, the glory of the English aristocracy that they are not an exclusive class,

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cut off from general sympathy, but one connected before them a life of labor and trouble, but they dewith the classes below them in personal interest, termined to meet them resolutely, and found repose social intercouse, benevolent exertion, and an hon- in the consoling idea of fulfilling a sacred duty. est downright desire to promote the welfare and They prepared to suffer with that readiness and joy happiness of the great and universal human family. which religion alone can give, because it alone can Such men need not wince at the historical records teach the heart of man that suffering is a blessing. of a by-gone system whose baseness and atrocity The men of that age, stained as it was with blood, can return no more. Meanwhile, should here and and darkened by crime, were free from the guilt there one still be found, who abuses his high sta- of believing in nothing except gold and the pleastion, or his local influence, or his commanding ures it can purchase. Their loves and their hatreds wealth, for the purposes of oppression or debase- were indeed furious and excessive, but it was for ment, it is good that he should know, not only the this very reason, that they believed there were signs of the times," but the lessons of a purer things which deserved either one or the other. and nobler truth than he dreams of in his philoso- The poisonous breath of indifference, of doubt, adphy; and learn that, while he is exposed to the mitted as a principle, had not congealed their watchful eyes of men whom the glare and glitter hearts. They could throb in freedom and security. of external station have ceased to deceive, he is They were taught, by the faith which they had amenable to a tribunal compared with which the embraced, to sacrifice everything for its sake, to eyes of an assembled universe would be as nothing. follow it and make it triumph. They could say But it is not so much in their political, as in their with uplifted brow, "We believe that there are in religious bearing, that the novels of D'Azeglio ad- the world things higher, more worthy, more estidress themselves to our deepest sympathies. The mable, than riches, pleasures, self-interest;" and lesson which they teach is that of self-sacrifice. In they did not fear that their words would be anan age which, in spite of its great and manifold im-swered with irony, that their noble sacrifice would provements, is an age of egotism, they show us be received with the smile of scorn or compassion. that there is something superior to our personal They did not think that life is a journey without an well-being. They prove to us that high, and what end, virtue a dream, the practice of it a labor withmay be called by many abstract principles, are not out compensation. They did not see in human a delusion; that the external is inferior to the in- beings a pack of knaves or fools, in death the end ternal man; that the accidents of worldly position of suffering, and after death-nothing. The time are but for a time, while the essentials, connected was yet far distant when poetry and literature with the perfection of the human character, are for would call him brave and magnanimous who gives eternity. In fact, D'Azèglio's aim is embodied in way to his passions—him weak and contemptible the description of his own Lamberto, and the high- who has learned to subdue them. minded men of his age and country. They saw

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purpose depends of course entirely on his condition, and usually varies from 30s. to 37. 10s.—Bush Life in Australia.

