iron in a high pressure engine, or in a first-rate warfrigate, depends on the caution exercised by some plain Welsh or Lancashire workman. The holes through which the blast-pipes conduct the air into the furnace are usually about four inches in diameter; these are called twyers, (pronounced tweers,) the number of which varies, most furnaces having three, and some but one. The effects produced on the metal by the heat may be described as follows. The oxygen is expelled from the iron, and unites with the carbon of the coke, forming carbonic oxide; the carbon combines also with the fluid metal, and the lime with the earth of the ore, upon which the pure iron falls through the fuel to the hearth. Thus the operation of smelting is in reality nothing but a great chemical process, by which the various substances in the furnace are brought into new relationships. When the iron has been reduced to the proper state, it is let out from the furnace into a trough formed in the sand, called a sow, from which smaller troughs branch off called pigs, and the iron when cooled is therefore called pig-iron. This is the first condition in which iron presents itself to our view, and in this state it is also brought into the market, being classed, according to its qualities, from No. 1, to No. 6. The first three, Nos. 1, 2, 3, are called foundry iron; and the last three, Nos. 4, 5, 6, are styled forge iron; the former being in a state fit for casting, and the latter only adapted for the forge. No. 1 contains much carbon, is soft, and used for ornamental work, such as requires the most delicate moulds. No. 2 contains less carbon than the last mentioned, and does not run to the same degree of fluidity, but will, nevertheless, fill the interstices of moulds when not very fine. No. 3. This is harder than either of the preceding, contains also less carbon, and is fit either for the foundry or the forge. The large parts of machinery are formed from this iron, such as the wheels of engines, cylinders, &c. No. 4. This is classed with forge iron, but as No 3 is sometimes cast and sometimes forged, so is it with No. 4, which is often used for large castings. No. 5. This is called mottled iron, and is never cast, but used in the forge alone. No. 6 contains the least carbon of all pig-iron, and runs so thickly from the furnace that it will hardly flow into the moulds or "pigs." It is so hard that a chisel cannot scratch it, yet its extreme brittleness causes the largest bars to break with a slight blow. The reader will note that the varieties of these six classes of iron arise in some way from the presence or absence of carbon; and thus the same substance which causes the diversities in the vegetable and mineral kingdoms, exerts its hidden power in the molten and boiling iron. The next operation after smelting is refining, by which the metal is still further purified from foreign matters, and especially from the carbon and oxygen yet remaining in the pig-iron. The furnaces, into which the rough pigs are now cast, consist of low oven-like structures, called refineries, having the bottom or hearth formed of fire-bricks, and the sides of cast iron, kept as cool as possible by a stream of water flowing round them. This last precaution is rendered necessary by the intense heat to which these refineries are exposed, which would certainly melt parts of the furnace itself, were not some counteracting agency employed Above such a furnace rises a chimney of considerable diameter, though not more than eighteen or twenty feet high. The intense heat produced suffices to bring the whole of the iron into a proper state for running into the moulds in about two hours: this will give twelve runs in the twenty-four hours; and as such furnaces are kept at work day and night, between seventy and eighty runs will be obtained in a week. When the refining has advanced to the proper point, the liquefied metal is run out through a hole into moulds prepared for the purpose, into which the brilliant stream falls hissing, flashing, and throwing out the most beautiful scintillations. The moulds are placed over cisterns of water, which keep them cool, and chill the boiling iron as it flows over the bottom of the trough. Thus the metal has been passed twice through the fires, once in the smelting furnace, and again in the refineries, being brought in the former from its ore condition, and receiving in the latter process an additional purification. But the work is not yet over; the iron has but reached its second stage: various processes must be passed through before the finished bar-iron appears; and the next operation is one called puddling, by which the metal is further freed from the gases and foreign matter mixed with the ore. The puddling is thus performed: a quantity of the refined iron is put into what is called a reverberatory furnace, in which the flame is confined as in an oven, and