ALEXIS ST. MARTIN. IN 1822, Alexis St. Martin, employed by the American Fur Company, was wounded in the side by the discharge of a musket. The contents of the gun blew from his left side integuments and muscles, the size of a man's hand, so as to leave, when the wound had healed, a perforation in his stomach, about two and a half inches in circumference. Hence the cavity of his stomach is exposed to view; its surface, and secretions from it, can be readily examined, and different articles of food can be introduced, and taken out at pleasure, to study the changes which they have undergone. Since the recovery of Martin, he has enjoyed the best health. He has performed the duties of a labourer, has married, and become the father of a family; and Dr. Beaumont, a physician stationed at the place where the accident happened, has retained Martin several years in his service, for the express purpose of examining the functions of an organ, which was so accidentally thrown open for his inspection and study. The results of this laborious inquiry, have been published by Dr. Beaumont, and he has added much important information to animal physiology. He found the inner coat of the stomach to be of a light or pale pink colour, varying in its hues, according as it was full or empty. It had a soft or velvet-like appearance, and was constantly covered with a thin, transparent, viscid mucus, secreted from small oval-shaped glandular bodies, beneath the mucous coat. When aliment or other irritants were applied to the inner coat of the stomach, there were seen, with a magnifying glass, innumerable minute lucid points, and very fine nervous and vascular papillæ, arising from the villous membrane, and protruding through the mucous coat, and from which distilled a pure, limpid, colourless, and slightly viscid fluid. fluid is always distinctly acid, and is the gastric juice which converts the food into chyme. Dr. Beaumont regards, with much probability, the sensation of hunger, as occasioned by a distension or repletion of the gastric vessels, which cannot discharge their contents till the stomach is irritated with food. When food was placed in the gastric juice, taken out of the stomach, the same chemical result was obtained, when it was kept at the temperature of 100° Fahrenheit, which Dr. Beaumont found to be that of the stomach. This artificial digestion, however, occupied a period two or three times longer than when the gastric juice acted upon the same materials in the stomach. This Dr. Beaumont has published the times in which various articles of food are digested. A full meal of various articles of food was digested, in from three to three and a half hours; but when the stomach was diseased, or affected by narcotics, or when the mind was agitated by anger, or other strong emotions, or when the food was taken in large masses, the time of digestion was prolonged, while, on the contrary, it was shortened when the food had been minutely divided and mingled with saliva, and when the temperature of the stomach, and the rest of the body, had been elevated by moderate exercise. Among vegetable substances, rice was the soonest converted into chyme, viz., in one hour; and of all animal substances, broiled venison, which was converted into chyme in one hour and thirty-five minutes; while beef, roasted or broiled, required three hours; broiled veal and fowls four hours; and roasted pork, five and a quarter hours.-Edinburgh Review. Ó. N. WHAT We term the course of nature is the constant administration of Providence.-HERVEY, LIFE PROLONGED BY CIVILIZATION. IF we collect England, Germany, and France, in one group, we find that the average term of mortality, which, in that great and populous region, was formerly one in thirty people annually, is not at present more than one in thirty-eight. This difference reduces the number of deaths throughout these countries, from 1,900,000 to less than 1,200,000 persons; and 700,000 lives, or one in eighty-three annually, owe their preservation to the social ameliorations effected in the three countries of western Europe, whose efforts to obtain this object have been attended with the greatest success. The life of man is thus not only embellished in its course by the advancement of civilization, but is extended by it, and rendered less doubtful. The effects of the amelioration of the social condition, are to restrain and diminish, in proportion to the population, the annual number of births, and in a still greater degree, that of deaths; on the contrary, a great number of births, equalled or even exceeded by that of deaths, is a characteristic sign of a state of barbarism. In the former case, as men in a mass reach the plenitude of their physical and social developement, the population is strong, intelligent, and manly; while it remains in perpetual infancy, whole generations are swept off without being able to profit by the past,-to bring social economy to perfection.