mineral: the noise, activity, and bus- | it, and all the chippings and rubbish tle, are here curiously contrasted procured by excavation, were thrown with the silence and horror that reign upon the surface. As it became harin other parts of this underground dened and secure, the canal was granavigation. The branches, which dually lengthened; and in a few sumdiverge in every direction, extend mers, upon a morass which would not upwards of eighteen miles. Some of bear even the weight of a man, were them are as much as 180 feet below, seen the luxuriant crop, and the comand others 90 above, the level of the fortable farm-house. Here also is a stream by which the mine is entered; capacious reservoir, containing all and by means of very powerful machi- the boats employed upon this extennery, the lower ones are secured from sive navigation. The mine, with its inundation, whilst the water in those varied appendages, has ever been a above is retained at its proper level. leading object of curiosity. The stranThe latter convey the coal from the ger as he journeys by the place, or shaft beneath Walkden Moor, which the sportsman as he ranges at his ease continues to be worked to an amazing through the neighbourhood, seldom depth. reflects upon the operations which are going on in silence and in darkness so far beneath his feet; nor do mankind in general consider by what human exhaustion, intrepidity, and deprivation, their most habitual conveniences are very frequently procured. It would be impossible, without the aid of graphic illustration, to give any adequate description of the very intricate and effective machines contrived by Mr. Brindley for these works. They may doubtless be found in the scientific publications of the date of The estimated value of the entire their erection; and one or two, with undertaking was £220,000; but it is which we happen to be acquainted, known to have cost above double that will probably be more acceptable than sum; the voluntary appropriation of a detail of the whole. Near the a single individual: the tunnel alone mouth of the tunnel is a mill, which cost £168,960. How fortunate would answers the treble purposes of work- it be, did the speculations or whims ing three pair of stones for corn; of of the rich and powerful, always opea machine for sifting and compound-rate so beneficially for the community ing mortar for the works; and of a at large! boulting mill. There is a perpendicular shaft for the conveyance of water from the upper canals to those which are connected with still deeper parts of the mine: this also acts as a bellows, forcing downwards supplies of fresh air, for the security of the adventurous miner. On this lowest level, boats with loose frames were employed, which, on arriving at its termination, were hoisted up by powerful machinery, deposited on others in the upper stream, and by them conveyed to the entrance of the mine. A little beyond the termina-nagement and ready ingenuity, pretion of the canal was an immense bog, very unseemly to the eye, and prejudicial to surrounding cultivation. Brindley had deep drains made from *The noble and ingenious proprietor, in 1800, received a gold medal from the Society of Arts, for an ingenious contrivance by which boats with their lading were conveyed by an inclined plane from the lower to the upper canals, instead of being hoisted up perpendicularly. Twelve tons of coal are raised at each evolution, and the boat and cargo weigh eight or nine tons more. Yet, notwithstanding this immense expenditure-an expenditure which entirely consumed the hereditary revenues of the Duke-the speculation has proved altogether successful. Farms, upon the whole line, quickly rose from £20 to £100 a year. The net profits, many years ago, exceeded £80,000 per annum; and it is fair to presume, that with the rapidly advancing opulence and magnitude of Manchester and Liverpocl, this princely income has progressively increased. Brindley's excellent ma vented originally a very great additional expense; nor have the Duke's successors been less fortunate in their servants, under whose superintendence the mine has been uncommonly productive, and the canal, by judicious diversions, connected with almost every navigation in the kingdom.t The receipts were bequeathed by the Duke to the Marquis of Stafford, in trust for his son, Earl Gower. His Grace was a man The lucrative nature of canal navigation led, as might be expected, to its rapid adoption in every part of the country; and Mr. Brindley's wellearned celebrity, produced reiterated applications for his services. His first undertaking was the Grand Trunk; his last a branch from Chesterfield to the Trent. Between those periods, he had planned or completed upwards of twenty canals, one of which was the old Birmingham; and when it is mentioned that the price of coal fell, the day after it was opened, from 18s. to 7s. 6d. per ton, our readers will allow that it must have been highly conducive to the commercial importance which this town has subsequently attained. He superintended a new system of drainage for the fens in Lincolnshire; invented an efficient apparatus for cleansing the docks at Liverpool; and, finally, constructed an ingenious machine for clearing mines, by a losing and gaining bucket. It may be stated also, since public attention has recently been directed to the subject, that Brindley