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we in our day, owe so much of our commercial enterprise the world as civilization, and its 5p and nigh penetration and attainment

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So that our youngster wanted for nothing save perhaps half a dozen little folk to tease and to tire him. Notwithstanding old folk, and not withstanding science, John's home was a thoroughly happy one Piety was From this true until the year 1830, Joa Herschel there of the sincere and quiet kiad and refinement, was engage im catalog ung the stars, and sending fists and love. The house was always kept quiet by day for of thein, with their inca-urements, to the royal and the watchers to sleep; and at night nothing was heard Astronomical Societies But, whilst deeply stadions save the ticking of the clock, now and then the move-in science, he yet made time and effort to educare his ment of the ponderous machine, and the scratching of nation by s li erary labours, up to the point which the good aunt's pen as she recorded, by lamplight, news he desire it should attain. For the E tripedia of the midnight hosts. as it was mutely conveyed to her, he wrote his "Treatise on Sount?' by signs and signals by the great star-gazer. So John lament as outspoken as ever came from Babbage himgrew up, a thoughtful, quiet boy reverencing his pa-self on the decline of science in England. These are rents. regardful of their mysterious yet sublime occu-some of his words: In England, whole branches of pation; drinking deeply yet wisely. of the fountain of continental discovery are unstudied, and indeed almost knowledge; and imbued with an earnest desire of in- unknown. even by name. It is in vain to conceal the creasing that scientific lore which from infancy had melancholy truth We are fast dropping behind. In been imparted to him, as he knelt by his mother's knee, mathematics we have long since drawn the rein, and or stood, awe-stricken, by his father's side. given over a hopeless race. In chemistry, the case is not much better,' &e Proving that he was not only When the proper time came. John was sent to Eton. | alive to the importance of his own particular science, and even in that preparatory school, he fairly entered but that he earnestly desired his countrymeu to engage on scientific studies. From Eton he went to Cam-in all those higher labours of life which dignify, as they bridge, his college being St. John's, where, in the year adorn, humanity. 18.3, he being then in his twenty first year, we find him not only senior wrangler, but also Smith's prizeman. There, in conjunction with Pe cock, he reconstructed Lacroix's treatise on the Differential Calculus. All the while, however, his brain was busy in the great work which had made his father's name known ander's Cabinet Cyclopedia; and three years later another honoured throughout the world.

AT SCHOOL, AND COLLEGE.

In 1816, (when his father was seventy-eight years old,) he began to examine the double stars for himself, revising and confirming his father's work In 1821, in conjunction with James South. he entered upon the labour of cataloguing the double stars; and in January, 1824, two years and eleven months from the time they began, they reported to the Royal Society the position and apparent distances of 380 double and triple stars, obtained by above 10,000 separate measurements For this great work they received the astronomical prize of the French Academy of Sciences; and, two years later. our own Astronomical Society voted the gold medal to the devoted and deserving students. I cannot record this achievement without tendering my own humble measure of admiration and honour

In those days, when so many young men, born with the silver spoon, or golden spur and epaulet, were accustomed to pursue less worthy avocations.—wrapping themselves in wanton pleasure's guise; when practical astronomy was so little known and used that a Danish vessel arriving at Leith could not obtain in Edinburgh the time of day for setting its chronometers, it deserves to be more than noted, that two, at least, of England's affluent sons could overcome the allurements of worldly engrossment, and devote themselves. with pure hearts and earnest minds, to the study of that science to which

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Besides the Treatise on Sound," he published a "Treatise on the Theory of Light," together with two other works of considerable literary and scientific value. In this year also, 1830, his Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy" appeared in idvolume of his. A Treatise on Astronomy," appeared in the same series. Sometime afterwards, he wrote for the Quarterly, his well-known review of Whewell's History and Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences." Many of Herschel's views have indeed been proved to be erroneous, yet the earnest explorer in the fields of science commanded attention and esteem on every hand. At the time when he wrote his Discourse," he was one of the first mathematicians in England. He had made discoveries in optics; he was in the front rank of experimental chemists; he knew all that was then known of electricity and galvanism, and he had confirmed and established his father's discoveries in sideral astronomy. And this, moreover, he was, he was one of the Poets of Science, and his place among them is a very high one. Almost in every page of Herschel's writings, he moves the soul, rouses the emotions, animates the affections, and inspires the imagination. He was one of the finest popularisers of science-or rather. of scientific aims and objects-on record. He gives most beautiful piotures of Nature's doings, because Nature's doings are beautiful in his eyes. Most genial is the spirit of his descriptive writings, because his heart was in what he told. And he leads the commoner sort of men, enchanted, through the fair scenes which his own learning and industry have made peculiarly his own

1 To be Concluded in our nexi.)

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TO THE VIRGINIAN LEAF.

