THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY Prom the collection of James Collins, Drumcondra, Ireland. Purchased, 1918, 031 ■tins u( V / r > : — • " r 'Vrf- • '^'•2 ^ ' ■ ■ ; y ^• V *• »C' 'V^. " '> “i . — v:y«v^:.- ■f ' 'i' . y-- • ''■ \ . ' t V Digitized by the Internet Archive, in 2017 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archlve.org/details/universalinstruc01unse THE Universal Instructor dt-€idim VOL. 1. FULLY AND ACCURATELY ILLUSTRATED. WARD, LOCK, AND CO., WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C 031 V.1 CONTENTS. ARITHMETIC. BY G. VERB BENSON, Mi A. 6 50 52 84 124 154 181' 213 250 283 309 346 373 XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. ASTRONOMY. BY E. NEISON. PAGE 430 462 509 530 566 601 633 662 698 726 762 786 819 II. . 48 XV. . 468 III. . 80 XVI. . 507 IV. . 109 XVII. . 541 V. . 144 XVIII. . 568 VI. . 161 XIX. . 603 VII. . 203 XX. . 627 VIII. . 227 XXL . 657 IX. . 255 XXII. . 700 X. . 305 XXIIL . 720 XL . 339 xxrv. . 767 XII. . 375 XXV. . 788 XIII. . 403 BOTANY. BY LEO H. GRENDON. I. 8 XIV. . 419 IT. . 44 XV. . 452 III. . 76 XVI. . 480 IV. . 103 XVII. . 516 V. . 135 XVIII. . 548 VI. . 167 XIX. . 591 • VII. . 193 XX. . 620 VIII. . 223 XXI. . 648 IX. . 264 XXII. . 670 X. . 291 XXIII. . 712 XI. . 327 XXIV. . 743 XII. . 356 XXV. . 776 XIII. . 392 XXVI. . 795 CHEMISTRY. BY A. E. SPENCER. I. . 40 , XIII. ■ . 488 II. . 82 XIV. . 488 III. . 117 XV. . 524 IV. . 147 XVI. . 561 V. . 183 XVII. ■ . 579 VI. . 209 XVIII. . 623 VII. . 260 XIX. . 641 VIII. . 296 , XX. . 676 IX. . 324 1 XXL . 705 X. . 359 1 XXII. . 748 XI. . 388 i XXIIL . 771 XII. . 424 ' XXIV. . 807 ENGLISH GRAMMAR. BY L. TOULMIN SMITH. I. PAGE . 15 XIV. PAGE 457 II. . 43 XV. 489 III. 63, 106 XVI. 518 IV. . 138 XVII. 559 V. . 172 XVIII. 582 VI. . 201 XIX. 618 VII. . 230 XX. 646 VIII. . 258 XXL 674 IX. . 295 XXII. 710 X. . 330 XXIII. 756 XI. . 366 XXIV. 798 XII. . 386 XXV. 810 XIII. . 438 FRENCH GRAMMAR. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. BY JULES A. L. KUNZ. XI. XII. 2 47 73 102 141 166 195 XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. 234 t XVIII. 262 XIX. 301 I XX. 322 362 422 482 550 590 614 678 722 765 KEY TO EXERCISES. I. (Ex. i.-v.) . 390 II. (Ex. vi.-xi.) . 450 III. (Ex. xii.-xvi.) . 522 IV. (Ex.xvii.-xxi.) 666 V. (Ex. xxii.-xxvi.) 770 VI. (Ex.xxvii-xxxii.)803 FRENCH PRONUNCIATION. BY JULES A. L. KUNZ. I. . 28 IX. . . 274 II. . 57 X. . . 314 III. . 92 XL . . 351 IV. . 115 XII. . . 378 V. . 156 XIII. . . 406 VI. . 186 XIV. . . 442 VII. . 217 XV. . . 502 VIII. . 251 PHYSICAL G BY GEORGE : XVI. . lEOGRAPHY. R. EMERSON. . 534 I. . 25 XIV. . 471 II. . 71 XV. . 496 III. . 100 XVI. . 512 IV. . 129 XVII. . 544 V. . 174 XVIII. . 571 VI. . 207 XIX. . 596 VII. . 245 XX. . 632 VIII. . 276 XXI. . 659 IX. . 307 XXII. . 696 X. . 337 XXIII. . 728 XI. . 367 XXIV. . 760 XII. . 408 XXV. . 784 XIII. . 435 XXVI. . 811 404427 CONTENTS. Iv GEOLOGY. I. BY JOHN T. PAGE 1 . 17 YOUNG, F.G.S. XI. PAGE . 412 II. 53 XII. . 455 III. 88 XIII. . 499 IV. 113 XIV. . 528 V. 158 XV. . 574 VI. 197 XVI. . 607 VII. 240 XVII. . 687 VIII. 287 xvni. . 724 IX. 319 XIX. . 780 X. 365 XX. . 800 GERMAN. BY H. W. DULCKEN, PH.D. I. . 23 XV. 447 II. . 38 XVI. 470 III. . 60 XVII. 506 IV. . 86 XVIII. 546 V. . 119 XIX. . 562 VI. . 146 XX. , 630 VII. . 189 XXI. 655 VIII. . 211 XXII. . 689 IX. . 242 XXIII. 715 X. . 278 XXIV. . 746 XI. . 318 XXV. 778 XII. . 342 XXVI. . 804 XIII. . 384 XXVII. 820 XIV. . 414 ANCIENT HISTORY. BY GEORGE R. EMERSON. I. . 29 XIII. 431 II. . 66 XIV. 463 III. . 97 XV. 484 IV. . IM XVI. 520 V. . 163 XVII. 552 VI. . 199 XVIII. 583 VII. . 232 XIX. 616 VIII. . 271 XX. 653 IX. . 299 XXI. 680 X. . 335 XXII. 716 XI. . 352 XXIII. 737 XII. . 396 MODERN HISTORY. BY H. W. DULCKEN, PH.D. I. 4 X. 312 II. . 34 XI. , ■344 III. . 89 XII. 381 IV. . 121 XIII. 416 V. . 151 XIV. 444 VI. . 179 XV. 475 VII. . 214 XVI. 503 VIII. . 247 i XVII. 535 IX. . 280 1 XVIII. 563 MODERN HISTORY {continued). XIX. PAGE 599 XXIII. PAGE . 730 XX. 624 XXIV. . 752 XXI. 663 XXV. . 791 XXII. • 692 XXVI. . 815 LATIN. BY T. H. L. LEARY, D.C.L. I. . 32 XV. . . 402 II. . 68 XVI. . . 434 III. . 69 XVII. . 434 IV. . 99 XVIII. . . 474 V. . 134 XIX. . . 537 VI. . 177 XX. . . 573 VII. . 226 XXI. . . 595 VIII. . 253 XXII. . . 638 IX. . 254 XXIII. . . 669 X. . 284 XXIV. . . 702 XI. . .’ 286, 326 XXV. . . 735 XII. . . 327, 354 XXVI. . . 755 XIII. . 382 XXVII. . . 782 XIV. . 383 XXVIII. . . 814 THE MICROSCOPE. BY JOHN T. YOUNG, F.G.S,, AND G. SOULIE. I. . . 639 1 II. .. . 732 MUSIC. BY JOHN CURWEN. I. . 11 XIII. . 448 II. . 12 XIV. . 478 III. . 36 XV. . 511 IV. 94, 126 XVI. . 532 V. . 150 XVII. . 586 VI. . 187 XVIII. . 606 VII. . 220 XIX. . 635 VIII. . 265 XX. . 667 IX. . 303 XXI. . 668 X. . 332 XXII. . 703 XI. . 371 XXIII. . 718 XII. . 410 XXIV. . 742 PENMANSHIP. BY W. J. E. CRANE. I. . 13 XII. . 460 II. . 58 XIII. . 492 III. . 110 XIV. . 526 IV. . 140 XV. . 555 V. . 192 XVI. . 588 VI. . 236 XVII. . 611 VII. . 268 XVIII. . 644 VIII. . 316 XIX. . 683 IX. . 347 XX. . 707 X. . 398 XXI. . 739 XI. . 428 XXII. . 763 THE FRIENDLY COUNSELLOR. The Gate of Manhood . Education as an Investment Perseverance .... The Student as Subject Character .... The Travelling Student Mercantile Life . The Art of Observing . Prejudice and its Effects . Work and Overwork . What Am I Fit FOR? The Scope and Limit of the Intel The Impulses of Genius The Art of Conversation . Culture, and How to Obtain It The Economy of Time . Secrets of Success . Powers By George R. Emerson „ Robert Somers . jj j> 55 55 55 55 55 55 55 55 55 » „ Thomas Dunman 55 55 55 „ Robert Somers . „ George R. Emerson „ Thomas Dunman 55 55 55 55 55 55 55 55 55 . . 19 . 55 . 78 . 170 . . .206 . 238 290, 368, 394, 426, 466 . 486 . 515 . . .570 . 576, 609 . 651 . 685 . 651 . 774 . 793 . 806 INDEX I'OQC 823 INTEODU CTION. > «»■» < T he title of our work is a sufficient indication of its scope and purpose. The following pages will, we believe, be found to contain a complete encyclopjedia of learning adapted to the requirements of students of all classes, and we hope they may ■prove instrumental in greatly promoting that advancement of wisdom and knowledge about which every well-wisher to his age and country is eager. On the need for popular education nothing requires to be said. It is a topic which has been fully discussed of late years, and one on which we are certainly now all agreed. We all acknowledge that a good education is a fortune, and the best of all fortunes. We see that if the ignorant would succeed in the world they must betake themselves to study, and that, in these days of competition and examination, to neglect learning is to court failure. To those, then, we dedicate the following work who wish to improve themselves so as to compete on better terms with all around, not only in business but in social life. The “ Universal Instructor ” aims at being nothing short of a University at Home, and we trust it will be found in every way to suit such students as, hampered by slender means or prevented by the inconveniences of distance or of time, are unable personally to attend any of our great seats of learning. Self-culture, it is true, has its disadvantages, but for really earnest minds it will be found to answer almost every purpose. The best part of a man’s education, it has been well said, is that which he gives to himself ; and there is a peculiar charm, too, about mental gains secured in a special manner by our own diligence. But whilst appealing mainly to self-educating students, we have not overlooked the wants of others more fortunately situated, and have given a place in our pages to all subjects of special interest to those who are able to take advantage of existing educational machinery. We have tried to cover the whole field of knowledge. The subjects of which we have treated extend from the most elementary to the most advanced, and taken together form a perfect system of intellectual culture. The latest thought of our time, and all modern inventions and discoveries, have, we hope, had justice done them ; and though far from believing in the possibility of converting labour into recreation, we have done our utmost to make our lessons lively and interesting. Our object, however, is not only to impart learning and make well-informed men. We have always kept in view that the great end of knowledge should be to enable us to lead wiser and better lives. We have endeavoured to exercise a refining and elevating influence, and shall fall far short of our intention if, whilst making students, we fail to create enthusiasts for beauty and truth. VOL. I. 1 2 THE UNIVEESAL IKSTRVCTOE. PREFACE. The plan intended to be carried out in the following articles embraces a complete series of lessons in French for the use of self-educating students. At the same time it is hoped that they \vill be found to offer a great deal both of interest and instruction to those who have already given some attention to the study of the language. Although no attempt at a grammairc raisonnee will be made, each subject, as it logically presents itself, -will be treated in a sufficiently exhaustive manner to spare the learner the disappointment which skeleton grammars are apt to produce by leav- ing so many gaps to be filled up from the student’s inner consciousness. Assuming that the reader obtains little or no extraneous as- sistance, we shall take nothing for granted, and shall proceed as if we were speaking in the lecture-room. In these days of competitive examinations it is indispensable for the student to possess sound notions on eveiy point of grammar, and if he draws his knowledge from a source of indisputable competence, his task is facilitated and his end furthered. This, fortunately, is possible A^^th regard to the study of French— a language which, ever since the days of Richelieu, has possessed a standard of authority such as no other tongue can boast, or — as some mali- cious persons have hinted— can groan under ! We refer here to the Academic Franqaise, a company of forty literary men who are ever recruited from the foremost ranks of their craft. They published a dictionary, against which it has been much the fashion to inveigh, but whose decisions no examiner, either in France or abroad, would ever attempt to impugn. Jealously guarding ourselves, therefore, from indulging in any pet theory, it will be our aim to follow the dictates of the French Academy, as corrected up to date in a new edition of their dictionary, which, after forty years of delays and preparation, was recently published. On every point of the least importance, however, we shall not omit to consult the lexicographer of the day, M. Littr^, a safer guide than whom it would be difficult to select. The coincidence of the publication of the seventh edition of the French Academy’s dictionary with that of M. Littre’s Supplement will enable us to post ourselves up in the most recent researches of philology in so far as they affect the purely grammatical side of the French tongue. M. Larousse’s gigantic work, of which the fifteenth volume was brought out in 1876, ■wdll also be laid under contribution. To render these lessons thoroughly ser\dce- able and^ practical, there will be attached to each copious exercises made up of coherent and connected vocabularies, and of aphorisms, proverbs, witticisms, interesting or instructive anecdotes, and extracts culled from the best French authors. Thus something of the spirit of the language will, we trust, pass through the dry bones of its grammar. Under the name of Stray Notes we shall devote short para- graphs to vaiious questions which strictly come under the heads of neither accidence, sjmtax, nor literature, but which are neverthe- less indispensable to a proper comprehension of a language ; such as puns, words and phrases used as quotations by British writers, adjectives derived from the names of places, alliteration, historical and literary allusions purely French, nursery French, etc. As a further help to the many who, from choice or necessity, are self -educators and im- provers, a key to the various exercises will be published. Having a special regard also to these students, a series of articles has been prepared on French pronunciation — the most complete, so far as we are aware, that has ever appeared in this country. Certainly no system of figured sounds can rival the voice of a native teacher, but our articles, we hope, will go a long way towards enabling the learner to speak French as it ought to be spoken. In these articles, the first of which appears on p. 28, all necessary preliminary information will be found as to the French alphabet and the accents and orthographical signs in common use. LESSON I. The Aeticle. 1. French possesses only one article, the definite, which takes the form le before a mas- culine singular noun, as le pere, the father ; la before a feminine singular noun, as la mere, the mother ; and les before a plural noun of either gender, as les peres, the fathers, les meres, the mothers. (In pronouncing these examples, remember that the plural sounds exactly as the singular : pere, peres, are both pronounced per ; mere, meres, are both pronounced mer; the difference in number being sufficiently indicated by the change in the article.) No reference is made to a neuter, as that gender does not exist in French ; nor is the term common used in French grammars with reference to the gender of substantives. 2. When a noun in the singular, whether masculine or feminine, begins with a vowel or mute h, the e and a of le and la are elided, and replaced by an apostrophe. (See § 8, p. 57.) This promotes rapidity of utterance by the removal of the hiatus. Vormc, the elm, for le orme. Vhahit, the coat, for le habit. Vdme, the soul, for la dme. Vhumeur, the temper, for la Immeur. This elision is not unknown in English poetry where, however, it becomes a question not of euphony but of metre : “ Blest as th’ immortal gods is he, The youth that fondly sits by thee,” etc. The plural presents no case of elision, as the final s of the plural article, which before a FRENCH GRAMMAR. 3 consonant is quite mute, is carried on to the initial vowel of the substantive, and produces with it a very euphonious efEect, from the fact of the s being softened down to a 2 ;, as — les ormes, the elms, which is pron. le'-zorm'. les habits, the clothes, „ VC-zobV. les dmes, the souls, „ le'-zatrC. les humeurs, the humours, „ le'-znmeur. 3. Wherever the syntax of the English language demands the use of the definite article the, we shall find le, la, V or les, according to gender and number, in French ; for, like the, le (la, V, les) limits the meaning of a noun, or singles the noun out, after the manner of a demonstrative adjective. But over and above this, and in a manner diametrically opposed to English syntax, the French article le (la, V, les) stands before any noun taken in a general sense — that is, before a noun embracing a whole species or class. Use, therefore, the article both in French and English, when you say — The man has spoken truly, L'homme a parU vrai. The man who has just spoken, L'homme qui vient de parler. Use the article in French only, when you say— Death is the gate of life. La onort est la porte de la vie. Man is mortal, L’homme est mortel. All men are mad. Toils les hommes sent fous. Inventive men are scarce, Les hommes a imagination sent raves. From the English point of view, then, the rule is : death, life, man, men, inventive men, being used in a general sense, require no article ; And from the French point of view the rule is : mort, vie, homme, hommes, hommes a imagi- nation, being used in a general sense, demand the article. 4. The article le or la, placed before nouns, is the readiest means of ascertaining their gender. The case becomes more difficult where V or les appear, or when a gender must be assigned to a noun presented without any con- text. With reference to this point, practice will teach better than rule ; but as the rule must be given, and is very long and burden- some, we shall at once smooth the path by a few general hints. (a^ Nouns representing males are masculine, and nouns representing feminine : L’homme, the man. la femme, the woman. Le lion, the lion. la lionne, the lioness. (b) A noun does not vary its original gender, whether it be applied to the one or the other sex ; Madame A. est le docteur de cet hopital, Mrs. A. is the doctor of this ho.^ntal ; Isaac etait la victime que Dieu s’etait choisie, Isaac was the victim which God had chosen for Himself. (c) Some species of animals are designated by the male, others by the female, and the gender is applied respectively to the whole species. For example, chat, which strictly means tom-cat, is masculine, and the name of the whole species is made masculine : Le chat est un precieux animal, the cat is a precious animal; whilst we should say, JjKehattenourrit ses petits, the cat feeds her young. (d) Nouns of inanimate objects and abstrac- tions belong to either gender in accordance with certain rules of derivation, and more especially termination, which rules will be fully developed in the course of these Lessons. Practical Application. 1. Learn the following vocabulary. The italics in the French words show which letters are mute ; and the curved line indicates that the final consonant of one word is to be carried on in pronunciation to the initial vowel of the following word — a process called liaison in French, which we shall translate by the term connection. VOCABULARY I. La parente, kindred. 3Iasculine. Le,s parenf^, the parents or relations. Les'^enfanZs, the children. Le^ gran^Z^-parenZ^, the grandparents. Le.? petiZsTenfant?, the grandchildren. Les'^ai'eua; or ancetrc^, the ancestors. Les'^ascendanZ^*, the ascendants. Le^ descendanZ^ or neveua?,* the descendants. Le^ fiancee, the betrothed. Les'^epoua?, the spouses. Masculine. Mari, husband; pert', father ; papa, papa ; giand-peie, grand- father ; fiZs, son; petiZ - fiZs, grand- I stej)- ( in-law , [ step-son, beau-fiZs ^ son-in- ( law ; gendi’tf, son-in-law. fr^re, brother ; ( step- hean-ivere | ( in-law oncl^, uncle ; neveu, nephew ; cousin, cousin ; cousin germain, cousin ; parenZ, relative ; Feminine. Femm • • • < T he title of our work is a sufficient indication of its scope and purpose. The following pages will, we believe, be found to contain a complete encyclopaedia of learning adapted to the requirements of students of all classes, and we hope they may prove instrumental in greatly promoting that advancement of wisdom and knowledge about which every well-wisher to his age and country is eager. On the need for popular education nothing requires to be said. It is a topic which has been fully discussed of late years, and one on which we are certainly now all agreed. We all acknowledge that a good education is a fortune, and the best of all fortunes. We see that if the ignorant would succeed in the world they must betake themselves to study, and that, in these days of competition and examination, to neglect learning is to court failure. To those, then, we dedicate the following work who wish to improve themselves so as to compete on better terms with all around, not only in business but in social life. The “Universal Instructor” aims at being nothing short of a University at Home, and we trust it will be found in every way to suit such students as, hampered by slender means or prevented by the inconveniences of distance or of time, are unable personally to attend any of our great seats of learning. Self-culture, it is true, has its disadvantages, but for really earnest minds it will be found to answer almost every purpose. The best part of a man’s education, it has been well said, is that which he gives to himself ; and there is a peculiar charm, too, about mental gains secured in a special manner by our own diligence. But whilst appealing mainly to self-educating students, we have not overlooked the wants of others more fortunately situated, and have given a place in our pages to all subjects of special interest to those who are able to take advantage of existing educational machinery. We have tried to cover the whole field of knowledge. The subjects of which we have treated extend from the most elementary to the most advanced, and taken together form a perfect system of intellectual culture. The latest thought of our time, and all modern inventions and discoveries, have, we hope, had justice done them ; and though far from believing in the possibility of converting labour into recreation, we have done our utmost to make our lessons lively and interesting. Our object, however, is not only to impart learning and make well-informed men. We have always kept in view that the great end of knowledge should be to enable us to lead wiser and better lives. We have endeavoured to exercise a refining and elevating influence, and shall fall far short of our intention if, whilst making students, we fail to create enthusiasts for beauty and truth. VOL. I. 1 2 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. BY JULES A. L. KUKZ. PREFACE. The plan intended to be carried out in the following articles embraces a complete series of lessons in French for the use of self-educating students. At the same time it is hoped that they will be found to offer a great deal both of interest and instruction to those who have already given some attention to the study of the language. Although no attempt at a grammaire ralsonnie will be made, each subject, as it logically presents itself, will be treated in a sufficiently exhaustive manner to spare the learner the disappointment which skeleton grammars are apt to produce by leav- ing so many gaps to be tilled up from the student’s inner cause iovsness. Assuming that the reader obtains little or no extraneous as- sistance, we shall take nothing for granted, and shall proceed as if we were speaking in the lecture-room. In these days of competitive examinations it is indispensable for the student to possess sound notions on every point of grammar, and if he draws his knowledge from a source of indisputable competence, his task is facilitated and his end furthered. This, fortunately, is possible with regard to the study of French — a language which, ever since the days of Richelieu, has possessed a standard of authority such as no other tongue can boast, or — as some mali- cious persons have hinted — can groan under ! We refer here to the Academic Frangaise, a company of forty literary men who are ever recruited from the foremost ranks of their craft. They published a dictionary, against which it has been much the fashion to inveigh, but whose decisions no examiner, either in France or abroad, would ever attempt to impugn. Jealously guarding ourselves, therefore, from indulging in any pet theory, it will be our aim to follow the dictates of the French Academy, as corrected up to date in a new edition of their dictionary, which, after forty years of delays and preparation, was recently published. On every point of the least importance, however, we shall not omit to consult the lexicographer of the day, M. Littrd, a safer guide than whom it would be difficult to select. The coincidence of the publication of the seventh edition of the French Academy’s dictionary with that of M. Littr^’s Supplement will enable us to post ourselves up in the most recent researches of philology in so far as they affect the purely grammatical side of the French tongue. M. Larousss’s gigantic work, of which the fifteenth volume was brought out in 1876, will also be laid under contribution. To render these lessons thoroughly service- able and practical, there will be attached to each copious exercises made up of coherent and connected vocabularies, and of aphorisms, proverbs, witticisms, interesting or instructive anecdotes, and extracts culled from the best French authors. Thus something of the spirit of the language will, we trust, pass through the dry bones of its grammar. Under the name of Stray Notes we shall devote short para- graphs to various questions which strictly come under the heads of neither accidence, syntax, nor literature, but which are neverthe- less indispensable to a proper comprehension of a language; such as puns, words and phrases used as quotations % British writers, adjectives derived from the names of places, alliteration, historical and literary allusions purely French, nursery French, etc. As a further help to the many who, fi’om choice or necessity, are self-educators and im- provers, a key to the various exercises will be published. Having a special regard also to these students, a series of articles has been prepared on French pronunciation — the most complete, so far as we are aware, that has ever appeared in this country. Certainly no system of figured sounds can rival the voice of a native teacher, but our articles, we hope, will go a long way towards enabling the learner to speak French as it ought to be spoken. In these articles, the first of which appears on p. 28, all necessary preliminary information will be found as to the French alphabet and the accents and orthographical signs in common use. LESSON I. The Article. 1. French possesses only one article, the definite, which takes the form le before a mas- culine singular noun, as le pere, the father ; la before a feminine singular noun, as la mere, the mother ; and les before a plural noun of either gender, as les peres, the fathers, les meres, the mothers. (In pronouncing these examples, remember that the plural sounds exactly as the singular : p'ere, peres, are both pronounced per ; mere, meres, are both pronounced m'er; the difference in number being sufficiently indicated by the change in the article.) No reference is made to a neuter, as that gender does not exist in French; nor is the term common used in French grammars with reference to the gender of substantives. 2. When a noun in the singular, whether masculine or feminine, begins with a vov/el or mute h, the e and a of le and la are elided, and replaced by an apostrophe. (See §8, p. 57.) This promotes rapidity of utterance by the remoyal of the hiatus. I'orme, the elm, for le orme. Vhahit, the coat, for le hahit. Vdme, the soul, W la dme. Vhumeur, the temper, for la kumeur. This elision is not unknown in English poetry where, however, it becomes a question not of euphony but of metre : “ Blest as th’ immortal gods is he, The youth that fondly sits by thee,” etc. The plural presents no case of elision, as the final $ of the plural article, which before a FRENCH GRAMMAR. 3 consonant is quite mute, is carried on to the initial vowel of the substantive, and produces with it a very euphonious effect, from the fact of the .9 being softened down to a z, as — les ormes, the elms, which is pron. IC-zorm'. les habits, the clothes, „ le'-zabi\ les ames, the souls, „ le'-zam\ les Immeurs, the humours, „ Ve’-zwiicur. 3. Wherever the syntax of the English language demands the use of the definite article the, we shall find le, la, V or les, according to gender and number, in French ; for, like the, le (la, V, las') limits the meaning of a noun, or singles the noun out, after the manner of a demonstrative adjective. But over and above this, and in a manner diametrically opposed to English syntax, the French article le (la, V, les) stands before any noun taken in a general sense — that is, before a noun embracing a whole species or class. Use, therefore, the article both in French and English, when you say — The man has spoken truly, L'homme a parU vrai. The man who has just spoken, L'homnie qui 'dent de jjarler. Use the article in French only, when you say— Death is the gate of life. La mart est la yorte de la vie. Man is mortal, Vhomme est mortel. All men are mad, Tons les homines sont fans. Inventive men are scarce, Les homines a imagination sont raves. From the English point of view, then, the rule is ; death, life, man, men, inventive men, being used in a general sense, require no article ; And from the French point of view the rule is : mart, vie, homme, homines, homines a imagi- nation, being used in a general sense, demand the article. 4. The article le or la, placed before nouns, is the readiest means of ascertaining their gender. The case becomes more difficult where V or les appear, or when a gender must be assigned to a noun presented without any con- text. With reference to this point, practice will teach better than rule ; but as the rule must be given, and is very long and burden- some, we shall at once smooth the path by a few general hints. (a) Nouns representing males are masculine, and nouns representing are feminine : L’homme, the man. la femme, the woman. Le lion, the lion. la lionne, the lioness. (b) A noun does not vary its original gender, whether it be applied to the one or the other sex : ]\Iadame A. est le docteur de cet hopital, Mrs. A. is the doctor of this hospital ; j Isaac etait la victime que Dieu s’^tait choisie, | Isaac was the victim which God had chosen \ for Himself. j (c) Some species of animals are designated ! by the male, others by the female, and the j gender is applied respectively to the whole ! species. For example, chat, which strictly means tom-cat, is masculine, and the name of the whole species is made masculine : Le chat est un precieux animal, the cat is a precious animal; whilst we should say, 'LA.chattenourrit ses petits, the cat feeds her young. (d') Nouns of inanimate obiects and abstrac- tions belong to either gendei in accordance with certain rules of derivati.. 'i, and more especially termination, which ruleib '.dll be fully developed in the course of these Lessens. Practical Application. 1. Learn the following vocabulary. The italics in the French words show which letters are mute ; and the curved line indicates that the final consonant of one word is to be carried on in pronunciation to the initial vowel of the following word — a process called liaison in French, which we shall translate by the term connection. VOCABULARY I. La parents, kindred. Masculine. Le.9 parenf^, the parents or relations. Les'^enfan^s, the children. Le^ granr/^-parenf^, the grandparents. Le^ petifs7enfanf,9, the grandchildren. Les'^aieua; or ancetr^-^, the dncestorca Les'^ascendanf^*, the ascendants. liC^ descendants or neveua*,* the descendants, Les fiances, the betrothed. Les"'epoua?, the spouses. Masculine. Mari, husband; per6^, father ; papa, papa ; gran^t-peir, grand- father ; fits, son; petit - fits, grand- son ; [ step- b€au-p6rJ/«*^;;:; { in-law ; t step-son, beau-fits ^ son-in- ( law ; gendr / etc. The following are compound and modified letters : — Ae ae, Oe oe, Ue ue, St st, d/ ^ .4 /f Sch sch, Ck ck, Ss ss, | BY GdORGE R. EMERSON. Introduction. The earliest students of Geography were the. Greeks, and the name of the science is derived from two words of the Greek language. — yr\ (the earth), and Origin of 7/>d0ei»/ (to write). In a future seosTa-vby. article we snail describe the historical pro- gress of geogiaphical knowledge : at present it is unnecessary to say more than that the ac- quaintance with the shape, surface, and natural features of the earth possessed by the ablest Greek philosophers was extremely limited. One or two of the clearest thinkers suggested — founding the suggestion on mathematical prin- ciples — that the earth was a globe ; but the real bases of geographical science — the sphericity of: the earth, its place in the solar system, its annual revolution round the sun, the causes of varia- tion of surface and climate, the internal forces; persistently in operation, the various stages through which its outer crust has ])asscd, the relative pro])ortions of land and water, ocean currents, and other physical phenomena — have only been established in comparatively modern times by the arduous investigations of astro- nomers, mathematicians, geologists, chemists,, and other students of the physical sciences, and adventurous and scientific explorers. There are two distinct departments of geo- graphical science — Phi/sic/iL GcograiAiy and Political and Historical Gcogra- Divisions: ])hy ; the former dealing with the Physical and facts of nature, the latter with political the communities into which the geography, human inhabitants of the world are divided. Political Geogi’aphy is to a considerable extent, dependent on conditions inq)Osed by the facts of Physical Geography, because climate, means of communication, and other material facts,, affect the growth of communities and the es- tablishment of nations. The subject will be treated in detail in future sections. Physical Geography includes — I. Mathematical Geography^ which treats of the figure, magnitude, and density of the earth ; its position in the planetary system, and the method of delineating the surface of the earth on artificial globes, maps, and charts, and of determining the position of any particu- lar place. (Considered as a })lanet and member of the solar system, the earth, and the ])heno- mena of light and darkness, heat and cold, and the succession of the seasons, Avill be found described in the articles on Astronomy.) II. A hnon'ledge of the material features of the earth' s surface, and the physical forces irhich hare 'induced and are modifying 'it. This in- cludes the ])roportions of land and water, the form.ation of continents and islands, moun- tains, volcanic and glacial action ; the extent, de])th, cun-ents, temperature, chemical comj)0- sition, tides, and eva])oration of the ocean river systems, with their watersheds and area. 2G THE uxivehsal ixsmucroR. of drainage ; geological fcatin-cs of the earth’s .surface (specihcally treated in the series of articles on Geology) ; and climate, including scones, isothermal lines of average temperature and rainfall. III. The distribution of animal and vegetable life, and mineral nod acts. Political and Historical Geography includes — ^ I. The proffi'Cft.sice distribution and settlement into communities of the human race. II. The world as politically divided into states and communities, including the areas, boundaries, inhabitants, forms of government, products, and commerce of these states. \^This department of the subject is sepavatcly treated In a series of articles on the States and •Governments of the World.] Physical Geography.— I. 1. Form, dimensions, and density of the earth. The earth is :iearlj spherical in form, but not exactly so, being slightly ■flattened at the gwles, or points mark- ing the extre- mities of its axis of rota- tion. Between these poles — known as the north and .south poles — the diameter of the globe has Vjeen as- certained to be 7,81)8 Eng- lish statute miles, while the diameter at the equator, or imaginary line round the <‘entre,is 7,92.5 miles, or 27 miles more POLES, AXIS OF EEVOLUTIOX, AND EQUATOR. EVIDENCE OF THE SPHERICAL FORM OP THE EARTH. In the accom- panying diagram, the letters N. and S. indicate the north and south poles ; the dotted line, the axis of the earth’s revolution; and the line traversing the diameter of the circle, the equator (from Lat. ccquare, to make equal). The reason of the variation from the true spherical form is that the velocity of the earth’s daily rotation upon its axis being greatest at the equator, the consequent greater action there of the centrifugal force (the force that urges a revolving body to fly off in a straight line, but controlled by the opposite or centripetal force, which attracts it to the centre, and so produces a cuiwed motion), would produce a bulging out in the equatorial region and a flattening at the poles. The in- fluence of this force in determining the shape of the earth is probably novy very slight, but was considerable in the early history of our planet ; for, as an able writer remarks, “ It may be taken as almost certain that the sphe- roidal figure of the earth has been attained in consequence of its having formerly been en- tirely fluid during its rotation on its axis,” and it is evident that the effect of centrifugal force would be far more apparent on a fluid or semi-fluid mass than on one of a denser and consequently more cohesive nature. (The phy- sical condition of the earth at various epochs will be described in the series of articles on Geology, but must be occasionally referred to under this heading for the purpose of illus- trating subjects connected with Effect of jihysical geography.) This ten- revolution on dcncy of a sphere when in a rapid a sphere. state of revo- lution to de- part from its original form may be illus- trated by a very easy ex- p e r i m e n t , Make a hollow globe of paper, or other light material, with a cane passed through it for an axis ; then cause it to re- volve rapidly, and it will be seen that it becomes con- siderably flat- tened at the poles, and cor- respondingly enlarged in lateral circum- ference, as represented in the diagrams. The circumference of the earth at the equator being nearly 24,000 miles, and the revolution on its axis being completed in twenty-four hom’S, it follows that any given point on the equa- r At rest. Rapidly revolving torial line is travelling at the rate of nearly 1 ,000 miles an hour — about twenty times as fast as a swift exju’ess railway train. The effect of this velocity of revolution on the form of the earth may be readily imagined. PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 27 Not only does the earth deviate fi’om the form of a regular sphere by being tlattened at the poles, as described above, but the equator does not describe a perfect circle, The equator, slightly elliptical in shape ; the longer diameter, between the west coast of Africa and a central spot in the Pacific Ocean, being nearly two miles longer than the dia- meter’ between the island of Sumatra in the Indian Ocean and Quito on the western coast of South America. Although the form of the earth is now ac- cepted as one of the most certain facts which scientific investigation has estab- Proofs that HgPed, it is remarkable that per- the earth IS efforts are still made, and asp eroi . great display of mathematical technicalities, to prove that it is a circular disc ; and within the last few years elaborately illustrated books have been pro- duced in advocacy of the supposition. It will be well, therefore, for the student to remember the following incontrovertible facts: — The greatest expanse of horizon is presented to the eye by the ocean ; and ships sailing away from tlie shore in any direction appear gradually to sink, the hulls disappearing first, then the rigging, and finally the topmost spars ; the process being exactly reversed in the case of ships approaching the shore. This clearly proves the convex form of the surface of the sea, for if it were a plane the largest objects w’ould be seen the longest. Far out at sea, or in the centre of a very extensive plain on land, the horizon forms a well-defined circle around tlie observer ; and as the same appearance may be witnessed, under similar circumstances of uninterrupted vision, from any part of the earth’s surface, the inference that the earth is a sphere, or v’ery nearly so, is inevitable. Again, the rotundity of the earth is proved by tlie very familiar fact that it can be circum- navigated, vojaagers proceeding in the same general direction, east or west, returning to the point whence they started. A more ■striking proof, because it is demonstrated to the eye by nature itself, is that, in the case of an eclipse of the moon, the shadow of the earth thrown by the sun is always of a circular form ; and as the phenomenon of an eclipse does not occur at fixed periods, but when the positions are relatively different, the shadow would vaiy in shape from a circle to an oval, or even a straight line, according to the angle presented to the surface of the moon, were the earth a disc, or of any other form but that of a sphere, which only can, under any possible circumstances, cast a, circular shadow. Further ])roof, if any were needed, is in the fact that the fixed stars visible in the northern regions graxlually recede from the view of the voyager proceeding into equatorial regions, south of which he sees entirely different constellations. The spheroidal (nearly spherical) shape of the earth being established, the fflethodsof exact form and dimensions (as above)have been ascertained and density. ^ series of scientifically conducted observations, the most noteworthy of which are those with the jyen- dnlum and the measurement of an arc of the meridian. The nature and results of these observations may be briefly described. The pendulum is a weight suspended at the extremity of a rod or Pendulum string, and perfectly free to move ®2cperiments. in any direction. As the weight, or bob, is really a falling body, restrained only by the rod or string to which it is attached, it has, of course, by the force of gravity, a tendency towards the centre of the earth. It has been ascertained by many observations that a pen- dulum makes about 2'10 vibrations more in a day when near the pole than when near the equator — the evident conclusion being that the force of gravity is less at the equator, where the surface is farther from the centre, than at the poles; the oblateness, or polar flattening of the earth being thus confirmed. This dimi- nution of the force of gravity in the equatorial regions is partially, but oniy slightly, due to centrifugal force. The measurement of an arc of the meridian is a far more elaborate process, which has been successfully achieved by manj’- scientific observers. The meri- Measurement dian (Lat. meridies, midday) is of^he*^ the name given by astronomers nieridian. to “the great circle of the celestial sphere which joasses through both poles of the heavens and also through the zenith and nadir of any place on the earth’s surface.” To render this definition more intelligible to the student as yet unfamiliar with the technical phrase- ology of abstract science, it is necessary to explain first that the zenith is that point of the heavens immediately above the head of the observer, or immediately over any given point of the earth’s surface ; and the nadir is the corresponding point indicated by an ima- ginary prolongation of a line from the zenith through the centre of the earth. A circle described from the zenith to the nadir, passing through the poles, forms a me- ridian, and the corresponding A meridian, circle on the surface of the earth is the meridian of geography. When the centre of the sun is on the meridian of any particular spot on the earth’s surface, it is midday at all places under the same line on that side of the globe, and midnight at all corresponding places on the other side. (Farther on, when explaining the terms lonrjitnde and latitnde, we shall have occasion to refer again to this part of the sub- ject.) A diagram will assist our explanation. Here the line A B represents the axis of the 28 THE VNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. earth’s revolution ; C C a meridian, or line marking the circumference of the earth, passing through any given point, D, on the surface and ihe poles ; E the zenith, or part of the heavens immediately over D, and F the nadir, or oppo- site point. An arc of the meridian is the curve between any two parts of the meridional line, and the form of the curve obviously indicates the size and configuration of the entire globe, because from any portion of a circle the size of the circle can be ascertained. Two stations on the same meridian any distance apart are selected, and the latitude of each position ascertained with the greatest precision ; then by trigonometi'ical calculation, by method known as triangulation, the length of the arc of the meridian between the two points is ascertained. If the earth were a perfect sphere, and the meridian consequently a perfect circle, the degrees of latitude between the two points (the latitude having been most carefully settled by astronomical observation) would be identical in length with those included in any other arc of the meridian of equal length. But it has been discovered, as the result of many mea- surements conducted with the most scientific accuracy, that the arcs leally differ in length, and that the length of a degree of latitude — in other words, of an arc of the meridian — increases as the poles are approached, proving, in confirma- tion of the pendulum and other experiments, that the earth is not a perfect sphere, but that the curvature of the outline becomes less and less as it approaches the polar regions. Further on, we give the length of degrees of latitude at various parts of the earth’s surface. it will be useful to incorporate it, thus raising the number of letters to twenty-six. Letters. Old name. Sound. New name. Sound. a * a ah a ah b be bay be be 11 c c6 say ce se d d6 day de de e 6 a ee c f effe eff fe fe g zhay t ghc ghe h ache ash he he i i ee i ee 3 ji zhee f je zhe k ka kah ke ke I elle ell le Ic m emme emm me me n eiine enn ne ne 0 6 o 6 o P pe pay pe pe q ku kuj ke ke r erre heir re re s esse ess se se t te tav te te u u ut u u V v6 vay ve ve \v§ double ve doo’ol vay X ikse ceks kse kse y i grec ee grec i ee z zede zed ze zc § 2. Classification of Letters. The letters of the French alphabet do no^ always express the same sounds and articula- tions, nor do they represent them all. Accents placed on certain vowels partly overcome the* former shortcoming, and combinations of letters make up for the paucity of phonetic signs. The* French alphabet, like the English, though in a smaller degree, deserves the denunciation which the lexicographer Yolney levelled at them both when he called them caricatures ! The only practicable classification is the following : — BY JULES A. L. KUNZ. I. In the memorable spelling: lesson given by the Philosopher to M. Jourdain (Ze Bourgeois Gen- tilkomme. Acte II. sc. vi,), Moliere very divert- ingly ridicules, and seems to demolish for ever, the schoolmen’s cumbersome methods of im- parting knowledge in general, and a knowledge of the alphabet in ])articular. During the late great war, when many cities of France were beleaguered, the inhabitants, to place them- selves in communication with the outer world, were fain to use the primitive pigeon-post. Let the necessity of the case be the author’s apology for bis return, in these lessons on French Pro- nunciation, to the Philosopher’s ancient and garrulous expositions. The Lettees. § 1. The French alphabet contains strictly twenty-five letters. These have an old and a modern appellation, the former of which alone is used outside the class-room ; to it the learner should confine his attention. The letters pre- sent themselves in the same order as in English. As iv appears now and then in French works, * With the old appellation the letters, considered as common substantives, belong to the masculine gender,, with the exception of/, h, I, m, w, r, g, which are femi- nine. When using the old name, say, therefore, ccrire UNE ej^e^ to write an f; and say ecrire vn fe whera using the new, t The d part of the English g and./ must be care- fully avoided in these consonants, which in French are^ simple. t “ Can only be taught verbally,” say all compilers of grammars, and so say we. If you are in Scotland,, listen to the newsb oys crying “Illustrated Ntwg! ” If you fail meeting a Frenchman, ask an educated Ger- man to pronounce for you the word iiber. If those opportunities fail, attempt this : place the tip of the tongue to the base of tho lower teeth, shape the lips as4 for whistling ; then, without forcing the voice or moving the organs in the least, endeavour to say ee. You will ahnogt obtain the sound. § With the excejition of tcallon, feminine wallonne, and a few words found in old French and not quotedi b.y the Academip, w appears in no common nouns but. in those imported from the English, such as toarrant,, whirl, whigt, whigJceg and trawway, which the French* student is taught to pronounce as in English ; whereas w in wallon and «'(7yo« (for is pronounced like^ V. In common nouns borrowed from the German, w is not retained — e.fj., vasistas (a practicable window- pane), from was igt dag? Vermont (wormwood), from tcermuth. In proper nouns tv is pronounced according to the respective languages : for Vile de TViyht say Leel de Wight ; for la ville de Worms say /a veeU de Vorms. II In the whole of this column pronounce the singl*' e as u in stud, reducing the sound to a mere whisper. ANCIENT HISTORY. 29 Vowels. Simple. — A, d — e, e, f?, e — i, % — 6 — w, u — y. Compound. — JE., ai, at, an, ay—eau, c,, cu, ed, ey — oe, oen, on, oil. N'asal. — ^1//?, aim, an, am, aon — ehi, en, em, cun — in, im — on, om — nn, urn — yn, ym. Consonants. Guttural. — y before a, o, u — c before a, o, u — Jc — q — eh in certain cases. Rental. — d — t. Labial. — b — p—f. Semi-vowels. — r—l — n — ll {moulllees, i.e. liquid), gn soft ; v, w, j, g before e, i. Sibilant. — s — x — t in certain cases — c before e, i — cli. Remaric. — The compound vowels represent single sounds, and should therefore not be called diphthongs, a term which, according^ to the best authorities, should only be applied to two vowel sounds pronounced in one ejfort of the voice. The two sounds cannot be produced simultaneously ; they come in succession, but so rapidly that they smoothly blend together. The diphthongs met with in French are ; (1) Those formed by a simple vowel preceding a simple vowel : — (also v/a) . Hard, farthing (liar); royal, regal (roi-iaV). ie (also ye) . luml'ere, light (lu-ml'e-re) ; bruyere, heather (bru-i'c-re). io (also yo) . jiole, vial (fio-le) ; il rayonne, it radiates (rai-ionne). oe .... nwelle, marrow (moe-lle). oi (also oy) . emploi, use (em-qdoi) ; employer, to use (em-ploi-ier). ue ... . usually given as a diphthong, is properly a double syllable. M. Littre pronounces, in prose as in verse: muet. mutuely mer, tiie, etc., vm-et, mit-tu-el, su-er, tii-e, etc. m (also uy) . apptd,svLY)i)OTt(ap-pui),apptiycr, to support (ap- 2 ?ui-ier). (2) Those formed by a simple vowel before or after a compound vowel : — iai (also yai) blais, slanting (bial) ; je rayai, 1 stroked (ral-iai). iau (also yau) math'iaux, materials (rlau) ; noyau, fruit-stone (noi-iau). ieu (also yen) milieu, middle (mi-lleul) ; moyeu nave of a wheel (moi-ieu). iou (also you) pioupiou, nickname given to the privates of the centre or 2nd batallion of a French line regiment (piou-plou') ; voyou, street arab (vol-iou). one .... fouet, whip (fou'e) ; ouest, west (ouest). oui . . . . fouine, polQ-QTd, (foui-ne'). (3) Those formed by a simple or compound vowel preceding a nasal sound : — ian (also yan) diantre, euphemism for dlable (dian-tre) ; ayant, having (ai-ian). ien (also yen) bien, good (bien) ; moyen, means (moi-ien). ion (also yon) espion, spy (es-pion) ; rayon, ray (rai-io7i). oin .... coin, corner (coin), ouen . . Saint- Chicn, name of a town. ouin .... marsQuin, porpoise (mar-souin). uin . . , . suint, greasiness (suin). BY GEORGE R. EMERSON. I. The period included in tlie domain of Ancient History is generally understood to have termi- nated with the destruction of the Western Roman empire by the barbarians in the latter part of the fifth century. The annals of the succeeding ages belong to Mediaeval and Modern History, subjects of other articles. Ancient history, therefore, relates the stories, so far as they can be collected, of the great empires and states of remote antiquity — Babylonia, Assyria, Egypt, Media, Persia, and Judah ; of the Greek kingdom and republics, and of the Roman empire, described, in no light figure of speech, as “ the mistress of the world.” The early history of all the nations of anti- quity is obscured by a haze of legend and mythology ; isolated events are recorded on monuments and in- scriptions, and in cases where the ^ records are more consecutive, the difficulties offered by strange alphabetical characters and the use of hieroglyphics are great. The student of histoiy is embarrassed by finding records of dynasties extending over periods almost rival- ling geological epochs i!i extent, and which can only be explained by the supposition that the ancient inscribers had a different mode of reckoning time to that now adopted, or that many contemporaneous events were recorded as consecutive. Before the discovery of the art of writing, and indeed long afterwards, when to be able to read and write Avas the privilege of a small hieratic or priestly class, legend was the history of the many, — legend which was regardless of dates or proba- bilities, which grew in dimensions as it passed from mouth to mouth through succes- sive ages, which united incongruous persons and the wildest narratives to the central figures of heroes chosen by the popular mind to embody the popular idea of the origin and early history of a nation. The mytho- logical tendency inseparable from a primitive condition of mankind intensifies the difficulty of obtaining clear views of events. Unusual and remarkable occurrences were attributed to direct supernatural influence ; the pheno- mena of nature were supposed , , . to be produced by the direct intervention of gods or demi- gods — the latter, earthly heroes who had been translated after death to another sphere, and invested with special attributes as the direct result of intercourse between divine personages and the human race. The un- cultivated mind was incapable of conceiving any idea of perfection, of greatness or liap})i- ncss beyond its own experience ; and the divinities of the primitive pantheon fought, loved, and banqueted, and were as ferocious and sensual as the strong men whose force of 30 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. character made them petty kings in the early times. The gods and goddesses were only more powerful or more beautiful men and women ; and, by a natural and easy transition, the warrior whose prowess was most renowned, the ruler whose natural sagacity was greatest, and the queen whose charms were most admired, were added to the list of potent divinities. Supernatural beings were suj)posed to inter- fere continually in the affairs of daily life ; to animate the winds and waves, the woods and fountains ; to influence birth, marriage, and death; to be capable of propitiation by offerings, to be susceptible to praise and flattery. To gods and demi-gods were attri- buted the building of cities, the foundation of states. The men whose vigour of character and superior sagacity had made them the natural leaders of warlike hordes or simpler pastoral people, were soon invested with supernatural attributes ; and histoiy possessing no authentic record of their lives and actions, they speedily passed into the domain of legend and myth. The in- ability of the uncul- tured mind to con- ceive abstract ideas led to the imperson- ation of mental and moral qualities ; the very words express- ing them were trans- formed into proper names ; and the his- torical student of monuments and le- gendary narratives is confronted with a host of personages who had never more than a shado^vy ex- istence, as unreal as the spirits who were supposed to dwell in trees or to be em- bodied in the little from the hillsides. The legendary and mythical histories of all the great empires of antiquity begin with the direct intervention of the more The Heroic powerful divinities, or with the reign of demigod heroes. There is no aiffhentic material for the historian to work with in constructing a history of the early nations of the world — the Hebrew Scrip- tures excepted— of an older date than about the middle of the third millennial period before the Christian era ; then Assyria, Babylon, and Egypt begin to emerge from the region of myth and legend, but only emerge by the aid of the enterprise and unwearying activity of the modern spirit of investigation, which discovers monuments and inscribed records buried under the accumulations of thousands of years, and ])y their aid tests the accuracy of long-accepted narratives. Astronomical science, by affording the means of calculating the time when certain phenomena, such as eclipses or streams which flowed the appearance of comets, occurred, referred to in traditions, gives a key to chronolog}' ; and the scientific systematic study of the affinities of language throws a flood of light on the his- tory of race and nation. Gradually the histories of the old world are being divested of the myths and legends which have clung around them, and it is possible to constnict^®^°^°^^^se3 a narrative^fragmentary, it is true, but still authentic so far as it goes — of the leading events connected with the rise and fall of the ancient empires. To do so is the laborious but repaying work of the modern historian. As the archa3ologist examines the fallen remains, the shattered fragments of a temple or palace of antiquity, and is able from that which is left to conjecture the nature of what is missing, and so ascertain, by a Knowledge of the essential principles of archi- tecture, wnth an almost certainty of general accuracy, the form and dimensions of the antique struc- ture, so the histori- cal inquirer finds, by an investigation and comparison of monu- ments and inscrip- tions, by the aid of comparative philo- logy, and a careful estimate of the value of geographical, cli- matic, and other considerations, the means of divesting- the facts of ancient history of the clus- tered legends and myths which distort their foian and per- vert their signifi- cance. There is another and a smaller class. DEITIES. - 1 • 4. • 1 -j.- or historical critics — chiefly among German scholars— who, starting from the accepted position we have referred to, that in the early ages myths, there was a tendency to personify, not only abstract ideas, but physical phenomena, have concluded that that tendency was universal ; that the old legends of heroes are exclusively figurative ; that, for example, the appearance, full development of poiver, and glorious death of a great warrior or ruler, as mythically related, was only an endeavour to sjunbolize the rising and the setting of the sun ; that, because the same daily course of nature was personified in Greek poetry, the personification was therefore general in primitive times, and that Abraham,, for example, was as entirely n “ solar myth ” as Aurora. To reason in this manner is to. exclude all fair corroborative evidence derived from other sources than tradition. The more un})rejudiced historian carefully examines, and decides after a full survey of all attainable materials for arriving at a clear judgment. If, after such a study, many prominent figures. ANCIENT IIISTOIIY. 33 1 ®, disappear from the scene, many events change their actual or relative dimensions or import- ance, others will be more firmly established as absolute persons and undoubted facts. Historical criticism, besides investigating and sometimes destroying the old legends, is in many cases compelled to repudiate as actually false or partially untrustworthy the popular narratives which for centuries have been re- garded as veritable history. 