Magazine. & EDUCATION UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION APPOINTED BY THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. INNS. No. I. The Rev. Mr. Townsend, who performed his journey in 1786 and 1787, prefixed to it certain " Directions to the Itinerant in Spain," which contain a tolerably Of all the countries of civilized Europe, there is comprehensive list of the things requisite for one scarcely any one so notorious as Spain for the bad- desiring to "travel commodiously in Spain." A ness of the accommodation which it affords to good constitution and two good servants are among travellers. Even its large cities, and the very capital them; the latter should be a Spaniard and a Swiss, itself, are not exempt from this reproach;-they all and one of them should be sufficiently acquainted share it, though, of course, in a somewhat lesser de- with the art of cooking, and also with the "superior gree, with the poorest villages, and the most solitary art," as he terms it, of providing for the journey,— resting-places. It is to this circumstance that we "which implies a perfect knowledge of the country may, in a great measure, attribute the fact that Spain | through which he is to pass, that he may secure a has been comparatively so rarely visited by foreigners; stock of wine, bread, and meat, in places where these the account invariably given by every traveller upon excel, and such a stock as may be sufficient to carry his return, of the hardships which he had experienced him through the districts in which these are not to in his progress, was fully sufficient to deter any but be obtained"-rather a respectable stock of qualifithe most enterprising, from attempting to follow in cations. Moreover, in his baggage, for the transport his steps. It is curious, too, that scarcely any im- of which three strong mules are to be purchased-he provement has taken place throughout the greater should have sheets, a mattress, a blanket, and a portion of the country, for the last 150 years; the quilt, a table-cloth, knives, forks, and spoons, with accounts of recent writers exhibit nearly the same a copper vessel sufficiently capacious to boil his picture as those of travellers of a more remote date. meat," which should be furnished with a cover and a lock; and lastly, each of the servants should have a gun slung by his side. An "English gentleman," as he styles himself,commonly said to be Mr. Bromley, who visited Spain towards the close of the seventeenth century, speaks somewhat pathetically of the sufferings which he endured in his tour. "The miserable poverty in this country," he says " and consequently very il! accommodation on the roads, makes travelling very uneasie. I had the misfortune to experience this, being forced to take up sometimes where neither bread nor lodging were to be had. I remember one night late I came to my inn, both cold and wet, but could neither have bread or wine, nor a bed to lye in, (the house affording only one poor sorry thing for the family,) no oyl for my lamp, no fewel of any kind to burn, nor any provision for our horses." And when he is about to quit, he takes his leave, hoping to meet with better entertainment in Italy, than he had found in Portugal and Spain, "for both their accommodations," he adds, " and the wicked vile temper of the people will soon tire any one, and make him give God thanks that he can say he hath with safety passed through these countries." When Mr. Swinburne travelled through Spain in the years 1775 and 1776, the state of things was scarcely improved. He and his party were obliged to journey with a complete wagon load of baggage, carrying not only their own beds, but even their own provisions-bread, wine, meal, oil, and salt-from one great town to another; for they seldom met with anything in the inns but the bare walls, and perhaps a few eggs, which were always sold at an unconscionable price. If they chanced to find a few unbroken chairs, they used to esteem themselves uncommonly fortunate; yet for this poor accommodation they always paid dearly. Their mode of proceeding is thus described:-"As soon as we arrive at one of these barns, called Ventas, our first care is to set up our beds. The kitchen is generally at one end, the mules stand in the back part, and our apartment is a partition run up against the wall to the street, with a hole or two for light, defended by three or four very useless iron bars, for a pigmy could not squeeze through the window. Next our cook takes his stand at the hearth, to warm our broth, which we carry ready made in a kettle behind our chaise; and if he can procure fuel and elbow-room, tosses up a hash, or some such campaign dish. Sometimes we are lucky enough to have an opportunity of setting our spit, or broiling a chop upon our gridiron; but these are luxuries we are not to expect above once or