When the rennet is wanted, the whole, or part of the stomach is soaked in water or milk, till the liquid has imbibed a sufficiency of the gastric juice. This infusion being added to the rest of the milk, causes the curd to form and separate from the whey. The milk must be warmed to the temperature of 80° or 90°, to admit of this action taking place. The curd is next broken in small pieces, as it floats in the whey, by a wooden spatula, or cheese-knife. The tub is then covered up, and left till the curd subsides to the bottom: the whey is poured, or drawn off, and this process is repeated till the curd is freed from the liquid as much as it can be by simple draining. When the curd has again united, it is rebroken; salt is added, and it is pressed by a board loaded with weights, till it becomes hard and dry enough to remove to the vats, or moulds, in which the cheese is formed. A clean cloth is laid over each vat, and the salted, broken curd being packed on this, the cloth is folded over to cover it well up. The vat is then covered over with a circular board that fits it; and the whole is subjected to pressure in a screw-press, till all the whey is squeezed out, and the cheese is formed. Each cheese is then removed from the vat and cloth, and being set on a board, is kept in a cheese-room, or airy loft, to dry and mature; during which time it is turned, wiped, sorted, and every care taken that it may not get mouldy, or spoil.

THE CHEESE-PRESS

In England, it is usual to colour cheese of a yellow or orange colour, by adding to the milk a preparation from the pulp covering the seeds of the Arnatto tree (Bixa orellana), a South American plant. This pulp is dried and preserved, and when powdered, is put into the warm milk, before the reunet is added. An ounce weight of genuine Arnatto will colour one hundred weight of cheese.

It has been computed that from three to four hundred weight of cheese, or double the weight of the butter, is annually made from the milk of each cow in England.

Cheshire cheese, which may be taken as the example of the best English ordinary kind, is made from the milk with the cream left in it; the morning's milk being added to that of the preceding evening, which is previously warmed. It has been calculated that there are 11,500 tons of this cheese made annually.

Stilton cheese. The cream collected from the preceding milking, is added, with the rennet, to the new milk. The curd is taken out whole, and put into a sieve to drain, and is pressed gently till it acquires some consistence. The In many countries the curd found, naturally formed from the mother's milk, by the action of the gastric juice, in the stomach of the calf, is made use of to turn milk for cheese-making. On some occasions, they impregnate bread with the juice of the stomach, and dry and preserve it; or, they macerate the stomach in vinegar, and keep this liquor for the purpose. In Holland, instead of rennet, muriatic acid is employed to coagulate the milk in the making of Gouda cheese.

Cream cheese is only cheese of the usual ingredients, newly made, and not coloured or much salted. Like that last mentioned, it is made extra rich of cream. The most celebrated is that of Cottenham, and Southam, in Cambridgeshire; Banbury, Bath, and York.

Parmesan cheese owes its flavour to the rich pasturage of the Lombard province. It is made from skimmed milk, which is put into a copper, hung over a wood fire, till it reaches a temperature of 84°, being well stirred during the time to prevent its burning. The copper being removed, and the rennet added, the curd is broken fine by stirring; some of the whey being removed, the copper is again put over the fire, till the whole is raised nearly to a boiling heat. When the curd is, by this means, rendered sufficiently solid, the cauldron is again taken off, and left till the curd subsides and cools: the whey is drawn off, and the curd taken out by a cloth passed under it, and placed in the mould. The rest of the process is similar to that for common cheese. The best Parmesan cheese is kept for three or four years before it is taken to market.

Gruyere cheese is flavoured by the Melilotus officinalis, dried and powdered; in other respects it is made like Parmesan.

All cheese for keeping must be impregnated with salt during its manufacture; and the more thoroughly the whey as been pressed out of the curd, the better the cheese will keep.

Every preparation of milk, and every separate ingredient of it, is wholesome; and when they disagree with any one, it is a sure proof that that person's stomach is diseased. Milk, cream, butter, cheese, fresh curds, whey, skimmedmilk butter-milk, and even any, or all, of these, coagulated and sour by incipient putrefaction, are perfectly innocent to the healthy. Butter-milk and whey will undergo a spontaneous, vinous fermentation, if kept long enough, and alcohol can be distilled from them. They are used as intoxicating liquors, in this state, in the northern parts of our island. The Tartars, as is well known, prepare large quantities of spirituous drink from mare's milk.

The milk of the Mare is inferior in oily matter to that of the cow, but contains more sugar, and of the other salts.

The milk of the Ewe is as rich as that of the cow in oil, but contains less sugar than that of other animals. Cheese made of ewe-milk, is still made in some northern counties of England, and in Scotland, but it is gradually being disused, as inferior to that made from cow-milk.