offered to construct a canal aqueduct at Runcorn Gap, where the tide flows to the height of fourteen feet; nor is it likely that his inventive genius would have sunk beneath the difficulties which at present damp all enterprise in that quarter. In alluding to the termination of Mr. Brindley's life, we cannot but consider the waste of faculty consequent on the excessive cultivation of his memory, as greatly contributing to accelerate that event. This propensity, or necessity, induced him to of very secluded and somewhat singular habits: homely to an excess in his appearance, and still more diffident in his address. It is said that a neighbouring clergyman, to whom he had some dislike, requested an interview on matters of business. He called several times, but could never succeed; the Duke slipping out at the back door, whilst the Divine was parleying at the front. Retiring one morning, vexed and disappointed, he observed the Duke stealing away through an avenue of trees, and immediately quickened his pace to overtake him. His Grace, finding that he was pursued, proceeded still more rapidly, till at last he fairly took to his heels. The Clergyman was, however, the nimblest; and his Grace, as a last resort, jumped into an old saw-pit: but here his inveterate pursuer shortly followed, exclaiming 'My Lord Duke, I have you at last!" His Grace put his hands to his sides, and shaking with laughter, said, "Fairly beaten, by G." avoid every species of relaxation; and to neglect those innocent recreations, by which mind and body are mutually revigorated, and their united energies secured. Once, and once only, was he induced to be present at a theatrical representation, from which he derived about as much satisfaction as a Lancashire weaver would feel at the opera-house. The multiplied undertakings in which he was engaged, attended from their nature with such intense application, and unaccompanied by the "jucunda oblivia vita" which most men enjoy, brought on a hectic fever of tedious duration, which terminated his active and honourable life in the year 1772, at the early age of 56. As a public character, Mr. Brindley struck out an entirely new path, surrounded with difficulties, and opposed to experience: but enthusiastic enterprise diminished the one, and commanding ability superseded the other. As a private individual, he was consistent, virtuous, and benevolent; and if the useful application of splendid talents be a legitimate ground for distinction, there are few who can claim a larger proportion of it than JAMES BRINDLEY. W. THE CHEST IN THE CORNER.-No. 2. "Where through groves deep and high, Sounds the far billow, Where early violets die, Under the willow: There through the summer's day, MARMION, Canto III. The night mentioned at the close of my last paper, being passed, my readers may find me, at the commencement of the next day, at my door, with my hat and my stick in hand, and about to set out to the school, the scene of my daily labours. It being Good Friday, I had determined to allow my pupils and myself a cessation from scholastic employment, only requesting some of the elder ones to afford me the pleasure of knowing that they reverenced the day, by learning the 53d chapter of Isaiah's prophecy. When I arrived near the little building, the noise which issued from it informed me that my scholars had assembled themselves, according to my request the day before. Order, however, was restored, when I entered, and resumed my place at the head of the room. I had no sooner expressed the above-mentioned desire, than twelve or thirteen boys rose, and professed their willingness to comply with my wishes. I commended them; and after intimating to all the very high displeasure which I should feel, did they not conduct themselves with propriety, I dismissed them. My readers will forgive me if I am prolix. I cannot help it, for never was there a happier school than ours. | I have seen several generations of scholars pass away; some are settled in comfortable situations, some are dead; I have watched them as far as human ken can reach; I have traced them to the verge of that glory, where my mortal vision has been overpowered by brightness; and as they have soared from the arms of earthly connections, I have anticipated ineffable delights, beyond the bounds of earth, and the limits of temporal exist ence. But to return, I remained some time in the school, reading; at last, the clock striking eight, reminded me that it was time I should return home to breakfast. I accordingly walked leisurely thither. My meal was ready, and I had drunk about half my milk, when a sound in the passage, and a tap at my door, announced the arrival of my guide; who readily accepted the invitation I immediately gave him, to enter and seat himself. "I thought you would have finished your meal before now," said he, in reply to a casual inquiry, such as people usually make upon meeting. "I think,” returned I, "that you are before your time;" to which he made no answer, but continued to amuse himself, as he had previously done, by making figures with his stick in the sand, which covered my floor. "How far is it to the residence of your deceased friend, Adam," inquired I. "About five miles," said he, "and a very pleasant walk too. We go across the fields on the hill, and down the valley by the river side."-"Then it is near the Long sand beach."