8ome Greek and Roman historians readily ac- Poemsand cepted poems transmitted from Legends. generation to another of ignorant men, and legends also orally trans- mitted, and growing and changing as they passed from mouth to mouth, as genuine bases on which to rear historical fabrics ; and more modern writers, previous to the rise of what may be described as critical historians, repeated and enlarged with additions derived from other sources, and frequently of equally little value, the narratives they found ready to their hand. It is not too much to say that the topographical researches and discoveries of Botta, Layard, Rawli n son, and Smith have shown the long accepted histories of Assyria and Babylon, as related by the Greek histo- rians, to be little more than splendid romances. The examination of Egyptian mo- numents has systematized our knowledge of Egyptian histoiy,and disposed of many mythical persons ; and certainly, in the case of the Italian states which preceded the foundation of Rome, and especially in respect to the early times of the Roman republic, a vast amount of information has been gained, and a vast amount of legendary narrative swept away, by the labours of such investigators as Niebuhr, Arnold and Merivale. The most trustworthy sources of information respecting the condition of the people and states of the world at the earliest epochs Sources of which we have any cognizance now e ge. narratives of the Hebrew ScT-ipturcs ; the contributions to history by Herodotus, the Greek traveller and writer, tested as to general accuracy by modern discove- ries : the results of ethnological researches, by which identity of race, as shown in physical and mental peculiarities, is proved ; the elabo- rate analysis of the languages, by which the common origin of widely diffused nationalities is established, and the many streams of hu- manity are traced back to their source, the locality of which is fixed with considerable exactitude ; and the discoveries of long hidden buildings, and of the method of deciphering CrXEIFOEM INSCKIPTIOX inscriptions. To each of these subjects it will be well to give some special attention. Whatever sceptical or “ destinictive ” criticism may effect, it remains an incontrovertible fact that the Old Testament contains the oldest literary productions in The Hebrew the world. The Homeric poems, by enptures. whomsoever written, are by all the best critics, assigned to a date subsequent to the reign of Solomon, and therefore five or six hundred years after the composition of the Pentateuch. The earliest Greek historians, Herodotus and Thucydides, wrote three or four centuries after- wards, and were contemporaries of Ezra and Nehemiah, the latest of the Old Testament historians. There is in these early Biblical re- cords a coherence of narrative, a copiousness of detail, a geographical accuracy, and an accord- ance with information obtained from other sources, that impress the candid student with a confidence in their general trustworthiness, even if the chronological critics have not agreed as; to the precise dates when certain events took place. But any difficulties of that kind which may be esta- blished and exist, do not affect the gene- ral probability of the histori- cal narrative, the main inci- dents of which are corrobo- rated by the discoveries of modern sci- ence and the results of re- cent explora- tions. There is, besides, a marked human individuality about the personages, which no legendary or mythical characters exhibit. They are not abnormally endowed, either physically or men- tally. They have the thoughts, feelings, wants, and frailties of our common human nature ; their surroundings are precisely those which a pastoral people in the first place, and a strong: and warlike people afterwards, would possess. Political conditions are described, and the- causes which led to convulsion and change — internal rebellions and external attacks — in accordance with all we know of the philosophy of history ; and the mental peculiarities of the race whose histoiy is related — an enthusiastic, imaginative, and gifted people — are exactly in accordance with those of the modern people whom we know, by the common consent of all later history, to bo descended from them. The oldest of the Greek historians was Hero- dotus, a man of considerable culture and experi- ence, who travelled extensively for . thattime, visited Egypt, the coasts and shores of Asia Minor, Pales- tine, Phoenicia, and extended his journeys to Babylon and the countries on the coast of the Black Sea. He had access to all the :T-T 32 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. information accessible at the time; and al- though, being unacquainted with the languages of Egypt and Babylonia, he was dependent to a considerable extent u])on the statements of the priests and other custodians of records, he care- fully discriminates betweeii what he saw and what he was told, and he saw enough of buildings, people, manners and eustoms, to enable him to aecumulate a great amount of unquestionably trustworthy information res])0Cting the condi- tion and history of the ])laces he visited. His de- scription of Egypt, and his account of its annals, supplied to him chiefly by the priests, have been to a considerable extent eorroborated by the investigations of modern scholars. Itappcars, too, as the result of reeent diseoveries, that he had a much clearer view of Assyiian and Babylonian history than was ]) 0 ssessed by the Greek historian and jfliysician, Ctesias, who lived for many years at the coin’t of Persia in the following century, and compiled a history of the former empires, whieh was adopted by Greek rulers in preferenee to that of Herodotus, a,nd which fonned the basis of sueceeding histories until modern research proved its worthlessness, and remitted it, with its showy but ])hautom figures of Semiramis and the luxurious Sardanajialus — the latter a veritable Greek of the Alcibiades type — to the region of fiction. Professor the Pvcv. George Pawlinson, one of the best authorities, author of the “Great Monarchies of the Ancient World,” says of Ctesias, “The covp de (j race has been given to his small remaining rci)utation by the recent cuneiform discoveries, which convict him of having striven to rise into notice by a system of ‘ enormous lying,’ to which the history of litci aturc scarcely presents a parallel.” BY H. L. LEARY, D.C.L. (OXON.) I. ^ Introductory. In introducing the reader to this series of easy lessons in the Latin language — by means of which we trust he will learn that language more quickly, easil}’’ and thoroughly than by any other method, even without the help of a master (though such help is always desirable, even with the advantage of the best books to guide) — we must first point out the advantages to be derived from a study of Latin, as well as the very best way the student can profit b}'' these lessons, with a word or two concerning the character and the career of that famous ancient people the Koraans, who spoke and wrote the Latin language. In the first place, it is impossible to under- stand thoroughly our own English language without a considerable knowledge of Latin, which enters so very largely into it by way of composition and derivation. Now, the Latin words which have come into the English language as compounds of Latin words, or as derived from Latin with a slight alteration of form, differ very materially from the Saxon or native element of our language in this — that they do not explain themselves, as Saxon compounds or Saxon derived words do, at first sight, but they need explanation, and for this reason may be easily misunderstood and mis- applied by those who are ignorant of Latin. A very large number of English words com- pounded and derived from the Latin, which are often like one another in appearance and sound but very unlike in meaning, will not merely puzzle, "but even materially mislead ; whereas a knowledge of the Latin language from which they come, and the meaning of which they carry with them, will supply the meaning of the root word, and of the various prepositions or particles embodied in the compound or derived word, and so will give the key to unlock what would, or rather what must, be otherwise a closed door to one of the richest treasuries of our own mother-tongue. Let us give a few simple examples of this. The word culture comes to us from the Latin cultura, tilling or cultivation ; and we have it in many words as a suffix of the compound — as in agriculture, Iwrtlcult'urc, pisciculture. The first of these words is made up of ager, the Latin for a field, and cultura, Latin for cultivation ; the second is made up of Iiortus, the Latin word for a garden, and cultura, Latin for cultivation ; and “ pisciculture ” is made up of piscis, Latin for a fish, and cultura, cultivation. Take again the Latin root Jlect, to bend, which we find in the English words reflection, inflec- tion, deflection. Here reflection is literally “ back-bending.” the Latin preposition re meaning “back”; inflection is “on-bending,” the preposition in meaning “.on” ; and deflcctiojt is “down-bending,” the preposition rfe meaning “down.” Then in genuflexion we have a compound made up of the Latin genu, the knee, and fleeto, to bend ; and in the English inflexible we have another Latin compound, made up of m, not, and fleet o, to bend ; according to the general rule — which we hope will always be remembered — that when the Latin in occurs in an English compounded adjective it means “ not,” being almost always negative, as in such words as inflexible, impos- sible, insincere, intangible, invisible, invul- nerable ; but when it occurs in a compound English verb or noun, in generally means “ in” or “ upon,” as impress and imjn'cssion, a pressure made upon (from Latin in, upon, and premo, to press), induct and induction, from in, into, and duco, to lead. So you will see by the last example, and the rule we give, how useful a knowledge of Latin is to prevent mis- takes in the use of English words derived from the Latin. In the study of English grammar, and of grammar generally, you will find Latin of inestimable service in understanding the tech- nicalities of grammar, as most of the technical terms are derived from Latin. Let us give some instances of this. The words rule, term, deflnite, plural, singula?', noun, a?'ticle. LATIN. S3 pronoun, verb, yavticiple, number, person, are all of Latin origin. “ Rule” is from the Latin regula; “article” from the Latin articulus, a little joint ; “ term” from the Latin terminus, a boundary ; •* definite ” from the Latin dejinere, to bind off ; “ plural ” from the Latin plures, more ; “ participle ” from the Latin participare, to partake of (as the parti- ciple shares the nature of a verb and an adjec- tive) ; “ number” from the Latin numerus, num- ber; “singular” from the Latin singuli, each one ; “noun ” from nomen, a name ; “ pronoun” ixompro nomine, tor a noun; “ verb” from ver- bum, a word, for the verb is the chief word in a sentence, as you cannot make a sentence without a verb, though you can make one without any other part of speech. We must also add that a large proportion of our law terms come from Latin, such as magistrate, senate, decree, etc., as the Romans were the greatest of ancient legislators. To show something of the large pro- portion of the Latin element in our language, we shall quote from Cowper, whose vocabulary is much less Latinized than Milton’s and many other poets. These lines seem at first all Saxon. “ When I think of my own native land. In a moment I seem to be there, But, alas, recollection at hand Soon hurries 'ine back to despair." But even here the words “ native,” “ moment,” “ recollection.” “ my,” “in,” “I,” “me,” and “ despair,” are all of Latin origin. In Milton, line after line might be quoted filled with scarcely anything but words of classical, and especially Latin origin — such as “sonorous sound ” and “ martial music.” Our next reason for advising the study of Latin is this : it is not only, as we have shown, a key to our own language, but it is a key — rather the key — to most ; modern Continental languages, especially those of Latin origin, such as the Italian, French, Spanish, and Portuguese, which are more or less so many corrupt dialects of the old classical tongue of Imperial Rome, who carried her language into almost all the countries she conquered by her arms and governed so long by her laws. Now, a sound and diligent Latin scholar will easily acquire a competent know- ledge of the Continental languages, because ke will find in them so striking a similarity to the Latin. Take, for example, such words for the English “ man ” as the French liomme and the Italian uomo, — and mark how like each is to the Latin word homo, from which it has been derived. _ Then we want you to notice that the gramma- tical precision and regularity of Latin is the best possible training to make a good grammarian, — for Latin is, above and beyond all other languages, the most inflexible and mechanical in its laws and rules, and is on this account the best adapted to teach the general laws of grammar, and to illustrate and enforce the principles of philology on which all grammatical laws are built. The faultless correctness of Latin grammatical structure makes it the best of all educational instruments for purposes of gram- matical instruction. In this Latin stands alone, and for this the Romans were styled a nation VOL. I. of grammarians. Even the greatest of Roman ■ statesmen and warriors took a delight in ana- lysing the grammatical structure of a sentence and fixing the spelling of a word. A knowledge f of scientific grammar was coeval with the very ' birth of Roman literature ; and hence it was ■ that the art of composition, as well as its ■science, went hand in hand from the very first. Further, we may add that the study of Latin is a most etfectual method of mental discipline, to say nothing for the present of the magnificent ■ literature of which it is the key — the orations ' of Cicero, the poetry of Virgil and Horace, • and the histories of Livy and Tacitus. It does not take away time from other studies, as it ' virtually multiplies time by increasing the intellectual capacity for work. A student ' whose wits are made keen and incisive by learning Latin will not only do twice as much i intellectual work in half the time as a student whose knowledge is exclusively limited to English, but he will do it more intelligently,, and with a better chance of retaining it in his memory and applying it more effectually to practical purposes of life. And lastly, we are sure you cannot take any ' more effectual course of cultivating a good • English style than by exercising yourself in the habit of translating into worthy English ' the masterpieces of the most elegant and perfect Latin authors, such as Cicero, and by translating English into Latin, when you will ' be obliged to analyse carefully every sentence, ■ weigh every word and phrase, put them into ‘ their right places and their right forms, and consider their effect upon each other by collo- cation. If the perfection of style is, as it has been well defined, “the right word in the • right place,” there is nothing can teach it so effectually as the proper study of Latin. It is not at all, therefore, a matter of surprise that ‘ the two greatest masters of English style were ' both great classical scholars, — John Milton, whose prose is as marvellously beautiful and powerful as his poetry ; and De Quincey, whose prose has never been surpassed for its majestic • rhythm, its perfect grace and polish, as well as ■ its sonorous eloquence. The Latin language was the language of Latium, of which Rome was the chief city ; ' and it formed a branch of the old Italic- language, which was made up of various- ’ dialects, such as the Oscan, Umbrian, and others. According to Mommsem, our best au- thority, the Italic race was not the aboriginal race of Italy, but a conquering, immigrant Aryan race, of a far higher civilization and of a far more martial character, whose chief seat of of power was in Latium, a sort of county, as we :• should topographically speak, of which Rome was the capital ; hence we have the term Latin as applied to their language, and Romans as applied to the people. By conquest the Latin speech was extended over the whole of Italy, and in dialectic forms to adjacent countries. Before, however, entering upon the lessons , which are now before yon, we must ask you very carefully to follow the directions we are now going to give for your special advantage, ' 3 34 TUE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. based as they are upon many years’ successful experience as a public and private teacher of the classical languages. In the first place, never begin a subsequent lesson until you have thoroughly mastered the lesson before it ; make the ground firm and the way clear as you go on, and this you will best do by reading aloud and committing to memory, as w'cll as writing out from memory, comparing what you have written with our lesson, and by answering in detail the questions for self-examination which we shall give at the end of each lesson. Secondly, when you have carefully gone through one special and distinct division, such as the verb, or noun, or adjective, go over it all again before entering upon a new division ; this will enable you not only to retain better what you have learned, but will give you additional power to extend your conquest afterwards. We shall begin our question method at once, by asking you to apply it to this introduction and to answer the following questions on paper after a careful study of this introductory chapter. Self-Examination Questions. What is the object of these lessons? Men- tion in detail the several distinct advantages to be gained by a study of Latin. Explain the origin of the term “ Latin ” as applied to the language of the Romans, and also the origin of the term “ Romans.” To what race did the old Latins belong, and what was their character ? How was the Latin language spread ? Show that in studying grammar a knowledge of Latin is doubly useful. Give instances of compound and derived words in English which can be only understood properly and fully by means of a knowledge of Latin. What are the two senses of the Latin word in in composition with English words ? Illustrate this by examples. Of what use is a knowledge of Latin in studying French, Italian, or Spanish ? Illustrate this by an example. Is a knowledge of Latin of any use in culti- vating a good English style ? Show this, and mention any great writers of English prose who were eminently distinguished as classical scholars. Mention any la7v terms or gram- matical terms we get from the Latin. What do you know of the value of Latin literature ? Mention some of the greatest writers. Write out our two rules for profiting by these lessons in Latin. TI- Among the events of the fifteenth century which prepared the stage of the world for the great drama to be enacted in the Maxitime ^s- history of modern times, must noticed the important maritime discoveries. Throughout the whole century exploration by sea was steadily pursued. The two nations to whom is due the credit of being pioneers in the task of enlarging the limits of the world are the Portuguese and the Spaniards. The fonner pursued their discoveries towards the east, along the African coast ; the latter bore away across the Atlantic towards the west. Prince Henry, called “the Sailor ”(d. 1460), caused expeditions to be fitted out for the exploration of the great Atlantic ocean ; and among the results of Portuguese enterprise during this century were the successive discoveries of the island of Madeira, the Canary Islands, and the Azores, — then of Cape Bojador, Cape Palmas,and Cape Verde on the African coast. Still pursuing the course through the great South Atlantic, the bold navigator Bartholomew Diaz at length reached the Stormy Cape (the CaboTormentoso), whose name, now that the southern point of the great continent had at length been reached, and there was a prospect of getting to India at last, was ap- Maritimeroute propriately changed to the Cape of Good Hope. This was in 1486 ; and twelve years later, in 1498, the efforts of the Portuguese in the fifteenth century appropriately closed with the landing of Vasco de Gama at Calicut, on the Malabar coast of India, and the solution of the great problem of the maritime route to the east. Thus — “Commerce on other shores displayed her sail,” and the monopoly of trade to the East, hitherto enjoyed by the Italian republics, was broken up. Spain came later into the field. Her power and influence had been greatly increased by the union of Aragon and Castile through the marriage of Ferdi- Spain— nand and Isabella. But those and sovereigns were engaged in put- ® ting an end to the empire of the Moors in the south ; and it was not until New Year’s Day of 1492 that they made their triumphal entry into Granada, expelling thence the w'eak Boab- dil “ el Chico ” (the child), the slothful prince whom his stern mother scornfully bade “ weep like a woman over what he could not defend like a man.” But when the cessation of the war left Isabella at leisure to listen to the earnest appeal of Christopher Columbus, the memorable expedition of three ships (two of them being mere half-decked caravels or coast- ers) sailed from the haven of Palos ; and on the 12th of October in the same year that great dis- coverer cast anchor on the coast of the island of Guanahani, or, as he called it, San Salvador. His second voyage (1493) completed the disco veiy of the greater West Columbus and India Islands; and on his third (1498) he landed on the continent of the New World, not far from the mouth of the Orinoko. But the honour of giving his name to the New World was unjustly awarded, not to the real discoverer, but to the first describe!’ of the con- tinent, Amerigo Vespucci, whose voyage with Hojeda, one of the former companions of Columbus, took place in 1499, the year after that of Columbus, but was represented in the Latin work written by a German geographer HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 35 as having been Tsndertaken in 1497, the year iefore that of tlie admiral. The testimony of Hojeda himself, who, examined as a witness in a law-suit, deposed to having made the voyage in 1499, and to having /ew/nZ traces of the Admiral., is conclusive on the question. Among the events that prepared the way for the new era was the revival of learning, which was going on throughout all the The revival gf fifteenth cen- of learning. Constantinople in 1453 put an end to the Byzantine empire; and the Turks took possession of the one city of Europe where the ancient classical learning still survived. Driven from the Byzantine capi- tal, the learned men — Chrysoloras, Georgius of Trebizond, Laskaris, and others— carried away with them the learning of the an- cient world, which had been hon- oured and cultivated at Constanti- nople, while Europe was sunk in in- tellectu al barbarism and sloth. Italy was the country where the monuments of the grciit- ness of the anti q u e world roused the enthusiasm of princes and people for the trea- sures of classical learning. The scholas- ticism of the middle ages — the dry logic and dogmas, taught in exe- crable Latin — now became the laughing-stock of the new generation of students, men who upheld the “humanities,” and who saw in the wealth of philosophy and Progress and literature bequeathed by the an- 1 s opponen . ^i^^g -y^rorld to posterity the means of escaping from the intellectual fetters im- posed on knowledge by ecclesiastical tyranny. The old convents were accordingly ransacked for the manuscripts of classical authors copied by the industry of the monks in past centuries ; and many a literary treasure was thus brought to light. Not unfrequently the parchment leaves of an old volume had been covered with a preparation of white paint, and the surface thus obtained being written over, the old iron- clasped book had been used for the purposes of the convent; when, however, the leaves were carefully scraped, and the artificial surface was removed, there appeared underneath a classic work, quite unintelligible to the good fathers, who had utilized the volume perhaps as an account-book. Such volumes with a double surface were called palimpsests. The Italian rei)ublics were then at the height of their prosperity and grandeur ; and thus Italy became especially the land where the revived learning The Italian of ancient times found encour- patrons of agement and appreciation. The l®ar^g:the grand family of the Medici in ® Florence, and pre-eminently the Duke Lorenzo, aptly surn.amed “ the Magnificent,” patronized and fostered classical learning, science and art in Italy. The Aldine editions of the Greek classics, afterwards famous as specimens of typography, issued from the print- ing-offie e of Aldus Manutius, in Venice ; the learned liaurentius Valla wrote against the errors of the scholastics, and pro- duced a com- mentary on the Holy Scriptures ; others q u i c k 1 y joined him ; and scon the controversy between the men of the middle ages and the men of the new ideas — the Humanists and the Obscurants — was fiercely earned on. Many new universities were also established in continental Europe, especially in Germany — at Cologne, Leipsic, Tubingen, Marburg, Eostock, and many other plaees. The interchange of ideas between the members of these learned institutions became lively and constant; and thus a new intellectual activity was diffused tlmoughout all Europe. Among a number of great names connected with the stirring up of the human mind in those wonderful days of prepara- tion, that of the learned Erasmus ” of Rotterdam stands honourably ° forth. Erasmus (b. 1407, d. 1636), — “that great honoured name, the gloiy of the priest- hood and the shame,” — was a citizen of the world, a travelled man, gladly received at many European courts, the friend in England of COXSTAXTIXOPLE FKOM TEE BOSPEOEUS. 36 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. the great Sir Thomas More — who himself, by ]iis Utopia, or the Ilappij Repuhlic, contri- buted not a little to the dissemination of the new and enlarged ideas of the time. Erasmus especially recommended the study of the Greek and the Hebrew. He prepared an edi- tion of the New Testament in the original Greek; and for a series of years published a number of pamphlets and treatises, in which the ignorance and errors of monachism and of the Scholastics are exposed with unmerciful and biting scorn. His Praise of Folly, a satire of this kind, is especially famous. Two other names — those of Reuchlin (b. 1465, d. 1522), and Ulrich von Hutten (b. 1488, d. 1623) — are scarcely less famous than that of Erasmus liimself in the celebrated contest between ignorance and pro- gress. Indeed, though far less learned than Erasmus, Reuchlin and Hutten w^ere much more in earnest ; for the great scholar of Rotterdam was somewhat of a man of the world, and paused half way in his career, even writing against the bold, fearless proceedings of Luther, and indirectly condemning the Reformation he had done so much to further ; whereas Reuclilin and Hutten fought the Obscurists tooth and nail. The discovery, at Amalfi, of the Pandects, or collection of ancient statutes made by order of the Emperor Justinian, helped The Pandects forward a better appreciation of discovered, principles of civil law. In other directions the progress was equally re- markable. The end of the fifteenth century witnessed the birth of many great artists, sculptors, and architects. The wealth of the Italian cities was lavishly spent in furthering the glories of art. As Goldsmith well ex- presses it, in his Traveller , — “ For wealth was theirs, nor far removed the date, When Commerce proudly flourished through the state ; At her command the palace learned to rise ; Again the long-fallen column sought the skies ; The canvas glowed, beyond e’en Nature warm.” Magnificent and art-loving popes, like Leo X. and J ulius II., patronized great paintem, sculp- tors, and architects. Rajihael Age of Leo X. ganzio (b. 1483, d. 1520), who Sc^^t^^nd Roman school of Architectoe. painting to its highest perfection ; Michael Angelo Buonarotti, the giant of art (b. 1474, d. 1563), whose name will be always associated with the architec- tural glories of St. Peter’s at Rome, and the frescoes representing the Creation in the Six- tine Chapel ; and Titian (b. 1477, d. 1576), the head of the Venetian school, contributed to the glories of this period. The age in which feudal and ecclesiastical tyranny had borne unrestricted sway over the bodies and souls of men — the age of contented ignorance and gross superstition — had passed away. Human society was awakening to a new life. The striving after knowledge and truth was taking a definite direction, and the means had been obtained by which it could be realized. Like a giant in its strength, the new era came forth to do battle with error and with wrong. The masses were no longer held in degrading mental servitude, — for they had found an intel- ligible Voice -wherewith to utter their com- plaints and make known their aspirations. They were no longer like “ An infant crying in the night. An infant crying for the light. And with no language but a cry.” HI. The Voice as an Instrument. Until a recent period, voice-trainers relied solely upon empiricism for their practice. Their ears told them when the tone emitted by their pupils’ txainmg. voices was good, and the distinction between the various registers or qualities in the same voice was equally a matter of observation. They knew little or nothing of the structure of the apparatus of the voice, and could not say nvhy or wherefore in the rules they gave and the methods they enforced. Moreover, know- ing so little of the delicate formation of the vocal organs, they were led to encourage singers to strain them beyond their proper strength— an act which ended in speedy ex- haustion. and in a gradual deterioration of the voice. It may be said at once that the voice is never injured by moderate and controlled use. On the contrary, like all physical organs, such use is of benefit to it. Even young children may be taught to sing with advantage, provided that excess be avoided. Their organs are pliant and flexible, and they will be better singers in after years if they learn early to shape and modu- late the tone of the singing voice. But shouting is, of course, more injurious to children than to adults, and the voice that has been made rough and ragged by over-exertion in childhood seldom regains its smoothness and rotundity. The objection which some people have to singing in chorus arises from the pre- valent habits of choirs. If tke voice be gently used, chorus singing will do it no harm, but if the singer shouts so as to be heard above kis fellows, as so many do, of course the harm is considerable. Those who wish to cultivate and strengthen their voices should sing much and often ; and chorus singing affords most valuable practice, which those who are wise wfill not lose. Voice-training naturally divides itself into three departments, — chest, larynx, and mouth;, in other words, the control of the breath, the proper use of the ^natural registers, and the production of vision, good tone. The apparatus of breathing is a wind-chest,, having at the back the backbone, at the sides and in front the ribs and breastbone, and at the bottom a muscular floor The breathing called the diaphragm. This dia- appara us. papagm is a membrane which stretches across the body, separating it into two MUSIC. 37 parts, with the heart and lunj^s above and the stomach and bowels below. The lungs, which fill the greater part of this wind-chest, are like two great sponges, full of cells containing air. The windpipe, which comes down from the throat, has a number of branches — the bron- 'Chial tubes — which run into these elastic sponges, the lungs. We need not describe the muscles which are needed for the act of breathing, but the singer should remember that such muscles exist, and that they require exercise. In men the lower ribs and diaphragm move chiefly in the act of breathing, but women make more use of the upper ribs. Were this not the case, it would be impossible for women wearing tight dresses to sing as . they do ; for clothing, unless it be the loosest, impedes the muscular action. It is said that a man who can inspire 130 cubic inches of air when dressed in ordinary clothing will inspire 190 when divested of clothing. The amount of muscular action which suffices for speaking is not enough for singing. The singer has longer tones to sustain, and must breathe deeper than the speaker. Fortu- nately the lungs are expansive. A pair of lungs which, when filled with the ordinary effort, hold 230 cubic inches of' air, can be made to hold, by means of a deep inspiration, 330; that is, nearly half as much air again. The singer has also to learn to economise breath — to hold it in and spend it gradually. The nose should be used for drawing in breath rather than the mouth. At first let each prac- tice be prefaced by muscular exercises in hold- ing and slowly emitting breath. Muscular gQ increase the capacity and exercises, restraining power of the lungs. Let the student try to hold on a single tone as long as he can, stopping at the point just short •of exhaustion, so as not quite to empty the lungs. The instrument of voice which we all have in our throats is called the larynx. Every one can feel the lump in the throat, e arynx. larger in men than in women and children. It stands on the wind- pipe, and in ordinary breathing the air passes up and down through it freely. But when the voice is to be produced, either in speaking or singing, it is nearly closed by two elastic cushions with sharp edges, which are called, rather inappropriately, the “vocal cords.” These rise into the open space, one from each side, and so nearly join their edges together that only a thin slit is left, through which the air from the lungs passes. There is only one way in which sound of any sort or kind can be produced, and that is by vibrations imparted to the air. The vibrations which produce the voice take place through the air from the lungs being forced past the elastic edges of the vocal cords. They are first driven upwards, and then their elasticity causes them to rebound, w'hereupon they are driven upwards again — all this taking place with infinite rapidity, so that the successive puffs of air link themselves into a musical note. The production of sound will be more fully explained in a subsequent chapter ; meanwhile we can only say that the the OPEN FOR BREATniNG. pitch of a sound produced from cords is according to (a) the thickness; (i) the tension ; (c) the length of the vocal cords. To understand these vocal cords, let us look down upon them from above. The invention of the laryngoscope of Signor Manuel The Garcia enables us to do this. The laryngoscope, laryngoscope (larynx-seer) is a simple mirror, which has a handle, and resembles a spoon. It is placed right at the back of the mouth, over the throat. Besides this there is a reflector, which a person operating upon himself holds in front of his mouth and within view of his eyes. On the first mirror is shown the inside of the throat ; the second receives a reflection of the first, and thus the whole machinery of the larynx is exposed to view. The operation is more difficult than it seems ; for it is not easy to adjust the mir- rors and keep them in place while sing- ing, and the wide-open mouth that is neces- sary takes all plea- santness from the tone. First, we may look down and see the glottis, or slit between the cords, open as in breathing. The voice is now silent. Second, we Different may see the lips or vocal cords registers, vibrating in their whole breadth and thickness, and producing what some voice - trainers (but not all) call the “ chest register,” but what we propose to call the “ thick regis- ter,” because it is pro- duced by the whole thickness of the cord vibrating. The reader wdll hardly need to be told that vibrating. the voice never originates either in the “chest ” or the “head,” as the nomenclature of some writers and voice-trainers wmuld lead us to suppose. It has its origin always in the vocal cords in the wind- pipe. Third, we may see the thin edges of the vocal cords vibrating alone, and pro- ducing what is sometimes called the “ falsetto ” or “ throat ” register, but which we shall call the“ thin regis- ter,” because of its being produced by the thin edges of the vocal cords. By means of the laryngoscope, the naked eye may clearly seethe fluttering of the vocal cords in the thick register, but in the thin register the vibrations are too rapid to be seen. The cords ajipear to stand close together. THE THIN EDGES VIBRATING. 38 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. II. Observations on the Pronunciation op Particular Letters. The Pronunciation of the Von'els. An ^ after a vowel makes the vowel long — thus 5[)?ol;n, poppy (pronounced moan), fault (pronounced Fail'-Z6'/7'). The letter a is always pronounced as in the English word father — that is to say, always ah and never ay ; though, like the rest of the vowels, it is short before a double consonant. The German e at the end of a word, unac- | cented, is like the e in the English word river. \ The long e is like the English a in ray ; the short one like tHe c in net. . , The long t is pronounced like ce in/^rZ— thus | ‘the name Ida is in German pronounced V'E.'-dah; j the short i is like the English i in inn. i An e inserted after an i makes it long — as j hienen, to serve, pronounced dee'-«cw. The long o and the short o are ])ronounced respectively as in the English words over and gone. The long u is like oo in the English food, the short like oo in hood. The letters ei in the same syllable are pro- nounced like the i in dine. Remarks on Consonants and Single Compounds. The German r is more strongly accented than the English r, except when it begins a word ; thus atm (foor) would be j^ronounced arrni. b at the end of a word is something like the English t ; at the beginning or in the middle, like the English d. The short d is used only at the end of a word or a syllable, and is hard like in the English gas. The long f and the capital 0 are soft, like in the English as. b at the end of a word has a sound some- what like 2^f j^^st as d in the same position approaches to t; but they are not identical j with j? and t. j b in the middle or at the end of a syllable or \ word is silent ; but makes the vowel preceding ] it long. I tb is therefore like t only, as in the English j Thomas (which is why Germans say tiss and j tat or dat for this and that, pi; is like /, as in the English Philip. d) {ch) is very important, as the sound is not exactly found in English. It is in German treated as a single consonant ; , at the begin- ning of a word, or before an s (in the same syllable), it is pronounced like the ch in the English character. In other positions it is pronounced just as an Irishman would sound the ch in exclaiming ‘‘ Och. your honour,*’ or crying och-hone — or as a North Briton would speak of the clachan (not claCKan) of Abcr- foyle. The eh should be particularly noted ; for that and the o and ii are the only German letters not represented in English. g in the middle or at the end of a word is pronounced like a softened d;. 3 is pronounced like ts. is used instead of 33 and is pronounced like the single letter. ^ is used instead of ff at the end of a word or a syllable, and is pronounced like ss. fd; in German correspor.ds to sh in English, and is pronounced like sh. ng is always pronounced as one sound, as in singer — not separately, as in finger. In writing German, all nouns and words used as nouns are begun with a capital letter. The accent is generally on the radical syllable, the one which expresses the original idea of the word. For instance, in the English word “ overthrowing,” throw is the radical syl- lable. In words of two syllables the accent is generally on the first. In dividing words into syllables, where there is a double consonant after a vowel the two letters belong to dilferent syllables — as feilsnen, Ihif'fen, to know. A single consonant is taken on to the syllable that follows it — as (hay' -tun), to pray. Leading Lesson. — Words to be Pronounced. (These words should be learnt by heart as a vocabulary for future use.) :Dad -^aud, bet S3aum, bie 2l?aitd, ber 2:raum, das House dare Bon-m'^ dee Mouse dare Tron'ni" The house the tree the mouse the dream cin Slid), cine 53ccre, ber S5obcn, bad 33ieb, cynBooclC eyne Bear'-e^ dareBoh!-den das Fee a book a berry the ground the cattle bie Siefe, bie Seife, bet ^ct 3 , ber SSein^ dee Vee-ze dee Vy'-ze dare Peltz dare Vine the meadow the manner the fur the wine ©ien, ber i'faifer, ber ..^afe, bie ^dufer, boU, Veen dare Ky'-zer dare kay-se dee IToi'-zer foil Vienna the emi^eror the cheese the houses full moden, mein, bein, fein, bad ^enfler, ber 35ac|), vol'-len mine dine zi-ne das Fen-stcr dare Bach to will my thy his (its) the window the brook bad .^'nie,® bie nuede, ber 0trom, bie d)Zutter, das knee dec QueV -Ic dare Strohm dee Mut'-ter^ the knee the spring the stream the mother ' The ow to be pronounced as in cow. ® The ow as in row, meanino: noise. ® Wherever the ch occurs, remember to pronounce it like the Irish och, or the Scottish loch, — not with the k sound, ock. * Wherever the final e occurs, pronounce it as you would in an English word ending in er, supposing the r not to be sounded — thus fender, oficer, porter, pro- nounced fend e(r), offic e(r), port-e(r), would give the exact sound. It is not the a sound. ® The k is pronounced before the n, as in the English name Brecknock. * ® The mut in mutter like the put in the putting ^ not like in the English verb to mutter. GERMAN. 39 bte @d;n?efier, bcr 55ruber, ba^ S5tob, bie dee Schves'-ter dare Broo'-der das Brolit dee the sister the brother the bread the mu^, bicnen, bie 53icne, ^rdf;en, ndl;en, Nnss’’ mvss deencn dee Bee-ne Kray-en nay-en nut must to serve the bee to crow to sew bte S^abet, bie 2Sod;e, ba^ tbat;r, fret, dee Na-del^ dee Vo-clie das yaar vaar fry the needle the week the year true free faitfen, greifen ber £)fen, bet 3:if(^, ba^ cow' -fen gry'-fen dare Oh'-fen dare Tish das to buy to grasp the oven (stove) the table the 3)?eiTer, bie ©abet, ba^ |)eu, ba^ 0trob, ba^ Mes'-ser dee Ga'-bel das Hoi das Stro das knife the fork the hay the straw the @ta^, bie S5irne, bie ^Htfcbe, ber ^fau, Grass, dee Beer'-ne dee Keer' -she dare Pfow grass the pear the cherry the peacock ba^ |)ubn, ber f)abn, bie |)enne, ber 35ogct, das Jloon dare Haan dee Hen-ne dare Foh-gel the fowl the cock the hen the bird ba^ tinb, ber (Snfet, ber 9tcffe, bie 9Jafe, das Idnnd dare En'-hel dare Nef'-fe die Naai-ze^ the child the grandson the nephew the nose ber 3)?iinb, ber ber ^taft, bie dare Moond dare Fing'-er dare Plats dee the mouth the finger the place the ^tiege, bie Siege, bie' garbe, ba5 ?ocb, bod;, Flee'-ge dee Vee'-ge dee Far' -be das Loch dock fly the cradle the colour the hole but nocb, ^ittioo^, ba^ 3in'n/‘“3ifbfn/3cigen, noch Mitt' -voch das Tsinn tsee'-en tsif-gen yet (still) Wednesday the tin to pull to shew bie 3cibt/ jittern, b^ute. dee tsaal tsay'-len tsit'-tern hoi'-te the number to count to tremble to-day It must be remembered also that the accent in dissyllabic words, in trisyllables, etc., is on the radical syllable — the one which gives the nature of the word, and not the inflection or termination. Thus,35ie'sne, 3i^b'=Ch, Punctuation. The chief marks of punctuation in the Ger- man language are the same as in English, namely ; — [ ,] ba^ ©omma, the comma. com! -m a [ ; ] ber Stritbpunf t, or ba^ 0cmicoton, the semi- strich'-poonkt say' -mee-co' Ion [colon, stroke- point [ : ] ber Soppetpunft, or ba^ ©oton, the colon. dop' -pel-x)oonkt double- point ’ The M in 'Nusz and Mmz as in the English pms^. * Remember the German a is always pronounced ah, as in the English /a^/ter ; but sometimes it is long and sometimes short. ® The single « pronounced like z. The 2 pronounced like ts. [ . ] ber ^Unft, the period, or full stop. dare poonht [ ? ] ba^ ^ragejeiibert, the note of interrogation. fra' -ge-tsey' -chen question-sign [!] bad Hudrufungdseicben, the note of OTVss' -roo-foongs-tsei' -chen [exclamation, out-calling sign [— ] ber ©ebanfcnflrid;, the dash. ge-dank' -en-strich’ thought-stroke The u in punft is pronounced like oo in the word “ poor.” On Gender, Number and Case in German. There are three genders of words in the German language, — the masculine, the feminine, and the neuter. Unlike English, all inanimate things do not belong to the neuter, or all living things to the masculine and feminine gender. Thus “ gar- den” is masculine, ber© artcn ‘-the wall” is feminine, bie SWauer {Mow' -err, pro- nounced like fewer) ; “the grass” is neuter, bad ©rad. There are certain rules for ascertaining the genders of woi’ds, which will be given in due course. There are, as in English, two numbers — the singular and the plural. Case, from the Latin cado, to fall, may be defined as the rank which certain words occupy in the sentence — in fact, the position in which they occur, or the place into wh-ich they fail. In English we recognise the nomi- native or governing case, which comes before the verb, governs it, and answers to the question who? or what ? — the possessive, mth the sign />/■ or the s with the apostrophe, denoting posses- sion, and answering to the question whose ? — and the objective, following the verb, governed by it, and answering to the question whom ? or w^hat ? asked with the verb. Nominative Possessive Objective I brought the boy’s hat. Who brought? — I (nominative). Brought whom or what? (objective). Whose hat? — The boy's (possessive). In German we recognise four cases : — I. The nominative, identical with the subjective case. IT. The genitive, answering to the possessive. III. Dative, or giving case, knowm by the sign TO, expressed or understood ; I give him (to him) a book, 3d; gcbc U;m ciu ^\\^){lch gay' -be eem eyn booch), il;m is here the dative. iV. The accusative, answering to the objective ; ein is the accusative in the foregoing sen- tence. Verbs govern different cases, or have different cases after them — that is to say, the word which follows the verb occupies a different position according to the nature of the verb. We call those verbs transitive (from trans, across, and ire, to go) where the action goes directly across to an object—when we ran ask, What person ? or wLat thing ? with the verb. Thus, to beat, fd;(agcn (pronounced shlah'-gen), to sec, fc^cn (zay'-en), to find, fiinbcn, are transitive verbs ; for we can beat, see, or find a person or a thing. Therefore we say that THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. ‘ 40 transitive verbs govern the accusative case. Example, the old German proverb— _ (vin guter fiircbtet ben ’ ine (as Qoo'-terr Am'hoss furcht-ct dane A good anvil fears the «^ammer niebt, Ilam'merr nicht (the i as in 'piU). hammer not. On the other Land, a verb like f|tei(ben {glych'-en, the y long as in cry), to resemble, to be like, governs the dative ; for if we say — The father resembles the son . , 2)er 33atcr gleicbt bent 0obne ' dare Vah'terr glycht dame zoh'-ne{r ) — it means, Tlie father is like unto his son ; and . therefore gteicbcn is followed by the dative case. Declension. The meaning of the word ‘‘to decline” is to bend downwards, to be depressed, either morally or physically : thus we have physically the declination of the earth — the bending down ■ or depression of the north pole from the point perpendicular to the earth’s orbit ; and morally the “ Declineof the Roman Empire,” as told by Gibbon — the history of the depression or bend- ing down of the mighty mistress of the world from her former grandeur. In grammar, accordingly, declension is the bending down of a word from the nominative or independent, through various stages, to the accusative or suffering case. In old grammars the cases ' were thus shown ; The nominative, called the Rcctvs casvs, or upright case, was represented by a perpendicular line, to indicate its indepen- dence, — it stands by itselr ; the genitive, from gigno, to beget, had a sloping line ; the dative, the giving case, declined or bent down more than the genitive; and the accusative, objective, or suffering case, was the horizon- tal line, expressing dependence, in contrast to the upright nominative. The Latin has two more cases ; the vocative (from voco, I call), in which a person or thing is addressed — “ Come, O Lord,” Veni, Demine; and the ablative, known by the signs from, by, with, etc., signifying a taking away, and therefore in a certain sense the opposite of the dative or giving case. There are no vocative and ablative case in German, ' because the person or thing addressed is always put in the nominative (not like the Latin Deminus, a lord, Demine, O Lord), and for the ablative, the dative case is used in German. Thus in the sentences — • (Sr gab U)m ein S5u(b, he gave (to) him a Airr galih eeni ine Beech [book, nal)m if)m ein 55ucb, he took (from) him a [book, the ibnt, the dative case, expresses both te him and frem him, according to the sense. As in English, the s is the characteristic letter of the possessive case — “ the captain’s sword” being nothing more than a shortening of “ the captain his sword,” so in German the s or cs has the same meaning, — |)auptmann’^^ 0cbihcrbt, Dess Hon'pt' -mann' s Shvairt. A wide field of research. Introduction. In introducing the subject of Chemistry there can be no necessity, in the present day, for insisting on the importance of a science asso- ciated with almost every branch of industry and manufacture. Each fresh discovery in chemistry, independ- i™Port^ce of ently of its intrinsic value as an ® emistry. addition to our store of knowledge to be gar- nered for the benefit of future generations, may prove of immediate practical utility. Looked at, however, apart from its utilitarian aspect, it may safely be asserted that no science opens a wider or more deeply interesting field of research, treating as it does of the infinite combinations of matter in the physical universe. It tells us how, out of a few materials, are built up all the varied structures of the organic and inorganic worlds. Chemistry re- veals to us the fact that we live in the midst of a vast laboratory, in which changes are per- petually in progress — in which , compounds are continually resolved into their constituent elements, which in their turn are destined to unite with other bodies to form fresh combina- tions; nor are these changes confined to the so-called organic world. It is not under the influence of vital energy alone that the material elements are compelled to combine, in order that they may be assimilated by and incorpo- rated.wuth the living tissue of the animal or the plant, but we find Chang^law that constant chemical action is, ® in like manner, going on in the air we breathe and in the earth we tread on. It would be vain to attempt to enumerate the various branches of industiy with which chemistry is at the present time more or less intimately associated. Of its connection with the healing art we need not speak; this has been recognized from Chemist^ and the earliest times ; but the agri- culturist, the wine-grower, and the brewer, not less than those engaged in the various indus- tries of dyeing, paper-making, glass-blowing and staining, in- industrial eluding even the painter and the architect, are under many and deep obligations to the chemist ; while metallurgy and mine- ralogy may obviously be regarded as branches of chemistry. Independently of the inwai-d satisfaction ever to be derived from an ex- tended knowledge of Nature’s ways and means of accomplishing her ends in that universe, in which we all live and move, and of which we are a portion, it is scarcely possible, in the present day, for a young man to pursue a course of chemical study and research without CHEMISTRY. 41 the prospect of deriving some practical benefit from it. Whatever his career in Practical knowledge thus gained benefits. eannot fail to prove a most valu- able acquisition ; while now, more than at any former period, numerous and lucrative appoint- ments lie open to the practical chemist. One of the fundamental prin- Matter ciples revealed by chemistry is mdestructi e. indestructibility of matter. Change, continual change, is shown to be the law of the universe ; destruction, in the sense of annihilation, is impossible. The coal we throw on the fire, the oil we consume in the lamp, or the food assimilated in maintaining the processes of vitality, are but so many ex- amples of chemical action. The coal, the oil, the food disap- pear indeed as such, but only, in obedience to the laws of che- mical action, to be again mani- fested in a dif- ferent form, and exhibiting at- tributes utterly dissimilar to those they ori- ginally possess- ed. These sub- stances are broken up into their constitu- ent elements, which in their turn are recom- bined with others to form a series of new compounds. Another truth which confronts us on the very threshold of chemistry is the fact already hinted at, that the infinite variety of sub- stances constituting the world ot matter are built up out of a comparatively speaking small number of materials. It is true the number of the so-called elements which have been discovered up to the present time amounts to between sixty and seventy; and fresh research will doubtless add to this series ; but many of these are of such rare occurrence, and exist in such minute quan- tities, that we are justified in asserting that „ , matter, in the great majority of Compwatoely ^ lew elements. . sents itself to our senses, consists of but few elements. The term “element” is applied to those bodies which have hitherto resisted eveiy attempt to resolve el^ent^ them into anything simpler — • ■ which cannot, like those sub- stances we term compound, be broken up into gXOW CRYSTALS. Elements few in number. their constituents, and which are therefore regarded as finite or ultimate forms of matter. Whether we are in truth justified in regarding the whole of the elementary bodies as being of this character may indeed be doubted. The increased power of analysis which the disco- very of current or voltaic electricity many years ago placed at our disposal, revealed the fact that some substances which had hitherto been regarded as ele- expecta- ments were in reality compounds, tions office and fresh research may add to ^®search. their number. All we can say is, that up to the present time the whole of the metals, the gases known as hydrogen and oxygen, the substances called sulphur, carbon and iodine, and many others, have resisted all our efforts to resolve them into anything simpler, and are therefore looked upon as ele- ments. The tendency which one ele- ment has to unite with an- other is termed affinity ; of the laws which govern afiinity we are, how- ever, still pro- foundly igno- rant. We know, indeed, that some one par- ticular element has a strong tendency to unite with some other element, and that is all we can say. Of its cause, like that of many of Nature’s operations, we shall possibly for ever remain ignorant. The compounds resulting from such combinations not only differ en- affiSty. tirely in their characteristics from those of the elements before they entered into combination; but two bodies may contain ab- solutely the same elements, and yet exhibit essentially different attributes. Take the ex- ample of three of the elements, one of which enters more or less chemical largely into every article we use combination, as food, the other being one of the constituents of water forms a portion of all our drinks; while the third is free in the atmosphere — is, indeed, the life-giving portion of the air we breathe. When combined, how- ever, in certain definite proportions, these three elements constitute one of the deadliest poisons known. Or, to take another illustra- tion, let us select the elementary gas we have 42 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. just spoken of — oxygen, the most universal of all the elements. This gas forms, with another gas called nitrogen, the air we breathe — not, indeed, in a state of chemical combination, but merely mechanical mixture. The latter gas is, in a chemical an com me . singularly inert and want- ing in character. It is, as far as we can judge, utterly without taste or smell, and serves to dilute the vital oxygen, which, if breathed unmixed, would be far too stimulating and exciting; while every spark that fell for a mo- ment on an inflammable substance would kindle a conflagration in an atmosphere of pure oxy- gen. These two gases, which we breathe con- stantly, and by which we are always surrounded, form, when in a state of chemical combination, a series of powerful acids, one of which is the well-known aqna-fortis of the jeweller. We have already pointed out that the ele- ments exhibit dif- ferent degi'ees of afiinity for one another. This may be veiy strong, compara- tively weak, or altogether want- ing. One method of etiecting analy- sis is to bring a compound into contact with some element for which it is known that one of its con- stituents has a stronger affinity than it has for the one willi which it is bound up. Even then, however, the chemist has gene- rally to summon to his aid some form of natural force or energy. With a single stroke of a | this result of chemical action, match upon a piece of sand-paper we are able to summon to our aid a genius THE GENERATION OF OXYGEN. time been regarded as simple or elementary. By means of the galvanic battery we can sj^lit up water into its two constituent gases — oxy- gen and hydrogen ; and it can be made to perform the opposite or synthetical process of determining the recombination or these elements to form water. In vain do we bring these two gases into contact with one another, even in the exact proportion in which we know they unite to form this liquid ; they refuse to unite ; but the appli- cation of a light to a mixture of the gases, or the passage through them of an electric spark, at once etfects their transformation into water. The influence of diffused daylight, without the aid of either combus-®^®““®®^^‘'^®^* tion or electricity, is, in other cases, sufficient to effect chemical union ; while some elements possess so strong an affinity for one another, that they need but to be brought into contact for them to com- bine instantane- ously and with apparent eager- ness. We may here take the opportunity of 1‘emarking that even if no heat be applied from an extraneous source, chemical union never takes place without the development of; heat, which is ] roportionate to the rapidity or energy with which one ele- ment unites with another. The well known ex- ample of water and quicklime may be instanced in illustration of liiiiiuHiiii'ilil Iffeans of decom- posing bodies. more potent than any that obeyed the lamp or ring in Eastern fable. Heat, which we can thus evoke in a moment at will, is, in truth, a most powerful magician. Matter, at its Protean touch, can be made to assume the infinite variety of form and condi- tion under which it presents itself. Heat has TT fx. Justly been termed the “great uses of heat. ,^oj.ker of the universe.” To the chemist its aid is invaluable — indeed, Ave may say that his art would be impossible without it ; and from time immemorial the labour of the chemist has been associated with the lamp, the crucible, and the furnace. Another powerful . agent in promoting chemical ac- action electricity ; and the dis- covery of current electricity forms an era in the history of chemistry. By its aid Sir H. Davy was able to demonstrate the dual nature of the alkaline bodies that had up to his The elements all combine more or less readily with oxygen, AAnth the single exception of fluorine, of which no known compound with this gas exists. It is possible, however, that one may yet be dis- covered. The various degrees of affinity ex- isting among the ele- ments is well illustra- ted in the case of the metals and oxygen. ; Some of these bodies unite energetically wdth this gas when- ever they have an opportunity of doing so. Metals of this class are never met with in nature, pure or native. Others exhibit but a feeble degree of affinity for oxygen, and can only be made to unite with it by indirect means. ^ SIR HUMPHREY DAVEY. ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 43 Intkoductiok — continued. § 5, Organs of speech : diversities of language. § 6. Living and dead language. § 7. Definition of grammar. § 8. “ Universal ” and “ particular!” grammar. § 9. Grammar an ancient and a wide science. ( § 10. “ Descriptive ” and “ historical ” grammar. i § 5 . Speech grew up out of the necessity for ! communicating our thoughts. We are provided 1 with most wonderful and delicate bodily organs j for this purpose ; they give us variety of sound and voice, not only in each individual, but in ; the members of the family, of the nation, of ! the race. The language of every race has grown up conformably to the physical struc- ture of its organs of speech ; and the infinite variety of the development of these organs in mankind, bounded in each race by certain physiological laws, has given rise to the diver- sities of language. For example, men in different countries have experienced the same wants and the same relationships of life, and have given utterance to them in words ; on the comparison of kindred languages, it is found that a given class of sounds in one would be expressed by the same class of sounds in another, but altered in degree ; this occurs so regularly and so often between some tongues as to show that a common original impulse gave birth to the one class of sound, but that there are peculiar differences (pro- bably in the organs of speech) which have caused each tongue t(x adopt a different degree of that sound. Thus, d, t, and th are all dental letters — i.c. letters for sounds formed against the teeth; but the German says “ ^ochter ” for the English “ rZaughter,” “ Z'ag ” for “ r^ay,” “ ^s' cntr'ac carder, s' entr'' accuser, s' entr' aider, s' entr' aimer , .s'entr'- avertir, s'entr'egorger ; in the reflective verb s' entr' ouvrir , and the noun entr'acte. (6) The adjective grande in some feminine compound nouns : an, grand' mere, grandmother, grand' messe,\i\g\\ mass ; g rand' peur, fright, etc, 68 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Remnrh III . — The a is elided nowhere but in the article or pronoun la when the next word begins with a vowel or silent Ji. In the old forms vi'amoiir, niy love, and iiHamie, my dear, a was likewise elided ; in modern French the hiatus is avoided by replacing ma by moii, and thus saying m4)n amflV)’, vion amie. The i is only elided in the conjunction si before U or Us — nowhere else : qu\ therefore, stands for qve, a relative pronoun in the objective case, or qiie, a conjunction, and never for qni, a relative pronoun in the nomi- native. The diphthong the tenor and cut of your letters, I suppose you were never in it at all. By the length of this «crawl, you will think I have a design upon your optics; but I have writ as large as I could, out of respect for them, — too large, indeed, for beauty. Mine is a sort of deputy- •Orecian’s hand ; a little better, and more of a worldly hand, than a Grecian’s, but still remote from the mercantile.” We will now proceed to the practical part of »our duty ; our first step will be to ground the pupil in those elementary forms whose frequent ^practice is indispensable to the attainment of freedom of hand. Thendh we shall proceed to analyses of text, half -text, etc., etc. Official styles, with special reference to Civil Service requirements, will follow in due course, to be in turn succeeded by mercantile and ladies’ hands ; -and a careful elucidation of the more useful -ornamental characters — as 'Old English, E ngrossing, ■etc., etc. — will conclude our series. The position of the writer at the desk or table is a matter of con- siderable im- . . ^ ■,portance, and /w especially so to persons who have to pass many hours of •each day there. ' Those who do so should not be satisfied with any desk or stool, but endeavour to so arrange them that the appliances suit the penman’s height and quality of vision. Short-sighted people, it is almost needless to remark, should have a desk higher and rather more on the slant than that suited desks, etc. those whose eyes are of normal ■character. The proper height of the desk is also indispensable for the preservation of the writer’s health. Yet this matter is ibut too often much neglected by the precep- tors of youth, who often permit their pupils to stoop awkwardly over the paper, with their eyes close down to their knuckles. It must cnot be supposed that attention to these minutiae is a pedantic whim. On the contrary, if much ■time is spent in a stooping and unnatural posi- tion over the desk in youth, round shoulders, •contracted chests, and the germs of pulmonary diseases, are the probable sequels ; while the ■clerk wh» adheres to such an absurd attitude will be certain to find himself eventually the victim of dyspepsia and other distressing dis- orders. The penman should sit right in front of his HO'W TO HOLD THE PEH. desk, and at such a distance that the edge should be an inch or two from the bend of the elbow when the arm is drawn Position of the against the side. The body should be kept nearly upright, resting very lightly upon the left arm, which steadies the frame, and the fingers of which also secure the paper or book which is being written upon. The seat must be placed in such proximity to the desk as to enable this position to be easily main- tained and to obviate the writer’s leaning forward. The feet must not be drawn up under the seat, but placed in advance of the body, and it is well if the toes are supported at a slight elevation above the heel by the aid of an inclined foot-rest. The right arm must be quite free and rest lightly on the desk near the elbow, which should be kept _ . . at a distance of about four inches from the side, or even closer if the lines of writing have to cover a very broad sheet. It must be understood that the fr-eedom of the right hand is of the greatest importance to the acquirement of a good cur- sive hand. No part of the weight of the body must be thrown on the right hand or arm, which must be sup- ported by the third and fourth fingers mainly, while the m o V e- rnents of the pen are prin- cipally made by the action of the thumb and first and second fin- gers, the hand, thus balanced, gliding meanwhile gently and equably along the paper. III. The Aeticles. The article is called in German fiJOtt i^Geshleclits' •wort),^he, gender- word ; it is also called bet Slrtifel {Arr-tee"’ke1). There are two articles in German — The definite, bet, bie, ba^, the, dare, dee, dass (like pahss, with the h very slightly accented), and the indefinite ein, eine, ein, a. like ine iti'-e, like miner ine in pine, without the m and r {miner). GiJIlMAN, 61 . It will be seen that the definite article, called feet beflimmte (he-stimf -te) %xixM, like the French le and la^ shows the gender of the word : — Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. bet 2lpfe(, bie Sf^abef, ba^ Saffer, dare App'fel dee Nah'-del, dass Vas'-ser the apple the needle the water Kemember that the a must not be pro- nounced as in hand, but as in father, part, card; when followed by two consonants, as in apfef, it is short ; when followed by one, as in nabel, it is long. In German words of two syllables, the accent is nearly always on the first syllable, except where that syllable is merely a prefix, thus: 3tp'=fcl, 9la'*bet, Safsfer; but in words deriyed from the French, like ba^ latent {tah- lent), the accent is on the second syllable. The indefinite article does not indicate the gender of the word to which it is prefixed, for it has ein both for the masculine and the neni-ev. Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. cin |)ut eine S3tume ein f)upn ine Hoot ein'-e Bloo'-me ine Hoon I a hat a fiower a fowl i (cine to be pronounced like the letters ine in i the word diviner ; 55Iunte like the word hloomer | without sounding the r). j The definite article is declined in the follow- • ing manner : — SINGULAR NUMBER. Cases. Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. Nominative ber bie ba^/ the dare dee dass (a short) Genitive be^ bet be^. of the . dess dare dess Dative bent ber bent. to the dame dare dame Accusative ben bie ba^. the dane dee dass PLURAL NUMBER. Nominative bie, the > dee Genitive ber, of the Dative dare ben. to the ^of all genders. dane Accusative bie. the dee j In the plural there is no distinction between the masculine, feminine, and neuter, so far as the article is concerned ; the same is used for all. Thus bie iJiite bie Stumen bie ^ii^ner dee Hiih'-te dee hloo'-men dee hiih'-nerr would be the hats, the flowers, the fowls, though |)Ut is masculine, S5iume feminine, and neuter. Certain pronouns are declined like the definite article : — biefet biefe biefe^, this dee'-zerr dce'-zc dee'-zess jenet jene that yai'-ner yai'-ne yai -ness einiger einige eintge^, some cye'-ni-yerr eye'-ni-ge eye'-ni-gess manc^er manege mand^e^, many man'-cherr man'-che man' -chess j[eber j[ebe jtebe^, each, every yai!-dei'r yai'-de yai'-dess afiet aUe all al'-ler al'-le al'-less The je in jener, etc., like yai, or “ yea ” mean- ing “ yes,” — the final e like the final syllable in. vain-er with the r omitted ; in allet the a is short before the double consonant. The indefinite article {a or an), called bet unbeflimmte 5(rtifet {oon-he-stim' -te Ardee'M),- is declined in the following manner : — SINGULAR NUMBER (it has no plural). Cases. Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. Nominative ein eine ein, a ine * i'-ne ine Genitive eine^ einer eine^, of a i'-ness i'-nerr i'-ness Dative einem einer einem, to j i'-nem i'-ner i'-nem Accusative e ien eine ein, a i' -nen i'-ne ine The possessive pronouns meitt, my, beiit, thy,. mine dine fein, his, its, her, unfer, our, euer, zine, eerr, oi'-err your, {’^r, her, and certain other words, are de- eerr, dined like the indefinite article. Study for Heading 'And Pronunciation^ This little poem should first be studied with regard to the pronunciation ; then the words should be separately committed to memory; and then short sentences should be formed by the learner from the lines : such as, A little boy' fell in the brook— gin .^nabtein ftef in ben S3acb ; His brother hastened home — ©ein S5ruber eitte nacb etc., etc. Roger Ascham, the old schoolmaster, rightly asserted that languages were learned by imita- tion ; and therefore we cannot too frequently impress upon our readers the necessity of imi- tating the sentences they find in the reading lessons, and forming short sentences for them- selves by using the words they meet with, in various combinations. S)ie ©ruber. dee Briih'-derr* * THE BROTHERS. fiet ein ^nabiein' in ben S5acb/ ess feel ine hnnyh'-line %n dane hach, It l.-fpll q littl6-Loy the broolc There ^ (boyling) orooK, Seii unter ibm bie S3rucfe brac^.’ vile un'-terr^ eem dee hriich-e 1) ahch Because under him the bridge broke, ©ein att'fier ©ruber rief^ unb feprie,^ zine eltf-sterr hroo-derr reefund'^ shree. His eldest brother cried and screamed,. Unb** fan! bor ©ebretfen ciuf bie ^nie/ nnt zanTcfore shrek'hen in dee knee And sank for terror (in) (^Jfe) * Pronounced as in fine. f • THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Dex elite fort natl> dare tsvy'-te ile' -te fort nahch honne The second turned away (to) home, llnb tief ben 5Satet fc^nett I)erau^, unt reef done fah-terr shnell her-ous'^ And called the father quickly out. !Det iungfte fprang^ bem Stubet* nacb, dare yueng-ste spraiig dame hroo'-der nach * The youngest sprang the Brother after. Unb jog il)n muting au^ bem 'unt tsoch een moof -ich ouss dame haeh And drew him boldly out of the brook. Unb troftete ben flelnen 2Bl^t: unt trees' -te-te dane My'-nen vichU And comforted the little wight : ^,0ei Itlll, ba^ SBaffer belft' bleb nlcbt."® zy stilld' dass was'-eer biJist dich niclit Be still, the water bites thee not. EEMAEKS OK THE P ROKUKCI.VTIOK. “ Note that the ii is to be pronounced like the French a in the word vertic. ^ In the words nnter and umi the u must be pro- nounced as in the En /2^AAA ^'aAAA'^-^^^^ a/aaaaa c^^AAAAAA^AAA AAA'AA^ Der jungste sprang dem Bruder nach. AAAAAii^A^ At>AACA Ai^AAAA- Und zog ihn muthig aus dem B ach. ^AA^/^A^AA AAAAAA fAAAAAAAA M//.- Und trostete den kkincn Wicht : Sei still, das Wasser beiszt dich nicht/’ Exercise on the Foregoing Study. The student should now try to write the following exercise in German, without, in the first instance, looking at the German version, but leaving blanks where he is at a loss for words. Then, when as much as possible has been done, the exercise may be corrected, and missing words (if any) added from the German version subjoined. Write down, in German — A little boy fell into a brook. The bridge broke under him. His eldest brother screamed, and sank on his knees for fright. The second hurried and called quickly the father. The third sprang and drew the brother courageously out of the brook, and comforted him. Be still, the water bites thee not. German Version. (Sin ^ndbleitt fief in einen S5acb. ©ie Inc hnayh' -line feel in i'-nen hack. Dee Srurfe bracb unter ibm. ®ein dttefler briicU-e brach un'-terr eem. Zine eV -tester 55ruber fcbrie unb fan! in bic ^nice bor brod -der shree unt zanlt in dee lined -c fore fcbrecfen. T)er jnjeite eilte unb rief slirek -hen. Dare tsvi'-te ild-te lint reef fcbnell ben 35ater. ®er britte fpranq sehncll dane fah'-terr. Dare dritf-te sjjrang unb jog ben ©ruber ntutbig au^ bent nnt tsoch dane broo'-der moot-ich onss dame ©a(b ; unb troflete ibn. ©ei flill, ba^ lack; unt troes-te-te een. Zey still dass 3}?afTer bei^t bicb nicbt. ivad-scr bilist dich nicht. II. Grammatical Teems : the Kinship op English to other Languages. § II. Definition of terms necessary. § 12. Divisions of grammar. § 13. Orthography. § 14. Syntax. § 15. Etymology. § 16. Accidence. § 17. Beginning of English. § 18. Teachings of comparative grammar. § 11. In dealing with grammar it is neces- saiy, above all things, that we should come to a clear understanding of terms, that we should endeavour to know what we are talking about, what we mean by the descriptive words and general names, which without some effort are apt to leave vague clouds in the mind. Several technical words of tliis kind have already been employed ; and as it will be impossible, indeed undesirable, to dispense with all scientific nomenclature, a little time may be usefully bestowed upon some of them at the outset. Owing to the circumstance that the science of grammar came to us from the classic nations, and that it was taught chiefly by the books of the Latin grammarians and through the means of the Latin language, the greater part of the terms employed about our words are Latin. The Romans brought grammar from the Greeks — Alexandria was its home — so that we still get a few terms from the Greek. Donatus, who taught grammar at Rome in A.D. 386, wrote a grammar whieh was so much in use in the 64 THE UXIVEIISAL IXSTRECTOE. eccl&siasticcal schools that his name became identihed with his work, and a donet became the name for a grammar through the middle ages ; in a Household Book of 1466, we find a payment “ for a donet for master Gorge, 1 2d.,” and Caxton mentions donettis ” as books in great demand from “ George the booke- sellar.” § 12. Grammar consists of three divisions — 1. Orthography. 2. Etiimologii. 