heavier rail; retaining the width of gauge, with the continuous timber bearings, as the most conducive to the general interests of the company." On this determination being read at a public meeting of the share holders, it was moved, "That this meeting, deeply sensible of the disastrous consequences inevitably arising from repeated discussions as to the principles acted on in carrying on the work, do request the directors to adhere to the principles laid down in the report, as most conducive to the per manent welfare of the proprietors." To this proposition an amendment was proposed, “That the reports of Mr. Wood and Mr. Hawkshaw contain sufficient evidence, that the plans of construction pursued by Mr. Brunel are injudicious, expensive, and ineffectual for this professed object, and ought not to be persevered in." On a division, 7792 votes were given for the report, and 6145 against it. Thus ended a contest which did considerable injury in many ways to the undertaking. However, the permanent timber bearings and the great width of the gauge are retained, and future experience must decide the question of their superiority over stone blocks and a narrow gauge. Since the decision in January last, the works have been proceding with great rapidity. We may now take a short glance at the principal features of the railway. The London entrance to the railway is not far from the west end of Oxford Street. Carriage and foot paths lead from the entrance to the station at Paddington, where there is a very capacious engine-house and carriage shed. Within a short distance of the commencement, the railroad passes under several handsome bridges; one of which, a continuation of the Westborne road, consists of seven arches. From the terminus a cutting commences, about a mile in length, and of an average depth of nine feet. Another cutting, of more than a mile in length, and averaging ten feet in length, carries the line through Wormwood Scrubs. About two miles from Paddington, the Thames Junction railway was intended to cross the Great Western. Old Oak Common is crossed by an embankment half a mile long, and about twelve feet average depth. We next enter the deepest cutting on this portion of the line, through Acton parish, near Friar's Place, where it is about twentyeight feet deep. Near to Old Oak Common, there is a private communication bridge across the cutting, with a handsome elliptical arch. After a short level, an excavation, two miles and a quarter in length, commences, through which the line is carried to Ealing: it is about fourteen feet in depth, chiefly through gravel and sandstone. This excavation is crossed by six bridges. At about six-miles from London an embankment commences, three quarters of a mile long, which leads to the Wharncliffe viaduct at Hanwell: its depth varies from about fifteen to thirty feet, and the road to Greenford is carried through it under a bridge. The viaduct, including the land-arches at each end, is about nine hundred feet in length. The main arches, eight in number, are nearly semi-elliptical, with a rise of seventeen feet, and seventy feet span. The piers at the springing of the arch are ten feet and a half thick, but wider at their base. This viaduct is one of the most beautiful parts of the whole railway. An embankment is continued from the viaduct to the Uxbridge road, over which the railway is carried by a bridge of cast-iron. From thence the line passes on to Norwood, upon an embankment of nearly a mile in length, and varying from ten to twenty feet in height, until the natural level of the ground is again attained. From Norwood, through Southall-green to Hayes parish, the embankments and excavations are slight; but at the last-mentioned place an embankment commences, which, for a mile and a half, averages ten feet in depth. In the course of it occurs an occupation bridge, two skew bridges, over the Paddington and Grand Junction canals, and another over Yedding brook. From hence, for two miles and a half, the cuttings and embankments are slight. At West Drayton, about thirteen miles from town, the railroad again crosses the Uxbridge road, by a brick bridge. An embankment nearly a mile long, and averaging fifteen feet in height, carries the line from West Drayton, over two streams at Thorney Road, and over the river Čolne, by two bridges. On entering Iver parish, the line passes through a cutting, of more than a mile in length, and averaging ten feet in depth. We then pass through Langley Marsh parish, and near the village of Slough. From Slough to Maidenhead, the excavations vary from ten to five feet in depth, and the embankment from eight to thirty feet in height; while there are thirteen bridges, passing either | over or under the railway, The line crosses the Great Western road at an angle of forty-five degrees, which res quires one of those remarkable constructions, a skew bridge. Leaving the turnpike road, an embankment passes by another ridge, over the Taplow road, and the embankment grows deeper as it approaches the Thames, its maximum being about thirty-five feet. From Paddington to Maidenhead, there are, besides the Wharncliffe viaduct, no less than twelve culverts and covered ways through embankments, and fifty-eight bridges passing over or under the line. The greatest inclination, or gradient, on this part of the line, is one foot in 1204, and the least one foot in 2640. The Thames is crossed by a bridge of brick, consisting of