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I need not pursue this subject much further; common sense will tell everybody who will reflect on the subject with common sense that I am correct, and that it is best for persons of every age to have to themselves the shelter within which they pass one third of their whole lives-thirty years of life, if they live to be ninety years old. I dwell, therefore, only on one point more in favor of the single bed, and that is to enforce the lesson that under the single-bed system it is rendered impossible to place very old and very young persons to sleep together. To the young this is a positive blessing, for there is no practice more deleterious to them than to sleep with the aged. The vital warmth that is so essential for their growth and development is robbed from them by the aged, and they are enfeebled at a time when they are least able to bear the enfeeblement.

The single bed for every sleeper determined on, the size of the bedstead and the number of bedsteads in the room, according to space, should be considered. For ordinary adult persons the bedstead need not exceed three feet six inches in width by six feet six inches in length; and in no room, however well it may be ventilated, should a bedstead be placed in less than a thousand cubic feet of breathing-space. A bedroom for two single beds should not measure less than sixteen feet long by twelve feet wide and eleven feet high. There are some sanitarians who would not be satisfied with those dimensions for a room to be occupied by two persons, and I frankly admit the dimensions are close to the minimum, though with good ventilation they may, I think, suffice. With bad ventilation they are confessedly out of court, and I name them merely for the sake of meeting the necessities of the limited bedroom space that pertains to the houses of great cities. In my own mind I do not consider twice the amount of space named at all too much, even with the ventilation as free as I have suggested in previous chapters of this essay.

There can be no mistake that the bedstead should be constructed of metal, of iron or brass, or a combination of those metals. Wooden bedsteads are altogether out of date in healthy houses. They are not cleanly, they harbor the unclean, and they are not cleansable like a metal framework. The framework of the bed should be so constructed that the bed or mattress is raised two feet from the floor of the room, and the whole framework should be steady and so well knit together that the movements of the sleeper should cause neither creaking nor vibra

tion.

A good deal of controversy has been raised on the matter of curtains for beds. From the old system of curtains all round the bed, like a tent, there has been a reaction to an entire aboli

tion of the curtains. I am of opinion that this complete change is not beneficial. Two light side head-curtains, with a curtain at the back of the head and a small tester, are, I think, very good parts of a bedstead. The curtains fulfill a doubly useful purpose: they shield the head and face of the sleeper from draughts, and they enable the sleeper to shut out the direct light from the window without in any way necessitating him to shut the light out at the window itself. The room may be filled with light, and yet the sleeper may be shielded from the direct action of it upon his eyes if he have the curtain as a shield.

The kind of bed on which the body should rest is a question on which there is extreme divergence of opinion. Whenever we leave our own bed to go to sleep elsewhere, in an hotel or in the house of a friend, it is almost certain that we shall find a bed differing from that to which we are accustomed. We may find a bed of down so soft that to drop into it is like dropping into light dough; we may find a soft feather bed, or a soft mattress, or a spring mattress, a moderately hard mattress, or a mattress as hard, I had nearly said, as the plank bed for which our prisons are now so unenviably notorious. These differences are determined by the taste of the owner of the bed, without much reference to principle, or to the likings of any one else in the world; not a very good or satisfactory state of things. There ought to be some principle for guidance in a trial so solemn as that which settles the mode in which our bodies shall rest for a third of our mortal existence.

I fear it is hard to fix on definite principles, but there is one principle, at any rate, which may be relied on, and which, when it is understood, goes a long way toward solving the question of the best kind of bed for all sleepers. The principle is, that the bed, whatever it be made of, should be so flexible, if I may use the term, that all parts of the body may rest upon it equally. It ought to adapt itself to the outline of the body in whatever position the body may be placed. The very hard mattress which yields nothing, and which makes the body rest on two or three points of corporeal surface, is at once excluded from use by this principle, and I know of no imposition that ought to be excluded more rigorously. On the other hand, the bed that is so soft that the body is enveloped in it, though it may be very luxurious, is too oppressive, hot, and enfeebling; it keeps up a regular fever which can not fail to exhaust both physical and mental energies, and at the same time it really does not adapt itself perfectly to the outline of the body.

