THE MANUFACTURE OF A BEAVER-HAT. We have already given an historical account of the original and various forms of that useful covering to the head, the hat*. In the present paper, we shall endeavour to explain the mode in which a beaverhat is made. Hats formed of straw, willow, the bark of trees, and other materials of the same description, we find among the manufactures of nations in an early state of civilization, but the process by which a beaver-hat is formed, requires great judgment, an intimate knowledge of the effect of heat and moisture upon certain substances, and considerable mechanical skill. Great progress, therefore, must have taken place in the arts of life, in any nation, before a beaver-hat can be made. B A B The with the wool, is drawn out with the right hand, and when allowed to recoil, it strikes the wool, and separates and mixes its fibres; which, after floating for a time in the air, gently descend, and lie in a loose flock, on the surface of the board. bowing being repeated for a certain time, the wool is drawn into a conical or triangular shape, by means of the basket-like instrument, seen on the left of the workman, and while lying in this form on the board, it is pressed into a more firm substance, by the hardeningskin, a piece of half-tanned leather. When sufficiently The first part of the manufacture of a beaver-hat, solid for the purpose, a kind of paper model, is the making of what is called the body. The that is, a piece of stiff paper, of the same trimaterials of which the body is formed, are rabbits' angular form as the hardened wool, but somedown, lambs' wool, and a small quantity of camels' what smaller, is laid on its surface, and the edges hair. The camels' hair, which is a much longer are folded over in this manner, A being the part fibre than either of the other two materials, assists of the paper that is visible, and B B, the edges greatly in binding together the substance of the body, of the wool folded over; the paper and wool are then much after the same manner as the hair used by the laid aside, and another and equal quantity of material plasterer, in the making of mortar. purpose, the first portion which was prepared, along undergoes the same process. When ready for the with the paper mould, is laid with its upper surface, A, downwards, on the second portion of prepared wool, the edges of which are also folded over, as in the first instance; by this means, the paper mould is covered on both sides with wool, and if both portions were united, would form a conical cap(the body.) In order, therefore, to unite the fibres, the newly-formed body is sprinkled with water, and pressed and rolled in various directions. The materials are laid upon a level board, enclosed on all sides but one, to prevent their loss, when the bowstring is brought into action. The bow is large and strong, and formed of wood; not pliable, like the bow of an archer, but answering the purpose of a frame, over which, a strong string of catgut is strained. A weight is attached to a line, which runs over a pulley, and is afterwards fixed to the middle of the bow, so that when not in use, it is drawn upwards, out of the way of the workman. The material being spread on the board, the bow is drawn down nearly to the table, the middle of its frame being held firmly in the workman's left hand, the string being now almost on a level See Saturday Magazine, Vol. III., pp. 20 and 100. To comprehend this, take a piece of cotton-wool, and we shall find its fibres are easily separated when dry; but it is impossible to do the same when wet, without the employment of extreme force. The paper mould is now removed, and the cap is taken to the battery. This battery consists of a metal vessel, called the kettle, in the centre, surrounded by six or eight inclined wooden planes; the liquid in the kettle is kept nearly boiling, by means of a flue that runs round it, connected with a furnace. The body of the hat, which is at present nearly eighteen inches in width across its opening, has now to undergo the operation of thickening, which at the same time makes it smaller. For this purpose the workman dips it in the liquor contained in the kettle: this liquor is composed of dregs of beer, and a small quantity of oil of vitriol. The effect of the hot liquor is to cause the fibres of the body to shrink, and to become more closely incorporated, as well as thickened. Between each dip into the hot liquid, the workman rolls the cap up in various directions, so as to cause by constant rolling and dipping, the body is reduced the parts to become more intimately combined. When, to its proper dimensions, it is removed from the battery and dried. this is done by means of a solution of shell-lac in ration, the root end of the hair or wool employed | invariably attaches itself to the body, so that when dry, it appears as it did when growing on the back of the animal. The body is now turned inside out, and another quantity of beaver is applied in a strip along its margin, to form the under side of