"BOILING DOWN" IN AUSTRALIA.-In addition | to the demand for colonial consumption, and for salting, a new market for the surplus stock has been found within the last few years, by the discovery of SAVING OF FUEL IN GAS-WORKS.-At the last the process of boiling down," or converting the meeting of the Royal Scottish Society of Arts, Mr. whole carcass into tallow. He who first put this W. Kemp stated that he had made a valuable displan into operation deserved the thanks of all the covery in economizing fuel at Galashiels gas-works. colonists; for had not this method, or some equiv- Where coal-tar is burned, it has an injurious effect on alent to it, been invented, cattle and sheep must the furnace bars and retorts, the greatest annoyance soon have become almost unsalable, as the supply arising from the rapid clinkering up of the furnace had so greatly exceeded the demand, whereas now, bars, to remove which the firemen had frequently to though the colonial market should be overstocked, throw water into the furnace, which caused the the animal, whether sheep or ox, is at least worth rapid destruction of the bars. To prevent this, the its hide and tallow for exportation. "Boiling down" idea occurred to Mr. Kemp of using the exhausted is a very simple and rapid process. The whole car- tan-bark of the tan-works, which had the desired cass, having been cut to pieces, and thrown into effect. The force-pump for injecting the tar into large cast-iron pans, each capable of containing the furnace was next thrown aside, as it was found several bullocks, is boiled to rags, during which that the dry bark absorbed tar equal to its producoperation the fat is skimmed off, until no more rises tion at the works. His method is as follows:to the surface. The boiled meat is then taken out The bark is dried, and mixed with the coke of the of the pans, and after having been squeezed in a gas-coal, bulk for bulk; a pailful of tar is thrown wooden press, which forces out the remaining par- upon it, not quite so much as it will absorb, and it ticles of tallow, it is either thrown away or used as is then turned over. The mixture burns with a fine food for pigs, vast numbers of which are sometimes clear flame, attended with less smoke than formerkept in this manner in the neighborhood of a boiling | ly; the furnace bars, by remaining unclinkered, establishment. The proprietor of these places will admit the oxygen freely for the combustion of the either boil down the settler's sheep and cattle at so fuel. Where tan-bark cannot be had, peat moss, much per head, or purchase them wholly from him loose and dry, makes a good substitute. Mr. Kemp in the first instance, and conyert them into tallow at stated that in one year 1267. was saved in furnace their own risk. The value of an animal for this coal.-Pharmaceutical Times.

From the London Times, August 3. THE IRISH REBELLION.

THE Irish rebellion of 1848, we feel no manner of doubt, has flashed in the pan. The disaffected masses are not in a condition to act without leaders, and the leaders have absconded. We shall know nothing certain of their whereabouts till they are lodged under her majesty's own lock and key. The rumor telegraphed from Dublin on Tuesday evening, that Smith O'Brien had established his head quarters at Killcash, on the side of Slievenamon, early that morning, with 3,000 or 4,000 followers, is about as creditable as that he has entrenched himself on the top of Primrose Hill. The rebels see the futility of amateur campaigning, without proper arms, without regular practice, without ammunition, without a commissariat, without money, without officers, without brains, without a sound conscience, without a good cause, without even luck in their favor. Mr. Lalor, who showed a degree of sense by reminding his friends that they had 40,000 armed men to demolish, has just written an equally judicious, but not less treasonable epistle, advising them to bow their heads to the storm till this outburst of tyranny is past.

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But it is the rule in human affairs that one nail drives out another, and that as soon as one difficulty is surmounted another begins. Victories must be clinched, and war is succeeded by negotiation. When the treaty is signed it is then to be worked. Then ensue the struggles of classes, the burden of debt, and, after a few years, the cankers of a long peace; and so at last we retrace our steps back to war, and fight on till peace shall appear the happier alternative. The question returns in another form "What is to be done?" Tipperary is in military occupation. But General Macdonald cannot be always at Ballingarry, nor can we maintain 50,000 armed men in Ireland forever. We cannot have a perpetual search for arms, and daily concentrations of police. A fortunate crisis is not necessarily followed by a prosperous tenor. The chiefs have been vanquished, and even disgraced, but they will not therefore cease to plot. The rebels have been defeated and scattered in the field, but they will still do that which they can best do when scattered, and will endeavor to retrieve behind the hedge the loss they have sustained face to face with the foe. The social evils of the country will not abide the issue of one hostile collision. The spirit of combination and outrage will still drive away that capita' which is more easily frightened from a land than sleep from the pillow of anxiety and disease. The recollections of centuries still survive, and the blood that flowed at Boulagh will recall a thousand scenes of defeat. The priests who have stepped in at the eleventh hour to deprecate an attempt which is the only legitimate conclusion of their uniform instructions, will assume still more political license than ever on the strength of their present assistance to order. The exploded hypocrisy of moral force repeal will once more lift up its head. The O'Connells will hark back their father's dupes to the good old ways of loquacious agitation and abundant rent. The potato still rots. The population still increases. There will still be found in England bankrupt factions, or political adventurers, only too ready to raise a little capital

by pandering to Irish disaffection. In fact, the greater part of the work still remains to be done.

