nor chaplain within two hundred miles. The latter could be dispensed with, as the commanding officer of an outpost is like the captain of a ship, and can unite couples as firmly as the Gretna blacksmith or the Archbishop of Canterbury; but there was no getting over the want of the former. Under these trying circumstances, most corps would have taken to quarrelling amongst themselves, at which, by the way, the ladies are generally the first to begin, and the last to leave off; but the Ugly Mugs, although very fond of their grumble, disliked fighting with any one except John Company's natural enemies. Some took to horticulture, and constructed gardens which cost a great deal, and produced very little; others displayed their architectural tastes by erecting primitive mansions of wattle and dab-that is, bamboos and mud, roofed with grass, the whole being finished without a single nail or bit of iron being used in it. My chum, whose name was Caldwell, and I, took to studying the black classics, Persian and Hindustani, vigorously, eschewing tiffin-parties, sporting excursions, and everything else that threatened to interfere with our obtaining the goal of our wishes-namely, attaching that magic P. to our names in the Army List, which signifies passed interpreter's examination; but, bearing in mind nec semper arcum tendit Apollo, we relieved our literary labours with various intellectual amusements, such as slaying squirrels and lizards with the pellet-bow, educating our dogs and monkeys, destroying wasps' nests by squibs attached to the end of a bamboo, and hunting mungooses. I leave it to philologists to decide on the correct plural of that word; I never could. Our zeal for study lasted all through the hot weather and rains, but, with the cold weather, a change came o'er the spirit of our amusements-squirrel and mungooses revelled in conscious security, the wasp had as peaceful a house as his own bad temper would permit, and our monkey's education was neglected like our own; our time was divided between shooting and fishing excursions, rifle-matches and pigeon-shooting, besides which we taught the sepoys cricket, and played officers and men of right wing against those of left wing. This afforded capital sport, and, unlike most other amusements, cost little-a small subscription from each defrayed the expense of bats, balls, levelling the ground, &c. I was requested to receive and collect this, which I did on pay-day, the only time when cash-transactions take place. Being late in the evening when I received it, I placed the amount, about sixty rupees, in my writingdesk, which always remained open on my table; and as I believed my servants to be honest, and thought no one saw me put it there, I considered it safe enough for the present. On looking for it next morning, the cash was gone, and along with it a few trinkets and all the papers in the desk, some of which were of great consequence to me. It was quite evident that a servant or some one well acquainted with the house had taken it, as an ordinary thief would have taken desk and all without waiting to abstract its contents; besides which, he would doubtless have left other traces of his visit, as a pair of valuable pistols and a silver match-box lying on the same table would have excited his cupidity. My suspicions lit upon a cock-eyed bearer of Caldwell's, to whom I had a strong objection. He certainly was a most sinister-looking individual, and, if not a rogue, his countenance lay open to an action for defamation of character. Caldwell, on the other hand, felt quite sure that my dhobie was the thief, as all the servants declared he was the only person who had entered the room that evening, when he brought in the clean clothes. I don't like speaking in an unknown tongue, but He that word dhobie is an indubitable and unmitigated staggerer; it means a male washerwoman,' and I know of no word in the English language which expresses that. We were both so positive that, for the first time in our life, we had an angry discussion about it. At length we decided on calling our servants together-about twenty in all-and telling them we were certain the thief was one of themselves, and that we would accordingly deduct the entire amount stolen proportionably from their wages. They were at once assembled in the verandah, and I made them a short speech, announcing our determination. This was touching them on the tenderest point, and all were in the midst of loud protestations of their innocence, when in walked Ajudiah. He was a small spare man, but being a high-caste Brahman, and having held the office of regimental pundit for a quarter of a century, he was greatly respected by the men. had the reputation of being very learned, and had scraped together a large sum of money, as, in addition to his regimental salary, he levied large contributions from the sepoys in his priestly capacity, and gave instructions in Hindee and Sanscrit. Caldwell and I had been pupils of his, and he now came ostensibly to make salam, but really to remind us that we owed him a small balance. On learning the state of affairs, he said: 'Defender of the poor! protector of the oppressed! it is easy to pronounce judgment, but between judgment and justice a wide difference exists. It cannot be concealed from the brilliant light of your penetrating mind, that if you act as you propose, all your servants will suffer