-Philosophical Journal. THE WELLINGTON SHIELD. No. XI. THE DUKEDOM OF WELLINGTON CONFERRED. In the preceding papers of this series, we have narrated the principal events in the military life of Lord Wellington, from the year 1803, when he won the battle of Assaye, down to the period when, in 1814, the entry of the allied British, Spanish, and Portuguese army into Toulouse, closed the war in the Peninsula and the South of France; we have now only, for the completion of our task, to speak of the honours which awaited him at the hands of his sovereign and his country, on the termination of so brilliant a career. Of these, the most distinguished was, his elevation to the highest rank in the peerage, to which the Crown can raise a subject. On the 10th of May, a message from the Prince Regent was communicated to both houses of Parliament, announcing that his Royal Highness, having taken into consideration the many signal victories obtained by Lord Wellington, had been pleased to confer upon him the rank and title of a Duke and Marquess of the United Kingdom, and expressing the wish entertained by his Royal Highness, to be enabled to grant such annuity to his Grace and his successors, as should tend to support the high dignity of the title conferred, and be, at the same time, a lasting memorial of his Royal Highness's feelings, and of the gratitude and munificence of the nation. The subject was speedily taken into the consideration of Parliament, in which there appeared to exist but one feeling, —that of an ardent disposition to give full effect to the gracious intentions of the Prince Regent. The services of the Duke were acknowledged with equal readiness by all, however wide the difference of their political opinions; and his exploits were compared with those of a general with whom comparison was indeed glorious-the great Duke of Marlborough. But Marlborough, said the Earl of Liverpool, in the house of Lords, had been opposed to Louis XIV., in highest honours it was in their power to grant—their unanimous thanks and approbation. The glorious result of all his toils and victories, had been to achieve the peace, the security, and the greatness of his country, while, by his example, he had animated the rest of Europe, and enabled her governments to restore their ancient order. The Lord Chancellor then expressed the infinite gratification which he felt in fulfilling the commands of their lordships, by informing the noble duke, that they had unanimously voted their thanks for his eminent and unremitted services, and their congratulations upon his return to this country. The duke briefly acknowledged the honour thus conferred upon him, and observed, that the entire confidence which the government had reposed in him, the ample means which they had intrusted to his disposal, and the cordial assistance which he received from the gallant officers who shared his campaigns, contributed powerfully to those successes which the house had noticed in a manner so gratifying. the decline of his power, when his most eminent | services, both houses of Parliament had bestowed the officers were dead or unemployed, and when Marshal Villars was, perhaps, the only very great general with whom he had to contend. Let their lordships, continued the noble Earl, then, look at the Duke of Wellington, opposed to Buonaparte, in the plenitude of his power, with not only France, but Italy, and the greater part of the Peninsula at his command. Their lordships might remember what was the state of Europe four years before, when Russia, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, nay, the whole Continent almost, was on the side of France; when nothing remained of Europe, except Great Britain, and the space within the lines of Torres Vedras, and the limits of Cadiz. Let them consider the situation of the civilized world at that period, and then look at the advance of the Duke of Wellington from Torres Vedras, in 1810; let them follow his steps to Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, and the brilliant exploits there performed; let them then follow his course in those operations which closed with the battle of Salamanca; let them next trace his steps to Vittoria; see him deliver Spain and Portugal from the oppressor, carry the war into the invader's own territory, and at last, plant the British standard in Bourdeaux. Let them look at all this, and say, whether the renown which was gained, had ever been exceeded or equalled at any former period of our history. These sentiments were responded to by every peer who spoke; and in the house of Commons a similar unanimity prevailed. It was there proposed by the government, that an annuity of 10,000l. should be granted to the Duke, to be at any time commuted for the sum of 300,000l. to be laid out in the purchase of an estate; but at the instance of those who had been the loudest in condemning the policy of continuing the war in the Peninsula, the amount was raised to 400,0007; thus making, together with what had been formerly granted to the Duke of Wellington by the nation, the sum of half a million. It was not till towards the close of the month of June, that the Duke arrived in England; nothing could, however, exceed the rapture with which he was then received. One of his first acts was to take his scat in the house of