forced down upon the surface of the broken metal. In about half an hour, the pieces of iron begin to melt, and are kept stirred about with an instrument, till all is mixed in one fluid mass. This stirring causes the melted metal to part with more of its oxygen and carbon, the escape of which is indicated by the heavings of the liquid iron, as the expanded gases swell the surface when bursting from their fiery prison. After some time the metal is observed to thicken, the particles collect in small lumps, and as the stirring proceeds, the conglomeration goes on till the iron acquires the consistency of thick paste, which enables the puddler to form with his tool five or six roundish masses of half liquid iron. The heat required in the puddling furnace is sometimes so intense as to burn the bottom of the furnace itself, notwithstanding the coating of scoria by which it is protected, and the draught regulator, at the top of a chimney thirty feet high, is frequently red hot. When the soft balls are thoroughly formed, the workman removes them from the furnace with a peculiar kind of gigantic tongs, and places each ball of hot metal under a hammer weighing four or five tons, by the repeated strokes of which the puddled masses are flattened into oblong pieces. The powerful strokes of these massive hammers produce a still further refinement of the iron, by driving out more of the oxydized matter which still clings with tenacity to the metal. A spectator unaccustomed to the phenomena of the iron works, would be disposed to keep at some distance during this "shingling," for the fiery particles shoot in all directions from the glowing balls, and compel the shinglers to wear a protecting dress. The escape of gas is seen by the hissing and flaming of the metal, as the enormous hammers rapidly fall, and seem as if they must necessarily beat every particle of vapour from the iron. When the operation is over, the balls change their names, being called blooms, and are then prepared for further processes, yet necessary to make the iron useful to man. It sometimes happens that a ball has been badly puddled, either through want of attention in the workman, or the badness of the iron employed; in this case it takes the singular name of a "shadrach," a term evidently borrowed from the narrative in Danici of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego Nor is the word so applied inappropriate, for as Shadrach was little affected by the fire through which he had passed, so the in perfectly puddled ball has not been rightly acted upon by the furnace. The man object of puddling is to purify the metal, and thus to render it more fitted for sustaining the tasks to which it must hereafter be subjected in the form of steam-engine cranks or chain cables; and the greatest attention is therefore paid to the operation, The shingling is not quite so important, being chiefly a means of bringing the metal into a more convenient shape for the process called rolling. The agencies now become more visible, for, in the smelting, refining, and | puddling furnaces, the transforming causes are principally chemical; certain substances are separated from others, in which new properties are developed; but all this is veiled in a sort of mystery, and hidden from our inspection. Now begin the more mechanical operations, and we are surrounded by the din of hammers, shears, and engines. The next work is the rolling, or passing the oblong and hammered blocks of iron between rollers of great power. This compression stretches the metal into longer and thinner pieces than could be produced from the strokes of any hammer. When the heavy bars have been drawn through the first pair of rollers, they are subjected to the action of a second pair, placed nearer to each other than the first. A third, and a fourth compression between still closer rollers follow, and thus the iron is gradually drawn out and reduced in thickness by such repeated stretchings. These successive compressions not only render the texture of the iron more compact, but expel more of the oxydized matter, or cinder, as it is called, and thus the rolling performs an important part in the purification of the metal. As another rolling must be noticed at a subsequent stage of the manufacture, we omit a more detailed description of the operation in this place, and proceed to describe the process of cutting the bars into the length required by the workman. The common notion of shearing may suggest many simple operations, but that solid bars of iron can be cut with an ease equal to that with which a child divides a piece of cotton with a pair of scissors, occurs to the imagination of few persons. A cutting instrument is moved up and down by a steam engine, and in its descent divides the bar with all the facility characteristic of power. The force of the stroke is, nevertheless, so great, that unless the workman is cautious