-"Yes," said he, "about five minutes walk.” | A few minutes more found us on the road to the hut of the deceased. The morning was cloudy, but now and then the sun burst from his ambush, and gilded creation with his rays. We occupied some time in desultory conversation, till at last the object of our visit coming on the carpet, Adam became very silent, and as I am not of a particularly loquacious disposition, I did not endeavour to rouse bim from his moody dream, but allowed myself to rove in imagination o'er days gone by. It is impossible for me to give my readers any adequate idea of the quick transition of thought with which my mind was occupied; remembrances of the scenes of childhood flashed across my mind, bringing with them all the endearing recollections of boyish pleasure: my native little cottage, the surrounding garden, enriched with fruit trees, the delightful rivalry, whether my sister or I should pluck the first ripe strawberry for our mother, and get the sweetest kiss for our pains, and then, as at the whistle of the theatrical prompter, all these scenes vanished, and in their stead, rose the awful forms of estranged friends, of vanished joys, or the storms of adversity, which had separated those from me, whom childhood had held dear, and whom youth had venerated. My ideas then ran on the deceased. How various are the states of men! "Perhaps," said I to myself, as we entered a field at the top of the hill, "this poor man who now excites the pity of even this old sailor, was once the care of affectionate parents, the joy of admiring friends, and the delight of extensive acquaintances; and how is the scene changed! we may say with the poet, "Where are your gibes now, and those flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table in a roar?" Forsaken, friendless, dead! no voice to calm the tumult of thy breast, when nature was overwhelmed with disease; no hand to wipe away the death-damp when the body and soul were about to be separated. The idea was irresistibly affecting, and, spite of my philosophy, the tears rushed to my eyes. We were now on the top of the hill, that overlooked, on one side, the town, the priory, and Erdline Hall; and on the other, the river, the church, the beach, and the ocean, the latter resisted by rocks of amazing height and tremendous aspect. The night having been rather stormy, and the wind blowing directly from the N. E. had excited the waves, which at present were in a state of considerable agitation. The clouds passing quickly over the breakers, as they bore on their backs a considerable quantity of sea-weed, and now and then the sun bursting suddenly from one of the dark masses with which the sky was enveloped, and gilding the extremity of the fluid hills, had an inconceivably agreeable effect. Here and there were to be discovered the little fishing smacks, while the sea-bird screamed on the shore, to call back its mate from its stormy resting place. The church on the opposite hill is rather a modern building, but still it adds much to the beauty of the scene. The old church, which was nearer the sea, was destroyed by the sand; the remains of it, however, are still to be traced, and the number of human teeth and bones, of all descriptions, that are strewed near the few scattered stones, announce to the beholder that the remains of fellow-creatures have slumbered for ages on the very spot, where now the reeds whisper as the playful winds wander among them, and where the spotless sand dances to the music of the breeze. We next descended a deep ravine, that led into the glen, through which we had to walk for about two miles more, to the hut of the deceased; we left the ocean on the left hand, and passed under the shade of some large pines, which overhang the valley, and whose shadow was reflected back by the little river which meandered slowly along. sphere, and at a distance we occasionally heard the murmurs of thunder. A narrow plank was laid across the stream, which was the only place by which we could have access to the habitation of the deceased. We passed over it with care, and having climbed up the rock, I softly opened the latch, as one is always wont to do, on approaching the remains of a fellow creature, and found Mr. Atkins, our worthy magistrate, making arrangements for the funeral; while two men under his direction had taken possession of a square sort of box, which lay in the corner of the hovel, very much in appearance resembling some boxes which I have seen for keeping philosophical apparatus. 66 Adam, who during our walk had been full of thought, now appeared to be transported by rage. Avast," cried he, with a voice that might have rivaled Stentor, Avast, that's my prize; d'ye think I'll let you board her, no, founder me if I do; (the men immediately left off their attempts to force open the box,) for poor Oliver," continued Adam, gave that to me, and for his sake I'll keep it, poor fellow! poor fellow! poor fellow!" sinking his voice at each reiteration of the exclamation of pity, till the last was almost inaudible. By this time I had found leisure to survey the hut. It was partly natural, partly artificial. On a rude couch, the head of which was towards the rock, lay the body of the deceased, his eyes closed in death, and his features now more than ever wearing a melancholy cast. Care had already made wrinkles on his brow, and