two arches of 128 feet span each; some difficulty has been experienced with respect to this bridge, on account of the temporary settlement or derangement of the arches: indeed the eastern arch had to be rebuilt. Beyond the Thames occur a series of excavations and embankments; there is an excavation at Sonning, and an embankment at or beyond Reading; and the earth taken from the one was intended to be used in the other, but from some delay, a change had to be made in this respect. The middle portions of the railway are either still in progress, or are what engineers call light, that is, small embankments and cuttings are all that are necessary. We will therefore not dwell on this part of the line, but will quit it with the remark, that a railway diverges from this line to Cheltenham, at Swindon. The part of which we shall lastly speak, viz., from Bath to Bristol, is by far the most difficult and gigantic of the whole, "It would be difficult, we believe," says Mr. Herapath, in the Railway Magazine, to which we have been indebted for many of the preceding details, "to instance another eleven miles of railway in the kingdom which display such a diversity of character, or greater natural obstacles to be overcome, than the line between Bristol and Bath, whilst the importance of these cities as termini is likewise unrivalled within the same distance out of the metropolis itself. Every variety of work which can be found on the largest railways (with the exception of crossing a moss,) is exhibited in the construction of this short line; and in some parts the works are of a very bold and imposing kind. Within the short space of eleven miles and a quarter, we have depôts, river, road, and occupation bridges, cul verts, viaducts, tunnels, covered ways, retaining walls, lofty and extensive embankments, and deep cuttings in earth and solid rock. All these works are necessitated by the peculiar nature of the country, which is hilly and difficult. The only valley in the direction of the line is that through which the river Avon runs from Bath to Bristol; and this winds so much, and is in some parts so narrow, as to render it impracticable for the railway to follow its course for any distance." The railroad crosses the Avon near Nesthaw Dam, and also near the depôt at Bath, keeping on the south side of it in the intervening distance: it occasionally touches the ground level, and is carried by means of tunnels and excavations through the hilly ridges, which run down nearly at right angles to the river, and by embankments and bridges over the intervening valleys and water courses. The cuttings and embankments nearly balance each other, the former being rather in excess, and amounting altogether to nearly one million cubic yards. Proceeding from the terminus at Temple Meads, Bristol, the line is carried over a short viaduct to the harbour bridge, from which an embankment leads to the Feeder, over which a bridge is thrown, and another embankment leads to the Avon, over which a bridge of three stone arches is thrown. Proceeding onward, the line arrives at a perpendicular cutting in red sandstone, fifty feet deep and 170 yards long. This leads to the first tunnel, 330 yards long, thirty feet high, and thirty feet wide: this is hewn out of the hard rock, and supported without artificial masonry. On emerging from the tunnel, the line enters a valley, and shortly afterwards another tunnel, about 150 yards in length. There then occurs some deep cutting through solid rock, and a third tunnel, more than half a mile long. On emerging from this, the line skirts the river Avon on an embankment; and then ensues a cutting, half a mile long, and in some places seventy feet deep, through hard sandstone: the sides are nearly perpendicular, and the whole presents a stupendous appearance. There then ensues an embankment three-quarters of a mile long and thirty feet high, during which are two stone bridges and two culverts. This is succeeded by another cutting, and by two more short embankments; after which comes a cutting, three-quarters of a mile long, and in some places forty feet deep, which leads to the Salford tunnel, 160 yards long. Thence succeeds a very deep excavation, then a high embankment nearly two miles long, passing over six bridges, -and then another cutting. Alternations of cutting and embanking follow until the line arrives at the Tiverton tunnel, 260 yards long. At about ten miles from Bristol is the Tiverton viaduct, half a mile in length. Another succession of cuttings and embankments brings the line to Bath.-The Box tunnel, excavated through hard stone, has already been alluded to. The railroad was opened from London to Maidenhead on the 4th June, 1838; and from then to the 30th September, the number of passengers was 177,774, the receipts being in June, 64597., in July, 69137., in August, 71527., in September, 75797. The velocity was never less than twenty-five miles per hour, and in many cases was above thirty miles. By the month of May in the past year the number of passengers had risen to about 1100 daily; the distance (still only to Maidenhead) being frequently performed in fortyeight minutes. In June, the receipts had amounted to 20007. per week. In July, the railroad was opened nine miles further, to Twyford. During the Ascot races, one of the railway trains conveyed no less a number than 675 passengers, besides some carriages and horses. The daily number of passengers has since