Lords; and this he performed on the 28th of June. The ceremony was highly interesting, and nothing was omitted that could render it more pleasing or honourable to the great commander. A considerable concourse of persons were assembled below the bar of the house, and an unusual number of peers were present on the occasion. Below the throne were seated the Duchess of Wellington, and the Countess of Mornington, the venerable mother of the noble Duke; several other ladies were present, and many members of the house of Commons. His Grace was introduced with the usual formalities; and as he had not been in England since he was first raised to the peerage, the patents of his creation, as baron, earl, marquess, and duke, were severally read one after the other. The oaths were then administered to him, and having subscribed the parliamentary roll, he took his seat; when the Lord Chancellor rose to address him, for the purpose of conveying the thanks of the house, as voted to him, on the preceding evening, for the twelfth time. In the execution of that duty, Lord Eldon said, he could not refrain from calling the attention of his Grace, and that of the noble lords present, to a circumstance singular in the history of that house ;-that, upon his introduction, he had gone through every dignity of the peerage which it was in the power of the crown to bestow. These dignities had been conferred upon him for eminent and distinguished services; and for the same SO In addition to the pecuniary remuneration liberally and cheerfully voted by Parliament to the Duke of Wellington, the House of Commons resolved to pay him the highest tribute of respect that it was possible for them to bestow; namely, voting him their thanks, and appointing a committee to wait upon him to communicate the same, and to offer him their congratulations on his return to England. The Duke, in reply, signified his desire to express to the House his answer in person; and the following day, July 1st, was appointed for the purpose. At about a quarter before five o'clock, the Speaker being dressed in his official robes, and the House being crowded with members, some of them in naval and military uniforms, and a great number in the courtdresses in which they had attended the Speaker to Carlton-House with their address to the Prince Regent, upon the definitive treaty with France, Lord Castlereagh acquainted the House that the Duke of Wellington, having desired that he might have the honour to wait upon the House, was now in attendance. Upon this it was resolved unanimously, that the Duke of Wellington be now admitted. And a chair being set for his grace on the left hand of the bar, towards the middle of the House, he came in, making his obeisances, the whole House rising upon his entrance within the bar; and the Speaker, having informed him that there was a chair in which he might repose himself, the Duke sat down covered for some time, the serjeants standing on his right hand with the mace grounded. The House then resumed their seats; and his grace, rising uncovered, expressed his thanks for the honour they had done him in deputing a committee of members to congratulate him on his return to this country;-and this after they had animated his exertions by their applause upon every occasion which appeared to merit their approbation; and after they had filled up the measure of their favours by conferring upon him, at the recommendation of the Prince Regent, the noblest gift that any subject had ever received. At the conclusion of his address, the speaker, Mr. Abbot*, who had sate covered during its delivery, then stood up uncovered, and replied to his grace. He spoke of the splendid triumphs which the duke had achieved, and of the feelings which they had excited in the minds of nations, and then continued in these words: "It is not, however, the grandeur of military success which has alone fixed our admiration or * Afterwards Lord Colchester. from a consciousness that his victories had been gained in a good cause, and that the high powers intrusted to him had never been used for purposes of cruelty and oppression. On this point, the observations of Mr. Southey are just and eloquent; and we know not how we can more appropriately close this subject than with the following extract from the conclusion of his History of the Peninsular War. "In Gascony, as well as in Portugal and Spain, the Duke of Wellington's name was blessed by the people. Seldom indeed has it fallen to any conqueror to look back upon his career with such feelings! The marshal's staff, the dukedom, the honours and rewards which his prince and his country so munificently and properly bestowed, were neither the only nor the most valuable recompense of his labours. There was something more precious than these ; more to be desired than the high and enduring fame which he had secured by his military achievements, commanded our applause; it has been that generous and lofty spirit which inspired your troops with unbounded confidence, and taught them to know that the day of battle was always a day of victory; that moral courage and enduring fortitude, which in