in placing the bars properly beneath the shears, a severe wrench will be sustained by the man, caused by the powerful impulse of the shears upon the bars. But this operation is only the prelude to others of an important character, to which we must now advert. The last remark may induce some readers to exclaim, "What is the obstinate metal yet unsubdued! are more fires and giant-like pressures still needful to bind the stubborn mass to the purposes of man? Yes, reader: the powers of mighty engines and the energies of intense furnaces must again be employed ere the iren will yield its latent riches, or develope its hidden, powers. The bars which have just been rolled cannot be sold; the manufacturer prizes them not; and human skill must further combine with human labour to mould the stubborn pieces into marketable iron. The rolled, bars are at present so full of defects that no smith could use them for the commonest purposes, and, though some degree of malleability and toughness have been gained, more finish is requisite. What then is next to be done! Another furnace is now called into operation, called the heating or balling furnace, in which the iron is brought to a high temperature to fit it for welding. In the previous furnaces the metal was liquefied, but no such result is here allowed, as the object desired is to soften and not melt. The manufacturer wishes several of the rough bars to be sufficiently softened for welding together, so that two or more may be compressed into one by rolling. But to effect this the bars must be softened, and put through the rollers before they become ecld. ployed to detect the proper moment when the heating has been carried to the safety point. The importance of seizing the exact instant may be estimated from the fact, that a delay of two or three minutes will suffice to deteriorate whole piles of iron, and render them unfit for sale. Thus This heating process causes the metal to lose considerably in weight, as a great bulk of impure substance, in other words the oxide, called cinder, is detached from the bars, and flows down to the bottom of the furnace. The metal has now by numerous stages been reduced to a condition capable of freely parting with the oxydized substance, without the necessity of using machines for its separation. The oxide, accordingly, first collects on the surface of the heated bars, over which it forms a kind of mineral glaze, protecting them from the too high temperature of the furnace. the very substance which the manufacturer has been so long endeavouring to expel from his metal, now performs, as it is finally leaving the iron, a beneficial service, by securing the piles from the scorching effects of intense heat. So important is the protection afforded by the covering of melted oxide, that, when one part of a ber accidentally loses this coating, the iron is destroyed by burning. The quality of the metal as it leaves the heating furnace is of the greatest importance, for this is properly the last stage in the purification; whatever operations yet remain, being more adapted to give soundness and toughness, than impart purity. Thus, at last, the rough mass of ore appears in the shape of a valuable piece of iron. from which the smith may procure all the various articles demanded by the numerous pursuits of men. Not that even this iron is perfectly pure:-such a piece of metal has probably never been made, and will, perhaps, for ever elude all the skill of the modern matufacturer: but it is sufficiently freed from carlon and oxygen to become available for welding purposes. What is the exact difference, a reader may ask, 1 :tween this malleable bar-iren, as it leaves the heating furnace, and the pig-iron, as it ran into the moulds after the smelting! The proposer of this question does but repeat the inquiry which has exercised the attention of the most scientific chemists; indeed there are few questions ennected with manufactures, more puzzling than that proposed, or to the answering of which our amount of knowledge is less fittel. The rec properties of the pig-iron marked No. 6, are totally dif ferent from those of the finished bar-iron: the latterling capable of sustaining the blows of hammers, and ad mitting of various operations requiring malleability; but the former so brittle, that a stroke will shiver 'he largest pieces Notwithstanding this diversity, the chemical qualities of the two are nearly the same; both having but a small proportion of carbon. Thus we have the singular case of two pieces of metal, possessing nearly the same constituent qualities, and yet exhibiting the most diverse mechanical properties. The more "pig" resembles bar-iron in its chemical nature, the greater is the diversity in other respects: the more earen there is in pig-iron the more tough it becomes, whilst bar-iron decreases in brittleness with the loss of its carbon; thus exhibiting a