3. Syntax. To these some add, as we have seen, 4. Prosody. Analysis of sentences, and Parsing of n'ords, are but methods (though most valuable) of teaching grammar. § 13. Orthography (from the Greek words orthos, correct, grapho, I write) means the cor- rect writing of words — i.e. correct spelling. This is the usual sense of the word in common parlance ; a man who likes using fine language will say of his friend that his orthography is not quite correct,” meaning that he has made a mistake in spelling. Grammarians stretch the term further, and make it cover much in- formation on the alphabet, the properties and the sounds of letters. But, rightly, the last of these belong to gihonology or phonetics, the science of sounds of the human voice. § 14. Syntax (Gr. syn, together, taxis, ar- ranging), meaning the correct arrangement of words in sentences, and Prosody (far.prosodia, a song), or the treatment of verse and versifica- tion, are terms that have not crept into com- mon use, probably because their subjects are not very commonly known and are not matter (jf eveiy-day handling ; they are therefore less liable to a double or mistaken meaning. § 16. Etymology (Gr. etymos, true, logos, discourse, science) is the part of gramtaar that is most important, for it belongs to universal grammar; it is the paid upon which the beginner spends most time, for without a true under- standing of the classification of words, how- ever elementary, he cannot advance a step further. The term, as used by grammarians, in- cludes tlrree branches : (a) Classification, which tells us which are nouns, pronouns, verbs, etc. ; (J) Inflexion, which tells us of the turnings or bendings of a word to adapt itself to various use, as love, lovee, \oyed, loying, all different ' forms of one verb (see § 36) ; (e) Derivation, which teaches us how to trace back the history of a word, to find its original root and from what source we have drawn it and its parts, — in short, it tells of the formation of words. Now, it is quite evident that all these three branches are equally important, and necessary to the “true science” of words: Yet the word “etymology,” by a process of natural selection, perhaps, has come to be restricted in ordinary parlance to the third of these inquiries ; it is upon the tip of many a man’s longue to ask about some word that has caught his attention, “ What is the etymology of that word ? ” he desiring to get in reply some information as to the language it came from into English, and its original meaning. We have books which treat of this .side of the subject alone — Dictionaries of English Etxjmology attesting to the popular if not scholarly use of the word in this sense ; and it must be said that it is hardly fair in modern grammarians, whose object is, if anything, to give us definite notions, and to take account of living speech, to talk about etymology and its various parts vfithout in the least seeming to be aware of the restricted sense which the word bears in general use.. Mr. Marsh, in his Lectures on Language, felt the difficulty, and rightly thought it necessary to point out his selection. “ The word,” says he, “ is used in two senses, or rather, the science of etymology has two offices. The one concerns itself with the primitive and derivative forms and significations of words, the other with their grammatical inflexions and modifi- cations ; the one considers words independently and absolutely, the other in their syntactical relations. In discussing the uses of etymology I shall confine myself to the first of these offices, or that which consists in investigating tlio earliest recognizable shape and meaning of words, and tracing the history of their subse- quent changes in form and signification.”' (Lecture III.) § 16. Accidence (Lat, accidens, befalling) is a word that has been more familiar in Latin grammars than in English, in which, however, it is sometimes found. It is that part of grammar which treats of all the changes that can befall a word, by Spelling, by Inflexion (for example, rwn, ran ; tall, taller, tall:ology and Comparative Philology — the science of the physical characteristics of the races of men, and of the comparative Evidence of relations of the languages of the Phnol7 world— have assumed definite form ° and arrived at their conclusions only in modern times. We briefly indicate the moi'e imijortant results which have been arrived at, and which are generally accepted‘by physiolo- gists and scholars. The Asiatic, European, and No]-thern African races — ^beyond which for our present purpose (an inquiry into the early his- tory of the great nations of antiquity) it is not necessar}" to go — are grouped into the A'ryan (or Indo-Germanic), Tura'nian (or Mongolian), and Shemi'tic races. The first traces of the Aeyan race arc found in Central Asia, eastward of the Caspian Sea, and north of the Hindoo Koosh Moun- The Aryan From this centre migrations took place, probably impelled by the necessity arising from increased numbers, — ■ the movement beginning about 2,000 years be- fore the Christian era. Large numbers moved to- wards the north- w'est, probably reaching Europe; others crossed the Indus, and penetrated into the great peninsula of Southern Asia; and the three higher castes of India still claim to be Aryan, as superior to the low'er or subjugated castes, the Sudras. From India the Aryans reached Persia, and others settled in Asia Minor, from which a further migration took i place to South and Central Europe. The oldest existing records in a language derived from an Aryan stock arc the sacred books of the Hindoos, the Veds, and the Laws of Manu, written in Sanskrit. The word Aryan is taken from the Sanskrit ar^a, “ honourable,” “ of good repute.” In the Veds, A7ya 'is the name by which the believers in the gods are distinguished, in op- position to their enemies, who are called Ddsas. Iran, the old name assumed by the dominant races of Persia, is supposed to be derived from the same root. Scientific philologists are agreed that seven recognized groups of lan- guages, with their dialects, are clearly branches of the old Aryan stock, many of the w'ords being identical or very nearly so, and the general grammatical peculiarities having great affinity. These groups of languages are the Sanskrit, the Teutonic, the Slavo-Lithuanic, the Celtic, the Italic (including Latin), the Greek, and the Iranian or Persian. Another well-defined race, with language ex- hibiting marked peculiarities, is the Turanian, or, as named by some ethnolo- gists, Scythian, Mongolian, and TheTuranian Ural-Altaic. The term Turanian ^ace. is derived from the Persian Turan, or land of the northern wandering tribes, in contra- distinction to Iran, wdiich, as we have seen, wms applied to the Aryan people. The Turanian is also known as the Accadian race, and is divided by ethnologists into five principal groups, now located in different parts of Europe and Asia. 1. The Finno-Hungarian, or Ugrian branch, the most western and liighly cultured members of the family, including the Hungarians, or Magyars ; the Bulgarians, the people of Eastern Kussia, and the Finns and Laps. 2. The Samoyedic branch, of Northern Asia, of low development. 3. The Turks, or Tartars, a well-known and energetic people of Asia and south-eastern Europe. 4. The Mon- gols, inhabitants of the present territory of Mongolia, the slopes of the Altaic Mountains, and, in groups, the lands bordering on Persia, India, and China. 5. The Tungusian, or Mant- choo branch, including the present dominant face of China. The languages of all the various peoples, and the innumerable dialects, have a clear affinity wnth, and are consequently derived from, the Accadian language, found on the most ancient inscriptions yet discovered on the site of the oldest empires known to history, and the lands watered by the Tigris and Eu- phrates A third great race, the Shemitic, or Semitic, including the Hebrews, Phoenicians, Syrians, and Arabs, undoubtedly, on the testimony of all acknowledged The Shemitic records, had its early home in the ^ace. same (part of Asia, and there, by the aid ’ of philological science, which traces back lan- guages step by step to original stocks, and of ethnic science, which similarly traces physical peculiarities, w’e are justified in placing the birth-place of nations. A most important addition to accurate know- ledge of ancient history has been afforded by the study of the remaining monu- ments of Egypt and Assyria, and Ancient the discovery of the mode of ^®“^s and deciphering the hieroglyphical and Ascriptions, cuneiform inscriptions, which have been found to contain records of the greatest historic value. For many centuries Egyptian inscriptions had been known to Europeans, but their meaning wvas a mystery. No clue could be obtained by which the symbols could be translated into any know-m speech. In 1799, the French discovered near Eosetta, in Egypt, at one of the mouths of the Nile, a mass of black basalt (now- in the British Museum), on wdiich was The Rosetta an inscription in three languages Stone. — liieroglyphic (that singular compound of ANCIENT HISTORY. 67 figures of animals, unintelligible signs ard groups in oval surroundings), the enchorial, or written language of the old Egyptians, and Greek, The last was intelligible enough to •scholars, and it was fairly supposed that the others were only versions of the same inscrip- tion. The clue thus afforded was eagerly fol- lowed up by the French savant, M. Champollion, and the English Dr. T. Young, who succeeded, after laborious examination, in obtaining the key to the hitherto hidden hieroglyphics. The study was taken up with avidity by French, German, and English scholars, and now the obelisks and temples, the pyramids and sarco- phagi of old Egypt no longer conceal the historic records of the great kingdom of the Nile land. Even more remarkable, perhaps, have been the discoveries made by M. Botta, Mr. Layard, and Mr. George Smith, in the Assyrian huge mounds of the Tigris valley, iqm es. have literally unearthed the buried Nineveh, and other cities of the past ; discovered palaces and sculptures, bricks of burnt clay, covered with inscriptions, histori- Ai^ loped in the air. Taking a vertical section of the growing Onion or Hyacinth Bulb (figs. 11, 15), the main or substantial portion of it is found to consist of the bases of leaves, the outermost reduced to the condition of membranous and almost translucent scales, while the innermost are either already elon- gated, or are getting ready to elongate, into the long green blades which rise from the centre, and surround the flower-stalk. The spongy plate— sometimes convex, some- times approaching the conical, upon winch I these leaf-bases rest — is all that the plant I possesses of the nature of stem ; the real roots I are the fibres which descend from its under- * surface. The nature of a bulb is made very plain by comparing it -ufith the rosette of leaves which constitutes an individual plant of House- leek or of Echeveria. The curious Sempervivum tahiblceforme is a bulb as it were reversed. Other examples of plants, apparently stemless, are found in the primrose (fig. 16), the dandelion, the common plantains of the wayside and the meadow; in almost all, in a word, of the plants which are said to possess only “radical” or root-leaves. Boots, properly so called, never produce leaves. Some may say. Is it not a stem which sustains the flowers of the hyacinth ? No. This is only a flower-stalk, a temporary j output from the stem, which dies when its j purpose has been accomplished. The non-development of leaves is again a common phenomenon. In the wdiole of the great tribe of plants to which the Xeafless plants. belongs, the genus Pere- skia alone excepted, leaves properly so called are entirely wanting. There are other large families in which the plant consists purely of green and succulent stem ; it is not unusual, indeed, to find in families which ordinarily abound in leaf certain wayward and perverse species so reticent of genuine foliage that they appear to be quite without. Take for instance the odd Coccoloha platyclados, which seems composed of ribbons, articulated at short intervals, the little triangular leaves coming out when they list, now and then, near the joints. Leafless plants must not be confounded udth those which are destitute of foliage Avhile in bloom. Many bulbous plants throw up their flower-stem at one season and their leaves at another. A familiar instance occurs in the Colchicum ; the crocus-like flowers impurple the meadows about Michaelmas, the leaves do not make their appearance till the spring. Th.e same is the case with the Guernseys Lily and other amaryllids grown in conservatories ; also with various orchids — many dendrobes for ex- ample, which on this account, when in bloom. though so lovely, look bare and unflnished. Parasitic plants are often devoid of leaves, or if present, they are developed merely as scales. This condition is well exemplified in the genus Orobanche, several species of which belong to the British flora. It is possible for a flowering plant to be devoid of both stem and leaf. Tins occurs in the floating Lemnas-vOf the stand- ing pool, above alluded to, which lemnas. consist only of plates of cellular tissue, roots descending from the under-surface, and the minute flowers coming out at the edges. The Lemnas are the very simplest of flowering plants. Flowers, in the Phrenogamia, as the appella- tion distinctly implies, are never absent. In other words, every species of this great division of the vegetable powers and kingdom is capable of producing flowers. A seed-pod or fruit is also potentially characteristic of the whole. PEESEYEEANCE. BY ROBERT SOMERS.' If “action,” as we have high sanction for be- lieving, be the crowning quality of oratory, “ perseverance ” is the primal force of nearly all excellence. We hear of born-orators, born-poets, and born-statesmen. In moments of enthusiasm they are sometimes called “ heaveri-born.” ' But we suspect that these are for the most part mythical personages, and that real specimens at least are but few in number. Seldom is man or woman born to anything, unless it be to a silver spoon ; and in the histories, biographies, and other records wherein we read of any great success, whether in business, learning, art, science, power of doing or persuading, or in the acquisition simply of choice and varied personal accomplishments, ninety-nine cases out of a hundred will be found to be the same old story of great difficulties to be overcome, and persistent' endeavours to overcome them. There is more equality among mankind in the need of perseverance than is commonly supposed ; for this is an essence of character cunningly adapted to every situation of life, and may be said to be the atmosphere in which all virtues and excellences can alone hope to live. Suppose, for example, one born to gi'eat wealth, even to titles and honours in the State, or certain at least of the social distinction which wealth gives, — it is difficult to conceive a situa- tion where perseverance w’ould appear, at first sight, to be more .entirely a word of no mean- ing. He has only to stand still, and receive and enjoy the satisfaction sure to flow into his breakfast-room every morning, and scarcely to retire from his couch at night. But it is not exactly so in reality. There is a constant call THE FRIENDLY COUNSELLOR. 79 for perseverance in resisting the temptations to evil by which such an estate of life is surrounded. When one’s carriage-horses bolt down a steep descent, it requires as much effort to rern them back as to toil one’s donkey- cart up hill. Again, if our magnate, discon- tent with the mere inheritance of wealth and honour, should nobly seek to achieve gi-eatness in the senate or the field, or in the realms of science ©r literature, the demands on his perseverance will be urgent, since he will naturally not like to be eclipsed by those who have started with much fewer advantages. It was a perception of difficulties of this kind in the path of the wealthy and noble which caused Montaigne to say that he would rather be third in Perigourd than first in Paris. Montaigne himself had no desire to rise above the condition of his birth, and even consoled himself with the reflection that there are some heights from which one can descend without falling down 1 Those who are high placed in society have as much need of perseverance as those who stand on the lower rungs of the ladder ; only, the former are apt to be most generally rewarded by the negative result of not falling, — of not losing relative position ; while the latter are encouraged to persevere by the prospect of rising, and by the greater ■ease with which, the more they persevere, they find themselves advancing. Young men of strong natural faculties as well as good oppor- tunities may form higher aims than could be reasonably proposed by those who are inferiorly endowed and less favourably situated. But great natural talents and good oppor- tunities have a tendency to weaken perseve- Tance in laborious and methodical efforts ; •and in this case, as in others, it is often found that the persistent pace of the tortoise beats in* the end the more fitful leaps of the hare. Perseverance implies tenacity of purpose, patience, energy, fortitude, and other qualities, any of which might be the subject of a little dissertation in itself. But our object in this short paper is to consider perseverance in its common acceptation, and in some of the cir- cumstances in which its value is manifest in a stronger or weaker light; for there is a modulation in perseverance, as in everything else. Not only may there be perseverance in a wrong as well as a right course, and towards a right or wrong object; but even when the object is right, and the course is not wrong, perseverance may sometimes be carri ed to excess. The lesson of perseverance may be said — in all save the continued cultivation of good habits, benevolent feelings, and a devout spirit — to lose some of its force in proportion as we grow older ; for, as life advances, the lerm for acquirements shortens, and a time comes when it is more important to develop and enjoy what we have got, than to attempt new conquests. Nor is it always wise to per- severe in exercising our strongest faculties, wliile allowing weaker faculties to lie dormant, or with scarcely room to grow in ; and this may be true in some circumstances, and not so true in others. It is obvious that perseverance varies in its significance at different periods of life, and in different circumstances, when the objects to which our efforts are directed pass, as it were, under a new valuation. In nothing is the need of perseverance more apparent than in education. “ Persevere, perse- vere, persevere,” are the words to be constantly sounded in the ears of the learner. It is in learning anything we all feel the difficulty of effort, and where our hearts are so apt to be discouraged by the awkwardness of the first steps, and the cold, dry, and barren character of the first results. When a thing is learned, it becomes easy, and perseverance becomes of no account save in using what has been learned towards another end. Few branches of study, moreover, do not require a concentration of our minds to master them. There must be not only perseverance, but a concentrated perseverance. The fewer intromissions of other subjects, the briefer lapses of time between one point of the progress and another, and, in short, the more consecutive the study, the more quickly and fully will the subject be comprehended. It may be doubted whether the crowding of many studies together be a wise economy in education. In schools, where, of course, learning being the sole employment, there is some scope for variety of study, the prevailing error is certainly on the side of excess, and in trying to learn too many branches at one time ; whence arises a want of balance in the perseverance ; for the pupils will almost certainly be found — teachers no less willingly assenting — to perse- vere most in those branches in which their faculties are quickest. This is an evil of two sides and of two consequences. The learner is apt to leave school with tolerable proficiency in only one, two, or three branches, while de- ficient in others, though the latter may be the most important and essential. But, further, as a pupil naturally leans to the branch of study for which he has most aptitude, the result of this partial learning is that the teach- ing power of the school and the whole effect of the pupil’s perseverance will have been ex- pended on his most lively faculties — so lively that they required little teaching, and could almost have taught themselves — while those powers of mind which were most dull, and most needed to be trained and strengthened, will have been in a great measure neglected. As long as the object is a general culture, and not in any respect special or professional, it is the weaker faculties, and not the stronger, to which most exercise should be given. And this is one view in which perseverance in study differs from perseverance in business, since in the choice of a trade or a profession one has certainly to consider what trade or profession one is fittest for, and it would be absurd to say that when a trade, or profession, or any career of life has been entered upon, there should not be a persevering develop- ment and exertion of those faculties and aptitudes on which the rewards of our labour, skill or art, or enterprise depend. To “ ham- mer the nail that drives best” holds true in business, but it does not apply to general mental culture. 80 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. III. The motion of the moon in the heavens is far more easily studied than that of the sun, because, even when the moon is Sidereal and j|.g 'brightest, the more impor- stars can be seen when quite ““ close to it. It was easy, therefore, for the earlier astronomers to find out the path of the moon in the skies. It was soon found that the moon performed its revolution round the earth from west to east in the same direc- tion as the sun, and on an average once in 27 days 7 hours 43 minutes ; for in the course of that time it again returned to the same place amongst the stars. This period is called a mean sidereal month. It takes the moon a longer period to come back to the same posi- tion with regard to the sun, be- cause during these 27^ days the sun has itself moved a considerable dis- tance towards the east, and the moon has to move a corre- spondingly in- creased distance before it over- takes the sun again. It re- quires, in fact, on the average, a period of 29 days 12 hours 44 minutes, and this is called a lunar month or synodical revolution of the moon — it being the interval between two successive new moons. We have seen, however, that the sun does not move always at the same rate ; so that when it is moving fastest, which is in December, the moon will have to move farther to overtake it, and will require a longer period to do so than in June, when the sun is moving slowest. For this reason, during the winter the lunar months are, on the average, eight hours longer than in the summer. At a very early period it was noticed that the moon did not move in the heavens in the same path as the sun ; for it is evident that if it did, when it overtook and passed the sun, as it does at every new moon, it would come between the earth and the sun, — in fact, it would seem to pass in front of the sun, and would hide that luminary from us. This would produce what is called an eclipse of the sun. But astrono- , mers knew that the sun was not Eclipse of eclipsed every month so that it was evident that the moon, when it overtook the sun, must pass either above it or below it, or perhaps both. The path of the sun amongst the stars, or the ecliptic as it is called, being known, by watching the motion of the moon it was soon seen that the moon moved in a path making a small angle with the ecliptic. Hipparchus, a celebrated Grecian astronomer, who lived at Alexandria between B.c. 190 and B.c. 120, very carefully measured this inclina- tion of the path of the moon to the ecliptic, and found it to be equal to 6° 0' — a value very near the truth, which is 5° 8' 40". In Fig. 7 is a plan of the heavens, like Fig. 4 (p. 49), and the path of the moon is represented by ft m A inclined at a small angle to W e E, the path of the sun, or ecliptic. The place n, where the two paths intersect each other, is called the node ; and n is called the descending node when, as in the figure, it is the node where the moon . descends from the half of its path which is above or north of the ecliptic to the half which is south or below the ecliptic. For the same reason, the other node, which is exactly opposite in the other half of the heavens, is called the as- cending node, for it is the place where the moon seems to ascend from the south- ern half of its path into the northern half. The line con- necting these two nodes is called the line of nodes, and half is shown by n o. The position of the moon’s orbit when n is the ascending node is shown by n m'. Observations soon showed that the moon’s path was not invariably fixed, like the path of the sun, but that it seemed 'to move slowly amongst the stars. Suppose we observe the moon cross the ecliptic quite close to the bright star called Regains : about twenty-seven days later we shall again see the moon crossing the ecliptic, but now it will be about a degree and a half, or three times the . apparent diameter of the moon, ^®bonofthe farther west, and on the next occasion it will be the same amount still farther west. The place where the moon crosses the ecliptic moves farther west every lunation, until, in process of time, it moves right round the ecliptic. Hipparchus, who was the first to exactly measure the inclination of the path of the moon, carefully determined the time it took the node to move round the ecliptic, and found that it did so once in 18§ years, which is very nearly correct. The well-known phases of the moon admitted of an easy explanation, as shown by Fig. 8, so that at an early period it was known that they were due to the moon being an opaque body illuminated by the rays of the sun. In the centre of the figure we see the earth half FIG. 7 — A PLAN OP THE HEAVENS. ASTRONOMY. 81 'illuminated by the Sun and half in darkness, and round it we see the figure of the moon at different positions of its revolution around the earth, each with its illuminated and unillumi- aated hemisphere marked out by shading the latter. Between the two is the appearance of the illuminated part of the moon as seen from the earth, and constituting its phases. When the moon is at 1, it is between the sun and earth, and its dark side being turned towards us, it is invisible. It is then said to be New. As it moves in its orbit, more and more of the illu- minated portion of the moon is gradually seen on the earth. When at the position 2, which is some four days after new moon, it appears in t^ western skies as a Phases of the small cresceiu. When at 3, exactly half of the illuminated hemi- sphere, or one quarter of the entire moon, is seen, and it is therefore said to be at its First Quarter. Gradually more and more of the moon is seen, until, on reaching the position 6, the entire illuminated hemisp’here can be seenfrom the earth, and the moon is said to be Full. Now the amount of illu- minated portion which can be seen slowly lessens, until at 7 again exactly half the illuminated hemisphere is visi- ble, and the moon is said to be at its Third or Last Quarter. But now the portion of the hemisphere of the moon which can be seen is exactly the half which could not be seen at first quarter. Lastly, less and less of the bright portion of the moon can be seen, until it finally disappears, and arriving at 1 becomes again new. Suppose the sun appears to be at e on the ecliptic when the moon overtakes it, then, instead of passing in front of the sun and causing an eolipse, the moon will seem to pass below it at m if w be the descending node, or above it at m! if n be the ascending node. But suppose the sun seems to be at n when the moon overtakes it, then the moon will pass in front of the sun whichever node n may be, and an eclipse will happen. Solar eclfises, then, only happen when the moon is new. These solar eclipses were regarded as matters of very great importance in early times, so that when their cause was known, much study was devoted to finding out when they would recur. Solar eclipses may be divided into two classes — namely, total eclipses, when the entire sun is hidden by the moon, and imrtial eclipses, when VOL. I. FIG. 8. — THE PHASES OF THE MOOH. only a portion of the sun is so hidden. The former are much the more important. After a time astro- eclipses, nomers discovered that in a ^“taland little more than eighteen years P““al. the moon, the sun, and the moon’s node all came back to very nearly the same position again, so that the eclipses began to recur in the same order and on the same days as they did before. This period they called a saros., and it enabled them to predict the eclipses of the sun v/ith some success. After some time the ancient astronomers found that the use of this cycle called the saros only enabled them to predict a mere fraction of the eclipses of the sun, and that if they wished to be more successful it was im- perative that they should master the laws governing the motion of the moon in its orbit or path in the heavens. This knowledge of the motion of the moon was only obtained as the fruit of many years’ assiduous study and con- stant observation. At an early period it was found that the moon did not appear always to move with the same velocity in its orbit, but that at times it seemed to move faster than at other times, so that one half of its revolu- tion around the earth was per- formed in a shorter time than the other. This was exactly the same thing they had discovered of the motion of the sun. If, then, a table is formed giving for any time the place of the moon in the heavens, constructed by supposing it to move uniformly round the earth once in 27 days 7 hours 43 minutes 11^ seconds, it vdll be found to be seldom correct, because, as the moon moves faster at some times than at others, the moon will be sometimes in front and at other times behind the place it would have had if it had always moved at the same rate. Hipparchus, the celebrated Grecian astronomer, carefully observed the moon, and ascertained at what times it moved faster and at what times it moved slower. He then showed how the correct place of the moon might be ob- tained by means of a second table which he constructed, and which gave the amount by which it was necessary to correct the place of the moon given by the first table, in order to take into account this unequal rate at which the moon moved in its path in the heavens. He also constructed a similar table to correct the place of the sun, which, as we have seen, 6 82 THE UNIVEBSAL INSTRHCTOB. also moves Avitli unequal velocities. It was soon found, however, that whereas the sun moved fastest always in the same place in the heavens, this was not the case \Nith the moon, but that the place where it seemed Perigee of move fastest, or its perigee, as it •f is called, was slowly advancing in ^ ^ ^ ‘ the heavens ; and Hipparchus as- certained that it advanced from west to east right round the heavens in a period of nearly nine years. This discovery he took into account in forming his second table. II. The whole of the elements, throughout the entire series of the compounds they are sus- ceptible of forming with one another, are found to be subject to an immutable law. They will only combine in certain fixed and definite pro- portions by weight which arc How elements to be constant for each elc- com me. ment, however numerous its com- pounds. Let us assume, for the sake of illus- tration, that an element enters into chemical union with one volume of oxygen. If it form another compound with this gas it will contain exactly twdce the weight of oxygen that the first contained, and so on for all and every pos- sible combination of this gas with any other element. Let us assume the weight of an element capable of uniting with one volume of oxygen to be ], while that of oxygen is 2. Then every successive combination of this element with oxygen, supposing it capable of forming more than one, will be as 1 to 4, 1 to G, 1 to 8, and so on ; no intermediate combinations such as 1 to 1^, 1 to 8, or 1 to 6 arc possible; and this is true of all the compounds of this element with every other element. To what conclusion does this lead us ? Matter not Why, that matter is not divisible infinitely Peyond a certain point — that there are certain finite or ultimate par- ticles termed atoms, and which, as their name signifies, cannot be divided. On this basis is founded the celebrated law of chemical com- binations in multiple proportions ; and as Dalton, the chemist, was the first to enunciate the theory of the ultimate indivisibility of matter, it has received the name of “ Dal- Dalton’s atomic atomic theory.” We are far theory. from saying that this conclusion is to be accepted as final : as our knowledge increases, Dalton’s theory may have to be abandoned ; meanwhile, we must accept it as the only one that will explain the law of che- mical combination in multiple proportions. As the law holds good fof every element, whether it presents itself under ordinaiy conditions in the form of a solid, a liquid, or a gas, it is evident 1 that we must distinguish between atomic and specific weight or gravity. For instance, the ultimate particle or Atomic and. atom of carbon is lighter than that of oxygen, yet the former always presents itself as a solid, while the latter is a gas. Again, the weight of a piece of gold is greater than that of a lump of lead of the same size, yet the atomic weight of lead is somewdiat greater than that of gold. This leads us to a consideration of the various forms or conditions under which matter presents itself to our senses. These are the solid, the ex^ple of liquid, and the gaseous ; and we have good reasons for supposing that every particle of matter of which the universe we j inhabit is composed at one time existed in the form of a liquid or a gas, and wo are justified in assuming that if the temperature of any inorganic solid were raised in a suffi- ciently high degree it would again pass intO' the condition of a liquid and finally into that of a gas. Some bodies do not pass through the intermediate liquid stage before becoming gaseous ; while others, that are susceptible of being liquefied by heat, also pass directly from the condition of a solid to that of a gas. Water, at the temperature which ordinarily prevails in this country, presents itself under the form of a liquid. At the temperature indicated by 0° on the scale of the centigrade thermo- meter, or at 32° on Fahrenheit’s scale, it assumes the condition of Different a solid. If, on the other hand, we raise its temperature to 100° *^®c®8*ary. on the centigrade or to 212° on the Fahrenheit scale, it is, under the normal pressure of the atmosphere, rapidly converted into an invisible gas ; but at any temperature between this and freezing point water is constantly being con- verted into its gas by the process known as. evaporation, and this does not wholly cease even when in the solid form, as a lump of ice exposed to a dry atmosphere slowly diminishes, in bulk and weight. Of course, in either case,, if the air has already taken up as much water gas as it can contain at the existing tempera- ture, or is what is termed saturated, it refuses i 0 take iip any more, and evaporation ceases. If, therefore, we find that solids can be con- verted into the liquid or gaseous state by the application of heat— the degree of heat required to effect this change differs im- mensely for different bodies — the Soli^cation converse must likewise hold good, ® gases, and any gas may be compelled to assume the liquid or the solid state by lowering its tem- perature in a sufficient degree. The elemen- tary gases of oxygen and hydrogen had long resisted all attempts at liquefaction, even at the lowest temperature that could be produced by artificial means and with the assistance of the utmost pressure that could be brought to bear on them. Quite recently, however, the feat has been accomplished, the feasibility of which has never been ® doubted did we but possess the ^ means of effecting it ; and at a very low tem- 1 perature, and under the pressure of several CHEMISTRY. 83 hundred atmospheres, both oxygen and hydro- gen have been liquefied, if not solidified. Of course, on the removal of the pressure, these bodies instantly revert to their original con- dition of a gas. We may here draw attention to the fact that many liquids possess the faculty of forming an A saturated intimate union with solids without meanwhile losing the liquid form. Such compounds are termed solutions. Of all solvents water is the most universal — that is to say, it is capable of holding a larger number of substances in solution than any other fluid ; at the same time, some bodies not soluble in water are so in alcohol, bicarbide of sulphur, and other fluids. Some substances are more readily soluble in cold water than in hot, and mce versa. We all know that both salt and sugar are soluble in water. Many of our readers, if they have never made the experiment, would be surprised to find how many lumps of sugar we may dis- solve in a cup of hot tea without the latter losing its fluidity. The liquid, of course, increases in weight in the exact proportion of that of the solid added to it, and it becomes denser or inspissated. At length a point is reached at which the tea refuses to take up or dissolve any more sugar, and the ° “ saturated.” fiubstSceq point is, however, reached much sooner with many other solids — that is to say, they are less soluble than salt or sugar. Quicklime is soluble, to a certain extent, in water; and the solu- tion, like every true solution, remains per- fectly clear and gives no evidence to the eye of the presence of a solid in the water. If we now take a small tube and, through it, blow into the water, so as to cause our breath to pass through the so- lution, a change takes place, and it becomes cloudy or milky in appearance. "What has taken place ? a chemical combination has been effected, — the carbonic acid gas of the breath has united with the lime, all invisible as it was in the water, and the result has been the formation of carbonate of lime or chalk, a substance only very partially FACETS OF A BEILLIANT FACETS OF A EOSE DIAMOND. soluble in water, much less so than lime ; and we have an example of the difference between the condition of a body that is held in solution and one which is only held in sus- pension. In the latter case there is no such intimate union as in the former, and the liquid is rendered opaque and is coloured by the body held Solution and • • suspension* in suspension, ^ and if the mixture be allowed to stand long enough it will deposit the solid as a sediment at the bottom. This never takes place in a solution. How- ever long it be allowed to stand, the same volume of the liquid, whether taken from the top or the bottom of the vessel containing it, holds the same proportion of the solid in solution, nor can we separate them by any means short of’ evapo- rating or vaporizing the liquid, which in its altered condition of a gas is no longer capable of holding a solid in solution. The sub- stance thus re- covered will, if the opera- tion be con- ducted with sufficient care, revert to its original crys- talline form on becoming solid, if it belong to the class of substances having a tendency to assume that condition. Crystallography, or the theory of crystalliza- tion, has, of late years, concentrated on itself" no small share of scientific thought and in- quiry. Up to the present time, however, we know but little of the laws by which it is governed ; and this deeply interesting, but abstruse branch of physics, opens a wide field of speculation and research. Substances termed crystalline have a tendency to. assume this state, not only when recovered from their solutions, but also when they pass from the liquid or gaseous into the solid form. Each body on entering into this con- dition assumes the spe- cial crystalline struc- ture by which it is distinguished, and this tendency is one we cm in no wuse alter or destroy. We may pound a salt or other crys- tallizable substance in a mortar ; _we may cause it to be dissolved in a liquid, or to pass through any ordeal -w^e please short of altering its chemical structure ; we can never 81 TIIU UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. destroy its ineradicable tendency to revert, under favourable conditions, to the crystalline state, nor can all our art effect the slightest change in the fixed and finite forms which it then assumes, although these may vary with different allotropic states of the De^te forms game substance. They are, in of crystals, jjiany cases, of infinite beauty, and so various that it would be vain to attempt any enumeration of them ; the inspection of any cabinet or collection of crystals will convey a better idea of their configuration than the most lengthy verbal description. The whole subject, although involved in obscurity, is deeply interesting, and the thoughtful stu- dent of nature is fascinated by the sight of lifeless matter growing into shapes of the most exquisite symmetiy and , harmonious propor- tion under his very eyes. Who can -behold without emotion the needles of Symmetiy of j^e shooting across the surface of ciystalline -^ater, or covering our win- orms. dow-panes with an arabesque of wondrous beauty ? Well may Tyndall exclaim, “ Nature lays her beams in music ” ! Many substances require to enter into combination with water in greater or less proportion before they can assume the crystalline state. This water which is thus built up into their struc- ture is termed the water of crystallization, and if driven off by heat the salt or other substance -can no longer retain the crystalline form, and falls into a shapeless powder, which is termed its amorphous state. We see, therefore, that matter, even in the solid state, may present itself under forms so different as to render it impossible of identification by any but the practised eye. This leads us to Allotrojn»m. ^ words on the subject of allotropism, as it is termed. We have already stated that many chemical compounds, al- though constituted of precisely similar ele- ments, shall yet exhibit attributes the most o.pposite and diverse ; but even an elementary substance may j)resent itself under a guise so different to its ordinaiy one that we may utterly fail to recognize it. The ozone of our atmosphere, which certainly affects oui’ senses in a way very unlike ordinaiy oxygen, and whose hygienic properties have been so highly extolled, is held to be an allo- An ahotropic tropic condition of that gas. But modification pg^q^^pg the most startling ex- 0 oxygen, gf allotropism to which the novice in the wonder-world of chemistry can be introduced is that of carbon. If we hold a plate over the flame of a gas-burner or oil lamp, we shall very soon obtain a deposit of Carbon ^his substance in a tolerably pure amorphous, form and amorphous condition, graphitoidal, Charcoal, lampblack, soot, all crystalline, consist chiefly of this substance. Graphite or black-lead, of which 'our drawing- pencils are made, and in which it assumes a pseudo-crystalline form, is another condition under which this body presents itself. And lastly — and this is the crowning marvel of the aUotropic series — the diamond, the hardest and most durable of all substances, the purest of all gems, the one that displays the colours of all other stones while it surpasses them in lustre, is but carbon or charcoal in the ciystalline form ! We fear that this statement is often received with incredulity by those who know little or nothing of the laws of chemistry ; and the objection is raised, “ MTiy then can we not make diamonds ourselves?” The answer to that is very simple. We have already stated that a body ex- Artificial Mbits a tendency to crystallize when it reverts from the liquid or gaseous state to that of a solid. If any of our readers will teU us how to convert a lump of charcoal into either of the above conditions, we shall probably be a step nearer to the means of manufacturing diamonds than we are at pre- sent.* A French chemist has, we believe, under circumstances w'hich it would be useless to attempt to describe at present, succeeded in producing crystals from charcoal hard enough to scratch glass, but unfortunately so small as to be commercially valueless. We have yet to discover nature’s method of manufacturing diamonds on a larger scale. Although we can- not convert charcoal into diamonds, we can perform the opposite experiment of converting the diamond into charcoal, and thus demon- strate its true nature. The experiment is, how- ever, rather too costly for frequent repetition. Newton, with the prescience , . of true genius, may almost be said to have anticipated the discovery of the true nature of the diamond : drawing his infer- ence from certain of its physical attributes, he predicted that it would be found to be con- nected with carbon or its compounds. IV. SUBTEACTION. SuBTEACTiox is the method of finding what number remains w'hen the lesser of two num- bers is taken away from the greater. The number so found is called the remainder or the difference. Thus if W'e take away 3 from 6, the remainder or difference is 2. By carefully and patiently comparing the above processes with the following rule, the latter will be firmly grasped. Buie for subtraction : — Place the lesser number under the greater, so that units stand under units, tens under tens, and so on. Beginning at the units end (i.e. the right hand), subtract, if it is possible, each figure of the lower number from the figure j\ist above it, and write down each difference. But before we give the usual rule for sub- traction, the following reasoning will help us to understand it : — • Since the above was written crystals of carbon have been produced artificially. ARITHMETIC. 85 Suppose we want to take 235 from 740. Now 746 = 6 units -[- 4 tens + ^ kundreds. 235 = 5 units + 3 tens -j- 2 hundreds. /. the difE’ce ) = 1 unit + 1 ten + 5 hundreds, of 235 Sc 746 J = 611 in our notation ; and wo see that this difference was got by writing down the difference of the units, and then the difference of the tens, and then the difference of the hundreds. Now, before we go further we must under- stand the follo\\nng principle, viz., that i/ two numbers be increased by the same quantity^ their difference is not altered. For example, the difference between 9 and 7 is the same as the difference between 9 increased by 10 and 7 increased by 10, for the difference is 2 in each case. Again, the difference between ICO and 150 is the same as between 130 and 180, for it is 60 in both cases. Now let us try another case of subtraction. Suppose we want to take 157 from 342. Now 342 = 2 units + 4 tens + 3 hundreds, and 157 = 7 „ -f- 5 „ + 1 If we now try to subtract, we cannot do as we did in the first case, for we cannot take 7 units from 2 units. But we can get over our difficulty by the aid of the principle explained above. Let us add 10 units to the upper number, and 1 ten to the lower. This will not alter the difference of the two numbers. The numbers then become, 12 units -f 4 tens -j- 3 hundreds and 7 „ + 6 „ 4-1 „ We can now subtract so far as the units are concerned ; for 7 units from 12 leave 6 units. But we meet the same difficulty when we come to the tens, as we cannot take G tens from 4 tens. We must call in the aid of our principle again. This time we shall add 10 tens to the upper and 1 hundred to the lower number, and by so doing we know the differ- ence of the two numbers is not altered. Our numbers are now 12 units -4-14 tens -f 3 hundreds and 7 „ -j- 6 „ -j- 2 „ We can now subtract the tens and the hun- dreds as well as the units, and the result is, 6 units -}- 8 tens -f- 1 hundred ; or 185 in the usual notation. Thus if any figure in the lower number is greater than the figure just above it, we must add 10 to the upper figure, and then subtract the lower figure from the upper thus increased. Write down the difference so found. Carry 1, and add it to the next figure of the lower number, and then subtract the lower figure so increased from the number just above it, adding 10 to the latter if necessary. Proceed in this way with all the figures. The figures so written down will be the required difference. Illustration of the Rule. 1. Take 282 from 325. Arrange thus : — We say 2 from 5 leave 3, Write 326 down 3. 8 from 2 I cannot, but 8 282 from 12 leave!. Write down 4 and carry 1 . 1 added to 2 makes 3. 043 3 from 3 leave 0. the differ- ence required is 43. 2. Subtract 364 from 4621. 4621 We say 4 from 1 I cannot, but 364 4 from 11 leave 7. .-. write down 7 and carry 1. 1 added to 6 4257 makes 7. 7 from 2 I cannot ; but 7 from 12 leave 5. .*. write down 6 and carry 1. 1 added to 3 makes 4. 4 from 6 leave 2. write dowm 2. There is now nothing to carry, and there are no more figures in the lo\ver line, .’. we have nothing to subtract from 4, so we say 0 from 4 leaves 4. .-. write down 4. Thus the required difference between 4621 and 364 is 4267.» The sign — , called minus, when placed be- tween tw'o numbers, means that the second number is to be subtracted from the first. Thus 6 — 3 means that 3 is to be subtracted from 6. .-.5 — 3 = 2. Examples. 1. Find the differences in the following cases : — {a) 18 (b) 1,30 (c) 6761 (rZ) 4302 (c) 751 12 76 2030 1622 236 2. Find the remainders in the following cases : — ■ 651 - 230; 78 - 69; 803 - 11; 1358 - 269 ; 785 - 369 ; 2500 - 97 3. Find the value of {a) 23 + 52 - 17 ; {b) 660 - 25 -f 35 - 16 (c) 370 - 49 - 6 ; {d) 723 - 85 -f 85 - 3 4. (a) Brown had 63 marbles ; Jones 1 7 less than Brown ; Robinson as many as Brown and Jones together, minus 21. How many had they all together ? {b) A basket contains in all 1662 apples, pears and oranges. 721 of them arc apples and pears, and 901 pears and oranges. How- many more apples are there than pears ? (c) What number taken from 650 will leave 200 ? and what number added to 200 will make 650 ? {d) Wliat number taken from 673 will make 3 more than 70 ? (c) In a match of cricket. A, B and C to- gether scored 126, of w^hich A and B together scored 105 ; and of this A alone scored 35. How much did B and C each score ? (/) If I pay £10 for some hay, and £7 for some straw, how much more do I pay for the hay than the straw ? (y) From a bag containing 1760 counters 880 are stolen ; how many are left ? (Ji) A man walked 23 miles one day, and 8 miles another : how many more miles did he walk on the first day than on the second ? Ansrvers. 1. (a) 6. (b') 55. (c) 4721. (i) 2680. (e) 515. 2. 421; 9; 881 ; 1089; 416; 2403. 3. (a) 58. (5) 644. (c) 315. (d) 720. 4. (a) 157. (5) 601. (c) 450. (d) 500. (e) B scored 70 ; C 21. (/) £3. (y) 880. (7/) 15. We may prove the correctness of our ans-wer in any subtraction by adding the lesser number to the difference. If the sum thus found is the same as the greater number, the answer is probably right. 86 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. The Veebs— Auxiliaries of Tense. 3 eitworter— Helping Time-words.) jtl'iiGlfs-tsitc woerter The Latin verblTvi, from which verh is taken, means word ; thus we have the proverb Yerlum sapientibus sat, “ A word to the wise is enough.” The verb is the one word indis- pensable in a sentence. Without it a com- plete sense cannot be expressed. The shortest sentence we can have in English is “ Go ! ” which means, Be thou going ! ” or “ Do 1 ” ■which means, “ Be thou doing ! ” The shortest possible sentence is the Latin imperative “ (Go thou), from the verb ire ; we have here a sentence consisting of a single letter. Now, as sentences cannot be formed without verbs, and as students of languages should begin to construct sentences for themselves as early as possible, we shall here, deviating from the usual method, at once give some preliminary remarks concerning verbs, and then proceed to consider the three verbs, l)aben, to have ; fepn or feilt to be ; and inerbcn — which, when it is used with the past participle of another verb, signi- fies to b(, and when it is used alone signifies to become. There are in German, as in other languages, various moods (or manners) in which the verb is expressed. The infinitive mood, which is not limited by time or person, and which simply names ^.^e verb, may be known in English by the sign TO : to eat, to drink, to go ; in German it is known by the termination en : effen, trinlen, ge^en,— and in some of our old css'-en tr\nli!-en gay'-en English authors we have the infinitive some- times ending in en. Chaucer says, ‘‘ To liven in delight was all his wone ” (custom) ; to ‘‘ contrefeten,” for to counterfeit; to “sayen,” for to say ; “ to holden” for to hold, etc. The INDICATIVE MOOD asscrts or points out (in- dicates) a fact : (?t fingt, he sings. The airr zingt SUBJUNCTIVE MOOD is dependent on the in- dicative, and is thus subordinated or subjoined to it. The signs by which it is known are the words that or may expressed or understood : (5r liegt frani, he lies sick (indicative) ; 0ie airr Icegt hranh zee fagen cr liege Irani they say (that) he lies zah'gen airr lee'ge Tcranh sick (subjunctive). The imperative mood commands or entreats : SintiUOrte iud)t, answer anif-rort-e neccht notl (^ieh und itnfer tdglic{)ed S3rob! Give geej) nns nn' -ser taig' -lich-cs brot us our daily bread ! The conditional is also considered a moed. It expresses an occurrence or a fact as dependent upon another, preceding or accompanying it : ihurfce fommen, ich n'uerr'-de horn' -men tnenn i^ 3^ii ^ should come if I had Venn ich tseit het'-te time. Thus my coming is made dependent or conditional upon my having time. Of the Tenses it maybe observed, in the first place, that the word imperfect means incom- plete, and perfect complete. I had a holiday, 3c^ t;atte einen geiertag (imperfect) ; 30 ich hatf-te ey'-nen fy-err-tahg ich |)abe einen geiertag gei)abt I have had a ha' -be ey-nen fy'-err-tag ge-hapt' holiday (perfect). Thus the imperfect generally wants another word to complete the sense; the perfect states a fact completely. The plu- perfect (Latin pins quam perfectum, more than perfect) speaks of a thing that was complete before another subsequent thing, that is also past: 30 bcrior, geflern mein ich fcrr-lore' gest'-errn mine 55u0; mein greunb^tte e^ mir gegeben, booch mein froind half -te ess meerr ge-gay'-ben I lost yesterday my book ; my friend had it to me given ; here had given is pluperfect, for it was complete before the loss took place, which is also past. The second future and second CONDITIONAL are also called “future past, and conditional past.” The future past is used in speaking of what is future now, but will be past at the time of which I speak : for instance, “ To-morrow I shall have been here a week” ; my being here a week is future now, but will be past at the time of which I speak — to- morrow. Further particulars concerning the use of moods and tenses will be given in due course. The Verb to Hate. (The verb babcn, to have, has two separate characters. It is an auxiliary when it helps to form certain tenses of other verbs: 3cb babe ich ha -be gebbrt I have heard. It is a transitive verb ge-hoert' when it stands alone, and has a separate mean- ing— to possess : 3cb b^be eiue SSlume, I have a flower.) Principal Parts of the Verb. Infinitive mood. Past (imperfect). Past participle. baben, to have, bcitte, had. gebabt had. ha'-ben hat' -te ge-hapt' INDICATIVE mood. Present Tense. 30 b'^lbe, I have ich ha' -be !Du bafl, thou hast doo hast (5r C0{c, c^) bat be (she, it) has airr {zee, css) hat Ssir b'^ben, wc have veerr ha'-ben 3bt babt ye have eerr havt ©te baben, they have zee ha'-ben With regard to pronunciation, it must be remembered that the letters ba in baben are always pronounced like the English excla- mation “ha! ha!” therefore bafl in German must not be sounded like the English hast^ GERMAN. 87 nor |)at like the English hat; it must be the ah sound, but not long. The student should get some one who understands German to read the verb carefully over to him, as no combination of English letters will exactly give the sound of the German ^afl and I;at. N.B. — In poetry, the of the second person plural is often lengthened into I;abet. Imperfect. ^>atte, I had icli hat' -te !Du ^attefl, thou hadst doo hath -test (Sr :^atte, he had ayrr hat' -te SBir :^atten, we had veerr hat' -ten ^attet, ye had eerr hat-tet ©te l^attcn, they had zee hat -ten Pronunciation, etc. — Remember that the ••stress is always on the first syllable, which is here the radical or root syllable, containing the meaning of the word ; while the final gives only the change belonging to the tense. In Chaucer’s time the English had (the imperfect tense) was written “hadde,” and pronounced as two syllables : Yet hadde he but litel gold in oofre.” Perfect. |>abe I have had ich ha' -he gehapt £)U |)aft ge^abt, thou hast had doo hast gehajJt Sr ^at ge^abt, be has had airr hat gehapt IBir bdben gebabt, we have had veer ha* -hen gehapt gebabt, you have had cerr hapt gehapt (51 te bdben gebabt, they have had zee ha' -hen gehapt The perfect is thus merely a repetition of the present tense' with the past participle ■fiebabt (had) added. The ge is the prefix that marks the past participle : thus, fe^en, to see; gefe^en, seen. In the old English this ge was softened into y. Thus in Chaucer we have “ y writen ” for written, yshadowed ” for sha- dowed, “ ystored ” for stored. The past parti- ciple is formed in a regular verb by putting the ge before the infinitive, and changing the termination en into t — ge-hah-t. The ge is pronounced as in the English word anger ; the accent is here on the second syllable : pronounce ge-hapt. Pluperfect. 3cb batte gebabt l bad bad ich hatte gehapt gebabt thou hadst had doo hat -test gehapt Qr he had had airr hat -te gehapt 23ir bcittcn gebabt, we had had veerr hatten gehapt gebabt, you had had 4:err hat-tet gehapt ©ie batten gebabt they had had zee hat -ten gehapt The pluperfect is the form of the imperfect, with the addition of the past participle geb^bt. When the verb consists of more than one word, the tense is called compound. In compound tenses, the past participle and the infinitive which form part of the tense are put to the end of the sentence when the sentence is simple and direct — that is to say, when it begins with the nominative case. Thus : He has had a book, (Sr belt ein S5u^ gebabt; I bad bad an apple, 3cb b«be einen 2lpfe( gebabt. Future. 3(b tberbe baben, I shall have ich vairr'-de ha' -hen njirft baben, tbou wilt have doo vierrst (Sr tritb baben, be will have ayrr vierrt 2Btr trerben baben, we shall have veerr vairr'-den 3bt iberbet b^^ben, ye will have eerr vairr'-det ©ie njerben baben, they will have zee rairr'-den Here we have the auxiliary tnerben, which, when used with an active verb, signifies “ shall ” or “will” : werbe ein S5u(b b^ben, I shall have a book. Second Future, or Future Past. •Seb wetbe gebabt baben, I shall have bad ich vairr'-de ge hapt ha' -hen 2)n tvnrft gebabt baben, thou wilt have bad doo vierrst ge-hapt ho! -hen (Sr ihirb gebabt . baben, be will have bad airr vierrt ge-hap't ha! -hen 2Bir iverben gebabt baben, we shall have weer vairr'-den ge-hapt ha'-hen [had 3bt tberbet gebabt baben, ye will have eerr vair'-det ge-hapt ha'-hen [had ©ie n)erben gebabt baben, they will have zee vairr'-deii ge-hapt ha'-hen Here the verb is compounded of three words. Both the past participle and the infinitive are moved to the end of the sentence : 3^ therbe einen Slpfet iinb eine ^irfebe gebabt baben, I shall have bad an apple and a cherry, THE CONDITIONAL. 3cb ihiitbe baben, I should have ich wuerr'-de ha'-hen ©It triirbeft baben, thou wouldst have doo' vuerr-dest ha‘-hcn (Sr tinitbe baben, he would have ayrr wuerr'-de ha'-hen Sir tnhrben baben, we should have veerr vuerr'-den ha'-hen 3br tnittbet baben, yc would have eerr vuerr'-det ha'-hen ©ie iriirben baben, they would have ' zee vuerr'-den ha'-hen The imperfect of the auxiliary inerben— ibUrbe with the Uintantor modulation on the u ([nhtrbe}, expresses the idea “should” or “would,” as njerbe expresses “ shall.” 88 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. III. If the reader has carefully considered and fairly mastered the facts to which his attention has been directed, and the con- Inferences and elusions drawn from them, he suggestions. gained some general ideas of great importance respecting the study upon which he has entered. It> will have occurred to him that the changes which have taken place in the Mendips— the rising and sinking of the land, the deposit of great thicknesses of mud which now make up the several kinds of strata there to be seen, the curving and crumpling of these strata, and their subsequent denudation — cannot have been isolated phenomena. What \vas going on at the same time in other parts of what are now the British Islands ? Is there any record elsewhere of the inter- val that elapsed be- tween the upheaval of the strata that make up the bulk of the Mendip range and the deposit of the “un- conformablc ” strata .which lie on their upturned ends ? What- ever may have been the length of that in- terval, it was long enough to allow of the denudation of an im- mense mass of rock : is that interval a blank in geological history ? Do the later strata there shown close the story which the geologist has to tell ? Are there any deposits known to be earlier ? If there are, can we arrange them in their regular order of succession? Was there any animal life on the dry land ? What do wo know of the inhabitants of the sea ? What can we learn respecting the plants of the whole period 1 These and other questions we shall endeavour to answer in subsequent lessons. We must, however, first consider a little more in detail the nature of the various kinds of rocks in general ; and this vnll now occupy our attention. EOCKS AND THEIE CLASSIFICATION. The word “ rock” is popularly applied to large masses of hard, stony material ; the geologist employs it in a more extended sense to de- signate all masses of^which the earth’s surface is composed, whether hard or soft. The sands and clays of the London Basin, for instance, are “rocks” from a geological point of view as truly as the hard masses which form the mountains of North Wales, the highlands of Scotland, or the Alpine range. We divide them, for convenience, into three classes — Igneous, Sedimentary and jSletamorpldc . Igneous rocks are those which have been formed from molten material, and the part which these rocks and the forces they indicate play in the niodifi-^°^‘^°-”^®^°^^°"' cation and renewal of the earth's crust is very important. We shall best understand the method of their formation by examining the structure of a volcano and the nature of its productions. Of the causes of an eruption we know next to nothing. We do not understand why it is that now and again a quantity of melted matter forces its way through to the earth’s surface — nor do we know the extent of the reservoirs from whence it is drawn. The most generally accepted theory is that the increased energy which causes volcanic outbreaks is induced the expansive and explosive effects of steam,, produced by the access of water to still highly heated [fluid portions of the interior of the earth. The suggestion is a very probable one, but it is only a theory after all. What we do know is that vol- canic eruptions have taken place during every geological period, as well as in modern times. “ There is pro- bably,” says an emi- nent authority, “ no great region of the earth’s surface where volcanic activity is not manifested now, or has not been mani- fested at some former period. So far as. geological evidence can guide us, we have no reason to believe that there has ever been any epoch in the earth’s history when, volcanic action has not been displayed. . . . nor does geological evidence lead us .to con- clude that there has been any diminution in the activity of the volcanic forces during the past history of the earth.” Let us now inquire what takes place when a volcanic eruption occurs. A mass of melted mat- ter forces its way from below the earth’s surface upwards through the strata. Finding vent in this ‘ manner, steam, fi-agments of rock and other material are blown out in a direct line to a great height. A portion of the matter ejected is carried away as dust and cinder by the wind — the larger part falls back and accumulates round the orifice from which it was thrown out, forming a conical mound. At times liquid matter rises to the top of the vent and boils over, forming streams of lava, and further con- solidates, as it cools, the conical hill, which thus, as the eruptions continue, increases in size and stability. The foregoing engraving may serve to render this description a little more clear. * Ceikie. IDEAL SECTIOX OE A TOLCAXO. mSTOllY OF MODERN TIMES. 89 a represents strata broken or burnt through by molten matter from below ; h the gradually accumulating ash and cinder, consolidated by lava streams ; g indicates a part of the under- ground mass that has supplied the erupted matter. Volcanoes may cease to be active, and lie dormant for a time, only to break out again into renewed aetivity; but wo Extinct and j^^ow also that sooner or later voSoes. become extinct. The heat dies away, the neck or pipe is choked up with hardened lava, and the under- ground mass slowly solidifies. In process of time, as we might expect, and as in all the older formations has actually been the case, the volcanic cones are destroyed by atmo- spheric agencies, and disappear. The beds of ash (tuff) become consolidated, and with the lavas are partially preserved, often for a much longer time. Finally, the deeper seated bosses of rock, denuded of the superincumbent strata, are exposed to view. In some instances the melted mass be- neath the sur- face has cooled without any part having found vent through a volcanic erup- tion, and in others all traces of the eruption have dis- appeared. Let us suppose, then, a volcano to have become ex- tinct, and the processes we have described to have transpired, we should have as the result several hinds of rock composed of same materials, but difEering Merentlands 5,^ character. ofthesame beds of fragments material. {volcanic Ih'cccia and tuff '). 2. Lava streams, either as volcanic glass or crystallized fpitclistones, olsidians, pumice, trachytes, Vasalts, etc.). 3. Deep-seated bosses, also crystallized, but distinguishable by their mode of occur- rence and the character of their crystal- lization {granites, syenites, etc.). 