the brim of the hat. It is now completely covered, but is still in the form of a conical cap. To make this cap into the shape of a hat, it is, while still wet, drawn over a wooden block in the form of the crown of a hat, until the peak of the cap is gradually obliterated and becomes a flat surface, forming the top of the hat, and the lower border of the body is drawn out flat on the slanting board of the battery, and forms the brim. It is then Drawing the body over the block. The body drawn over the block. dipped in cold water, which immediately stiffens it by hardening the varnish. It is next clipped; that is, the beaver is cut into an equal length over the surface, like the pile in velvet, and afterwards carried to be dyed. The dyeing is managed in the same manner as in dyeing any other woollen goods, by steeping it in the vat of black dye. The only remaining process it has to undergo is that of finishing, which is performed by heat and moisture, and the use of a heavy iron to lay the hair all in one direction. The rim is also cut of an equal width all round, and it is fit to leave the hands of the manufacturer, to be bound and lined by women. SUNSHINE AND SHADE. A MANUFACTURER of carmine, who was aware of the superiority of the French colour, went to Lyons for the purpose of improving his process, and bargained with the most celebrated manufacturer in that city for the acquisi tion of his secret, for which he was to pay one thousand pounds. He was shown all the process, and saw a beautiful colour produced; but he found not the least difference in the French mode of fabrication, and that which had been constantly adopted by himself. He appealed to his instructor, and insisted that he must have concealed something. The man assured him that he had not, and invited him to see the process a second time He minutely examined the water and the materials, which were in every respect similar to his own, and then, very much surprised, said "I have lost my labour and my money, for the air of England does not permit us to make good carmine." "Stay," said the Frenchman, "don't deceive yourself,-what kind of wheather is it now?" "A bright sunny day," replied the Englishman. "And such are the days," said the Frenchman, "on which I make my colour. Were I to attempt to manufacture it on a dark or cloudy day, my results would be the same as yours: let me advise you, my friend, always to make carmine on bright sunny days. "I will," rejoined the Englishman, "but I fear I shall make very little in London!"-SIR H. DAVY. WHOEVER is wise, is apt to suspect and be diffident of himself, and upon that account is willing to "hearken unto counsel;" whereas the foolish man, being in proportion to his folly full of himself, and swallowed up in conceit, will seldom take any counsel but his own, and for that very reason, because it is his own.-BALGUY. THE social feelings have not been unaptly compared to a heap of embers, which, when separated, soon languish, darken, and expire; but, placed together, they glow with a ruddy and intense heat.-Private Life THE SWIFTNESS OF TIME. THE day and the night succeed each other, the rotation of seasons diversify the year, the sun rises, attains the meridian, declines and sets, and the moon every night changes its form. If the wheel of life which rolls thus silently along were to pass on through undistinguishable uniformity, we should never mark its approaches to the end of its course; if one hour were like another, if the passage of the sun did not show that the day is wasting, if the change of seasons did not impress upon us the flight of the year, if the parts of time were not variously coloured, we should never discern their departure or succession, but should live thoughtless of the past and careless of the future. Without will and perhaps without power to compute the periods of life, or to compare the time which is already lost with that which may probably remain. But the course of time is so visibly marked, that it is even observed by nations who have raised their minds very little above animal instinct; there are human beings, whose language does not supply them with words, by which they can number five: but we know of none who have not names for day and night, for summer and winter: yet these admonitions of nature, however forcible, however importunate, are too often vain; and many who mark with accuracy the lapse of time, appear to have little sensibility of the decline of life. Every man has something to do, which he procrastinates; every man has faults to conquer, which he delays to combat: from this inattention, so general, and so mischievous, let it be every man's study to exempt himself. Let him who desires to see others happy, make haste to give while the gift can be enjoyed; and let him who seeks his own happiness, reflect that while he forms his purpose the day rolls on, and the night comes when no man -JOHNSON. can work. 1818. THE KALEIDOSCOPE. MYSTIC trifle, whose perfection In thy magic circle rise All things men so dearly prize, Once again-the miser views Of gorgeous jewels rich and rare; Impatient his insatiate soul To be the owner of the whole, He breaks thee ope, and views within Such the illusions, men pursue ! NATURE hath so distributed her gifts among her children, as to promote a mutual helpfulness, and what, perhaps, is still more precious, a mutual humility among men.