singular contradiction between the internal structure and external qualities, and proving how little we can sometimes reason from a mere chemical analysis of substances. The last step in the manufacture of iron is the roling, which brings the bars to their finished state. The great object of the workman in this operation is to weld several bars into one, and so improve the texture of the iron by such amalgamation of the metallic A pile of the rough bars is placed in a furnace, where they remain till brought to the heat required. If they are removed from the furnace too soon, the bars will not be sufficiently softened to admit of that union offres as shall ensure the greatest possible strength in several into one which it is the object of the manfacturer to effect: and, if they are too long exposed to the heat, seme portion will be burned, and so rendered brittle. hence, the great care of the workman is em-¡ the bar. The action of the roller in this combining several pieces of iron may be compared to that of a hammer in the common smithers, where two bars of heated iron are frequently beaten into one. The hammer, " ין however, acts with far less efficiency on the small iron of the blacksmith's workshop, than the rollers upon the heated bars taken from the furnace; for the pressure of the roller is uniform, and the force constant, but the hammer only acts at the instant of the stroke, which is not always given with the same power, and therefore not unvarying in its effects. These successively diminishing rollers resemble the drawing machines in the cotton manufacture, by which the thread is gradually extended to the required fineness; and thus, in two such opposite processes, we perceive the application of the same mechanical principle to effect a similar result, either in a bar of iron or thread of cotton. As the bars are passed through the rollers in a heated state, the wear and tear of the hard iron rolls themselves is very great; nor is this surprising when we recollect the force with which they compress the bars, and the great heat of the latter, which must inevitably tend to wear away the surface of the rolls. Nor does the case-hardening of these altogether prevent the effects of such powerful friction, for the number of revolutions made by the small rolls in a minute amounts to about two hundred and forty, which cannot but rub away continually a portion from the surface of the hardest rollers. The various details connected with the manufacture of boiler plates, nail rods, sheet iron, and other divisions of this extensive trade, need not here detain the reader. It may, however, be necessary to state that the rods from which nails are made, are cut into long slits by steel cutters as they are rolled, and thus a heap of rods sufficient for millions of nails is quickly slit by this peculiar machinery. Nor must we attach little importance to this branch of the iron trade; for the making of nails engages the attention of numerous scientific men, and has occupied the investigation of engineers, who have taken out patents for improved methods of manufacture. The boiler plate is, in its first shape, a thick square piece of iron, and this being brought to the proper degree of heat is passed once between the rollers, which are then brought nearer to cach other by the action of a powerful screw, and the plate is pressed a second time, after which the rollers are again brought nearer, and the plate compressed a third time; thus the operation is repeated till the plate is reduced to the state required. (To be continued.) suspected that the good farmer, who seemed so kindly disposed towards me, had sent me a basket of provisions, but I could not comprehend his modesty in sending them before daylight. When I entered the sitting-room, I found the two girls standing by the table on which the box was placed. It was carefully sealed up; the address to me written in large letters; and two large round holes neatly cut in the top. I lifted it up and found it tolerably heavy. With Jenny's assistance, I gently raised the lid, for I had been desired to handle it carefully, and, on removing a fine white cloth which covered everything, there lay No, it is impossible for words to describe our astonishment! "Merciful God!" we all exclaimed as with one voice. There lay a young child, some six or eight weeks old, dressed most beautifully in white with pink ribbons, fast asleep; its little head rested upon a pillow covered with white satin, and its cap and even the coverlet were trimmed with the finest lace. We stood gazing on it for some time in speechless amazement: at last, Polly burst into a kind of nervous laugh, exclaiming, "What is to be done with it? this is no bishop's mitre!" Jane, gently stroking the cheek of the sleeping infant, said with an expression of the softest pity, "Poor little creature! thou hast no mother, or perhaps the wretched mother