4. A group of rocks which appear to hold an intermediate position {felstoncs, fcl- spatliic jjorpltyries, etc.). We are thus able to divide igneous rocks into two great classes : Plutokic, those formed at considerable depths below the GBAiriTE EOeX TRAVSESXD BT IJTXEUSIVIl VKIXS OT IfEWES GEAKira (caelsbab). Plutonic and volcanic rocks. surface ; and Volcanic, those which have been originally lava flows, or have been made up of ash and volcanic fragments. Germany and the Eeformation. The Eeformation was the great event which everywhere in Europe charac- terized the transition from the Importance middle ages to modern times ; tor it was in tins direction — in the struggle for emancipation from religious thraldom — that the strength of a world intel- lectually awakened was put forth. Everywhere there was a moving and a shaking of the dry bones of centuries ; and the result of the struggle in the various countries, — in some triumphant success, in others failure, in others again a mixed issue partaking of the qualities ^ ^ of both, — had the most powerful in- fluence on the sub- sequent history of the nations individually. During the whole of the fifteenth century the dissatisfac- tion of all classes of society with the condition of things in the Church had been steadily increas- ing ; and the causes of that dissatisfaction be- came aggravated as time went on. One of the great objects of the Church Council at Constance, early in the century, had been to organize a reform that should immediate commence and proceed within the causes. Church itself. But when this Council, after executing vengeance upon the reformers John Huss and Jerome of Prague, had failed to fulfil its important duty of doing away with the scandals of the Church ; and when the Church Council of Basle, that was to have taken up the w^ork left undone at Constance, proved equally abortive — the feeling throughout the German empire was one, not only of dis- satisfaction, but of Opposition, gradually de- veloping into active enmity and liatrcd among the laity towards the Church. The princes, jealous for the maintenance of authority, ori- ginally averse from any change emanating from the people, had hoped and expected that the necessary reforms would be initiated and carried out by the Church itself, and were angry that all warnings and exhortations to voluntary changes were disregarded by the popes. They complained that the clerical courts 90 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. interfered with the course of secular justice; that the right of granting dispensations, exercised by the Homish see. had State of church extended beyond all reason- matters. limits, and overrode all authority ; that the annates, or custom of paying the first year’s income on the award- ing of a bishopric, the giving of offices and emoluments to cardinals residing abroad, the manifold exaction of clerical taxes, all tended to impoverish the empire. The lower clergy looked with disgust on the mendicant friars, especially the Dominicans, who under- mined their influence wdth the people, and were favoured by the popes, whose supremacy they upheld with a zeal that was sometimes suicidal. The piously disposed were scandalized at the glaring contrast between the lives and the pro- fession of a part of the clergy, and at the woiid- liness of the bishops ; thinking men were angry nt the gross ignorance in which the people were kept, and at the ■dark superstition that manifested itself in the adoration of relics and in image and picture-wor- ship ; while the learned were moved to scorn, not unmingled with dis- may, when they looked upon the utter ignorance, indifference, and narrow- mindedness of a large section of the clergy, — •blind leaders of the blind, who kept the people in the very depths of cre- dulity and superstition. The clumsy edifice of mediaeval theology was assailed with weapons drawn from the waitings of classical antiquity, and ■still more by the Bible, which was a closed book to the people, and ])y passages from the earliest fathers of the Church. Many customs and insti- tutions connected wath the Church ware felt to have outlived their time, and to have become not -only unnecessary, but objectionable ; the right of sanctuaiy, for example, which interfered LrXHEH S CELL AT ERFUKT. with the course of justice, and afforded a method of escape for State of the convents and 'i ■T''”; """ monasteries, criminals ; the frequent holidays and saints days, that promoted idleness and vagrancy, and thus became a stone of offence to the townspeojile ; and the numerous ■convents, with their doles to beggars, that directly promoted mendicancy. All these cir- cumstances working together produced a sin- gular unanimity of thought amotig the advanced spirits of the age, and the people those men -endeavoured to influence. Popular literature took the form of satire against the monks and their supporters ; and, especially in Saxony and the adjoining principalities, the Hussite principles, an offshoot of the old Wycliffite movement of a century and a half old, had never been eradi- Hussite principles. cated, but w’erc ready to burst forth again, when the hour should come, and the man. The man came forth in due time, not from among the great ones of the land, or from the gilded palaces of the great, but from among the v/orking people. It was from a miner’s cot- tage in a small Saxon towm that the voice was to issue that should proclaim through Germany and through Europe the news of freedom from the slavery of Borne. In the little town of Eisleben, in Saxony, was born on November 10th, 1483, Martin Luther. His father, Hans Luther, was an honest labour- ing man belonging to a family „ . _ , of miners at Golma. We are told that Hans Luther brought up his ® little son creditably in the fear of God by the gains of his mining labours ; and when the boy was of a suitable age sent him, with heartfelt prayer, to the Latin school, where Martin soon Icamed the Ten Commandments, the Child’s Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and likewise the Child’s Grammar, and psalm- singing. It was at Mans- feld that Luther received these rudiments of educa- tion ; and as his father, wffio appears to have pos- sessed some ambition, designed him for the study of the law, he w^as taken, in his fifteenth year, to Eisenach, where, as a poor scholar, he was obliged to sing hymns wdth his companions at the doors of rich citi- zens, for his daily bread. “ Despise not those poor lads who cry at your door Pancm propter Eeum," said Luther once, in the height of his fame and honour ; ‘‘I myself wms once such a screeching boy, and have sought my bread at people’s doors, especially in my beloved city of Eisenach.” In due time the young scholar proceeded to the university of Erfurt ; and it is related by his biographer Mathesius that here for the first time he found, education, in the university library, a complete Bible, a Latin version, i:)art of which he read wdth in- tense interest, astonished “ at the many more texts. Epistles and Gospels than are usually explained in the homilies or from the pulpits in churches.” He had been diligently studying for four years, when a sudden calamity gave another direction to his life. His friend Alexis was struck dead at his side by a flash of light- ning : seized with horror, and the dread of judgment to come, the young student resolved to work out his salvation by conventual aus- terities. He made a sudden vow to become a monk ; for the last time he enjoyed the society of his companions in a concluding festive meeting ; and then, on St. Alexius’ day, July 17th, 1005, having taken his degree at the uni- Luiuiiu’s Ki:fETr-riV£ theses at wittenbeeg church door. 92 TBE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. versitj, he immured himself in the solitude of a cell in the monastery of the lutlHr 1)60011183 Augustine Friars, at Erfurt. “ I o.mon . entered the monastery, and left the world,” he says, “despairing of myself. I thought God would not take my part; and 'if I meant to go to heaven, and be saved, it must be by my own efforts. For this reason I became a monk, and laboured hard.” The monk in due time became a priest; and he seems to have worked with feverish anxiety, in the hope of gaining peace. The beginning of Luther’s clerical career reminds us strangely of a passage in the life of John Bunyan. Like the inspired puritan, he was seized with a horror of great darkness. In vain did he en- deavour, by a zealous performance of monastic duties and a rigid subservience to monastic rule, to obtain peace for his soul. “ The more I strove,” he says, “ to pacify my conscience by means of fasting, watching, and praying, the less quiet and peace I felt ; for the true light was hidden from mine eyes. The more I sought the Lord, and thought to approach Him, the farther I departed from Him.” But the consolation he could not find in the works of the scholastics, or in hard penances, mortifications, and fasting, he found in the words of the Bible. At length he came His Bible conviction “ that man must researches and salvation not through his taeir result. through faith in the mercy of God through Christ,” — and this became the foundation of his doctrine. Through the re- commendation of Johann Staupitz, vicar-general of the order of St. Augustine, Luther was ap- pointed as lecturer on philosophy and divinity at the university of Wittenberg, newly founded by the Elector Frederick the Wise. This was in 1608 ; and for some years we find Luther fully and congenially employed, preaching boldly against the fallacies of the scholastics and the doctrine of justification by works. “ As I have begun,” he says, “ I will go through with this work.” A journey he undertook to Homo, on the business of the convent, opened Luther’s eyes as to the disgraceful state of things in the metropolis of the Church. “I have myself heard itsaidatKome,” he tells us, “it is impossible that matters can remain in that state ; things must change or break down.” He was astonished at the pomp, the worldliness, and the wickedness displayed everywhere. His eyes were thoroughly opened. “ He would not take a thousand florins not to have been at Borne.” Great sums of money were at this time re- quired by the pope, for the completion of the architectural wonder of the world, The sale of church of St. Peter in Borne, indulgences. Accordingly, to fill the papal cof- fers, indulgences were sold to an extent and with an audacity till then unattempted. These indulgences promised the purchaser forgiveness of sins, the favour of heaven, and release from the fires of purgatory. Then it happened that the Elector Albert of Mayence, commissioned by Pope Leo X., caused a sale of these indul- gences to be preached; and like Chaucer’s “ Pardoner,” who travelled with his wallet full of “pardons from Borne, all hot,” there came to Wittenberg the Dominican monk Tetzel, who is reported to have brought with him an iron chest, wherein to deposit the sums collected, and to have boldly preached the startling doc- trine, that so soon as the money was deposited in the box, the soul on whose behalf it was paid was admitted into heaven (“ So bald das Geld in Hasten klingt, Die Seel alsbald in’n Himmel springt.”) Indignation, alike at the traffic and at the manner in which it was pur- sued, roused Luther to action. On All-hallow’s Eve of the year 1517 he nailed to the church door at Wittenberg ninety-five theses or propo- siti ons,donying the efficacy of indulgence without repentance, and declaring that the pope had no right to give abso- lution except to penitent sinners — maintaining, moreover, that an indulgence, while it released those who obtained it from the punishment inflicted by the Church, could not obtain pardon from God. These pro- positions he pledged himself to maintain against all comers. The reasonableness of Luther’s theses, and the boldness with which the earnest monk took up the cause of truth against error, woke an echo throughout Germany, and es- pecially recommended Luther and his cause to the students at Wittenberg and elsewhere ; and the effect was increased by the weakness of the arguments adduced against him by Tetzel and other champions of papal authority. Luther was summoned to Borne to answer for his con- duct ; but the Elector of Saxony, who was favourably inclined towards him, managed that the mxatter should be discussed not in Borne, but at Augsburg, where the learned Dominican Cajetan, the legate of Leo, undertook to put the refractory monk to silence. But the scholastic learning of Cajetan was I-utlier and no match for the earnestness, the Cardmal Scriptural reading, and the ready Cajetan. wit of Luther, who after a short disputation was dismissed by Cajetan with an angry and peremptory injunction to appear before him no more until he was ready to recant his alleged errors. Luther was obliged to escape from Augsburg by night, with the assistance of of some friends, after formulating an appeal to the pope, whom he declared to be misinformed. Thereupon the Elector was urged to deliver up Luther to the vengeance of Borne, or at least to banish him from the electoral territories ; but he nobly refused to do either. He declared the reformer’s wish for an impartial investigation a reasonable one, and became his powerful and consistent protector. Bules of Peonunciation. The Simple Vowels. § 11. A. In a ratio of which the quantities are open to discussion, this vowel has a short FRENCH PRONUNCIATION. 93 sound, wliich, for convenience’ sake, we stall mark a ; and a hroad sound, which we figure thus : d. The short sound imparts softness, and the broad roughness, to the pronunciation. The Parisian speech much affects the latter sound. From the broad d to the short d there is a gamut, which faithfully adheres to the social scale ; for whereas with the less educated almost every a is broad, and this as broad as can be, with the refined the broad d only comes to relieve the monotony which a con- stantly recurring sound, however fine, would produce. Between d and d there is a medium a, removed by such a light shade from the short that M. Littre does not take it into account at all ; the Academic, while admitting its exist- ence, gives no clue to its recognition. From what precedes, it will be gathered that the following remarks must be looked upon more as useful hints than exhaustive rules. § 12. A, initial or final, is short, and pro- nounced like a in cap : — acacia, acacia, pron. d-hd-sid. alia, he w'ent, „ d-ld. asilc, shelter, d-zeel. Canada, Canada, „ Kd-nd-dd. he mocked ,, md-hd. mignonette „ ray-zay-dd. moqua, reseda. Exercise I. — Read aloud several times the following words, which have the same sound : — abracadabra, incantation. caporal, corporal. drap {dra'), cloth. hamac, hammock. lacs (lak'), lakes. arbre (ai'br), tree. ^ catastrophe {phe^^'f), catastrophe. chasse {shass'), hunt. malade (de = d'), invalid. camarade {de = d'), comrade. There are hundreds more of the same kind. § 13. which appears alone, or at the end of a word, and not otherwise, is also pro- nounced like a in cay : — d. to or at, pron. d. (^d, here. sd. dejd. already. 5J day-zhd. Id, there, . 5) Id. § 14. a is broad, and pronounced like a in rather : — dme. soul, pron. dm'. bat, pack-saddle. ?? bd. chdssis. frame. ?> shd-see. crane. skull. erdn' . gateau. cake. j? ghd-to. pdtre. herdsman. pdtr' . rongedtre, reddish. 5J roo-zhdtr'. thedtre. theatre. tay-dtr'. § 15. Remark. — The same broad sound of a in rather is met with in — (1) Words of which the singular ends in as : as (os'), ace ; atlas (d-tlds'), atlas ; bas (bd), stocking; trepas {tray-pd), death; damas (dd-md), damask. (2) The syllable ase : base (bdz'), basis ; case (Jcdz'), hut, etc. ; but rase, phase, and others, take the medium sound (pee § 16). (3) The liquid syllable aille (see § 53); maille ^nd-lV), mesh ; paille (pd-lV), straw ; taille (fd-ll'), size ; caille (cd-W), quail ; canaille (kd-nd-lV), mob ; bataille (bd-td-lV), battle, etc. (4) Some words which have arr coming after a consonant : carreau (kd-ro), pane or tile ; barreau (bd~ro), bar (cf. § 16). (5) Casser (hd-say'), to break ; 'tasser (td-say) , to shake down; passer {pd-.say), to pass; lacs (Id), snares ; gaz (ghdz'), gas, etc. Exercise II. — Read aloud and commit to memory (sound and sense) the following : — ananas (d-nd-nd), a pine-apple. cadenas (kd-dnd), a padlock, canevas (kd-nvd), canvas. casemate (kdz-mdt), a casemate. chasselas (shd-sld), a species of white grape. matelas (md-tld), mattress, [pane. vasistas (vd-zee-stds), a practicable window- § 16. A medium sounds like a in arts. It is given to the verbal terminations : at, ames, dtes, the circumflex in these merely indicating the disused s : qu'il alldt (keel d-la), that he might go ; nous pla<^dmes (noo pld-sam'), we placed ; rous risitdtes (voo ree-zee-tat'), you visited. It is usually assigned to the liquid syllable ail (see § 53), to arr and as coming after consonants (see exceptions, § 15), and to the termination ation : corail, coral ; carrosse, carriage; basiliquc,ch.Vir(Ax', accidental ; vase, slime ; phase, phase ; casserole, pan ; consolation (tion — sion), comfort ; chocolat, chocolate, etc. Remark. — It is perceived at a glance that although laws for the sound of a can be laid down, the law, if there be one, has yet to be discovered. That, however, it is indispensable to observe the various shades of a the following anecdote wall show ; — “ Un bon bourgeois cam- pagnard, devenu vieux, invitd a aller rendre visite d un nouveau voisin assez 61oign6, re- pondit : ‘ Je marche difficilement, mais mon dne me conduira.’ — ‘ Monsieur, j’ai un cheval a votre service.’ — ‘ Mais, monsieur, e’est de ma fille queje parle.’ — ‘ Pardon, monsieur, j’ignorais que mademoiselle votre fille portat le nom , , . d.'Aniie.'' ” , § 17. A A, placed at the beginning of a noun, sound like one mediuon a : Aar (ar), a river ; Aarbourg (ar-boor), a town. Aaron is pro- nounced Aron in poetry, whereas in prose both a's are slightly felt. In the middle of a word aa forms two distinct syllables ; Baal (Ba-aV), Isaac (Ee-za-ac). § 18. -K To the eye only four kinds of e's are apparent : e, e, e, e ; but in reality there are six, viz. : — (1) e mute, as e in the English word table ; (2) e slender, as uin nut, but less marked ; (3) e close, as a in baker ; (4) e semi-close, a shade more open than a in ^baker ; (5) e open, as ea in bread ; (6) e open, and longer than e. § 19. A!' mute. —(a) Placed at the end of a word which contains another vowel it is not heard, but it allows the voice to fall softly, and it is peculiarly precious in poetry and music. Here is what Voltaire, quoted by M, Littr6, says of it: “Vous nous reprochez nos e muets comme un son triste et sourd qui 94 THE UNI V EE SAL INSTRUCTOR. expire dans notre bouche, mais c’est pr6cis6- ment dans ces e muets que consiste la grande harmoniede notre prose et de nos vers ; empire, couronne, diademe, flamme, teridrcsse, victoire, — toutes ces ddsinences heureuses laissent dans Toreille un son qui subsiste encore apres le mot commence comme un clavecin qui resonne quand les doigts ne frappent plus les touches.” Examples : dme, soul, pron. dm' eglise, church, „ ay-glecz' pldtre, plaster, „ pldtr' poupee, doll, „ poo-pai/ hone, mud, „ boo' foie, liver, „ food' (V) When the e mute final is followed by a word beginning with a vowel or silent h, it is elided, cut olf, and one word, as it were, is formed of the two : chose admirable, wonderful thing (pron. shosudmeerdbV) ; dpre au gain, keen in the pursuit of money (pron. dpro gain) ; porte ourerte on fermee, door open or shut (pron. portoovertoo fermay'). Remarli. — Le, a personal pronoun of which the e is slender (§ 18), requires, like all objective pronouns, to be put after an imperative affirma- tive, as gardcz-le. When the next word begins with a vowel or h mute, this le is not elided ; say gardez-le avec soin, and not lavec. In poetry, however, this occurs : “ Mais, mon petit monsieur, prenez-le un peu moinshaut” (MOLikRE — Le Misanthrope)', r^^diprenez-lun. Recent poets have not taken advantage of this licence. (c) WTien such words as le, me, ne, se, etc., which have the slender e, stand before each other or before the verb, it is quite permissible to change the e slender into e mute, and, con- sequently, to elide the e altogether. Thus it is > correct to pronounce : je n'le vois pas, 1 don’t see him, forje ne le vois pas ; and ye I'tois, I do see him, forye le vois. This elision also occurs in the middle of a word : devcleppement is read devlopment. Of this latitude the Parisian avails himself extensively. There being no precise rules for its recurrence, the educated alone know where the clipping and running into are graceful and where they become vulgar. Foreigners should not attempt this at first ; as for the southern Frenchmen, they do not seem to be capable of acquiring it at all. (d) Ent, termination of the 3rd person plural of all verbs, is mute: ils avaient, they had (pron. cel-zavc) ; dies ckerclient, they seek (pron. ell shersh). But the t of the syllable ent would be sounded if the next word began with a vowel or silent h : ils avaient amasse, they had heaped up (pron. eel zave tdmassay). Likewise, when a word ending in an e mute takes s for the sake of the plural, or in the verbal terminations es (2nd person singular), mes, tes (1st and 2nd persons plural), no sound is heard unless the next word begin with a vowel or silent h, when the connection is made with the s. Examples : des pertes, some losses (pron. day pert') ; \i-at des pertes inoui'es, unheard-of losses (pron. day pert' zeenooce) ; tu aimes, thou lovest (pron. tu em') ; but tu aimes d rire, thou lovest to laugh (pron. tu em zd reer). Thus : nous edmes (cum'), and nous eumes d partager (eum' zd) ; vousfaites (fait'), and vous faites exception (fait' zexception). (e) The e mute, placed between g and a, o, u, is there for no other purpose than to soften g before those vowels (see § 62). The necessity for this arises in a case where g soft being the final letter of a stem, as in manger, would become hard if a, o, or u were immediately affixed ; the original sound being thereby de- stroyed and the word rendered all but unin- telligible to the ear. Thus, if in manger we follow strictly the iniles for the formation of tenses, we should obtain mangant (\\^q parlant) for the present participle. This being read manghant would pre-suppose the primitive stem mangli instead of manzli ; hence the orthography mangeant. Remark. — The elisions referred to in para- graph b are also met wnth in poetry, whereas those given in c and d would be quite inad- missible. Unless e mute is followed by a vowel or silent h, it becomes, in verse, e slender, but is breathed rather than pronounced. Example : “La Saxe est debout tout entiere, Le flot sombre et vengeur va franchir sa frontim-e. La bataille sera dure, je vous le dis I Le pass^ n’est pas mort. Charlemagne, jadis, Donna I’ordre qu’en Saxe eut la tete coup6e Quiconque depassait la hauteur d’une ^pee. Ce fut trop peu ! Bientot viendront vos repentirs. O vainqueurs, prenez garde aux enfants des martyrs 1 “ (De Bokxieb — La FiUe de Boland.) This passage, considered from the point of view of the e mute alone, must be read after this manner : “ La Sax’ est de-bout tout entie-re, Le flot sombr’ et vengeur va franchir sa frontie-re. La batai-lle^ se-ra du-re, je vous le dis ! Le pa8s4 n’est pas mort. Char-le-ma-gne, jadis, Donna I’or-dre qu’en Sax’ eut la tete coup4-e Quicon-que depassait la hauteur d’un’ ^pe-e. Ce fut trop peu ! Bientot viendront vos re-pentirs. O vainqueiurs, pre-nez gard’aux enfants des martyrs.” The same lines, read as a piece of (exceed- ingly) familiar prose, would ofer the following sounds : “ La Sax’ est d’bout tout entier’, L’ flot sombr’ et vengeur va franchir sa frontier’. La bataiir s’ra dur’, j’ vous 1’ dis ! L’ passe n’est pas mort. Charl’magn’ ” But we stop the process of desecration : we might be summoned for damages ! lY. The Voice as an Instrument. (Continued). The point at which the vocal cords naturally change from the thick to the thin is just below the tone G, that note which stands on the second line of the treble staff. Most commonly the change takes place at F or E. This break is at the same point of absolute pitch in all voices, whether of men The break in or women. The voices of men the voice, and women are an octave apart in pitch ; the MUSIC, 05 compass of tenor and soprano, of contralto and bass, are, roughly speaking, the same, an octave apart. But it is not so with the registers, which are governed by absolute pitch. This break into the higher register is therefore at the very top of the bass voice, in the higher portion of the tenor voice, in the middle of the contralto voice, and at the bottom of the soprano. There is a break in the female voice an octave higher than the one we are speaking of, but it is of another kind, and will be spoken of presently. The physical cause of the break is probably this : as the voice ascends in the thick register the cords are stretched more tightly at each note. When this process of tightening has • been carried as far as the cartilages will bear the strain, the register is changed, and the thin edges of the cords vibrate, producing a higher sound with less effort. As the voice ascends, the process of tightening once more commences, and goes on until again the cartilages have reached the utmost point of tension. Beyond this point the voices of men do not go, but women have a still higher register. How is . this produced ? The cords cannot A peculiarity, made either thinner or tighter. When we come to considerthc rules of vibration, wo shall find that there is only one way remain- ing in which the pitch can be raised, and that is by slhortcning the cords. For the pitch of a vibrating string depends on three things — its thickness, tension, and length. The thinner, tighter, and shorter a string is, the higher note does it give ; and the thicker, looser, and longer it is, the lower is its note. Accordingly it is by shortening the cords that the highest register of women’s voices is produced. We therefore propose to call it the “ small register.” It is . sometimes called the “head VO ice,” ihe head voice. heard from high sopranos, being easily distinguished from the other registers by its thin, violin-like quality. JIadame Seiler, perhaps the most accurate ob- server of the voice, was long before she was able, by the laryngoscope, to see this highest register produced in her own voice. But at . , .. last she succeeded, and here is her An observation, observation : “ With the F sharp on the fifth line of the treble staff the vocal ligaments suddenly closed firmly together to tlieir middle, with their fine edges one over the other, leaving free only a third part of the whole glottis, close to the front of the larynx. The fore- most part of the cords formed an oval ori- fice, which with each higher tone seemed to contract more and more, and so became smaller and rounder. THE TOXE E-FLAT AS PRO- ^hc fillC CdgCS of thc nUCEU BY THE SLACK THIX - .1 • were alone vibrating, and the vibration seemed at first looser, but with every higher tone the ligaments became more stretched.” The three figures which follow show the production of a tone in each of the three registers we have described. Thc observer is SHALL PART OP THE THIN EDGES VIBRATING. supposed to be looking down upon the vocal cords from above them. In what, then, do good and bad, plea- sant and unpleasant voices, consist? We have seen how much the production of tone depends upon the tension of the cords. And we all know how different sorts of ^ wood, of ihe tone e-flat as pro- iron, of indiarubber, duced by the tight whole etc., vary in their elasticity or power of bending from their natu- ral shape and quickly returning to it. We may well suppose, then, that one quality of good vocal cords is tension. .Some singers, even without train- ° ing, can carry their registers higher than others by virtue of the natural strength of the cords. But the vocal cords also over- lap when they are at rest, and if their edges are ragged, they imperfectly stop the sound, and the voice, whether in speech or song, has no clear “attack.” Again, the ragged edges give rise to high and dissonant vibrations, which result in a thin, harsh tone of voice. Professor Tyndall notices this fact in his lectures on sound, and attributes thc harshness of his own voice to a defective overlapping of the cords. Fortunately for the singer, however, the lungs and the larynx are not the only factors of the voice. It is the shaping of the mouth more than all that deter- mines the quality of tone produced ; and the physical part of voice- training, besides strength- ening the lungs and bringing the cords under the will of the singer, consists in learning to strengthen the good and suppress the bad ele- ments of which every sound is made up. The mouth, the third and last agent in voice production, can be put into a great variety of positions, so as to enlarge, or lessen, or alter its cavity, It is, in fact, the shaping of this cavity that produces the The mouth, different vowels or qualities of tone. If we can imagine the vocal cords sounding without the mouth above them, it is true that they would give sounds of different pitch, but the quahty would be throughout the same. It is the mouth alone that makes the distinction between “ 00 ” and “ aa ” and “ ee ” and the rest of the vowels. In voice-production the cardinal rule is, “throw the breath forward.” Do not let the tone strike the back of the mouth, or attempt to rise through the nostrils, but try to direct It upon the soft pad The^toial which stands immediately above the front teeth. With all their disagreements, voice-trainers one and all say that tone is bad if it strikes the back of the mouth. Yet in many parts of England it is such a common practice to speak and sing at the back of the- 96 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR.^ mouth that the habit is formed insensibly, and it is very difficult of cure. Speaking and sing- ing go together, both as regards quality of tone and clearness of utterance. A soft, round and full voice, a distinct articulation, show their beauty both in speech and song, and this is an important fact for singers to bear in mind. Next to “ singing forward ” comes resonance, which consists in shaping the cavity of the mouth so as to produce the best tone. It is an established scientific fact that every tone of the voice is a compound of several tones, which can be separated and heard by acoustical AirCIENT HAXD-BELI.S. instruments. The higher part of this mixture of tones is hard and dissonant. It gives de- finiteness and brightness to the voice, but not volume or roundness. By shaping the mouth the lower tones of the mixture can be enforced and the higher ones disregarded, and this is what every singer must learn to do. But in singing, as in speaking, we do not always want the greatest depth and volume. We sometimes need clearness and piquancy. No one would speak the v/ords The dear one is dying in the same quality of tone as The brooklet is dancing, and voice-trainers distinguish in singing be- tween these “clear” and “ sombre ’’.resonances of the mouth. The following table shows at once the com- pass of the various voices and of Compass of registers. On the left hand voices. notes of the treble and bass staff, with the dotted lines to the right of them, showing the average compass of the four voices, soprano, contralto, tenor, and bass. Next, again, to the right are the piteh- names of the musical notes already given ; and nEGISTEUS A2tD VOICES. I -ss- & b‘ Small. Ja' O B A Cx (upper r Thin. jlhia. • F E D Ar Gi Fi El Di 1 B, A, G, Upper Thick. Thick. the brackets accompanying show the average extent of the various registers. The line on the extreme right denotes the registers, getting thieker as it descends, the dotted Line showing the tones which are optional, or can be pro- duced in either register. Of course the singer must learn to change from register to register with the least perceptible effort or change of tone. In this the art of singing largely con- sists. The soprano and contralto are the high and low voices of women and boys, just as the tenor and bass arc the high and low voices of men. There is an octave in pitch between men’s voices and those of women and boys. It must be understood that this division of voices is only a rough one. Voices differ in compass just as the human face differs. Sopranos which cannot sing high are known as mezzo-sopranos, and baritone is used to describe a voice between tenor and bass. The real contralto and bass voices are less common than the tenor and soprano. But an improved system of voice - training would result in the discovery of many new voices, and in the natural enlargement of compass in both directions. Mezzo-sopranos and baritones are often untrained or lazy specimens of one or other of the four principal voices ; and every singer should discover for himself, or by the help of a teacher, to which class his voice really belongs, or may be made to belong by gentle and natural tr.aining. ANCIENT HISTORY. 97 III. The Babylois'ian ajs’d Assyrian Empires. The early history of these, the greatest em- pires of antiquity, so far as it is known, is a revelation made within the last forty years' The earth has literally yielded up its dead, and the labours of explorers and decipherers have brought to light records hidden for forty cen- turies, revealing a history of which only faint The name Chaldea, although limited by Ptolemy and Strabo and other Greek geogra- phers to the south-w(^stcrn and western portions of ancient Baby- Chaldees. Ionia, on the north-eastern confines of Arabia, was commonly applied to Babylonia in general. The Hebrew term was “ Chardim,” or “ land of the Chardim ” (Chaldees). Some writers think that the name was originally “ Card,” changed in course of time to Chasd and Chald, and preserved in the modern Kurd. That some differences in chronology exist between the monumental records and the direct statements of commentators on the Old Testament is certain, but Chronology, it must be remembered that the latter. Usher and distorted traces had been preserved by oral and written tradition. In a previous chapter we mentioned the apocryphal history of Ctesias, showed how it was adopted by Greek writei’s long considered as authorities, and what a romantic but untrustworthy history had long been accepted as that of the great empires of the valley of the Euphrates and Tigris. Modern investigation, which has brought to light a vast number of authentic records, and revealed to us so much of the political and social life, the knowledge, andarts of antiquity, has cleared away the legendary mist which so long obscured the subject, while it has proved that almost the only approaches to authenticity are to be found in the scattered notices of Chaldea (or Babylonia) and Assyria in the Jewish Scriptures. VOL. I. and others, could only avail themselves of such aids as calculations made from Scriptural genealogies and from the waitings of secular historians (themselves imperfectly informed, though doing their best to reconcile various and contradictory traditions), and might easily be misled. But, in fact, the variations are not considerable, and the coincidences between tlie cuneiform and Scriptural records are so remark- able, that there is no doubt of the substantial accuracy of the latter. From the material now made available by the enthusiastic enterprise and patient investi- gation of such explorers and historical workers as Botta, Layard, Sir Henry Eawlinson, Pro- fessor Eawlinson, the late Mr. George Smith, and the Eev. A. H. Sayce, we shall endeavour to reconstruct the leading features of the 7 98 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. history of the remote times, when there were magnificent palaces, rich in artistic treasures, busy cities and teeming populations, in regions where now are half-ruined villages, huge mounds, scanty and miserable inhabitants of misgoverned towns, and predatoiy wanderers on bairen or marshy plains. To Babylonia and Assyria, more than to Egypt, the modern western world is indebted for the origin of the sciences and arts of civilization, and from the two great empires sprang the traditionary my- t.hologies wliich the poets of Greece made so sensuously beautiful, and which have so greatly influenced the development of modern litera- ture. Our information respecting the manner in which the country watered by the two great . , . . rivers became inhabited is very Kemote history, fragmentary. The Old Testament book of Genesis appears to in- dicate that the southern part of the region was the home of the families enumerated in the fifth chapter, and that, after the flood, Noah and his sons returned from Ararat towards the district where they formerly dwelt. Between the Biblical narrative and the Flood Legend discovered by Mr. Smith in the cuneiform in- scriptions there is great similarity. Berosus, one of the priestly chroniclers mentioned in our introductory chapter, asserts that there were ten antediluvian kings, assigns to their reigns the marvellous duration of 432,000 years, and states that after the flood there were eight dynasties, the first of which, the Chaldean, included eighty-six kings, and covered a period of 34,080 years, giving an average of about 396 years for each monarch. After this remarkable stretch of imagination, Berosus, without apparently a painful sense of disproportion, proceeds to mention a dynasty of eight Median kings, with the more probable average of twenty-eight years for each reign. Altogether, Berosus re- cords eight dynasties subsequent to the Flood ; but modern investigation has relegated the so-called history to the domain of legend. Mr. George Smith has collected moniunental re- cords of sixty-eight Babylonian and Assyrian monarchs, the last reigning about 730 B.C., and so bringing us within the limits of authentic history. It may be taken as almost certain that at the earliest times of which any positive inf orma- tion can be obtained, the country Early Races. inhabited by two races, the Accad, or “highlander,” in the south-east, and the Sumir, or “ people of the river,” on the north-west. The former had come from the mountainous regions of Elam, and were of the Turanian or Japhetic race ; the latter were Shemitic or Semitic. The former would ap- pear to have been for a considerable period the dominant race, and the oldest inscriptions are in the Turanian language, with the excep- tion of the names of the monarchs, which are Semitic, from which it has been concluded that the Semitic race conquered the other, and, although unable to effect a general change in the language, had used it for designating the kings in the inscribed records. The Babylo^sIAn Kingdoms and Empire. Extensive remains of great cities have been discovered, and the sites have been identified with those of places mentioned _ , . in the Book of Genesis. The Cities, oldest was probably Nipvr, now represented by Niffur, to the south-west of Babylon, between the two great rivers. It was the chief seat of the worship of Bel, the greatest of the three supreme divinities of the Babylonian mythology. Hur-ci, the moon god, was represented as the eldest son of Bel, and he was supposed to be the especial protector of another important place, U?' or Uru, the city not far from the old mouth of the Euphrates, and with which the mounds of Mugheir, enclosed by a wall nearly two miles in circumference, about six miles from the western bank of the river, are identified. There can be little doubt that this is the “ Ur of the Chaldees,” mentioned in Genesis as the birthplace of Abraham, Chaldea being the name generally applied in the earlier records of the Old Testament to the district. Other important cities of these early times were Erech, or Urick (now Narka), about 120 miles south of Babylon; Karr ah; Larsa, perhaps the Ella- sar mentioned in the first verse of Genesis xiv., and now represented by Senkereh; SipjMra, the Sepharvaim of later times, mentioned in the Second Book of Kings, and by the prophet Isaiah, the site being marked by the modern Sura ; Agane. near the same spot : and Zergulla. It is very probable that these cities were the capitals of territories, ruled over by separate kings or •semi-independent viceroys. The title Sar appears to have been given to the former, and that of Patesi to the latter, wliich was sometimes combined with that of one of the deities of the Babylonian mythology, and in that case may be taken to indicate an independent king who assumed the title of a servant of the divinity, as “ Patesi-Assur,” or viceroy of the god Assur. BABXLONIAJT HISTOEICAL CYLIXDEE. Faintly traced in the strange arrow-headed characters, we find fragmentary records of various kings. One powerful monarch, whose name has been Inscribed read by Sir H. Kawlinson as Urukh, Records, and by other decipherers as Lig-Bagas, “ the lion of the mother of the gods,” appears to have been almost absolute ruler of the country, other chiefs being his viceroys or vassals. No existing monuments date beyond his period, which is certainly before 2000 B.C., although it is impossible to fix it with greater preci- sion. His royal residence was at Ur, and there is evidence that in his time arts and sciences LATIN. 99 had made considerable progress. He adorned the great cities of his dominion -vritli temples and palaces. At Ur was a temple to the sun- god, at Larea one to the moon-god ; a temple to Bel, and another to the goddess Beltis at Hipur ; at Uruk (Erech) he erected Bitanna, or “the house of heaven,” devoted to the worship of Ishtar, the Babylonian Venus ; and at Zingulla a temple to the king of gods. These temples were generally enormous brick structures cemented with bitumen, and the mode of building shows a considerable acquaintance with the principles of architecture. It is esti- mated that in the construction of the great temple to the sun-god at Ur, thirty millions of bricks were used. The erection of such stupendous edifices must have given employ- ment to vast hosts of labourers, showing the extent of the king’s authority and the wealth at his command. The art of writing in the cuneiform character was fully developed, and the carvings on the buildings and engravings on the signet rings of the period show consider- able artistic skill. The son of this Urukh, or Lig-Bagas, was Dungi, whose dominion ex- tended as far north as Babylon, a town founded at a very remote period, but then of comparatively small importance. He completed the great sun-temple left unfinished by his father, and erected other temples. After his death the power of his kingdom declined, but the names of three other monarchy are preserved — Su-Agu, Amar-Agu, and Ibit-Agu, the affix being one of the forms of the name of the moon-god. It is absolutely impossible to give more than an approximate date for the reigns of these kings. It was probably towards the close Time of Qf dynasty that Abraham, with raJiam. father Terah and his nephew Lot, was compelled to quit Ur, of which he was a native, and where it is probable they were wealthy and important persons, and travelled about six hundred miles in a north- westerly direction to the fertile plains about Haran, in Mesopotamia, between the rivers Khabour and Euphrates, where they were free from the persecution which pcrha})S they endured for refusing to join in the worship of the sun-god The Biblical narrative says, “ they went forth from Ur of the Chaldees, to go into the land of Canaan, and they came unto Haran, and dwelt there.” IV. The Latin Aeticle, and the Latin Pkepositions. TTic, this, which is properly a demonstrative pronoun, is used for the Article in Latin, and is thus declined : — ■ Singular. Masculine. Fenfinine. Neuter. Nom. & Voc. hie (this) hsec hoc Acc. hunc (this) hanc hoc Gen. hujus (of this) Dat. huic (to this) Abl. hoc (by this) hac hue Plural. Nom. & Voc. hi (these) hse haec Acc. hos (these) has haec G en. horum (of these) harum horum Dat. his (to these) Abl. his (by these) Prepositions point out the relations in which substantives or pronouns stand to each other or to verbs. They always govern, that is alter the form by changing the case of the noun which follows them immediately, or with which they are connected. Some of the prepositions govern the accusative case, some the ablative, and some both accusa- tive and ablative in different senses. They are called prepositions because they are put (Latin to put) before (Latin pre, before) the noun. Let me explain what I mean by the preposition governing the cases of a noun. Thus the nominative case of the Latin word for man is homo, as I have already told you. Now, if I want to put into Latin “ on account of man,” I use the preposition propter, which means “ on account of ” and governs the accu- sative case, and so I put propter before the Latin word for man, homo, changed from a nominative case into an accusative case — that is, hominem instead of homo — and say, giropter hominem, on account of man ; then if I want to put into Latin “ concerning man,” I use the Latin preposition de for “ concerning,” which governs an ablative case, and change the Latin word homo from its nominative case to its ablative homine, and so write de homine, concerning a man. Another important use of the Latin prepo- sitions is this — that they are very largely used with verbs as compounds, as well as in “ govern- ing ” the cases of nouns when uncompounded ; but whether compounded or not, they govern the cases of nouns, and for this reason I want you to learn their use before you learn the Latin nouns and verbs with which they are so essentially and constantly connected. I ought to tell you that the prepositions in composition with verbs often alter the last letter for the sake of euphony, and assimilate themselves to the first letter of the verb : thus ad-pono becomes appono, to put to ; in-pono becomes impono, to put upon (and so to im- pose) ; oh-gjono becomes oppono, to put against (and so to oppose) ; snh-pono becomes suppono, to put beneath or suggest (and so to suppose) ; and cum-gjono becomes compono, to put together (and so to compose). I must ask you now to learn by heart the prepositions which govern the accusative, those governing the ablative, and those govern- ing the accusative and ablative cases. 100 THE USLVEliSAL IXSTBUCTOE. (1) The followiDg prepositions govern the accusative : — ad, to, at, for. adversum, ) against, adversus, ( towards, ante, before, apud, at, with, circa, around, about, circiter, about, circum, around, cis, citra, on this side, contra, against, oppo- site. erga, towards, extra, outside, infra, below, or be- neath. inter, betAveen, among, intra, within, juxta, near. Ob ,on account of, before, penes, in the power of. per, through, duriug, by. pone, behind, post, behind, after, • since. praeter, beyond, by, except, prope, near, propter, near, on ac- count of. secundum, following, after, according^to. supra, above, beyond, trans, beyond, on the other side oi versus, towards, ultra, beyond. (2) The following govern the ablative a, ab, abs, away from, by- absque, without, clam, without the knowledge of. coram, in the presence of. cum, with. de, down from, of, about. e, ex, out of, from, after. prae, before, in com- parison to, because of. pro, for, before, accord- ing to. sine, without. tenus, up to, as far as. (3) The following govern an accusative with verbs of motion, and an ablative Avith verbs denoting a state or condition : — in (with acc.), into, to, against; (with abl.), on. in. sub (with acc.), under, after, about ; (Avith abl.) under, about, near. super (AA’ith acc.), above, beyond, over; (Avith abl.), upon, about, subter (with acc. and sometimes with.abl.), under. Observation’. — is put after the pro-nouns me, fe, se, nobis, vobis, quo, qua, qtiibus, so as to coalesce with them ; as mecum, tecum, secum, nohiscum, vohiscum, quocum, qudcum, quihuscuyn — i.e., Avith me, with thee, with himself, with us, Avith you, Avith w'hom. Vevsms and tenus folloAv their case without coalescing : as Jtomam versus towards Borne ; collo temis, as far as the neck. Tenus also sometimes governs the genitive plural : as cruritm tenus, as far as the knees. Self-Examination Questions and Exercises. What is used for the English article in Latin? Decline hie, hcec, hoc, first in the masculine gender, next in the feminine, and next in the neuter gender ; that is, write out all the cases, singular and plural, of hie, vLich is its masculine, of licec, which is its feminine, and hoc, its neuter. What do you mean by a preposition, and say why it is so called ? What is the use of prepositions in the case of nouns ? What is their use in the case of verbs ? Do prepositions ever change when compounded with a A'^erb ? Give examples. Write out all the prepositions which govern the accusative, and give their English equivalents. Write out all the prepositions Avhich govern the ablative case, with English equivalents. Write out all the prepositions which govern both cases, with their different senses. What prepositions are sometimes placed after the noun they govern ? What do you mean by a preposition governing a case, or noun ? Exercises. Translate into English : — Huic, hac, horum, hujus, hanc, harum, ad hoc, propter hunc, ante hos, horum tenus, clam his, coram hoc, apud hanc, circiter hoc, infra hunc, inter hos, erga hunc, contra hos, circum banc, adversus has, juxta hoc, ob hunc, penes has, apud hos, per hoc, pone hanc, post hanc, l)raster hos, propter has, secundum haec, supra hoc, trans hunc, ultra hos,. ab hoc, absque his, cum hoc, de his, ex hoc, prm his, pro hoc, in hunc, in hoc, sub hac, sub hanc, super hos, super his, subter has, subter his. Translate into Latin ; — Of this, to this, these (neut. plur.), of these (fern.), by these, by this (fern.), by this (neut.). These (fern.), these (neut.). As far as this, against this, concerning these, before this, dowm from this, around these (fern.), towards this, outside these (fern.), below this (neut.), between these (neut.), within this (masc.), in the power of these (fern.), according to this (neut.), into this (neut.), in this (fern.), under these (neut.), upon these (fern.), without this (masc.), Avithin this (fern.), Avith’us, with you, with whom, towards Home, as far as the neck, up to these knees, around these (men), around these (women), close to or adjoining this (place — neut.). III. 3. Eelineation of the Surface of the Earth on Globes and MajJS. The nearest approach to correctness in de- lineating the surface of the earth is obviously obtained by the use of a sphere, , moving freely in a frame, fitted ° with a graduated circle representing the equator and another marked with the degrees of the parallels of latitude. But as it is absolutely necessary to have maps printed on a flat sur- face, a certain deviation from accuracy must be permitted, as it is of course impossible to make a plane correspond in measurement with a convex surface. A very familiar mode of representing the geographical features of the earth is by de- picting them on two circles, each ^ representing one side of the globe, and designated respectively the eastern and Avestern hemispheres ; but a more correct description would be, the world as known to the ancients, and the new, or American, world. This method is open to some slight objection on the ground that if the first meridian marked on the eastern hemisphere were that of Green- wich, from which in English maps degrees are counted, the distinction between east and west longitude would be more clearly expressed : but GEOGBAPHICAL featuees illusteated. 102 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR it represents so satisfactorily the leading features | of historical and political geography that it i is probably the most convenient form that ! could be adopted. j An ordinary form of map for portions of the earth’s surface is formed by what is known as . conical projection, in which the o7ma 8 globe depicted is fairly “ap*' represented in shape by a portion of an “ opened out ” cone, the apex of which is near the pole. The accompanying diagram represents this mode of construction for a map of Europe. PROJECTJOX FOJt A MAP OF EUROPE. The form of map known as Mercator’s chart, in which the meridians of longitude and paral- lels of latitude are drawn at ® right angles, is valuable in navi- ® gation, and is the only form of map which gives an unbroken view of the earth’s surface; but, except on the equatorial line, is uselers for purposes of measurement. The theory on which this chart is constructed is that of representing an opened out cylinder, the circumference of which is equal to that of the globe at the equator. A great dilatation obviously . results, the polar regions being of the same breadth as the equatorial ; but this is to some extent rectified by the degrees of latitude being made to increase proportionably to those of longitude. A map (Latin mappa, a napkin, or signal cloth) is a representation of land, or land and water together; a chart ^Latin charta, a sheet of paper) shows ® ■ coast or water surface only, with indications of rocks, currents, souhdings, light- houses, anchorage, and other matters important to navigation. A map or chart is accompanied by a scale, by which distances can be ascertained. They Scale of mUes. represent geographical and (in English maps) English statute miles. The geographical mile is the sixtieth part (one minute) of a degree of the equator, and is employed by mariners of all nations; but German geographers adopt a geographical mile which is the fifteenth part of a degree of the equator, or four times the length of the ordinary geographical mile. This leads to considerable confusion — some writers, apparently unaware of the distinction, being misled in estimating distances. The English statute mile is equal to 1760 yards, or 265 yards longer than a geographical mile, and is within a minute fraction the sixty-nintb part of a degree of the equator. EXERCISE V. Translate into French : — 1. Has the distiller any wine or beer ? He has alcohol. 2. The brother of my baker is a*** butcher. 3. The butcher’s wife is the godmother of the confectioner’s son. • 4. The jmrents have children, and the grandparents have grand- children. 5. We have oysters from the oyster- Avoman and fish from the fish-hawker (/. ) 6. Have you any cotfee'ia(at) the kitchen? 7. Some one has my bread and milk.f 8. Some have chocolate and pastry, and some have fruits and vegetables. 9. John, thou hast a shop ; thou art a * greengrocer. 10. Jane is at the (covered) market or my aunt's (at the house of my aunt). 11. Have the grocers chocolate and preserves? 12. Where are the miller and his wife (the miller’s wife) ? 13. They are at the tavern or at the cotfee-house, 14. At a wine- merchant’s one has wine, alcohol, and also beer. 15. My cousin’s foster-father is at the brewery. 16. A bar-keeper’s son marries (epouse) the pork-butcher’s daughter. 17. Where are we ? We are at the house of one of my uncles. 18. One of my aunts has the vegetables. 19. Hast thou papa’s fruits ? Yes, I have the fruits. 20. My mother is a corn-merchant's daughter, and my father is a chocolate manufacturer’s son. EXERCISE VI. Translate into English : — 1. Avant I’invention du pajuer, on ^crivait Before paper tcrote sur des tablettes enduites de cire, sur des 6corces upon tablets laid over with wax barks d'arbres, et sur des peaux. 2. L’histoire est le trees skins history portrait des hommes et des temps. 3. Pythagore men times Pythagoras croit que Dieu est une fime repanduedans tons believes that God soul diffused in all les etres de la nature, et dont les ames humaines beings in from which hniman sont tirdes. 4 . Les arts sont enfants des richesses drawn riches etde la douceur du gouvernement. 5. Voulez-vous mildness government do you wish Stre heureux une journee, portez un habit neuf ; happy for a day wear coat new une semaine, tuez un cochon ; un mois, gagnez week kill pig month gain * Do not translate a, because butcher and green- grocer are here used adjectivelv. t A ]=)08ses8ive adjective pronoun is, like the article, repeated before each noun of a series. BOTANY. 103 un proems; line ann^e, mariez-vous ; voulez-vous lawsuit year marry do you wish I’etre toute la vie, soyez honnete iiomme. so all be honest 6. Les bonnes femmes sont tontes an cimetiere. good all churchyard 7. Les maximes de la riocliefoucauld sont les maxims proverbes desgens d’esprit. 8. Les habitudes de proverbs clever people habits la vie publique en usage chez les peuples libres life public in use among nations free ont cet avantage, que la verity “ se fait jour ” this advantage that tndh pierces en depit des interets et des conventions in spite hiterests conventionalities qui conseilleraient de la cacher. which might advise to it hide. Translate into French : — 9. The history of the greatest princes is histoire (hmute) plus grands often the narrative of men’s errors (of the souvent ricit (m.) errors of men). 10. We are neither indebted fautes on r.e doit ni for the mariner’s compass to a sailor, nor for boussolef.) marin ni the telescope to an astronomer, nor for the telescope (m.) astronome magnifying-glass to a natural philosopher, nor microscope (m.) physicien for printing to a literary man. Most of these imprimerie (f .) homme de lettres. La plupart ces inventions are due to chance. 11. Study is dues hasard (m. h asp.) Hude (f.) advantageous to the mind ; adversity is useful avantageuse esprit (m.) adversiti (f.) utile to the soul ; experience is necessary to men. dme (f.) expiritnee (f.) n^cessaire 12. One saw generals raise a siege and lose a vit generaux lever siege (m.) perdre town in order to ohtaln (have) a relic. 13. ville (f.) pour relique (f) Jean-aux-Veaux pretended in the day-time to faisait semblant jour (m.) be afraid of a calf, and, at night, hie went and d’ avoir peur veau (m.) la nuit allait stole oxen. 14. Old Slarshall de Trivulz voler baeufs (m.) Le vieux marechal de Trivulz used to say, “ Three things arc required to disait II faut trois choses pour wage a successful war : money, more money, fairs' bietd guerre f.) argent (m.) encore and still more money.” 15. Danton’s famous toujours fameux apothegm, “ Audacity, more audacity, and apophthegme (m.) audace (f.) encore still more audacity,” is of a more recent date. toujours ^plus ^ricente ^date (f.) 16. A great number of nations have a favourite grand nombre (m.) peuples * ^favori dish ; one knows the cress of the ancient ^mets{ax.) connait cresson (m.) anciens Persians, the “ rice and roast lamb ” of the Arabs ; Perses couscoussou (m.) Arabes the. swallows’ nests of the Chinese ; the caviar ^ d’hirondelles ' nids {m.) Chinois (m.) of the Kussians, the plum-pudding of the Russes (m.) English, the olla-podrida of the Spaniards, the Anglais (f.) Espagnols sauerkraut of the Germans, the oil-and-garlic- choucroute {i.) Allemands bouillabaisse {f.) soup of the Marseillais. Let us not forget the n oublions pas black broth of the Spartans. ^noir^hrouet (m.) Spartiates * Use no article here. IV. The Root and the Stem. The root and the stem have many points of resemblance. Each consists of a main trunk from which proceed lateral branches, dividing and g,ub- dividing into “rootlets” in the of stems, one, into “ twigs ” in the other ; and each, when full-grown, consists of an interior woody portion and an integument, excepting that the latter is wanting in Palm-trees and a few other plants in which true bark has its place taken by an indurated crust. The essen- tial differences between them are told quite as soon. Stems consist of a succession of distinct lengths separated by joints called “ nodes,” the intervening spaces being the “internodes.” The nodes are usually at regular diminishing or increasing distances from one another; the inter- nodes are consequently successively shorter or longer. A very pretty and intelligible illustration of this is supplied by the stem of the common Stitchwort, Stellarki Ilolostea, which may be' so readily broken up into pieces, the separations taking place at the nodes, that among the many rustic names for the plant are “ snap-stalks ” and “ break-bones. ” At every node there is a leaf, or an imperfect leaf of the kind called a “ scale ” ; or there may be two leaves, or even from three up to no. 17. thorns of rose, as many as eight or nine, ^ pj^ce of thorn tom. as in the sweet woodntff. off. The inner angle between Base of the thorn, the base of the leaf and the stem is termed the “ axil,” and in this there I is usually a bud capable of elongating into a twig, which in turn produces other leaves with a new generation of buds ; the result, after a few years’ growth, being the beautiful composite ramification which is seen in its perfect form in the head of a tree. The plan of development is thus one which, if carried out to its full extent, would ensure absolute symmetry ; but it is scarcely ever effectuated in actual life, very many of the buds being abortive or getting destroyed. Were the whole of them to develop into twigs, these in turn becoming branches, it is obvious that they would so entangle and interlace, that in a little while there would be no room left, and the entire mass would be self-stifled. Nature, no less admirable in her expedients and economy than in her inventive- I ness and munificence, anticipates and guards 104 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. against this disaster by the suppression, tbirough one agency or another, of the super- fluity of buds, leaving just enough to engender in the full-grown plant its own peculiar and characteristic physiognomy. Even when de- nuded of their foliage by the cold of winter, how exquisitely diverse the profile and con- figuration of trees ! It is then indeed that their architecture is most plainly disclosed, and that the inmost principles of the construc- tive beauty of the tree are made apparent, just as when it was required of Paris on Mount Ida to say which of the trio was comelicst, “ The rival goddesses the veil divine Cast uiicoiifined and gave him all their charms.” This, again, makes it evident why trees should be studied in the depth of winter quite as energetically as in summer, if we would learn them accu- rately. Botany, we are reassured by the same con- sideration, is not a pastime simply for the season of flowers, but one which runs abreast of all the days of the changing year, and which even death and decay supply with oppor- tunities. Boots, on the other hand, arc destitute of articu- lations. Hence they have no inter- nodes, no regularly increasing or di- minishing lengths, no leaves, and no buds. No provision is made for any regular or symme- trical ramification. The rootlets strike out, as it were, capriciously, as may easily be ob- served in a radish. They divide and subdivide as occasion reqiiires, and the final Gener^ charac- is an amorphous mass of ero roo s. older or parental ones more or less thickened. In forest trees the thickening is often considerable, as may be observed when following some well-beaten and shaded footpath through a park, where the great subterranean parts of the tree have had their covering of earth worn away. The roots of certain kinds of trees possess the power, how- ever, of developing, under special cb'cumstances, adventitious ” buds, well exemplified in those of old willows. As regar-ds the interior struc- ture, it is important to note that in the great di- vision of flowering plants called Exogens, though there is a central column or thread of pith in tlie stem, in the root there is no pith. Stems, ft may be added, are often hollow, as is well illustrated in straws, but roots are alwavs solid. FIG. 18 .— BR The primitive, fundamental, and typical form of a root is that of a simple fibre, more or less branched, and more or less en- larged. In many plants, however, there are produced also great fleshy tubercles or fangs, as in the dahlia, a very interesting miniature of which is found in the common Pilewort, the innumerable little golden wild-flower with the heart-shaped leaf, which accompanies the early primrose and wood-anemone. Best on this a moment. How seldom we have to go out of Old England for an illustration of a fact in botany 1 Old England is a picture in little of the whole world ; its simple wild-flowers teach us every- thing ; the rarest and costliest exotic can do no more than they do. Very curious and in- teresting examples of tubers and tuberculate roots are likewise supplied by the two drop- worts, (Enantlie croeata and Spircea Eilipendnla. The roots of a plant are very frequently also the store- houses of the par- ticular secretion or product in the manufacture of which it employs itself. It is from the root, for ex- ample, that the invaluable dye called madder is procured. So with the roots of the Turnip, the Carrot, the Parsnip, Horse- radish, and many others quite familiar. The Stem, the next part in order, is a delightful sub- ject for study. It is this which in- .vxen OF EI.M. troduces us to the aerial life of the plant; it is to this that we are indebted for the Stems either lifting up of leaf and flower to tr^^heT an agreeable height above the level of the ground, advancing each, as it were more directly into our presence ; and in the case of the trees, again the inestimable trees, rearing their crowns on high, so that our eyes may be constantly invited upwards. Being provided, as above described, with nodes and buds, as a rule the stem branches out in every direction. This, at least, is the case with the exogenous class of flowering plants — those which have distinct bark, wood, and pith — though even here there are exceptions, as in the case of the papaw-tree of the West Indies, a miniature image of which is found in the wdld English Trientalis. There is a large family, however, comprising the great majority of the Palm-trees, and other BOTANY. 106 “e.ndogenous” flowering plants, in which, as a rule, there is never produced more than one bui^, which is terminal, or at the apex of the stem. These accordingly (the single-budded) are incapable of branching, and the tall slim shafts, so conspicuous, in the case of the palms, in tropical scenery, are as naked from base to summit as the columns of a Greek portico. The bud being terminal, of course the leaves are the same. In the palms they are always of prodigious size ; and compensate, in their magnitude, in the grandeur of their place and personal carriage, and in their perennial ver- ^ dure, the want of the ramification and the umbrageousness which, taken to- gether, give the glory to the Exo- gen. When, in Scripture and else- where, “ branches of palm-trees” are spoken of, it is by accommodation of the language to the appearance of things to the popu- lar eye, since only the botanist would perceive that these huge leaves are leaves mnly, and not branches ; cer- tified therein, most particularly, by the absence of buds from the axils of their many leaflets. Stems perfectly branchless are said to be “ simple.” When stems are too slender and weak to stand erect, they either trail upon the ground, and then usually take root at the nodes, as in the strawberry, or else they prac- tise the skilful art of climbing. How this is effected by the ivy has already been mentioned. Some, as we shall see presently, have artificial help; the heau-ideal is exemplified by the twiners. What is more beautiful than the green spiral of the common Scarlet Bean; the ever-curling ingenuity of the Woodbine ; the ascent, round and round, like an in- verted ringlet, of the Convolvulus ? So won- derful and engaging are the phenomena of the life of the climbing stems, that Mr. Darwin has devoted an entire book to them. Some of the twiners curl from right to left ; others turn from left to right. Formerly it was thought that these contrary methods belonged respect- ively to the northern and southern hemispheres. ^Forms of steins. FIG. 19. — GROUP OP LEAVES Now it is known not to be so, and the enigma of their life is deepened. Ah, how much there is in botany still awaiting intelligent scrutiny ! Well might Isis conclude her legend vnth “ No man hath lifted my veil.” Stems which climb through extraneous aid do so by means of ten- drils or of hooks, organs pertaining properly to the leaves and flower-stalks, as will be men- tioned by-and-by. How singularly diversified, again, the forms of stems ! The typical shape would seem to be the cylindrical, well illus- trated in many species of the^ great family to which the hemlock and the wild angelica be- long, also in canes and in the stems of the Corn-plants, such as Wheat. But sometimes the stem is flattened edgeways, as in the grass called Poa compressa ; or it is mathemati- cally triangular, as in many i^edges, common plants of the pond sides ; or it is absolutely square, as in most of the Labiatge. Now and then it is dilated in such a way as to have a thin green wing along each side : this happens in the everlasting pea. The stem is sub- ject also, more or less, in common wnth the leaves, to be clothed with hair, down, velvet, or vegetable wool ; and quite as often presents the oppo- site extreme, the surface becoming sleek and smooth as satin, and not infrequently po- lished and lustrous. The hairs, as in roses, sometimes acquire formidable size and strength, then re- ceiving the name of prickles. They are known to be nothing more than hairs by their readily breaking away at the base from the surface on which they stand, this declaring them to be like ordinary hairs, simple outgrowths of the cellular substance of the cuticle. Stems are prone to be armed, not only with prickles, but in other cases with a weapon of still severer nature. This is the spine, well illus- trated in the common Hawthorn, the Sloe or Blackthorn, and the Eestharrow — that lovely wild pea-flower 'which opens and closes its rosy petals with every change of the sky. 106 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Spines are totally distinct from prickles. While Nature interdicts excessive development of buds, she also places a check upon the elongation of twigs. The lateral branchlets, in the plants named, are arrested in their onward growth : they were able to have pro- ceeded indefinitely, but Na- ture says. Stop, and they cease in a hard sharp point. A “ spine” may thus always be distinguished from a prickle by its terminating fig.20. FIBHOU3 uooT. a shoot, or twig, or being in an axil, and by being organically united to the woody substance within. In the hawthorn we have the con- stant spectacle of minute leaves upon the spines, little atoms full, as it were, of faith and expectation, but doomed to progress no further. Stings, such as those of the nettle and the Loasa, also belong both to stem and leaf, though found m chief abundance upon FIG. 21.