-CHALMERS. SAYINGS OF POOR RICHARD*. Ir would be thought a hard government that should tax its people one-tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service; but idleness taxes many of us much more: sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. "Sloth like rust, consumes faster than labour wears, while the used key is always bright," as Poor Richard says. But, "dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of," as Poor Richard says. How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep! forgetting that "the sleeping fox catches no poultry," and that "there will be sleeping enough in the grave," as Poor Richard says. If time be of all things the most precious, "wasting time since as he elsewhere tells us, "Lost time is never found must be," as Poor Richard says, "the greatest prodigality;" again; and what we call time enough, always proves little enough. Let us then up and be doing, and doing to the purpose, so by diligence shall we do more, with less perplexity. Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry, all easy;" and "he that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at night:" while “laziness travels so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him. Drive thy business, let not that drive thee; and early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise," as Poor Richard says. So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We may make these times better, if we bestir ourselves. 'Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon hope, will hands, for I have no lands, or if I have, they are smartly be fasting. There are no gains without pains; then help taxed. He that hath a trade, hath an estate; and he that hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honour," as Poor Richard says; but then the trade must be worked at, and the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious, hunger looks in, but dares not enter." we shall never starve; for "at the working man's house, Nor will the bailiff, or the constable enter; for industry pays debts, while despair increaseth them. What though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation left you a legacy, "Diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives all things to industry. Then plough deep while sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and to keep." Work while it is called to-day, for you know not how much you may be hindered to-morrow. "One to-day, is worth two to-morrows, as Poor Richard says; and further, "Never leave that till to-morrow, which you can do to-day." If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that a good master should catch you idle? Are you then your own master? be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your country, and your king.-FRANKLIN. The celebrated Dr. Franklin published an almanac with the title of Poor Richard. This article formed part of the preface to another, which he called Poor Richard improved. I FIND the following passage in an excellent sermon preached at the funeral of a gentleman who was an honour to his country, and a more diligent, as well as successful inquirer into the works of nature, than any other our nation has ever produced: "he had the profoundest veneration for the great God of heaven and earth that I have ever observed in any person. The very name of God was never mentioned by him without a pause and visible stop in his discourse; in which one, that knew him most particularly above twenty years, has told me that he was so exact, that he does not remember to have observed him once to fail in it." Every one knows the veneration which was paid by the Jews to a name so great, wonderful, and holy. They would not let it enter even into their religious discourses. What can we then think of those who make use of so tremendous a name in the ordinary expressions of their anger, mirth, and most impertinent passions? Of those who admit it into the most familiar questions and assertions, ludicrous phrases, and works of humour? not to mention those who violate it by solemn perjuries. It would be an affront to reason to endeavour to set forth the horror and profaneness of such a practice. The very mention of it exposes it sufficiently to those in whom the light of nature, not to say religion, is not utterly extinguished.