We have not for one moment forgotten all this when we declare the doom of open rebellion. But on the other hand it must not be forgotten that we have had a great stroke of fortune. It devolves on us to make the best of it. Mr. Inspector Blake setting to work at midnight, as soon as he had seen the proclamation, made a good beginning, which ought to be followed up. Go along with Sub-Inspector Trant on this memorable expedition, and then let any stout and loyal-hearted man say whether nothing more can be done. Watch that gallant band marching quick and far across a hostile country. See them as they suddenly encounter at least twenty times their number in arms. One angry glance is exchanged. In a moment they change their course, and make for the house which instinct told them was their only refuge. An up-hill race ensues, which Trant and his men just win by a neck. But it is a race between fifty and a thousand men; and by the time the fifty have turned in their castle they are surrounded by a thousand. Within an hour or two those thousand men are carrying off their wounded, their chief is disgraced, the army is scattered, and the country occupied by her majesty's forces. Is it possible to suppose that we cannot make anything of such a result? When the game is in our hands must we throw it away? Fortune," the proverb says, "fawors the brave." Is it reserved to us to illustrate the corollary that

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Fortune is thrown away upon cowards and fools?" We say it with all gravity, and certainly with all kindness, that a suppressed rebellion justifies and compels a somewhat sterner policy than that which befitted the mere brooding of the storm. Every hour adds to the evidences of a wide-spread conspiracy, the object of which was a simultaneous rising in arms throughout the whole island. Large stores of arms are discovered, or stopped in their passage. The commissions and accoutrements that were to convert the 'prentice lads of Dublin in captains, and their foremen into general officers, are in the hands of the police. A flood of light has been poured upon the mysteries of a twelvemonth. To this is added the fact of war. But inter arma silent leges. Surely where there is a certainty of guilt, it will be a ridiculous fastidiousness, and an abuse of legality, to risk the punishment and detention of these criminals on the doubtful courage of a jury. We will not speak of rebels being tried by rebels. That of course is impossible. But the trial of a rebel by a jury in fear of their lives is almost equally absurd. Should any of the traitors now waiting their trial be acquitted under evident terror, we trust the Irish government will take care to give them the benefit of the suppression act. We need not go further into details, but inasmuch as we are compelled to hold the country in military possession, there is the utmost propriety in maintaining for the present a quasi state of siege. As guardians of the constitution we are bound to protect it against the invasions of conspiracy and outrage. A constitution is a compromise of classes and parties. Constitutions are in abeyance when war is made or intended, and the compromise broken. After a few months it will become a question how far Ireland can again be trusted with perfect constitutional freedom.

1. Elements of Chemistry. By the late EDWARD TURNER, M.D. F.R S. Eighth Edition.Edited by Baron Liebig and Professor Gregory. London. 1847.

From the Quarterly Review. ue inainly determined by the lateness of the edition; and follow with difficulty the rapid and incessant progress of research, and the changes in doctrine, as well as data, which they have to record.

2. Elements of Chemistry. By THOMAS GRAHAM, F.R.S.L. and E. Second Edition. Part I. The present condition of Chemistry wears a still London. 1847. more marvellous aspect, if we regard it in relation In giving the titles of these two systematic to all ancient knowledge on the subject. The works on Chemistry, we must not be understood to physical philosophers of antiquity hardly reached intend an analysis of their contents, or even a criti- its borders, and never fairly crossed the threshold cal comparison of their merits. Chemical science of the science, or recognized the great principle of has become far too vast and complex a subject to inquiry which it involves. Experiment in their be dealt with by any summary in the pages of a hands was accidental and insulated, seldom adopted Review. It stands apart from and beyond the as a deliberate means of extending knowledge or margin of critical literature. Yet, as we have attaining truth. Various explanations, more or less been accustomed, from time to time, to place be- plausible, have been offered of this singular fact; fore our readers those works which more eminently chiefly founded on the methods of philosophy in illustrate the progress and revolutions of physical Greece, and the peculiarities of mental constitution knowledge, we would now use the volumes be- in this remarkable race. Such explanations do fore us as the foundation of a brief sketch of some of the great changes which Chemistry has undergone within the last fifty years, and notably within the latter half of this period; such summary coming in extension of the views we have given in former articles of the researches of Liebig, the most recent of these great advancements in chemical knowledge.