The milk of the Ass approaches human milk in several of its qualities. To this resemblance it owes its use by invalids in pulmonary complaints; but it has no particular virtue to recommend it to this preference, and is only prescribed by nurses. It is, however, perfectly innocent.

Goats milk, perhaps, stands next to that of the cow in its qualities; accordingly, it is much used in Southern Europe. It affords excellent cheese and butter, its cream being richer and more copious than that from cows milk.

Camels' milk is employed in China, Africa, and, in short, in all those countries where that animal flourishes. It is however poor in every respect; but still, being milk, it is invaluable where better is not to be procured.

The milk of the Sow resembles that of the cow, and is used at Canton and other parts of China.

The milk of the Buffalo is precisely like that of the cow, though the two animals belong to different species.

nivorous animal. There is no reason for believing that the As far as we know, no nation uses the milk of any carmilk of this order of animals would be either disagreeable or unwholesome; but the ferocity and restlossness of the creatures will always present an obstacle to the experiment. It has been already mentioned, that the different milks of animals, with which we are acquainted, agree in their sensible and chemical qualities; and this is confirmed by the facility with which other animals, besides man, can be nourished in infancy by the milk of very distinct species, and even genera, or orders. Rats and leverets have been suckled by cats, fawns by ewes, foals by goats; and man, in all stages of his existence, has been nourished by the milk of various animals, except the carnivorous.

LABOUR AND CAPITAL.

When the operative has performed his work, and received the price of his labour, he has no more right in that which he has produced, than the baker would have to the bread which he has sold, and which the purchaser is about to put into his mouth. The product of labour may be consumed, like the bread of the baker, by the person who has paid for it; or it may remain with him, and add to the amount of his possessions, in other words, to his capital. He may employ others to work upon it, and give it new properties and increased value; and these, when they have been paid for their work, will have no more right in the new article than their predecessors. This kind of process may go on to an unlimited extent, and in an endless variety of ways, in all of which, labour is converted into capital; the value of which, it is true, may be increased by an amount of money, which is, in fact, one form of capital, and that which is often very conveniently exchanged for other forms. But money must not, any more than labour, be confounded with capital in its most extensive sense. The knowledge which an individual may acquire, is as much a species of capital as the sums of money which another individual may have in his iron chest, or at his banker's. Those who possess money may hire the time and talents of the well-informed, and thus make an exchange of capital.

The operative may also want the services of the well-informed, and give for them a portion of his own labour; but, his time being worth less, he must give it for a longer period. Thus, the operative and the wealthy, have both the means of procuring the use of a kind of property very different from that possessed by themselves, though neither would be correct in saying that their possession was a substitute for that which they receive; for, if the wellinformed did not exist, neither the gold of the one, nor the labour of the other, could supply his place.

This example of capital in the form of knowledge, is perhaps as striking and intelligible as any which could be offered; but the principle is equally applicable to every other species of capital. If you see the full extent to which this reasoning may be carried, you will clearly perceive that labour and capital are not strictly convertible as substitutes, the one for the other; and that although capital may be the result of labour, yet that labour without capital would often be crippled and unproductive. You will, therefore, also perceive how much reason there is in regarding the strict observation of the rights of property, as the first step towards social order and civilization. If a person cannot retain the secure possession of, and control over, that which he acquires, he will have no inducement to acquire; every one would live, as

it were, from hand to mouth. There might, it is

lation of capital; and consequently, this labouring force would be of little value. The largest number of able-bodied men which imagination can conceive, all ready to exert their most strenuous efforts, would not be equivalent to a small troop of workmen, each possessing a little capital in his acquired skill and his utensils, directed by intelligent persons, possessing a larger share of capital in their science and instruments, and having a still larger amount of capital to work with, in the materials which previous labour has collected and prepared. It is of the utmost importance that the labouring classes, especially when pressed by poverty, should duly consider the importance, even for their own interest, of rigidly respecting the rights of property; since, if that be consumed, or driven to other spots, they must themselves be the chief sufferers.