-Spectator THE ROYAL PALACE AT ELTHAM, THE recent discovery of some remarkable subterra- Bishop Beke retained possession of Eltham until his death, in March, 1310, when he left his house, with all its appurtenances, to the Crown. It was almost immediately occupied by Edward the Second; and in 1315, his queen, Isabel, was here delivered of a son, subsequently known by the name of John of Eltham, after his birth-place, to which the palace no doubt owes its local name amongst the peasantry, of King John's Barn. From this period until the reign of Henry the Eighth, Eltham continued to be a favourite abode of royalty. Parliaments were frequently held there, and many interesting events are recorded in its history. Edward the Fourth, we are told, “to his great cost, repaired his house at Eltham;" indeed, it would appear that he rebuilt a considerable portion of the edifice. In 1482, this monarch kept his Christmas here publicly, with princely hospitality; two thousand persons being feasted at his cost daily. Hasted states, that "Henry the Seventh built a handsome front to this palace, towards the moat, and was usually resident here; and as appears by a record in the Office of Arms, most commonly dined in the Great Hall, and his officers kept their tables in it." With the close of the reign of Henry the Seventh, the decline of Eltham Palace may be said to have commenced; for Henry the Eighth only occasionally resided there; although he continued on two occasions to keep up the good old English mode of passing Christmas. Towards the conclusion of his reign, Henry appears to have altogether deserted Eltham for the royal palace of Placentia at Greenwich. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, it seems to have been entirely abandoned as a residence, the only record that we can find of that sovereign having remained at Eltham being in 1559, when she passed - several days there. The attachment of the "Maiden Queen" to Greenwich—the place of her birth-was naturally stronger than that of her father. Eltham, however, was not finally abandoned until 1612, when James the First spent a short time under its roof. The Palace and demesne attached to it, shared the common fate of the crown property, after the murder of Charles the First by the rebels, during the Civil War. A great portion of the extensive pile of buildings then comprising the Palace was taken down, and sold by auction for the sum of £2753, without including the cost of the demolition. The property then fell into the hands of a patriot, named Sir Thomas Walsingham, who completed the work of spoliation which had been commenced by the soldiers of the Parliament in 1648, (when the deer had all been wantonly destroyed and the parks greatly injured and disfigured,) by cutting down almost all the timber, leaving, in the words of an old writer, "scarcely a tree to make a gibbet." Previously to this, the royal demesne, including the Great, the Middle, and Horne or Lee Parks, contained seven thousand seven hundred trees, about half of which were extremely valuable, and stretched over more than sixteen hundred and fifty-two acres. On the Restoration, the whole of the property reverted to the crown. The land was subsequently (with the reservation of about 173 acres, still retained as the park of the Lord of the Manor,) divided into farms, and the shattered remains of the palace were chiefly devoted to farming purposes, or subjected to further demolition. It was found, however, that the banquetting-hall, the most splendid feature of the ancient palace, would serve the purposes of a barn; "and this," remarks Mr. Buckler the historian of the structure, with natural indignation, "and not any consideration of its venerable antiquity, the dignity of those who caused its erection, the noble uses to which it had been devoted, the excellence of its design, or the costliness of its materials, preserved it from the ruin which fell on all around." Even this beautiful structure was threatened with demolition a few years since; but the attention of Government having been drawn to it in 1828, the walls and buttresses were repaired, and the magnificent and almost unrivalled timber roof strengthened and partially renewed, under the direction of Mr. Smirke, the architect. With the exception of the louver in the roof*, which has long been removed, and the partial demolition of the parapets and many of the enrichments, it still retains all its constituent features. This princely illustration of the hospitality of the old time, appears to have been one of the latest buildings erected at Eltham, and has been attributed, on several grounds, to Edward the Fourth, whose reign, and that of Henry the Seventh, have well been termed the golden age of English architecture. This is evidenced both from the general style of the structure, and from the appearance of several celebrated heraldic devices, or badges, of Edward the Fourth, still to be found there. The bay, or oriel windows at the upper end of the hall constitute one of the most striking features of the edifice. The hall itself is 100 feet in length, 36 in breadth, and 55 feet high. Independently of the bays, this splendid room was lighted on either side by ten windows, arranged in couples. The timber-roof, which exhibits a union of great strength with a singular lightness of effect, is its most remarkable feature, and is, unquestionably, one of the finest existing