OUR cut this week presents what most of our readers will recognise as an old acquaintance, brought forward through a new medium, that of glyphography. The portico at the entrance of the Eustonsquare station of the London and Bir mingham Railway is an architectural object entitled to high praise. It is a handsome Doric portico, built from designs by Mr Hardwick. The correct and lively representation here given of it will be instantly recognised by every one, and the distinctness with which the more minute parts are made out, deserve especial notice. This, however, it may be right to say, by no means shows all glyphography can accomplish. It only offers evidence of greater things to be effected in the fulness of time, when more elaborate efforts shall have been made to give a just idea of the importance of an art as No. 1186] S yet in its infancy, but which, for the first effects to the world by the same effort time, enables the artist to submit his which brings them before his own eye. From first experiments it would be folly to expect that perfection which experi ence will supply, but from what is already done, much may be expected. This railway was the first of the great lines communicating with London opened to the public. It was commenced in August, 1834, and the twenty-five miles, from Euston square to Boxmoor, were thrown open October 16, 1837. Six years have therefore elapsed since the community began to profit from the wonderful effort which science has made to favour the transit of travellers from one part of the country to another, and consequently we are in some degree capable of judging of the value of the benefit which it offers to society. This, it must be confessed, is not small. As yet nothing is known that for expedition can compare with the railroad, and it may be added, in no way can a [VOL. XLIII. journey of any considerable length be per- ciple but the love of gain, which some comformed with so little exposure to danger panies have manifested, is really disgustof any sort. These are points of great ing. Who can forget that in one memoimportance, and it only remains for those rable scene of railway carnage, it was who are at the head of the great associa- shown that an amiable young female was tions by which they have been established among the killed, on whom an aged moto use their best exertions to make them, ther depended for support, and on appliin every respect, superior to the old roads. cation being made to the directors to But this has not yet been done, nor does sanction some pension for the poor old it appear that it is likely to be attempted, heart-broken sufferer, they replied to the till something shall have been effected to appeal by voting a gratuity of five pounds! beat down that spirit of sordid insolence This burlesque on charity was all that a which is generally, we may say univer- great company, with a patriot at their head, sally, identified with a powerful monopoly. could afford to hopeless sorrow. Had each The gentlemen to whom the manage- member of the direction offered a fivement of these important undertakings are pound note out of his own pocket, it would confided must be aware that, whatever the hardly have deserved the name of charity. ultimate advantage which the public may The cold-blooded meanness thus displayed, derive from them, in the first instance they correctly shadowed forth the consideration have been the cause of ruin, desertion, and they would have for their customers where despair in many parts of the country. If their monopoly should be completely estathese evils were unavoidable, still it must blished. It fairly announced that, when be admitted that they were evils, and no the old roads should be virtually closed, it opportunity should be lost for making it was their fixed determination to make the felt that the good of which they are the public pay through the nose for travelling source is unquestionably great, to com- on the new one. pensate for them. But the directors of some of the railways appear to have been desperately alarmed lest the public should have too good a thing. They did not trouble themselves to consider "how much accommodation can we offer at a certain rate;" their only thought was, "by what process can we extort most from the poorer classes?" One worthy gentleman actually suggested that it might be well to engage a gang of chimney-sweepers to pass up and down in the third-class carriages, in order that those who could ill afford to pay for superior accommodation might make a sacrifice, to escape offensive company and the injury their apparel would receive from coming in contact with such fellow-passengers. This philanthropic capitalist evidently considered that it would be quite proper to make a railway a sweating machine, to force the travelling portion of the public to surrender not what might be necessary to reimburse railway proprietors, but what the latter might be pleased to demand. If they were so refractory as to spare their purses at the cost of some inconvenience, he was ready to apply the torture in order to make them pay more. The society of soot-begrimed vagabonds was therefore first to be imposed, and if they failed to produce the desired effect, left to his merey, can there be no doubt that the cat-o'-nine tails, the thumbscrew, or the brodequin, would have been successively tried, till the guilty third-class passenger gave up his