equally with the guilty one. I have no doubt, if such be your pleasure, that, with the aid of my own skill and your good-fortune, I can discover the individual who has been faithless to his salt.' I have always had a most profound contempt for the Brahmans and their transparent humbug; but thinking that fear of detection might induce the culprit to confess, I gravely assented, and said I should feel much obliged by his coming next morning soon after sunrise, to make his investigation. I had not the slightest expectation that it would be successful, but I thought it might be some amusement, and at mess that evening I mentioned it to my brother-officers, and invited them to come and see the fun. We were hardly seated at coffee the next morning when Ajudiah made his appearance, and asked permission to commence his experiments. This being graciously accorded, he began by seating all the servants on a chabootra or raised platform of masonry, in front of the bungalow. He then seated himself in the middle, with a brass dish containing undressed rice at one side, and a pair of small scales and weights at the other. After mumbling a few prayers and stretching out his hands several times over the rice with the palms open and the knuckles uppermost, like a person warming his hands at a fire, he commenced operations by doling out to each servant a rupee's weight of the dry rice. He used a peculiar kind of rupee (the shahnimalee) for this purpose. As each man's portion was weighed out, it was placed on a piece of plantain leaf, about six inches square, and deposited in his lap by a young Brahman, who was Ajudiah's chaila or disciple. When all had received their quantum, he stood up, and stretching out his hands to the four quarters of heaven, as if invoking the judgment of the Deity, desired them to commence, whereupon all hands took their portion of rice in their mouths, and began chewing away vigorously. While this was going on, the Brahman took up his rosary, made of the beautiful brown berries of the Melia Azedorachta, and appeared quite absorbed in prayer and meditation, though I have no doubt the cunning old rogue kept a sharp look-out all the time. After this lasted a couple of minutes, he gave the signal to cease, and all immediately returned their portion of rice to their leaf, with a profusion of those disgusting and unearthly sounds which only a native of India can produce. He then went round and inspected the contents of each leaf, a most uninviting spectacle, I must confess, for in all, the rice was thoroughly masticated and saturated with saliva. On my asking which was the guilty one, he replied: Mighty sir, under your favour, all these men are innocent.' I said: 'I feel sure some of the servants is the thief, and they are not all present?' No one replied; and on looking again I observed that my khidmutgar was absent. I did not in the least suspect him, as I considered him a very respectable man; he came to me with a very high character from his former master, and during the two years he had been in my service had fully maintained it. However, as I thought that in justice none should be exempted, I desired him to be summoned. He came, after a little delay, and excused his absence by saying he had been busy in the cook-house preparing coffee. I noticed that the man's manner was different from his usual composed and almost dignified way of speaking, but thought it might arise from his repugnance as a Mussulman to have intercourse with a Brahman. The man sat down amongst the other servants, and took his prescribed portion of rice without further remark. Feeling sure of the result, I paid no further attention to their proceedings, until Caldwell exclaimed: 'I say, P, your old kit will sprain his teeth and dislocate his upper jaw if he goes on much longer like that.' I then observed that the khidmutgar was making frantic efforts to chew, his entire head and body moving with the exertion; the pundit standing near and encouraging him with such words as: Use your strength, my brother; why should the innocent fear God's judgment.' This went on for a few minutes, when the khidmutgar was desired to return the rice into his leaf. He did so, and it appeared as dry as when it went into his mouth; the grains seemed slightly crushed, but not broken, nor was there a particle of saliva adhering to them. The pundit then said: This man's guilt is manifest; he dare not deny what all the gods declare so evidently.' The khidmutgar's countenance certainly exhibited all the marks of guilt and confusion. A native has one advantage, that if he blushes, it cannot be seen, and de non existentibus et non apparentibus eadem est ratio,' but though, when under the influence of fear or rage, he does not exactly grow pale, his face assumes somewhat of the hue of an unripe lemon. Such was the case in the present instance. He stood before me with his hands closed in the attitude of prayer, unable to look in my face, and trembling in every limb. I then told him I felt sure he was the thief, and discharged him on the spot, with forfeiture of all wages due. I sent for the choudry or head-man of the bazaar, and had his hut and boxes examined, but nothing was found; we searched his person with no better success; and he was resuming his turban with a triumphant air, when I perceived a suspiciouslooking lump on the pendent end of it. The knot was opened, and