dare not own thee! Gracious God, to desert such a lovely helpless little being! Sleep on, poor forsaken innocent! Thy parents, perhaps, would tremble with shame and anguish at thy presence, but sleep in peace, we will not reject thee well have they chosen, I will be thy mother!" As Jane spoke, two large tears rolled slowly down her cheeks, and, taking the sweet tender-hearted maiden in my arms, I pressed her to my heart, and said, "Let it be so. Be a mother to this babe. Those who are themselves the victims of misfortune, should assist their fellow-sufferers. God proves our faith: or rather, it is because he knows it, that he has sent us this poor deserted little one. True, we scarce know ourselves where to look for food on the morrow, but he who has sent the desolate orphan to us for refuge, will give us the means of supporting it." Thus our determination was soon taken, long ere the babe awoke from its soft and gentle slumbers. It was in vain that we exhausted ourselves in conjectures concerning its parents, who must know us, as the box was directed to me. Unluckily, Polly could tell us nothing further of the man who brought it to the door. And now, whilst I again read over my sermon for the new SOME PASSAGES FROM THE JOURNAL OF year, "On the wonderful Providence of the Almighty," A WILTSHIRE CURATE.1 my daughters commenced an interesting conversation on the measures to be taken for the comfort and wellJanuary 1, 1765.— This year has commenced with a most extraordinary and unheard-of event. As early as being of the little stranger. Polly's childish joy was six o'clock this morning, when I was still in bed, myself felt as if the new year had commenced by a excessive, but Jane was serious and deeply agitated. I reflecting on the sermon I am to preach to-day, I heard miracle, and perhaps it was a superstitious feela sharp knock at the door. Polly, who was already ing down stairs, hastened to open it, and found a respect-assist me in my deep distress. I cannot express what a --as if the child were a guardian angel, sent to able looking man with a large box under his arm, weight seemed taken off my heart. I felt inexpressibly which he gave to her with these words.-"Mr. (the foolish girl did not catch the name,) "Mr. happy and consoled. sends this box to the clergyman, and entreats him to take the greatest care of its contents." of my sacred office, tired and exhausted. The muddy The same evening.—I returned from the performance road which I had to traverse for many miles was nearly Polly, though greatly astonished, took the box with-impassable, and I reached home fatigued and dispirited. out hesitation, and the bearer instantly disappeared. Polly knocked gently at my door to ascertain whether I was awake. I desired her to come in, when she wished me a happy new year, and added laughing, "See, dear father! my dream has come true; this must be the bishop's mitre." She then presented the new year's gift which had just been brought for me, but I regretted she had not inquired more particularly the name of the unknown giver. While she was gone to light the fire, and to call Jane, I rose and dressed myself. I do not deny that I was burning with curiosity, for hitherto, it must be owned, the presents to the curate of Cricklade on new year's day had been few and insignificant. I (1) Continued from page 22. But many blessings awaited me; the warm and comfortable room, the cheerful welcome of my daughters: they had prepared supper for me, and the almost forgotten luxury of a bottle of wine, a new year's gift from strength. But nothing gave me more pleasure than some kind but unknown hand, soon restored my failing the sight of the laughing babe, crowing and kicking in Jenny's arms. Polly showed me the little bed she had made up for our nursling, and then pointed to the quantities of linen and clothing of the finest materials, which were placed with it in the box, and then gave into my hands a letter addressed to me, which was found at the child's feet. Curious to learn something of the birth of my unex pected visitor, I hastily tore open the packet. It contained a rouleau of twenty guineas, and a letter which ran thus "Impressed with the fullest confidence in your pious and humane feelings, the unfortunate parents of this beloved babe have committed him to your care. He is already christened; his name is Alfred. The first payment for the expenses he will entail upon you accompanies this, and the same sum will reach you punctually every three months. We entreat you to take this innocent creature under your protection, and we earnestly recommend him to the tender care of your sweet daughter Jane." When I had read the letter aloud, Polly jumped up, and, clapping her hands with delight, exclaimed, "There! is not that as good as the bishop's mitre? Good heavens, how rich we are! Now we shall do well enough without the curacy." But I was not quite