perilous times, when gloom and doubt had beset ordinary minds, stood, nevertheless, unshaken; and that ascendency of character, which, uniting the energies of jealous and rival nations, enabled you to wield at will the fates and fortunes of mighty empires. For the repeated thanks and grants bestowed upon you by this House, in gratitude for your many and eminent services, you have thought fit this day to offer us your acknowledgments; but this nation well knows that it is still largely your debtor; it owes to you the proud satisfaction, that amidst the constellation of great and illustrious warriors who have recently visited our country, we could present to them a leader of our own, to whom all by common acclamation conceded the pre-emi--the satisfaction of thinking to what end those nence; and when the will of heaven, and the common destinies of our nature, shall have swept away the present generation, you will have left your great name and example as an imperishable monument, exciting others to like deeds of glory, and serving at once to adorn, defend, and perpetuate the existence of this country among the ruling nations of the earth." When the Speaker had finished his address, the Duke of Wellington withdrew, making his obeisances in like manner as upon entering, and the whole House rising whilst his Grace was reconducted by the serjeant from his chair to the door of the House. Such marks of honour did this great general receive from the three branches of the legislature,from each the highest which it could bestow. would be impossible to particularize the various acts by which his countrymen in general marked their gratitude and joy; one of the most memorable was that which we have recorded in this series of papers, -the offering of the Wellington Shield. But besides these he had other rewards;-those arising It achievements had been directed;-that they were for the deliverance of two most injured and grievously oppressed nations;-for the safety, honour, and welfare of his country;-and for the general interests of Europe, and of the civilized world. His campaigus were sanctified by the cause ;-they were sullied by no cruelties, no crimes ;-the chariot-wheels of his triumphs have been followed by no curses;-his laurels are entwined with the amaranths of righteousness, and upon his death-ded he might remember his victories among his good works." Since the commencement of these papers, the world has had to lament the death of the venerable artist, Stothard, who was the author of this splendid work of genius. He had lived long enough, however, to establish for himself a reputation which will not soon perish. LONDON: JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, WEST STRAND. Saturday No 159. UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION, APPOINTED BY THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. CATHEDRAL OF SENLIS IN FRANCE. VOL V. 159 THE CATHEDRAL OF SENLIS. AMONG the many religious edifices that boast the name of Cathedrals, there are few less generally known than that which distinguishes the little town of Senlis, in France. In all probability, one half of our readers never heard of its existence, and will derive their first knowledge of the fact from the pages of this Magazine. It certainly is not a structure remarkable for the beauty of its outward form, or the attractions of its internal architecture; nor is its name linked with any of those pleasing associations which impart so much interest to buildings richer in historic fame. Nevertheless, as our object is to furnish a complete illustration of the ecclesiastical architecture of foreign countries, as well as of our own, it is quite impossible to overlook this modest cathedral, however humble and unpretending its merits; nay, were it even deformed with positive ugliness, still the comprehensive nature of our design would forbid us to pass it over in silence. Senlis is but a little town, standing to the northcast of Paris, at a distance of about thirty miles. According to the ancient division of the French territory, it formed a part of what was called the Isle of France; it is now comprehended within the department of the Oise. It is a very ancient place, having existed in the time of the Gauls; and it still bears about it the marks of its antiquity, in the remnants which may yet be traced, of its old fortifications. The Romans first called it Augustomagus; but it afterwards obtained the name of Silvanectum, probably, as has been suggested, on account of the forests which then surrounded it, and which have not wholly disappeared at the present day. In the modern history of France, it is not entirely destitute of interest. During the contest between Henry the Fourth and the celebrated League, it sided with the monarch, and furnished him with supplies for the prosecution of the siege of Paris. The modern town, if that can be called modern Which has nothing but what is antiquated about it, presents very few attractions. It is badly built, and most of its streets are both narrow and crooked. A French author, who wrote towards the close of the last century, speaks of it in very