displayed a yellowish brightness, which darted forth in fiery coruscations or globules from the interior of the eyes. Michaelis relates, that, for many years, during the interval between day and night, and during the night itself, he observed irradiations of light issuing from his eyes, sometimes so strong that he could read the smallest print.

Without venturing to place in the above category the assertion of another naturalist, that "a person is said to have recognised a robber by the light produced by a blow on the eye," and being strongly of opinion that the effects described by so respectable an authority as Michaelis proceeded from discase, we would remark that the other authorities speak, not from experiment, but from cursory observation and the reports of others. That the eyes of the cat do shine in the dark is to a certain extent true; but we have to inquire whether by dark is meant the entire absence of light; and it will be found that the solution of this question will dispose of several assertions and theories which, during many centuries, have perplexed this subject.

A few years ago, Dr. Karl Ludwig Esser published in Karsten's Archives the results of an experimental inquiry on the luminous appearance of the eyes of the cat and other animals; and about the same time M. Prevost also produced a Memoir on the same subject. Dr. Esser is careful to distinguish between such animals as really evolve light, and those which only reflect it. Among the former he recognises the myriads of medusa which often light up large tracts of the ocean's surface; and luminous insects. He also admits that among the higher animals a real phosphorescence often occurs: such is the light emitted by the eggs of the lizard; the luminousness of the perspired matter in men and horses; the electrical light evolved by stroking the back of the cat, &c. He next proceeds to inquire whether light is actually evolved from the eyes. Having brought a cat into a half-darkened room, he observed from a certain direction, that the eyes of the animal, when opposite the window, sparkled very brilliantly, but that in other positions the light suddenly vanished. On causing the cat to be held so as to exhibit the light, and then gradually darkening the room, the light entirely disappeared when the room was made quite dark.

In another experiment, a cat was placed opposite the window in a darkened room. A few rays were permitted to enter, so as to fall upon the face of the animal, while the observer stood with his back to the window. The light of the cat's eyes was of a beautiful green colour, but it vanished entirely when the observer turned his head, or the cat her eyes, a little on one side. By adjusting the light, one or both of the cat's eyes were made to shine. In proportion as the pupil was dilated the eyes were brilliant. By suddenly admitting a strong glare of light into the room, the pupil contracted, and then suddenly darkening the room, the eye exhibited a small round luminous point, which enlarged as the pupil dilated.

The eyes of the cat sparkle most when the animal is in a lurking position, or in a state of irritation. In deed, the eyes of all animals, as well as of man, appear brighter during rage than in a quiescent state; a circumstance not forgotten by Collins, in his Ode on the Passions, where he describes Anger, "his eyes on fire." It is said to arise from an increased secretion of the lachrymal fluid on the surface of the eye, by which fluid the light is rendered more brilliant in consequence of increased reflection.

Dr. Esser examined the eyes of cats while under the influence of rage and irritation; as also while they were pleased and enjoying their food, and while they were perfectly tranquil; but, in places absolutely dark, he never discovered the slightest trace of light in the eyes of these animals, and he has no doubt that in all cases where cats' eyes have been seen to shine in dark places, such as a cellar, that light penetrated through some

window or aperture, and fell upon the eyes of the animal as it turned towards the opening, while the observer was favourably situated to obtain a view of the reflection.

To prove more clearly that this light does not depend upon the will of the animal, nor upon its angry passions, experiments were repeated on the head of a dead cat. The sun's rays were admitted through a small aperture, and falling immediately upon the eyes, caused them to glow with a beautiful green light, more vivid even than in the case of a living animal, on account of the increased dilatation of the pupil.

Dr. Esser remarked that black and fox-coloured cats evolved a brighter and more conspicuous light than grey and white ones; that the eyes of dogs, horses, sheep, and hares, shone in dimly lighted places, but that the light differed in colour and intensity in the different animals. He also mentions the case of an Albino whose eyes were luminous; he suffered so much from the dread of light that he never ventured abroad except in twilight.

On inquiring into the cause of this luminous appearance, Dr. Esser dissected the eyes of cats, and exposed them to a small regulated amount of light after having removed different portions. The light was not diminished by the removal of the cornea, but only changed in colour. The light still continued after the iris was displaced; but on taking away the crystalline lens it was greatly diminished both in intensity and colour. "It now struck me," says our ingenious authority, "that the tapetum in the hinder part of the eye must form a spot which caused the reflection of the incident rays of light, and thus produced the shining. This was the more probable, as the light of the eye now seemed to emanate from a single spot. After taking away the vitreous humour, I observed that in reality the entire want of the pigment in the hinder part of the choroid coat, where the optic nerve enters, formed a greenish silver-coloured changeable oblong spot, which was not symmetrical, but surrounded the optic nerve in such a manner that the greater part was above, and only a small part below it, and, therefore, the greater part lay beyond the axis of vision. It is this spot, therefore, that produces the reflection of the incident rays of light, and beyond all doubt, according to its tint, contributes to the different colouring of the light, to which, nevertheless, the remaining parts of the eye, when conjoined, seem to be no less necessary."