The best kind of bed, taking everything into consideration, is one of two kinds. A fairly soft feather bed laid upon a soft horsehair mattress,

or a thin mattress laid upon one of the elastic steel-spring beds which have lately been so ingeniously constructed of small connected springs that yield in a wave-like manner to every motion. It is against my inclination to try to write out the time-honored old feather bed and mattress, but I am forced to state that the new steel-spring bed is, of necessity, the bed of the future. It fulfills every intention of flexibility; it is durable; it goes with the bedstead, as an actual part of it, and it can never be a nest or receptacle of contagion or impurity.

On the subject of bedclothes, the points that have most to be enforced are that heavy bedclothing is always a mistake, and that weight in no true sense means warmth. The light down quilts or coverlets which are now coming into general use are the greatest improvements that have been made, in our time, in regard to bedclothes. One of these quilts takes well the place of two blankets, and they cause much less fatigue from weight than layer upon layer of blanket covering.

As to the actual quantity of clothes which should be on the sleeper, I can lay down no rule of numbers or quantities, because different people require such different amounts. I can, nevertheless, offer one very good practice which every person can learn to apply. It should be the rule to learn so to adapt the clothing that the body is never cold and never hot while under the clothes. The first rule is usually followed, and need not be dwelt on; the last is too commonly broken. It is a practice too easily acquired to sleep under so

much clothing that the body becomes excessively heated, feverishly heated. This condition gives rise to exhaustion, to disturbing dreams, to headache, to dyspepsia, and to constipation. It is so injurious that it is better to learn to sleep with even too little than with too much clothing over the body. This, specially, is true for the young and the vigorous. It is less true for the old, but in them it holds good in a modified degree.

The position of the bed in the bedroom is of moment. The foot of the bed to the fireplace is the best arrangement when it can be carried out. The bed should be away from the door, so that the door does not open upon it, and it should never, if it can be helped, be between the door and the fire. If the head of the bed can be placed to the east, so that the body lies in the line of the earth's motion, I think it is in the best position for the sleeper.

The furniture of the bedroom, other than the bed, should be of the simplest kind. The chairs should be uncovered, and free from stuffing of woolen or other material; the wardrobe should have closely fitting doors; the utensils should have closely fitting covers; and everything that can in any way gather dust should be carefully excluded.

In a word, the bedroom, the room for the third of this mortal life, and that third the most helpless, should be a sanctuary of cleanliness and order, in which no injurious exhalation can remain for a moment, and no trace of uncleanliness offend a single sense.

B. W. RICHARDSON, M. D. (Good Words).

(To be continued.)

SEPTE

SENIOR'S CONVERSATIONS.

SECOND SERIES OF SELECTIONS.*

SAGACITY OF JURIES.

PTEMBER 1st (1861).—I will throw together my conversations of the last two days with Sir W. Erle.t

I mentioned that in all the Swiss constitutions trial by jury in criminal matters was required. Erle. And very wisely.

* See "Appletons' Journal" for May.

+ Sir William Erle was appointed, in 1844, one of the Judges of the Court of Common Pleas; in 1846 he was transferred to the Court of Queen's Bench; in 1859 he was promoted to the Chief Justiceship of the Court of Common Pleas, on the elevation of Lord Campbell to the Woolsack. He retired into private life, taking his farewell of the Bench on November 26, 1866.-ED.

Senior. Wisely for the purpose of keeping power in the hands of the people? Erle. Wisely for all purposes.

Senior. Including the discovery of truth? Erle. Including the discovery of truth. I believe that a jury is in general far more likely to come to a right decision than a judge.

Senior. That seems to me strange. The judge has everything in his favor-intelligence, education, experience, and responsibility.

Erle. With respect to intelligence, a judge is certainly superior to an ordinary juryman; but among the twelve there will generally be found one, often two men, of considerable intelligence, and they lead the rest. As to education, the jury have decidedly the advantage. The education

of a judge, as far as relates to deciding fact, is the education of a practicing barrister who is immersed in the world of words, and removed from acting in the commercial, agricultural, and manufacturing facts which form the staple of contest. He is so accustomed to deny what he believes to be true, to defend what he feels to be wrong, to look for premises, not for conclusions, that he loses the sense of true and false-i. e., real and unreal. Then he is essentially a London gentleman; he knows nothing of the habits of thought, or of feeling, or of action in the middle and lower classes who supply our litigants, witnesses, and prisoners. And it is from barristers thus educated that judges are taken.