approached 3000. In conclusion, we may say that this immense undertaking (which will cost more than five millions,) bids fair to be one of great importance in a commercial point of view, by bringing London and Ireland practically near each other, as well as in conveying colonial and other produce from Bristol to London. LONDON AND GREENWICH RAILWAY. This differs from every undertaking of the kind, in being raised on brick arches the whole distance. It was commenced in 1833, and connects London with the populous towns of Deptford and Greenwich, by a line which shortens the distance nearly one third. It commences south-east of London Bridge, and pursues nearly a straight line to the High Street of Deptford, whence it continues in a gentle curve to Greenwich, at which town there will shortly be a handsome terminus, about 200 yards from the church. The rails are laid throughout on a viaduct composed of about 1000 arches, each twenty-two feet high, eighteen feet span, and twenty-five feet in width from side to side. This form of construction was rendered necessary by the number of streets over which the line had to be carried, with the traffic through which it would otherwise have greatly interfered. This difficulty might have been overcome by means of an embankment, with arches at the intersections of the streets, but the expense in that case would have been enormous, since the whole of the materials must have been brought from a distance, and the cost of the additional ground that must have been purchased would have been great, as embankments require to be very wide at the bottom. A parapet wall, about four feet high, is built at each edge of the railway; and lamps and milestones are placed at certain distances. In the early part of 1836 a portion was opened about two miles and a quarter in length. By the end of the year the receipts averaged about 50l. per day. The original capital was 400,000l., after which 130,000l. were procured on bonds, and in the beginning of 1837, the directors announced that 200,000l. more was required. About that period the weekly traffic was between thirty and forty thousand persons. The blocks for carrying the rails on this railway, are principally of granite, and on these were placed cast-iron chairs. The iron rails weigh about fifty pounds the yard. No railroad experiences so much the effect of a holiday as that from London to Greenwich. Ever since it has been opened the whole distance, it becomes one of the means of transit for the summer visitors from London to Greenwich. During Whitsun week, in the year 1839, the number of passengers was remarkably large: on the Monday, 35,332, receipts, 12277.; Tuesday, 22,877, receipts, 7847.; Wednesday, 10,205, receipts, 3437.; Thursday, 4634, receipts, 1177.; Friday, 3372, receipts, 1224.; Saturday, 3467,making 29417. There is one circumstance which will always operate in keeping down, in some degree, the number of passengers upon this railway; we allude to the numerous steam-boats that ply every half-hour between London and Greenwich. At the same time it may be regarded as a striking instance of the extent of intercourse between the two places, that steam-boats go every half hour from London to Greenwich, and vice versa, and that railroad trains proceed every quarter of an hour throughout the day in both directions. This railroad, however, has a degree of importance given to it, by being the London terminus of the Croydon, and also of the Brighton Railway, of which one is finished, and the other is rapidly progressing. LONDON; Published by JOHN W. PARKER, WEST STRAND; and sold by all Booksellers. BENJAMIN WEST AND HIS WORKS, I. SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN TO COME UNTO ME, AND FORBID THEM NOT." THE family of BENJAMIN WEST, a celebrated historical painter of the last generation, was descended from Colonel James West, the friend and companion in arms of John Hampden, a name well known in the troubles of the seventeenth century. This ancestor of West, who belonged to Long-Crendon, in Buckinghamshire, was a descendant of the Lord Delaware, renowned in the wars of Edward the Third and the Black Prince; as the Marquis of Buckingham informed his Majesty King George the Third, at the time of the painting of the picture of the Institution of the Garter. West was born on the 10th of October, 1738, at Philadelphia, in America; for, though his family was of ancient and respectable standing in England, that part of it to which the painter belonged, had, about the year 1667, embraced Quakerism, and emigrated to America with some other families. When an individual is born with a peculiar talent for any profession or pursuit, the outbreaks of nature are generally manifested at intervals from the earliest years. The first occasion for the manifestation of the genius of young West, was when he was about seven years old. Being placed with a fly flap in his hand to watch the sleeping infant of his eldest sister, as he sat by the cradle, the child smiled in its sleep: he was struck with its beauty, and having procured some paper, drew its portrait in red and black ink. His mother returning into the house snatched up the paper, which he sought to conceal, and exclaimed to her daughter, "I declare he has made a likeness of little Sally." The drawing was shown to her husband, and the belief recurred to him that the boy would one day be very eminent. Soon after this he was sent to school, and during