disclosed a small bit of paper about four inches square, which proved to be a hoondee or letter of credit for the exact sum I had lost, drawn by a shroff or native banker, and dated the previous day, being the one after the robbery. This was proof not to be withstood, and they were marching him off to jail, when he asked to speak to me in private. I took him a little apart, when he said, if I promised not to send him to the magistrate, he would restore the cash. This I promised; when he confessed that he was in his bottle khana, or pantry, when he saw me put the money into my desk, and that while I was at mess the devil prompted him to steal it. The other things he concealed in a lot of fowls' feathers behind the cook-house, where we found them. I will now leave it to physiologists to decide how fear, or the consciousness of guilt, acting on the salivary glands, can make them refuse to perform their usual office. I never saw the experiment repeated, nor did I ever hear of its being performed before a European, although I understand the native punchayets (courts of arbitration) frequently make use of it. What made it more extraordinary in the present instance was, that the convicted person was a Mohammedan, and therefore unlikely to be influenced by the superstitious fear with which a Hindoo regards a Brahman. Of course all the servants attributed it to the efficacy of the ceremonies performed by so holy a man, and we formed various conjectures on the subject. The surgeon gave us a most scientific elucidation, which left us no wiser than before; and Lieutenant Fast assured us, that whenever he dissipated at all he felt a dryness in his mouth the following morning; that probably it would be much worse if he stole anything, but could not tell till he tried: and as I never heard of his essaying the experiment, I cannot tell my readers the result. THE LIGHT QUESTION. OUR age may be characterised as one of great developments; it may also be said to be one of great revolutions-in other terms, developments succeed each other so rapidly, that each revolutionises the preceding. Reflection on this subject might be followed into many details: let me confine myself to one only, in the present paper, and speak of what has been done, and is yet to do, in that department of industry and economics which is connected with the lighting of our houses, streets, warehouses, and shops in this northern latitude. When I was a boy, all this was done by the combustion of animal and vegetable oils in one shape or another. Miserable as was the lighting of the streets, it must still have consumed a vast quantity of oil; and, considering that oil still bears a high price, after its complete ejection from use on the grand scale, it seems quite inconceivable how we could have had it supplied in sufficient quantity for our present purpose, had not this application of gas been discovered. Even now, with our countless millions of gas-burners in the streets and shops, and the everincreasing use of the same illuminator in private dwellings, the price of candles goes on rising; and if we could but estimate how many tons of oil and tallow are nightly represented by our total gas-consumption, we should probably feel overwhelmed by the question, What should we have done without gas? It is true that turnips for cattle-feeding are now grown, where rape, for the sake of its oil, might in old times have found a preference; but the tendency of this change must be to increase the supply of meat, and also that of animal oil in another form. A very high price for oil would no doubt stimulate its production; but the discovery of a cheap and inexhaustible mineral substitute has tended to the growth of corn and cattle-feeding crops on the surface of the soil, instead of oil-bearing ones, and thus indirectly conferred vast benefits upon the community. material will be wrought out. In a few years, this will admit of approximate calculation; at present, it would be idle to offer even a conjecture on the subject. There is this consolation attendant on the cutting acres are practically useless, except in affording a small supply of fuel, rendered every day less important by the railway facilities for the transport of coal. When cut away, the land will be recovered; and although, in many instances, the bog is underlaid by gravel only, yet generally the mixture of this with some residuum of the peaty matter will form a useful soil, while, in other places, clays and loams of various quality will be brought to light. Thus a great national benefit will be secured in return for the loss of the candle-supply, whenever the day comes that the bogs shall be literally burned out. As paraffine seems destined thus to take rank alongside of gas and palm-oil, it may be worth while to dwell for a moment on an examination of its nature and properties. One reason for the high price of oils, in spite of the competition of gas, is, no doubt, the extensive use of that material in lubricating our machinery; and here I am reminded of another interesting development. Some years ago, the substance familiar to us as palm-out of the Irish bogs: at present, these three million oil was commercially unknown; it is now imported in amazing quantity, and is the general lubricator employed for the axles of our railway-carriages. The consumption of it in this way must be enormous; and it is hardly going