When tried by a jury, the prisoner is tried by his peers, or by those who are a little above his peers, who are practically accustomed to the facts adduced as probantia, and can truly appreciate their value. I have often been astonished by the sagacity with which they enter into his feelings, suppose his motives, and from the scattered indicia afforded by the evidence conjecture a whole series of events. For, after all, the verdict, if it be a conviction, must always be a conjecture.

Experience the judge certainly has. As counsel or as judge he has taken part in many hundreds of trials. The juryman may never have served before. But this long experience often gives the judge prejudices which warp his judgment. The counsel who are accustomed to plead before him find them out and practice on them.

I was counsel in a case of assault. My client had had three ribs broken by a drunken bargeman. The opposite counsel cross-examined as to whether since the accident, he had not been a field-preacher, whether he had not actually preached from a tub. He admitted that he had. I did not see the drift of this, for, though a man could not easily preach directly after his ribs had been broken, he might when they had reunited. The judge summed up strongly against me, and my client got nothing. I afterward found that the judge had an almost insane hatred of fieldpreachers. It is true that each juryman may have prejudices equally absurd, but they are neutralized by his fellows, and, above all, they are not known. They can not be turned to account by counsel.

As for responsibility, a judge being a permanent officer, especially a judge sitting alone, is more responsible to public opinion than any individual juryman, who is one of a body assembled only once and immediately dissolved. But I believe that the feeling of moral responsibility is much stronger in the case of the juryman, to whom the situation is new, whose attention is excited, who for the first time in his life is called upon to exercise public important functions in the

face of all his neighbors, than in that of a judge who is doing to-day what he has been doing perhaps every day for ten years before. I have seen dreadful carelessness in judges. Again, a judge is often under the influence of particular counsel; some he hates, some he likes, some he relies on, and some he fears. It is easy for a judge to be impartial between plaintiff and defendant-indeed, he is almost always so; it is difficult to be impartial between counsel and counsel.

Senior. I have felt that myself, but in general the feeling of dislike was stronger than that of liking. There were men on whose side I could decide only by an effort; they were so false, so sophistical, so anxious to dress up a cause which was sufficiently good if merely clearly and simply stated, that I was almost ashamed to decide for them lest I should be supposed to have been deceived. But I do not recollect having had favorites.

Erle. Perhaps you had them without knowing it, and attributed solely to the argument a force which was partly due to your good opinion of the speaker.

Senior. Just as a juryman, who had been in court during the whole sitting at Liverpool, congratulated Scarlett on having been always employed by the side that was in the right. What class give you the best jurymen ?

Erle. The respectable farmers and the higher shopkeepers in the country towns. The men from the great cities, accustomed to excess in trade speculations, are inferior to them, especially in an honest sense of duty. The worst juries that I have known came from such places. Their adventurous gambling trade seems to make them reckless. At one time they appeared to have pleasure in deciding against what they supposed to be my opinion, which I counteracted by seeming to give more emphasis to the reasons in favor of the decision to which I was opposed. One of the things which used at first to surprise me is, the very small motive which is enough to lead men to commit atrocious crimes. Smethurst's *motive, for instance, was a small one.

Senior. You hold Smethurst guilty?

Erle. Certainly I do. If the evidence against him was insufficient, almost all circumstantial evidence must be insufficient, for it scarcely ever is stronger.

Senior. Sir George Lewis was partly influenced by the want of motive.

* Dr. Smethurst was accused of marrying Miss Bankes during the lifetime of his wife. He caused her to make a will in his favor, and she died soon afterward of slow

poison. He was convicted and sentenced to execution, but Sir George Lewis, who was Home Secretary at that time, did not consider the evidence sufficient, and granted him a free pardon. Smethurst was afterward tried, convicted, and imprisoned for bigamy.-Ed.

Erle. Do you recollect the Buckinghamshire groom, who murdered his fellow servant because she would not give him a glass of beer?

Erle. I have no doubt that he did attempt to murder, and I think that I should have convicted him.

Senior. Would he have been hanged?