specimens of the ornamental carpentry of the middle ages. Some portions of the "kitchener's" department, of the chandry, or storehouse, and of several inferior buildings, are the only other remains of the ancient royal residence. In the reign of Henry the Seventh, when the palace was in its most perfect state, it appears to have been a very stately and extensive pile. Its general outline was quadrangular, intersected by ranges of buildings which divided it into four separate quadrangles, varying in extent, and enclosing spacious courts. It was surrounded by a moat of great breadth, crossed by a drawbridge on the south, since replaced by a bank of earth, and by a stone bridge on the north, of great beauty of design, (still existing in a comparatively uninjured state,) which was defended by a strong gateway on the inner side*. See some remarks on Old English Halls, in the Saturday Magazine, Vol. V., p. 63, REMAINS OF THE ROYAL PALACE AT ELTHAM. Eltham Palace was, undoubtedly, one of the most perfect specimens of a castellated mansion ever erected in this country. Its situation, on an eminence of greater elevation than any in the neighbourhood, except Shooter's Hill, in some measure protected it against any sudden attack, whilst the recent discovery of the commencement of a series of subterranean passages, probably of very great extent, previously alluded to, evinces the care that was bestowed in providing means for the security of the royal inhabitants, in case of treason or other emergency. The existence of a series of under-ground passages, running in the direction of Blackheath to Greenwich, had long been popularly believed; but nothing certain was known on the subject until (we believe) the spring of 1834, when accident led to, the discovery. Since that period Mr. A. B. Clayton, the architect, and Dr. David King, have taken an active interest in the exploration of these military stratagems of the middle ages, and, at their own cost, have cleared about 700 feet of the passages, which were partially filled with rubbish. The writer of this article, accompanied by some friends, lately explored these passages. We descended a ladder below a trap-door, in the yard on the south front of the hall, and entered a subterranean room, ten feet by five, from whence a narrow arched passage, of about ten feet in length, conducted us "to a series of passages, with decoys, stairs, and shafts, some of which are vertical, and others on an inclined plane, which were once used for admitting air, and for hurling down missiles or pitch-balls," with deadly effect in case of attack, according to the mode of defence practised in the old time. Much skill is observable in the construction of these shafts, for they verge and concentrate at points where weapons from above could assail the enemy the most successfully. About 500 feet of passage have been entered and passed through, in a direction west towards Middle Park, and under the moat for 200 feet. The arch is broken into in the field leading from Eltham to Mottingham, but still the brick-work of the arch can be 66 | traced further, proceeding in the same direction. The remains of two iron gates, completely carbonized, were found in that part of the passage under the moat, and large stalactites, formed of super-carbonate of lime, hung down from the roof of the arch, which sufficiently indicate the lapse of time since these passages were entered. The height of the passages varies materially, arising, probably, from the imperfect clearance of the rubbish; in some places they reach nearly six feet, whilst in others they are considerably under five feet. There is a tradition, that at Middle Park, through which the passages are believed to run, there were several under-ground apartments, of sufficient extent to accommodate sixty horses. Our feelings and impressions whilst traversing these narrow and gloomy vaults, leading to an unknown distance, shut out from the cheerful light of day, and perhaps not trodden by the foot of man, for several centuries, until a short time before our visit were vivid and interesting. We had before us a realization, at all events in one instance, of the traditionary stories appertaining to so many of our old mansions and castles, hitherto disbelieved; romantic and undefinable thoughts and recollections passed across our mind, and, for the moment, we were transported, in imagination, to THE PAST. We are disposed to assign the date of these vaults to that of the reign of Edward the Second, at the commencement of the fourteenth century. We cannot conclude this hasty notice of an edifice of considerable historical interest, without expressing a hope that the highly laudable zeal of Messrs. Clayton and King, in the investigation of one of its most remarkable features, will be seconded by that of others. LONDON. JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, WEST STRAND. PUBLISHED IN WEEKLY NUMBERS, PRICE ONE PENNY, AND IN MONTHLY PARTS FRICE SIXPENCE, AND Sold by all Booksellers and Newsvenders in the Kingdom |