too far to say, that, had it not been discovered in time, a very serious difficulty would have arisen in reference to railway locomotion. I verily believe that every particle of fat now converted into soap and candles for the use of the poor and trading classes, would have been required for the purposes of the railway, and those absolute necessaries of life been unprocurable at any price within the limits of ordinary means. Not only, then, has this wonderful and most providential supply of oleaginous matter conferred immense benefits on the countries from which we derive it-being to them a 'development' of the utmost importance-but it has also done for us, in the way of lubrication and soap-boiling, what gas has done in the lighting department; and while the latter has saved us from darkness, the former has prevented our being driven to the expedient I once knew a foreigner adopt in travelling-that is, wearing black linen shirts instead of white ones-and has protected us from coming to a 'dead-lock' upon the iron road. But now we come to revolutions. No sooner is something, newly discovered and painfully elaborated, fairly established as a 'development,' than something else is brought forward which threatens its supremacy. Every one has heard of the Irish bogs. They differ in no essential quality from the 'mosses' of England and Scotland, being a vegetable mould of greater or less density, according to the drainage-fall -composed chiefly of gigantic moss in a state of compression and partial decomposition. In Ireland, there are vast tracts of this peat-moss or 'bog,' and it is now some years since certain new facts respecting it were brought to light under the all-scrutinising eye of modern chemistry. That it could be made to furnish a sort of grease capable of making candles, &c., was proved, and the O'Gorman Mahon produced in parliament some specimens of the manufacture. At that time, however, the matter could only be regarded as a scientific fact of much interest, but of no practical utility, on account of the great expense of production. Perhaps, however, it may have reached the ears of the honourable gentleman that some Saxon had said that Irish members were 'not fit to hold a candle' to their more accomplished co-senators of the sister-land, and he merely wished to shew in a practical manner that this was not the case. Be this as it may, we learn with great satisfaction that by the recent substitution of sulphuric acid, a cheap and abundant material, for ether-a rare and dear one-this oleaginous matter, technically called paraffine, may be procured at a very much cheaper rate; so much so, that there is now every prospect of this curious substance being brought into general use as a means of artificial light, with, no doubt, a general benefit to the community. Assuming, then, that we may look forward with confidence to this new development, and that it will revolutionise the present régime of extravagant prices, the question arises: What is the extent of the resource thus opened up? The existing 'surveys' enable us to answer this question. The bogs of Ireland cover an area of nearly three million acres. The average depth is somewhere about twenty feet; so that while many smaller mosses of only a few miles' circumference will, no doubt, rapidly disappear, it will take a long time before so vast a mass of That wonderful substance, carbon, which can exist in so many different forms, visible and invisible, and which forms a large portion of all organised matter, must be the basis of paraffine, as it is of the vegetable substances from which that matter is extracted. Everything of vegetable origin which is inflammable owes that quality to carbon, in whatever way the combustion may be called into play. Carbon has great affinity for other substances, mineral and vegetable, and its recovery from combination with them, and its reproduction in the form desired by the operator, is the great object of this as of so many other processes of chemistry. Thus the carbonaceous matter contained in the peat may be easily dissipated by heat, and made to pass off in the form of smoke or flame. It is by submitting large quantities of it to distillation, and condensing the smoke into a sort of tarry substance, that the object in view is attained in the case before us. This tar is treated with sulphuric acid, being, as we are informed, boiled for half an hour with 3 per cent. of the acid. It thus becomes decomposed, and the paraffine and oil remain on the top, while the impurities fall to the bottom of the vessel. These, again, are separated by distillation; the oil, I presume, being the more volatile of the two, is carried over, and the paraffine remains in brown crystalline flakes, already capable of being made into candles, but emitting a smell so disagreeable that it has to undergo a further process of bleaching and deodorisation. This process is gone through by the aid of powerful hydraulic presses, steam-baths, and the action of chloro-chromic acid. After this, the desired product comes forth clean and odourless, and capable of making drawing-room lights equal to those of the finest wax. It might perhaps be suggested that a cheaper sort of candle, suitable to the poor man's cottage, might be made from the paraffine in its less purified state, and with the same amount of profit to the company. At all events, there is nothing