Thou grateful leaf, sonl-soothing friend,
While to my brains thy fumes ascend,
Do thou thy inspiration lend,
That I may sing

What splendid thinkings have been penn'd,
Borne on thy wing.

The noble Raleigh, who first bore

Thy kindly opiate to our shore,
Through thee loved dearly to explore
The realms of thought;

And on thy clouds with freedom soar,
When chains his lot.

Shakspere thy powers would doubtless know
And many a cloud would skyward blow,
Causing his teeming brain to glow

With grand conceit:

Whose "airy nothings" finely show A form complete.

Milton oft felt thy soothing power Redeem the darkness of the hour, Making Imagination shower

A rain of light;

Gifting him with a heavenly dower
Of second sight.

Newton from thee drew thonghtful fire,
When listening to the angelic choir,
Chanting the wonders of their Sire
Hidden from mau;

From lower cause divining higher
In God's great plan.

Then who dare 'gainst thy virtues rail?
May more and more thy power prevail!
Unwise are those who dare assail

Thee, friend in need;

And doubly blest those who inhale
Thee, fragrant weed.

The greatest good may turn to il,
When right and wrong lies with the will
Though use may bless, abuse may kill:
Let manhood ripe.

With prudent moderation, fill

The soothing pipe.

MAC.

SMOKERS! SMOKERS!!

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Sweet Cavendish-Cope's Prairie Flower-Hignett's Smoking Mixture-Harvey and Davy's Best Virginia Returns-and other choice Packet l'obaccos, constantly on hand. Fresh supplies of tine Shag, Twist, &c. regularly received. Cigarettes, from a Farthing to a Penny Each. kept always in stock.

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REVIEWS.

Poor Joe is Bet, or the Ups and Downs of a Miner's Life. By JOE GARBUTT.

JOE GARBUTT (he was christened JOE, not JOSEPH,) is what the poet GRAY would have termed an “unlettered muse;" having only had the benefit of a single quarter's schooling. He belongs to that numerous class whose whole life is a fight for the bare means of existence; and who have to bear hardships and often receive injuries in the great army of industry which, if received on the field of battle, would cause them to be regarded as heroes by their fellow-men. Whatever faults Joe's verses may possess in the eyes of more educated readers, they have the merit of being both understood and popular among those hard-handed toilers in the Rosedale mines, to whom the Fany Queen or Paradise Lost are almost as much sealed books as the 'sms of David in the original Hebrew, or Homer's Itad in Greek.

JOE may be called the laureate of the Rosedale miners. Not long ago, he published a small collection of his pieces, which, with a carte-de-visite of the author given along with it, sold for sixpence a copy; and the Rosedale miners patronised him so well, that he disposed of five hundred copies in one day; - a fact well worthy of the attention of those "respectable" muffs who never buy a book except daybook or ledger; never read anything but their letters and newspaper, and skip all the literary bits in the latter; and who possess not the least love for poetry, or any thing else beyond money-making and mere aniinal enjoyments; but look with supercilious scorn upon men like the miners, who are their equals in mental power, their superiors in physical development, and who are immeasurably more useful in increasing the wealth of nations.

suffered bodily injuries, which would have killed less roThough poor JOE has gone through hardships, and the few who could have survived them, he still possesses bust men, and soured the disposition of the majority of When that national education which we are just beginning a buoyancy of spirit which it is pleasant to conteinplate. to play at, shall have become an earnest reality; when attractive school-rooms, with proper pleasure-grounds, and teachers who are capable of developing the minds of