— TUBEEOTJS BOOT. the former, and therefore referable to it more particularly than to the latter. Stings are hairs no longer simply cellular, but organized in such a way that, after puncturing the skin, they can inject a drop of venomous juice, thus resembling the poison-fangs of certain kinds of serpents, to which creatures nettles bear a more than purely fanciful analogy. Of the nettle, we have commonly wild in England two very distinct species, called respectively Urtica dioica, and Urtica nrens. The former is the ordinary nettle, attaining a stature of three or four feet ; the urcns is considerably smaller, and of a brighter green, and the clusters of flowers are partly concealed among the foliage. The stings are much more venomous than those of the dioica, whence the specific name, which signifies “ burning.” The Loasas are little annuals from the warm parts of America, with curious star-like flowers, which are either yellow or red, and which would recommend them for garden decoration, were it not for the stings. § 19. How the kinship of languages is found. § 20. Families of speech. § 21. Indo-European family. § 22. Asiatic branch. I 23. European branch. § 21. Teutonic group : Low-German tongues. § 25. Scandinavian tongues. § 26. High-German tongues. § 27. Recapitulation : Table of languages. § 19. It is found by means of comparative grammar that the relationship of languages can be traced on two grounds : 1. Whan the grammatical inflexions (or shapes taken by words under different circumstances) are closely alike ; 2. When there is a general agreement in the words that represent ideas common to all men in all times, such as near relationship, — e.g., father, brother, mother, daughter ; nu- merals, one, two, three, etc. Grammatical structure, and the Roots of home words, are then the principal parts of languages, on the comparative study of which their kinship or non-kinship is recognized. § 20. The languages of the world belong to four or five great families or stocks. Of these the Indo-European or Aryan is the one which concerns us : the Semitic, comprehending Assyrian, Hebrew, and Arabic ; the Hamitic, embracing ancient Egyptian and Hottentot; the Dravidian, including Japanese, languages of north-east Asia, the Caucasian dialects, and others not entirely defined, have little or no bearing upon English. §21. Long ago, in the regions of central Asia, in the highlands north of the Himalaya mountains, there must have dwelt a people speaking one language, and having attained a considerable degree of civilization, of whom there is no history nor any written record; whose only monument lies, not in their own language, but in the languages of their de- scendants. “ It can be proved by the evidence of language,” says Max Muller, “that before their separation the Aryans led the life of agricultural nomads — a life such as Tacitus describes that of the ancient Germans. They knew the arts of ploughing, of making roads, of building ships, of weaving and sewing, of erecting houses ; they had counted at least as far as one hundred. They had domesticated the most important animals — the cow, the horse, the sheep, the dog ; they were acquainted with the most useful metals, and armed with hatchets, whether for peaceful or warlike pur- poses. They had recognised the bonds of blood and the laws of marriage ; they followed their leaders and kings ; and the distinction between right and wrong was fixed by customs and laws. They were impressed with the idea of a Divine Being, and they invoked it by various names.” There came a time — perhaps more than three thousand years ago — when these people left their country and separated different ways. A race of probably several tribes, extending ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 107 over a large tract of country, it is believed that they had dialects and varieties in their speech while still among their ancient valleys, and that the increase and fixing of these sounds, under the influence of new modes of life, led to the growth of dialects into distinct languages. This is the people to whom Francis Bopp gave the name of Indo-European, Max Miiller the name of Aryan : Indo-European, because, as we shall see, they branched oft’ into Asia and Europe ; Aryan, from Arya, a national name meaning Tionourahle, nolle. They called them- selves the Aryans, the noble, in distinction to their neighbours whom they did not know, and therefore despised. § 22. The Aryans diverged in two great branches. One of these remained in Asia and crossed the Himalayas ; again parting into two chief companies, one stock settled in Hindustan, where, among the ancient Hindus, Sanskrit had its home ; the second in Persia, where the Zend tongue arose, the tongue of the old fire-worshippers. In course of time those tribes spread over India and Ceylon, Afghanistan, Persia, and Armenia. This is called the Asiatic branch ; it comprehends all the Indian languages which have sprung from the Sanskrit and the Persian. § 23. The other great tribes, of the second branch, travelled westward, at different times ; some after others., It is as though each suc- ceeding wave of migration conquered the preceding settlers, or pushed them farther west. Six great tribes are distinguished in this European branch. {a) The first who came were the Kelts ; they settled in various parts of Spain, Italy, Germany, Gaul, and the British Isles. We find them in two main classes — the Cymric and the Gaedhelic ; the languages belonging to one or the other are still spoken in the west of Ireland, the Scottish Highlands, Wales, the Isle of Man, and Brittany. Cornish was a Cymric dialect. {1) The Italic — often called the Romanic — tribes, passing through Wallachia and Moldavia, left a portion to carry on their language there in after times, and coming to Italy drove out the Kelts. The languages of these tribes are also grouped in two classes : to thejirst belong Latin and the old Italian tongues ; to the second those languages which have descended from the Latin dialects, called under the general name of the Romance languages. They are seven — Italian, French, Provencal, Spanish, Portuguese, Roumansch (spoken in southern Switzerland), and Wallachian. (c) The Hellenic or Grecian tribes settled in the peninsula of Greece. Many dialects of their wonderful language, both ancient and modern, remain to us as monuments of their after history. The Albanian language is be- lieved to be a cousin of the ancient Greek. (rZ) The Teutons followed the Kelts in the centre and north of Europe ; they planted themselves in Germany and Scandinavia. The languages whi(fii we have from their tribes are divided into three classes ; Lom- Germa n (spoken formerly in the flat lands lying on the shores of the Baltic, and of the North Sea between Denmark and Belgium), Scandinavian, and Hiyh- German (spoken at first in the high lands of central Germany). We will return to this group in the next section. (e) The Slaves or Slavonic tribes swelled the last great wave of migration ; they fixed their settlements on the great plains in the east of Europe, Russia, and Poland ; others gradually spread over Bulgaria, Servia, Croatia, and Bohemia. (/) With the Slavonian tribes it is supposed came the Lithuanian or Lettic peoples, who settled in Lithuania, Livonia, and north-east Prussia. They are sometimes grouped with the Slavonians. Nearly all the languages, ancient and modern, of Europe are thus taken into account by the Indo-European family ; there are, however, a few which do not belong to it — namely, the Turkish, Hungarian, Basque, Finnish, Lappish, and Esthonian. § 21. Each of these broad groups divides itself again, as we have seen, into classes marked by different degrees of kinship. The Teutonic group, to which English belongs, must be now examined a little more closely. The name Teutonic was given to the group from the Teutones, an early tribe of the Germans ; it originates in an Old High-German word signifying people, national: the Teutons were the people, distinguishing themselves from the foreigner. The Germans at the present day call themselves Leutsch (the same word as Dutch), which comes from the same root. It is worth notice that the names which ancient nations gave themselves were frequently names of honour ; those which they gave to foreigners expressed contempt, — they did not understand them. So, while the Aryajis, the Teutons, and the Slaves (from Slave, meaning renoivri), all were known by honourable appellations, others got such names as Rarharian, meaning un- intelligible, or Welsh, which meant a stranger ; hence both signified “ foreign.” The Teutonic group is marked off by three principal divi- sions ; — I. The Low-German, comprising— 1. Gothic. 2. Old Saxon (not Anglo-Saxon). 3. English and Lowland Scotch. 4. Frisian. 6. Dutch. 6. Flemish. II. The Scandinavian, comprising — 1. Icelandic. 2. Swedish. 3. Danish. 4. Norwegian. III. The High-German, comprising three stages — 1. Old High-German. 2. Middle High-German. 3. Modern High-German. It must be remembered that, in arranging these classifications, languages of all dates are included for the sake of their affinities, but it does not follow that all are or were existing as spoken tongues at the same time. In the 108 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. present group the Gothic and the Old Saxon are now dmd languages. I. Low-German. — Gothic, once spoken by the Goths in Dacia, has left us the oldest book of any in Teutonic literature — a translation of the Gospels, made in the fourth century by Bishop Ulphilas, and the fragments of a calendar ; yet though these are all the remains of what was once a living language (for the Gothic appears not to have given rise to any modern tongue), they are most valuable to scholars in helping to work out the connection of more modern languages in the group — such as English and German. More modern, remark ; time, in speaking of languages, is relative. Old Saxon . — This was the Saxon of the Con- tinent, and was spoken in the districts of Essen, Mlinster, and Cleves, between the Rhine and the Elbe. A poem called the IleUand, a version of the life of our Saviour, written in the ninth century, still exists in this language. English . — Our language, thus standing among^ its kindred, naturally embraces some varieties, the first of which may be taken as Old English (often spoken of as Anglo-Saxon), which has branched off into Londand Scotch, Modern English or the cultivated language, and the Provincial English of local dialects. Frisian . — Of this, which is the nearest to English of any of the Teutonic languages, we have Old Frisian and Modern (see before, § 18). The following short list of Old Frisian words will show how closely some of them run with English : — Old Frisian. English. hervst, harvst harvest halt halt half half hors horse rida ride song, sang song fridom freedom thenne then thiaf, tief thief this, dis this wif wife werka work wet wet weter, water water field field Dutch and Flemish . — These two are both known in an old form and in a modern. § 25. II. Scandinavian. — The Icelandic, among the Scandinavian languages, is the oldest and purest ; that is, it has retained the forms and words of the early tongue, unaffected by the modifications or development which its sister languages have undergone on the Conti- nent. Iceland was colonized from Norway in the ninth century. Its people, in their remote corner of the world, cultivated a noble litera- ture, which they left to their descendants, who now speak the same language but little changed from its older form. Norse, or Old Norse (terms sometimes employed in an indefi- nite manner) rightly belong to Old Norwegian, not to Icelandic. Two peculiarities mark the Scandinavian languages from the rest of the Teutonic group, wliich are interesting to note ; one of them bears upon some of our own words ; — 1. The definite article {en or et, or the word which answers to our English the), is placed after its noun, and joins with it in one word. Thus the Danish has hong's.^ (kong-en), the king; /(y>rifET (hjert-et), the heart; the Swedish, lionungK^ (konung-cn), the king ; hordKY (bord-et), the table. In Old Norse, fatiT, the foot. 2. The word which stands in these languages for the English self, a reflexive pronoun, as in 1 ivarm myself, is joined to the verb, added on to the end; thus (Old Norse), /aZZa, to fall down, having sih — self, added, makes at f allash, to drop oneself down. “ In English we have borrowed at least two of these reflexive verbs : namely, hn-sh, from the Icelandic hu-a, to prepare, make ready, direct one’s course; and la-sk { = hah-sh), from the Icelandic lah-a to warm, which is identical with the English lahe.'" — IMorris. I hash in the S 2 m — that is, I bake or warm myself ; here the verb preserves its exact meaning ; in the word hash (usually known in poetry) we have lost the complete sense of the original, and require another word to finish it, as in the lines, “And gather flowers to hvsk your brow; ” “0 hush ye, 0 busk ye, my bonny, bonny bride.” § 26. High-German. — The Old High-German means the dialects which were spoken in different parts of South or Upper Geianany (Bavarian, Swiss, and others) till the middle of the eleventh century. Middle High-Gei-man was spoken in Upper Germany till the end of the fifteenth century. Modern High-German succeeded; it is the language of literature, and of the cultivated classes of all German people at the present day. All the High-German languages are distinctly marked from those in the Low-German and Scandinavian divisions by regular interchanges of sound, which have become recognized as features peculiar to the members of this division. § 27. We are now in a position to answer the question in § 18. English has not been derived from German, nor from Frisian or Flemish, but it stands in relafion to these last as a sister, to the German as a cousin ; all own one common origin in the Teutonic stock; while, making a remove further back, this stock sprang from the same source that gave birth to five other branches of the great Indo-European family. Finally, these six European sons meet, in ages far back, their ancient cousins of the Asiatic branch on the heights of Central Asia. The facts may be usefully tabulated in the following form. How English arose from its histol’ical beginning we shall now proceed to discuss. Table of Indo-European Languages. (gw' /I. Sanskrit (dead) pi 2. Hindu, Hindustani, Bengali, ^ \ Win /In I Mahratti (descended from K Hindu ^ Sanskrit) ^ < 3. Cingalese (Ceylon) w '4. Gypsy dialect ^ / Iranian or(^‘ Zend, the old language of “ ( PevRiaTi 1 Persia ^ V ■Persian ( 2. Persian ASTRONOMY. 109 r Keltic Italic, or Romanic o !a Hellenic, or Grecian Teutonic Slavonic Lettic V '1. Bas Breton, or Armorican (Brittany) Welsh Erse, or Irish Gaelic, or Highland Scotch Manx (Isle of Man) Latin (dead) and old Italian dialects of North and South Italy The Romance* languages sprung from the Latin — (a), Italian; (i), French ; (c), Provengal; {d), Spanish ; (e), Portuguese ; (/), Rou- mansch ; (y), Wallachian Ancient Greek (dead), with various dialects Modei’n Greek Low German — (o), Gothic ; (b), Old Saxon ; (c), English ; (d), Frisian ; (c), Dutch ; (/), Flemish *S candinavian — (a), Icelandic ; (b), Swedist ; (e), Danish; (a), Norwe- gian High-German — (a), Old; (b), Middle; (c), Modern High-German Russian Bulgarian Illyric Polish Bohemian Old Prussian (dead) Lettish (Livonia) Lithuanian. (We herein follow as far as practicable the lines marked out by Dr. Eichard Moms, to whom the science of modern English grammar is under great obligations.) IV. For many years these discoveries of Hip- parchus enabled astronomers to predict the great majority of solar eclipses ; but they found that the hour at which they occurred seemed exposed to some systematic error. Two hundred and fifty years elapsed before the cause of this was discovered by the famous Ptolemy, a Grecian astronomer, and a worthy successor to Hipparchus (A.D. 100 — 170). He found that there was still another inequality in the motion of the moon, by which the moon was sometimes in advance and sometimes behind the place assigned to it by the two tables of Hipparchus, by as much as three times its own diameter. This new inequality was sub- sequently called the evection. Careful study showed him how this new inequality acted, and he was enabled to construct a third table which gave him the correction it was necessary to apply to the two tables of Hipparchus in order to obtain the true place of the moon in the heavens. These discoveries enabled astronomers to * The term Romance, originally applied to the Pro- vengal, the Latin language of that part of Languedoc conquered and civilized by the Romans ; the Roman province has been extended to the other languages derived from a kindred source. satisfactoriJy predict the eclipses of the sun and to fix the time of new and full moon, which was then a I*rediction of matter of considerable import- eclipses, ance; and the tables seemed to very satisfac- torily represent the place of the moon. Towards the end of the sixteenth centuiy Tycho Brahe discovered two other still smaller inequalities in the motion of the moon, and so rendered the tables still more accurate, though raising their number to five. These two new in- equalities were subsequently called the variation and annual equation. It was discovered by Tycho Brah6 that the moon was not always at the same distance from the earth, because he found that at times it appeared larger than at others, showing that it must be nearer to the earth. He also found that when the moon seemed to be moving fastest it then appeared to be largest, and was therefore nearest to the earth. A most important dis- covery, as later on will be seen. A principal_ point to which astronomers had to devote their attention was to ascertain the distance of the moon from the earth. The first to accomplish distance of the this with accuracy was the cele- “loon- brated astronomer Hipparchus, who fixed its distance as fifty-nine times the radius of the earth ; and Ptolemy, his successor, made it slightly greater. Tycho Brahe determined the mean distance of the moon to be rather over sixty times the radius of the earth. The method by which these astronomers found the distance of the moon was by ascer- taining what is called ihQqmral- lax of the moon, or the apparent ^^.rallax. alteration in its position when it is looked at from a different position in space. This is shown by Fig. 9, where E is the earth and M the moon. Suppose the moon is observed at early morning when it rises, the observer will be at e, and the moon will be seen in the direc- tion m' . As the earth rotates in the direction shown by the arrow, the time will arrive when the moon is about to set, and the observer will be at e" ; then the place of the moon will be at m", or as much to the west of its true place m as in the morning it was east. This apparent change is called the moon’s parallax. If we know this parallax or angular displacement EMe', it is easy to draw the triangle me/, and measure the proportion of E m to e e' ; and in this way, from knowing the parallax, we can tell how many times the radius of the earth E e' is equal to the distance of the moon M e. In practice it is not necessary to construct this triangle, but by means of trigonometry the distance can be calculated at once. We know now that the mean distance of the moon is equal to 60'27 times the radius of the earth ; so we see that Tycho Brahe’s determination was not far out. Tycho Brahe undertook to measure the exact diameter of the moon as it appears to us, and he found that when the moon was at its mean distance its diameter was equal to 31. It was then size of moon, easy to find out its exact size, for trigonometry teaches us that a round object 110 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. seen from a distance sixty times its own dia- meter will appear to have a diameter of 57^'. The moon is distant from the earth by sixty times the earth’s radius ; and therefore, if the moon were as large in diameter as the earth’s radius it would appear to be hiy in diameter. It is, however, only 31' in diameter, so that it must be correspondingly smaller than the radius of the earth. As 31 is nearly five-ninths of 57|, so the diameter of the moon is only five-ninths of the radius of the earth. The diameter of the moon is therefore only a little more than one-quarter of the diameter of the earth, so that by geometry its surface is only about one-thirteenth, and its volume one-fiftieth. The moon is therefore much smaller than the earth. By the beginning of the seventeenth century. farther than the earth from the sun — appeared like bright stars, and their motion in the heavens was studied with ease by noticing how they changed their place among the stars. It was soon found that each of these planets moved in a fixed path in the heavens in the same way as the sun, and inclined at a very small angle to the path of the sun. This path or orbit crossed the ecliptic at a fixed position, and not, as in the case of the moon, a position which slowly moved. 'It was easy for them to determine the time which it took these planets to move once round the sun, or make a complete circuit of the heavens. They found their periods to be as under : — Mars, 1 year 321 days 23 hours 30 minutes. Jupiter, 11 years 317 days 14 hours 2 minutes. Saturn, 29 years 174 days 5 hours 16 minutes. it will thus be seen that astronomers had learned a good deal about the motion and size of our satellite. Astronomers had known for a very long period that the moon was liable to be eclipsed or become so faint that it nearly Lunar echpses. quite disappears. The moon may be shining brightly in the heavens, when it will be noticed that a small portion of its surface looks orange and dusky, as if it were covered with a thin cloud. Gradually this cloudy portion or spot seems to encroach on the disc, as if there were slowly moving across it a round, dusky disc, darkest near the centre, and several times the diameter of the moon. Soon the whole disc of the moon is covered with this dusky shade, so that it becomes so dull that it is often very diffi- cult to detect it, and when seen it looks like a dull greenish orange disc. Suddenly a brighter gleam is seen on the side where the dusky veil was first seen, and soon this portion of the moon bursts forth with its usual lustre and the dusky shade moves gradually off the moon until it quite disappears, and our satellite shines forth with its usual brilliance. This phenomenon is called a total eclipse of the moon. Sometimes the whole moon does not disappear, and a partial eclipse of the moon occurs. It was soon discovered that these eclipses only occurred near full moon, when the earth was between the sun and moon, so that the moon must be near the shadow cast by the earth. This connection at once served to explain the phenomenon : the moon was eclipsed by passing through the shadow of the earth. It remains to be considered what was known of the planets by astronomers at the end of the sixteenth century. The three su- The planets, pgrior planets. Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn — called superior because they were III. The manner of holding the pen next demands our attention. Fingers differ, and so do methods of holding the pen. On a preceding page (p. 60) we showed a way adopted by many writers. We here add another and in our opinion the preferable manner. The paper should be placed immediately in front of the right arm, parallel with the edge of the desk, and in such position that the commencement of the lines is opposite the right eye, and steadied by the fingers of the left hand.' The pen should., ,, be held in such manner that the tip of the nib is about three- “E P'"' quarters of an inch from the end of the middle finger — a little more or a little less according to the shape of the writer’s fingers and hand — the penholder making meanwhile an angle of about forty- five degrees with the surface of the paper, and leaving the forefinger a little in front of the knuckle, as shown in our illus- tration. This matter is of importance, for if the pen be allowed to fall hehind the knuckle, and the angle which the holder should make be in consequence reduced, a loss of power and freedom in the manipulation of the pen will instantly ensue. The pen must be lightly held between the thumb and first and second fingers, as shown, with both sides of the nib bearing equally upon the paper. It must pass close to the nail of the middle finger, but not rest on the nail, and be held by the central fleshy part of the forefinger and thumb. Care must be taken that the upper part of the pen, or holder, does not swerve either to the right or the left of the nib, but points to the right ear, PENMANSHIP. Ill in order to secure which the forefinger knuckle must be directed upwards towards the ceiling. The thumb should be bent outward, as shown in the illustration, until the end of the fleshy part closes upon the pen opposite the lower joint of the forefinger. The third and fourth fingers must be curved inward, so that they come rather less than midway between the tips of the other fingers and the palm of the hand. The extremity of the little finger only must rest on the paper sufficiently to guide the hand along : in fact, the more lightly the hand rests upon it the greater freedom will be acquired. The third finger, which is simply passive, must be incurved to some degree in such manner that it crosses the little finger as indicated in the sketch of a hand. It is necessary to bear in mind that the whole hand should be turned well over to the left, as it rests upon the fulcrum of the fourth finger in such a position that the nail of the second finger should be visible. This will bring the knuckles of the thumb and little finger respectively to about the same distance from the paper, perhaps about an inch and a half, and ensure a position most condu- cive alike to ease, expedition, and elegance. The move- ments of the hands in execut- ing writing may be considered as threefold. There are : First, the movement of the thumb and fingers singly ; secondly, that of the fingers and hand com- bined ; and, in the third place, the last specified motion, with a simultaneous movement of the arm superadded. The first two are the only necessary motions in the practice of initiatory exercises and formal writing. The last is brought in for the free cursive style of commercial and the hand, ordinary requirements. Not that the movement of the arm in any respect antagonizes that of the fingers. Far from it. The more rapid the writing the greater the necessity that the whole formation of the letters should be achieved by the two end- joints of the first and middle fingers and the top joint of the thumb, and by these joints alone — never by the action of the arm or fore- arm. It is evident that the small joints can move with much more ease and rapidity than the larger ones of the wrist or elbow, and very quick writing is only possible on these con- ditions. As Foster says : “ The free play of the fingers and thumb produces a slight motion of the hand, which moves in a Importance of iiorizontal direction from left to thesmaUjomts.yjg^^^ across the paper.” There have been teachers, however, who have not only inculcated the ridiculous notion that the joints should be kept stiff, and the motions come from the wrist, but have pushed the idea of gaining freedom to the extent of requiring that all movements s rould come from the elbow or even shoulder I The result of requiring large joints, fitted only for slower movements, to take the place of alert and active members like the end-joints of our fingers, is an un- sightly angular scrawl, such as is too often taught to adults in an infinitely small number of lessons. And here, in this connection, may be the best place to say to those who may propose to follow our course of lessons a few words as to the labour requisite to attain good hand- writing. There are few things in which the old Latin saw “ Festina lente” — “make haste slowly” — has a more forcible application than in learning penmanship. It is not a mere question of imitating Only certain certain forms presented on a of copy-slip. That can be done by e^^nung. piecemeal patching ; and indeed is often so done in copy-books of the present day. But this is painting ; not writing. The man or boy who lifts his pen at every letter, or several times in a word, is not a writer at all. The scope, therefore, of the assiduous practice which mvst be gone through is not so much to enable us to copy certain forms, as to gain that correct po- sition of hand, conjoined with requisite supple- ness and play of the end finger joints, which will enable us to copy amj form or write any hand as writing — that is to say, fluently, rapidly, and without fatigue. The latter is a most im- portant consideration to those who have to follow penmanship as a livelihood. Writing pursued on proper principles is not an unhealthy or exhaustive occupation ; but there are ladies who cannot write a couple of long epistles without a nervous headache, and clerks who suffer martyrdom over the pages of ledger or day-book as the slow hours drag on, merely because they do the work in an improper way. It is a matter of considerable importance to ascertain with correctness what are the funda- mental elements which go to form any par- ticular style of handwriting. The old writing- masters laid great stress upon the proper comprehension of these elementary forms, or “ breaks,” as they termed them. Much differ- ence of opinion exists, and has existed, between English and Continental authorities upon this matter. For example, in one celebrated method which somewhat resembles the plan adopted by Pestalozzi, the elementary forms or component parts of the letters are reduced to four, which HOLDIITG THE PEH. 112 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, are 1. The right line ; 2. The curved line ; 3. The loop ; 4. The crotchet. It Analysis of ^ot, however, appear that elementary method has sufficient advant- orms. ages to cause it to supersede the ordinary classification which is shown in our illustration of Elementary Forms, and may be thus briefiy described : — riG. 2 . ELEMENTARY EOEMS. A is a simple diagonal line, ending squarely at top and bottom, and preserving an in- variable breadth throughout. The best angle for this stroke, which of course determines also the inclination of all the other elementary forms, would appear to be about fifty-three degrees. Whatever angle is taught Rudim^tary youth, it would seem that when strokes. schoolboy makes the great change from “ copper-plate ” hand to whatever cursive mode his individuality prescribes, the inclination or slant may vary considerably. Still it is advisable to fix upon a degree of slope which is not excessive, for several reasons. In the first place the highest degree of legibility is secured by a hand not too much sloped. This is evident from the fact that Eoman printed letters are more easy to read than Italic. If the reader will consider the three dif- ferent angles employed at A, B, c, D in our illustration (fig. 3) representing degrees of incli- nation, he will see CAddence that an excessively slanting hand is more difficult to read than One which differs less from the upright. It is also clear that the slanting hand should be 'written very wide if it is desired to be legible. This is shown by the fourth example, D, which is more easily read than the third, c, but is sprawling and occupies unnecessary room. The writer’s hand has to cover ^e^ees of greater space to produce it, and the reader’s eye is similarly tasked. This is shown more clearly at E, where an upright line and three at different degrees of inclina- tion are given. It is here plain that the lines or letters with great inclination become very long and less distinct, even where the distances between the several portions of each letter are kept equal, as at F. The right line stroke, (A, fig. 2) is the founda- tion of h, It, p, and g. In the next form (b, fig. 2) we have a right line, square at the top, and of the same thickness throughout, until at the curve it gradually tapers off and terminates with an A /mO YYi^ntoiiA B inxmiemtmfA EIG. 3 . — DEGREES OF INCLINATION- upward hair-stroke. This is the form ordinarily termed a “ pot-hook,” and is the essential element of i, u, t, I, the Curved last portion of the a and the d ; and with the addition of the curve or crotchet, the letters h and w. c is precisely the reverse of B, commencing with the curved hair stroke, then forming the equal right line, and ter- minating squarely at the bottom. This ele- ment is the first portion of n, w, and r ; and the first and second parts of m. In d we get, in fact, a combination of b and c, it being a right line of uniform thickness, but tapering off at the upper and lower curve and ending, like B and c, in a hair-stroke. These forms should be practised with the greatest care by the student, who should always remember that the secret of success is to take pains at the beginning. GEOLOGY. 113 IV. To enter at any length into the minute structure of the various descriptions of plutonic and volcanic rocks, and the microscopical dif- ferences between them, would divert us from our main purpose, and hinder the student by confusing him with a mass of detail belonging to a special branch of investigation. It is necessary, however, to mention a further and important classification of these rocks, based upon their composition from a chemical point of view. All igneous rocks are siliceous — that is, they contain a larger or smaller pro- portion of silica ; and are divided, accordingly, into Acid (those containing 00 per cent, and upwards of silica), and Babic (those con- taining less than 00 per cent, of silica).* Plutonic Bocks. (Acid se7'ies.) Granite is perhaps the best known of the plutonic rocks. It is composed of felqmr, mica, and quartz. The colour of the rock depends upon that of the felspar. It often con- tains other minerals as accessories. Syenitic granite or Hornhletidic granite contains a propor- tion of hornblende. Scliorlaceons qra- mte is a granite con- taining schorl (black tourmaline). Porphyritic granite is a granite rock with * Estimate op the Proportions of the several Elements in the Crust of the Gloue. ^ ' Parts in 1000 Oxygen 500 Silicon 250 Aluminium, magnesium, calcium, potas- sium, sodium, iron .... 227 Carbon, sulphur, hydrogen, chlorine, nitrogen 23 Ail the other fifty-one elements constitute exceed- ingly minute and quite inconsiderable proportions of the m^s of the globe, as far as we are acquainted with It. Silica is a combination of oxygen and silicon (Si 0.>). In its pure state it forms rock crystal. It exists in considerable quantities in granite, where it may be readily recognized as a hard glassj" substance. It also unites with the other substances, such as lime, alumina, magnesia, soda, potassa, etc., of which minerals arc composed. These substances in chemical phraseolog.v are called “ bases.” Rocks which con- tain G<) per cent, of silica, either free or combined, are, as stated above, known as “acid” rocks; those iii which the proportion is less than 6U per cent, are described as “ basic.” VOL. I. conspicuous crystals of felspar larger than the crystallized mass of which the bulk of the roclT is made up. The “ Shap ” granite used for the posts in front of St. Paul's Cathedral is a i^or- phyritic granite. Syenite is a rock composed of orthoclaso felspar and hornblende. The name, however, is frequently applied to syenitic granite. (piartz syenite is composed of hornblende, felspar and quartz. L elstoiie is a hard flinty -looking smooth rock, consisting of a flne admixture of ortho- clase felspar and quartz, without any deflnite crystallization. When crystals of felspar occur in such a rock, it receives the name ot felspar poipliyrij ; and when in addition to or instead of these there are quartz crystals, the rock becomes qnartz qjorphyry. This last group (felstone and felspar por- phyry and quartz porphyry), though classed by some authorities amongst the plutonic rocks, appears to occupy an intermediate position between the plutonic and volcanic series. Volcanic Bocks. (Acid series.') These rocks may be divided into three groups— Phonolites, and Obsidians. The Trachytes form «n important group of volcanic rocks. They are so designated* because they are rough to the touch. 'Trachyte properly so-called, is a fine-grained rock, fre- quently of a pale grey colour, though by no means invariably so, and is made up of a mass of minute entangled felspar crystals, often enclosing other and larger crystals. As a rule, they also contain hornblende, augite, or mica, and frequently a little iron. The felspar usually predominates, lihy elite is a term applied to a class of trachytic rocks which are richer in silica than the genuine tra- chytes. Free quartz is more commonly found in the rhyolites than in the trachytes. Hornblende and aug- ite are less common. IN VOLCANIC ROCKS. .IV/OO Phonolite is the name given to a rock in some respects intermediate between the “ acid” and the “ basic ” series. It is compact, com- monly splits up into thin slabs, gives out a ringing sound when struck with a hammer, and is generally of a greyish green or ashy grey colour. It obtains its name of clinkstone or phonolite from the sound given out by it when struck. Obsidian, or volcanic glass, is melted lava which has been quickly cooled. Pitekstone is a less glassy form, and Pumice frothy lava. Plutonic Bocks. (Basic series . ) Gabhro is a name used to designate a some- what variable group of rocks. True gabbro is composed of diallage and Labrador felspar. Bypersthenite contains liypcrsthcne in place of the diallage. Biorite is a rock formed of felspar and horn- * From rpa^uj, rough. 8 114 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. blende, and differs from syenite in the particular kind of felspar it contains. The felspar of syenite is orthoclase, that of diorite is plagio- clase. Porphyritic dolerites (see next paragraph). Volcanic Rocks. {Basic Series.) These rocks may be briefly described under two heads, — Basalts and Dolerites ; and one of these, again, might very conveniently be aban- doned, since a basalt is a fine-grained dolerite, and a dolerite a coarse-grained basalt. A typi- cal basalt or dolerite is composed of plagioclase felspar, augite, olivine, a little iron, and frequently a small pro- portion of apatite (phosphate of lime). In a basalt these con- stituents are not visible separately to the naked eye; in a dolerite, though still small, they can usually be distinguished without a lens. Dolerites with larger embedded felspar crystals are ’porphyritic dolerites, and are usually regarded as plutonic. The line between plutonic and volcanic rocks in this group is not always easy to be drawn. In some of these rock?; the fel- spar is replaced by lencitc, and we then have “ leucite rock ” ; in others its place is taken by nepheline, and it is then nepheline basalt.” Melaph'yre. — Under this teim it was at one time the custom to include all basaltic rocks of palaeozoic and mesozoic age. Diabase is a name given to basalts and dolerites which contain chlorite. As this last- named mineral is now recognized as a result of partial decomposition, the distinctive name of diabase is generally abandoned. In the Old Red Sandstone of the Mendips this cementing material is principally iron rust, and it is the same in many other cases; but we have also calcareous sandstones, in which the grains are united by carbonate of lime, and sometimes the cementing material is more or less siliceous and felspathic. The sand thus bound together may be much water worn and rounded, or the fragments may be angular and show but few signs of having been rolled. The grains may also differ greatly in size. Many sandstones are made up of particles that can- not well be seen without the aid of a magni- fying glass; on the other hand, they are sometimes as large as a pea. There is a further difference of some importance — the propor- tion of other material mixed with siliceous grains of which the sandstone is mainly com- posed. Most sandstones contain, for instance, a few spangles of mica ; but in some of them the flakes are so abundant that they form thin layers. This feature is common in the flagstones brought from Yorkshire to pave the streets of London. Grains of felspar also occur in some sandstones, and are occasionally very abundant, giving rise to the designation “felspathic sand- stones.” The colour of these rocks varies greatly. It is sometimes clear and glassy, owing to the abundance of transparent pure quartz grains, and the nature and proportion of the cementing material. It may be, however, of a dull white, from the presence of felspar, or of various shades of red, brown, yellow, and green, due to iron. Patches of colour are sometimes caused by the presence of copper and other minerals. FIG. SPATAXGUS COKAXGUIIfUir. DIPTEKUS— DOTTBLE-WIXGED. The glassy form of the basic rocks, corre- sponding to the pitchstones and obsidians of the acid series, is known as tachylite. Sedimentary Rocks. Sedimentary rocks — that is, rocks which have been formed from sediment laid down under water — may be divided into three groups. 1. Sandstones Conglemerates, and Breccias. Sandstones. — This group of rocks agree in the mode of their formation, and differ mainly in o j . the size and nature of the material o^ndstoiiCi j! i_ • 1 J.1 j A of which they are composed. A sandstone is made up of grains of sand bound together by something which acts as a cement. Conglomerates, or Pudding Stone. — Just as grains of sand cemented together form sand- stone, so pebbles similarly bound- together by sand, iron, clay, etc., form conglomerates. The pebbles may be of any material, and the cementing matter of any kind. As a matter of fact, they do vary greatly. The “ Hertfordshire pudding-stone ” is made up exclusively of flint pebbles em- bedded in sand so firmly cemented together that the pebbles themselves break when the stone is fractured. The same conglomerate, when found on the south side of the London Basin, frequently shows a more calcareous matrix, and the pebbles being less firmly fixed, FRENCH PRONUNCIATION. 115 are more easily broken out. In the conglome- rates of the Trias, the pebbles have been formed from some of the old crystalline rocks. They lie in places in unconsolidated sand, and in others pass into a hard rock. The conglomerate is well shown at Alderley Edge, in Cheshire. An older conglomerate still is found in North Wales, at the base of the Cambrian rocks, made up of waterworn pebbles formed from still older rocks, and greatly changed in character before they were worn into pebbles. Breccias . — Breccias differ from conglome- rates in being formed, not of waterworn Breccias pe^^les, but of angular frag- ments of rock. The so-called dolomite conglomerates ” of the Mendip Hills, already referred to, afford a very good illustration. Some of the blocks included in them are large masses measuring several feet in thickness; tlie majority are, of course, very much smaller, the average size being perhaps a couple of inches in longest diameter, and a considerable proportion smaller still. Eules of Peonunciation. The Simple Vowels {continued). § 20 a. E slender, printed without any accent, can only be recognized from its position. It forms the sole vowel and final letter of the following monosyllables : ce, de, je, le, me, ne, que, se, te. In these words, the e slender may undergo two changes — (1) it may become en- tirely mute, being replaced by an apostrophe {see \ 8, Eem. II.), or elided (§ 19 h) in pronun- ciation, though retained in writing ; (2) it may be changed into e open [e) through the s which is added to some of these words by inflexion or contraction : ces, des, les, mes, ses, tes, which are pronounced te, de, etc {see § 23 a). h. An unaccented e has the slender sound when it comes in the body of a word, after hl.—Faiblement, weakly (pron. fl-hle-man — sec § 46 for man) ; hr. — Bretelle, brace {Jbre-tell) ; cl. — Rdclement, scraping {ra-cle-man) ; cr. — Cretonne, flax and hemp fabric {cre- tonn) ; dr. — Tendrement, tenderly {tan-dre-man) ; Ji. — Souffleter, to slap the face {soo-Jie-tay) ; fr. — Fredaine, prank {fre-dhi) ; — Aveuglement,* blindness {d-vc-gle-man ) ; yr . — Grenade, Granada {Gre-ndd) ; pi . — Simplement, simply {sim-ple-man) ; f I>r. — Premier, first {yjre-miay) : J tr. — Tredame,^ by’r Lady ! {tre-damm)\ "^r. — Pauvrete, poverty {po-nre-tay). blindly^ to be mistaken for avetiglement, meaning t For sim see § 47. I i the sound it has in amiable. ^ “ Tredame ! Monsieur, est-ce que Madame Jo^irdain est d^cr^pite ? ” (Moliebe.) § 21 «. E close is generally marked by the acute accent: Umerite, rashness (pron. tay-may- rce-tay). An e also has a close sound when it precedes an inarticulate consonant other than s and t ; {et, conjunction and, is pronounced e^. Beryer, shepherd (pron. herr-zhe) ; Clef, key {de) ; Venez, come {vni) ; Familier, familiar {fd-mee-Ue) ; Pied, foot {pie) ; Fier, to trust {JiC). Remarks. — 1. Clef is written by many as pronounced (viz., cle), a sound which it retains even before a vowel : la clef est perdue (the key is lost) would not be read la cle fe, but la cle e. 2. In cep de vigne (vine) pronounce ci (see § 23 a) ; p, however, is carried to the next vowel in the singular : U7i cep et son echalas (a vine and its prop), read un ch pi, soneshdld ; but in the plural, des ceps et leurs e'chalas, read des ce ze, etc. 3. Chef -d' oeuvre (masterpiece) forms another exception ; pronounce something between cite and che-d'oeuvr (see § 22 a). Chef in this word retains, therefore, as much as pos- sible of its original sound, which is sheff (with the e open). h. E is also close in some words which have come unaltered from ‘Latin and Italian to French. The Latin words are mostly referring to the Eoman Catholic worship, and the Italian words to the art of music. Such are — Credo (I believe), a creed (pron. cre-do) ; Criterium, criterion {hwe-te-riom'), Acad.; {hree-te-riom'), Littre. Confiteor (I confess), a confession of sins {con-fee-te-or). _ Be profundis (out of the depths), a peniten- tial psalm {de pro-fon-deess) ; Te Deum (Thee, God), a thanksgiring {te- dlom), Acad. ;* {te-de-om), Littre. Requienn (repose), a prayer for the dead (re- hui-'em) ; Vade-mecum (walk with me), a companion {vd-de-7nekom) ; Andante, a moderately slow movement {an- dant' and an-dan-te) ; Cantahile, an elegant, smooth style (pron. kan-td-bee-le). Forte, in a loud manner {^rora. f6r-te). Remark. — Angelus, Ave Maria, ^niserere, allegro, tenor, are written with the acute accent, and present therefore no difficulty. § 22. E semi-close, a. It is only for the sake of completeness that we shall speak of this sound, and mention further that some ingenious grammarians have discovered another shade which, in English, might be called semi-open. As for the number of vibrations between semi- close and semi-open, no one has, as yet, risked an opinion, and we should advise the student not to attempt the solution of the problem. The Academic makes no mention of these two shades; M. Littre, while admitting one of them, gives no rule for detecting it, and it is indicated in no dictionary that has come under our notice. The eminent publisher and printer, P. Bidot, suggested for the e semi-close a per- * Where two authorities are given, it is safer to follow the Academie. 116 THE UmVERSAL INSTItUCTOR. pendiciilaT accent, which, unfortunately, has not been adopted. The nuinber of words which possess this peculiar sound must be looked upon as diminished in practice, since the Academie, in the ne\v edition of their diction- ary, spell now all vrords in ege — a termination to which the seini-close e sound used to be assigned — with the givave accent : j'assiegc, college, sacrilege, jii 'ege, etc. 1). The e semi-close has a medium sound be- tween e and e; i in the English wordy?Y seems to us the nearest approach to it. “The sound j is rendered variously in French ; by an un- , accented e, as in sccte ; by an acute accent, as j in the first e in ke and in severe ; by e, as in JVbel ; by egs, et, ect, as in legs, svjet, respect (also by ai, as in the first syllable of aimai ; aid as in laid ; ait as in trait). ' — Littre, We quote P. Larousse verbatim (vol. vii., p. 2, j col. 2) ; “ In all words derived from other | words whose penultimate is an e open followed j by a mute syllable, the e becomes semi-close j every time it is followed by the sounds a, | au, en, ou, on, an, or by the termination ai of imperfects and conditionals. Examples : eor- reetcur, coi'rection, directeitr, direction, hlas- pliematenr, hlasplihnatoirc, celebrant, collection, catecJinmenat, elevation, jievreux, tenehrenx, tiedcur, mogcnnant, excellent, nons excellons, nom excelidmes, rons excelldtcs, professenr, profession, nous professons, nous 2)ossedo7ts. nous possedions, nous protestons. protestant, gn'otest- antisme, protestation, revelation, sgsteinatigue, etant, mcttant, siquestratioji, j'etais, tu etais, il kait. Us etaient, je mettais, tu mettais, il mettait, je mettrais, etc. In all words which do not present such a derivation, the e is always close : gyreparation, separement, ccymplement, parr consequent." c. The e is likewise semi-close when it comes before the terminations sion, tion, seur: succes- sion, digestion, concession, accesseur, confesseur, etc. ; and every time it is followed by an articu- lated r : preferer, vous preferez,je verrai, vous verrez, acquerir, terrible, vertv, ergo, etc., there being no exception but for de placed at the beginning of words : dkaciner, dei'outer, etc. It is needless to add that this point is debatable ; we intend, however, to refer the riper student to it now and then. § 28. e open and c open and long. For all practical purposes, there is no ditference in quality between e, e, and e open from position ; there is, although not in all cases, a difference in quantity : e being generally the longest. e open from positionVaQ shortest, and e holding a middle place. a. An e apen is recognized — (1) By the accents grave and circumflex : mod'ele, model ; prox\. mQ-del. pere, father ; pron. per', eveque, bishop ; pron. cvki^. lionnete. honest ; pron. Onet'. (2) By a final articulated consonant put after an e ; grec, Greek ; pron. g7'e]c. bref, short ; pron. href. Joseph, Joseph ; pron. Zliozcf. del, sky ; pron. siel. Michel, Michael ; pron. Meeshel. hymen, marriage ; pron. eem'en. julep, julep ; pron. zhuVep. fier, proud ; prow.fi'er. j'acquiers, I acquire ; pron. zhukier. index, forefinger ; pron. in-d'elcs. (3) By a double consonant following c : ehapelle, chapel ; pron. shapell. echellc, ladder ; pron. eshell. queje that I may hold ; pron. tienn* ennemi, foe ; pron. enmee. rei're, glass ; pron. ver. libeller, to libel ; pron. lee-b'el-U. richesse, wealth ; pron. reeshess. sagesse, wisdom ; pron. sazhess. brouette, wheelbarrow ; pron. brooett. lettre, letter ; pron. letr'. die, she ; pron. oil. concetti, brilliant but inaccurate thoughts v pron. contshet-ti. (4) By two consonants articulated separately and following e, whether these consonants stand before an e mute or any other vowel : il ferine, he shuts ; \)\' 0 \\.ferm : ferme, shut ; Tpron. ferine. certes, of course ; pron. sert : liherte, free- dom ; pron. leeberte. ternie, term ; pron. term : ermite, hermit ; pron. ermeet. ge.de, gesture; pron. zhest : gesticuler, to gesticulate ; pron. zhesteeeule. espere, hope thou; pron. esp'er : respire, breathed ; pron. respecre. qires^ue, almost ; pron. q^^'^sk : esquif, skiff ; pron. eshcef. escorte, escort; pron. escort: coiivale.scent, ditto ; pron. convdVessan. b. Be marks. —{\) The e is always oqien in monosyllables, when it is followed by s, as ees, dos, es, les, nies, tes; pron. s'e, de, I'e, e, me, te. (2) The final although mute, renders the pre- ceding e open : archet, arohets (bow, -s) pron. ar-she ; ballet, ballets tdauce, -s), pron. Mg; il met, je mets (he puts, I put), pron. me, etc. The conjunction et (and) is pronounced e, doubtless to distinguish it from the verb est (is) which sounds e. (3) When e is followed by two mute consonants it is open ; examples above, ost, mets, etc. ; aspect, respect, -pron. aspe, respe. Some say asp'ek, respelt, others asqi'ckt, respekt, but the e is always open. N.B.— The pronun- ciation asp'e, respe is recommended. EXERCISE. Read several times aloud the following phrases (culled mostly from the Syllahaire- Beginnheau, pp. 68-9), in which — The mute c’s and other mute letters are italicized ; The slender g’s left without any particular mark ; The close e\ from position, marked ^ ; The open g’s, from position, marked e ; The accented c’s {e, e, e) speak for them- selves ; The semi-close d’s are not taken into con- sideration. De tel.9 proc^dd^ le perdroni — Gabriel cherchg Michel {shenJi Meeshelk) — le matdriel du chc- min dc fer — ung gerbg de ble — il exereg son commerce a la kermessg — ellg a servi un mer- CUE2IISTRY. 117 .- Ian au colonel— Kl(^bjr a traverse lamer — sans exeniple {cdi nasal, see § 4G) le preceptc sera perdu — quelle belle pei'le ! Adrienne a ferme la persienne — rarcliitecte {larsheetekt') a in- spect6 la nef de la chapelle — se^ geste.? sonzl presqwe grotesqwe^ — Ernest (eniest) remettra cette letcre a son adresse — il faudra qne je prenne un lapin {in nasal, see § 43 h) de garenne — prenS:;? ce gile^ et ce mantelet, et donnez-le.? au pauvre — cest le prefer et son vale^ — laissw passer le coclier — pri62: le fermie)* de cultiver inon verge?' — aimeA*-tu le*’ poire.? cuite.? ? La clef est ^ {eta) tee pig??,? — tu regarde.9 cee grandee fenetre.? — quan?/ (kan) tu saluee, ote ton chapeau — I’armee est (14cimee — ce pobte a d^crii^ la fete de Noel — nous {nou) vimee le po6me mercredi dernie?’. Note. — For e in combination with other vowels, consult § 2 ; for e in combination with the semi- vowels m and n, see § 42. III. HEAT AND COMBUSTION. The paramount importance of the functions exercised by heat as the principal mechanical agent in effecting the various changes to which the world of matter is constantly subject — un- locking as it does the bond that unites molecule fl « fv, i. molecule, converting the solid ction 0 eat. liquid and the liquid into the gas, and likewise dissociating atom from atom in the chemical compound — demands that we should devote a brief portion of our space to a consideration of its nature and attributes. Heat, like light and electricity, is a manifes- tation of force or energy w’hich can only be exhibited through the medium of some material agent. At once dismissing the theory which at one time affected to regard heat as a subtle fluid pervading the physical universe, and re- cognizing the fact that heat can have no exist- ence apart from matter, we may Thenati^ simplify our definition by saying ® ’ that heat is matter in motion. The bullet from the gun, and the hammer swung by a strong arm, derive their momentum from the expenditure of a certain amount of force or energy. Here we have the motion of the mass. Let us suppose this motion to be suddenly arrested in the case of Conversion bullet by coming into contact o energy, ^ stone wall, and in that of the hammer by striking on the anvil, and the result will be to convert one kind of energy into another kind of energy : the motion of the mass becomes the motion of the mole- cules, and heat is the result. The momentum of a moving body, suddenly brought to a stand- still, is therefore not lost or destroyed, but is converted into motion of a different kind, and the amount of heat thus generated is directly proportionate to the velocity of the moving Heat arrested motion. body ; we may therefore go a step further in our definition of heat, and call- it arrested motion. The halfpenny that may be ham- mered on the anvil, and the button that may be rubbed on a rough surface until they are' too hot to be handled, the match that is ignited by friction, and the spark that is struck from the pavement by the hoof of a horse, are all examples of heat due to arrested motion. Our readers have all, doubtless, admired the graceful curve described by a meteor on the cloudless sky of a summer night, wfithout per- haps being aware that they were witnessing another example of heat thus generated. These so-called shooting stars are in reality small bodies travelling through space at a planetary rate of speed. Upon entering our atmosphere their tremendous velocity — in comparison with wfliich a cannon-ball, at its maximum of speed, can scarcely be said to crawl — is instantly checked by collision with this denser me- Shooting stars. The thermometer. dium, and suflucient heat is instantaneously generated, by the opposition they meet with, to render these bodies white-hot or incan- descent, and a few seconds is, in most cases, sufficient to burn them entirely away and convert them into invisible gas. All bodies, with some few exceptions wLich it is unnecessary to j)articularize, expand under the influence of heat. I'his is true of liquids in a greater degree than solids, and of gases in a still ^ ’ higher degree. The tendency of liquids to expand is turned to account in the construc- tion of the ’well-knowni and useful little philo- sophical instrument termed a thermometer, or heat-measurer ; this consists of a bulb at the end of a capillary (hair-like) tube of glass. The wdiole being filled with boiling mercury, the end of the tube is hermetically closed ; as the mercury cools it contracts, leaving a vacuum in the tube above it, and the subsequent rise and fall of the slender column in the tube serves to indicate the changes of temperature. On the Fahrenheit scale — that generally used in this countiy — 0 is 32° below freezing point, and the temperature of boiling w^ater is 212°. On the centigrade scale 0 is freezing point, and 100° boiling water. Consequently, as wfill be seen, 180° Fahrenheit correspond to 100° centigrade, or the degree Fahrenheit is f of the degree centigrade. All gases, with one or two exceptions, expand in the ratio of of their volume for every degree centigrade. This being tke rate of expansion of air, it follow's that if we raise the temperature of a given quantity of air one degree, it wfill have increased in the ratio of of its original bulk, and so on for every degree of temperature. Conse- quently, if we continue to increase Expansion of the temperature up to 273° C., we &2,3es. shall have doubled its volume. A cubic yard of air at 0, if the temperature be raised to 273° C., will fill two cubic yards. This fact suggests a somewiiat singular consideration. Let us sup- Thermometric scales. 118 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. a piece of ice is brought near any source of heat, 1 engaged heat is liberated. GERMAN. 119 The Verb f)aben, to have (continued'). SECOND CONDITIONAL, OR CONDITIONAL PAST. iDurbe ^aben, I should have had icli wnerr'-de gc-liapt' ha' -hen T)u iDurbeft c^ebabt i^aben, thou wouldst doo vuerr'-dest ge-hajjf ha' 'hen [have had (it tpiirbe gel;abt I;aben, he would have airr mierr'-de ge-hapt' ha' -hen [had 2Bir iviicben ge^abt i^aben, we would hav^e veerr vuerr'-den ge-hapt' ha' -hen [had iinirbet gel^abt baben, ye would have eerr vnerr'-det ge-hapt' ha' -hen [had ©le tt)urben gebabt they would zee mierr'-den ge-hapt' ha' -hen [have had This tense is formed from the first condi- tional by the insertion of the past participle gebcibt, as the second future is formed from the first. IMPERATIVE. ^^abe (bu)/ have (thou) ha -he doo f)abe C^O/ have ha' -he airr |)aben thir, let us have ha' -hen veerr '^abt (ibt)/ fiave (ye) liajit e-err |)abcn fl'e, let them have ha' -hen zee The pronouns thou and ye (bU and ibr) are generally omitted in German, as in English, with the Imperative : Have patience,” ^abe (or babt) ©ebulb (ge-dulf). Except in the second person the form “let us,” “let them ” (laf or labt un^, laft fte) is generally used in German : “ Let us have the book,” (sing.) or iaft (plur.) ba^ Sud) SUBJUNCTIVE MOOD. 3cb I (may) have, or (that) I have ich ha' he Su thou (mayst) have, or (that) thou doo ha'best [have ©t tie (may) have, or (that) he have airr ha'he 2Bir baben, we (may) have, or (that) we have veerr ha' hen 3bt babct, ye (may) have, or (that) ye have eerr ha'-het ©ie baben, they (may) have, or (that) they zee ha'-hcn [have The diffei’ence in form from the indicative mood is here in the second and third persons singular and second person plural : babefi, babe, and babet, instead of bafl, bat, and babt. IMPERFECT. 3cb batte, I might have, or that I had ich het'-te ©U battefl, thou mightest have, or that thou doo het-teet [hadst Sr batte, he might have, or that he had airr het'-te 23{r batten, we might have, or that we had veerr het'-ten -3bt battet, ye might have, or that ye had eerr hat'-tet ©ie batten, they might have, or that they had zee hat'-ten The only difference in form from the indica- tive imperfect is in the use of the Umlaut over the a : b^dte instead of batte, etc. PERFECT. 3cb babe ocbabt, I may have had, or that I ich ha' -he ge-hapt [have had babeft gebabt, thou mayest have had doo ha! -best ge-hapt Sr babe gebabt, he may have had airr ha' -he ge-hapt 2Bir baben ficbabt, we may have had reerr lia'-hen ge-hapt' 3bt babet d^babt, ye may have had eerr ha'-het ge-hapt' ©ie baben gebabt, they may have had zee ha! -hen ge-hapt This tense is merely a repetition of the pre- sent subjunctive, with the addition of the past participle gebabt. PLUPERFECT. 3cb batte (icbabt, I might have had, or (that) I ich het' -te ge-hapt' [had had X)U battefi ficbabt, thou mightest have had doo het' -tent ge-hapt' Sr batte miglit have had airr het'-te ge-hapt! Sir batten gebabt, we might have had veerr het'-ten ge-hapt' -3bt battet O^babt, ye might have had eerr het' -tet ge-hapt' ^ie batten ^ebabt, they might have had zee het'-ten ge-hapt' PRESENT PARTICIPLE. PAST PARTICIPLE. |)abenb, having. ©ebabt, had. ha! -hent ge-hapt' Note. — Hahen, s'>yn, and werden are called auxiliaries of tense, to distinsruish them from other verbs that are called auxiliaries of mood. The form of addressing persons in German varies from the English manner. As in France very intimate friends and near relations call each other tu (thou), so in German, parents and children, brothers and sisters, etc., call each other !Du. In other cases they use the form of the third person, ©ie, always writing it with a capital initial. Thus. Have you a friend ? ^abcu ©ie einen J^teimb ? Have they a friend ? ^aben fie (small letter) einen Sreunb The old form 3bt/ second person plural, was formerly used for you. but is now only employed' in speaking to those to whom in the singular 120 THU UXirSnSAL IXSTnVCTOJR. we should say !Du. Thus, wc say to one child, iDu thou hast time; to several, 3 (it l;aH l^^ve time. Studies on the Verb to Have. Heading and Translation. The following sentences are to be translated into English. To do this the student should first learn by heart the vocabulary at the end of the first paragraph, then read the sentences aloud to get the pronunciation, and then trans- late the sentences, writing them out in English, and finally comparing them with the English version given at the end of the lessons on ^abcn. In the paragraphs to be translated from English into German, the same method may be adopted. I . — On the Present Tense. Question, answer, and negation. 3rf) i;abe cinen ^rciinb. (Sr ^at cin |)au^. ich ha! -he i'-nen froind agrr hat ine house Sit babeu 53ruber iinb 0cbiheftern. 0ie veerr ha'-hen bnie'-der nnd sJices-tcrji zee l;at cinen Sooct. 2Sir baben jeit |)at hat i'-nen fo'-gcl veerr ha'-hen tsitc hat fte Soinmen ! |)vtt er cin ^ferb ? Sl^ein zee hloo'-men hat agrr ine gifaird mine S5rubcr (int mein 9)?e)Ter. mein hroo'-der hat mine mes'-ser hat mine ^reimb cine 2:ocbter? |)aben 0ie J^eber froind i'-ne toch'-ter ha'-hen zee fay'-dcr unb S)inte? |)aben [ie cinen ^leiftift? und din'rte ha'-hen zee i'-nen Bly'-stift |)at cr nidit GietbV |)afl bn mein hat ayrr nicht gelt hast doo mine ^ebermeiTer? 3cb bcibe cin Sliefrcr, cine fay' -der-mes-ser ich ha'-he ine viesser i'-nc ©abef unb cinen ?offct. -^aben 0ie ba$^ gah'-hel nnd i-nen loef -f cl ha'-hen zee dass SDintenfvi^? fin unb cinen dm' -ten-f ass earr haht ine house nnd i!-ntn (2ivtrten. 3fb ^fin @elb. fiabcn garr'-ten ich ha'-he kine gelt ha'-hen 0ie meinen S^ctienfcbirm. 3d) finen zee my'-nen ray' -gensheerrm ich ha'-he i'-nen ^unb. Qx bht cine ^atje. -^aben 0ie hund ayrr hat i'-ne hat' -ze ha'-hen zee nid;t cin 2)?effer? 0ie bnt niebt cine nicht ine mes-ser zee hat nicht i'-ne S:od;ter. Set ^t'nabe bnt cinen ?ebrcr. toch'-ter dare hnah'-he hat i'-nen lair'-er Sir baben cin 55ud;. 0ie bnt cinen veerr ha'-hen ine hooch zee hat i-nen Sietienfcbirm. |)at cr niebt cin f)au^? ray' -gensheerrm hat ayrr nicht ine house 9?ein, cr b^t cinen ©arten. |)a[t bu ■nine ayrr hat i'-nen garr'-ten hast doo niebt cinen 55teiftift? 5?ein, icb bnbe cine nicht i'-nen hly'-stift nine ich ha'-he i'-ne geber. (?r bat cinen S3ruber unb cine fay'-der ayrr hat i'-nen hroo-der nnd i'-ne 0Cbibefter 3bt b^bt cinen ?ebrer. 0ie schvest-er earr haht I'-nen lair-er zee bat cine greunbin. Iiat i'-ne froind' -in VOCABULARY. Singular. 5)er ^rcunb, the friend. dare froint bie greiinb^in/ the female dec froind'-in [friend, bad -^aud, the house. dass house ber 53rnber, the brother. dare brood' -er bie 0d)n)cfter, the sister. dee schvestf-er ber 35dfiet,^ the bird. dare f o' -gel bie 3fit/® tiie time. dee tsite bie S3iume, the flower. dee hloo'me bad ^ferb, the horse. das i)f ay rt bad itefTer, the knife. dass mes'-ser bie 2:od;ter, the daughter. dee toch'-ter bie 3fber, the pen. dee fay'-der bie T)inte/ the ink. dee din' -to ter Sieiftift/ the pencil. dare hly'-stift bad @etb, the money. dass gelt Plural. bie ^reunbe dec Froin-de bie greunbinen dee froind' -in-cn tie |)aufer dee hoy'-zerr bie S3ruber dee hrue-derr tie 0d)meftern dee schvest-ern bie 33bgel' dec foeh'-gel bie 3fiten dee tsite' -en bie S3tumen dee bloom' -en bie ^ferbe dee if air-de bie 9}?cfrer dee mes-ser bie 3:5d;ter dee tocch-ter bie ^fbern dec fay'-dern bie 0intcn dee dinteii bie 55teiftifte dee hly'-stifte bie ©elber dee geld-er bad Sebermeffer, the penknirc. bie SfbermefTer dass fay' -der -mes-ser bie (3abef/ the fork. dec gah'-het ber ?dfFet, the spoon. dare loef -fed decfay'-der-mes-sei bie ©abetn dee gah'-hcln bie Sbffel dee loef -f el bad 0intcnfa0,‘ the inkstand, bie :0intenfafrer dass din-ten-fass dee din! -ten-f cs-sen' ber ©arten, the garden. dare garr'-ten ber 3iegenfd;irm,* the um- dare ray' -gensheerrm [brella ber |)unb, the dog. dare hund (the U as in pull.') bie ^atje, the cat. dee hat'-se ber .^nabe, the boy. dare hiah'-he bie ©arten dee geiFten bie ^egcnfd;irme dee ray' -gen- sheerrm bie ^unbe dee hunde bie i^atjen dee hat' -sen bie .^naben dee hnah'-hen OBSERVATIONS. Freundin is also written with a double n. ® Vogel is the English “fowl” — an instance of the softening of g into w. ^ From the German zeit comes the English “tide Shrovetide, Whitsuntide, etc. * Dinte is also written with a f ; Tinte. ® Blelstift, from Biel, lead, and Stift. a stylus or pointed pencil. It is also called die Blei-feder (the lead pen! ‘ From Gabel, a fork, comes the English “ gable.” ’ From Dinte, ink, and Fasz, tub, — literally, “ink- tub.” ” From Begen, rain, and Schirm, shade, or shelter. HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 121 t>er ?el;rer,* the teacher. dare lair'-er S5U(^, the book. dass hooch bie ?c()rcr dee lair'-er bie 55ud;et dee huech'-er * From Lehre, teachin;?, whence the English word “lore.” The former observations as to the pronun- ciation of a {a in ha ha !), u (like the French ?<), and ^ {och .'), must be remembered. ENGLISH VERSION, For correcting the translation of the above. I have a friend. He has a house. We have brothers and sisters. She has a bird. We have time. Has she flowers? Has he a horse? My brother has my knife. Has my friend a daugh- ter ? Have you pen and ink ? Have they a IV. The death of the Emperor Maximilian, at the beginning of 1 619, brought the Elector Frederick the Wise, Luther’s patron, into a prominent position. The pope, who secretly favoured the candidature “ of Francis the First against the powerful and politic Charles of Spain, wished to make a friend of the influential Elector, whom some would have been glad to see on the imperial throne, and who had been appointed Controller WOEMS. pencil ? Has he not money ? Hast thou my penknife ? I have a knife, a fork, and a spoon. Have you the inkstand ? Ye have a house and a garden. I have no money. Have you my umbrella? I have a dog. He has a cat. Have you not a knife ? She has not a daughter. The boy has a teacher. We have a book. She has an umbrella. Has he not a house ? No, he has a garden. Hast thou not a pencil ? No. I have a pen. He has a brother and a sister. Ye have a teacher. She has a (female) friend. Note. — After the foregoing paragraph has been used in correcting the German translation, the student should write out the sentences from it in German from memory; Ich hale einen Freund, Fr hat ein Jluux, etc., etc . and then compare it with the German para- graph. By such exercises he will familiarise himself gradually with German phrases, and acquire a know- ledge of the language. Repetitioyi is most important, and each study should be accurately committed to memory before the next is attempted. in North Germany until the choice of the new emperor should be concluded. An attempt at reconciliation was made : Miltiz, the pope’s chamberlain, who had invited Luther to a confer- ence, giving up the sale of indulgences as inde- fensible; and the reformer on his part disclaiming any intention of interfering with the privileges of the papal throne ; but this good understanding was abruptly terminated. Dr. John Eck,of Ingol- stadt, challenged Luther and his friend Carlstadt of Wittenberg to a disputation at Leipsic. In the castle of the old town, the Pleissenburg, the dis- E°k. putants met, in presence of the Elector himself and of many nobles and gentle- men. Heated by controversy, and excited per- haps by the presence of his patron, Luther here took bolder ground. He denied Eck’s assertion that the supremacy of the pope was a Divine « 122 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. ordinance, declaring it to be a mere human ar- rangement, instituted some centuries after the be- ginning of the Christian era. Eck lost his temper, and hotly accused Luther of Hussite heresy. Luther boldly retorted that the teachings of Huss contained a great amount of evangelical truth, and that Church councils v'ere not infal- lible. The breach was widened by this Leipsic disputation, and compromise was now impossible. While Luther found a warm admirer and coadjutor in Carlstadt, whose zeal carried him farther in the direction of change C^lstadt than the fiery reformer himself ever the innovator, advocated the sup- pression of conventual orders altogether, it was architect could hardly have been found than Philip Melanchthon. Luther himself Avrote : “ I am thereunto born, that I must war against hordes and devils, and go forth afield ; and therefore are my books very stormy and warlike. I must root up the logs and the stems, and hew away thorns and hedges, and fill up the pools ; and am the rough pioneer who has to break a way through the forest Luther’s and prepare it. But Magister Philip fares neatly and quietly ® onward, tilling and planting, sowing and rvater- ing with joy, according unto the gifts that God hath given him richly.” While strength of will, amounting even to obstinacy, and sometimes to THE CASTLE OF THE WARTBURG. fortunate that in the great undertaking a man of a very different temperament was associated ; one whose gentle nature and equable temper was the best corrective of a fiery zeal that some- times overstepped the bounds of prudence. This was Philip Melanchthon, of Brett en, who Philip been appointed Professor of Melanchthon Hebrew and Greek Literature at ( 1497 - 1569 ); Wittenberg, and whose learning his learning, and discretion were of inestimable service to the cause of the reformers. Luther’s part was to overturn strongholds of error, and to clear the ground ; Melanchthon’s to set up castles of truth. It was not enough to pull down, — it was necessary to build ; and a better intolerance, was the chief characteristic of Luther, Melanchthon was ever gentle, conciliat- ing, even timid. Luther had the high combative spirit that is only aroused to more decided ac- tion by opposition, and that extracts fresh hope from difficulty. Like the fabled Antasus, every blow intended to overthrow him only caused him to spring with renewed vigour from the contact with Mother Earth; but Melanchthon, a man of a quiet spirit, not unfrequently despond- ing, sometimes required the vigorous admoni- tions of Luther, to keep him from looking back after he had put his hand to the plough. “ Master Philip, ]\Iaster Philip,” once exclaimed the undaunted reformer, in reply to some faint- HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 123 hearted remarks of Melanclithon, “ why will you not let God govern His own world in His own way ? ” and again, when Melanchthon, sorely troubled by illness and discouragement, would gladly have passed away in sleep to eternal peace : “ No, no, Philip,” cried Luther, “ thou Luther’s must serve the Lord our God still boldness and further,” — and sturdily declared Melanchthon’s “ he would bring back the Ma- tinudity. gister Philip, with the help of God, from the grave to cheer- fulness.” The two men were fast friends, and continued so, without an interruption to their friend- ship, until that sad day when Melanchthon stood beside the coffin of the stronger leader who had fought beside him for twenty-eight years. They were exactly calculated to assist each other. Melanch- thon leaned on Luther’s sturdy strength; Lu- ther was con- tinually in- debted to the profound learn- ing of Melanch- thon, who was indeed, as one of his contem- poraries ad- miringly called him, Ahyssus eriiditiojiis, — a bachelor of arts at fourteen, doctor of phi- losophy at seventeen, and at twenty- one the most youth- ful of professors of ancient lan- guages at the University of Wittenberg. Angry at the persistency with which Luther and Melanchthon denied the Divine origin of Ur j, , , the papacy. Dr. Eck proceeded to joimey to ^ome, armed with a book wi’itten B^me, 1520. ^^7 himself wherein the contrary ’ * view was learnedly supported by extracts from the fathers and from decretals; and he succeeded in procuring from Pope .X., now thoroughly alarmed for the position of the Church in Germany, a bull LUTHEU 8 HOUSE AT EBANKFOET. against Luther, condemning the reformer’s works to the flames as heretical, and threatening him with ex- Controversy communication if within the“®^®®“ Lu^er space of sixty days he did ^ ®® ’ not recant his errors. This condemnation of an unheard and absent man excited general indignation, especially in Saxony. Luther re- plied by two powerful pamphlets : To the Chris- tian NohiUty of the German Natiori, and Of B ahylonian Captivity and Christi a n Free- dom. In the former treatise he vigorously exposed the oppression and humiliation endured from Pome by Ger- many, and called his coun- trymen to join in abolishing old abuses, crushing the arrogance of the papacy, im- ])roving educa- tion, and sub- ordinating the Church to the national law. In the second he handled the all - important subject of the Sacraments. The effect of these writings,, Av li i c h r e - echoed through, the heart of G e r m a n y, proved to the apostle of the Keformation that the hour for decisive action had come. On the 10th of Decem- ber, 1.520, in the presence of a great crowd of students and citizens, piib- licly, outside the Elster gate of Wittenberg, he burnt the book _ , of papal decrees, and the bull of cxcommuiiicRtion issu6d. by JLco xi-. jq ^520 “Because thou, godless book, hast aggrieved the saint of the Lord,” he cried, “ lot eternal tire consume thee.” This was utter and complete defiance of Kome ; and a recon- ciliation between Luther and the pope was henceforth impossible. The young Emperor Charles V. had resisted 124 UEiyEU>':iAL INSTRUCTOR. the glowing appeals of Ulricli of Hutten, Francis of Sickingen, and other leaders of the liberal party in Germany, to place himself at the head of the great movement for spiritual freedom, to guide and control it. For Charles believed in repression rather than progress. In his mind the idea of religious liberty was fraught with peril to all temporal authority ; and he became the declared and consistent opponent of the reformers. Luther was sum- Luthsr moned before the imperial diet summoned at Worms, to answer o/womsf 152^.