twice in the course of a week." The picture which recent travellers give us of the inconveniences attendant upon a journey through Spain at the present day, is scarcely more attractive than that drawn by their predecessors in former years. A partial improvement has, indeed, taken place on these lines of road, upon which diligencias, or stage-coaches, similar to the well known French diligences, have of late been established. Between Vittoria and Madrid the traveller may fare pretty well; Mr. Inglis says that he always found a clean bed and something upon the table, of which it was possible to make a tolerable meal. The diligence which runs between Madrid and Bayonne posses along that line of road; and preparations are always made at fixed stations for the refreshment of the passengers. If any one of them does not partake of the dinner or supper which may be provided, he pays two-thirds of its price by way of indemnificacion to the master of the inn. This indemnification is looked upon by some as perfectly fair; without it the traveller by the diligencia could never count upon a meal at any posada, because it would not answer the innkeeper's purpose to incur the expense of preparation upon a road affording so few customers, without the certainty of some remuneration. The great difficulty which the traveller has to contend against in the smaller inns of Spain, is the certainty, or a probability amounting very nearly to certainty, of getting nothing to eat, and only the floor or a chair to sleep upon. If, therefore, he intends to traverse the country to any extent, he must carry his bed with him as Mr. Townsend directs, and keep constantly supplied with provisions. His own implements for eating should also accompany him, for knives and forks are luxuries rarely to be met with in a Spanish venta; the Spaniards who resort to it are accustomed to dispense with forks, and as for knives, every one of them has his own clasp-knife with him. Above all, it is essential to the comfort of the traveller that he should not be over nice and fastidious." If ever these Views of Spain," says Mr. Locker, speaking of his own work, "should tempt any of our countrymen to follow our steps through this interesting country, we would advise them to lay aside the proud English habit of comparing foreign conveniences with the accommodations they leave behind them. The traveller who arrives at an English inn needs but his purse to command all ordinary comforts; but it is not yet so in Spain, After a long and wearisome journey, if he come unprepared to his posada, he may sometimes be wofully disappointed. To the question, What can I have to eat?' a common reply is, 'Whatever you have brought.'" Though, however, provision is seldom made at the Venta for guests, the hostess is ready to cook such articles as the prudent traveller has purchased by the way; and when he departs in the morning, he pays for the ruido de la casa, (the disturbance he has made in the house,) as the principal charge in the reckoning. He is even at liberty to take upon himself the care of preparing his own meal; "and if," says Mr. Inglis, "he possesses the faintest idea of the art of cookery, this will generally be his wisest plan." Spanish cookery is seldom to the taste of a stranger; their peculiar mode of seasoning their food meets with the approval of few but themselves. They are very fond o spices, and will scarcely eat anything without saffron, pimento, or garlic; according to Mr. Swinburne, they delight in wine that has a strong taste of the pitched skin, in which it is the practice to keep it in this country, and in oil that has a rank smell and taste. "Indeed," he says, "the same oil feeds their lamp, swims in their pottage, and dresses their salad; and in inns, the lighted lamp is frequently handed down to the table that each man may take the quantity he chooses." Throughout a large part of Spain, the first two dishes placed upon the supper-table are soup, so called, and boiled eggs; the soup, however, is said to be "not soup," the whole of the liquid being generally absorbed by the bread. The eggs are always boiled as if for a salad; when bruised, however, and eaten with vinegar, and pepper, and bread, this part of the supper is not to be rejected; because, as we are told, "it is more than probable that the stew or fowl which follows, will be found reclining upon a bed of oil and garlic, from which it is impossible to extricate an untainted morsel." Good wine, however, with sometimes delicious grapes and melons, is seldom wanting; and with this the traveller may learn occasionally to console himself. Our engraving represents the interior of the Venta at the small hamlet of Las Casas de Benecasi, which is situated in the kingdom of Valencia, on the road leading from Murviedro into the Principality of Catalonia; it is taken from one of the views given