Property may be rendered insecure in various ways. It is by no means necessary that the highwayman should take the purse of his richer neighbour; that banditti should seize on wagon-loads of merchandize; that burglars should break into houses, and carry off gold, silver, and notes; or that incendiaries should destroy the well-harvested fruits of the field. The most serious evils resulting from the insecurity of capital, may be brought about by means less formidable in their appearance; means, which the higher, middle, and lower classes, are too often directing against the prosperity and happiness of their country. Those who contract enormous debts which they never mean to pay, and involve unfortunate creditors in ruin, whilst they leave immense entailed wealth to their heirs or representatives, are as great rogues as those barons of old, who invaded the estates of their neighbours, and taking black-mail, drove their cattle to their own fortresses. He who, in the middle ranks of society, supports a fictitious credit by accommodation bills, or by the sale of goods for which he never means to pay, is as dishonest as the thief, the highwayman, and the burglar; and still more injurious to the interests of society. And he who, imposing on the benevolence of the public, contrives to possess himself of the property of others, by fictitious or exaggerated tales of misery, and who lives by begging when he might work, is a worthless incumbrance upon society. Those who, by their conduct, destroy or impair the great productive resources of the country, whether agricultural, manufacturing, or commercial, as effectually injure their country as if they were foreign armies laying waste fields ripe for harvest.

There are various ways in which the operative classes are, directly and indirectly, benefited by the capital employed in the branches of business in which they are engaged. The ingenious artisan, or mechanic, finds means, with the consent of his employers, of making and attempting improvements which he might never have conceived, if their capital in machinery and other forms, had not been available to him; or which, could he have conceived them, he never could have found the means of putting to proof. Numerous instances have occurred in which individuals have raised themselves to reputation and wealth by this very simple advantage, which they have found in the capital of others. Instances are, perhaps, still more numerous, in which individuals, without extraordinary genius or talent, but simply by the force of good sense, honesty, and industry, have progressively raised themselves from poverty to wealth, whilst discharging their duty towards the property of others.

Many operations of a mercantile or manufacturing character, or large works, destined to add to the

prosperity or comfort of the country, and which give active employment to a large number of persons, could not be carried on without capital, which supplies not only the materials, but also wages and subsistence, during a long period, it may be of several years, in which the work is producing nothing. A large proportion of the productive and labouring hands in the country, are thus supplied with the means of subsistence, through the influence of capital, who would be thrown out of work, if they could be employed in no other labour than that which is immediately productive. A little reflection will show the great extent to which the supply of the necessaries and comforts of life to all classes, is to be attributed to the security of the rights of property, and to the opportunity which this security has afforded to individuals of talent, industry, and good management, to become possessed of property, or, in other words, to establish a capital.

A conviction of the importance of the security of property, which these considerations should induce, may not prevent comparisons of the inequality in the distribution of property, and of the evils which attend those who are placed at either extremes with respect to it. But, at the same time, all must be convinced, that an equal distribution of wealth can neither be hoped for, nor desired; and that the arbitrary measures which, by some, have been contemplated to bring it about, would be as ruinous and unsuccessful, as the idea is unjust and foolish. If all the property in the country could, in one day, be equally divided amongst the entire population, this equality would not continue for twenty-four hours; and the disturbance, ruin, and misery, which the attempt to bring about such a division would occasion, would not be counterbalanced by the smallest amount of advantage. The instances of individuals possessed of little or nothing, who have suddenly received considerable sums of money, which, instead of turning to their own advantage, they have dissipated with the utmost rapidity, in foolish and profligate expenses, are numerous; whilst it is extremely difficult to find an example in which the opposite result has followed. How often has the miser's hoard been completely fooled away, in a short space of time, by his heir, who has rather been intoxicated and ruined, than in any respect benefited, by the fortune to which he has succeeded! Even those sums which are the well-earned fruits of an individual's own hard service, if they are not collected by his own economy and care, are too apt to share the fate of ill-gotten, or foolishly-bestowed wealth. No instances of this kind are more striking, or more notorious, than those of sailors, who receive their arrears of wages after a long voyage.

The due consideration of these facts leads to two very important principles. The first, that it is foolish, as well as wicked, to envy the property which others possess by an undoubted right, and to seek to wrest it from them, in order to bestow it on those who have little or nothing. The second, that it is essential that all should duly feel the advantage of the careful, prudent, and economical expenditure of small sums, and of early acquiring the habit of spending less than they earn. The earlier this principle is acted upon, the easier and more effectual it will be; whilst the opposite is equally true, that if a person neglect the opportunity of saving, when the amount which he can lay up is small, he will lose the opportunity, as well as the disposition, to do so with a larger sum. Every sum, however small, which an individual lays up in conformity with this principle, is like a snowball, around which successive additions accumulate and add to its bulk, These additions must either

consist of what is rescued from consumption in the new productions to which the combined operation of labour and capital gives rise, and, therefore, constitute a real addition to the amount of capital in the country, or they must be derived from the stores possessed by others, and, therefore, merely consist of a transfer of property. But, in either case, the tendency is to produce an equalization in the distribution of property, by the most effectual and advantageous means. The good order, as well as the happiness, of the poorer classes of society, would be greatly promoted by carrying this principle into general practice. Let it not, however, be supposed, that a propensity is here advocated to miserly hoarding, to sordid avarice, or to the inordinate love of money. The reckless neglect of economy where it is most wanted, may be corrected without falling into those evils.