The above quotation will be more intelligible if, without entering into the anatomy of the eye, it be simply explained that the interior of the eye is coated with a black pigment, which has the same effect as the black colour given to the inner surfaces of optical instruments; it absorbs any rays of light which may be reflected within the eye, and prevents them from being thrown again upon the retina, so as to interfere with the distinctness of the images formed upon it. The retina is very transparent, and if the surface behind it, instead of being of a dark colour, were capable of reflecting light, the luminous rays which had already acted on the retina, would be reflected back again through it, and not only dazzle from excess of light, but also confuse and render indistinct the images formed on the retina. Now, in the case of the cat and many other nocturnal animals, this black pigment, or a portion of it, is wanting; and those parts of the eye from which it is absent, having either a white or a metallic lustre, are called the tapetum. The smallest portion of light entering the eye is reflected by it as by a concave mirror; and hence it is that the eyes of animals provided with this structure are luminous in a very faint light. Many animals which hunt their prey by night are furnished with a white, instead of a black pigment, whereby the action of the luminous rays upon the retina is increased.

Dr. Müller enumerates the animals in which the tapetum is present, and whose eyes, consequently, shine in the dark; these are the ruminating animals, the

In yonder cot, along whose mouldering walls
In many a fold the mantling woodbine falls,
The village matron kept her little school,
Gentle of heart, yet knowing well to rule;
Staid was the dame, and modest was her mien;
Her garb was coarse, yet whole, and nicely clean:

Her neatly-bordered cap, as lily fair,

Beneath her chin was pinned with decent care;

And pendant ruffles, of the whitest lawn,

Of ancient make, her elbows did adorn.

Faint with old age, and dim were grown her eyes

A pair of spectacles their want supplies;

These does she guard secure, in leathern case,
From thoughtless wights, in some unweeted place.

Here first I entered, though with toil and pain,

The lowly vestibule of learning's fane;
Entered with pain, yet soon I found the way,
Though sometimes toilsome, many a sweet display.

Much did I grieve on that ill-fated morn,

When I was first to school reluctant borne;
Severe I thought the dame, though oft she tried

To soothe iny swelling spirits when I sighed;

And oft, when harshly she reproved, I wept,

To my lone corner broken-hearted crept,

And thought of tender home, where anger never kept.

But soon inured to alphabetic toils,

Alert I met the dame with jocund smiles;

First at the form, my task for ever true,

A little favourite rapidly grew:

And oft she stroked my head with fond delight,
Held me a pattern to the dunce's sight;
And as she gave my diligence her praise,
Talked of the honours of my future days.

'Neath yonder elm, that stands upon the moor,
When the clock spoke the hour of labour o'er,
What clamorous throngs, what happy groups were seen,
In various postures scattering o'er the green!
Some shoot the marble, others join the chase
Of self-made stag, or run the emulous race;
While others, seated on the dappled grass,
With doleful tales the light-winged minutes pass.
Well I remember how, with gesture starched,
A band of soldiers, oft with pride we marched;
For banners, to a tall ash we did bind
Our handkerchiefs, flapping to the whistling wind;
And for our warlike arms, we sought the mead,
And guns and spears we made of brittle reed;
Then, in uncouth array, our feats to crown,
We stormed some ruined pigsty for a town.

Pleased with our gay disports, the dame was wont
To set her wheel before the cottage front,
And o'er her spectacles would often peer,
To view our gambols and our boyish geer.

Still as she looked, her wheel kept turning round,
With its beloved monotony of sound.

When tired with play, we'd set us by her side,
(For out of school she never knew to chide,)
And wonder at her skill-well known to fame---
For who could match in spinning with the dame?
Her sheets, her linen, which she showed with pride
To strangers, still her thrift'ness testified;
Though we poor wights did wonder much, in troth,
How 'twas her spinning manufactured cloth.-H. K. White.

THE SPINSTER'S HEIR.1

BY MRS. ABDY.

Six months passed away: Miss Paulet's neighbours and friends were gazing with more grief than neighbours and friends usually feel on such occasions, on her funeral procession passing through the village; she had been useful and agreeable to many, dangerous and annoying to

disconcerted by his reply, that "the conduct of the old gentleman proved that, at all events, the tooth in question was not a wise tooth !"

Mr. Carleton added not even a poney or a page to his establishment; his second courses had not one extra dish, nor did he give away a blanket or a half-crown more than he had been wont to do. It was evident that

Miss Paulet's two thousand a-year were destined to join company with his savings in the Three per Cent. Connone; and the little world in which she lived had not even sols, there to gather, like a gigantic snow-ball, for the the excitement of pitying her for having died of a bro- future benefit, probably, of some hospital or alms-house; ken heart, from the misconduct of her nephew, for Miss the village fair ones became indignant; they began to Paulet had fallen a prey to a fever which had been pre- pity Vernon; and the younger ladies, particularly, did valent in the village, and had proved fatal to several not scruple to assert that "it was better to squander of its inhabitants. Vernon was the chief mourner, and money than to hoard it." All who knew Vernon's truly did he mourn. How ardently did he wish that he impetuosity and irritability predicted that he must be violently enraged at the late events, expressing himself could recall the dear friend whose feelings he had so often indignantly of the dead, and vowing vengeance against wounded, and whose trust he had so often deceived! how the living; but all were in the wrong. Vernon was many resolutions of reformation did he make! how humbled, not angered, at his disinheritance; he acquifervently did he promise to himself that not a spare five-esced in the justice of his sentence, and, although he pound note of the spinster's property should ever find its way to the rouge et noir table in Regent-street! Alas, poor Vernon his promise was pretty sure to be kept; the wheel of fortune, although he did not know it, was turning round with him, and spare five-pound notes were, from this time, to be rare and unlooked-for guests in his exchequer.

