USES OF WATER.

If we would have a familiar illustration of the importance of water in the daily and hourly occurrences of life, let us, in imagination, accompany an individual of moderate rank and condition in society, from the time of his rising in the morning, till the hour of sleep at night, in order to observe the utility of water in administering, either directly or indirectly, to his various wants and habits. How great is the comfort, to say nothing of the salubrity of the practice, which results to him from the application of water to the surface of the body, by means either of the bath or any simpler process! And, again, the change of the linen in which he is partially clothed, is rendered equally comfortable and salutary, in consequence of its having been previously submitted to the process of washing. The infusion of coffee or of tea, which is, probably, an essential part of his earliest meal, could not have been prepared without water; neither could the flour, of which his bread consists, have been kneaded; nor the food of his subsequent meal, the broths, and most of the vegetables, at least, have been rendered digestible, without the aid of the same fluid; and, with respect to his common beverage, whether milk, or any form of fermented liquor, water still constitutes the main bulk of that beverage.

So far the use of water is directly and immediately necessary to his comfort and subsistence; but its indirect and remote necessity is equally observable in all that surrounds him. There is scarcely an article of his apparel, in some part of the preparation of which, water has not been necessarily employed. In the tanning of the leather of his shoes; in the dressing of the flax of which his linen is made; in the dyeing of the wool of his coat, or of the materials of his hat. Without water, the China or earthen cups, out of which he drinks, could not have been turned on the lathe; nor the bricks, of which his house is constructed, nor the mortar by which they are cemented, have been formed. The ink with which he writes, and the paper which receives it, could not have been made without the use of water. The knife with which he divides his solid food, and the spoon with which he conveys it; when in a liquid form, to his mouth, could not have been, or at least, have not, probably, been formed, without the application of water, during some part of the process of making them.

By water the medicinal principles of various vegetable and mineral substances are extracted, and rendered portable, which could not be introduced into the animal system in a solid state: and this element itself becomes occasionally a most powerful medicinal instrument by its external application, in every one of its forms; whether as a liquid, under the name of cold or warm bath, or in the form of ice, in restraining inflammation and hæmorrhage; or lastly, in the state of steam, as in the application of the vapour-bath.

[KIDD's Bridgewater Treatise.]

HEALTH is more frequently undermined by the gradual operation of constant, though disregarded causes, than by any great and marked exposures of an accidental kind; and is, consequently, more effectually to be preserved by a judicious and steady observance of the organic laws in daily life, than by exclusive attention to any particular function, to the neglect of all the rest.-COMBE.

Ir is not from great occurrences alone, that a correct judgment is formed of men and things; it is more from the daily, common round, than from the great and blazoned events, that a just knowledge is acquired of the characters of individuals; perhaps, also of empires, nations, and colonies.-G. P.

DUTCH FARMERS AT THE cape of GOOD HOPE. THE Dutch farmer lives in a lonely sequestered vale, rich in flocks and herds, and abundantly blessed with the means of good living. Sometimes, like a patriarch, he presides over a family of eighteen or twenty children, and a vast retinue of slaves, when his station is one of no mean order. He sits at the head of his table with his hat on, his pipe generally stuck in it by way of ornament. Previous to dinner, a small tub of water is brought to him, in which his face, hands, and feet, are washed. The tub is then taken to the next in importance in the family, who is gene rally the eldest son or the mother, who go through the same process; and afterwards the whole group do the same in their turn. After this is concluded, a little boy, generally some adopted or favourite slave, stands up and chants a long poetical grace, to which the most respectful attention is paid, and the repast commences.

No one can stay too long at the house of a Dutchman, nor can he ever wear out his blunt hospitality. When you talk of leaving, the boor is distressed, and immediately asks with the utmost simplicity, “An't I nice ?—An't wife nice? An't slaves good?" If business be advanced as the excuse to go, he urges you to stay with "Never mind the business now; do it another time." If you still persist, he is sorry; concern and regret are expressed by the whole family; and his slaves are drawn up to witness your departure. He expects no other acknowledgment of his attention than a pinch of snuff to each of the slaves, who, when they get it, immediately commence rubbing their teeth

with it.

The Dutch, at the Cape, appear to agree with the Spanish proverb that "Haste comes from the devil," for they are most dilatory persons in transacting business. If a Dutchman calls on a person there, and you ask him about the health of his wife, give him some refreshment and plenty of conversation, the probability is that he will go away without transacting the business he came upon. He departs highly satisfied with you, and calls you "a nice man," and even "a Christian man."-WEBSTER'S Voyage of the Chanticleer.