^01' contumacy towards the ’ head of the Church. He was fur- nished with an imperial letter of safe-conduct ; but a similar document had been powerless, a centuiy before, to save John Huss from the dames. Some timid friends counselled him to stay away from the assembly ; but the undaunted reformer declared that if there were as many devils in the place as tiles upon the houses, he would go. History presents no more impres- sive sight than the scene of the great had of Worms, wherein were assembled those who came to deliver judgment on the most momentous question that had agitated the w'orld since the establishment of Christianity. On the one side was arrayed all the pomp, ecclesiastical and temporal, of a mighty empire : the young emperor, to whom had descended a mightier inheritance than any one man had possessed since the cathedral of Aix la Chapelle received the dust of Charlemagne, seven centuries before; his brother Ferdinand, to whom he had en- trusted the government of Austria ; the princes of Germany, the electors spiritual and temporal, the wise Frederick of Saxony, the politic I'hilip The Reformer Hesse. These, with a crowd before the of notabilities, the powerful and Council, the high-born, formed the tribunal. April 17-26, And on the other side stood alone 1521. and solitary the Augustine monk, strong in the consciousness of right and justice, standing erect before the great assembly, trusting to the power of truth alone, his one weapon the Bible. “ My conscience and the Word of God hold me prisoner,” he replied, when summoned to abjure what his enemies called his heresies ; “ therefore I may not and will not recant. Here I stand. I cannot do otherwise. God help me. Amen ! ” Well did the judicious and zealous Mathe- sius write of this great event, “ This is one of the glorious days, before the end of the world, on which the Word of God has been professed and confessed publicly, with Christian re- joicings, before the Roman emperor and the whole empire of Germany.” A century earlier, the fate of the man who dared thus publicly to defy such an assembly as the Diet of Worms would not have been doubtful. The fire and the faggot would have been the heretic’s doom. But the heart of Germany had been stirred to its depths by the contest between religious tyranny and freedom, the papacy and the Bible ; and the sympathy of the nobles and people alike was so strongly expressed in favour of the dauntless monk, that his opponents hesitated to adopt extreme measures against him. Not until after the reformer and various princes and deputies had qiutted the city was the ban of the empire hurled against Luther I-uther outlawed, May 26, 1521. and his adlierents ; his writings were condemned to the flames. Outlawed and excommunicated, Luther was in the greatest peril ; but from this he was rescued by the thoughtful care of the Elector of Saxony. On his return from Worms, Luther’s carriage was stopped by armed men, who, acting under the orders of the Elector, carried the reformer to the Wartburg, the lutber at the Warthurg. old castle of the landgraves of Thuj’ingia, near Eisenach. Here Luther remained in concealment, under the disguise of a knight, or rather a man-at-arms, and bearing the name of “ Junker Georg ” (Master George). Many of his friends mourned him as dead, until the appearance of some vigorous pamphlets against Albert of Mayence, who had again caused indulgences to be sold, gave convincing proof that the pen which had sent forth the stiiaing appeal against the “ Baby- lonian Captivity” was as active as ever. “ While our doctor was kept quite secretly at the Wart- burg,” writes Mathesius, “ he was not idle, but daily pursued his studies and his prayers ; he devoted liimself to the Greek and Hebrew Bibles, and sent many kind, consolatory letters to his friends.” “ 1 intend to translate the New Testament into our mother tongue, as our people wish,” wrote Luther. “ Oh that every city had its own translator, so that this book might be in the hands and hearts of every one ! ” The old Wartburg was indeed a Patmos to the reformer ; and the work he was pursuing — the translation of the Bible — was to remain as a costly legacy to his countrymen and the world for all time. V. Multiplication. Multiplication is a short method of finding the amount when a number is repeated (i.e. added to itself) several times. Thus 6 multi- plied by 3 (i.e. 3 times 5) means that three 5’s are to be added together ; 3 times 5 = 5 -f 5 -f 5 = 1.5. The number which is to be repeated is called the multiplicand ; in the above example 5 is the multiplicand. The number which shows how often the multiplicand is to be repeated is called Vao. multiplier ; in the above example 3 is the multiplier. The number found by multi- plication is called the product ; in the above example 15 is the product. The multiplicand and the multiplier are also called factors or makers of the product. The sign X means that the two numbers between which it stands are to be multiplied together. Thus 3 times 6 is Avritten 3x5. When two numbers are to be multiplied ABITUMETIC. 125 together, it makes no matter which we consider as the multiplier. For example, 3 X 5 = 5 X 5. This may be proved by performing the additions in each case.* For 3 X 5 3 + B + 3 + 3 + B = 15, and 5x3 = 5 + 5 + 6 = 15. The student must commit to memory the products of all numbers up to 12, by all other numbers up to 12. The following table shows these products at a glance ; — MULTIPLICATION TABLE. 1 ^ 1 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 2 4 6 8 10 12 14 16 18 20 22 24 3 6 9 12 15 1 18 21 24 27 30 33 36 4 8 12 16 20 24 28 32 36 40 44 48 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 G 12 18 24 30 36 42 48 54 60 G6 72 7 14 21 28 35 ,42 49 56 63 70 77 84 8 16 24 32 40 1 48 56 64 72 80 8 96 9 18 27 3G 45 1 1 64 63 72 81 90 99 108 10 20 30 40 50 1 60 70 80 90 100 no 120 11 22 33 44 65 1 66 77 88 99 no 121 132 12 24 36 48 60 72 8t 96 108 120 132 144 To find by it the product of any two numbers, look for one of the numbers in the top hori- zontal row of figures, which runs across the page from left to right, and look for the other number in the lefthand vertical column run- ning down the page ; follow down the, vertical column in which the first number stands, until it meets the horizontal row in which the second number stands; the number in which both meet is the required product. For example, to find the product of 7 and 5, the numbers 7 ancl 7 — 5 35 5 will be found in this table, as the accompanying dia- gram indicates, and their product, 35, will be found where, as in the diagram, the column containing the 7 meets the row containing the 5. Before we state the usual rule for multiplying one number by another, it is important to understand the following reasoning, on which in fact the rule is founded. Example 1. — Suppose we want to multiply 235 by 6. Now 235 = 5 units + 3 tens + 2 hundreds ; 6 times 235 = 6 times 5 units + 6 times 3 tens + 6 times 2 hundi-eds = 30 units + 18 tens + 12 hundreds Now 30 units = 0 units + 3 tens ; we may write the above 0 units + 21 tens + 12 hundreds. Again, 21 tens = 1 ten -f 2 hundreds ; the alDoyc is the same as 0 units + 1 ten + 14 hundreds, * Multiplication is really a short method of per- forming addition in a certain case — viz., in the case when the numbers to be added are all equal to each other. Thus 3 times lo means 15 + 15-1- 15 ; 4 times 120 means 120 + 120 + 120 + 120. When the multiplier is a large number, it is evident that a great deal of labour is saved by the method of multiplication. which again is the same as 0 units + 1 ten + 4 hundreds + 1 thousand {i.e. 1410 in the usual notation) ; .-.,6 X 235 = 1410. If we examine the above process we find that the result is got by multiplying each figure of the multiplicand (235) by the multiplier (6), then writing down the right-hand figure of each product, and adding the remaining figure (when there is one) to the next product ; and this is, in fact, the rule for multiplication when the multiplier is a single figure. This rule may be stated as follows : — First case . — When the multiplier is ^12, or any number smaller than 12. Itule. — Beginning at the right hand, multiply each figure of the multiplicand by the multiplier. Write down the right-hand (or units) figure of each product, and add the remaining figure (if there be one) to the next product, exactly as in addition. Applying this rule to the example taken before, find the produet of 235 multiplied by 6. We say 6 times 5 make 30 ; 235 put down 0 and carry 3 to the G next product. The next product is 6 times 3 1410 18), and adding the 3 we have 21 ; put down the 1 and carry the 2 to the next product. The next product is 6 times 2 (/.c. 12) ; adding the 2 we have 14, which we write in full. Example 2. — Find the value of 5 times 903. Say 5 times 3 make 15 ; put 903 down 5 and carry 1 ; 5 times 0 5 make 0, add 1 makes 1 ; put down 1 ; 5 times 9 make 45 ; write 4515 this down in full. Exercises : Find the produets in the following cases : — • (a) 7085 X 3 ; 876 X 7 ; 4012 X 5 ; 8642 X 9 (b) 543 X 3 ; 476 X 4 ; 763 X 5 ; 379 X 6 ; 245 X 7 ; 566 X 8 ; 827 X 9. (o) 489507 X 2 ; 6.M764 X 3 ; 200705 X 4 ; 924654 X 5 ; 753407 X b ; 923247 X 7 ,” 951847 X 8 ; 657432 x 9. Answers: (a) 21255; 6132; 20060; 77778. (b) 1629 ; 1901 : 3815 ; 2274 ; 1716; 4528 ; 7443. (c) 979014; 1964292; 802820; 4623270 ; 4520442 ; 6462729 ; 7614776 ; 5916888. Suppose there are more than one figure in the multiplier ; for instanee, 231 X 246. Now 246 = 6 + 40 + 200 ; if we multiply 231 by 6, by 40, and by 200 successively, and add the three products, we shall have multiplied by 246. Doing this ana arranging our work as follows, we have : 231 H 246 1386 = 6 times 231 9240 = 40 „ 231 46200 = 200 „ 231 56826 = 246 .. 231 3L26 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Clearly it will make no difference if we omit the 0 in the second line (9240) and the two O’s in the third line (46200), provided we keep the other figures in their own places. Our products would then stand thus : 1386 924 462 56826 It is not difficult to see that the process we have made use of in this example is equivalent to the following rule : Second case.— When the multiplier is greater than 12. Rule. — 1. Place the multiplier under the mul- tiplicand, so that the units of the one stand under the units of the other ; the tens under the tens; hundreds under hundreds, and so on. 2. Multiply the multiplicand by the right hand or units figure of the multiplier (this is done by the rule given above in the first case), and write down this product. 3. Multiply the multiplicand by the second (or tens) figure of the multiplier, and write this second product under the first, but one place to the left, so that units of second pro- duct stand under tens of first product, tens of second product under hundreds of first, and so on. Pi'oceed in the same way with the third, fourth, and other figures of the multiplier, and then add up the several products as they stand. The sum thus obtained is the product of the two given numbers. Let us apply this rule to the example already 1. Multiplying 231 by 6 we get 1386, 231 2. „ „ 4 „ 924, 246 and we write this under the 1386, but so that its units figure (4), 1386 comes under the tens figure (8). 924 3. Multiplying 231 by 2 we get 462, 462 and we write this under the 924, but so that its units (2) stand 56826 under the tens (2), of the 924. 4. Now add up our three products as they stand, and we get 56826. Let us take another illustration of the rule. Multiply 372 by 154. Multiplying 372 by 4 we get 372 1488. Then multiplying 372 by 154 5 we get 1860, which we write under the 1488, but one place to 1488 the left, so that the units of the 1860 second product stand under the 372 tens of the first. Finally multiply 372 by 1 and 57288 write the product under the pre- ceding product, but so that, as before, units come under tens, and so on. Now add up the three products as they stand. The result is 57288, which is the re- quired product of the two factors 372 and 154. We may express this result thus : 372 x 154 = 57288. IV. The First Step in Singing. We are writing with some reference to solitary students. It is to be hoped that many who study these chapters will have the help of a teacher, either in class or privately, in their first attempts. By all means let them have this, if circumstances favour. But in our lessons we shall always have in mind those who cannot obtain help, and who plod on by themselves, correcting their own mistakes, and finding their own way back if they wander from the straight road. There is no help like that of a living teacher, especially in an imi- tative art like music. But a word may be said for solitary study. It creates a habitof carefulness and of proving study, everything. Facts and rules to which the student has himself worked his way are burnt into his memorj'-, while the easily-received dis- course of a teacher is too often forgotten. Those who wish to teach themselves to sing (and the thing can certainly be done) ought to have some means of correcting their own first attempts, and for this purpose they may use a pianoforte or harmonium. Any one who knows the places of the notes C B A can sound them after the student’s voice in the following exercises. Smaller instruments may be helpful to some extent. A friend’s voice or his violin will give by far the best pattern; for the common piano or harmonium give the “ fifths ” rather flat and the “ thirds ” sharp. The whole structure of modern musie and of harmony is based on the fact that in every tune there is a certain central or key sound, on which aU the other sounds are attendant, and this (except in minor tunes, to be afterwards explained) we call Doh. This Doh m^y be a different sound in one tune from the Doh of another •‘■nT.,, tune. But whatever the sound of Doh, the other tones of the tune stand always in the same relation to it. High tones are those which reach towards what is commonly known as the squeak. Low tones are those which reach towards the growl. Doh may be high in one tune and low in another. Soon we shall show how to fix the height or lowness of Doh; at present it is enough that the learner should be able to sound a high tone of his voice, a middle tone, and a low tone. Let him practise to do this. The relations to Doh, which the ear and voice have to recognize and learn, are both few and simple. Only let the first steps be carefully taken, and all the rest is easy. Ex. I. — The student sings a tone in the lower part of his voice to Doh, and « « « . „ immediately after sings a tone at a certain distance (called a fifth) above it. MUSIC. 127 Let him call this new tone Soh. This exercise may be verified on the pianoforte thus : — The imagination of the solitary student may be made to help his ear and voice, if we de- scribe Soli as brighter than Doh. When we represent them by colours we make Doh blue and Soh red. When we represent them by shapes Doh is a strong square, The aid of standing on one of its sides, and imagination. jg the same standing on one of its corners. When we represent them by hand-signs Doh is a firmly-clenched fist, and Soh is an open hand with the thumb pointing upward. But i\\e j/attern must be heard first. Imagination can only help to fix the relation on the memory when it has once been heard. The effort to make the two tones sound well together, or “ in good tune ” with one another, will be helpful. The vibrations of Soh should strike the ear every second time that those of Doh strike it. They strike very often together. The piano and harmonium give this interval more flat and dull than it should be. The voice and the violin are more perfect and true in their intonation. The student will not be perfect in this ex- ercise until he can take any sound as Doh., and strike from his own feeling, without the help of a teacher or the piano, the Soh above it. The pitch of the Doh on the piano is of no consequence. It is the relationship of the Doh to the Soh that he must think of. After the first pattern, in no case should the Soh be sounded on the piano until after the student has attempted to sound it. If this is done before, the value of the exercise is nil. Ex. II. — The student now must learn a tone “M.e ” between Z^cAand Soh, called Me. Let these exercises be sung and verified : To help imagination let us call Me the calm tone. In the use of hand- signs we represent it by an open hand with the palm down, as though asking for quiet. At every fourth vibration of Doh the vibrations of Me strike in with it. Its true intonation is a little flatter and sweeter than that which the piano gives. Ex. III. — Now let the following exercises be sung. If the student has learnt the sounds of Soh and Me in relation to Doh, the help of the piano will not be necessary. The staff nota- tion, therefore, is not given. Change the pitch of Doh each time : a. Doh Soh j\re Soh Doh. b. Doh Me Soh Me Doh. c. Doh Me Doh Soh Me. d. Doh Soh Doh Me Soh. Try now to conjure up in your mind an image of Me and Soh and Doh. See if your ears cannot distinguish them, as your eyes distiDguish the faces of your friends. Ihink ot them wholly apart from any of the notes of the piano, and only as related to each other. The “ nearest relation of three tones ” has now been established in voice and ear. At every fourth vibration of Doh, Me and Soh strike with it — Me striking its fifth vibration and Soh its sixth, Soh having already struck with Doh at Doh's second vibration. Tones thus related are called a major common chord. The musical scale is made up of three such chords. Ex. IV. — The student now recognizes and sounds the new Doh's, Me's and Soli's that are repeated above and below those already learnt The upper- ^ IS distinguished by a dash at the right-hand upper corner, thus — Dold. The same with Me^ and Sold. On the other hand, the lower notes have a dash below — as Do\, Me^, Solly The following exercises are to be sung. The staff notation is given for the first two : — i a. Doh Me Soh Doh’ Doh’ Soh Me Doh h. Doh Me Doh Sohj Me Soh Sohi Doh Doh‘ Soh Me Doh e. Doh Sohi Doh Me Soh Me Doh. . d. Doh Soh Me Soh Doh Doh’ Me Soh. These exercises may be multiplied to any extent by the use of the diagram at the side. Let the notes on it be sung in every variety of order. In future exercises, instead of Doh, Me, and Soh being written in full, their initial letters d, m, and s will be used. So far we have dealt only with Tune. The sounds we have sung have only differed from each other in being higher or lower, or in their relationship to the governing sound Doh. There are, however, other respects in which sounds can differ, the chief of which are Accent, or stress, and Time, or duration. In speaking these words— “awful thunder resounds,” we make some syllables heavy and Accent some light ; we give stress to some, and pass lightly over others. Musie is in this respect like speech, with the exception that its accents occur regularly, while those of speech are irregular. In speech, a word like “ thunder,” with stress on the first syllable, may be followed by a word like “ resounds,” with stress on the second, and this may be followed by a word like “ triumphant,” with stress on the middle syllable. In music, on the other hand, whatever accent is adopted is adhered to, as in poetry — “ Softly sweet in Lydian measure,” 128 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. or “ Awake my soul, and with the sun.” Rule . — A note that beam stress or accent has a jicrpendicular line before it ( | ), one that bears only a wcah stress or accent has a colon (:). Ex. V. — Sing the follo'wing, first to doh, and then to the words, noticing how the verbal and musical accents correspond : — I d : d I d : d I d : dj| Wei -come, brave north-eas - ter, : d I d : d I d : d I d H ,, To arms, to arms, ye brave. In these cases the strong and weak accents are alternate, but in the following cases two weak accents follow each strong accent. I : : I : : I : : [I Laughter we find a ne-cess - i - ty. : I : : I : : I || I sprang to the stirrup, a - way. : : I : : I : 1| There is not in this wide world. The distance from one strong accent to the next is called a measure. The distance from “•D 1 i» A accent of any sort to another “measur^’ called a pnlse. When the accent is thus — strong weak, strong weak — it is two-pulse measure ; when it is thus — strong weak weak, strong w’eak weak — it is three-pulse meamre. A tune may begin at the second or third pulse of a measure, as well as at the first. See the above examples; Sometimes a measure is spoken of as a bar, but we prefer to reserve that word for the per- pendicular line which separates measures. A double bar denotes the close of a tune or section. QUEEN Elizabeth’s vikginal. When a tone is continued from one i^ulse into the next, -we mark the continua- tion by a horizontal line ( — ). Continued and When a pulse is divided into ® halves, we place a dot in the middle of it ( I • :). We now give some exercises which embrace these new points. “Key C” or “Key D” mean that Doh is a low tone of the voice. “KeyG” or “Key F” mean that Doh is a middle tone of the voice. Ex. YI. KEY C. Slotcly, — and quickly. il' : m s : s d .in : d .m s m : s d' : d‘ d' .s : d» 3 1 m (id : d m : m d .d : m .s m d : m m : m d : — The above exercise is in two parts — that is, the two lines of notes are intended to be sung together. The brace at the beginning binding the two lines together shows this. The student, if he has no companion, may sing first one line and then the other. Ex. VII. KEY D. Slotdy,— and quickly. d .m : m | d .m : ; m s : s m m . s : s m . s ; : s d> : s d> 1 d :d |d : d d . m ; ; m 1 d m : m m : m m . 3 : 3 m [ The above exercise introduces a slight independence between the parts, which must be care- fully observed. Ex. VIII. KEY G. Slowly, — and quickly. ( Si d :ni .d 3| :d m : d 3 : m d : Sj .d m : d 3 : Si d i 8l mjimj.inj nijmjrmj Si : d Si :si mi :mi.Si d.d :d mi :si mi PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 129 IV. Peoportions op Land and Water. An estimate of the entire superficies of the globe places it at about 197,000,000 of square miles, of which very little more than one- quarter is occupied by land, estimated at nearly .51,000,000, of which 37,000,000 are in the Eastern hemisphere, and 14,000,000 in the Western. In the former, the preponderance of land is to the north of the equator ; in the latter it is more equally divided. Taking the entire surface of the globe into account, only a very' little more than one-quarter of the whole extent of land is to the south of the equator. It has been remarked as a fact, which English- men, at any rate, may note with satisfaction, LONDON' RELATIVE PEOPOETIOX OF LAND IX N that if a globe on which the superficial features of the earth are delineated is turned so that the greatest mass of land is visible, it will be found that London is as nearly Centre of the possible the centre of the land masses, hemisphere so brought into view ; and, remarks Paofessor Geikie, “ no doubt this central position has not been without its influence in fostering the progress of British commerce.” This may not be an unquestioned result, our commerce being chiefly by ocean communications and with coast districts ; but this is a matter with which we are not at the present concerned. It is more to the purpose that a view of the two hemispheres of the earth’s surface, of one of which London, and of the other its antipodes, is the centre, con- veys the most accurate idea of the relative proportions of land and water, as shown in the accompanying diagrams. It must be remembered that those portions of the earth’s surface described as land are _ only those parts which are above e sea eve . surface of the sea, that great watery envelope — if we may use the term — which, not sufficient in quantity to cover the VOL. I. whole surface of the globe, reaches only to a certain height, and covers formations similar to those which are left exposed to view. Be- neath the sea are mountains, valleys, ridges of elevated land, and extensive plains. The mean height of the surface of the dry land does not exceed oneffifteenth of the mean depth of the bed of the ocean. There are inland seas, once parts of the great ocean, but now isolated by convulsions of nature, which have thrown up barriers of elevated land ; and fresh water seas, formed by the waters of great rivers spread over tracts of low land, having very limited communication with the ocean, the water making its way thither and that lost by evaporation about balancing the perpetual increment from the river systems ; and there are vast districts, no doubt once covered by the ocean, now by a change of level, either in themselves or their surroundings, sandy deserts, the sea having long since left them dry, and no rivers discharging into them. Extensive masses of the earth’s surface above tTHEEX AND SOUTHERN HEMISPHERES. the existing level of the sea are known as continents ; but if the sea level were raised one or two thousand Consequences feet higher, it is evident that some continental mountainous districts would be changed into archipelagos, or clusters of islands, and a comparatively slight rise would make broad oceans where are now extensive plains. The familiar aspect of • a tract of low-lying land, when “the floods are out,” when a meadow becomes a lake, and the slightly rising ground is an island, may help us to realize to some extent the condition of the globe if the sea level were materially raised. In Europe, Holland, the greater part of Germany, and nearly the whole of Eussia would have disappeared ; the mountains of Norway would assume the character of long ridges, with innumerable islands ; the great Alpine ranges of the south, the Pyrenees, the Apennines, the Carpathians and Balkans, and their offshoots, would tower above a waste of waters ; and Britain would assume the shape of an irregular crescent, enclosing a bay covering the low- lands of me eastern and midland counties. That part of northern Africa now generally known 9 133 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. as the Sahara would be a huge bay o£ the At- i lantic, with the Atlas district for a lofty rugged peninsula dividing it from the Mediterranean. Similar changes, which can readily be imagined, would be effected on the other great continents, and many large and innumerable small islands would disappear altogether from the map. One ' writer on physical geography asserts that an ocean rise of 1,800 feet would submerge at least three-fourths of the existing area of land. Changes equally remarkable would occur were any considerable diminution of the quantity of water to take place, so as to reduce the level a few hundred feet below what it is at present. Tracts now islands would be joined together, forming continents, and new islands would appear, in the form of mountain peaks and ridges now submerged. Existing bays and inlets would be transformed into valleys, and the coasts of low-lying countries would be fringed with alluvial deposits, brought down by the great rivers, now carried away by ocean currents, but which, by the recession of the sea, would form enormous deltas, like those of the Nile, the Mississippi, the Ganges, and the Orinoco. It has been stated on good authority, as the result of knowledge of the depth of the sea , - , afforded by careful soundings. Depth of the ^ ^ygj.g reduced by ocean. jittle more than 1,(X)0 feet, dry laud would occupy the place of the Baltic, the German Ocean, the British and Irish Channels, and the Bay of Biscay, and the Mediterranean would be converted into a salt lake, with a bar across the entrance at Gibraltar. It is a matter of ascertained fact that consi- derable changes of the sea-level have occurred and are in continual operation. In the articles on Geology, the subject of “ ancient sea-margins ” will be dealt with, and it is only necessary here to refer to a few instances in illustration. The traces of such beaches are very apparent in Wales and Scotland (especially in the latter country, where the “ parallel roads of Glenroy ” are very interesting) ; and on the south coast of England, near Plymouth and Falmouth; in the province of Finmark (in the northern part of Norway), and in the Val de Noto, in Sicily. Remarkable ancient beaches can be traced in the valley of Lima, South America, at an eleva- tion of 700 feet above the present sea level ; and in the Arctic regions, on the coast of Kennedy Channel, between Greenland and the American continent, is a vast flight of forty-one terraced steps, 480 feet in total height, com- mencing at lat. 70° N., and continued to the “great glacier” north of Grindel Land. Even within quite recent times great changes have taken place on the coast of England, the sea having receded at some points and encroached at others. Similar changes have been noted at various places on the continent of Europe, and, indeed, in many other parts. It would appear to be almost certain that wherever, even at considerable distances inland, far removed from the sea, there Cuani ridges, j^^g chalk escarpments, over- booking comparatively level country, as in Kent, Surrey, and Sussex, they were at some remote I time cliffs bounding a sea, which has washed away the surface of the lower laud. Two forces of a contrary character are con- stantly at work varying the conformation of the coast-lines. The sea is continually undermining and washing away the softer rocks, and so forming breaches by which it enters to submerge low° lying districts; and the tide-currents also sweep along the coast, bearing in suspension a vast quantity of matter which is finally deposited in eddies, and thus harbours are silted up, sand- banks, shingle deposits and land-spits formed, and bars at the mouths of rivers increased. Another consequence of the action of the sea is, that when the coast is low and the bottom sandy, the waves carry forward the sand, which becomes dry at Sandhills, every reflux of the tide. As the habitual direc- tion of the wind is from the sea, the loose particles are farther conveyed inland, forming hillocks around stones and bushes, which in- crease into sand-hills, and are known as “ dunes.” These sandy hills, which have changed fertile districts into sterile wastes, are particularly noticeable on some parts of the coast of Scotland ; in Wexford, Ireland ; on some parts of the coast of Denmark ; and the west coast of France, washed by the Bay of Biscay. The other force in constant operation is that of many of the great rivers, which deposit ' alluvial matter brought from the Inland districts through which Deltas, they flow. Careful observation of the accumula- tions at the mouths of some of the great rivers warrants the calculation that the Ganges deposits annually about 634,500,000 tons of solid matter, the Mississippi nearly 292,700,000 tons, and the Ira wadi, in Burmah, more than 182,000,000 tons. Through these accumulations the river forces its way to the sea by many channels, forming what is known as a delta, from the approach in form to the Greek letter A, so named. The general plan of a delta is exhi- bited in the accompanying sketch of the various branches through which the Ganges reaches the sea. THE DELTA OP THE GANGES. Near the sea, the accumulations form the marshy and terribly unhealthy district known as the Sunderbunds, extending over a space of 160 miles. The sea front of the delta of the Nile is about 200 miles in length. In Europe, the delta formed by the united Rhone, Meuse, and Moselle constitutes the whole of the ANCIENT HISTORY. 13] Netherlands. The Hoang- Ho, traversing the great alluvial plain of China, is supposed to bring down 2,000,000 cubic feet of earth every hour. The Mississippi, a rapid stream, annually washes away many thousands of acres of land on the banks, with the growth of timber, which is carried to the sea, where it adds to the accu- mulations already existing, and arrests the progress of other matter, earthy and vegetable, some of which might otherwise have been carried out to sea. In the course of forty years, timber, estimated to contain 250,000,000 cubic feet, and popularly known as “ the raft of Atchefayala,” was accumulated on the Missis- sippi delta, which now has an area of over 14.000 square miles. It will be interesting, as illustrating the action of the sea on the coast, if, limiting ourselves to historic times, some of the more remarkable encroachments in Europe of which there are authentic records are noted. In the ninth century considerable changes were effected on the coast of Brittany : valleys were inundated, and seaside villages destroyed. In 1100 a large tract of fertile land on the coast of Kent was inundated, forming the well-known Goodwin sands. In the thirteenth and four- teenth centuries there were very destructive irruptions of the Baltic on the coast of Pome- rania. About 1280, about fifty market-towns and villages were engulfed near the mouth of the Ems, between Groningen and East Fries- land. Nearly at the same time the isthmus which united Holland with Friesland was swept away, and the great inland lake (recently reclaimed), the Zuider Zee, formed. In 1303 a great part of Rugen and many villages on the coast of Pomerania were en^lfed. In 1421 a district named Bergesweld, in Holland, containing twenty-two villages, was covered by the sea, which formed the large sheet of water the Bies-bosch, extending from Gertrui- denberg to the isle of Dordrecht. In 1634 the sea swept away nine-tenths of the island of Nordstrand, off the south-west coast of the duchy of Schleswig; 6,400 persons and more than 50,000 head of cattle perished. We are all familiar with the fact that the greater part of Holland is preserved from destruction only by the maintenance of massive dykes and embankments, which are sometimes broken away, Avith terrible results — as in 1530, when 400.000 lives were lost ; and on the English coasts, especially on the eastern side of the island, many villages have been submerged, and places which two or three centuries ago were several miles inland, are now close to the sea. In many places the softer rocks have been washed away, leaving pillars and irregularly- - - , shaped fragments ; caves have axso roc . scooped out by the action of the waves, and the lower portions of chalk cHffs having been Avashed aAA^ay, in the course of time the overhanging upper parts fell in fragmentary masses, forming what is known in the Isle of Wight and other places as the “undercliff,” which resists the further action of the sea, and in course of ages becomes covered Avith a thin soil, so adding to the area of the land. IV. The decadence of Ur Avas apparently hastened by the invasion of Elamites, a people of Avarlike disposition settled on the eastern side of the Tigris. A chronological Elanute record prepared by Assurbanipal, an Assyrian king who reigned in the scA^enth century B.C., gives the date of 2280 B.C., as that of an invasion of Babylonia by Kudur-nanhundi, an Elamite prince, but the date is uncertain, and other inscriptions mention irruptions in the country by Elamite chiefs bearing the same, or a very similar name. For a short time the city of Erich became the seat of supreme power, perhaps with Elamite rulers, of whom several are mentioned — among them Kudur-lagamar, who is evidently identical Avith the “ Chedorlaomer, king of Elam,” who with “ Amraphel, king of Shinar (the Amurpel of the inscriptions), and “ Arioch, king of Ellasar,” made war against the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah and other kings who had been his viceroys or vassals, as recorded in Genesis xiv. ^ The supremacy of Erich was of short dura- tion, and a ncAv dynasty AA^as established at Karrak, to which the former pow- ei-ful kingdoms of Ur and Erich Kmgdom of became subordinate. The king- dom of Karrak lasted for about three hundred years, and the names of four of the monarchs are preserved in the inscriptions — Gamil-Adar (or Gamal-Ninip), Libit-nana, Ismi-Dagon, and his son Gungunnuv. In its turn Karrak appears to have given Avay to another kingdom, that of Larsa. It is possible indeed that the two states AA'ere partly contemporaneous, for of those Avere certainly turbulent I-arsa. times, and most kingdoms rose and fell or became alternately subordinate, and the re- cords are too fi-agmentaiy to enable the modern investigator to ascertain Avith any near ap- proach to precision the chronological se- quence of events. Four kings of Larsa are mentioned in the inscriptions, but there are blanks in the list which might have been filled by the names of each of the four others. The names recorded are those of Nur-Rimmon (“ Rimmon ” AA'as another name of Vul, god of the air), Gasin, Sin-Idina (“ Sin” was one of the forms of the name of the moon-god ; other forms, “ Agu ” and “ Aku, ” being found in the name of the first king mentioned), and Risa- Agu, or Eni-Acu. The last-named monarch Avas the son of Kudur-Mabuk, the last king of the Elamite dynasty, Avhose father, Simti-Silkak, appears to have added Larsa to his dominions. Kudur-mabuk obtained possession of the cities of Nipur and Esidu, and gave them to his son Rim-Agu, Avho assumed the title of King of Larsa. The ambitious father, who seems to have been a bold and unscrupulous 132 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. AvaiTior. then, with his son, conquered the northern part of Babylon, subduing a queen whose name appears as Ku- gala, or Durgala. The conquests were then extended westwards, and the title of lord of Syria ” was assumed by Kudur-Mabuk, but it is very uncertain what territory was described under that name. For about thirty years the father and son ruled over these exten- sive dominions, and were almost as distinguished for the public works they carried out, as for military achievements. They repaired many of the great temples and built others, fortified towns, and constructed canals. The inscriptions, architectural remains, cylindrical seals, and other memorials of their reign, whieh have been preserved, prove the existence of considerable artistic skill. The reign of Kim-Agu ended with the conquest of the whole country by Khammuragas, or Hammurabi, of whom more hereafter. As yet we have mentioned only the cities and kingdoms in the south part of the Euphrates valley. The country north of Nipur was pro- bably the Akkad, or Agane of the inscrip- tions. The chief cities were Babylon, or Bah-ili, “ the gate of the gods,” Ca-demirra in the old Turanian tongue ; Borsippa, to the south-west ; AUliad the capital, before Ba- bylon rose into im- portance ; Kim and Harrisltalama, united cities, near Babylon, and Cutlia, farther east. Six monarchs are mentioned, but their dates and succes- sion have not been discovered. The last was Ellat-Gulu, a queen, who was, per- haps, identical with the queen Ku-gala mentioned above as having been subdued by Kudur-mabuk and his son. It is almost certain that the king- dom of Agane came to an end nearly at the same time as that of Larsa, about 1700 B.C., when the successful Hammurabi became master of the entire countiy. The art of cuneiform writing appears to have been nearly perfected in that part of the country, and we are enabled to ascertain some of the leading events of its history with a considerable approach to accuracy. The Babylonian and Assyeian Empiees. It is advisable, at this point, to recur to the Bibhcal narrative, and point out some analogies ASSYRIAN LION WSIGHI. BABYLONIAN CYLINDERS, REPRESENTING TOWER BUILDING AND SACRED TREE. between it and the legends relating to the myth- ical period of Babylonian history brought to light by recent re- Thelzdhub^ search. The tenth chapter of Genesis fa genealogical chapter of great value) mentions Nimrod as the son of Cush, one of the sons of Ham, and consequently fourth in descent from Noah. He is described with great emphasis as “a mighty hunter before the Loi’d. . . . And the be- ginning of his kingdom was Babel, and Erech, and Accad, and Calneh, in the land of Shinar.” Shinar, it may be noted, was one of the Hebrew names applied, as Chal- dea was, to the whole region we are treating of ; and the mention of Ereeh would seem to imply that Nimrod's power in those remote times extended con- siderably farther south than Babylon. The few words of description quoted realize with striking etfect the figure of a chief of great phy- sical power and enterprise, who distinguished himself as a hunter of beasts, and achieved supremacy among half-savage and scattered tribes by his superior prowess and enter- prise— a true man of the material of which in primitive times kings were made, subduing weaker rivals, and es- tablishing strongholds, or cities, as they are generally styled. Mr. George Smith dis- covered among the mythical legends in- scribed on clay tablets, one referring to the adventures of Izdhu- bar, whom he supposes to have been identical with Nimrod, who de- livered the city of Erech from a predatory warrior who had at- tacked it, conquered the queen, Ishtar, and held the place in sub- jection for three years. Out of gratitude Ishtar, famous for her beauty and licentiousness, offered to marry her deliverer. The legend describes her as ^^htax and having been previously the con- ammuz. sort of Dum-uzi, Tamzi, or Tammuz, the Adonis of the later mythologies, whose death was so elaborately and licentiously celebrated by the Phoenicians, and mourned, as the pro- phet Ezekiel tells us, by some of the Israel- itish women who “ at the gate of the Lord’s house sat weeping for Tammuz.” Milton refers to the river Adonis, which flov^ rapidly from the slope of Lebanon to the sea, in a cavern near which Tammuz, or Adonis, was supposed to have been killed ; — ANCIENT HISTORY. 133 “ Smooth Adonis from thy native rock Ban purple to the sea, suffused with blood Of Tammuz yearly wounded.” We mentioix this incidentally as an illustra- tion of the connexion between Babylonian and later mythologies, respecting which we sliall have more to say when sketching the histories of Egypt, Phoenicia, and Greece. Izdhubar rejected the marital offer of Queen Ishtar, pre- ferring, it would seem, to annex her dominions. He made a triumphal entry into Erech, where it is averred in the legend he met with Hasisa- dra (the Biblical Noah), who related to him the story of the Flood, the tablets recording which are now in the British Museum, have been translated, and corroborate in a remarkable manner the narrative in the book of Genesis. Recurring to the fragmentary history revealed by the inscriptions, in which, as in all histories of primitive nations in remote The reign of ^jmes, there is a large admixture of myth, one king of Agane, or Upper Babylonia, Sargon, appears as a conspicuous figure. (The Scriptural Sar- gon, “ king of Assyria,” referred to by Isaiah and in the Second Book of Kings, the father of Sen- nacherib, lived at least a thousand years later.) In the legendary biography of the great king there is this resem- blance to the story of Moses, — that he was placed by his mother in an “ark,” or float- ing cradle made of rushes, covered with bitumen, and left to the mercy of the current of the river Euphrates. He was not, like Moses, found and adopted by a princess, but the stream carried him to the hut of Akki, a fisherman or water-carrier, who trained him to labour. In due time the youth was discovered to be the true heir to the throne, and, in what manner is not recorded, obtained the rightful position, and assumed the name of “ Sargon, the rightful king.” The inscriptions which relate so much of his story are probably of much later date ; but other inscriptions seem to be contemporaneous, or nearly so, and may be taken as authentic. He was a warlike and enterprising monarch, defeated the Elam- ites who threatened his dominions on the eastern side. He attacked the Hittites, or Syrians (the “ Khatti ” of the inscriptions), whom he subdued, and soon afterwards became the dominant sovereign of the whole of Babylonia. By a series of victoiies he extended his do- minions to the shores of the Mediterranean, Internal dissensions for a time interfered with his course of prosperity. His own subjects, perhaps labouring under heavy burdens imposed by his many warlike expeditions, PEAGMENTS OF THE FLOOD TABLETS IX THE BEITISH MUSEDM. revolted, and even besieged him in his capital, Agane ; but the king made a sortie, and effectu- ally routed the insurgents. He then recom- menced his career of conquest, invaded the highlands of Mesopotamia, ravaged the country, destroyed the towns, and returned to his capital laden with the spoils of victory. As a civil ruler he appears to have been as energetic as in his warlike character. He rebuilt the city of Agane, or Akkad, established there a great library (the books being clay tablets and cylinders, on which were imprinted the cunei- form characters of exquisite regularity and beauty), famous for works on astrology and astronomy, especially the book known as the “Illumination of Bel,” which Berosus translated into Greek, and copies of which were after- wards made for the royal libraries of Assyria. He reigned for about forty-five years, and ex- tended his kingdom by reducing the princes of adjacent lands to a tributary state, from the Persian Gulf to the Mediterranean. As with other great conquerors, Alexander, Charlemagne, and Napoleon, 0 the empire he had 'It - d constructed fell to pieces shortly after his death : tributary princes revolted, and, al- though his son and successor Naram-Sin in- herited some of his father’s energy and ability, and even extended his conquests proba- bly to the penin- sula of Sinai, be- sides completing some of the tem- ples left unfin- ished, he was, with the exception of the queen Eilat- Gulu, respect- ing whom nothing certain is known, the last independent monarch of Agane, or Upper Babylon. Another prominent figure now (about 1700 B.c.) appears upon the scene — Kham- - muragas (“the Begetter”), or Hammurabi, as it is written on^^® some of the later inscriptions, appears to have been a prince of the Kassa, or Elamite people, and the dynasty he founded in Babylonia is recognized as the Kassite line, which, it is thought, may have been identical with the Arabian dynasty men- tioned by Berosus. He appears to have con- quered the Babylonian kingdom, and then to have extended his arms soutliward and overrun the kingdom of Larsa. It is probable that some of the minor princes subdued by Sargon accepted his aid to shake off the yoke, but only, as it proved, to be compelled to submit to anotlier. The new king, supremo over all the territory from the northern Mesopotamian hills to the Persian Gulf, fixed his capital at Baby- lon, and erected many temples and constructed other important works, especially canals, and Khammuragas, , or Hammurabi. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. i;54 an embankment built along the banks of the Tigris, to pre^Wt the injury done to cities by inundations. He restoj'ed the great temple Mite-urris, or Mite-tassak (as it is read by some decipherers), at Kisa, on the east of Babylon, now repre- sented by the mounds of Hymer : rebuilt other temples, and built the city of Kara-samas, on the Tigris. Of Babylon, the capital, as it existed in his time, very few traces remain ; the later and more famous city was at the summit of its grandeur many centuiies later, and will be described when we are dealing with the annals of the seventh century before the Christian era. The reign of Khammuragas lasted for eleven or twelve years, and he was succeeded by Samsu-iluna (“ the sun is our god ”), probably his son, of whose achieve- ments, beyond the construction of a great canal, the restoration of decayed cities, and the dedication of images overlaid with gold to the patron divinities of the country", little is recorded. Subsequent monarchs are named, but for several centuries the history is a blank. The Declensions of Nouns in Latin. in the second declension, that end in iis in the nominative, and make the vocative in e — as dominns, a lord ; vocative, Bomine, 0 Lord. THE first declension. The nominative singular of nouns of the first declension ends in a, which ai-e feminine, except wlien they denote males, as scriba, a scribe. Singular. N. mnsa a song V. musa 0 song A. mnsam a song G. musae of a song D. musae to or for a song A. musa by or with a song Plural. N. musae songs V. musae 0 songs A. musas songs G. musarum of songs D. musis to or for songs A. musis by or with songs Greek substantives, ending in e, as, es, when used in Latin are thus declined : — Feminine. N. epitome an abridgment V. epitome O abridgment A. epitomen an abridgment G. epitomes of an abridgment D. epitomae to an abridgment A. epitome by an abridgment We now come to the declension of the Latin nouns — that is, the various forms of the case endings which Latin nouns a.^snmc according to their variovs senses. There are live classes of declension, distinguished from each other by the endings of the genitive case singular: for example, a noun of the first declension has its genitive case ending in re (pronounced like ee), as the noun mnsa, a song, is said to belong to the first declension, ])ecause it makes its geni- tive case singular to end in re, which is substi- tuted for the nominative ending in a, so mnsa, nominative case, becomes in the genitive case muses. The second declension makes its genitive case to end in I — i.e., it changes the last syllable of the nominative into I, as dominns, a lord, is said to belong to the second declen- sion, because it changes the case ending of the nominative ns in dominns into i, as domini. The third declension makes its genitive case singular to end in %s ; the fourth declension makes its genitive case singular to end in us ; and the fifth makes its genitive case to end in ei (to be pronounced astv/o distinct syllables in this way, e-i, not as one syllable). Observe care- fully these rules in all declensions : that many of the neuter nouns have the nominative, voca- tive and accusative cases alike in each number, but in the plural these cases always end in d, and in the singular generally in nm ; that in all declensions the dative and ablative cases in the plural are alike. The vocative is the same as the nominative case, except in the singular number of nouns JildscnUnc. N. .Eneas (proper name) V. Enea O iEneas A. Enean (or am) an .^neas G. Eneae of ^neas D. Eneae to or for ^Eneas A. Enea by .Eneas jdascnline. N. Anchises V. Anchise (a, a) A. Anchlsen (am) G. Anchisae D. Anohlsae A. Anchise (a) (proper name) O Anchises Anchises of Anchises to Anchises by Anchises The dative and ablative, plural of some feminine words of the first declension end in abns — as deabns, from dea, a goddess, iromfilia, a daughter — to distinguish them from the corresponding masculine forms of the second declension, as Dels (or Bis), dative plural of Bens, a god, filiis, dative plural of Jilins, a son. The following words (to be learned by heart) are declined like musa : — Hasta,/. a spear Aura, f. a breeze Vita,/. life Aquila,/. an eagle Flamma, f. a flame Luna,/. the moon Aqua,/. water BOTANY. 135 Unda,/. a wave Mensa, /. a table Stella,/. a star Puella,/. a girl Lingua,/ the tongue Observe — m. stands for masculine, f. for feminine, and n. for neuter. Questions for Self-Examination and Exercises. What do you mean by the declension of Latin nouns? How many declensions are there ? How are they distinguished from each other ? If a Latin noun ends in i, or if in ei in the genitive singular, to what declension do you refer it in each case ? What kind of nouns make three cases alike ? and what cases are these ? What cases in the plural are always alike ? What two cases in the singular are most generally alike? What two ways are there of determining the gender of a noun of the first declension ? To what gender do words of the first declension generally belong ? and with what exception ? Give some examples. Decline musa in the singular and plural. Decline the Greek nouns epitome, Anchises^ and JEneas. When do nouns of the first declension make the dative and ablative plural to end in ahus instead of the regular is ? and give examples. Write out the vocabulary of words to be declined like musa, with the English of all their cases. Translate into English : — Musarum, musis, musa, epitomen, scribam, deabus, .^ne^, Anchisen, filiabus, hastis, aquarum, aurae, vitam, aquilae, mensa, puellis, linguarum, lunam, flammae, hujus musae, his musis, huic scribae, his deabus, hanc jEneam, hoc Anchise, hac hasta, hujus aquae, his vitis, hanc puellam, hanc flammam, his linguis, huic puellae. O musa, O flammje, mensa puellae, linguae puellarum, aura vitae, de hac vita, ante hanc auram vitae, propter hanc flammam, coram has flammas scribae. In hac mensS, hujus puellae. In has flammas harum musarum. Ante has flammas hujus lunae. Hanc vitam aquilae. Penes hanc puellam. Circiter has mensas musarum. De his vitis harum puellarum. De his hastis harum musarum. Penes hunc JEneam. Translate into Latin : — To songs, by a song, for songs, to a spear, from a spear, for spears, the breeze (acc.), to breezes, to- goddesses, for daughters, by an epitome, by the moon, to waters, of waves, the tongue of the girl, 0 stars, to flowers, with spears, tongues (acc.), girl (acc.), 6 iEneas, by spears. On account of the song of this girl. These breezes of life. By these spears of the muses. Around these flames of these stars. In the power of these girls. Through these flames of these daughters. According to these stars of these muses. On account of these breezes of this life. Into the flames of these stars. In the power of these eagles. Towards this moon. Beneath these waters. Above this life. Upon this tongue of this girl. Through these flames. Beneath this moon. Above these waters of the muses. 0 stars above this moon 1 The internal stracture of the stem of an exogenous plant — say, in general tenns, of any shrub or tree which has branches, and which likewise has the leaves Internal s^c- filled with a network of veins— is remarkably cm-ious and inter- esting. To understand it, take first a young summer shoot of the common Elder, or a stalk of the Jerusalem artichoke, and with a sharp knife cut it transversely, so as to obtain a cross or horizontal section. Cut another portion lengthwise, as nearly as possible down the middle. The interior is found to contain a quantity of light and colourless cellular tissue, constituting the “ pith.” Encircling the pith there is a thin layer of fibrous matter ; and outside of all there is skin or cuticle. This triple composition exists in eveiy portion of the stem and branches of the exogenous fabric, extending to the remotest and slenderest twig ; but as the plant advances in age, in the older or earliest produced parts the pith gradually disappears, and in a stem or branch of many years’ growth, when the sections are taken, in the horizontal one there is only a centra.1 dot, and in the longitudinal one only a nan'ow streak of dried-up tissue. But how wonderful an accre- tion of new substance ! Instead of a thin and simple layer of fibre around the axis of gi owth, now there is wood ; and where at first there was only a delicate green cuticle, now there is bark. Of course this change is not to be looked for in annual stems, such as those of the Arti- choke ; it is best declared, indeed, in such as are not remarkable in their youth for copious pith. Ordinarily, the horizontal section of a stem or branch of several years’ gi’owth, when smoothened, and most particularly when po- lished, presents the appearance represented in fig. 24, though the markings are by no means so mathematically exact. The cut is designed to show the theoretically perfect structure, supposing eveiything were developed with the utmost regularity and uniformity. Now and then, in actual nature, there is a fair approxi- mation to it; but, accomplished as our great instructress, maternal natu]-e, is as a mathema- tician, in the stems of trees, at all events, we must not look either for the aecuracy of the compasses, or for absolutely straight lines. It is to the human eye that we turn for the sweet perfection of the circle ; and to spars and crys- tals for the consummate gcomctiy that shows so exquisitely what may be accomplished by simple unswerving movement from point to point. The spot in the centre of the diagram (fig. 24) indicates the locality of the pith, and of such remains of it as may endure. 4'he concentric rings indicate encircling layers or cylinders of wood; and the dark boundary stands for the bark. A vertical section, lig. 23, shows perpendicular lines exactly corres])onding with the circles. The concentric layer s oi' wood 136 THE UNIVEJRSAL INSTRVCTOR. are understood to be a register of the annual increase, a new layer being deposited during the progress of every summer and autumn, or contemporaneously in deciduous plants, with the existence and energetic action of the leaves. As a rule, no doubt this is the fact ; but there are several curious exceptions to the assumed intimate agreement of the number of rings with the number of years the stem or branch has been growing ; so that, although in most cases the age may be considered to be faithfully recorded by these pretty circles, the law must not be declared absolute and unimpeachable. Beautiful ex- amples are supplied by the stem of the common larch-tree, the Bobinia, the laburnum, and the yew. The more evenly the tree has been developed upon all sides, the more exact will be the regularity of the rings. If through any of the many ad- verse circumstances which inter- fere with regular wood-deposit, the layers on one side, though still continuous, are much thinner, then the axis, or pith-dot, becomes excentric, and in the horizontal section is found thrown nearly to the margin. This indeed is by far the most frequent con- dition. Observe, in the next place, the rays which proceed from the pith-dot to the cir- cumference. These indicate vertical planes of pith-cells, by means of which an organic com- munication is kept up between the inner and outer parts of the stem while still young. They are tenned, on this account, the “medullary rays,” m^edulla being Latin for pith. Very good examples are supplied in the stems of the horn- beam and the laburnum. Here the stu- dent may be earnestly re- commended to* commence forthwith the getting toge- ther of a little collection of wb 0 d - s c c - tions, both horizontaland vertical. The lopped trees of the hedgerow and the forest, the cutting down of timber for economic use, the yards of the timber merchants, the raw material in the carpenter’s and cabinet-maker’s workshop — all may be looked to as supplying opportunities for obtaining valuable and very beautiful specimens, interesting not only be- cakise of their instructiveness in regard to plant-stmcture, but as objects that in point of rich diversity of colour and markings quite deserve to be compared with sea-shells, and to be classed with works of art as parlour orna- ments. Like sea-shells, also, they endure for ever. The day, perhaps, will come when they SKCTIOX OF AMT FXDO- GENOUS STEM. FIG. 23 .— SECTIOX, IN PART, OF AN EXOGENOUS STEM. will be accorded their rightful place alongside of porcelain, bronzes, and statuettes. When decrepit, large trees are often more or less hollow. By this time the whole of the living action of the trunk has become transferred to the portion immediately beneath the bark. Hence it is that the venerable monarehs of the forest are still able to elothe themselves, when the “ time of the singing of birds ” ap- proaches, with new foliage ; and that, although a thousand years old, they never absolutely cease to flower and bear fruit. Charming is it to see the acorns, though only three or four, drop from the green boughs of an immemorial oak — image, exact in all points, of the serene and generous en- thusiasm in good works whieh characterises the noble-hearted and God-fearing old man. The finest feature in a great history is found, not in the beginning, but in the finish. In the great division of flower- ing plants ealled the Endogens or Monocotyledons, the stem is formed differently. Instead of possess- ^senous . . . -I > • T stems, mg distinct pith, concentric cylm- ders of wood, and a separable bark, the sub- stance is in every part nearly similar, the woody matter being dispersed among the cellular, as represented in fig. 22. Practically, in England, we have little concern with this kind of stem, there being no endogenous trees in countries outside the tropics, excepting the inconsider- able Chamaerops, and very few endogenous shrubs. The only examples of ligneous endo- gens that can endure the open air in Britain are the Cha- in aerops ; cer- tain species of Euseus, one of which, the common But- chers’ Broom, is accounted indigenous; and some of the singular plants fami- liar in good gardens under the name of Yucca. To acquire ideas of what endo- genous trees are like, it is needful to visit the conservatory, where they are found in the shape of the Indian and Brazilian palms, with others from the warm islands of the South Pacific. Not that every specimen of palm in conservatory cultivation is a tree ; far from it. No evergreens are more delightfully suitable for decorative purposes than palms while still in their childhood. Hence, while at their youngest, they are now a chief ingredient in every well-fumished greenhouse and hothouse ; their perennial and arching plumes asserting calmly, at every season, after the manner of BOTANY. 137 the evergreen ferns, what men are, unhappily, slow to believe, — the inexpressible superiority of graceful form and contour over mere vivid- ness of hue. Bright colour — almost always, in the very nature of things, transitory, and therefore seductive — the palms never affect. They are like the pure white marble goddesses that discourse to us of the faith of Homer, satisfying, in their unadorned queenliness, both eye and imagination. In lofty buildings, such as the palm-houses at Kew, Chatsworth, and Edinburgh, these illustrious plants attain considerable stature. Even here, however, they are never seen (ex- cept as regards the dwarfer kinds) full grown, the potential altitude of the tallest being greater than can be provided for in any edifice of iron and glass. Sections of palm-stems brought from foreign countries are extremely beautiful. They are occasionally procurable at the cabinet-makers’, the wood being in some cases adapted for inlay- work. The stems of the smaller kinds of endogenous plants, such fig. 24.