so well pleased, and I wished the letter had named the "sweet Polly," also. We read it over twenty different times. We could scarcely believe our eyes at the sight of so much gold. Here was indeed a new-year's gift! I found myself suddenly relieved from my bitterest anxieties for the future. But in what a strange incomprehensible manner! In vain I repassed in my mind every individual who, from their station, or other circumstances, might find themselves under the necessity of temporarily concealing the birth of a child, or who would offer such generous payment for an act of Christian charity. It was quite hopeless! I could discover no one: and yet the parents must have been thoroughly acquainted with me and mine. Wonderful are the ways of Providence! January 2d.-Fortune overpowers me with its favours! This morning I received another packet by the post. This time it really was a letter from Fleetman, enclosing the sum of twelve Pounds. This is too much for each shilling he has repaid me twenty. He must have been wonderfully successful; indeed he tells me so. I know not how to express my thanks to him, for he has unluckily omitted to tell me where to direct to him. God grant that this influx of riches may not elate me too much. I now begin to hope that I may in time be enabled to pay honourably Col. Brooke's debt to Withell. Nothing could equal the delight of my daughters when I told them of Fleetman's letter. I do think he has bewitched them: Jane turned as red as fire, and Polly ran laughing up to her, and put her two hands before her sister's face. Jane really seemed quite angry with the foolish child. I read the letter to them, though with some embarrassment, for the young man is an enthusiast; his expressions are much more flattering than I deserve; indeed he exaggerates every feeling. Even what he says of my dear Jane appears to me too strongly expressed. I really pitied the confusion of the poor modest girl while I read. I hardly dared raise my eyes to her face. The passage which concerns her certainly is very remarkable; it runs thus,- "When I left your happy home, I felt, Sir, as if I once more abandoned my father's house, to roam through a world which was a desert to me. I never, during my whole life, shall forget you, or the happiness I experienced during those few short hours. I ever see you before my eyes, rich in your poverty, rich in Christian humility, rich in your patriarchal simplicity and elevation of soul; and the merry, charming, fascinating Polly; and Jane, what words can describe her, what term can be applied to her, whose presence purifies and ennobles every earthly object? The moment in which she presented me with the money, will be eternally present to my memory; eternally shall I remember your kind assistance, and the sweet words of consolation which fell from her lips. Do not be astonished - I have still those twelve shillings; I would not change them for a thousand golden guineas! I trust soon to be able to open my heart to you. Never in my whole life have I felt so happy or so miserable as I do at present. I entreat you to offer my grateful respects to your lovely daughters, if I am fortunate enough still to retain a place in their memory." It appears from this letter that he has some intention of returning to Cricklade: I hope he will; I should then be able to thank him in person. The excess of his gratitude has, perhaps, induced the young man to give me all he possesses in the world, merely because I assisted him in a moment of distress, by a loan which certainly comprised half the ready money I then possessed. This would annoy me greatly; he appears à thoughtless youth, but generous and warm-hearted. Little Alfred improves delightfully with us. Jane, like a young mother, scarcely lets him out of her arms; he smiles at her, and seems already to know her. The girls manage the little stranger far better than I could have anticipated. He is really a fine creature, and looks quite beautiful, as he lies in his little cradle, close to Jenny's bed, who, like his guardian angel, watches day and night over her adopted son. January 3d.-To-day, the new curate, Mr. Bleching, arrived at the inn, and sent for me. I went immediately, and was received very courteously. He announced to me that he was to be my successor in the curacy; that he wished, if not disagreeable to me, to enter upon the duties of his office as soon as possible; but that I might continue to inhabit the parsonage till Easter, as he had found a lodging which he could occupy for the present. I replied that I should be happy to give up the entire duty to him immediately, as I should then be more at liberty to exert myself to find another employment. I only wished to preach a farewell sermon to that congregation who had for so many years listened to my earnest endeavours to explain and preach the word of God. It was arranged that he should come in