but give another form to the difficulty. We still must wonder how a people so acute in their intelligence, and so prone to reason and observe in certain points of philosophy, should have failed, save in a few eminent instances, to discover the great principle and method of experimental inquiry. The fact remains, among others of like kind, a curious and perplexing anomaly in the history of man.

If the acute perception, the τους κυκλος οἱ Greece, failed of apprehending the principle of experiment, as applied to the objects which form the science of Chemistry, we have little reason to look for such discovery among the Romans, or during the ages following the disruption of their empire. We do not attach the value some have done to the studies of the Arabian chemists, or the partial and ill-directed pursuits of the alchemists; who, though bequeathing a certain number of terms to us, can scarcely be said to have used experiment as a deliberate principle of research, and left little that has been finally incorporated into the Chemistry of the present age. Had our countryman Roger Bacon lived at a more propitious period, seeing his spirit and methods of inquiry, we may believe that he would have held high rank among the discoverers in the science. It would be idle to repeat what has been so often said of his great successor in the lapse of time, Lord Bacon--the first who fully indicated experiment and exact observation as the only road to physical truth, and gave a definite classification

Even this limited outline is not without its difficulties, seeing the magnitude and variety of the changes in question, and their intimate and increasing relation to the state and progress collaterally of the other physical sciences. They are revolutions depending not solely on the accession of new facts, but involving also new principles and methods of research a larger scope and more profound objects of inquiry, and modes of experiment infinitely more subtle and exact wherewith to attain them-and with all this, an altered nomenclature and new symbolical language, needful to meet the exigencies thus created. A chemist of forty years ago, well versed in the subject as it then stood, would be utterly lost in the labyrinth of new names, new facts, and new combinations, which appear in the works before us. This is true, even as to the elementary parts of the subject, and what is called Inorganic Chemistry; yet more true as regards the wide domain of Organic Chemistry, a land newly opened, rich in products, and cultivated with such zeal and success, that any one stationary in knowledge, even for half the time we have named, would enter it as a stranger to all he saw around. We might give passages without number, taken almost of its objects, eminently tending to the right order at random from the descriptive parts of organic and direction of pursuit. It is an error, however, chemistry, which would come upon the eye of a to imagine that the path disclosed by this extraorreader of the old chemical school with the same dinary man was at once recognized and followed obscurity as a page of "Saunders on Uses" or by others. As respects Chemistry in particular, Sugden on Powers" on the mind of the young we find that it assumed its true and complete charstudent of law first opening these mystical volumes. acter, as an experimental science, at a later period, In attestation of the same fact we find that the and from causes which would have existed had chemical writings of greatest reputation thirty Bacon's writings never appeared. We refer to years ago the original works of Fourcroy, Ber- them rather as a marvellous anticipation of the thollet, Thomson, Murray, Henry, &c.-are now methods of experimental inquiry, than as having utterly out of date and useless. Even those which given origin to those great results of modern disreplace them to the modern student have their val- covery which are now multiplying around us.