his hours of leisure was permitted to draw with a pen and ink. As yet he had never seen an engraving or a picture; for neither these nor professors of painting, were at that time entertained at Springfield, in Pennsylvania, where West was born and brought up. When, however, he was about eight years old, a party of Cherokee Indians paid their summer visit to Springfield, and being much pleased with the rude sketches which the boy had made of birds, fruits, and flowers, they shewed him some of their own workmanship, and taught him how to prepare the red and yellow colours with which they stained their weapons; and, when his mother gave him a piece of indigo, he was enabled to prepare the different colours necessary for his drawings. But he was at a loss how to lay these colours nicely on, until he was told by a neighbour, that the painters of Europe used brushes made of camel's hair. These being entirely out of his reach, he cut off a quantity of fur from the back and tail of his father's cat, with which he formed pencils. This depredation being frequently committed, his father observed the altered appearance of the cat, and lamented it as the effect of disease, until his son at length confessed the practices he had resorted to. At length, the genius of young West drew the attention of Mr. Pennington, a merchant of Philadelphia, who sent him a box of paints and pencils, with some canvass prepared for the easel, and six engravings by Grevling. West placed the box on a chair at his bedside, and was unable to sleep. He rose with the dawn, carried his canvass and colours to the garret, hung up the engravings, prepared his palette and began to copy. For several days he omitted to present himself at school, and laboured secretly and incessantly without interruption; but on the complaint of his master, his mother proceeded to his studio; but her rising anger subsided when she looked upon the performances of her boy. He had avoided mere copyism, and had produced a picture composed from two of the engravings, telling a new story, and coloured with a skill and effect, which was to her surprising. She kissed him (says Galt in his Memoirs), with transports of affection, and assured him that she would not only intercede with his father to pardon him for having absented himself from school, but would go herself to the master and beg that he might not be punished. Sixty-seven years afterwards the writer of these Memoirs had the gratification to see this piece in the same room with the outline painting of Christ Rejected, on which occasion the painter declared to him that there were inventive touches of art in his first and juvenile essay, which, with all his subsequent knowledge and experience, he had not been able to surpass. It was the highest pleasure of Mr. West in after years to declare emphatically, that the kiss which his mother gave him decided him to be a painter. West could never be called at any time of his life an educated man. The discipline and regular pursuits of school accorded not with the glowings of his fancy and his desire for painting. What he acquired in the way of education, was obtained after he was fifteen years of age, chiefly by the desultory assistance of his friends, and particularly of Dr. Smith, Provost of the College at Philadelphia, a gentleman of good classical attainments, who perceived his deficiency, and undertook his tuition. This judicious scholar directed his attention particularly to those objects and incidents which tended to fire his imagination, and to furnish future subjects for his pencil. first attempt at historical painting, the "Death of Socrates," was produced about this time, and excited universal admiration. His The excitement accompanying these efforts of genius, contributed probably to bring on a dangerous fever; for West was of a sober and mild temperament except when roused by the love of his art. When, through the care and attention of his friends, his distemper began to subside, he was for some time so weak as to be obliged to keep his bed, and to have the room darkened. One day, while thus lying in bed, he saw a vision of a cow pass across the ceiling of his bedroom ;-then followed a sow with a litter of pigs ;-then, men, women, and children. His friends thought that his mind was disordered; but the medical attendant, when sent for, declared him free from fever or delirium. He however, prescribed for him a composing draught, and went away. When left to himself for a while, West rose from bed, and examining the shutters, discovered a knot-hole which threw into the darkened room a reflection of whatever forms were passing along the street at the time. On placing his hand over this hole, the figures immediately disappeared. The advantage of this discovery in furthering the delineations of natural objects, immediately struck his mind; and on recovering his health, he got a box made with one of the sides perforated, which he found of great practical use in promoting his improvement in painting. In short, without having ever heard of the instrument, he had invented the camera obscura*. When West had arrived at the age of sixteen, it was considered high time for him to make choice of a profession. His father, though delighted with the genius of his son, felt some scruple at making him a painter, the utility of which profession is not recognised by the Quakers. Some respectable neighbours pressed * For an account of this optical