the afternoon, and examine the state of the parsonage-house. His young wife accompanied him. She appeared rather proud and disdainful, and I suppose comes of a very great family, for nothing in the whole house would please her, and she scarcely deigned to take the slightest notice of iny daughters. When she saw little Alfred in his cradle, she turned suddenly round to Jane, and said, "What, are you married?" Jenny became crimson, and shaking her head, replied in the negative, but with so much embarrassment, that I was forced to come to the poor girl's assistance. Mrs. Bleching listened to my story with intense curiosity, then shrugged up her shoulders, and turned her back upon me. I thought this very ill-bred, but said nothing. On offering them some tea, it was abruptly refused. I could see that the new curate was completely under the orders of his imperious lady. We were not sorry when our visitors departed. January 6th.-If I may judge by the letter I have just received from Mr. Withell, he is a worthy and excellent man. He expresses his regret that I should be implicated in the unfortunate affair of the bond, entreats me not to distress myself, and says he shall be satisfied if I can pay my debt in ten years. He appears to be aware of my misfortunes, for he alludes delicately to the state of my affairs; but what affords me the highest consolation is that I see he considers me a man of honour, and I will show him that he is not deceived. I will go myself as soon as possible to Trowbridge, and pay him Fleetman's twelve pounds towards the liquidation of my unfortunate debt. Although my daughter Jane assures me that she sleeps well at night, and that little Alfred does not disturb her, as he only requires to be fed once, nevertheless I am uneasy about her. She is not near so gay as formerly, though she has much more reason to be contented and happy now, than when we were anxious about our daily food. Sometimes she sits with her knitting in her hands, silent and buried in thought, her eyes fixed on vacancy, and her formerly active fingers hanging listlessly beside her; when spoken to, she starts like one in a deep sleep, and is some time before she understands what has been said; this is evidently the consequence of broken rest, although she will not allow it. I cannot persuade her to sleep a little in the day-time : she declares she is perfectly well. Another thing, too, disturbs me about her: I really did not believe the girl had so much vanity: it is very clear that Fleetman's praises were not displeasing to her, for she asked me to give her his letter, that she might read it over again. She has never returned it to me, and keeps it in her work-basket! I doubt its being for what he says of ME: poor little vain thing! January 8th.-My farewell sermon received the tribute of tears from most of my auditors. I am now, for the first time, convinced that I am beloved by my flock. I have received the strongest expressions of attachment from all sides, and many have made me valuable presents. Never have I had so many delicacies, or so much wine in my house, as at this moment. Had I possessed the hundredth part in the days of want and privation, I should have esteemed myself fortunate. Now we are literally surrounded with luxuries: however, it is not ourselves alone who benefit by it; both Jenny and myself know all the poor families in Cricklade, and they also profit by this abundance, and rejoice with us. I felt much agitated whilst preaching my last sermon, and it was not written without tears. I feel as if cut off from all that has hitherto formed my world, from my sacred calling, from my early vocation. I am driven forth from the vineyard of the Lord, like an unworthy servant: and yet I have not laboured as an Hireling, but have planted many a fruitful vine, and cut away some unproductive branches. I am rejected from that vineyard, where day and night I have watched and worked, where I have instructed, consoled, cherished, prayed! I avoided no sick bed; I strengthened the dying sinner in his last dread struggles, by the holy name of Christ. I left no poor man to perish alone, and I often brought back the lost sheep into the path of life. God of heaven! were not all these souls bound up with mine own? and now they must be torn asunder! My heart bleeds in agony, but thy will, O God, be done i How willingly would I undertake all the duties of my office without salary! but it is too late; my successor is already in possession of my curacy. I have been accustomed to poverty from my childhood, and my youth and manhood were passed amid care and privations. We might all live upon the money I receive for little Alfred's expenses, and I would not think of the future, or care for what may become of my grey hairs, could I but continue to teach the word of God to my beloved parishioners. But, God's will be done. Let me not murmur at his dispensations! The