last sixpence, which perhaps he was wretch enough to keep back that he might have the means of appeasing his hunger at the close of his journey. The disposition to laugh at every prin The grasping character of monopoly is seen in almost all of them. We have lately seen the railway opened from Folkestone to London, with a pompous announcement that the traveller would be only six hours on his journey. One gen tleman, however, writes to us, that when he came over, the packet performed its part in two hours and three quarters, but he was detained at the Custom-house, though he had no luggage on which they bestowed one moment's examination, till the open train was gone. He had then to pay five or six shillings more than he had calculated upon, to go by the next train, which had no third class, and after waiting an hour and a half at the station, he was nearly four hours on the road to London. The promises held out to him he complains, both as to time and expense, were falsified. Many correspondents have written with great bitterness on the subject of railroad arrangements, as being wantonly offensive. On the Birmingham line the third class are taken in open carriages for six shillings less than the second-class fare. But the open vehicles are detained, it is stated, purposely and unnecessarily an hour and a half longer on their journey than those which pay the higher price. Now if this is done to save the company expense, it may be excused, but if the only object be to punish poverty, there is, it must be admitted, a determination not to do as well by the public as they might, and this is a subject which ought to be looked at very seriously by the legislature. If, the old roads being withdrawn, unheard-of op pression is to be experienced on the new ones, it is time to inquire whether some novel but stringent regulations cannot be adopted, which shall secure to the humbler portion of the public the means of journeying commodiously on reasonable terms. It has been mentioned in the newspapers that an individual, not approving of the refreshments furnished in a building recently erected at the Roade station on the Birmingham line, wished to cross to a public house close by, but was told by a policeman that if he did so he would take him into custody. The great danger to which life may be exposed by incautiously venturing on the road, justifies the giving of strong powers. If, however, they were not exercised with a view to save a venturesome person from peril, but to compel the passenger to become a customer to any particular concern, the interference was unwarrantable. Cheapness was one of the recommendations of the railways. It was shown by an authorised return that the expense of one hundred and ten miles by the means formerly in use, which had been 1,326,1437., had been reduced to 793,4077. But in several instances the fares on railroads have been so advanced that they exceed what poorer passengers were formerly obliged to pay for the same distances. The profits on the principal lines are such that it is obvious such a cause of complaint ought to be removed. The ease and the rapidity with which we move forward on a railroad are very delightful; the absence of cads and coachmen, and the crew which beset the inns, and touch their hats and expect to be paid for being looked at, is a treat, but the directors of railways must endeavour, with these advantages, to combine economy, and if they were to make their servants under stand that a little civility would not be out of its place, travelling by the iron road would be better than it is. At present the clerks and porters seem to think themselves very great men. The check, when you pay, is almost thrown at your head; and if you hesitate, or venture to ask a question, a fierce look and a sharp reprimand are likely to follow. indicated, and the same moment Brady fired his pistol. The shot entered his brain, and he immediately expired. The band proceeded southwards, fighting a smart action with the military in the vicinity of the Cross Marsh. A division at that time ensued, part of the bushrangers, under Dunne and Bird, making for the then thinly-located neighbourhood of the rivers Ouse and Dee, the residue, with Brady, retracing their steps towards Launceston. The local government, having found that empty proclamations would not effect their capture, now went to work in earnest, offering one hundred guineas, a free pardon, and a free passage to England, for each of the banditti taken by a convict,— money and land if effected by free men. Upon the promulgation of this decree, their career may be said to have closedall parties pressed forward to ensure their destruction. They could trust no one, and in a few weeks the musket and the halter had done their work on those whose primary object in absconding was the hope of being able to seize some ship and quit the colony for ever. Within a week from the dismemberment of the band, private intelligence was conveyed to Lieut. Williams, of the 40th regiment, who immediately marched against Brady with a superior force. Having succeeded in coming upon the brigands, the soldiers gave a rapid fire, which caused their instantaneous flight, not, however, without detaching two from the main body, one of whom was eventually secured. Brady, although severely wounded, escaped, but being hotly pursued, and numerous parties of soldiers, field police, and