THE following is an instance of the sagacity of a Dog, and of his capability of measuring time, if I may so call it.

There were two friends, one living in London, and the other at Guildford. These friends were on terms of great intimacy; and for many years it had been the custom of the London family to pass the Christmas at Guildford; and their uniform practice was to arrive to dinner the day before Christmas-day, and to be accompanied by a large spaniel, who was as great a favourite with the visited as with the visiters. At the end of about seven years after this plan had been adhered to, the two families had an unfortunate misunderstanding, which occasioned an omission of the usual Christmas invitation. About an hour before dinner, on the day before Christmas-day, the Guildford gentleman, standing at his window, exclaimed to his wife," Well, my dear, the W's have thought better of it; for I declare they are coming as usual, though we did not invite them. here comes Cæsar to announce them!" and the dog came trotting up to the door, and was admitted, as usual, to the parlour. The lady of the house gave orders to prepare beds; dinner waited an hour; but no guests arrived. Cæsar, after staying the exact number of days he had been accustomed to, set off for home, and reached it in safety. The correspondence which of necessity occurred, had the happy effect of renewing the intercourse of the estranged friends; and as long as Cæsar lived, he paid the annual visit in company with his master and mistress.-JESSE.

THE generous never recounts minutely the actions he has done, nor the prudent those he will do.-LAVATER.

SUNDAYS observe; think when the bells do chime,
'Tis angels' music, therefore come not late:
God then deals blessings.

Let vain or busy thoughts have then no part:
Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasure thither
Christ purged his temple, so must thou thy heart.
HERBERT.

LONDON

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NATIONAL STATUES. No. VII.

SIR ISAAC NEWTON.

THE white marble statue of Newton, represented in our engraving, was erected in 1750, to the memory of that famous person, at the expense of Dr. Robert Smith, Master of Trinity College, Cambridge. It stands in the ante-chapel of the College, and is of first-rate merit as a work of art, being a finished production of the eminent sculptor, L. F. Roubiliac, about whom we might say much that would interest our readers. This, however, we shall reserve to another opportunity, and proceed at once to furnish a memoir of the greatest philosopher that ever lived. ISAAC NEWTON was born at Woolsthorpe, in the parish of Colsterworth, Lincolnshire, on Christmasday, old style, 1642. He was remarkably small and tender, as a child, and it was a saying of his mother, that at that time she could have put him into a quart mug; but, as he grew up, he became robust, and enjoyed the blessing of health and a vigorous constitution till his eightieth year. At twelve years old, having received some previous instruction, he was sent to the grammar-school at Grantham, where, like Bacon, at about the same age, he showed remarkable proofs of a gifted and thoughtful mind. Instead of playing with the other boys, he was almost always busied in forming different kinds of models in wood: for this purpose, he procured saws, hatchets, hammers, and other tools; and even succeeded in producing a wooden clock. The object, however, which chiefly engaged his attention, was a new windmill, building near Grantham. Watching the progress of its construction, he made one on a very small scale, which in workmanship was considered equal to the original. When finished, he set it upon the top of the house where he lodged; and fitting a small piece of linen to each of the sails, saw how the wind turned them. He put a mouse into the mill, and called it the miller; who, instead of helping to turn the sails, as his master wished, often stopped to eat the corn that was put in to be ground.

We have not room, curious as it might be, to describe all his various plans of this kind, the pursuit of which generally kept him low in his

class at school: but little did his master and schoolfellows imagine, when noticing the neat kites he flew at Grantham, and the transparent paper lanterns with candles in them, fastened to their tails, which looked at night like so many comets, that the young inventor would one day astonish not only Europe, but the whole world, by his discovery of the intricate though harmonious laws of creation itself, and aid in evincing the wisdom of God in the most wonderful of His

works! And still less did his mother dream of this mighty result, when she took him away from school, to help in keeping his late father's farm, and to attend the Saturday market at Grantham. Often, indeed, did he stop between his home and that town, to study some old book under a hedge; or when set about watching sheep, would he sit sadly, though not idly, beneath a tree. It has been said that a really clever person is seldom aitogether idle; and, doubtless, from the period at which Newton could think and reason, his mind was incessantly and profoundly at work.