silvered parts of his hair, though, as I have since found, he was not We had pursued this way for some above thirty-five. I took a very_attentime, till at last we saw the Long tive survey of the features-I saw sand beach; and shortly after, my every expression of the countenance companion, who was a few paces be--I felt a strange sort of sympathy hind, cried out, "Stop." I turned, and perceived that we had arrived at the termination of our journey. On the opposite side of the river, (which in this place was of considerable depth, besides having a bank of about six feet,) was the hut of the solitary on a rock, about seven feet from the top of the opposite bank of the river. On both sides it had rocks for a shelter from the wind, and from the eye of the passenger. Every thing about it looked very lonely. The clouds had by this time quite obscured the hemiNo. 42.-Vol. IV. arising in my breast-a sudden recollection of past days. Memory in vain tortured herself with inquiries, and at last relinquished the unavailing search. Round the hut were rude utensils; a chair, a table, wooden trenchers, cups, and so on, formed the furniture of him, who was removed to that place, where the inhabitants shall hunger no more, nor thirst again. During the altercation between Mr. Atkins' men and Adam I remained silent, but when it was over, I moved 2 U have found documents relative to our family, which will explain this mystery, and which I design to lay before them in some succeeding papers. REVIEW-Lectures on Physiology, Zoo- "For let the witling argue all he can, towards the corner, and on the top of the chest perceived a parcel of paper, which had hitherto escaped notice. I took it up, and found it a memorandum, whereby Oliver, commonly known by the name of the silent gentleman, gave all his effects to Adam Earnest, &c. At the bottom of this document was signed F. O. which I conceived to be the initials of the deceased. I shewed the paper to Mr. Atkins, who immediately acquiesced in Adam's claim to the box, which was lifted up by a person who had just joined the party, without my observing him, and who, though an old man, appeared to possess considerable No work has emanated from the press strength, which he displayed in plac- for a considerable period, calculated ing the box on his shoulder, in carry- to excite a more lively and general ing it down over the rock, and adjust- interest, than the present volume; ing it in the wheel-barrow, which he whether it be considered in reference had brought with him. Adam re- to the author-the importance of the quested that I would allow the chest subject-the doctrines which it inculto be taken to my house; to which I cates-or the circumstances under willingly consented, and the man and which they have been promulgated. barrow drove away, and were soon The high reputation and generally acout of sight amid the windings of the knowledged ability of Mr. Lawrence, valley. Mr. Atkins then informed are sufficient, of themselves, to give Adam, that if the box contained any a more than ordinary degree of immoney, it must be applied to defray-portance and interest to any subject ing the expenses of the funeral, which he said would take place on the succeeding Wednesday. The old man expressed a wish that the few other articles remaining in the hut might be converted into money, for the same purpose. "Then," said Mr. A. "the broker may take them, I suppose." Yes." replied the old man, "and if you, Sir, (to Mr. A.) would be so good as". Certainly," returned the magistrate, it shall be so, Adam." We here parted, my old companion and myself taking the road to the town. The old man insisted that I should return to his hut, which was but a little out of the way home, to take some refreshment. I complied with his wish, and after sitting at his little table some time, we moved slowly to my apartments, where the chest was deposited in the corner of my parlour. "Adam," said I," shall I open it?" "Yes," Mr. said he, giving me the key. I unlocked it, and on the inside of the lid, in large letters was inscribed, "FREDERICK ORRIL." "Good heaven's!" exclaimed I, unable to suppress my feelings, "my cousin!" 66 66 66 I must now inform my readers, that in the chest in the corner, I which he should select as the object of his attention; but when to these are superadded, matter, deeply affecting our religious creeds and belief, not only our existence here, but hereafter-subverting all former principles of Ethics-this volume comprises every thing at once interesting, either in a moral or physical sense. Much, however, as we naturally feel disposed to bow to the superior talent of Mr. Lawrence, we are by no means prepared to receive his opinions upon the present question as orthodox; nor even to admit that his conclusions legitimately result from his own arguments. On the contrary, we are inclined to think, that he has grossly exaggerated some, and misrepresented others, of the facts; and indeed, that the first half of the book presents a complete tissue of perverted reasoning and false induction. The great object of Mr. Lawrence is, to infer, that all the phenomena of mind depend upon medullary organization;-that the man and the oyster the Newton and the ass-are merely modifications of the same material principles; and that the difference consists only in a superior nicety of mechanism, and a few ounces more |