by Mr. Locker, who says that it may serve as a specimen of the low posadas in Spain. The kitchen is the general rendezvous of the whole family; it is also the common thoroughfare of the goats, the pigs, and the poultry, the doors being rarely closed, even at night. Beneath the mouth of a huge chimney appears the hostess in gay attire, fuming before her frying-pan, which successively receives salt-fish for the carriers, omelets and bacon for the better guests, with oil and garlic for all. There she reigns supreme, for all else, whatever be their rank or calling, mingle in perfect equality. The Spaniards are loud talkers, but amidst all the clamour and confusion her voice and authority prevail. The guests cluster round her with their cigarros, and bandy their jests with unceasing mirth. This is their greatest delight, and no people on earth surpass them in low humour. Here at night the carriers repose on their pack-saddles, their mules and carts being stationed in the outer apartment, where commonly stands the well, which generates myriads of musquitoes to infest the lodging-rooms above, and these swarm with vermin of a baser kind. THE NIGHTINGALE. IT is an error to suppose that the Nightingale is a melancholy bird; an error that has arisen from the heathen writers, who have ascribed to it a character and invested it with a name foreign to its nature and habits. The story related by the Roman poet, Ovid, of the fabled fate of Philomela, (who, mourning the loss of her children, was changed into a Nightingale,) though it awakens our pity, ought not to lead us to adopt it. The modern poets, indeed, have aided this imaginative fraud, and their lines teem with allusions to the pensive and melancholy habits of the Nightingale. The little Philomela is highly poetical, but a very glaring breach of Nature's laws. Not to open the controversy (in which even the statesman Fox was a combatant), whether the song of the Nightingale be merry or sorrowful, we cannot adopt either alternative. It is not merry in the sense which usage has given to that word, but it certainly is a song of joy. The outpouring of a gladdened heart, (full of melody and love, for the male bird is the songster,) and expressive of its gallantry and devotion. It certainly is not sorrowful, though it is occasionally interspersed with plaintive notes. There is something novel in its nightly song; a novelty which is heightened by the repose that reigns around, and by our own feelings at that season of rest. We are lingering listeners; for the shades of night rest on our eyelids, and our sense of loneliness imbues our spirits with melancholy: but that loneliness, that repose, and that season, awaken in the Nightingale all its melody, and render it lively and gay. Its song, during fine clear weather, is incessant from eleven at night until two in the morning. It sings also in the day, but not so loud or with such spirit as in the night. We do not deny to the nightingale the faculty of expression, but cannot by any means subscribe to the opinion, that in its song there are expressions of grief: for, unless we suppose it the creature of the most unnatural sensibility, such an opinion is groundless. We must put, not only its nature, but all nature to the rack, to suppose that, within a half minute, expressions of grief and pleasure are uttered alternately with causeless indifference! How then shall we speak of this bird? Not as a phenomenon, but simply, that its physical powers and its constitution are, in the highest degree, adapted for the exercise and practice of song. It is a warbler, designed by Providence to fill the first place in that scale of excellence and order, which is to be traced in every species of animal Another error is, that the Nightingale is a shy bird. The writer has stood within three yards of one in full song. The effect was thrilling! Variety, still varied, flexibility, expression, softness, and power combined? The choicest and most captivating melody! Again, they are easily caught. The trap being very simple, and the poor birds more so. Nightingales will sing in confinement, but their habits and temper are both unsuited to its trammels. In that state they require continued attention; and unless the course of feeding is well understood and practised, they die. They, are beyond all doubt, migratory; but in other respects similar to the Robin, of an ashen colour, and rather larger. In all ages and countries they have been a theme of praise; and poets have made them objects of peculiar admiration and regard, including Milton, Thomson, Byron, and Coleridge; a galaxy, which THAT man alone can be called happy, who is at peace with might raise the envy of heroes, and which kings would his own heart and with his Maker.