children, men and women who really feel with the poet THOMSON that it is a

Delightful task to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot, To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast; when such facilities for fostering true greatness are plentifully provided, at the expense of the state, in every place where there are children to be educated; when knowledge, sown broadcast amongst all classes of the community, has had time to ripen its fruits;-then will the rude labourer become polished into one of the sorereign people, the antagonism between labour and capital will give place to harmonious co-operation, and the "village Hampdens" will serve their country in peaceful struggles for further progress; philosophers and poets will spring from their ranks to aid in the elevation of their fellow-creatures; and the highest literature, science, and art, will be properly appreciated by them. In the mean time, let us not scoff at rhymers like Jog GARBUTT,— who, (unable to bring the marshalled hosts of Greece and Troy vividly before us, like "the blind old bard of Schios' rocky isle,"- -or those of Heaven and Hell, like our own blind patriot-poet,—or even to sound the clarion strains of our old ballad-inongers,) yet, with fiddle and pen, affords the miners among whom he toiled when hale, such music and verse as he is able to give thein, and they to appreciate. It is something achieved, to get thein to read at all, however humble the poetry, that which is at least innocent, though certainly not Miltonic!

But it is time that the reader had a taste of his quality. After telling us that he was bet in boyhood, we come to his courting days:

When young I thought of changing life,
And some said, "Yes, Joe, take a wife
As soon as thou can get."

I tried my hand both up and down,
Upon the moors, and down at town,
But I was bet, was bet!

I courted once a bonny lass,

And people said she had some brass,
My mind on her was set;
But disappointment block'd my way,
And people soon began to say,

"Poor Joe! he 's bet, he 's bet!"

Then next I tried a servant girl,

I thought this lass she loved me well ;—
She was my darling pet.-

A man came up and put me by,

She said to me, "Thou need n't try,
Thou's bet! thou's bet!"

Joɛ, however, did not commit suicide; but bore his disappointments manfully,--scorning no honest labour that might procure him bread:

I work'd at coal-pits for some years,

And had to take their taunts and jeers,
So off I went to jet:

A gentleman I thought to be,

But different I soon did seo,

For I was bet, was bet!

And so I came to Rosedale Head,*
Where very oft I'd heard it said,
There money I could get;

I there did well for many a pay,
And then at last I had to say

That I was bet, was bet!

I oft did hear the miners tell,
At ironstone they did so well,

Six shillings a day could get :
I thought it was a shame to see
A strong young man as big as me,

That was bet, that was bet!

I went to see, and time roll'd on,
I ask'd a job, they set me on,
Some ironstone to get;
Into a place they call'd L drift,'
And there I had to work by shift,
Till I was bet, was bet!
And worst of all I have to tell,
A lump of stone on me it fell,
I never shall forget:
And people all around they know,
On crutch and stick I had to go,
For I was bet, was bet!
Yes, nineteen months I spent in pain,
And then to work I went again,
My living for to get;
And there they had me in a fix,
I weigh'd all day for two and six,
For I was bet, was bet!

So I went to the powder store,
Where I think I'll ne'er go more,
For against it I got set;
For young and old my name did know,
They call'd me Powder-monkey Joe,
Then I was bet, was bet!

Poor Joe's injuries, we have been told, by those who know him better than we do, were much more serious than one would be led to conclude from the rather stoical manner in which he describes his nineteen months of suffering. We suppose the total true heroism of humble life will never be known to mortals; but doubtless the recording angel chronicles it with admiration.

As soon as JOE felt himself convalescant, he made another attempt at winning ironstone, but was too weak for such laborious employment:

I had got ironstone before,

And thought that I could get some more,
When about it I got set:

I did intend to smash it down,

To go eight hours and make a crown,
But I was bet, was bet!

For every bat did shake my frame,
I scarce could work I was so lame,
I thought I should be bet;
And then I had to work quite slow,
And miners shouted, "Wire in, Joe,"
When I was bet, was bet!
And some they said it was a shame
To see a poor young man so lame
To such hard work be set :
And some would laugh, make nought but fun,
And shout, and say, "Joe, canst thou run?"
When I was bet, was bet!

• Coal Pits.

I came to work on Baring End,
Where it was hard you may depend,
And very bad to get;

I work'd and sweat there day by day,
And every night I had to say

That I was bet, was bet!

And Jackson said 't would mend enow,
I said it would be bad all through
I'd any money bet;

And so I told him very plain,
In it I ne'er would work again,

For 1 was bet, was bet!

JOE then narrates, at some length, how his wages were stopped, and the trouble he had in getting thein,— being referred from Mr. This to Mr. That, and by him to Mr. Somebody-Else, with an ingenuity worthy of the Circumlocution Office.