Such a genius could not long remain concealed; and an uncle, who was a clergyman, and a man of excellent sense, became the instrument, under Providence, of effectually directing the mind of Newton into the track for which it was formed, by getting him placed at the University. Trinity maintained at that period, as we believe it does now, the leading place * See Saturday Magazine, Vol. VI., , p. 247.

among colleges at Cambridge, both in classics and mathematics; and while that royal foundation continues to receive lustre from such names as LORD

BACON, ISAAC BARROW, COTES, NEWTON, DRYDEN, BENTLEY, and PORSON, (we refrain from citing living worthies, of whom there are not a few,) it shows itself at this day not undeserving the place of emi. nence which it formerly enjoyed. Of this College, in the ever-memorable year 1660, when he was eighteen years old, the great Newton became a member; Dr. Barrow, a Fellow and Professor, being his friend, and

the director of his studies.

Having taken his degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1664, he was driven from Cambridge in the following year, by the plague, which did not confine its ravages to London. It was at about this period of his absence from the University, perhaps when at Woolsthorpe, that the circumstance of an apple falling to the ground from a tree, as he sat beneath it in a garden, gave him the first idea of the law of gravitation, which he afterwards followed out into the most important results. By unwearied application, he is said to have hence determined the principle of motion of the earth, the moon, the several planets, and the comets, in their respective orbits! One of the best poets of our times, in his Lines on a Tear, exquisitely alludes to the application of the same mighty principle to the greatest and the least of things:

That very law† which moulds a tear,
And bids it trickle from its source,—
That law preserves the earth a sphere,

And guides the planets in their course.

-ROGERS.

In 1667, Newton, having laid the foundation of his great work, "The Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy," returned to Cambridge, and was elected Fellow of his College. In 1669, he succeeded Barrow, as Lucasian professor of Mathematics, and in 1672 became a Fellow of the Royal Society, an institution then in its infancy, to which he communicated his "New Theory of Light and Colours." This was his favourite discovery, and had, previous to its publication, employed him for thirty years. So early as 1664, he bought a prism at Cambridge, and in 1666 proceeded to try, by means of that simple but valuable instrument, the laws of colours, on the nature and origin of which many and varying notions had existed. It is not within the compass of our present undertaking, to enter fully into this subject, but we will only state, that the grand conclusion drawn by New ton, was, "That light consists of different rays, some of which are more easily refrangible than others;" that is, from one transparent body to another: and it follows are more easily turned out of their way in passing that, after such refraction, they will be separated, and

their distinct colour observed."

Thus our great philosopher, who is represented in his statue with the prism in his hand, and whom Thomson well terms the " awful Newton," proved that a beam of white light, as emitted from the sun, consists of seven different colours; namely, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet; for into these seven colours is the beam separated by the prism ‡. This was a startling discovery. "I could never think," says the celebrated Flamsteed §, "that whiteness The law of gravitation.

"

A PRISM of Glass is, in the words of Sir Isaac Newton himself, a glass bounded with two equal and parallel triangular ends, and three plain and well-polished sides, which meet in three parallel lines, running from the three angles of one end to the three angles of the other end."

The Rev. J. Flamsteed, the first astronomer-royal, an account of whom, together with his British Catalogue of Stars, has lately been edited by F. Baily, Esq., Vice-President of the Royal Society. The first effect of this work on the mind of the general reader, would probably be to lower his opinion of Newton's character, which Flamsteed, both in his history of himself and in his letters,

was a compound of all the different sorts of rays mixed: but, upon trial, I found all the experiments succeeded as Newton related them."

Strange to say, this theory, when offered to the world, was received, in some quarters, not only with feelings of jealous opposition, but of bitter unkindness towards their author, whose peace of mind was, in consequence, much disturbed; as appears from the following passage in his letter, to a man of science, dated 1675. "I had some thoughts of writing a further discourse about colours, to be read at one of your assemblies; but find it yet against the grain to put pen to paper any more on that subject:" and in a letter to Leibnitz, a distinguished German astronomer, in the course of the same year, he remarks, "I was so persecuted with discussions arising from the publication of my theory of light, that I blamed my own imprudence for parting with so substantial a blessing as my quiet, to run after a shadow." Nor did his anxieties, arising from the spleen of his enemies, terminate here. He had, indeed, been appointed Master of the Mint in 1699, through the generous influence of the Earl of Halifax, and knighted by Queen Anne in 1705; but in 1714, whilst much regarded in the court of George the First, we find him involved in a troublesome quarrel with Leibnitz, who contested with him the credit of a valuable invention in mathematics-that of Fluxions, and who tried to undermine him in the good opinion of the then Princess of Wales, (afterwards Queenconsort of George the Second,) by representing our great philosopher's views not only as false, but as tending to irreligion. Newton, however, is known to have been a firm believer, and a sincere Christian. His discoveries concerning the frame and system of the universe were applied by him to prove the being of a God, and to illustrate His power and wisdom in the creation. He likewise studied with the utmost attention the Holy Scriptures, and considered several parts of them with critical care, particularly as to the series of prophecies and events relating to the Messiah; and he left behind him an elaborate treatise, to prove that the famous prophecy of Daniel's weeks was an express prediction of the coming of the Messiah, and fulfilled in JESUS CHRIST,