volunteer's from the penitentiary and chain-gangs-the latter animated with the hopes of libertypressing upon their steps, their fires were descried in the vicinity of the Watery Plains three days thereafter. Being again assailed they again fled, but Brady's previous wound retarded his flight so much, that he fell into the hands of his pursuers. He indulged no vain hope of mercy, but made up his mind with a desperate resolution to meet the worst. In the conflict with Lieut. Williams, he received a ball below the calf of the leg, which caused him to experience the most intolerable pain in his flight. To extract the ball was necessary. It had passed upwards, and Brady cut it out with his clasp knife above the knee. When made a prisoner he was conveyed to Launceston on horseback. His deportment was firm, but unmarked by bravado. Crowds ran from the neighbourhood to see this celebrated chief. He wore no hat, but had a handkerchief knotted round his head, and, notwithstanding the severity of his, wound, rode with firmness and even grace. Having been lodged in the gaol, he and his comrades were shortly afterwards, along with Jefferies and Perry, conveyed to Hobart Town. From the time that the band divided, their energies were destroyed. Dunne, indeed, did keep the Ouse for some short while on the qui vive, but Brady's sun had for ever set. The fiendish plans of Cohen were at work-the sanguinary Murphy, the ferocious Williams, had fallen by his musket or his knife. These two were the most blood-thirsty of all Brady's followers, and it cost him much pains to repress their ferocity. Williams was a mere lad; he had never been a convict, but joined the gang from innate devilishness of disposition, and was repeatedly turned away for cruelty. He had also been flogged more than once by Brady's order, still nothing would induce him to quit, until he received (when asleep) that summons from Cohen's musket which he could no longer disobey. Having lodged Brady and his few surviving associates in Hobart-Town gaol, the fortunes of Dunne's division will claim a brief review. After reaching the banks of the Ouse, they were successful in effecting several robberies. In their career they visited the dwelling of an old sailor, a recently-arrived settler. They bid him be under no apprehension, as it was far from their purpose to molest him. They knew, they said, that he was a striving, industrious fellow-one who treated his men as men should be treated. During their halt, perceiving a cast-metal pot, they declared it to be the very article they wanted, and that they must have it. The settler, however, battled manfully for his pot, protesting it was much more serviceable to him than it could be to them, and that he positively would not part with it. This amused them mightily, and they gave way to loud laughter. "D―n the man, and his pot, too," cried one. "Come along, Dunne, let the fellow keep his pot; we can take a couple from some one else." "Have you got any tobacco ?" said Dunne. "Not a fathom," was the reply. 66 "No-but I chew, when I can get it." Here, then," cried Dunne, throwing him a yard of negrohead, and putting his horse in motion. encountered and worsted. Bird was shot through the head-Dunne and Cody escaped; the others were taken, Mackenney in a rather singular manner. He was leading the horse, of which he had so triumphantly boasted himself master, across a rivulet-the animal, in taking the leap, struck Mackenney's ankle with such violence that the bone was smashed. In this deplorable situation, unable to offer the slightest resistance, he became an easy prey-the steed indirectly verifying the settler's prediction. Various conjectures were afloat respecting Dunne: the general impression was, that he had been badly wounded, and had died in the scrub. A day or two after this dispersion, Cody presented himself at a shepherd's hut on the Dee. He was in the greatest misery cold-exhausted - famished. Giving the remains of plunder to his host (an old acquaintance), he squatted on his hams by the fire whilst breakfast was preparing. The hope of liberty, the assurance of reward-flashed across the shepherd's brain, and he resolved to make the outlaw his prisoner. Not a moment was to be lost: Cody was thawing his benumbed limbs by the exhilarating blaze-his back was towards his host, who, snatching up a heavy and sharp-edged piece of wood, sprung upon his victim, dealing him, on the back of the skull, a terrific blow that laid him senseless on the floor. Taking advantage of his prostrate condition, the shepherd showered his furious strokes upon the defenceless brigand. Leaving him weltering in his blood, he hastened to a neighbouring shepherd for aid. On their return they found the miserable creature partially recovered. He was again mercilessly felled to the earth, bound, and conveyed in a bullock cart across the Ouse. The wife of the settler already mentioned hastened to render the unhappy sufferer such assistance as could be afforded. The spectacle she beheld was hideous-the wretched Cody's head, smashed to a jelly, was hanging out of the cart, every jolt inflicting indescribable agony. His gentle visitor did all she might to ameliorate his position; the cart was filled with straw, and all that humanity could devise was essayed. "Can I do anything more for you, Cody ?" inquired the lady, deeply moved; but Cody was unable to reply. "Oh, he's sulky, and won't answer" said his inhuman guards (not soldiers), who commenced pricking him with their bayonets. 