--SOUTHEY. gladly share. REQUHART. In a sermon preached on the subject, by Dr. H. Stebbing, Archdeacon of Wilts, and published in 1760, we find a full account of the striking dispensaration, the substance of which is recorded above. "A memorial of this extraordinary event," says he, 66 now (1756,) stands written upon a painted board fixed up at the market cross, where the thing happened; and I submit it to the common sense of mankind, whether this and such-like instances, many of which occur in all history, are not a very strong presumptive evidence from fact, for the truth of a directing Providence!" The following remarkable inscription appears on the eastern side of the structure: "The MAYOR and CORPORATION of DEVIZES avail themselves of the stability of this building, to transmit to future times the record of an awful event, which occurred in this market-place, in the year 1753; hoping that such record may serve as a salutary warning against the danger of impiously invoking Divine vengeance, or of calling on the holy name of God to conceal the devices of falsehood and fraud. "On Thursday the 25th of January, 1753, Ruth Pierce, of Potterne, in this county, agreed with three other women to buy a sack of wheat in the market, each paying her due proportion towards the same; one of these women, in collecting the several quotas of money, discovered a deficiency, and demanded of Ruth Pierce the sum which was wanting to make good the amount; Ruth Pierce protested that she had paid her share; and said, She wished she might drop down dead, if she had not. She rashly repeated this awful wish, when, to the consternation and terror of the surrounding multitude, she instantly fell down, and expired, having the money concealed in her hand." To this may be added another case of guilt suddenly overtaken by a signal and sudden infliction. It is told of Archbishop Leighton, that a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning happened one day, as he was going from Glasgow to Dumblane. He was seen when at a great distance by two men of bad character: they had not courage openly to rob him; but wishing to hit upon some method of extorting money from him, one of them said, "I will lie down by the way-side, as if I were dead; and you shall inform the archbishop that I was killed by the lightning, and beg money of him to bury me." When Dr. Leighton arrived at the spot, the wicked wretch told him the fabricated story: the archbishop condoled with the survivor, gave him money, and proceeded on his journey. But when the man returned to his companion, he found him really lifeless! Immediately he began to exclaim aloud, "Oh, sir, he is dead! Oh, sir, he is dead!" On which the archbishop, perceiving the fraud, left the man with this serious reflection:-" It is a dangerous thing to trifle with the judgments of God." We ought not to sit in judgment; but surely the wicked is driven away in his wickedness, sometimes in a very exemplary manner. Nor should such instances as those just quoted, lead us to form uncharitable conclusions. When any great calamity has human appearance, seriously liable to some peculiar happened to a fellow-creature, who was, to all visitation, it ought to make us look closely to ourhow we should have been prepared for the event, and in selves; it ought to induce us to consider seriously what state it would have found us. It is recorded of one of the ablest and best of men of the age in which demned by the laws of his country to die, he used he lived, that when he heard of a criminal conoften to say, "Who can tell whether this man is not better than I? or if I am better, it is not to be ascribed to myself, but to the goodness of God." He thought, himself had been blessed, and the various checks and no doubt, of the religious advantages with which he warnings he had met with, to which the other perhaps guilt, and seeing it in its own dark colours, he comhad been a stranger; and thus, though abhorring the which could fairly be made, consistently with justice passionated the offender, and made every allowance and truth. THE ADVENTURER ON THE SEA OF LIFE. The gales Of pleasure haply waft him, and he bounds If Passion hold the helm, and Pleasure fill GREAT NUMBERS. No. III. NUMBERS DESCRIPTIVE OF MOTION. WHEN bodies are described as being in motion, or in The motions of bodies are described as being slow, or rapid, in proportion as the time occupied by them in passing through a certain space is greater or less; bodies are also said to move slowly or rapidly, with relation to their general habits and ordinary rates of progression. In the common affairs of life we know but very little of rapid movements, excepting as we observe them in other bodies, and are thus enabled to assure ourselves of the facts. For instance: we have no notion of a man, by his own efforts, moving at the rate of 50 miles an hour. A celebrated race-horse is stated, however, to have cleared on one occasion a mile in a minute, (60 miles per hour;) but