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This slight allusion to what has been called the | and brought to it an ability and zeal capable of early history of Chemistry will show that we do attaining the highest results. The merit of his not attach other value to it than as a record of the work is attested by Liebig's name in association insulated progress of man in various arts, useful with it; a conjunction which was planned before or useless, which have chemical processes for his death. The rapid progress of the science has their basis. The workers in metals from Tubal rendered needful various changes in the two ediCain downwards, and those engaged in the cook-tions which have since appeared; though, in the ery of human food in every age and country, have history of the imponderable elements and of inordealt with chemical powers and instruments, ganic Chemistry, not such in amount as to affect though not recognized as such. But it would be the character which Dr. Turner himself stamped as reasonable to call the bee a philosophical on this part of the work. The second part, dechemist, as so to designate those who have simply voted to organic Chemistry and collaborated by invented means to satisfy the needs or minister to Liebig, has only lately appeared. It embodies the the luxury of man. Chemistry illustrates these vast materials, collected from his labors and those familiar phenomena but does not depend on them. of other chemists, in a methodized form, and ranks Nor can it be affirmed that any of the greater dis- probably as the most complete existing treatise on coveries which mark its progress have had their this subject. origin in the wants of human society, though often directed and pressed forwards by this powerful incentive.

The Elements of Chemistry" of Dr. Graham is the work of an able and learned chemist-somewhat deficient perhaps in the preliminary views Without affecting exactitude, there can be little which are needful to a young student standing on error in stating that since a century only Chemistry the threshold of a new and difficult science; but has assumed its true character as a science, and showing that practical command of his subject that with a few exceptions, all the important parts which the author possesses, and which he has well of its early history are included within this period. testified in his researches on the constitution of The eminent names of Boyle, Hooke, Mayow, salts. A second edition is coming out in parts; Stahl and Hales, do indeed precede it; but not but hitherto so tardily as to justify the fear of inuntil the period between 1750 and 1790—a time equality in the several portions of a work, the subillustrated by the greater names of Black, Caven-jects of which are in a state of such incessant pro

gress and transition.

We have already named it as our object to present a short outline of the more important changes and steps of progress which mark the recent history of Chemistry; not limiting ourselves to strict chronological order; but seeking what may best illustrate the principles and present doctrines of the science, and those remarkable methods of research by which it has attained its actual condition. In doing this, we shall avoid, as far as pos

dish, Watt, Priestley, Bergman, Scheele, and Lavoisier; and by the discoveries of oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, and carbonic acid gas; of latent heat, elective affinity, the composition of water and atmospheric air, and the true nature of oxides and acids can we consider Chemistry to have acquired the foundation upon which it now rests. Allied to the other experimental sciences by similar methods of inquiry, yet vaster. and more various in its objects, it has undergone greater changes and expansion than any besides; absorb-sible, all technicalities of language, and take such ing into itself some of these collateral branches; and assuming such close relation to others as to indicate a future time when they also will merge in a more general system of physical truths-the object and end of all scientific inquiry. Whatever be the way of approaching such amalgamation, we may affirm that Chemistry must form a principal basis of it; as will be better seen when we proceed further to define the science, and to point out some of the more remarkable changes it has undergone in approaching our own times.

First, however, we must say a few words respecting the two works before us, as being those in England which best expound the actual state of chemical knowledge. The first in order of time is that of Dr. Turner, now in its eighth edition, edited conjointly by Dr. Gregory of Edinburgh, and Professor Liebig, in consequence of the premature death of the excellent chemist whose name it bears. Dr. Turner was lost to science when young in years; but not before he had established a merited reputation and won the affections of all who knew him in private life. He had studied Chemistry in the best schools at home and abroad,

illustrations only as may be most easily understood. A few general remarks, however, are necessary in preface to those more particular points on which we shall have afterwards to dwell.

In a recent article of this Review, we mentioned what we find cause to consider the two most striking characteristics of modern physical science, viz., the more profound nature of the objects, principles, and relations with which it now familiarly deals, and the wider generalizations and knowledge of causes thence obtained; and, 2ndly, the greater refinement and exactness, both of observation and experiment, with which these objects are practically pursued.

Chemistry affords some of the most remarkable instances we could select; and the more closely we examine its present state, and growing connection with other branches of physical science, the more striking will those illustrations appear. In truth, it can hardly be defined or described so as not to include its great purposes and powers; and, together with these, that exactness of methods upon which its progress mainly depends.

All great truths, whether of morals or physics, are marked by their simplicity. Although not an

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