When I got up to the Sled Shoe,
I did not know what I should do,
My money I could n't get.
My mother said "Sit up to tea,
But did not she look round at me,
When I said I was bet.

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My mother said "What is up now?" "Well, mother, there is nought for you,

My wage I cannot get.

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She said "But I would let them know :-
Thou's money;-I would go to law;—
if bet, I would be bet!

The old lady should evidently "bring forth menchildren only!" though, we dare say, but for such pluck on the part of the mothers and wives of the workingclasses of this country, the Condition-of-Labour Question would have been in a worse state than at present.

JOE's "mate," who like the fiddler-versifier himself, might have been a disciple of Zeno of Citium, proposed that they should take things steady," for they had "got neither wife nor bairns,"-J piece of prudence which poor Parson Malthus, had he been living, no doubt would have highly commended, if he had still kept his breeches pocket buttoned. Joe, we are glad to see, did not depend on charity, but was willing to turn his hand to any honest labour in his power so that it might bring him

bread :

We had a little job to do,

A wall to build at the Sled Shoe,-
But, Oh! it was so wet;

Next morning all was white with snow,
And wind in hurricanes did blow,

And we were bet, were bet!

I hope things soon will take a turn,
We've had a hardish getting on,
Dark clouds around us set:

I think in life I ne'er did know
A time like this for frost and snow,
I never was so bet.

There's more than me that know quite well,
If only they the truth would tell,

That they've been hardish set,
But do n't want any one to know,
And so they say "How fond is Joe,
To say that he is bet!"

Yes, the Snow is very beautiful as one watches it, (from a cosy fireside,) falling so placidly on house-tops, and trees, and hedge rows; or, walking along some rustic footpath, for exercise, well-clothed and well-fed, halfdreaming that the falling flakes are like down shed from the wings of angels. But let us have "a wall to build, at the Sled Shoe" or elsewhere, for to-morrow's victuals, and it would rob a Snow-Storm, under such circumstances, of much of its poetry. Rosedale is a lovely dale in fine weather, and its inhabitants are a hearty, hospitable people; but after once having to descend the hill to our in during a blinding storm, we have no particular wish even to ramble there in broken weather; and we siucerely pity the poor wretch who has to toil there in the storms of winter. But the glorious hopes of a Better Land when this sublunary life shall have passed away, has nerved the heart of many a toiler; and JOE GARBUTT cherishes the hope of singing, in another world, to others beside Rosedale miners.

For day by day we 're passing on,
Till bye and bye the Poet 's gone,-
His sun for ever set;
And when his body's pass'd away,
Remember how you 've heard him say
That he was bet, was bet!

Oh! when the storms of life are pass'd,
Oh! may I gain that land at last
Where sorrow it is o'er ;
When from all anxious cares I'm free,
I'll sing through all eternity
That I am bet no more.

'Tis Summer once Again. Words by J. R. APPLETON, F. S. A., &c. Music by W. Fox.

ought to become very popular. A sweet song, well wedded to music, both of which

Weardale Forest: an Annual for Christmas and the New Year. No. 1, 1871.

who, located in rather out-of-the-way parts of the country, not only cultivate a love of literature and antiquities for their own enjoyment, but also endeavour to foster the same tastes among their less civilised neighbours. We only see one fault to the work before us. There is just twice as much printed matter given for a shilling as the publisher of a purely local work can afford for the money; and therefore we fear that we will have a bad chance of welcoming this entertaining and useful annual every Yule-tide, as we could heartily have wished to have done.

Honour to men like WILLIAM M. EGGLESTONE,

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With the exception of a lengthy and able article by a writer who signs himself HUNTER LEE, entitled "An Etymological Hunt through the Forest," (the Forest, of course, being that of Weardale,) we believe all the arti cles, prose and verse, fact and fiction, are from the pen of MR. EGGLESTONE himself, who is printer, publisher,

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and editor as well. First, we have a tale entitled "The
Sipton Prophecy," illustrative of the manners and cus-
toms of Weardale. Then follow historical papers on
"The Forest," "Stanhope Park and Westgate Castle,"
and Weardale Schools," a poem ou
Ferns," with a
prose note telling us Where to find them," an affect-
". lost on
ting account of the two poor children who were
the mountains" in October, 1865 ; "An Incident in the
Life of Jack Cownet," the Weardale highman,-whose
real name was John Collingwood: a collection of “ Curi-
ous Epitaphs;" an account of "Churches, and Chapelry
Boundaries," giving the list of incumbents for each; a
local poem.
"When Annie's Awa';" a Glossary given
as "Notes to Siptor. Prophecy:" and some odds and
ends called Forest Leaves,"—all of which are interest-
ing to the student of history, and must be specially so to
the inhabitants of Weardale.