that is a rate which could not, of course, be long maintained. The most rapid mode of transit, applicable to the ordinary purposes of life, is that of which we have in modern times availed ourselves, namely, by steam-engines on a rail-road. These move at a rate averaging from 20 to 25 miles an hour. On some occasions they are said to have moved at the rate of 50 miles an hour, without any danger to the carriage, or inconvenience to the passengers. Locomotion implies the power of moving from one place to another. It is this which distinguishes animals from plants. The term is also applied to machines, whose propelling force is included within themselves; as locomotive engines on a rail, or common, road. Among animated beings, connected with our globe, birds are endowed in an eminent degree with the power of locomotion. In this respect they seem to surpass all other animals; not only in reference to the rapidity of their movements, but also in continuing them for a long time without taking food or rest. It is well ascertained that land birds cross vast tracts of ocean; flying at a rate equal to 50 or 60 miles an hour, and keeping on their course both by day and night. The Blue Birds of America, in their periodical migrations, are frequently seen in situations where a distance equal to 600 miles interposes between them and the nearest point of land from which they had taken their flight. Few birds pass over so great an extent of surface in the same time, as our cheerful summer visiters, the Swallows; who fly in their usual way at the rate of a mile in a minute, and are thus engaged, without apparent fatigue, during 10 or 12 hours every day. There is one little bird, however, the Swift, which appears to excel all others in the rapidity of its movements. An eminent naturalist, who has assiduously studied the habits of this bird, estimates its motions as being equal to 250 miles an hour. It eats, drinks, and collects materials for its nest on the wing; living in the air more than any other bird, and performing all its functions there, excepting those of sleep and incubation. Turn we now from these allusions to terrestrial movements, to those which relate to the heavenly bodies. The earth, as well as each of the planets with which it is associated, revolves round the sun with a velocity exactly proportioned to its relative bulk and its distance from that resplendent body. These motions of the planets are not uniform; on the contrary, they are constantly varying throughout the respective routes assigned to them. But notwithstanding these apparent irregularities, each planet performs its entire circuit with undeviating punctuality, a circumstance sufficient of itself, were it the only one with which we were acquainted in relation to the planetary system, deeply to affect the mind with the PERFECTION of His operations, "who is wonderful in counsel and excellent in working." The precision with which the earth performs its daily and yearly revolutions, supplies us with the only infallibly correct means of measuring time. In by-gone days time was measured in a very rough way, as by the hour-glass and the clepsydra*; the former, a coarse and imperfect contrivance for counting out equal portions of time; the latter, an instrument susceptible of considerable exactness, measuring time by the flowing of water from one vessel to another, but, like the hour-glass, exceedAingly inconvenient, from the constant attention it required. Clocks and watches are almost the only instruments now employed for ascertaining the lapse of time. The perfection to which they have attained entitles them to our confidence not only for ordinary purposes, but also in those branches of astronomical science in which greater accuracy is indispensably necessary. That beautiful machine termed by way of distinction a chronometert, if it be at all deserving the name, will not vary in its rate of going a single Velocity is a term usually employed to denote rapid motion. It is derived from a Latin word which signifies swiftness. Thus we speak of the velocity of wind-the velocity of a planet-or the velocity of light. But velocity indicates only in general terms the rapid motions of bodies, without determining either the rate or conditions of their progress. body moving at the rate of 50 or 100 miles an hour, is said to move with velocity: the same term is equally applicable to another body whose rate of progression might be 1000 or 10,000 miles in a minute. Velocity is absolute or it is relative; absolute when it relates to a body that moves over a certain space in a certain time, relative when there is a reference to another moving body. Velocity is also uniform or it is unequal; uniform when a body moves over equal, distances in equal times, unequal when its motion is either retarded or accelerated, • See Saturday Magazine, Vol. VI., p. 188. |