the eternal Son of God.

He was eighty years old, and appeared to be enjoying a green old age, when first seriously attacked by disease. It was then, after many years of robust health, that he was called to suffer agonizing pains, which, though they sometimes caused large drops of perspiration to run down his face, he bore with entire resignation to the will of the Almighty. A delightful instance of his mild and amiable temper is on record, as having occurred in the height of his fame. One day, on his having been called out of his study into an adjoining room, a favourite little dog threw down a lighted candle, by which a quantity of papers, and in them the labours of years, were consumed. When Sir Isaac returned, and noticed the injury he had sustained, he merely rebuked the dog by exclaiming, "O Diamond! Diamond! thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done!" In proof of the deep sense he entertained of his own insufficiency, and of the Divine perfections, we are told, in Spence's Anecdotes," that once, when complimented on his great discoveries in philosophy, he answered, "Alas! I am only like a child, picking up pebbles on the shore of the great ocean of truth." Some amusing would lead us to dislike: but those persons who look below the surface, will perceive in the language of the latter person, a querulous and pettish tone, when speaking of Newton, and an eagerness to take offence where none appears to have been intended. Still, the volume is curious, and the editor's task has been faithfully executed,

anecdotes of what we call absence are also related of him. But it is hardly fair to measure such a mind as Newton's by a common standard: his strength lay in thinking deeply and correctly, not in speaking; and whilst a member of parliament for the University of Cambridge, for some years, he seldom addressed the House.

This great man, who is well said on the pedestal of his statue, to have 'surpassed all his fellow men in genius," expired on the 18th of March, 1727. Unlike the other philosopher of England, Lord Bacon, he knew the proper value of money; and though far removed from meanness, became rich, and was thus enabled to do many acts of kindness, particularly to his poor relations. His London residence was in St. Martin's Street, Leicester Square, at a house which may still be seen. He was honourably interred, at the public expense, in Westminster Abbey.

THE BOUQUETIN, OR IBEX,

(Capra Ibex.)

M.

THIS animal, which is one of the most elegant of the Goat tribe, was formerly found in the Alps and the Pyrenees in considerable abundance, but has latterly become much more rare, owing to the constant efforts of the hardy hunters of those regions. The whole of the goat tribe are noted for their cunning and lively physiognomy, their fine sense of smelling, and great activity and sureness of foot. Unlike many of the antelopes and stags, the female goats are all furnished with horns, which are, however, much smaller than those of the male. The favourite haunts of all these animals are the highest ranges of mountains to which vegetation extends, where they may be seen perched on the summits of the steepest peaks, or on the edge of the profoundest precipices. From these lofty situations, their quickness of sight enables them to perceive their enemies from a great distance. If pursued, their activity is such, that they can spring from rock to rock with the greatest rapidity. If, by any means, they should be brought to bay, and obliged to act on the defensive, the danger to which the hunter who ventures to approach is exposed is very great: this more particularly applies to the species represented in the engraving.

The following account of the habits of the Ibex, is extracted from Coxe's Travels in Switzerland.

The male Bouquetin is larger than the tame goat, but resembles it much in the outer form. The head is small in proportion to the body, with the muzzle thick, compressed, and a little arched; the eyes are large, round, and have much fire and brilliancy. The horns large, when of a full size weighing sometimes sixteen or eighteen pounds. The beard long, tawny, or dusky. The body short, thick, and strong.