AUTUMN MEMORIES.

Old friends are fading with the leaves,
And dropping one by one;

When Spring puts on her robes again
What loved ones will be gone!

Gone from our homes, but not our hearts-
Their memories will be there,

As bright and fresh as leaves and flowers
That make the Spring so fair.

The Autumn winds and Winter's frost
Will never chill them more;
Life's "mingled yarn" is woven out
For them: their toil is o'er.

Eternal Spring now blooms for them-
No pain nor sorrow there;
We should not wish them here again,
Our mortal griefs to share.

Old friends are fading with the leaves,
And dropping one by one:
When Spring puts on her robes again,
What loved ones will be gone!

ELIZABETH TWEDDELL

EPIGRAM.

Though dungeons dark his body hold,
And slaves his name belie,
The patiot still, in virtue bold,
Can all their hate defy.

PETER PROLETARIUS

We never remember to have looked through a small local publication with greater pleasure than we have done the one before us. MR. EGGLESTONE deserves both profit and praise, for having produced so excellent a work; and the inhabitants of St. John's Chapel are fortunate in having a printer with such tastes in their midst. Let them prove that they appreciate him by a liberal support to his press and bookstore: for neither authors nor chameleous can live on air. The proud prelates of Durhain-those strange successors of the poor fishermen of Galilee, who were more skilled in woodcraft than in the religion of the holy Carpenter of Nazareth -who used to assemble even princes and peers in their trains, to hun the red deer in Weardale Forest, SABBATARIANISM IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.-It is reattended corded that poor infatuated Jew, one Saturday, in the year by servile villeins, who held their lands by the service 1258, fell into a cesspool at Tewkesbury, and would not allow of acting as the bishop's flunkies in the hunt,-bave goue himself to be drawn out on that day, because it was the Jewto their account, and their hunting-grounds, (like those ish Sabbath; whereupon Richard de Clew, then Earl of Glosof the Red Indian and of the Maor,) are now being putter, would not allow him to be drawn out on the following day, (Sunday) because it was the Christian Sabbath. And so to more profitable account; but there is a hunt yet rethe poor Jew perished: but, alas! Fanaticism and Superstimaining for such of us as have hearts for taking the field tion did not perish with him!---PEter Proletarius. -for Ignorance yet prowls the earth; Superstition yet holds the noble mind of man in chains; and Force and Fraud have yet to be chased from the face of the globe; and every well-used printing press is potent for the purpose.

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RICHARD

RUTTER,

26, ALBERT ROAD, MIDDLESBROUGH,

LICENSED TO LET

[Want of space reluctantly compels us to leave over for our next uumber notices of The Yorkshire Maga HORSES, CABS, DOG-CARTS, &c. zine, of Tommy's Annual, and other publications: also several Answers to Correspondents, &c.]

STAELES:-No. 12, LOWER GOSFORD STREET.
HORSES TAKEN IN AT LIVERY.

VERY

SHERWOOD FOREST.-It was a forest of oaks long before the Normans grasped the homesteads of the Saxons, and it was here our Norman kings delighted to hunt in its pleasant glades. At that time it extended from the town of Notting: ham to Whitby in Yorkshire, or rather it and the forest of Whitby lay open to each other; and, at a much later period, it extended far into Derbyshire. What a pleasant reign it must have been! varied with hill and dale, fairy lanes, and murmuring rivulets, and the majestic river Trent rolling along BY its southern side. We need not wonder that such a charming spot should be chosen by Robin Hood and his "Merrie Men. -WILLIAM ANDREWS.

NEAT PAPERHANGINGS
Of the Latest Patterns,

ARE SOLD AT THE LOWEST CASH PRICES

TWEDDELL AND SONS,

BOOKSELLERS AND STATIONERS,
STOKESLEY.

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