unprepossessing language; he says, he never saw any place so near a great capital more dull, sad, and silent. Its character is somewhat altered at the present day, though not to such an extent as to give it a very lively appearance; but the inhabitants are animated by the same spirit of industry which so strongly marks some other towns in this portion of France, and carry on several manufactures to a considerable extent. The water in the river which flows close by, is supposed by them to possess a peculiar quality, that renders it better adapted than any other for the washing of wool; "the fact may be doubtful," says Malte-Brun, "but it must be admitted that many persons are employed in that branch of industry." There are also several establishments for bleaching, which is practised on a large scale; formerly, indeed, Senlis had such a reputation for its excellence in this art, that goods used to be sent thither for bleaching, from all parts of France. It has likewise, cottonmanufactories, besides establishments for the prosecution of other branches of industry; and the stone which is found in the neighbouring quarries, furnishes the material for a considerable trade. The number of inhabitants is between four and five thousand. The Cathedral, of course, forms a very prominent object in this little town. Of its origin and early history we have little to say, for scarcely any thing is known concerning them. The French writers themselves, confess and lament this paucity of information; and M. de Jolimont, one of the highest modern authorities on the subject, and the one who has been our chief guide in these notices of the French Churches, candidly tells us, that in spite of his most active researches, his account of this structure savours overmuch of this " complete sterility of documents." The institution of the Church of Senlis, is referred to the third century, and is ascribed to a certain "Saint-Rieul," who visited Gaul with the renowned St. Denis, the well-known patron-saint of France, in order to effect the conversion of the pagan inhabitants. His mission was attended with success; the Sylvanectes became Christians, and he became their bishop. We are to suppose, that under the auspices of this prelate, the first cathedral was erected; but, after wading through the usual mass of miraculous legends, we lose every clue to its real history. After being kept, for a long lapse of ages, in utter darkness as to every thing concerning it, we at last find ourselves on more solid ground, and learn, that at the beginning of the fourteenth century, there existed a cathedral, which soon afterwards met that too common fate of the early ecclesiastical buildings, destruction by lightning. On its ruins was raised the present edifice, though by very slow degrees; indeed, its appearance indicates the lingering nature of its construction, for it exhibits a mixture of the various styles which prevailed through several centuries. Our readers will see, by a glance at the engraving contained in the preceding page, that the exterior of this cathedral has very little that is splendid or highly-finished in its appearance. The character of its architecture is severe; but there is something pleasing in its simplicity, and in the contrast which it offers to its more gorgeous brethren. Some of the French writers are much disposed to find fault with it; they see little in it to admire, and speak of its style as being in the worst taste. The traveller whom we noticed before, as being displeased with the town of Senlis, seems fairly in a passion with its cathedral; he calls it a mean building, and one of the ugliest gothics that he ever met with. tower, he says, is lofty, but wanting in delicacy; The the portals are in the very worst taste;-and the nave is so short as to form scarcely a third of the church;—in short, it is labour and stone thrown away. Others of his nation view things with a different eye. M. de Jolimont is one of them; and he says that if the Cathedral of Senlis -be of less general importance,-if it be less sumptuous in its appearance, and built in a style less uniform and regular than other buildings of its kind,—still it presents much richness in detail, and many things highly curious and interesting in its different parts. The principal front is represented in our view. It is rather narrow, but perfectly regular in every thing excepting the towers; these were necessarily dissimilar, for Senlis was a suffragan bishopric, and was not entitled to that "uniformity of towers," which was confined to the cathedrals of metropolitan sees, to abbey churches, and to those attached to colleges of royal foundation. The portals are, as usual, three in number, and decorated with the customary profusion of statues and bas-reliefs; there are three little rose windows, but, contrary to the usual practice, these are placed at what is called the last stage of the edifice. But the chief feature of the building is the southern of the two towers-which is remarkable for it loftiness, and the elegant lightness of its architecture. It is about 220 feet high, and as it surpasses in elevation all the |