The female is one-third less than the male, and not so corpulent; her colour is less tawny; her horns very small, and not above eight inches long. The young are of a dirty gray colour.

the head low, but in running holds it high, and even bends In a state of tranquillity, the Bouquetin generally carries it a little forward. He mounts a perpendicular rock of fifteen feet at three leaps, or rather three successive bounds of five feet each. It does not seem as if he found any footing on the rock, appearing to touch it merely to be repelled, like an elastic substance striking against a hard body. He is not supposed to take more than three successive leaps in this manner. If he is between two rocks, which are near each other, and wants to reach the top, he leaps from the side of one rock to the other alternately, till he has attained the summit. He also traverses the glaciers with rapidity, but only when he is pursued, for otherwise he avoids them.

The Bouquetins feed, during the night, in the highest woods; but the sun no sooner begins to gild the summits,

than they quit the woody region, and mount, feeding in their progress, till they have reached the most considerable heights. They betake themselves to the sides of the mountains which face the east or south, and lie down in the highest places, and hottest exposures; but when the sun has finished more than three-quarters of his course, they again begin to feed, and to descend towards the woods, whither they retire when it is likely to snow, and where they always pass the Winter.

The Bouquetins assemble in flocks, consisting, at the most, of ten, twelve, or fifteen, but more usually in smaller numbers. When the males are six years old and upwards, they haunt more elevated places than the females and younger Bouquetins; and as they advance in age, and are less fond of society, they become gradually hardened against extreme cold, and frequently live entirely alone.

In Summer they feed principally on the numerous species of aromatic plants which grow in the higher alps; and in Winter they eat the lichens, and browse on bushes, and the tender shoots of trees. They prefer those spots where the dwarf birch and alpine willows grow, and where rhododendron thalictrum and saxifrages abound.

quetin, being overtaken by darkness, amid crags and precipices, they are obliged to pass the whole night standing, embraced, in order to support each other, and to prevent themselves from sleeping. As the Bouquetins ascend into the higher regions very early in the morning, it is necessary to gain the heights before them, otherwise they scent the hunter, and betake themselves to flight. It would then be in vain to follow them; for when once they begin to escape, they never stop till they think themselves entirely out of danger, and will even sometimes run for ten or twelve leagues.

The female shows much attachment to her young, and even defends it against eagles, wolves, and other enemies: she takes refuge in some cavern, and presenting her head at the entrance of the hole, thus opposes her enemy.

When a Bouquetin is shot, the hunters let it cool upon the spot, and then embowel it, putting the blood into one of the entrails, which is esteemed by the peasants a sovereign remedy in many disorders. A large Bouquetin, thus embowelled, will weigh 180 or 200 pounds; à female weighs only from 70 to 80 pounds.

THE USEFUL ARTS. No. XVI.

TRIES.-MODES OF MAKING IT.-PROPERTIES OF THE MILK OF VARIOUS ANIMALS.

The season for hunting the Bouquetin is toward the end of Summer; and in Autumn, during the months of August and September, when they are usually in good condition. None but the inhabitants of the mountains engage in the chase; for it requires not only a head that can bear to look down from the greatest height without terror,-address, and sure-footedness in the most difficult and dangerous passes, and to be an excellent marksman,-but also much strength and vigour to support hunger, cold, and prodigious fatigue. The most determined hunters of Bouquetins live in the mountains of the lower valleys. Two or three hunters usually associate in this perilous occupation. They are armed with rifle-barrelled guns, and furnished with small bags of provisions; they pass the night among rocks at considerable heights; and erect a miserable hut of turf, where they lie without fire or covering, and on waking, not unfrequently find the entrance blocked up with snow, three or four feet in depth. Sometimes, in pursuit of a Bou

CHEESE consists of the curd, or albuminous part of milk, separated from the rest, salted and dried; but a great deal of the oily part of the butter is also preserved, to give flavour and richness to the cheese. The richest cheeses, therefore, are those which are made from the milk which has not been deprived of the cream. The difference of quality of cheeses, in a great measure, depends on this; but a large proportion of very good cheese is made from skimmed milk.

The first process necessary to making cheese, is to prepare some matter which, when added to the milk, will cause it to coagulate, or will separate the curd from the other elements. This may be effected by many substances, as has been mentioned; but that which is usually employed is a liquor obtained by steeping the stomach of a young calf in milk or water, and is called rennet. The gastric juice, with which the stomach of all animals is provided, possesses the power of coagulating milk. That of the calf is preferred, partly because it is readily obtained, and partly because it must possess this faculty in an eminent degree; cows' milk being the natural food of the young animal, and its stomach being therefore best adapted to digest that fluid.