Senior. Do you believe that many innocent men are tried ?

Erle. I believe that many men are tried, and

Senior. You would have convicted Vidil* of that some are convicted, who are innocent of the the attempt to murder? crime of which they are accused. But I also believe that almost all those who are wrongfully accused, and that all those who are wrongfully convicted, belong to the criminal class. An honest man always proves an alibi, but a professional thief is constantly employed in some breach of the law. If, from a mistake of identity, the great cause of erroneous prosecutions, he is accused of some crime of which he is not guilty, he too can prove an alibi; but that very alibi would show his participation in some other crime. He prefers the risk of a false conviction to the certainty of a true one. He will not defend himself against the charge of having stolen A.'s sheep, by showing that at that very time he was breaking into B.'s house.

Erle. I think not. I recollect no case of an execution for a mere attempt. He would have been sentenced to penal servitude for twenty-five years, which means twelve and a half years if the prisoner conducts himself well. His present sentence of one year's hard labor is severer while it lasts. The men in penal servitude live apart, each in his cell, and employed in trades. Great importance is attached to keeping up their weight. As their work does not promote the development of muscle, their weight is retained by fattening them. I saw a set of convicts at Dartmoor. Every one of them had thrown out a bow window. Nothing could look more absurd than a line of sixty or seventy men, each adorned by this prominence. Its reformatory effects, however, will be great. They will be guilty of none of the thefts which require agility.

Senior. You have pleaded the cause of juries in criminal cases. What do you say to them in civil causes?

Erle. Even in civil causes I prefer juries to judges. The indifference to real and unreal, and so to right and wrong, which besets a barrister bred in the world of words rather than of facts,

Senior. I am not sure of that; Falstaff was often follows him to the bench. Besides this, I a highwayman.

Erle. Yes; but he admitted that he could not rob a-foot, and no one can rob now on horseback.

have known judges, bred in the world of legal studies, who delighted in nothing so much as in a strong decision. Now, a strong decision is a decision opposed to common sense and to com

Senior. And how will Vidil's punishment dif- mon convenience. fer from penal servitude?

Erle. It will not be separate, he will be mixed with common felons. He will probably have to sleep on an inclined plane fifty or sixty feet long, and six feet broad, running along the side of the room, among twenty or thirty other convicts, those on each side of him separated from him by only an imaginary line. He will have to work with them and live with them. To a man of any refinement, and he must have some, it is a horrible sentence. And think what will be his position when he is released! I had much rather be hanged.

* The Baron de Vidil made an attack upon his son with a loaded whip while they were riding together in a lane near Orleans House, Twickenham. The Baron alleged that his son's injuries were caused by an accident on the road. In his deposition the boy said that his fa

ther had struck him twice on the head; at the police examination, however, he refused to give any information tending to criminate his father. Immediately after the occurrence, the Baron fled to Paris, where he was apprehended and tried. As the son still refused to give any evidence against his father, the jury could find the prisoner guilty only of unlawfully wounding. The Baron was sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment with hard

labor.-ED.

Senior. Such, for instance, as Lord Eldon's; that if a book be mischievous you have a right to pirate it.

Erle. A great part of the law made by judges consists of strong decisions, and as one strong decision is a precedent for another a little stronger, the law at last on some matters becomes such a nuisance that equity intervenes, or an act of Parliament must be passed to sweep the whole away.

Senior. As was done as to the construction of wills.

I am told that Cockburn regrets that he has changed the bar for the bench.

Erle. So do not I. Both are laborious, and both are anxious; but the labor of the bar to a man in great practice is overwhelming. My great delight is my farm at Liphook. I can not explain to you the soothing influence of agricultural occupation. As soon as I get there, I run to look at my colts and my calves, and my other stock, even my pigs. I care much more about my turnips, which are of no real value, than about my salary. When I am going away I get up an hour earlier to go round the farm once more.

Senior. I have no doubt that farming is an

agreeable and interesting amusement; but is it ecessors, and, great as he is, has not equaled, or not an expensive one?

Erle. I do not think that my farm costs me more than two hundred pounds a year. It is the money which I spend most profitably.

FRENCH AND ENGLISH PAINTERS.