tears which have blotted these words are not tears of bitterness. I pray not for riches, or better days, but, O Lord, drive not thy servant for ever from thy service, even though his strength is small! Let me enter once more into thy vineyard, and by thy blessing again win back souls unto the Lord! | sheesh. I managed to get over without even wetting my toes or any part of me, by lying full length on my donkey. L.'s courser went very well till he got to the middle and deepest part of the stream, and then began, with the greatest coolness possible, to turn round and round; this manoeuvre he persisted in, and we could not induce him to proceed by fair means or foul for some time. C. nearly tumbled in, but saved himself, and escaped with getting wet through to the waist. This, however, terminated our adventures, and we reached home, or rather our hotel, safely at five o'clock in the afternoon. We did not allow ourselves more than a short rest, when, having procured fresh donkeys, we started for the company's office, where we were told that we were not to leave Cairo till ten o'clock in the evening of the ensuing day. We had thought we had only this day to stay, and were accordingly not a little rejoiced at this further rest. The remainder of the evening was spent in visiting the Turkish market and wandering through various parts of the town. At eight we returned to our hotel to dinner, immediately after which, wearied and wayworn, we retired comfortably to the arms of Morpheus. 23d.-Breakfasted at nine; the same six mounted again and started for the slave market, which is about three miles off; we arrived there in good time, and saw the slaves confined in most miserable holes. There were, in the first place, about two dozen Abys sinian boys from ten to eighteen years of age, the ugliest creatures I ever beheld; and then two or three girls of the same breed, and if possible uglier still,-a rather pretty little Nubian, not at all unlike an East Indian, but too dark; and that was all of the sad collection. The whole of us were thoroughly disgusted, and stayed no time, especially as the merchants wanted us to buy, for our dragoman had brought us in under the pretence that we wished to purchase, as we should not have gained entrance under any other pretext. Retreating as fast as possible from this shocking sight, we went to the oldest mosque in Cairo, built soon after the death of Mahommed. It is a beautiful building, and must have been splendid in former times, though now rather dilapidated. Among other curiosities it contains two very hard black stones, about eight feet square, on one of which are the marks of a man's hands, on the other of his feet. Our dragoman told us that it was impossible to cut these stones with any instruments, and that these marks were those of the hands and feet of Mahommed. Of course we said nothing, and there were the marks quite evident, how done it is not for me to say, as I don't pretend to know. From the old mosque we rode all through the town, and saw a magnificent new mosque which the Pacha is building, and in which he is to be buried. It is the largest in Egypt, and is to consist almost entirely of white marble. From this we went to the Pacha's menagerie, a miserable affair, consisting of two lions, two lionesses, a leopard, a lynx, and two hyenas. The animals are fine, but the cages wretched; one of the lions had comfortably eaten his keeper two days before; but that, of course, is thought nothing of in Egypt,--at least our dragoman and the DIARY OF A JOURNEY FROM ALEXANDRIA TO surviving keepers troubled themselves very little about SUEZ.1 BY A CADET. As may be supposed, we made ourselves very comfortable, and, after eating and drinking enough, we walked down to a small Arab village about a quarter of a mile distant, where we found our donkeys, mounted, and set off for Cairo rather faster even than we had left it in the morning; we supposed it was the effect of the cheese. However we got on very well till we reached the small stream before mentioned. This time we had no one to carry us over, our guides having deserted us as soon as they had received their Buch (1) Continued from page 24. it! The animals seemed all very savage, this lion especially. The Pacha's palace, which is open to travellers, was the next lion we went to see. It is, on the whole, rather a handsome building, though some of the rooms are tawdry to a degree; a few however are very fine. We also saw the old worthy's bed, and his bath, which still contained the water in which he had washed himself that morning; by the bye, it was rather dirty than otherwise. From the palace we went and examined mosques and other places of little note; but, as we had determined to see all that was to be seen, we of course omitted nothing. After this survey we bent our steps to the Turkish market, where we bought pipes, tobacco, red caps, and |