— tbansvebse section of as lilies, may very usefully be exogenous wood, studied in section, if it be borne in mina that they are only what the summer elder-shoot is to the branch, thirty years old, of an elm or an ash. The best way to obtain practical acquaintance with endogenous stem- growth is to raise some Indian corn upon a EXOGENOUS WOOD, SHOWING THE GEOWTH OP NINE YE AES- said, is that either in its own native and spontaneous productions, or in the adapted- ness of its climate — neither too hot nor too cold, for the culture of the instructive plants — we are supplied with the grammar and lexicon of every description of serviceable knowledge. Not only is this true in regard to botany: as from the forum in ancient Eome streets struck away towards every part of the empire, so in Old England we may start pro- fitably for any destination we desire, in any department of science. There is not a country in the world where geology and mineralogy may be better stu- died, or that is richer in fossils, or more abounding in all that is delightful to an ornithologist. Many of the ferns indigenous to the countries of the southern hemisphere elevate their majestic foli- Stems of tree- age upon pillars so like the stems of palm-trees, that without scrutiny they would be supposed identical in the inside. The stems of these “ tree-ferns,” so called — plants very common in English greenhouses — are con- stituted, however, of little more than the bases of the huge leaf-stalks curiously knit together and consolidated ; the great green tufted crown, as it slowly ascends, year by year, leaving behind it annually a few inches more of what maybe likened to a growing spiral column. FIG. 25. — EXOGENOUS PLANT. hotbed, transferring it to the open border when strong enough, and cutting down and dissecting a plant every fortnight. The grasses, to which family of plants the Indian corn belongs,, ordinarily have hollow stems, as well exemplified in common straw. In the sugar- cane (another true grass) and in Indian corn, in curious exception, the stem is solid, and thus, so far as an annual stem can interpret an endogen, we are fortunately provided with a ready teacher. One of the grandest charac- teristics of Old England, as we have already The scars or stumps of the departed leaves are always vertical, whereas in Palms the scars are always, or usually, horizontal. The ligneous matter deposited in these curious fern-pillars presents, in the cross-cut section, very cha- racteristic curving patterns, foreshadowed in the familiar and very pretty design discover- able in the lowermost portion of the stalk of the common Bracken when cut slantwise, and compared sometimes to the outline of a sturdy oak, sometimes to the spread-eagle of Germany. -138 2 HE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. IV. Terms Explained. Historical Sketch of THE Language. § 28. “ Dialect.” § 29. “ Vocabulary.” §30. “Philology.” § 31. English a mixed tongue. § 32. Why not a Romance language ? § 33. Ancient Britons. Keltic and Latin. § 31. Settlements of the Jutes, Sa.xons and Angles. § 28. Dialect (Greek dialcUos, a speaking between). — A dialect is a local speech which varies from that spoken by others of the same community; thus we have the Sussex and the Yorkshire dialects or varieties of English. When the word is employed, as it often is, to denote what we commonly understand as inde- pendent languages, it is intended to convey the sense that those languages are, or have been, varieties within one community. For example, Italian, French, Spanish, etc., are frequently spoken of as the “ llomance dialects,” meaning thereby that they were all originally various forms of one speech, and had definite family features. On the same principle, each one of those languages, treated as a unit, may have dialects within itself; the French, for example, having Norman, Picard, and Burgundian. § 2^ Vocahularxj (Latin voco., I call ; Low Latin vocahularium^. — A vocable is that spoken by the voice, a word; whence vocabulary is a collection of words. It is used in a personal sense, as meaning the stock of words that a speaker has at his command in daily use ; he does not use all the words in the language, but his choice, conscious or unconscious, is affected and restricted by his life and pursuits. So also the members of a profession or of a given trade will have special words adapted to their needs. We can speak of the “ vocabulary of American rural industry,” as well as of the “ vocabulary of Milton,” or “ of Shakespere,” or we may say of a friend that “ he has not a large vocabulary” in conversation. This is the sense used in gram- mar. Besides this subjective meaning of the term, there is the objective one of a list of words with short explanations, a kind of dic- tionary, — the difference being that a vocabulary is usually understood to bear the restricted sense of a collection of words of a special or local character. Sometimes, too, it means a short dictionary for a special object, as the Latin vocabulary at the end of a boy’s lesson-book. A vocabulary differs from a dialect in that it deals with words and terms only; a dialect embraces words and syntax, or their relations to one another. § 30. Philology (Gr. phUos, loving, logos, word). — This, though the name of a science rather than a strictly grammatical term, comes so often under the notice of a student of language^ that what it implies should be considered. “ Comparative philology” is some- times used as synonymous with “ comparative grammar,” the study of languages by means of comparison and affinity. But, originally. Philology, the “ love of words,” confined itself to the classical languages of Greece and Borne, concerning itself not only with the study of their grammar and rhetoric, but with the his- tory, poetry and literature of those countries ; in short, it comprised a general knowledge of classics. In this sense it is still understood on the Continent : a professor of philology in Ger- many — although that countiy is the native home of the science of words on a broader basis — is still understood to be one who teaches the subjects lying within the scope of Latin and Greek criticism. Even in America philo- logy is defined as “ the science of the culture of a given racial or historical division of mankind.” I {Ripley and Dana's American Encyclopcedia^ j The term is, however, in this country gene- [ rally taken in a larger sense. The Philological Society, on its foundation in 1812, laid down, as the first object proposed for its attention, “the investigation of the structure, the affinities, and the history of languages,” to which “ the illustration of the classical writers of Greece and Rome ” was indeed added, but has always remained subordinate. Owing, in great part, to the labours of this Society and their friends. Philology now stands for the science of lan- guages in general ; inquiries into the history, derivation, and details of any language, its life and changes, come within its ken ; but it leaves to other lines the care for literature, history, and the rest. The range of such a j science is indeed wide enough, but it thus pos- sesses a unity wanting to it before. Historical Shetch of the English Language-. § 31. Our language we call English, without too much troubling ourselves as to what that word means ; we use a variety of vocables, longer and shorter, to express the infinitude of shades of meaning, without a question arising I that we may be passing the currency of some other tongue. Yet we are great debtors to other languages, particularly to I^atin and French ; and if we use their words without re- cognizing that they are foreigners, it is because they have become naturalized and have put on in some sort an English dress. They remain none the less foreigners in their origin, and in the history of English it becomes highly im- portant to take count of the fact from the outset. Not only have we borrowed words, but parts of words — that is. our word-formation has been largely affected by the use of the Romance languages. The proportion in which these elements enter into our language has been stated somewhat differently. Archbp. Trench roughly estimates the Latin, French, and Greek at thirty-five out of a hundred parts, giving five parts to the various other lan- guages ; while Dr. Morris has it that “ words of classical origin are calculated to be about twice as numerous as pure English words.” The exact proportion is difficult to fix : as it differs acording to the bases on which the cal- % f ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 139 culations are made, this does not here signify; we get sight of the main fact that English of the present day is a mixed language, clepend- ing solely upon strangers for its vocabulary. No less than eighteen languages, perhaps more, have contributed of their store to oui- wealth of words, but of this outside element by far the greater share has come to us from the Latin and French. § 32. In the last chapter it was pointed out that English belongs to the Teutonic family of languages, and more particularly that it finds its brothers among the Low-German group of that family. But, it may be asked. If there is so lai-ge an infusion of the French and Latin element, why is not English said to belong to the Romance family, in which those two find their relations ? I will endeavour to answer this question,— by an outline of the history of the language ; secondly, by a short examination of the use which we make of its constituent parts. § 33. The story of the English language is really the story of the English people. Looking back into the history of our island, we recall that it was peopled, when we have first any certain knowledge of it, by a Keltic race — the | ancient Britons ; that they were conquered by the Romans, whose occupation lasted iiere nearly four hundred years. The Britons gradu- ally adopted the dress and modes of life of their masters : they spoke Latin, towns were built, roads made, and Roman civilization was brought into this Province of the empire; the people were christianized, and a floiuish- ing British or Roman-British Church became established. But the foundations of the English language were not yet begun in Britain, and of all this long British and Roman period (about | five hundred years) only a small number of word-relics tell us of the languages spoken in this island before the arrival of our forefathers. The principal of these are — i Latin : castm, a camp ; colonia, a colony ; portus, a port ; and strata^ a street. The first passed into ceastre among the old English, and we find it still in the names of fortified places, such as Chester, Manchester, Doncaster, Lan- caster, etc. ; the second is found in Lincoln ; the third in Portsmouth ; the fourth became dti'cet, our street, and is found in Stratton, Stratford, etc. Keltic (found in writings of ninth to twelfth centuries) : hrock (a badger), karrom (a mound), breeches, clout, cradle, crock, crook, glen, kiln, mattock. Many of the names of places, too, are Keltic, particularly those of rivers and mountains. ‘‘ The river-names,” says the Rev. Isaac Taylor, “ more especially the names of important rivers, are everywhere the memorials of the very earliest races ; they seem to possess an almost indestructible vitality. . . . For anti- quity and immutability the names of mountains and lulls come next in value to the names of rivers.” The Avon, the Esk, the Axe, the Calder, the Don, for rivers; PenA\Qion, Pen%- hurst, Pt'«.tland hills, Ren Nevis, DundQQ, Dun- mow, Z>tt'/istable, th.' Tors of Devonshire and of Derbyshire, for hills and biU-fortresses, are a few out of a multitude ; while Ilfracombe, Combe Martin, and others, illustrate tlie old English form of the Keltic cwin, a valley, which is found in nearly its original form in the verse of the Cumberland poet Anderson, who sings — “There’s C?«>wwhittou, CMTOwhinton, Cimranton, CM/rtrangan, CVmrew, and Cwmcatch, And mony mair Oiuns i’ the county, But nin wi’ C«mdivock can match.” § 34. In the middle of the fifth century in- vading tribes began to come over from the low- lying lands of the Continent near the mouth of the Elbe, Friesland, and Sleswick ; the Roman power being weakened, they gradually obtained a footing in this country and made permanent settlements. It is thought that in the third century Teutonic tribes had occasionally made piratical descents on some of the coasts, but they do not appear to have then established themselves here. Three tribes — the Jutes, the Angles, and the Saxons — made successive in- vasions, and in the course of about a hundred years they conquered the larger part of Britain. They drove the ancient Keltic inhabitants into the west side of the island, into Wales, West- moreland, and Lancashire, and into Cornwall and Devon, calling them Welsh or foreigners, because they did not understand their speech : their descendants in Wales speak their own language to this day ; the Cornish tongue died out about the middle of last century, and is no longer spoken. Northwards, the victorious Angles pushed their settlements to the Firth of Forth, the Piets and the Scots retired be- fore them to the Highlands of Scotland, where the descendants of those Keltic tribes still speak the Gaelic (or Gaedelic, with a mute d') tongue. These conquering tribes were our forefathers ; they brought their language — which is our lan- guage — into the island from their old home ; some of them called themselves Englisc or English, and that part where the Angles set- tled they called Angla-land, whence the name England. The conquest made by them was very different to the conquer of the Britons by the Romans. The Britons seem to have lived peaceably under the yoke of their gover- nors, who were dwellers in towns, adopting their civilization and religion, but still remain- ing the prime occupiers of the land. The Teutonic tribes were rough and strong ; they disiJaced. if they did not exterminate, the old dwellers whom they found here, having little in common with them ; and they brought their own laws and their own heathen religion. A cui'ious antipathy between the Keltic and these northern Teutonic tribes operated to prevent the coalescing of the two peoples, such as took place in many other instances of invasion {e.g., the Romans in Gaul, or the Normans in Eng- land afterwards). They probably intermairied very little, and the Teutons disdained to learn much except geographical names from the language of those whom they deemed their inferiors. Thus it is that we have so few Keltic words, passed into the speech of the new- comers, surviving now. ]40 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. IV. With the second copy of fig. 5 a new element is introduced, this being a simple oval with a heavy downstroke side. This element alone forms the letter o, and enters into the com- position of a, d, q, and g. The letters c and e are produced from the left hand side of this form, the first by the addition ef a small crotchet and dot, and the latter by means of a loop ontherighthand. This element and the curves beneath have much to do with the beauty of penmanship, which depends mainly upon the delineation of the curves. Some curves are aesthetically prefer- able to others, and even a very important factor in beautiful penman- ship, occurring as it does — or should do — in most of the capitals and many of the small letters. He says : “ It is frequently made in- correctly by those who ought to know better. It can be divided into three parts ,, (see G, fig. 3, p. 112), which glide line of into each other. The central part oeauty. ’ has the slant of the rest of the writing, and also contains the principal thickness ; the^ipper and lower parts curve respectively to the right and the left. The proper adjustment of these three parts, in direction and thickness of line, is a matter for the nicest taste ; the upper por- tion being a smaller part of a larger curve than the lower one ; and the thickness being some- what greater in the lower than in the upper half. Various other delicacies regarding this curve, with the reasons for them, might be stated. . ^ . . In fact, beauty of penman- ship depends upon a variety of delicacies which cannot be stated the uneducated eye is conscious of this fact, JV W W_ W M-— words, and which, although not able to ox- fig. 4. — KLKMENTAEY FOEMS. plain it. Thus the ogee and cyma recta, etc., of the Greek architects are much more pleasing in contour than those of the Romans. This superiority is due to the fact that the latter are based upon circular forms, and the former upon those that are elliptical. Curves which partake of the elliptical character are more beau- tiful than those pro- duced from circles, and the former are almost invariably used by na- ture in the animal and vegetable kingdoms. The next elementary form is a right line, commencing square, and tapering after it has passed the general line upon which the writing rests. It then forms a terminal loop and as- cends by a hair-line sweep. This forms, with the addition of a dot above, the letter j. It also enters into the com- position of g and y, and forms the lower portion of the long Its inver- find the above analysis sion gives the upper j-iq., 5^ — elemextaev foems. portion of / and long s. This letter bears some resemblance to a portion of Hogarth’s celebrated “ line of beauty,” and singly, are scarcely ap- preciable to the com- mon eye, though their united effect would be universally acknow- ledged.” In arranging the forms of letters we may divide the small ones into three general classes. The first consists of those letters which are formed of a right line with either an upward curve at the bottom only, as ?/, t, I, b, or one at both ends, as VI, 71, h, p, 7J, V, TV, 7\ The second class con- sists of those formed of the oval, or a portion thereof, only, or the oval combined with a right line, as o, e, e ; a, d, q, g. The curved upstroke of b, v and w has the same outline as J_ _ _ the right hand side of the < 1 , which brings them to that degree under the second class. The third class embraces those whose anomalies exclude them from the other two, as x, s, f, z and k. The pupil will forms with the oval the picturesque element of writing. The line of beauty or double curve is, as was long since pointed out by Mr. Grant, useful as he progresses. The consideration alike of the elements and classification of the capitals may be judiciously deferred until the pupil is well grounded in the small letters, through the different gradations of sizes ex- hibited by the various hands. FRENCH GRAMMAR. 141 The first step to be taken by the pupil is to rule his copybook or sheet of paper carefully with lines of the same distance Runng lines, 2, allowing an interval of a quarter of an inch between each set of double lines intended for a line of writing. He can then practise the simple right line shown at A, fig. 2. This should be persisted in until the line can be struck at one motion of the fingers only, the line being kept of equal breadth throughout, and" beginning and ending square and distinct. No “ patch- ing ” or “ painting ” must on any account be resorted to, nor any motion of the arm to each single stroke. If any difficulty be felt as to securing the proper angle, it will be easy for the scholar to rule some diagonal lines to assist him ; but these should be dispensed with as early as practicable. It may seem that the dimensions of these strokes exceed any that will be required in actual work. Such is the case, and the reason for it is that practice on tlis large scale is invaluable in securing that 9 ” FAMOUS AUTOGRAPHS : GUIDO FAWKES, QUEEN ANNE, AND EICHAED III. freedom of hand which is especially to be de - siderated. When the pupil can succeed in g, , writing a line of these strokes ® perfect in form and set at equal distances, he may proceed to the second copy (c, fig. 2). This consists of an upward hair-stroke followed by a curve and right line. It will be well to rule a third horizontal line in this case as a guide to the commencement of the hair- line. Great care must at first be taken that the tapering-off of the right line at the curve is accomplished sweetly and without abruptness. The next copy slip is simply the reversal of the last, the hair-line occurring at the end of the form in place of at the beginning. This will present no difficulty to the student who has mastered the two immediately preceding forms. The oval shown at D, fig. 2, is produced by a -eries of double hooks similar to those shown. The persistent practice of these forms in the size given for some time will form an excellent foundation. The same forms may then be practised in smaller size — say in lines about three-quarters of an inch asunder, as shown at figs. 4 and .5, with addition of the oval. In our next paper we will enter upon the considera- tion of the various “ hands.” ' The Article {continued'). — Theory. 1. It has been shown (Lesson III., p, 74) that when the noun is taken in a partitive sense — that is, when it expresses a part of a whole, as. 1 have bread, thou hast nuts (which mean I have a portion of all the bread that is made, thou hast a quantity of all the nuts that grow)—i{, is preceded, agreeably to its gender and number, by du, de la, de V or des. There are three cases where the article is omitted, and the preposition ae (or d' before a vowel or h mute) alone retained. These cases are : When an adjective precedes the partitive noun : When an adverb of quantity precedes the partitive noun ; When the proposition is negative. We shall examine these three cases in turn. 2. When an adjective precedes the partitive noun de (or d;) is put before the adjective. The natural tendency of the French language is to place adjectives after nouns. The follow- ing, however, are generally placed before, and thus will offer an application of the rule handsome. bon, good, kind. Cher, dear. grand, great, large. ^’OS, big, stout. jeune, young. joli, pretty. mauvais, had. meilleur, better. naoindre, lesser. petit, small, little. saint, holy. vieux, old. vilain, nasty. ExamjAcs. J’ai DU pain, I have bread ; j’ai de beau pain, I have fine bread. As-tu DE LA viande ? hast thou meat ? as-tu DE bonne viande ? hast thou good meat ? II a DE L’eau. he has water ; il a D’excel- lente * eau, he has excellent mater. A-t-elle DES cerises? has she any cherries? a-t-elle de grosses cerises ? has she big cherries ? .3, Note that if the adjective is placed after the partitive noun, the article must be retained along with the preposition : nous avons du yain bis, we have brown bread ; avez-vous de la viande fratche ? have you any fresh meat ? Us ont de Veau claire, they have clear water ; ont-ellcs des cerises blanches? have they any white cherries ? Distinguish also, from the very beginning, between these two construc- tions ; achetez de jolie dentelle, and achetez de lajolie dentelle. The first merely implies that pretty lace should be bought, whereas the second points to the fact that more than one kind of lace could be obtained, and that some of the pretty lace is to be purchased. Other example : mangez-vous de bonnes jtommes de terre? are you eating good potatoes? mangez- vous des bonnes pommes de terre? are you eating some of the good potatoes ? 4. When an adverb of quantity governs the * This shows the elasticity of the rule concerning the place of adjectives ! 142 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. noun, de is placed between the two terms. In such a position the adverb might be looked upon as an indefinite numeral adjective, re- (piiring, unlike real adjectives, the prepo- sition de before the noun which it qualifies. Here is the list of those adverbs : ASSEz, enoitgh, never placed after the noun in French; thus, enough mmtard or mnxtard enough — assez DE moutarde; assez de clous de girofle, cloves enough. XVTX'ST, as m^lch, as many: autant d’ amour, as mtich love; autant D’ennemis que n’amis, as many foes as friends. BEAUcoup, much, many : heaucoup n’honneur, much honour; heaucoup D’homieurs, many honours; heaucoup de helles paroles, many pretty speeches. COMBiEX, how much, how many ; comhien de peine on a a Clever ses enfants ! how much trouble one has to bring up one's children! comhien D ’ enfants ont- ils? how many children have they? DAVANTAGE, more; davantage DE terme (Malherhe), more time; davantage d ’ ennuis (Do.), more dis- gusts; davantage de palmes (Do.), more palms. This use of davantage is becoming obsolete. GUEEE, not much, not many, hardly any, is accompanied by the sign of the negative il N’a guere de voix, he has not much voice ;il N’y a guere de gens tout a fait d^sinteresses, there are hardly any quite unselfish people. Moi.vs, less, fewer: moins de courage et moins de SHOCKS, less courage and fewer successes. PEU, little, few : nous avonspeu de fortune, mais peu DE besoins, we have little wealth, but few wants. PLUS, more: plus de bonheur que D’esprit, more luck than wit; plus DE coups que DE gros sous, more blows than penny pieces. QUE (in exclamations), how much, how many: que D’esprit! how clever'! que D’esprits, how many minds ! For its force in comparisons cf. autant and PLUS above. TANX, so mioch, so many: tant de haine, so much hatred; tant de revers, so many reverses. XEOP, too much, too many : trop D’ameriuine, too much bitterness: trop D’amandes, too many almonds. Although too, when used alone, is rendered by trop, as too kind = trop aimable, never translate t-oo much by trop beaucoup ; nor so much, hoio much, as much, by si beaucoup, comment beaucoup, aussi beaucoup; say, tant, combien, autant. Trop peu, too little, too few, how'ever, is correct. 5. Note that after bien, much, many, the article is retained along with the preposition: bien de j.' argent, much money ; bien des richesses, much wealth. (Yet we should say bien "D’autres, many others, bien de riches campagnes, many rich fields ; this is due to the presence of the adjectives autres and riches, in accord- ance with Rule 2.) Mark well also how the article is re-introduced when the substantive governed by the adverb of quantity is no longer but definite. Partitive sense :yeM’a4pZws guere D’«mjs, I have scai’cely any more friends ; definite sense : je n'ai jdus guere DES amis que vous m'avez connu, I have scarcely any more of the friends whom you have known me pos- sessed of. fi. When the proposition is negative, the article disappears before the partitive noun, and de (or d') alone is retained : Jean a DU pain, John has bread; Jean n’a pas DE pain, Jolui has no bread. Jeanne a de la viande, Jane has meat; Jeanne n’a pas de viande, Jane has no meat. 11s ont DE L’eau, they have water ; n’ont-ils pas D’eau ? have they no water ? Ont-elles des cerises ? have they cherries ? ellcs n’ont pas de cerises, they have no cherries. 7. Note that if partitive nouns in negative proposi- tions are followed by some adjective proposition— any word in fact which completes their meaning — they re- take the article. So, ,/e ne vous ferai point de reproches, I shall make you no i eproaches : but, fe ne vous ferai pas des reproches frivoles, I shall not make any frivolous rei)roaches to you ; tu n'as pas dJ argent, tliou hast no money, but, tu n'as pas de Vargent pour le depenser follenlent, thou hast not money to spend it foolishly ; il ne fait pas de vers, he writes no poetry, but, il nefiit pas I t* [ d‘ — II HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 161 The imagination may help the self-teacher if he tries to think of Ray as the Eousing, or, when low in pitch, the Prayerful tone ; and of Te as the Piercing tone, or, as it is often called, “ the tone sensible." In our manual signs the open hand with spread fingers and palm facing outwards rejjresents i?«y, and the forefinger pointing upwards represents Te. Note that Soli Te Ray'^ form a major common chord, having exactly the same “nearest relations of three tones” which Doh Me Soh have. The following is an exercise upon the tones now learnt. It should be sung frequently ; — KEY F. { I d : s^ I m : d { I s, : r I ti : s, Chord 1 r : tj I d : I Dj ; m I d : Sj Exercise. I s : m I d : m 1 Si : s I m : d I r :s, Is, } Id :t, Id II We return for a moment to the subject of Time. In music of a quicker speed than that we have noticed, two two-pulse measures Four-pulse and often turned into one four- sxx-pulse pulse measure, in the middle of measures. is an accent neither strong nor weak, called therefore medium. Analogous to this in speech are the words “momentary,” “ planetary,” etc. Similarly, two three-pulse measures are turned into one six-pulse measure, having in its middle part a medium accent. Analogous to this are the words “ spirituality,” “immutability,” etc. The sign for a medium accent is a slwrt upright line. 'A silent pulse is indicated by the absence of a note ; the space in front of its Silent pulses, accent-mark stands empty. A pulse is divided into quarters by placing a comma (,) between the accent mark and the point which divides ^Irisions of it into halves. ^ The exercises which follow include the new points just explained. In practising them the student, if he lias no teacher, should correct himself by using a metronome or time measurer, such as is sold at the music shops. The ticks of an old-fashioned eight-day clock will serve for this purpose. Each tick be- gins a pulse, so that a two-pulse Time, tone lasts during two ticks, while half-pulse I tones are two to a tick. Time is to many I singers the most troublesome part of musical study, and accuracy in first exercises is highly 1 important. Four-pulse Measure. KEY D. id :r|m :dj8 :mlr : — Id ;r|m :s|m trjd : — * 1 I 1 :4 zr Six-pulse Measure. KEY F. Is : m : d 1 r : : Sj -^4 : m : d I r ; — : d ^5^ V. During his residence in the Wartburg, Luther was troubled at times with fits of despond- ency ; and he was induced at last to leave his Patmos by intelligence that convinced him of the approach of troublous times. Among the reformers at Wittenberg Dr. Carlstadt had distinguished himself by zeal without discre- , . tion. Unfixed in principles, and F^aticwm of extravagant in imagination, Carl- ■ stadt was far more able to pull down than to build up. Luther, whose turn of mind was conservative, and who wished only to remove what he considered as blemishes and excrescences in the Church, heard with deep displeasure that Carlstadt had joined the fana- tical “prophets of Zwickau,” and was preaching a crusade against church ceremonies, and es- pecially against pictures and images in churches. The Zwdekau prophets and their followers, ignorant and violent men, did not, like Luther and his compeers, aim at a reformation of the existing Church by improvement in its services and doctrines — but looked forward to the for- mation of a visionary community of saints, the gathering together of an elect congregation from among the ruins of the old Church, a brotherhood whose vocation it should be to prepare the world for the advent of the millen- nium or the thousand years of Christ’s visible rule on earth. The idea that a sacrament with- out faith had no significance induced them to reject infant baptism, substituting for it the baptism of adults, — whence their name Ana- 152 TUE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. baptists. With regard to the Eucharist espe- cially, Carlstadt’s teachings were > V 1- i. entirely opposed to those of Anabaptists. Luther. As the doctrines of the anabaptists became more generally diffused, they developed into new and in many cases extravagant regulations; and various sects arose, among whom community of goods, the renun- ciation of civil dignities, and the prohibition of war and of the use of weapons was general. In one sect, characterized by wild excesses — that of Munster — a j^erverted application of patriarchal usages to modern times led to the sanctioning of polygamy ; but this was an ex- ceptional case, not followed by the mass of the anabaptists. Then it was that Luther raised his voice most impressively against the extra- vagant, unwarrantable spirit of innovation that e^ibited itself in the indiscriminate de- struction of church property, and similar freaks of fanaticism. “ Do notconvertliberty into violence,” he solemnly warned his hearers in his daily sermons at Witten- berg, whither he had hurried to put an end to the confusion. ISIothing can come of violence and tyranny but pretence, outward show, and the aping of religion. Let us first seek to move the heart. Wherever the heart and the mind of all are not moved, there leave it to God ; ye cannot do any good.” He wished the Keformation to develope itself gra- dually and peacefully ; for he w'as not a man “ given to change,” nor did he advocate the abolition of anything not manifestly con- trary to Holy Writ, sure his wishes were became the centre of the intellectual activity of Gennany ; and Luther dwelt there in safety, though Adrian VI., the new pope, vehemently demanded that the Edict of Worms against him and his followers should be carried into effect. The Humanists, or promoters of edu- cation, and all the educated youth of Gei-many, were loudly in favour Pryessofthe^f Keformation, which they onna on. considered as a struggle for the religious and |oolitical freedom of their country. The translation of the Bible, begun at the Wartburg, was published in a complete fonn in 1.534 ; even in the literature of the people, in the popular songs and satirical lampoons that circulated in taverns and at fairs, the oppo- nents of the movement were turned into ridi- cule ; and Hans Sachs, the cobbler bard ” of Nuremberg, greeted Luther by the title of the IHE BIBLE OF THE EEFOEMATIOX. And in a great mea- fulfilled. Wittenberg “ Nightingale of Wittenberg, that announced the coming of spring.” The Elector of Saxony and the resolute and energetic Philip of Hesse had been the first The Refor- of the German princes to adopt the Keformation and its pnnci-Genni princes, pies ; various other potentates now joined the movement, and thus the Re- formation spread onward and upward in Ger- many from the hearth to the throne. Among the citizens especially, and pre-eminently in the imperial free cities, the Eefonnation was universally popular. A national hymnary lent its aid to the cause, — many a secular tune, familiar in the mouths of the people, being wedded to a sacred text, and sung in the churches by the congregations, who refused longer to remain silent spectators of a mass performed in an unknown tongue. Thus, to the tune of the old popular song, “Stras- burg, I must forsake thee,” was sung the hymn “ My God, ITl ne’er forsake Thee,” and the hymns of the old Saxon Sternholds ” served to rouse a fer- vent and even a fierce enthusiasm in the heart of Gei-many. Luther himself contributed some noble songs to the German hymnary, notably the noble lyric which quickly became the rallying song of his followers, breath- ing the very spirit of the strength in which they fought : Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott, Ein’ gute Wehr und Waffen” (Our God He is a for- tress strong, A good defence and weapon). Adrian VI., a re- forming pope, anxious to abate simony, the sale of indulgences, and the other scandals of the Church, died after a short tenure of power ; and in his successor, the Medicean Clement VII,, the Reformation found an astute, energetic and Clement yn. unwearied opponent. Through i^oraa^n. his influence the rulers of Austria and Bavaria, in conjunction with the ma- jority of the bishops of Southern Germany, entered into the confederation of Ratisbon, binding themselves to resist the introduction of the Wittenberg innovations in their lands, John “the Constant,” of Saxony, and Philip “ the Magnanimous,” of Hesse, replied by the counter confederation of Torgau, whereby certain princes and imperial cities pledged them- selves to united action in opposing every attack on the freedom of the gospel. They pressed for a conference at Speyer. The Emperor Charles at first forbade the meeting; but afterwards, when the affairs of Italy had induced him to HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 153 quarrel with the pope, he consented to it. This division in Germany, at so important a crisis, was fraught with lamentable conse- quences to the peace and progress of the nation. Those who looked with distrust and even with hatred upon the Eeformation, as subver- sive of legitimate authority and The peasant established order of things, confirmed in their opposi- tion by the events of the Peasant War. The condition of the peasantry had been growing worse for the last century, and at length became unendurable. In the frequent wars between the princes and lords, the peasant was “ between hammer and anvil,” plundered and oppressed by both the contending sides. Serfdom in its heaviest form, — increase of taxa- tion to support the growing luxury of courts and palaces, denial of justice by the courts. Muller of Bulgenbach, a discharged soldier, and Thomas Miinzer, a fanatic anabaptist, went from place to place, stirring up the people and preaching the coming of a heavenly king- dom on earth, where rich and poor were to be equal, and there were to be no distinctions of rank. Hans Muller’s followers displayed a charter of twelve articles which they swore to maintain with the sword : abolition of serfdom, relief from the grievous burden of taxes, and the free preaching of the gospel, were the chief points on which they insisted. Through Fran- conia, and to the Odenwald and the Neckar, the insurrection was soon raging. George Metzler, a tavern-keeper, as ignorant and des- perate as Jack Cade, was here the leader of the movement. Into Swabia, Alsace and Thuringia the conflagration spread ; and the recklessness and ferocity of the peasants increased with their temporary successes. They put to death LUTHER AND HIS WIFE. where the influence of the nobles and knights was paramount, and the peasant was considered barely law-worthy, — at last drove the unhappy labourers to insurrection. They began to as- semble in tumultuous masses, and to form armed confederations. So long as these movements were partial, and confined to certain localities, they were easily put down ; but when with the Reformation the general cry for freedom and independence echoed through Germany, the peasants, who imagined “ evangelical freedom” was to take the form of exemption from all kinds of imposts and taxes, began to assemble in more formidable numbers and with a more definite purpose. After smouldering for more than two years, the flames of revolt at length burst forth simul- taneously in various parts of Germany, in 1625. In Southern Germany Balthasar Hubmaier of Ingolstadt, a preacher and professor, Hans the nobles who, like Count Helfenstein of Weinsberg, had resisted them. Miinzer, who was revered as a pro- Outrages by phet in Miihlhausen, declared he ® p€asantry. had girded himself with the sword of Gideon to establish a millennium, and incited his followers to destroy castles, convents, and even churches. Nor did the insurgents lack leaders of some skill and experience. Godfrey of Berlichingen, with the iron hand, Florian Geyer, and, at the earlier period of the movement, Francis of Sickingen, the most renowned of the fi’ce knights of Germany, favoured the movement, and put themselves at its head : and not a few of the smaller towns, which often suffered from the exactions of the iiTesponsible nobles, were on the same side. Luther had at first en- deavoured to control the outbreak, preaching moderation to both parties, rebuking the nobles for their tyranny and the peasants for their 154 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. turbulence. But when rapine and homicide disgraced the cause, he was deeply grieved that such deeds should be associated with religion. “ Be ye in the right as much as ye may,” he says in his Adunsnitwri to Peace, “ yet it becometh not Christians to quarrel and to fight, but to suffer wrong and bear evil.” “ Their doings and their victories cannot last long,” he declared ; and at length wrote vehe- mently against ‘‘ the robbing and murdering peasants.” The general alarm excited by the outrages of the peasants produced a powerful coalition of the princes and nobles of Germany against them. Plulip of Hesse and John of tSaxony led an aimy against the insurgents of Thuringia, scattered the undis- Theiru^r ciplined hordes of rustics at * Frankenhausen, tortured Thomas Munzer to death at Miihlhausen, and massacred numbers of the “ prophet’s ” deluded followers. A BEXEDICTINE MONK. Duke Antony of Lorraine killed seventeen thousand peasants in defiance of a proclaimed armistice. George of Frundsberg scattered the bands in the Black Forest, and the fugitives were hunted down like wild beasts ; and in- creased burdens and still more cruel oppression marked the revenge of the angiy nobles, who vowed that they would chastise with scorpions those whom their fathers had chastised with whips. Cruel and indiscriminate executions stmck terror into the hearts of the discomfited insurgents. Many blooming districts had been converted into deserts ; and the vengeance of the enraged proprietors was especially directed against the Lutherans, who were unjustly charged with having been the cause of the revolt, although the earlier confederations of peasants—for instance, that of “ Poor Conrad ” — had preceded the Lutheran movement. Luther’s marriage, vi 1525, with Catharina von Bora, who had been a nun, while he himself had been a I 1080 ; and 12 X 3 X 5 X 6 = 36 X 6X 6 = 180 X 6 = 1080. ARITHMETIC. 165 Just in the same way and fer the same reason we shall get the same result, whether we mul- tiply 90 by 12, or by the factors of 12, i.e. by 3 and 4 ; for 90 X 12 = 1080 ; and 90 X 3 X 4 = 270 X 4 = 1080. Note 4. — The effect of annexing a cypher to a number (i.e. writing 0 immediately to the right hand of it) is to multiply the number by 10. Thus, if I annex 0 to the number 75 I get 750, which is ten times 75. The student may convince himself that this is so by simply taking any number and multiplying it by 10. The reason of this is easily seen : for when we annex a 0 to any number, we thereby shift every figure of the number one place to the left, so that what were units now represent tens, tens represent hundreds, hundreds become thou- sands, and so on : and since every figure now represents ten times what it did before, the whole number is ten times what it was. Hence, as we have already observed (note 1), if multiplier or multiplicand, or both, end with a cypher or several cyphers, we omit them in working, and simply annex to our result so obtained as many O’s as we omitted. For example, to multiply 2,50(1 by 31,000, omit the two O’s of the multiplicand and the three O’s of the multiplier : we have 25 X 31 = 775, 2,.500 X 31,000 = 77,500,000. The following examples of multiplication are worked out to familiarise the student with the method. Multiply 35 63 521 by 22 14 37 70 252 3647 70 63 1563 770 882 19277 Exercises and Problems in Multiplication. 1. (a) Multiply 42 53 86 72 88 bj 61 19 23 13 63 (J) Multiply 426 487 703 854 827 by 13 32 51 70 89 (u) Multiply 807405 957834 976450 897654 by 14 33 52 71 Answers : {a) 2562, 1007, 1978, 936, 6.544. (6) 6638, 15581, 35853, .59780. 7.3603. (c) 11303670, 31608622, 60775400, 63733434. 2. Find the products in the following cases : — {a) 457 X 234 ; 674 X 246 ; 827 X 495 ; 456 X 375 ; 978 X 365. (6) 764 X 374 ; 573 X 459 ; 873 X 957 ; 674 X 893; 467 x 658. (c) 745 X 876; 798 X 974 ; 476 X 854 ; 654 X 327 ; 9.54 X 376. Answers : — (rt) 106938, 165804, 409365, 171000, 356970. {h) 285736, 263007, 835461, 601882, 300706. (c) 662620, 777252, 406504, 213858, 368704. 3. Find the product of the sum and dif- ference of 389 and 74 ; of 876 and 92 ; of 17 and 3000 ; of 88 and 66. Ans. 146846; 81312; 8999611 ; 3388. 4. A man left by will £1500 to each of his 7 sons £ 750 „ „ 3 daughters £ 100 „ „ 4 brothers £ 50 „ ,, 10 cousins. How much money did he leave altogether ? Ans. £136.50. 5. A farmer buys 237 head of cattle at £25 a head, and sells them after some months for £33 a head. How much did he gain on them ? Ans. £1896. 6. If a man works 9 hours a day every day in the year except Sundays, how many hours will he work in 17 years ? What difference would it make if he had only worked 5 hours on Saturdays ? Ans. (allowing for 4 leap years) 47926 hours ; difference 3536. 7. Supposing that there were in London 8,540 streets, in each of which there were 40 houses, and in each house 9 people, what would be the population of London? Ans. 3,074,400. 8. In the last problem, suppose that each household consists of 4 adults and 6 children, and that each adult spends £11 a year on clothes, and each child £5 a year, what would be the total expenditure on clothes in London ? Ans. Adults £15,030,400. Children £8,540,000. £23,570,400. 9. A carriage wheel, 212 inches in circum- ference, makes 1124 revolutions while the car- riage runs along a road. How many inches has the carriage travelled ? Ans. 238,288. 10. A man makes 23 strokes in one minute with the handle of a pump which lifts 3 pints of water at each stroke. How many pints will he raise if he work uniformly for one hour ? Ans. 4,140. Simple Division. Eejinition. — Simple Division is the method of finding how many times one number is con- tained in another — i.e. how many times a num- ber can be subtracted from another number. It is in fact a short way of repeatedly sub- tracting one number from another. The first number (which of course must be the smaller of the two) is called the Divisor ; the other number is called the Dividend ; and the number to be found is called the Quotient (from the Latin qnoties, meaning “how often”) because it answers the question how often is the smaller number contained in the larger? Thus, how often is 5 contained in 15 ? Answer : 3 times, because 5 can bo sub- tracted 3 times over from 15. For if we subtract 5 from 15, and then another 5 from the remainder 10, and then a third 6 from the remainder 5 there will remain nothing. Therefore we say 5 is contained exactly 3 times in 15. In this example 5 is the Divisor, 15 the Dividend, and 3 the Quotient. But it may happen that the Divisor is not contained an exact number of times in the Dividend. For instance 5 is contained only 3 times in 17, but there is a number remaining 156 THE UNIVEllSAL INSTRUCTOE. over, namely 2. In this case we say 5 is contained 3 times in 15, leaving a remainder 2 over. Now let ns take another example, and put the same reasoning into slightly different words. Suppose I ask whether 28 can be divided into a number of parts, each of which is 7, or how many sevens are there in 28 ? This is a question in Division ; and the sim- plest way to answer it — the way which would probably suggest itself to one who knew no- thing of the short cuts of division — would be to subtract 7 from 28 as many times as possible ; or in other words, to tell off 28 by sevens. We should probably say 7 from 28 leave 21, 7 from 21 leave 14, 7 from 14 leave 7, 7 from 7 leave 0. We should thus find that by 4 sub- tractions of 7 we exhaust the whole 28. Arithmeticans express this by saying that 7 is contained 4 times in 28 ; or that 28 divided by 7 gives a quotient 4. Now, in this example it happens that the dividend, 28, is completely exhausted by 4 sub- tractions. But if our dividend had been 30, then 4 subtractions of 7 would have still left a remainder 2. So that 30 divided by 7 gives a quotient 4 and a remainder 2. Alffe . — The sign (the sign of division and called “ divided by’’''), when placed between two numbers, means that the left-hand number is to be divided by the right-hand number (i.e. the first number is to be a dividend, and the second a divisor, and we are to find the quotient). Thus, instead of saying, as above, “ 28 divided by 7 gives a quotient 4 ” we can express the same fact by writing 28 7 = 4. N.B. — The student must make himself tho- roughly at home in the multiplication table before attempting division, as every step in* division is done by the aid of multiplication. Rules op Peonunciation. The Simple Yowels {continued'). § 24. a. /is pronounced like the English e in she. It varies in quantity, being long in ride., wrinkle, tige., stalk, rive, lively ; and more es- pecially when it has the circumflex, as in abvme (o.F. abisme) abyss ; ile (o. F. isle), island; dime (o. F. dixme or disme), tithe ; nous jinhms, we finished ; qvUil Jinit, that he might "finish. On the other hand, it is short in rite, rite, riche, rich, il rira, he will laugh ; mission, mission, vif, lively. This point is more fully treated in §29. b. When i comes after a and e, it loses its own sound (see §§ 31 and 36), which is restored to it fully by the diaeresis (see § 7), and very slightly in a liquid syllable. With o it forms the diphthong oi, which is pronounced oua : the •• restores to each letter its original sound : frere lai, lay brother {le), soeur laic, lay sister {le) — laique, lay {Id-ic). peine, pain {pene), reveil, awakening {vel) ; in this liquid syllable the i is but slightly audible and the I is mute ; see § 53. poll, animaTs hair — ail (o. F.) yes {6-il). c. /loses its sound when it is followed by ?a or n, with which it forms a nasal vowel (see § 43 &.) But i regains its original sound of the English e whenever m and n are doubled, or are followed by a vowel, or — in the case of in — by an h mute : impression {iin nasal), but immersion (ji-mer- sion). Iin, flax {in nasal), but inne, inborn {i-ne). image, image {i-mazhe). inhabile, unskilled {i-nabil). ingenu, candid {in-zhenu). inique, unjust {i-nik). inherent, inherent {i-neran). inhumain, barbarous {i-numain). § 25. a. 0 has an open sound like o in hot, and a close sound like o in hole. It is openaX, the beeinning of words : — oasis, cafib {6-uzts). obole, mite f>b6le). ode, ode {ode). or, gold {or), oolithe, oolite {b-Slite). os, bone or bones (5). oseraie osier plantation {ozere) oseille, sorrel {ozeilV, sec § 53). Yet odour, odour, oh ! oh ! oser, to dare, and osier, wicker, have the long o. b. 0, at the beginning or in the body of a word, if it be followed by m or n, is nasal (see § 46), but regains its original open sound when these letters are doubled or followed by a vowel : — ombre, shade {om-bre), but omelette, omelet b-melette). humbrc, ombre, a game {om-bre), but homme, man {bmrne). ondc, wave {on-de), but onh'eux, onerous {b-nereux). honte, shame {hon-te), but honnHe, honest {b-nete). c. In the body of a word o is open, unless it be followed by a soft s (see § 43 c) or a silent s : — abidcot, apricot {abi’icb). croc, hook {crb). galop, galop {gdlb). mort, death {mbr). noble, noble {nbble). votre, your {vbtre). Ecosse, Scotland (ecbssc). notion, notion {nb-sion), dos, back {do), rose, rose (rbze). Remark . — In the plurals abricots, crocs, o is close ; read therefore abricb, crb. An s added by inflexion has a tendency to affect the final vowel in the sense of broadening it, although it would be unsafe to give this as an absolute rule. M. Littrb, by his silence on the plural of escroc, galop, strop, lot, pot, allows the in- ference that the o should be open as in the FRENCH PRONUNCIATION. 157 singular. The Parisian’s tendency is to make both singular and plural close — in which he should be followed only from a distance. d. 0 at the end of a word is open : allegro, duo, echo, indigo, numero, zero. Should an s be added for the plural, the sound would remain unaltered, in contradiction to the rule given ih paragraph c of this section. e. 6 has the close sound of o in hole, as ah’eady mentioned : dome, cupola, hUel, rUir, to roast, le votre, yours. Hopital, hospital, is pronounced opital. § 26. U. It has been stated (see § 1 potash contained in the felspar is dissolved out by the rain and carried away, and the fine clay which remains is separated in the same manner from the quartz, mica, and other minerals. In a less pure form clay is obtained from the decomposition of other crystalline rocks, and from some such sources all the clays which are known have been derived in succes- sive geological periods. Under great pressure clay becomes hardened into shale, with a ten- dency to split into thin layers, as in the beds which lie above the coal measures. Loam is a mixture of clay and sand; and marl is a calca- reous clay — that is, with a mixtm’e of fr’om 10 to 60 or 70 per cent, of carbonate of lime. 3. Limestones and other Chemically and Or- ganically formed Rocks. Most of the rocks included in the first two groups are not in any way dependent for their consti-uction upon the existence of animal or vegetable life. If the globe had remained up to the present time untenanted by living crea- tures and unclothed by vegetation, there is not the slightest reason for supposing that their formation would have been interfered with. They are, as we have seen, mere aggregations of mineral matter derived from the destraction of pre-existing rocks. They frequently con- tain fossils, the sandstones more often showing only impressions. Clays are sometimes abun- dantly fossiliferous, but the essential features of such rocks are in no way connected Avith fossil remains or the life of which they are the memorials. It is far otherwise with the gi’eat bulk of the rocks included in the group now under consideration. An examination of them shows conclusively that their origin is due directly to the life processes of the animal and vegetable kingdoms. Chalk is a typical limestone, and being well known, will form a suitable illustration. cf- i. f Chemical analysis shows that it limMtonl consists of nearly pure carbonate of lime. Microscopically it is seen to be composed to a great extent of minute shells (foraminifera), still smaller bodies known as coccoliths, and believed to be the joints of a very minute alga (seaweed), and particles of carbonate of lime — probably frag- ments of shells. There are besides these numerous remains of fish, shells of molluscs, and other marine life. Other limestones of older and of later date exhibit a similar struc- ture, and the history of a limestone rock of marine origin is in its broad features pretty much the same in every case. The carbonate of lime dissolved in the ocean is taken up by those plants which require it for their strac- ture, such as nullipores and corallines. The Crustacea (crabs, lobsters, etc.) appropriate their share for their shelly coverings ; the molluscs constract their shells of the same material ; the corals build up their stony habitations with carbonate of lime also ab- stracted fr'om the water ; the star fishes and sea urchins appropriate a further quantity ; and lastly, the foraminifera living and dying in immense numbers abstract wliat is necessary for their purj)oscs. The destiny of all these is Rock builders. one and the same : they are rock-builders. Their skeletons, often broken up into indistinguishable fragments, but sometimes preserved in nearly all their delicate beauty, are spread along the bottom of the ocean, or, in the case of the "coral reefs, rise by infinitesimal degrees as the busy labours of the minute inhabitants of the grow- ing colony enlarge the mass of their aggregate dwellings. What is, has been. The mud at the bottom of the Atlantic (ooze) is an uncon- solidated limestone — that is, it is still in the process of formation. The chalk of England is nothing more nor less, excepting that it is drier and harder, and forms grass-clothed downs on dryland instead of sea-bottom. The carbonife- rous limestone, the Devonian limestones, the still older limestones of the Silurian formation, are harder and more crystalline, but they have been made up in precisely the same way. The forms of life are not identical— each formation has its peculiar features, by which it may be recognized and identified — but in the method of their formation they are alike. Fresh-ivater Limestone — that is, limestone formed in fresh-water lakes— is distinguishable by the character of its fossils, and frequently by its general appearance, which is usually different from that of marine origin. Oolite ov “roe stone” is a limestone made up of little egg-like grains looking like the roe of a fish — whence its name. Each grain is composed of layers of carbonate of lime formed round a minute nucleus of sand, shell or coral ; not infrequently a foraminifer is so enclosed. When these gi-ains are large the rock is called a pisolite, from pisnm, a pea. Trarertine is a calcareous deposit from hot water and other springs. The so-called “ petrifying” springs of Derbyshire are of this description. The lime is held in solution by an excess of carbonic acid, and as this evapo- rates, the lime is deposited and encrusts what- ever is put into the water. In many parts of Italy mineral springs abound, and travertine is fonned in considerable quantities. Coal and Lignite. — The true coal of the car- boniferous era, the “brown coal” of New Zealand, Australia and Geimany, and the lignite beds of Bovey Tracey and elsewhere, bad a similar origin. They are all accumulations of ancient vege- tation which has undergone chemical change under certain conditions. In the “ brown coals” and “lignites” this change has been less C'^mplete than in the true coal, and the term lignite is employed to express the fact. Some of the lignites and brown coals belong to a comparatively late geological formation. The Bovey Tracey beds are ))resiimab]y of Miocene age, the brown coal of the neighbour- hood of Bonn belongs to the same period, and those of New Zealand and Australia are believed to be late Tertiary deposits. Coal the remains of ancient vegetation. Metamorphic Eocks. We have seen that sedimentary strata may be produced from the waste of igneous rocks IGO TUE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. and the re-arrangement of their materials, and that this has been done some- Alteration times with and sometimes "VNath- out the agency of animal or structure, ^gg^table life. Tt is indeed a reasonable conclusion that directly or indirectly all existing strata have been derived from rocks originally formed by molten matter. We have now to show that there are changes going on through which the sedimentary rocks return by the united agency of pressure, heat and moisture to a condition similar to that from which they were derived. The evidence upon which this conclusion is based has been gath- ered from many sources and accumulated by the patient labour of numerous observers. In some cases the strata have been traced through the successive stages of their change ; in others nearly obliterated fossils remain to testify to their original condition. It is an established fact that argillaceous strata (strata more or less composed of clay) become hardened and changed into Lydian stone, porcelain jasper, clay slate, mica slate, talc slate, chlorite slate, mica schist, chlorite schist, talc schist, hornblende schist, and gneiss. Which of these particular rocks a given clay bed would form if it were changed by long continued and severe pres- sure accompanied with heat, must depend upon several considerations, the first of which is the chemical com- position of the strata to be metamorphosed. Few clays are chemically pure. There is, for instance, a wide difference between the earths used for brickmaking and those employed for the best porcelain — or even between the clays used for common pottery and those suited for the manufacture of china. The brickmaker and the potter are in reality only humble imitators of natural processes, and their art consists in producing metamorphic changes and adapting them to human requirements. Nature works on a grander scale, and carries her processes further. Very much, however, what the potter does vdth the clays is done by Nature as a first step. Porcellanite, or porcelain jasper, for instance, is simply an altered clay rock which takes its name from its I'esemblance to porcelain. The lias of Portrush in Ireland is another illustration of the altera- tion produced by pressure and heat in argil- laceous (clayey) b^s. The unaltered rock is similar in character to the liassic strata of England. It is, when changed, a rock identical with the black Lydian stone of the jewellers, and we are not only able to identify it by its connection with the unaltered strata; the fossils themselves have in many instances been preserved, changed into iron pyrites. Of the alteration of argillaceous beds into clay slates there are abundant proofs — some of them being plentifully fossiliferous. As the metamorphism extends fossils disappear, and if the change be carried far enough the various features of mica schist become apparent. If there was much silica in the original clay, it now forms into small veins, and alternate layers of mica and quartz make up the bulk of the rock. If there was less silica in the clay, there will be less quartz in the rock. Under some circumstances hornblende makes its appear- ance, and we have hornblende schist, or acti- nolite schist ; and — given the necessary pro- portions and the required conditions— the rock is altered into gneiss. Gneiss contains the same mineral ingredients as granite, but it differs in their arrangement. It looks like a stratified granite, and might almost be so de- scribed if it were not that stratification is a term applied only to sedimentary deposits. All these processes may be sometimes con- veniently observed on a small scale. Sir Charles Lyell describes the result of an intrusion of a granitic mass ^“strations. amongst fossiliferous strata on the west side of the fiord of Christiania. “ The stratified rocks,” he says, “ replete with shells and zoophytes, consist chiefly of shale, limestone, and some sandstone; and all these are invariably altered near the granite for a distance of from fifty to four hundred yards. The aluminous shales are hard- ened and have become flinty : sometimes they re- semble jasper.” Ribboned jasper has also been pro- duced, and nearer the granite the schist often contains crystals of hornblende. “Fre- quently between the granite and the hornblende slate above mentioned, gi-ains of mica and crystalline felspar appear in the schist, so that rocks resembling gmeiss and mica schist are produced. ... In some places the siliceous matter of the schist becomes a granular ; quartz ; and when hornblende and mica are added the altered rock loses its stratification and becomes a kind of granite. The limestone, which at points remote from the granite is of an earthy texture and blue colour, and often abounds in corals, becomes a white granular marble near the granite, sometimes siliceous, , the granular structure extending oceasionally ! upwards of 400 yards from the junction ; the ; corals being for the most part obliterated, ' though sometimes preserved even in the white marble. Both the altered limestone and hard- ; ened slate eontain garnets in many places, also \ ores of iron, lead and copper, with some silver.” It may be added that garnets are chiefly found in mica slate, hornblende slate, and gneiss ; less often in granite and granular limestone ; sometimes in serpentine and lava. There are many varieties, differing greatly in chemical :i composition. The colour is various, some shade of red, brown, green, black, or yellow, being most common. ASTRONOMY. 161 VI. It has been already mentioned that at the commencement of the seventeenth century it was known that the earth and planets revolved round the sun, and that some times they moved faster than at others, whilst it was even determined where they moved faster or slower. But according to what laws did the planets thus move ? A momen- tous question ; for what further progress could theoretical astronomy be expected to make, until this problem had been solved ? The first great contribu- tion to astronomy during the seventeenth cen- tury was the discovery of the true answer to this momentous question. It was the discovery by the illustrious Kepler of the famous laws PIG. 20 .— SCOEPIO. motion of Venus, would not account for that of Mars. Nothing daunted, he rejected them all, and contrived yet other hypotheses. But these were not more successful. For fifteen years he pursued his arduous work, and without success. Mars, of all the planets, proved to be the most troublesome, and yet the observations of this planet which had been made by Tycho Brah6 were numerous and accurate. At last, however, his perseverance was re- warded, and he discovered his famous first law, — I. That the orlits of the flanets are ellipses haring the sun in one if their foci. Let us inquire further into the meaning of this law. An ellipse is a closed curve, not unlike a flattened circle ; and an illustra- tion of an ellipse is shown in fig. 23. The longest dia- meter of the ellipse, P A, is called its major axis, and the shortest diameter, B D, is called its minor axis. On the major axis of every ellipse are two points called its foci, and in the figure marked s t. These foci are placed at equal FIG. 21 .— PISCES. FIG. 19 .— LIBEA. governing the motion of the planets round the sun— a discovery which has ren- Zepler s laws. name immortal. Kepler was born in Southern Germany in 1.571, and was an enthusiastic astro- nomer and indefatigable worker. Gifted with great ingenuity, he was a most energetic theorist. With wonderful patience and ingenuity he invented hypothesis after hypothesis which he thought might prove to be the true laws governing the motion of the planets. Turning to the long series of careful obser- vations made by Tycho Brahe,he, with great labour, 22 .-cancee. carefuUy reduced these so as to obtain the true position of the planets at different times. He then rigidly tested each of his hypotheses by comparing their result with these observations of Tycho Brah6. But each of these hypotheses broke down under the rigid scrutiny ; this one failed to explain this fact, another failed to explain some other fact, and a third, whilst it accounted for the observed' VOL. I. distances from the centre of the ellipse M, and they possess certain geometrical properties which need not be described now; but the most important is the fact that the distance of any point on ^ . the circum- ® fcrence of the ^ ellipse from one focus, added to the corresponding dis- tance from the other focus, is always the same, and equal to the major axis, no matter on what part of the circumference of the ellipse the point is situated. Tliis properly enables us to draw the ellipse with ease, for we have merely to take a piece of silk the length of the major axis, fasten each end to a pin inserted in the foci of the ellipse, and pressing the point of a pencil against the piece of silk, move it along, keeping the silk tight. The distance of each focus of the ellipse from the centre, in parts of half the major axis, is called the eccentricity of the ellipse. If, therefore, the distance M P, or semi- major axis as it is called, be 10, and the dis- 11 162 THE VNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. tance M s be 6, the eccentricity of the ellipse is said to be 0‘6, or three-fifths. Having given this account of the curve called an ellipse, we can now explain Kepler’s first law. It says that every planet moves round the sun in the circumference of an ellipse, and that the sun is placed in a focus of this ellipse. In fig. 23 suppose s to be the sun, then astro- nomers call the distance m p, or the mean distance of the planet ; it is half the greater diameter of the ellipse, and they define the form of the ellipse by stating what is its 'mean distance, and what is its eccentricity or distance, s M, of the sun from its centre. When these two quantities are known, we can easily draw the ellipse in the manner shown above. The ellipse shown has an eccen- tricity of 0-25, and is nearly the shape of the orbit of Mercury. They also call that point of the ellipse p which is nearest to the sun the 'perihelion of the orbit of the planet ; and the opposite point A, where the planet is farthest from the sun, is called aphelion of the orbit of the planet. These names can easily be remembered. This discovery of Kepler was a grand discovery, for it showed astronomers what was the real orbit of a planet, and at once did away with all those com- plicated hypotheses by which the earlier astronomers had tried to explain the motion of a planet. But this was not all ; it was also necessary to know at what rate the planet moved in this orbit. Did it move steadily round always at the same speed, or did it move rapidly in one part and slowly in another? This also was answered by Kepler by his discovery of his second law, which says : — ri' II. That a line joining the planet and the sun sweeps over equal areas in equal times. The meaning of this law is shown by fig. 24, where s w is a line joining the sun and planet, or, as it is called, the radius rector of the planet. Now, according to Kepler’s second law, the planet would move over the spaces w c and A P in equal times, because the shaded area enclosed between the two lines S W and S C is equal to the area enclosed between the two lines SA and SP. From the figure it IS evident that the planet moves fastest when near the sun and slowest when far from the sun. Not only did these laws account for the motion of the planets, with their alternate slow and quick motion, but they accounted to a certain extent for the motion of the moon, inasmuch as they explained why Hipparchus’ second table was required. The motion of the node and perigee of the moon showed that the ellipse in which the moon moved was not stationary, like that of the planets, but was slowly moving in periodical revolutions. Kepler was unable to account for the other inequalities in the motion of the moon — namely, f r\ if T I Kepler's second law. the evection discovered by Ptolemy, and the variation and annual equation discovered by Tycho Brahd. These two famous laws were announced by Kepler in a great work published in 1609, and called “ De Motibus Stellas Martis,” or, rather, that is the end of its long title, and is the name by which it is generally known. They were of immense value to astronomy, and laid the foundations for its subsequent great advance. Kepler was not, however, content with these two laws, for he clearly saw that there must be some law connecting the distances of the planets and the time they took to move round the sun. The discovery of this law was the goal of his work, and encouraged by his. success, he redoubled his efforts to discover this law. To determine the distance of a planet by direct observations from the earth was a very difficult operation, and no great accuracy could be expected ; but to find out the average time they took to go round the sun was very much easier, and if the law connecting these two could be discovered it would be easy to find the distances of the planets with great accuracy. The discovery of this law was not,, 2 however, to be made at once. Kepler imagined all sorts of laws connecting the distance and period of revolution of the planets, and carefully tested all these laws by a laborious comparison with the result of Tycho Brahe’s ob- servations: but not one proved to be correct. Years went by, and still his efforts were unsuccessful. Nine years were spent in this labour ; and then, on the 8th May, 1618,. he succeeded, and triumph- antly announced his third famous law : — III. That the squares of the periods of rev O' lutian of the planets are in the same proportion to each other as the cubes of their mean distances from the sun. Tills law requires no illustration, and shows that a planet which is twice as far as another will require ^(2)^= v'8 = 2'83, or nearly 2| times as long a period to revolve round the sun. Twenty-six years had been spent by Kepler in these researches, but he had his reward in the discovery of those three famous laws which regulate the motions of the planets, and which have served as the groundwork of modern theo- retical astronomy. And it is well worthy of notice that it was by the assiduous study of that very planet Mars, which had been his great trouble, from its motion being inconsistent wdth his earlier hypotheses, that Kepler was able to deduce the true laws which regulate the motions of the members of the solar system, and so ren- der his name immortal as one of the grandest discoverers the world has seen. Yet, like all grand discoveries destined to revolutionise science, these famous results of Kepler did not meet with general attention. Men do not like to have to change opinions they have long 23 . ANCIENT HISTORY. 