66 'For mercy's sake, forbear!" exclaimed the charitable ministrant. "Sulky! look at the poor creature's head-no wonder he can't speak; that hole is large enough to admit my hand. Will you have some tea, Cody?" With a convulsive shudder, as if life and death disputed mastery, the mangled felon was at length able to give utterance to a hollow "Yes." Tea was accordingly given and greedily swallowed. If Cody reached Hobart Town alive, it was only to expire in the hospital. Prior to their trial, the lieutenant-governor, Colonel Arthur, visited the banditti in gaol, expressing a hope that they were preparing themselves for the world to come. To which Brady responded, "Their thoughts were too much occupied with plans of escape in this, to reflect upon anything else." Several desperate efforts were accordingly made, one of which was nearly crowned with success. To their great indignation Jefferies and Perry had been confined in the same cell with them"If," said Brady to one of the turnkeys"if you wish to find that fellow with his head on in the morning, you will do well to remove him." The hint being taken, Brady voluntarily gave up a knife he had contrived to secrete. At his trial, he, as well as the others, behaved with the most respectful firmness. Being asked his plea upon the first indictment (he was arraigned on many), he replied with the utmost composure, "Guilty, your honour; I shall plead guilty to all, and much more than you can bring against me. It would, therefore, only be wasting your honour's time, and that of the gentlemen of the jury, to proceed." His name being included with others, the trial did proceed, and upon the same question having been put on every fresh count, he always smilingly answered, " Guilty." He received his sentence with the same unshaken fortitude, and, bowing easily and respectfully to the judge and jury, he and his confederates were reconducted to their cell. An individual who desired to see a man of whose daring he had heard so much, applied for permission to visit him. It was granted. He saw the fearless bushranger, who was seated near the gallows on which he was to die, and which is there kept permanently standing, as was formerly the case at Tyburn. He was heavily ironed, and seated with Brady, Bryant, and Mackenney. They seemed to be in earnest conversation, but inclined their heads respectfully at the visitor's approach. Brady's wounded leg was still unhealed, and his comrade, Mackenney, was upon crutches. Pity and regret were the predominant emotions as the surgeon who accompanied the stranger thus broke silence: "Well, Brady, how are you to day? Is your leg any better?" The bushranger gazed at us for a moment; then, with an "Oh," and a jerk of his head in the direction of the gallows, seemed by that significant gesture to reply that in a few days all on earth would be well enough with him. On the 11th May, 1826 (six of his confederates having paid the penalty of their crimes the day previous), he ascended the scaffold, maintaining his constancy unshaken to the last-his demeanour, whilst it was perfectly firm, was devoid of all unseemly levity. Fully impressed with his dreadful position, he evinced a resolution to surmount it. Bryant and Mackenney, as well as Perry and Jefferies, were his partners in doom. The drop fell, and after a few convulsive struggles, the dreaded freebooter, who had struck Tasmania with terror and dismay, hung an inanimate and impotent mass of clay. THE DYING REBEL. Ar a moment like the present, the following deeply-affecting letter, addressed by one of the unhappy sufferers of 1798 to Sir Jonah Barrington, a few hours before he was led out to die a shameful death, will be read with interest. Carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment, the writer, Henry Sheers, a barrister, had believed those with whom he acted were irresistible. Seized by the strong arm of the law, all his gay dreams of triumph and glory vanished, and the outpourings of his despair exhibit such misery that they may even yet claim a tear: "Mr dearest Friend,-The dreadful die is cast. Fly, I beseech you, to the Chancellor, and save a man whose fate will kill his family. Oh! my dearest friend, my whole dependence is on you. Tell the Lord Chancellor I will pray for him for ever-that the Government shall ever find me what they wish. Oh! my family, my wife, my children, my mother-go to them, let them throw themselves at the Chancellor and Lord Shannon's feet. Those papers which were found in my office have ruined me. You know, my dear friend, I had nothing to do with them. You know I never was an advocate for violence or blood. "I have been duped, misled, deceivedbut with all the wishes and intentions to do good. My principles were never for violence-my nature is soft to a fault. My whole happiness is centred in my beloved, my adored family. With them I will go to America, if the Government will allow me; or I will stay here and be the most zealous friend they have. Tell the Lord Chancellor I depend upon the goodness of his nature-that I will atone for what is past by a life regular, temperate, and domestic. Oh! speak to him of my poor wretched family, my distracted wife, and my helpless children. Snatch them from the dreadful horrors which await them, and save the life of your truest |