I have just said that the village sadly wanted some excitement on the subject of Miss Paulet's death: that want was soon supplied. After the funeral, the will was read; small legacies were left to friends and servants, and sums of trifling value to the charitable institutions of the neighbourhood. Vernon's name was not mentioned. Vernon was disinherited! The whole property of Miss Paulet, after the above-mentioned legacies were paid, was bequeathed to her sole executor and residuary legatee.

"And who," inquired fifty voices, "was this favoured person? Had Miss Paulet an unknown lover, or had she been privately married?"

By no means; Miss Paulet's sole executor and residuary legatee was well known to the whole village. Mr. Carleton was the distinguished individual; Mr. Carleton was "The Spinster's Heir!"

This news excited various feelings. Some commiserated Vernon, and some thought he was rightly served. Mr. Anson congratulated himself that he had forbidden him to enter his house, and told Helena how rejoiced she ought to be at her escape; but Helena was in no mood to be rejoiced at any such thing; although generally very mild and charitable, she violated the good old rule of never finding fault with the dead, and censured the unforgiving and barbarous disposition of Miss Paulet in very explicit terms. To make matters even, however, she expressed herself with still more severity of the living, and declared her firm conviction that Mr. Carleton must have worked on the mind of the spinster by a series of the most artful and unwarrantable calumnies, before he could have prevailed upon her thus to injure and wrong her beloved nephew. The ladies of the village, in general, were, however, very indulgent to Mr. Carleton; they surmised that hitherto he might not have considered himself rich enough to marry, but that the coffers of Miss Paulet would put him quite at ease as to the ways and means of providing for a family. He was certainly rather waning in years, but the leading lady of the place, who was the mother of eight unmarried daughters all turned of thirty, avowed that "she considered gentlemen old at no age; and that she had an uncle who cut a tooth, married a young wife, and had the hooping cough in his seventieth year!" This anecdote she took occasion to mention before Mr. Carleton, but was somewhat

(1) Concluded from page 234.

66

avoided all communication with Mr. Carleton, he did
not give way to any bitter observations concerning him.
placed beyond my reach; it is therefore immaterial to
My aunt's property," he said, "has deservedly been
me on whom she has bestowed it; she has, at all events,
given it to one who will not employ it in any disgraceful
manner." Neither would Vernon suffer any disrespect-
ful mention of Miss Paulet from another; and, when
one of his gay companions condoled with him for
suffering under a calamity alluded to by Lord Byron,
"A bad old woman, making a worse will,

Which leaves you minus of the cash you counted," some portion of Vernon's former spirit flashed forth, and he indignantly declared that "he would never listen to a slighting word applied to one whose long and unwearied kindness to him had been repaid with such reckless ingratitude."

Indeed, Vernon's gay companions were now anything but acceptable to him; his mind was sobered by misfortune, and his heart was touched by penitence; he resolved to reform. This he had often done before, but he now prayed to his Almighty Father to give him strength to persevere in his resolutions, and his prayer was mercifully heard and answered. Mr. Dornford proved to him a true and kind friend; he counselled him to exertion, industry, and study. Vernon still kept his promise to his friends, that "he would read as much or as little as he pleased;" but his pleasure now was to pass many hours in reading and reflection. London was seidom visited by him, and his own peculiar village not at all. Miss Paulet had defrayed all his out-standing debts a short time before her death; he added no new ones to the amount. His fine and comprehensive mind, devoted entirely to the intricacies of his profession, enabled him to surpass all the expectations even of the hopeful Mr. Dornford; he became useful, valuable, respected; his simple wants were more than supplied from his own labours. The remembrance of Helena Anson prevented him from wasting any of his hours on the contemplation of bright eyes, slender waists, and silken ringlets. No sonnets and sketches were to be found among his law-books, like poppies among the corn, at once ornamental and injurious to their neighbours; adversity had undone the mischief of prosperity, and Vernon might have been gazed on with approval by the shades of his father and grandfather. He was an indefatigable lawyer's clerk !

Seven years had elapsed; Mr. Dornford was good and kind-hearted as ever, but no longer the active and buoyant man of whom Vernon once said "he should make it a principle of duty never to interfere with him, since he could do so very well without his assistance." Mr. Dornford had suffered a stroke of paralysis, and was earnestly warned by his physicians to avoid any exertion which might tend to accelerate a return of it. These injunc