When you do anything from a clear judgment that it ought to be done, never shun the being seen to do it, even though the world should make wrong suppositions about it. If you do not act right, shun the action itself; but if you do, why are you afraid of those who censure you wrongly.

[Abridged from the Economical Library.]

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

EVERY authentic circumstance relating to this great Queen, must be interesting to Englishmen. Her excellent judgment appeared in the wise choice of her ministers, and in the truly Protestant spirit which she displayed in the government of this country. If, then, it is curious to trace the habits and manners of famous individuals who have moved in a less exalted sphere of life, and in later days, it is still more interesting to obtain an exact and lively sketch, drawn to the life by an eye-witness, of a person so illustrious for rank, as well as tact and talent, as was our good Queen Elizabeth.

PAUL HENTZNER, a native of Germany, during the reign of the above Queen, performed a tour through England, France, and Italy, as travelling tutor to a young German nobleman. He landed at Rye in 1598, and made the best of his way to London, where he was amazingly struck with Westminster Abbey, old St. Paul's, the Tower, &c. He went to Windsor, and other parts of the country, noting down the various matters of curiosity which he beheld, and which he afterwards detailed in Latin, in a small volume now rarely met with. Horace Walpole, struck with his good Latinity, and the remarkable description he gives of Queen Elizabeth, published, and dedicated to the Society of Antiquaries, a translation of the part relating to England, from which we make an extract for the entertainment of our readers.

"The author," says Walpole in the preface, " seems to have had that laborious and indiscriminate passion for SEEING which is remarked in his countrymen. Fortunately, so memorable a personage as Queen Elizabeth happened to fall under his notice. Her best portraits scarcely exhibit a more lively image."

We arrived at the Royal Palace of Greenwich, reported to have been originally built by Humphry, Duke of Gloucester, and to have received very magnificent additions from Henry the Seventh. It was here Elizabeth, the present queen, was born; and here she generally resides, particularly in Summer, for the delightfulness of its situation. We were admitted by an order Mr. Rogers had procured from the Lord Chamberlain, into the presence-chamber, hung with rich tapestry, and the floor, after the English fashion, strewed with hay, through which the Queen commonly passes in her way to chapel. At the door stood a gentleman * He probably means rushes

dressed in velvet, with a gold chain, whose office was to introduce to the Queen every person of distinction that came to wait on her. It was on a day when there is usually the greatest attendance of nobility. In the same hall were the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, a great number of counsellors of state, officers of state, officers of the crown, and gentlemen, who waited the Queen's coming out; which she did from her own apartment, when it was time to go to prayers, attended in the following manner:First went gentlemen, barons, earls, knights of the garter, all richly dressed, and bare-headed. Next came the chancellor, bearing the seals in a red silk purse, between two; one of which carried the royal sceptre, the other the sword of state in a red scabbard, studded with golden fleurs-de-lis, the point upwards. Next came the QUEEN, in the sixty-fifth year of her age, as we were told; very majestic; her face oblong, fair, but wrinkled; her eyes small, yet black and pleasant; her nose a little hooked; her lips narrow, and her teeth black (a defect the English seem subject to, from their too great use of sugar). She had in her ears two pearls with very rich drops; she wore false hair, and that red; upon her head she had a small crown, reported to be made of some of the gold of the celebrated Luncbourg table. Her neck was uncovered, as all the English ladies have it, till they marry; and she had on a necklace of exceeding fine jewels. Her hands were small, her fingers long, and her stature neither tall nor low her air was stately, her manner of speaking mild and obliging. That day she was dressed in white silk, bordered with pearls of the size of beans, and over it a mantle of black silk, shot with silver threads; her train was very long, the end of it borne by a marchioness: instead of a chain, she had an oblong collar of gold and jewels.