instrument, see Saturday Magazine, Vol. XII. p. 72. The upon him the duty of giving the youth a sober trade, and not allowing him to exercise an occupation which ministered only to the concerns of vanity. worthy man, troubled by conflicting opinions, determined to call a meeting of the Friends of Springfield, and to submit to the wisdom of the Society the future destination of Benjamin. They met; but considerable difference of opinion prevailed, until a venerable member of the Society, John Williamson, at length arose and addressed the assembly as follows :— To John West and Sarah Pearson a man-child hath been born, on whom God hath conferred some remarkable gifts of mind; and ye have all heard that, by something amounting to inspiration, the youth hath been induced to study the art of painting. It is true that our tenets refuse to own the utility of that art to mankind, but it seemeth to me that we have considered the matter too nicely. God hath bestowed on this youth a genius for art,-shall we question His wisdom? Can we believe that He giveth such rare gifts but for a wise and a good purpose? I see the Divine hand in this; we shall do well to sanction the art and encourage this youth. The youth was summoned to appear before them. He came and took his station in the middle of the room, with his father on his right hand, his mother on his left, and the whole Quaker community around them. Painting (continued John Williamson,) hath been hitherto employed to embellish life, to preserve voluptuous images, and to add to the sensual gratifications of man. For this we classed it among vain and merely ornamental things, and excluded it from amongst us. But this is not the principle, but the mis-employment of painting. In wise and in pure hands it riseth in the scale of moral excellence, and displayeth a loftiness of sentiment and a devout dignity worthy of the contemplation of Christians. I think genius is given by God for some high purpose. What the purpose is, let us not inquire-it will be manifest in His own good time and way. He hath in this remote wilderness endowed with the rich gifts of a superior spirit this youth, who hath now our consent to cultivate his talents for art:-may it be demonstrated in his life and works that the gifts of God have not been bestowed in vain, nor the motives of the beneficent inspiration, which induceth us to suspend the strict operation of our tenets, prove barren of religious or moral effect! This reasoning was deemed satisfactory by the meeting; the women rose and kissed the young artist; and the men one by one laid their hands upon his head, and gave him their benediction. This scene made a strong and lasting impression upon the mind of West: he looked upon himself as dedicated to art, and as having entered into a covenant to employ his pencil on subjects holy and pure. Hence he always shewed in his deportment the grave simplicity of the Quaker; and moral rectitude and propriety were diffused through all the productions of his pencil. A CHURCHYARD THOUGHT. To whom belongs this grassy mound, So poor, compared with those around, And storied urns record the worth But here there's neither stone or name To mark the humble sod; Enough! no marble need proclaim Where sleeps the child of God.-E. T. Nay profanation, to keep in; When as a thousand virgins on this day, forefathers. At the first peep of day on May morning, This was, in fact, the great rural festival of our the youth of both sexes hastened to the fields, and gathered the blossoming branches, which, when still further adorned with wreaths of flowers, were to constitute the ornamental bowers at the entrance of their cottages. Their doors and lattices were all decorated with these garlands soon after sunrise, and the rest of the hours were passed in mirth and village pastimes. In the verses of Herrick, on the May-day of England, (from which we have already quoted,) there occurs the following description of the appearance of the houses and streets on the May morning of his time. Come my Corinna, come; and comming marke Or branch; each porch, each doore, ere this Made up of whitethorn neatly interwove; And sin no more, as we have done, by staying; It is impossible to read these glowing descriptions of May, and not to feel that they are inapplicable to the early part of our month at the present time. To send our lads and lasses forth at early dawn, to gather the blossoms of the sloe, (for the hawthorn is only just in full leaf, and does not venture forth its flowers,) and to invite them to brave the cold and often frosty air, to collect the scanty products of our woods and fields before sunrise would be to offer them a sorry pastime indeed, and one of which they might rue the effects on their health for the remainder of the season. To what cause, then, are we to attribute the change which appears to have taken place? Were our forefathers so hardy a race as to account a season similar to the commencement of our May a fit period for their rural pleasures, and are we to suppose that their description of the flowers and the sunshine is somewhat exaggerated in consequence of the difference of their feelings from ours; as well as of their propensity to copy the style of the southern poets? Or may we not rather believe that the seasons themselves are changed, since that time, so as to make the early descriptions of May thus unlike our own experience of the character of the month? The latter appears to |