unwholesome, but much the contrary, in the smell of tar in combustion, and it would not offend the nasal sensibilities of the peasantry, to whom the cheap light would be a real blessing. In any case, the supply of superior candles will necessarily ease the pressure on the market for the material which is now so extensively converted into stearine for that purpose. Thus, reflectively, the poorer customer will, it is to be hoped, become a gainer; and it is comfortable to think that this has been the tendency of all modern improvements and developments. Independently of the light question, which is our main object, the peat is capable of conversion into other useful things besides paraffine. Thus, we are told, a black pigment of superior quality is one of its constituents; and the gaseous matters, as well as the oil, separated in the distillation, are reserved for separate and useful purposes. Another very interesting development in alliance with the present subject demands a brief notice before I conclude. Some years ago, a spring of mineral oil was discovered in Derbyshire by Mr James Young of Manchester. This oil was applied with advantage as a lubricator in the factories there; but the supply ceased just as the value of the substance was becoming known. This put Mr Young upon the 'daring quest' of an artificial oil which should answer the same purposes, and his success is considered as one of the greatest discoveries of the age. It appears that this oil is the product of the distillation of coal at a low temperature. It is, in fact, gas in another form, and realises the apparently paradoxical idea of Baron Liebig, who put forward some years ago, as an object to be greatly desired, that coal-gas could be produced in a tangible form, and burnt without smell or other inconvenience in a candlestick or lamp! Ordinary gas emits so much sulphur in combustion, that it cannot safely be employed as a light in closed rooms, however well ventilated: this discovery of a paraffine oil, procurable at an easy rate from coal, must be hailed as one of the greatest importance; and in connection with the subject of light from decomposed peat, must be looked upon as likely to complete the revolution of our entire system, greatly to the promotion of comfort and economy. This new substance is called 'patent paraffine oil;' and we are informed that one gallon of it, at a cost of 3s. 8d., will yield as much light as twenty-two pounds of the best sperm-candles. It differs also, in a very important particular, from camphine' and various other oils, in being inexplosive. If these facts did not rest upon most respectable authority, I should scarcely feel warranted in helping to give them publicity; but as they are endorsed by men of mark in the scientific world, there can be little, if any, doubt that at least the greater part of what is promised will be realised; and even after some deductions, enough will remain to justify our most sanguine anticipations of a new era in respect of light and lubrication. NOTHING TO WEAR.* WE count our Comic Prose Writers in these days by the score, like oysters; but of really humorous Versifiers there is not so much as one among us. Mr Browning, indeed, in his famous burial of that too erudite volume in the hollow rotten tree, has exhibited a prodigious and unexpected power of Fun; but one comic poem does not make a comic poet, any more than one swallow a summer. Our modern Hood, it seems, is to be looked for-in the words of one of those popular songs which we are obliged to consider jocular in default of anything better-'on the other side of the water;' and his name and address, as we understand, is William Allen Butler of New York. This gentleman, although labouring under the truly transatlantic delusion that pattern rhymes harmoniously with satin, is by no means a contemptible poet, and a very genuine humorist indeed. His satire is rollicking and natural, and he is not ashamed to be pathetic when his subject seems to demand a line from the heart. Miss Flora MacFlimsey, of Madison Square-who is a type of the fashionable female world at present gone stark mad upon the subject of over-dressing— has been, the bard affirms, no less than three journeys to Paris for the sole and express purpose of shopping. Her friend, Mrs Harris, and herself, have spent Six consecutive weeks without stopping In one continuous round of shopping; Shopping alone, and shopping together, In all hours of the day, and in all sorts of weather; For all manner of things that a woman can put On the crown of her head, or the sole of her foot, Or wrap round her shoulders, or fit round her waist, Or that can be sewed on, or pinned on, or laced, Or tied on with a string, or stitched on with a bow, In front or behind, above or below: For bonnets, mantillas, capes, collars, and shawls; Dresses for breakfasts, and dinners, and balls; Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in; Dresses to dance in, and flirt in, and talk in; Dresses in which to do nothing at all; Dresses for winter, spring, summer, and fall; All of them different in colour and pattern, Silk, muslin, and lace, crape, velvet, and satin, Brocade and broadcloth, and other material, Quite as expensive, and much more ethereal; In short, for all things that could ever be thought of, Or milliner, modiste, or tradesman be bought of, From ten-thousand-franc robes to twenty-sous