As she went along in all this state and magnificence, she spoke very graciously, first to one, then to another, whether foreign ministers, or those who attended for different reasons, in English, French, and Italian; for, besides being well skilled in Greek and Latin, and the languages I have mentioned, she is mistress of Spanish, Scotch, and Dutch. Whoever speaks to her, it is kneeling: now and then she raises some with her hand. While we were there, W. Slawata, a Bohemian baron, had letters to present to her; and she, after pulling off her glove, gave him her right hand to kiss, sparkling with rings and jewels; a mark of particular favour. Wherever she turned her face, as she was going along, every body fell down on their knees. The ladies of the court followed next to her; very handsome and well-shaped, for the most part dressed in white. She was guarded on each side by the gentlemen-pensioners, fifty in number, with gilt battle-axes. In the ante-chapel next the hall where we were, petitions were presented to her, and she received them most graciously, which occasioned the acclamation of "Long live Queen Elizabeth!" She answered it with, "I thank you, my good people!" In the chapel was excellent music: as soon as it and the service was over, which scarce exceeded half an hour, the Queen returned in the same state and order, and prepared to go to dinner; but while she was still at prayers, we saw the table set out with the following solemnity.

A gentleman entered the room, bearing a rod, and along with him another who had a table cloth, which, after they had both kneeled three times with the utmost veneration, he spread upon the table; and after kneeling again, they both retired. Then came two others, one with the rod again; the other with a salt-cellar, a plate and bread. When they had kneeled, as the others had done, and placed what was brought, upon the table, they too retired with the same ceremonies performed by the first. At last, came an unmarried lady (we were told that she was a Countess), and along with her a married one, bearing a tasting-knife. The former was dressed in white silk; who, when she had prostrated herself three times in the most graceful manner, approached the table, and rubbed the plates with bread and salt, with as much awe as if the Queen had been present. When they had waited there a little while, the yeomen of the guard entered, bare-headed, clothed in scarlet, with a golden rose upon their backs, bringing in at each turn a course of twentyfour dishes, served in plate, most of it gilt. These dishes were received by a gentleman in the same order they were brought, and placed upon the table, while the lady-taster gave to each of the guard a mouthful to eat of the particular dish he had brought, for fear of any poison. During the time that this guard, which consists of the tallest and stoutest men that can be found in all England, being care* It is not known what this was.

fully selected for this service, were bringing dinner, twelve trumpets and two kettle-drums made the hall ring for halfan-hour together. At the end of this ceremonial, a number of unmarried ladies appeared, who, with particular solemnity, lifted the meat off the table, and conveyed it into the Queen's inner and more private chamber, where, after she had chosen for herself, the rest goes to the ladies of the

court.

The Queen dines and sups alone, with very few attend ants; and it is seldom that anybody, foreigner or native, is admitted at that time, and then only at the intercession of somebody in power.

Near this palace is the Queen's Park, stocked with deer. Such parks are common throughout England, belonging to those who are distinguished either for their rank or riches.

Walpole, in his dedication, presumes to speak scornfully of the appearance here made by the Queen, which, he says, "makes one smile." But when we read of the respectful ceremony observed in decking her Majesty's table, though she was not present, and the general bending of the knees before her, we must remember that they were the customs of the times in which she lived. Her father had been treated with the same deference. It is mentioned by Fox, in his Acts and Monuments, that when the Lord Chancellor went to apprehend Queen Catherine Parr, he spoke to the king on his knees. James the First suffered his courtiers to omit it. And again, when disposed to smile at certain symptoms of personal vanity in Elizabeth, we should do well to consider what masculine sense was couched under the weaknesses of our GLORIANA †, who gathered round her the largest and brightest assemblage of great men this country ever boasted; scattered the projects of the haughty Spaniard to the winds; frustrated the "knavish tricks" of the Pope; and commanded the awe of a nation like England.

The name given to her Majesty by Spenser, in his Faerie Queene.

NEW YEAR'S EVE.

FAREWELL, Old Year! thy destined race
Will quickly have a close;

And thou, among thy forefathers,
Wilt sink into repose.

But ere to dark oblivion's shore,

Thy spirit wings its flight,

I fain would take thee by the hand,
And kindly say, Good night!

For though thy lapse hath given birth

To many a stormy hour;

Though sighs and tears have marked the reign
Of pain's subduing power;

Yet hath its scene full oft been deck'd
In sunshine and delight;

A thousand joys my heart hath known,—
But all are past,―Good night!
And though with thee thou bear away
From life's still-cherished store,
Days, weeks, and months, a numerous train,
That can return no more;

Yet will the loss prove gain to those

Who walk in Truth's fair light;
It brings them nearer to their home
And promised rest,-Good night!
We part to meet no more, old Friend,
Then let us part in peace:
Thou speedest to eternity,

Where strife and discord cease;
And I, if future years be mine,

How swift soe'er their flight, Will strive their purpose to fulfil, Then wish them all Good night!

LONDON

C. CROCKER.

JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, WEST STRAND. PUBLISHED IN WEEKLY NUMBERS, PRICE ONE PENNY, AND IN MONTHLY PAR FRICE SIXPENCE, AND

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