September 2d (1861).—Baron Marochetti* is at Évian, on the opposite side of the lake [Gene

va]. Steamers cross in half an hour, three and four times a day. He breakfasted with us this morning, bringing with him a Captain Lutyens, an amateur artist of such excellence that Maro

nearly equaled them. In his best works there
is always something wanting.
In his portrait,
for instance, of Miss S, an admirable picture
-perhaps the best that he ever painted-the
coloring is defective. It is too flat, and the figure
is too thin. He is not fond of portrait-painting,
but he would be unwise if he were to give it up.
and to keep him from deviating, in search of
It is necessary both to keep him from mannerism
beauty, from real nature. At one time he painted
much without models, and his figures, as you may
see on the walls of Lord Somers's house in Carl-

ton Terrace, lost reality and individuality. But,
with all his faults, he is really a great painter-
the greatest that you have had since Gainsbor-

chetti has advised him to quit the army and take
to painting as a profession; and I think that he
will do so. We talked of the present French
school. Marochetti surprised me by not admit-ough and Sir Joshua.
ting Delaroche or Scheffer to be a great painter.

Marochetti. They were both of them men of great talent and industry, and, having taken to painting, they succeeded; but they would have done anything else as well, and many things better. They had that which can be attained by labor-such as accuracy of outline, proportion, perspective; and they had what is given by intelligence. Each of them conceives well, and represents well his story. Scheffer's "Mignon" tells her whole history. But the power of coloring is not to be got by labor or by imitation. It is a gift from Nature to those whom she intends to be painters, and neither Delaroche nor Scheffer had it.

Senior. Whom do you put at the head of the

French school?

Marochetti. Delacroix, and perhaps Ingres and Meissonier.

Senior. And whom at the head of the Eng

lish?

Marochetti. Landseer and Watts. Landseer I put first, because, though his line is not the highest, he has attained the highest rank in it, and because he owes so little to others. If Watts had not seen the great Italian painters, he would not have been what he is. If neither Rubens, nor Paul Potter, nor Schnyders had lived, Landseer would probably have painted as well as he does. Landseer borrows nothing from them, indeed has no motive to borrow from them, for they have nothing so good as what is his own.

Watts has taken much from his great pred

* Baron Charles Marochetti, the well-known sculptor, was born in 1805, at Turin, of naturalized French par

ents.

He studied and resided in France until the Revolution of 1848, when he came over to England and obtained great success. The statue of Richard Coeur de Lion, in front of the Houses of Parliament, is by him, as well as the altar-piece in the Church of La Madeleine in Paris. His chef-d'œuvre is the statue of Emmanuel Philibert at Turin. He died in December, 1867.-ED. VOL. VIII.-34

Senior. Do you not rank Callcott and Stanfield high?

Marochetti. Calcott is a pretty painter of still-life, but he is feeble. He will scarcely live. Stanfield belongs to the French school of landscape-painters, and there are several that are superior to him-Gudin, for instance.

Senior. What do you say of Martin ?

Marochetii. That he is a man of genius,

ruined by mannerism, and by neglect of the de-
tails of his art. He never took the pains neces-
sary to know how to paint the human figure.
He is a great master of perspective. He is a
great architect of the Egyptian school. His
imagination revels in miles of colonnades, and
sphinxes, and colossi. The boldness, the origi-
nality, the vastness, and the real merit of his
Belshazzar's Feast" delighted and almost awed
the spectators.
But, when it was found that
resembled nothing else, they ceased to interest.
every Martin resembled every other Martin, and
They came to be considered as tricks, as is the
usual result of mannerism when pushed, as Mar-

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LAMARTINE ON PUBLIC SPEAKING. Lamartine. I have addressed different audiences, but the only one worth talking to c'est la In an assembly your foule (the multitude). friends, or rather your party, treat the debate as a game, yourself as a piece, or as a pawn, and your speech as a move; your adversaries think of you only as an enemy, and of your speech only as a thing to be refuted. The rest, the impartial part of the audience, go to the debate as they go to an opera, consider your speech as a work of art offered to them as a subject for criticism, and praise you or blame you as they have been bored or amused. No one changes his opinion; no one is convinced; no one is even moved. The best speech does not alter a vote. It merely renders the vote, which every hearer

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