frills; In all quarters of Paris and to every store, While MacFlimsey in vain stormed, scolded, and swore, They footed the streets, and he footed the bills. And yet though scarce three months have passed since the day This merchandise went in twelve carts up Broadway, This same Miss MacFlimsey of Madison Square, The last time we met was in utter despair, Because she had nothing whatever to wear. Nothing to wear! Now, as this is a true ditty, I do not assert-this, you know, is between usThat she's in a state of absolute nudity, Like Power's Greek slave or the Medici Venus; But I do mean to say that I've heard her declare, When at the same moment she had on a dress Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent less, And jewell'ry worth ten times more, I should guess, That she had not a thing in the wide world to wear! We are sure that these noble lines of Mr W. A. Butler will find an echo in the bosom of every man who is a father or a husband. We ourselves, who have been married long enough to know better than to make remonstrance upon any subject, did leave this little volume by accident upon our dressing-table carefully wrapped up as though it were something that was private and not to be seen-with the very best results, we are bound to confess, to the person for whose perusal it was thus cunningly devised. But the wife of our bosom is reasonable, and even manageable with tact, and a very different young woman, we flatter ourselves-barring the crinolinefrom Miss Flora MacFlimsey, who bestows on the poet, after twenty or thirty rejections,' those 'fossil remains which she called her affections,' And that rather decayed, but well-known work of art, Which Miss Flora persisted in styling her heart.' So we were engaged. Our troth had been plighted Not by moonbeam or starbeam, by fountain or grove, But in a front parlour, most brilliantly lighted. Beneath the gas fixtures we whispered our love, Without any romance, or raptures, or sighs, Without any tears in Miss Flora's blue eyes, Or blushes, or transports, or such silly actions; It was one of the quietest business transactions, With a very small sprinkling of sentiment, if any, And a very large diamond imported by Tiffany. These two engaged young persons are asked to the Stickup's ball, and the youth is speaking of his anticipated delight in introducing this charmer as his own to a so brilliant assembly, when, to his great surprise, The fair Flora looked up with a pitiful air, And answered quite promptly: Why, Harry, mon cher, The crimson brocade, the pink, the blue silk, the new In one single house on the Fifth Avenue, See those skeleton limbs, those frost-bitten feet, From the poor dying creature who writhes on the floor; And oh, if perchance there should be a sphere HOSPITAL-LIFE. A PRACTICE prevails among certain ingenious shopkeepers in large towns, of presenting those customers whom they look upon as country visitors with a card describing the character of their establishments and position as to railway-stations, hotels, and other central situations of easy access. On the reverse side of this card such local objects are mentioned as might naturally be thought interesting to strangers. Public statues and monuments, the handsomest streets and widest squares, such buildings as the College, Post-office, Town-hall, Theatre, or Art-gallery, are examples of the places so named. I have always observed that among the marked omissions are those buildings in which is led that sombre kind of existence I am about to describe. Nor is this surprising, as places of reception for the sick poor are generally associated in the public mind with scenes of constant suffering and almost hopeless disease. But the choicest assortment of French sleeves and The stranger who stops a passer-by to ask after the To survive for the want of a new Russian sable; Still another, whose tortures have been most terrific Or borne it, at least, with serene resignation collars Ever sent out from Paris, worth thousands of dollars, Halting as Mr Butler's metre often is, the easy cantering motion of these few latter lines approaches the as yet unrivalled amble of the Ingoldsby Legends. These which follow, and contain the pith of the whole matter, are by no means harmonious, but they have all the spirit of that great master of pathos who gave us the Song of the Shirt. O ladies, dear ladies, the next sunny day, Pick your delicate way through the dampness and dirt, cold. large dingy pile, with a scanty grass-plot in front, We should probably err in ascribing this lack of sympathy as much to indifference as to the effects of incorrect information. Men are not to be judged too harshly if they fail to shew much eagerness in acquainting themselves with distress which they believe they are powerless to remedy. Some, perhaps, may urge their pecuniary contributions to the hospital's funds, as affording exemption from anything additional, while others may justly plead their aptness to be misled by the indiscriminate application of the term hospital. That name is now applied to munificent institutions, doubtless founded for charitable purposes, but not more removed from hospitals proper by their stately architecture than by their ample endowments. It is true that many infirmaries are independent of eleemosynary aid, but others are notoriously poor. We may be pardoned for here observing that it is something of |