163 held, and which are sanctioned by the great names of their predecessors. The greatest prac- tical astronomer of the time, Gassendi, of Aix in France, did not attach much importance to these discoveries. Many refused to credit them ; others, like Eiccioh, undervalued them. Bullialdus was the first to introduce them into practical astronomy, and Horrocks was the first to properly appreciate their value. The succeeding generation of astronomers recog- nised their importance, and led by Hevelius, Huygens, and Picard, universally adopted them. The next advance in astronomy was of a different nature, yet of the highest importance. In Tuscany, in Northern Italy, was living at this period the celebrated philosopher Galileo Galilei. Born at Pisa in l.oGl, he rendered his name famous by his great discoveries in mechanical science, in what is now known as statics and dynamics. In the spring of 1609 Galileo was staying in Venice, when he learned from a friend that a Dutch instrument-maker had succeeded in making a telescope, by which distant objects appeared much Gameo and larger. On his return to Padua, the telescope, ^^^as then living, he thought over the subject, and soon saw that the principle of this discovery must depend on the refraction of light by glass lenses. By experimenting with a convex lens and a con- cave lens fitted into a tube, he succeeded in making a telescope which magnified three times ; this instrument created a great sensa- tion in Venice. Galileo next devoted his whole energies to making a much more powerful telescope, and proceeded to grind and polish lenses with which to construct one. After much labour, he succeeded in making one which magnified as much as eight times. Finally, by labour and perseverance, he was able to construct a telescope which magnified as much as thirty times, and it was with this instrument that his famous discoveries were made. Galileo at once turned his telescopes on the celestial bodies, and was rewarded by brilliant discoveries, thus inaugurating the magnificent series of telescopic investigations which have rendered physical astronomy so grand a science. Even with his smaller telescopes he observed a great difference in the appearance of the planets and the stars. The former appeared as distinct discs of sensible magnitude, whilst the latter were like very minute tiny glittering points, much smaller than they seemed to the naked eye. Up to this time the opponents of the theory of the revolution of the earth round the sun used to urge that if this theory were true, and the planets simply reflected the solar light, the planets Mercury and Venus ought to show phases resembling the phases of the moon, and should vary much in size. This is quite true, as will be seen by a study of fig. 25. When Venus is between the earth and the sun, as at a, almost the entire body of the planet should be in shadow, and at most a tiny crescent of light be seen. As the planet moved round the sun first to h and then to c, and so on, it would become more distant, and so look smaller, whilst more of the enlightened side of the planet would be rendered visible. Soon half the illuminated hemisphere of the planet would become visible, and the amount which would be seen of the bright side of the planet would go on increasing until when farthest from the earth, practically, the^^^®®® whole disc would be seen like the full moon. Of course, under these conditions the planet would appear beyond the sun, and generally so close as to be invisible ; but at times it might be seen either over the sun or under it. As the planet moved on in its orbit exactly the reverse phenomena would occur, as shown by the figure. The advocates of the theory quite saw the truth of this, but replied that these planets might exhibit phases, but that we might not be able to see them. Not a very satisfactory answer, though as it is really the fact. When, therefore, Galileo had made his large telescope, he turned it on Venus, and carefully- studied the appearance of the planet. He- commenced his observations in September, 1610, and the planet appeared like the moon at its quarters, and gradually became more and more crescent. He was soon obliged to stop* his observations, for Venus was unfavourably placed, but Galileo had seen enough to show him that Venus did present phases resembling the moon. This he published in the form of an anagram. In the subsequent year Galileo was; enabled to resume his observations, and an- nounced to the world that Venus presented the same phases as the moon — a great triumph for- the Copernican theory. V. The Babylonian and Assyeian Empires (continued). At a veiy remote period Babylonian wan- derers appear to have penetrated to more northern regions near the head waters of the two great rivers, and to have established them- selves there. The Biblical record in Genesis is that “ Out of that land [Shinar, or Babylonia] i went forth Asshur, and builded Nineveh : ” but the marginal, and probably the preferable, . reading is, “ he [Nimrod] went out into. Assyria,” a name, perhaps, given to the district from Asshur, one of the five sons of bhem,.. If that reading is accepted, it would seem,, from the concurrent evidence of inscriptions,, that Nimrod himself established a city or colony at Assur, on the western bank of tlie Tigris, about two hundred and thirty miles north-west of Babylon, the site being now marked by the mounds of Shef-kat, or Kaleh- Shergat. Here was established the worship of Assur, or Asshur, who, in the fashion of tlie time, had been elevated to the rank of a demi- IGl THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. god. For two or three centuries Assyria was i>-overned by “ patesis,” or viceroys, who were subject to Babylonia, although probably they soon achieved a practical independence. About 1850 B.C., a ruler named Ismi-Dagon emerges from the obscurity, and he appears to have reigned for about thirty years, and he was suc- ceeded by his son Samsi-vul. Another king of the same name, about twenty years afterwards, built some of the large temples, remains of He was succeeded by Adasi, whose son and successor, Bel-bani, is described as a great conqueror, and was claimed in later times as a national hero. The successor of Bel-bani. Assur-zakir-esir, (about 1600 B.C.), was doubtless a powerful prince, ruling over an extensive Sistrict. His royal title indi- cated that he was the “lord o£ countries,” and he probably excited the fear IXIEEIOE QUADBANGLE OF ASSYEIAN PALACE. which have been discovered on the site of the city of Assur ; and the name of a succeeding monarch, Tiitak, is preserved in connexion with a temple known as “ the House of Salva- tion,” presumably in commemoration of an escape Horn some great danger. It is inferred from later inscriptions that an independent kingdom was established by Bel-kapkapu about 1700 B.C., near the time when_ Khammuragas was overrunning the southern kingdom ; but no records of his achievements are known to exist. or jealousy of Babylonia, then governed by t e || successor of Khammuragas. Disputes between the two countries ripened into open war in tne reign of Assur’s successor, Ninip-tugul-assmi. i Assyria maintained its independence, and be- |;- coming apparently stronger by the contes , t rose in power and importance. The ^ four following kings are preserved, but there ; are no records of the events of their reigns, j extending over nearly a century ^ Treaties respecting the boundaries of the two | INCIENT HISTORY. 165 empires appear to have been arranged, and . about 1400 B.C. a royal marriage united Mu- ballidat-Serua, daughter of Assur-ubahd, king of Assyria, to the king of Babylonia. This marriage, as we shall see, like some other royal marriages arranged for political purposes, did not produce all the results desired, but led to con^sion and anarchy. Under Assur-ubahd (“ Assur gave life ”), a king of great valour and energy, the Assyrian empire was gradually extended, several small adjacent territories being absoiBed. The only enemy to be feared was Egypt, the warlike monarch of which penetrated eastward to the borders of Babylonia and Assyria ; but Assur maintained his empire intact against the as- saults of the great armies of the Pharaohs. He greatly adorned Nineveh, and rebuilt with splen- dour the temple dedicated to the mythical J shtar. About 1380 B.C., the son of the Assyrian princess and the king of Babylonia ascended the throne of the latter empire. His name was read by Mr. George Smith as Kara-hardas, but the Rev. Mr. Sayce is of opinion that the true reading is Kara-Muradas, “ servant of the god Muradas ” (Bel). At that time an important section of the Babylonian population was a people known as Kassu, probably descended from the tribe in the north of Elam, to which the conqueror Khammuragas belonged. The Kassu were jealous of the Assyrian influence, strengthened by the accession of a monarch of Assyrian blood, and instigated a revolt, which led to the murder of the king and setting up in his place Nazi-bugas, unconnected with the reigning family, and perhaps a popular leader who excited the people against the young king for the purpose of furthering his own ambitious purposes. This outbreak excited angry feelings in Assyria, the king of which at the time was Bel-nirari, son of Assur-ubalid, and uncle of the murdered King of Babylonia. With a great army he crossed the frontier, attacked Babylon, scattered the Kassu, killed the usurper, and placed on the throne a member of the Babylonian royal family, Kuri-galzu, who, however, does not seem to have pos- sessed much confidence in the friendliness of his allies, for he built a strong city, Dur- kuri-galzu, near the late Baghdad, to defend the northern part of his dominions. About 1350 B.C., there was a new monarch in each empire : Bel-nirari of Assyria was suc- ceeded by his son Budil ; and Khuri-galzu of Babylonia by his son Mili-sipak. Budil in- herited the martial spirit of his race, pene- trated into the mountainous regions to the east, and subdued the Turuki, Niri, and other tribes who had perhaps harassed his frontiers. The_ great palace in the capital, Assur, the ! earliest known royal residence in Assyria, was * erected by him. He occupied the throne for J twenty years, and was succeeded by his son, Vul-nirari L, another ruler of great energy and ambition. There was, indeed, a remarkable difference between the characters of the Assyrians and Babylonians, though kindred in race. The former were generally enterprising and warlike ; the latter peaceful and com- paratively indolent. Vul-nirari invaded and ravaged the northern part of the Babylonian dominion, and captured several of the cities. The young king of Babylonia, Merodach- boladam I., who succeeded his father about five years after Vul-nirari had become king of Assyria, was unable to offer effectual resis- tance to the more energetic monarch, who, besides his Babylonian conquests, overcame the Subari, a people on the north of his dominions. After a successful and brilliant reign of thirty years, Vul-nirari was succeeded (1300 b.c.) by Shalmaneser, who inherited some of his warlike and aggressive disposition, annexing the region around the head-waters of the Tigris, and defeating the Muzri (probably the Egyptians, who had made considerable advances into Asia) ; but is even more conspicuous for architectural than military achievement. He added to, the old royal palace at Assur, which his father had already enlarged and beautified ; and founded a palace at Nineveh, to which city he transferred the royal residence, making it the new capital of his dominion in place of Assur. In Nineveh he restored the temple of Ishtar, and about eighteen miles to the south built a new city, Kalah, the remains of which are now the modern Turkish village Selamiyeh. Shalmaneser was succeeded, after a reign of twenty-nine years, by his son Tugulti-ninip, in whose reign a war broke out with Babylonia, apparently caused by Conquest of a frontier dispute. The Assyrian king entered the country, defeated Nazi- marudas II., the Babylonian monarch, con- quered the entire country, and became abso- lute monarch of all the country from the mountains of Armenia to the Persian Gulf. He assumed the proud title of “ King of Nations, King of Sumir and Akkad ; ” but continued to reside at Nineveh, where he further adorned the temple of Ishtar. It is difficult to trace the course of events at this period. There is no connected history, and we are dependent on such information as scattered and fragmentary inscriptions afford. It would appear that an Assyrian, Tiglath- Adar, was placed on the Babylonian throne as a tributary king ; and during the thirty years of the reign of Tugulti-ninip, Babylonia was practically an Assyrian province. But the great king died, and his successor, Bel-kudur- uzur, was a weak ruler ; the then king of Baby- lonia, supported, no doubt, by the national feeling, declaring himself independent, assumed the aggressive ; and in the war that followed, the king of Assyria was killed (1220 B.C.). The previously great and coherent empire was weakened ; there were domestic as well as foreign troubles, and the reign of the new king, Ninip-pal-eser, a period of twenty years, was marked by depression and disasters. The Hittites and other tribes who had been reduced to vassalage by former monarchs revolted, and overran and annexed some of the northern and western provinces of the empire. The Assyrian arms, however, were more successful against the king of Babylonia, who entered the territory and endeavoured to obtain possession of Assur, the ancient capital, but was defeated and compelled to retreat to his own country. 166 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. The Article {continued ). — Theory. EXERCISE IX. Put into English : — 1. Dos fruits, des amandes, des noisettes, de almonis hazel-nuts la faine et du gland sont la nourriture b^ech-nuts acorns food ordinaire de I’ecureuil. 2. Parce que je n’ai usual squirrel because pas de lictcurs. en suis-je moins Sylla ? 3. lictors {for if) the less Sulla. Les Troglodytes ressemblaient plus a des betes cave dteellers tcer ^ resembling beasts qu’rt des homines. 4. Autant de tetes, autant tkan heads d'avis. 5. Elle n’a ni parents, ni support, ni opinions richesse. G. La terre ressemble a de grandes earth resembles tablet tes oil cbacun veut ecrire son nom. tablets on which everg one tcishes to write his name 7. On ne fait jamais de bien h, Dieu en faisant does service by causing du mal a ses creatures. 8. Proposons - nous harm his let us propose to ourselves do grands cxemples a imiter plutot que de imitate rather than vains systemes a suivre. 9. Plus de gi-andeur folio ic. greatness contient plus de neant. 10. Beaucoup de contains nothingness. gens promettent, pcu savent tcnir. people pn'omise knoiv how to perform. Turn into French : — 1. All the lakes of (the) upper Italy are, Tons lacs haute Italie (f.) like those of (the) Switzerland, (some) hollow comme ceux Suisse (1.) ~ creuses glens wherein the waters of the mountains ‘ vallees oil eaux montagnes accumulated, until they met in se sont accumuleesjusqtd a. ce qu'elles aient rencontri dans the belt of (the) rocks and (of the) earth, ceinture (f.) rochers terres (pi.) the outlet by which they escaped, in echancrure par oil elles se sont echappdes en giving rise to (some) rivers. Those of the donnant naissance Jleuves. Ceux peninsula, on the contrary, filling up (some) pdninsule (f.) au contraire remplissant old craters or (some) basins enclosed between anciens crateres ou bassins encaisses entre (some) mountains have no natural channels n'ont point ^naturels ^imissaires and often threaten to inundate, after (the) ^souvent 'nienacent d'inonder apres 'long rains or when the snow melts (at the longues plides melting of the snows) the neighbouring fonte(f-) neiges ^ voisinvs lands. 2. How can one, with reference to ^campagnes. Comment peut-on par rapport God and even to (the) humanity, keep so mcme humaniti (m.) garder much gold, so much silver, so many goods and or argent cliafitcls (so many movables, so many meubles precious stones), amidst (at the middle of) the pierreries milieu Cm.) extreme misery of the poor by which we extreme misers pauvres (pi.) dont on were overwhelmed in these latter times ? etait accable dans cas derniers temps? The Noun.— Theory. 1. The noun or substantive is a word w'hich 'names persons, animals or things : Andre, , poisson, fiCa., pommc, apple. 2. There are two classes of nouns : (a) com- mon, and (b) proper. a. Common nouns are applicable to all per- sons, animals or things of the same kind ; a being presenting certain dimensions and fea- tures wdll be called garqon, boy, or un chien, a dog ; an object assuming a given shape wall be known under the name montagne, a mountain. b. Proper nouns arc applicable to a particular person, animal, or thing, to distinguish them from all others of the same species : Andre, Andrew, Azor, a dog’s name, le Vesnve, Vesu- vius. Although there may be several boys called Andre, and several dogs called Azor, yet these are not terms applicable to a whole species : on seeing a being of a certain form we shall not say, Ah! void un Andre ; voila un Azor ! here is an Andrew ; there is an Azor ! 3. A third class of nouns may be mentioned : the collective nouns ; which, although singular in form, present to the mind the idea of many — such as armie, army, fouls, crowd, peuple, people, etc. In English this class of words requires attention, as the verb following is put in the singular or plural according to attending circumstances, and sometimes taste. In French these words present no difficulty unless they are followed by their complement — that is, a noun depending on them and completing their meaning. Then the question is to know whether the accompany- ing verb is to agree with the collective noun or with its complement. If the collective be general — that is, implying the totality of the olfiects designated — the verb agrees with it. If the collective be partitive— th 2 A, is, embracing only a portion of the objects referred to — the verb agrees with the complement. La foule des itoiles annonce sa puissance, the multitude of stars announces his power; la foule here is a general col- lective, and the verb agrees with it because it possesses the leading thought. Tine ferule d' itoiles brillent tons les soirs au-dessus de nos te.tes, a crowd of stars shine every evening above our heads; wMe/owZe here is a partitive collective, and the verb agrees with the complement because the latter contains the leading thought. A general collectiv^e noun is recognised by the article le, la, which precedes it ; the partitive collective is usually preceded by un, une. 4. Nouns offer tlie distinctions of (A) gender and (B) number. A. The gender has already been referred to in Lesson I., 4 ; and under the heading of Adjec- tives wdll be shown wLat modifications nouns undergo w'hen passing from the masculine to the feminine. The followdng rules, w'hich are given for reference and not for immediate com- mitting to memory, mark how the gender of a noun may be ascertained from its termination. First Rule. — All nouns ending in a con- sonant are masculine, except those ending in eur, ion, or included in the subjoined list, W'hich arc feminine : in /; la clef, the key, la nef the nave, la soif thirst. in m : la faim, hunger. BOTANY. 167 in ain : la main, the hand (1 exception out of 66 cases). in in: la fin, the end (1 exc. out of 240 cases), in on : la houson, drink, la chanson, song, la eloison, partition, la cuisson, cook- ing, la faqon, fashion, la foisoJi, plenty, la garnison, garrison, la guerison, cure, la laideron, plain girl, la logon, lesson, la maison (and all in aisoii), house, la moisson, harvest, la 7no2(sson, monsoon, la pamoison, swooning, la prison, \)risox\, la, rangon, ransom, la toison, fleece, la traliison, treason. (These are out of more than 400 cases.) in er : la cuiller, the spoon, la mer, the sea (2 exc. out of several hundred cases), in air : la chair, the flesh or pulpit (1 exc. out of 17 nouns). in oir : la halangoir, the swing, in our : la cour, the court, la tour, the tower (2 exc. out of 28 cases). in s : la hrehis, the sheep, la fois, the time, les 7nceurs, the morals, Za, souris, the mouse, la vis, the screw (5 exc. out of 127 nouns). in et : laforU, the forest (1 out of 300). in uit : la nuit, the night (1 out of 15). in ot : la dot, the dowry (1 out of 110). in gent: la dent, the tooth, la gent, the race, la jument, the mare (3 out of several hundred). in art : la hart, the halter, la part, the por- tion (2 out of 20). in ort : la mort, death (1 out of 15). in ix : la perdrix, the partridge (1 out of 11). in aix : Z <7 peace. * in aux : la chaux, the lime, la faux, the scythe, in (TUX : la toux, the cough (1 out of 9). In oix : la croix, the cross, la noix, the nut, la poix, pitch, lavoix, the voice (4 out of 5, the masc. noun being le choix, the choice). N.B. Both in the above and the following lists, only the words of common occurrence are given ; to crowd them with technical terms would confuse the learner ; therefore the figures given in brackets are only approximately correct. Second Eule. — Nouns ending in a vowel other than e mute are masculine : — all in a; un opera, an opera, 7in gala, a high- day ; except a few foreign terms, as la polka, la 7nazurka. all in i : un etui, a case ; except foi, faith, fourmi, ant, loi, law, 7nerci,^ mercy, paroi, wall. all in 0 : vn echo, an echo, all in 71 : un fichu, a kerchief; except eau, water, ghi, glue, peau, skin, tribv, tribe, 7:ertu, virtue, all in y : j ui'y, jury. all in e : le the, tea. (For nouns in te and tie, see next rule.) * Merci, thanks, is masculine : ce tableau ne m'a cotife qu'un grand merci. VI. The Leaves. No portion of the vegetable fabric presents greater diversity of character than the leaf, nor with any part are there connected more interesting phenomena and associations. It is to the leaves of plants, much more than to their flowers, that the vegetable beauty of a landscape is referable. In every, genuine garden, foliage is accounted quite as necessary as gay blossom ; and more is involved than the ordinary use of the term presupposes, in the appellation given of old to the abode provided for tender plants, still emphatically called the green\iou^Q. The forms of leaves, the general shapes, are beyond counting. Every geometrical outline, except the absolute square and rectangular oblong, has illustrations, more or less exact. The dimensions vaiy from the merest point, an almost indistinguishable atom, as in the Cypress-tree, up to a length and breadth of many feet ; and as regards length, of many yards, as in the date-palm. The colour, though ordinarily some shade of green, varies not uncommonly, in part, to a rich crimson, as in certain species of Dracasna ; or w’holly to a deep purple, as in some of the ornamental kinds of beet. No short descriptive phrase can be contrived, accordingly, for the leaf in general, as regards externals. It remains true, nevertheless, that in the inmost structure and in the functions, there is close and ad- mirable agreement. So -beautifully does the ancient axiom reassert itself, that Nature, truly scanned, is found keeping to a few original old melodies, played in a thousand different keys ; the same old thoughts uttered in a thousand different tongues. A leaf such as that of an Oak or Apple-tree, when held up between the eye and the light, is seen to be traversed in every part by delicate lines, which, Internal commencing iii strong ones, gra- dually become more and more attenuated, and continually touch and interlace. These lines indicate threads of “ woody fibre,” associated with which are minute sap-vessels. They represent what in the human frame we call the skeleton and the veins, with the differ- ence that while the animal parts are inde- pendent of one another, in the leaf they are intimately associated. So plain is the resem- blance, that, by one of the innumerable easy and spontaneous metaphors which pervade human speech, viewed in the living leaf they are familiarly termed by the identical name of veins”; and when the soft part has decayed, and nothing remains but dry and inanimate network, by another similar metaphor, the “skeleton.” Art has now for a long time devoted itself to the artificial preparation of “ skeleton leaves.” Nothing can be imagined more exquisite than the simulacra, procured 168 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. from difEerent species of Ficus, fi’om ivy leaves, and many others in which the woody fibre is strong and enduring, and in which the cellular tissue is specially perishable. Here, however, as happens so often in our contemplation of works of human skill, it is after all only an imitation of what nature has been in the habit of doing ever since the world was possessed of holly and poplar trees. In the month of March, wherever black poplars abound, the little runnels in the meadows supply hundreds of similar skele- tons, marred as to beauty, no doubt, by the irregu- larity of the process of skeletonizing, but still the same thing essen- tially ; and under old holly trees the supply is often quite as copious. When leaves are ex- tremely fleshy and succulent, and particularly when they seem to be little more than bags of watery juice, the veins are not distinguishable. That veins exist is nevertheless declared quite plainly when such leaves are slowly desiccated. One of the very attractively quaint and excep- tional among our English wild-flowers is the dimple-wort — Cotyledon Unibiliciis — a denizen of old limestone walls. So long as the atmo- sphere is fairly moist, the round green leaves, flat except for the dimple in the centre, are so heavily charged with sap, that if squeezed between the fingers the moisture runs down in a stream. Let them be parched by an unusually fervent July, and they change to filmy disks that now show most beautiful reticulation. How constant is the salutary reminder one gets, while in pursuit of field botany, that before concluding from first appearances, it is truest wisdom in all things to “ wait a wee.” The interstices of the network of fibres are filled up with veiy delicate cellular tissue, often loose and with un- occupied spaces inter- vening, and which to a certain extent also envelopes the fibres. Unprotected, this delicate substance would soon be destroyed by the heat of the sun. To defend it, both surfaces of the leaf are covered with a membranous skin or cuticle, which may often be stripped off in large pieces. Try the experiment with a leaf of the common houseleek, cutting through the skin transversely and very gently with a sharp penknife, then ripping it ofi longitudinally. In the cuticle are innumerable minute openings called the “ stomata,” by means of which the vital processes of the leaf, in their relation to the atmosphere, are carried on (fig. 28 ). The leaves of endogenous plants, or those which have no distinct pith, wood, and bark to the stem, and which are usually destitute of branches, are veined in a manner different from those of exogens. Usually a stream runs from base to apex, the central por- tion perfectly straight, with veins to the right and left, which are more or less curvilinear. All start from the base with the intention of re-uniting at the apex ; all to the right and left are obliged to take more or less of a curve in order to get there, and the result is a most exquisitely symmetrical dualism of concave lines, with perfect convergence at the upper extremity. The leaf of the Lily of the Valley supplies a very good example. So does that of its near relative, the Solomon’s Seal. In grasses, which are strictly endogenous, this beautiful kind of venation is also well exhibited, though in the very narrow-leaved species after a slightly different manner, the veins being much more nearly parallel. The leading veins of endo- genous leaves never touch while upon their way to the apex. There is never the slightest approach to network like that of exogenous leaves ; the intervening spaces are crossed, never- theless, by subordinate veins, ordinarily placed nearly at right angles, or at very obtuse angles, to the large ones. In one rather considerable section of endogens — that which is consti- tuted of the families having for their types the banana, the Indian- shot, and the ginger- plant — there is a very elegant modification of the curvilinear. A powerful midrib goes right away from base to apex ; and right and left of it, all along, a steady outward flow of veins moves in a wavy manner towards the margins, reaching which they bend upwards, or some- thing after the manner of the elements of a bird’s feather. Many terms have been applied to these BOTANY. 169 different kinds of venation. That of exogenous leaves is best described by the netted,” or “ reticu- Terms applied , . . simple word to venation. i , , ,, t • i ^ lated. In special lorms or ex ogenons leaves, a qualifying adjective is some- times required, as when certain passion-flowers are said to have “ palminerved ” leaves. Certain maples also are said to be “ fan- veined,” and the Corylacese to be “ penninerved ” ; but “ netted ” is ordinarily quite enough. The term usually bestowed on the veining in endogens is unfortu- nately a very deceptive one. It is customary to call it “ parallel,” or “ straight ” ; but parallelism implies that the lines are per- manently equidistant, instead of being, as in the leaves in ques- tion, sedulously convergent. Better therefore to say that it is “curvilinear,” or i “apicular.” The leaves of the bananas, etc., \ are best called ‘feather - veined.” Now and then it hap- pens that ex- ogens have curvilinear ve- nation, as well shown in the broad -leaved species of the Epacridaceae. The Dam- maras among the Coniferas are also con- spicuous ex- amples of the combination of the curvilinear, with distinct wood. bark, and pith. On the contrary, several of the Indian lilies, otherwise command- ing examples of the endogenous type, have netted veins ; and in the Araceae the tendency towards network is always very marked. These occur almost ent idea, being the seat of the fructification. Hence these parts are very properly dis- tinguished by the name of “ fronds.” Their veining is often quite peculiar. In all the British ferns, and in vast numbers of the exotic species, instead of producing net- work, and instead of being cur- vilinear, the primary veins fork at their extremities, and each of the prougs, after proceeding a little distance, forks again. Occasionally, as in the Maidenhairs, this re- capitulated forking becomes very striking and characteristic. In any case, among these “fork- veined” ferns the fibres go right away to the margin, never approaching, never introducing network. Ar- rived there, they remind one of a riG. 23.— sTOMATEs, HIGHLY man whose onward walk is sud- MAGxiFiED. denly checked by a precipice he knew not of. He is brought to a full stop ; and in the case of the fern all is now finished. One plant EIG. 29.— SIMPLE LEAF. FIG. 30. — NET-VEIXED LEAF. are either “ simple Veinless exclusively , in certain leaves. - ... „ families of the flowerless,or more correctly speaking, the cryptogamic plants; mosses and selaginellas supply examples. Popularly, the beautiful green growth FIG. 31. — LINDEN TREE. Venation of ferns. of the Fern counts as a leaf. But however leaf -like, as viewed from above, the under-surface presents quite a differ- only is known with forked veins that is not a fern — the very cu- rious Japanese tree, not un- common in English gar- dens, called the Salisburia. The first great fact in relation to the shape or out- line of leaves, is that they or “ compound.” A sim- ple leaf, such as that of the oak or apple tree, consists of a blade, or “lamina,” with its stalk or “petiole,” the latter very variable in length in different plants. Frequently no petiole is de'^e- loped, in wliich case the lamina is said to be “ sessile.” Com- pound leaves, on the other hand, are con- stituted of two, three, four, five, or a larger and often indefinite number of relatively small blades, called “ leaflets,”articulated in different ways, as to position, to a stalk common to the whole. Fig. 29 represents the simple and peiiolate leaf of the mallow; and fig. 26 the compound leaf of an Acacia. Compound leaves are veiy rarely sessile. 170 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, The forms of simple leaves are innumer- able, ranging from the needle-shape, as in Thrift, up to the oval and circular, Sunple leaves. common Pond weed and the garden Nasturtium. The outline is of course determined in great measure by the character of the venation, just as the figure of an animal comes in the main of the propor- tionate length of its principal bones. The kangaroo, the horse, the pig, and the giraffe are all quadrupeds, and the archetype of their respective skeletons is the same as that of the biped man ; yet how unlike are they in eom- parative length of limbs, and in general profile of body ! The most usual idea of venation in the leaves of exogens is that which commences with the strong midrib proeeeding from the base of the laminate the tip, and giving rise to many subordinate veins, which either meander away indeterminately, as in a poplar leaf, or else strike out in straight and often almost parallel lines, to the margin, as in the chestnut, and then not uncommonly run beyond it, so as to render the edge prickly. When the primary veins meander, the venation is said to be deliquescent.” Beautiful is the resem- blance then borne by these primaries and their im- mediate branches to a great river with its afflu- ents. The fewer, the shorter, and weaker the primaries are, so much the narrower will be the leaf. When they run out ener- getically, it becomes mueh the broader ; and aceording to the multi- plication and the distri- bution of the ultimate branchlets, the general outline will be linear, elliptical, ovate, circular, or triangular, more or less. Sometimes there is a sudden arrest of the onward progress of the midrib, the primary veins pursuing their way as usual, and then \ve have the very singular shape presented in the leaves of the Tulip-tree, Liriodendron tulipifei'a. which appear to have had their extremities cut off. A very frequent condition is that one observable in ‘‘lobed” and “ incised ” leaves, such as those of the oak and the dandelion. This eomes of the pri- maries being ill-sustained in the distance by tributaries, the result of which must needs be gaps and spaces. Nature takes advantage of this — her own doing in the first place — by giving to the “incised” and “pinnatifid” class of leaves a most wonderful and beautiful variety of indent. Sometimes we have a series of large and regular angles, as in certain Banksias ; sometimes huge promontories, those on the two opposite margins of the leaf by no means invariably corresponding. In many leaves these seeming fissures extend all the way to the midrib ; and not infrequently the lamina is so much divided and subdivided as FIG. 32 .— PIXXATIFID LEAVES. to require the appellation of “ doubly pinna- tifid.” A plant generally keeps to its own prescribed outline in the matter of leaf. But Nature positively refuses to bind herself by any inflexible rules, and never perhaps dis- closes a more entertaining and perplexing waywardness than in various species of the lovely genus Scabiosa and its near ally, the Knautia, both illustrated abundantly in our native flora. The charming little Dove’s-foot Scabious, and the common blue Knautia of the cornfields, produce at first leaves which in outline are veiy similar to those of the willow-tree. The flower-stems rise to a maxi- mum height of rarely more than two feet, and are singularly bare of foliage ; yet before the blossoms expand, leaves have been developed below, which present every gradation, and in the most easy and nonchalant manner, between the willow type and the extremest pinnatifid. Plenty of plants might be named in which leaves of different shapes co-exist. Almost every form of simple leaf distin- guished by botanists may be observed in a set of a dozen specimens of the East Indian Karivia. Over and above the in- tellectual treat supplied by the contemplation of " this most curious sportive- noss, there is the useful lesson in it, not to be overlooked, that in seeking to determine specific dif- ferences, it never does to depend too much, or in- deed at all, upon leaf- shape ; nor, in truth, upon any one set of organs — not even the flowers and fruit. Men are only told by the aggregate of what is in them. Why should we expect anything different in plants, which have been moulded and fashioned by the same Divine hand, and in their natures there- fore coiTespond with mankind, composite always, and never to be judged of by a single feature ? THE STUDENT AS SUBJECT. BY ROBERT SOMERS. The student is by nature a patriot, and yet is bound by his studies to become more and more a citizen of the world. The sense of being subject to anything not being one of his most lively senses, he is prone even as a patriot to rebel, to be a revolutionist, to overturn some- thing within or without the walls of his col- lege ; while as a citizen of the world, being THE FRIEXDLY COUNSELLOR. 171 open to new ideas, and everything to which | he has not been particularly accustomed, it is doubtful whether his rebellion will take the form of the blindest conservatism, or the most adventurous reform. The student as a subject, whether of the general deims of a republic, or of a constitutional king, or a despotic emperor, is thus one of the most anomalous specimens of the genus homo. One would be glad to think of him as a rocking-stone, swaying gently to and fro on an assured equilibrium. But the difficulty is to determine his proper base, or whether in the first ardour of his studies he can have any base, and may not be a wandering star passing quite away out of his solar system, only to return to it at some distant and incalculable period. It would be vain to deny to youth its pre- rogative of innovation. Youth has been the eternal spring of humanity; and, like the spring of nature, it has always had a sufficiency of winter on its shoulders. It is the manner of the thing, rather than the thing itself, with which one can have to do. But has the student, it will be asked, any immediate concern with his relations to the State at all 1 I should think he has ; and whether he has or not, it is certain he will take concern with them in one form or other. There is a curious custom in the Scottish Universities, where the students, undergradu- ates, divide themselves into Liberals, Conser- vatives, and Independents — after the fashion of the older citizens — and nominating candi- dates from among the eminent statesmen of the time, elect a Lord Rector with all the noise, fury, and faction of a parliamentary contest. This institution has been much ques- tioned and sometimes ridiculed, and I am not aware that there is anything quite like it in seats of learning elsewhere. But it has had the advantage at least of keeping the political sympathies of the students within the limits of the constitutional parties of the country ; and as the harangue of the Lord Rector elect, which is almost the only return to the students for the honour they have done him, seldom de- scends to the political controversies of the moment, but is usually directed to some ele- vated theme of universal interest, it may be supposed to improve the minds, and contribute to the political education of those who are to be the future citizens of a free country. So far as the Scottish custom subserves these ends, it must be allowed to tend to results, not always easily attained, yet highly desirable in the character of students as subjects. It is not desirable that young men should either, on the one hand, have so poor an esti- mate of their own country, or of its institutions, as to be ready to fly into the arms of any foreign propagandism, or fanciful admiration of foreign ways of government ; or, on the other, that they should allow their natural patriotism to carry them into the bigotry of thinking that, as regards their own country, “ whatever is, is right,” and that everything contained therein is the best of its kind. Stu- dents who are wise, indeed, will not be in haste to entertain strong party convictions of any stamp. The immaturity of mind with which young men sometimes declare that they could be anything in the world but “ a Tory,” or “ a Radical,” or “ a Whig,” is very apparent to those who hear them, and is always painful to think of. The game of politics is a long one, is curiously involved, and is not likely to be apprehended or unravelled by a youthful glance, however keen, or by a partisan view, however sincere. It is seldom, indeed, to whatever party one adheres, that reason is not soon found to diSer from the party in some things, and to become somewhat dubious of party as a centre alto- gether. It is often experienced to be a cold, selfish, over-riding, and almost brutal force. The consequence is that the changes of party made in our own day and generation by states- men and politicians of the front rank, and men accoruingly of naturally clear and strong minds, have been almost as diverting as they are instructive ; and yet changes of this kind are ' never wholly happy. It is certainly better to grow up slowly into a rational stability. The attitude most becoming a student, therefore, I think, without implying political indifferentism, or refusing temperate sway to one’s leanings and convictions, such as they may be, is this : that parties are only figures on the chess- board, and that what the State is, and what its spirit and tendencies have been, are the outcome of the common inter-movement, re- I quiring patient observation to trace it in all ! its bearings as a guide for the present and the future. If an understanding of the constitution, laws, and political action of one’s own country be thus a work of some difficulty, it is hardly to be supposed that the relative merits of foreign states, and their modes of government and political artifices are to be quickly compre- hended. One has to be on guard against various kinds of foreign contagion. It startles us still to read of the fervour with which the Great Revolution in France was hailed over nearly all Europe, and the disgust in which it was re- garded immediately afterwards. Wordsworth, for example, who of one year eould write — “ Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven ! O times ! In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways Of custom, law, and statute, took at once The attraction of a country in romance ! ” And of the next ten and more could add — , "Perpetual emptiness ! unceasing change ! No single volume paramount ; no code. No master spirit, no determined road ; But equally a want of books and men ! ” So, also in these tamer times, it is not un- usual to hear British subjects professing ardent admiration of the Republican institu- tions of the United States; and on passing across the Atlantic to hear American citizens longing for the more temperate liberty and keener honour of the British Monarchy. There are certain broad lines of governmeiiL on which conviction can scarce hesitate a moment. It is impossible for any British youth not to sympa- thise with all free and constitutional States, monarchical or republican, and to observe^ 172 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. with glowing interest the soeial and political development by which nations, sunk under arbitrary power, approach a more just and noble system of rule. Yet even here are some pitfalls for the unwary ; and experienced states- men, not to speak of young students, find it hard enough to thread their way, consistently with what may be their sincere 'convictions, through the maze of party politics. The political fact of all others, which the student has chiefly to remember, is, that he owes a great deal — nearly all that he is, or may hope to become in the future — to his country ; and consequently, that, in the natural reciprocity of obligation, his country has very considerable claims upon him, in its concrete character solely as his country. All through life this should be kept in mind ; and tlie thought that whatever influence he may wield, and what reputation he may acquire, will increase the power and add to the honour of his native land, should inspire every right- thinking student to make the most of the opportunities at his command for fitting him- self to take a share in the active work of the world. But the student may have the most ardent passion of love for his country, and yet, from misunderstanding, his patriotism may take most unpatriotic-like forms of mani- festation. It is necessary at the least that he should observe the more ordinary laws of his country, as regards the common peace and order ; venerate its respect for authority, for the calm and courteous discussion which in the most free and liberal States is the only method of progress ; and weigh well the fact that a rule, whether within the walls of a college or a municipality, or extending over the whole commonwealth, is a rule until it has been reformed by all methods allowable, among which, of course, the more violent are at once the last and the worst in order. Above all, he should avoid such breaches of law as are beneath the oiwrale of the common body of citizens, and are all but universally condemned, even though they may have been partly pro- voked. In these the student becomes lost in “the rowdy ” — a species of character in which, there being no ability to teach, there is also no desire “ to learn, but only an animal impulse idly to disturb. V. § 35. English till a.d. 1066. § 36. Old English synthetical, § 37. And unmixed. § 38. Introduction of Christianity : Latin. § 39. Scandinavian invasions. § 40. English of tenth and eleventh centuries. § 41. “ English” and “Anglo-Saxon.” § 42. Norman Conquest. § 43. Influence of French. § 44. Persistence of English. § 35. The history of English in England, then, begins with the first settlement of the Jutes (or Frisians ; the historian Bede speaks of the Fresones), about 449 A.D., in Kent ; the same tribe also took the Isle of Wight and a part of Hampshire. The Angles — who came from the Duchy of Schleswig, where there is a district which still bears the name of Angeln — at different times established kingdoms in East Anglia (Norfolk, Suffolk, Cambridgeshire and parts of two adjacent counties), Beornicia (between the Tweed and the Firth of Forth), Deira (between the Tweed and the Humber), and Mercia (comprehending the midland counties). The Saxons (a.d. 477) settled in Sussex, and sixty years more saw them in Essex and the important kingdom of Wessex. Thus by the beginning of the seventh century these tribes had obtained possession of the whole of the east side of the island as far north as the Firth of Forth (where in 620 King Edwin built Edinburgh), and extending south and west, included Wiltshire, Dorsetshire, and Somersetshire. They continued their combats against the original inhabitants, till a glance at the map in the tenth century shows that they had not only consolidated their power, but had pushed the Kelts into the present county of Cornwall, beyond the Severn, and in the north- west had confined them (for a time) in the small kingdom of Strathclyde (Westmoreland, Cumberland, and the south-west counties of Scotland as far as the Clyde). In the year 924 they all were united under Edward, king of Wessex (son of Alfred the Great), who was thenceforth (and his successors after him) styled King of the Anglo-Saxons, or English — that is, of the nation formed by the union of the two. The English kings continued, with an interruption of but thirty years, till the year 1066. § 36. The language brought over by these Teutonic tribes was one and the same, with no greater differences than those of dialect. It was, firstly, an inflected language — to which, therefore, as standing among other languages, the term synthetical has been applied. The English of the present day is nearly uninflected, and is therefore termed analytical. By in- fiexions are meant those additions to or changes in the form of a word which express the various relations in which it is used. An example will show this more clearly : — Anglo-Saxon or Present English. Old English. god smi^ (“S^th) a good smith. gode smliSe by a good smith gddwm smi'Se for a good smith. gddaw smi'Se^ of a good smith. Here the endings or inflexions e, urn,, an, of the word g6d, and e, e, es, of sniiiS, answer the purpose of the woixis by,, for, and of, in the present English phrases ; the ideas of the smith and the relation expressed by the word for are combined in one word smilSe, the addition of um shows the same sense for gdd in connection with smi^e, hence we have synthesis or a placing together of ideas. A language formed upon this system is synthetical ; while, on the other hand, when, in process of time, it has lost its inflexions and replaced the notions which they ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 173 expressed by separate words, we have analysis or a separation of parts, the language is described as analytical. Thus the Old English said in the single word drincan what we now mean by the two words, to drink; and this kind of change forms one of the principal differences between ancient English and modern. § 37. Secondly, Old English in its first stages was an unmixed tongue ; it owed nothing to the Latin or Greek. Our continental forefathers had dwelt remote from Eoman civilization, and had not been touched by Koman armies or colonies. But during this period of about 600 years of Old English dominion a great nation- ality was formed, the strong language ripened, it underwent certain changes and modifications, absorbed a number of foreign elements, and grew under the use of an enterprising and self- educating race to a considerable pitch of literary culture. § 38. Two events had great influence on the language during this period : (a) the introduc- tion of Christianity by St. Augustine (A.D. 696) brought the people into connection with the Latin Church ; the priests spoke Latin, English- men were sent abroad to be educated for the service of the Church, and English writers translated Latin works into their own tongue ; so that by degrees many Latin words became familiar and passed into ordinary use. Foreign trade and travel brought in some new articles of daily use, trees, or animals, which kept their Latin names ; and in the eleventh century the same causes, together with the desire for education abroad and the residence of Frenchmen at the court of Edward the Con- fessor, were the means of introducing several French terms into the language. § 39. (k) But before the Angle and Saxon kingdoms became settled under the headship of the Saxons of Wessex, northmen of Scandi- navia, from Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, began to harass their coasts. These tribes, who were known under the general name of Danes, made their first incursion (in 787) on the coast of Dorsetshire ; during the next century they made frequent and successful invasions, so that in 878 King Alfred was forced to yield by treaty Northurnberland, East Anglia, most of Essex and part of Mercia to the Danish chief. In the tenth century they gained some further footing ; and finally, from 1013 to 1042, Danish kings ruled over all England. These successes were not enough to cast out the English, who became united in face of the common danger, and kept on winning back against their foes. Thus it was that the Danish speech did not displace the English, but, on the contrary, being veiy near akin to it (they all were of the Teutonic race), the people must have partially understood one another, and the English speech in those parts where the Danes made settlements became only partly modified by thek lan.g\iage. The inflexions of English were affected, and many Danish words crept into the speech of the people, though -not much used at first in the written language. It is a curious proof of the permanency of language among the classes of country people, where life remains somewhat stationary and custom is strong, that many Danish words are still to be found in the speech of our northern and western counties — Northumberland, Durham, Yorkshire, Lancashire, Cumberland, Lincoln, and Norfolk. Old northern writers of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, however, are full of words adopted from the Scandina- vian speech which have since gone out of use, or only survive in provincial use. § 40. The English of the later part of this period may then roughly be described thus in two groups : in the east and north of England up to the Firth of Forth (thus giving the foundation of what we now call Scotch, which is truly an English dialect) it was English of the Angles, modified by the Danish element ; in the south and west, English of the Saxons and Jutes untouched by the Danish, and culti- vated as the literary language. § 41. It will be noticed that our old lan- guage of the first six hundred years has been carefully called English or Old English. It is commonly known as Anglo-Saxon, and there is no harm in the name if it is clearly understood that the term applies, not to a foreign or sepa- rate language, but merely to one stage or period in the unbroken history of the same tongue which we now use. Much hot discussion has taken place over the term, and it is safer, in order to avoid the danger of error from the misuse of names, to call the language during this period by the name of Old English. English was the name the tribes gave themselves, according to the Saxon Chronicle, and is there- fore the rightful and appropriate name from the first ; if at a later time their writers (Asser, in his Life of Alfred, A.D. 893, is said to have been the first) used the term Anglo-Saxon, it was in order to distinguish them from the old Saxons of the Continent, whom they had left behind. For “the language called Anglo- Saxon, spoken nowhere on the Continent, but the result here of a fusion of dialects, in its vocabulary and inflexions more strongly re- sembles the old Frisian than any other. It is much nearer to old Frisian than to old Saxon.” ( H. Morley, Clement Marot, and other Studies, vol. ii., p. 263.) § 42. The Norman Conquest in 1066 forms* the beginning of a new epoch in the histoiy of English. In order to estimate rightly the great influence which this event had upon the lan- guage, a true notion must be had of the cha- racter of the conquest. It was not, like the settlement of the first English in Britain, an invasion and gradual subduing of one people by another, who imposed new laws, new religion, and new language, recognizing little or nothing of what they found before them. The coming of the Normans effected great changes; but the framework of society, the backbone, so to speak, of the people, remained English, and reasserted itself after three centuries of repression. The Norman king came over to take what he deemed his right by law, and though he carried matters with a high hand, he was forced to swear that he would govern according to the laws of the land. In the words of the great historian of this period, “ the whole importance of the 174 TBE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, Norman conquest consists in the effect which it had on an existing nation, humbled indeed, but neither wiped out nor utterly enslaved — in the changes which it wrought on an existing constitution, which was by degrees greatly modified, but which was never either wholly abolished or wholly trampled under foot ; ” and he thus indicates what these changes were: “ It brought with it not only a new dynasty, but a new nobility ; it did not expel or trans- plant the English nation, or any part of it, but it gradually deprived the leading men and families of England of their lands and offices, and thrust them down into a secondary position under alien intruders. It did not at once sweep away the old laws and liberties of the land ; but it at once changed the manner and spirit of their administration, and it opened the way for endless later changes in the laws themselves. It did not abolish the English language ; but it brought in a new language by its side, which for a while supplanted it as the language of polite intercourse, and which did not yield to the surviving elder tongue till it had affected it by the largest infusion that the vocabulary of one European tongue ever received from another.” (Freeman's History of the Norman Conynesty vol. i., pp. 2 , 4 .) § 43. French now became the language of the upper classes ; it was employed in the law, in the church, at court, in literature, in parlia- ment ; even boys learned it at school. But the old English families, and the common people, who were numerically stronger than the Nor- mans, held on to their mother-tongue. We have an incidental proof of this in the fact tliat a proclamation of Henry HI. in 1238, still existing, which was sent to every county, was made in English. Then in process of time (it was going on during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries) the two peoples settled down to- gether, they intermarried, learned each other's tongues, and became one ; and the language of the majority, richly increased by contact with the French, regained its sway in the land, and became in this altered state once more the tongue employed by all classes. At last Nor- man-French gi'adually died out, and ceased to be spoken in England. In 1362 (36 Ed. III.) an Act of Parliament ordered that proceedings in the courts of law should be in English, because the “ French tongue is much unknown in the realm yet though it was desired that “their laws and customs be learned and used in the tongue of the country,” some use of French lingered on so long that many proceedings in Parliament were recorded in that language for nearly a centuiy later (2.5 Hen. VI., a.d. 1447), and the statutes continued to be drawn up in F’rench till 3 Hen. VIE, 1487.* In 1389, not thirty years after the Act of Ed- ward III., writs were issued for particulars to be given of the constitution and funds of the gilds among the people : out of nearly five hundred returns sent in to the Chancery from different parts of the country, only fifty-one * To this day the royal assent to Acts of Parliament is given in the old French words Le Boy le veult, or Soitfait come il est desire. were in English, between thirty and forty were in French, and the rest in Latin. § 44. Several writers from time to time, in spite of the predominance of French, wrote in the native tongue {e.g. Layamon, and the authors of Orniulunh and the Ancren Rlwle, all between 1200 and 1240), And others translated poems, treatises, and romances from the French, by which means the written language was enriched with many new terms. A northern writer of the end of the thirteenth century, prefacing the Cursor Mnndi, a long religious poem which he compiled and trans- lated, says : “ This, ilke boke es translate V nto engliss tung to rede, For the luue of englijs lede, Engl is lede of meri ingeland. For the comen to vnderstand. Seldom was for ani chance Englis tong preched in France ; Gif we arle), je donnei'ai, I shall give {donnere). bhould, as it oecurs in interrogations, the je be put after the verb, the sound would become open, as aije ? have I ? (e-jC), parlai^jc ? did I speak ? (parle-je), etc. Further, = e in gai, gale, cheerful (^ghe), gawte or gatte Qjliete), gaieinent or gaimcnt (^glteman'). b. The above seem to be the only cases where ai fairly claims to possess the sound of e, and it would indeed be a comfort to add that in all other cases ai ~ e. But between the two extremes there lies the debatable ground of ai with the semi-close sound, (see § 22), for which no categorical rules exist. The following may serve as useful hints : — (1) At the beginning or in the body of a word, when aiis not followed by a mute syl- lable, it has a semi-close sound ; otherwise it is open. Semi-close. Open. ^aigii, sharp aigre, sour (egre') raissellc, plate (^seT) aigle, eagle {egle') aisance, comfort a /. s-c, comfort (eie') attrait, charm traite, draft ftr'ete') plaisir, pleasure f raise, ^trsawherrj^f reze') haiscr, kiss je baise, I kiss(^>e::^0 laid, ugly laide, ugly Q'ede') graimnairicn, gram- clair, claire, clear maria n feeder o'). (2) Aimer, to love, preserves the semi close sound, even when a mute syllable follows ai, rL^j'aime, I love. Aider, to help, on the other hand, is always open : say Me, (3) In words ending with ai the semi-close sound appears ; but ai final, followed by e, es, ent, s and x {all mute terminations) lias the sound of e : — Semi-close. Open. balai, broom ais, plank (e) geai, jay laies, wild sows (le) mai, may ils acaient, they had (ave) quai, wharf faix, burden {fe) vrai, true vraie, true (vre) (4) Some read je sals, I know, tn sais, thou knowest, il salt, he knows, je se, tu se, il se ; but sais-je ? do I know ? se-je. And some pro- nounce dower, and douairiere, dowager, dou-are, dou-a-riere ; this is obsolete, the modern version being dou'ere, doueriere. c. Ai = e mute in the syllable fais, forming a part of some tenses of the verb Jaire, to do, to make, and in the derivatives of faire : =fe-sant (in poetry),/’m«^ (familiarly). /fli.w«s = fe-sons ( do. ')fsons{ do. ) and so in contrefaisons, refaisaient, bienfaisant, faisable, faisanccs, etc. But to apply this rule, as some grammars do, to faisan, a pheasant, and its derivatives faisane, faisande, faisandeau, faisander,fdisanderiG, faisandier, is a mistake ; and here fai ought to be pronounced f'e (see b'). d. Ai==a when it is followed by I or II liquid (see § 67) : detail, detail ailleurs, elsewhere (a-llieurs'), taille, size (ta-lV), Ver- sailles, Versailles (versa-lV'). And also in J/e/i- taigne, the philosopher’s name, say Montague, not Montegne. Cavaignac = Cavagnac. e. Ai followed by n or m is nasal, as in pain, bread, /am, hunger ; this peculiar sound is destroyed either by a vowel following n and m, or by the diaeresis plaeed over i : lainage, woollen stuff (le-nage), almable, amiable (e-mable) Cain, Cain {ca-in-, in is nasal — cf. § 43 by § 32. Ai = e. Chatne, chain (sbxne'), maitre, master (metre), il disparait, he disappears (dispare), § 33. Atb = o, with very few exceptions. a7(., aiox, to the (d) landau, landau (lan-do) aube, dawn (obe) lourdaud, clumsy fellow (loor-d6) aussi, also (6-si) chaume, thatch (shonne). Here are the only genuine exceptions which, after diligent research, we have been able to discover. 1st, at the beginning of a word : aurore, dawn (orore), aurifere, gold-yielding (or if ere), and in the future and conditional of verb aroir, tohave—j’aurai, tu auras, etc. (ore, 07'a),j''aurais, etc. (oi'e) ; 2nd, in the body of a word : maiire, mauresque, Moorish (gnore)^ taureau., bull (tord), taureador^ bull-fighter (toreador), taurobole, expiatory sacrifice of a bull (torobol) ; saur, satire, sa^iret, saurer, fish- curing and smoking (soi‘) ; Sauterne, white claret (Soterncj ; Pa^d, Paul (pol ), — but in any derivative of the same ; in the future and conditional of verb savoir, to know : je saurai, etc., je saurais (sore, sore). It must be added that most educated Parisians extend the open sound to the syllable aur wherever it presents itself ; for instance, they pronounce centaurc, Laure, lam'ier, restaurant, restau- rateur, etc., as if they were written with c; most of them, also, say movais for mauvais, bad, and not moeais ; liolocauste they pronounce holocoste. There are not many more "vvords to which this remark could apply. § 34. Ay =1 e. It has been pointed out that the combination of y wdth any vowel presents both a compound vowel (here ai = e) and the sound i short, which, with any following vowel, forms a diphthong. This is the case here. Pays, country (pe-i), page, salary (pe-i, but some say pe). Payement, settlement, however, is more generally pronounced pement, for which reason the word is also spelt paiement or patment. Payeiir, paymaster (pe-ieur), layette, drawer or swaddling clothes (le-iette) ; layetier, packing- box maker (Ve-ie-ticr), metayer, farmer renting on the footing of dividing profits with landlord MUSIC. 187 (te-ier). In ayant, ayons, etc., parts of aroir, to have, pronounce e-ian, e-ion, etc. But in ay an, superior Turkish oflBcer of police, bayadere, nautch girl, Bayard, Mayenne, May cnee ,imyelle, pan for salt-relining, pagan, treat y as one i, and say a-ian, ba-ia-d'ere, Ba-iard, Ma-ienne, Ma-ience (/aw,9, cf. 45), pa-ielle, pa-ien. (See § 45.) Bayer, to gape, though pronounced by some bai-ier, is less consistently, but more generally, pronounced ba-ier. In proper names, where ay is followed by a consonant, or where ay (also aye) forms the final syllable, ay is pronounced e : Corday, Orsay, Vevay ; Bayle, Baymond ; la Haye, Houssaye. § 35. Eau = o. — Examples : eav, water (p), chameau, camel (slianid), beaute, beauty (bbtef No exceptions. § 36. Ei = e. — Examples : baleine, whale (baVenel), yjleine, full Qjdene'). In a few words, the sound is very long : reine, queen (p'ene), reitre, German mercenary Qi'etre). In some words the sound is a little closer arid recalls the semi-close e, but this hair-splitting would be of no practical use to the English student. § 37. a. Eu and oeu have two sounds, one close and the other open. The latter resem- bles that of n in murder, but well drawn out ; the former has no equivalent in English. To produce it, pronounce the same word murder, while bringing closer together your lips and jaws, and starting the sound from the roof of the mouth and not from the centre of it. The German sound o is an equivalent for eu close. b. The close sound occurs — 1st, at the be- ginning of the words eueliaristie, euplionie, cucolaye, Eugene, Eugenie ,eupatoire , Eumenides, euphorbe, eudiste, Eustaclie, etc. ; 2nd, at the end of words, whether eu and oeu are followed or not by inarticulated consonants (or eu by an e umte), bleu, bleue, bleus, bleues, blue (also bleuatre, bleuir), noeud, knot, r(^u, wish, vceux, wishes, il pent, he can, neveux, nephews, bceufs. oxen, monsieur, sir, messieurs, gentlemen ; 3rd, before tr : feutre, felt, cal- feutrer, to stop chinks, neutre, neutral, neu- traliser, neutralite, etc. ; 4th, before x and s having the soft sound of z (see §§74 and 82) : creuse, hollow, creuser, to dig out, gracieuse, graceful, gracieusement, gracefully, deuxicme, second, deuxi'emcment, secondly ; 5th, when the circumflex is over the n in eu ; jeune, fast, jeuner, jeuneur, jeuneuse. c. The open sound occurs — 1st, when eu and ecu are placed before r : jJeur, iQQx,malheur, misfortune, soeur, sister, sieur, sir (yet close in monsieur and messieurs, words in which the r is quite mute), Europe, Europe, feur, flower, iieurir, to bloom ; 2nd, before any other arti- culated final consonant : tilleul, linden-tree, filleul, god-son, seul, alone, oeuf, egg, boeuf, ox, veuf widower ; 3rd, before I liquid (see § 66) ; deuil, mourning, linceul, shroud, — add ceil, eye, and its derivatives oeillade, ceillet, etc.; 4*th, l>efore any final mute syllable : oeuvre, work, cou- leuvre, snake, jeune, young, meute, pack of hounds, preuve, proof, ils veulent, they wish, queje veuille, that I may feu Hies, leaves, aveugle, blind. The derivatives of the above have also the open sound : jeunesse, youth. veuvage, widowhood, desoeuvrement, idleness, aveuglement, blindness, etc. Beniark. — In all the forms of avoir where. eu ap{)ears, it has the sound of the French u : eu, had (?0 ; j'etts, I had (zhuj, 7ious eumes, we. had {noo-zumes'), que vous eussiez, that youi might have (fie voo zussic), etc. Also in gageure, bet, mangeure, nibbling, gnawing of moths, etc., vergeure, water-mark in paper,, and a few more where e is used for the soften- ing of g (pronounce gazhure, manzhure, ver- zhure). Only in one instance does c?/ followed by form a nasal i-ound, — a jeu7i, fasting ; this is destroyed by an e mute, as shown by the examples cited in Z/ 5 of this section. EXERCISE V. Eead aloud with the close sound : AdieUy a'ieux, Andrieux, Ambleteuse, boudeuse, boueux, ceux, creuse, dclicleux, Dreux. eux, feu, Greuze, gueux, hargneuse, heureux, jeu, joyeux, lieu,, licentieux (t = s), je meus, tu meus, il meut, meunier, noeuds, oeufs, qAeutre, queue. I'cceuse^ serieux, terreux, voeu, veeux, yeux. Bead with the open sound : ai'eul, boudeur, cueille, deuil,. epagneul, feuillage, gueule, heure, jeune, lin- ceul,* meule, meubles, ils meuvent, neuf, neufs, neuve, neuvms, oeillette, peur, queussi-queumi, seul, seuls, seule, seules, treuil, veuille. § 38. Ey = e. Examples : bey, governor of Turkish province, also ruler of Tunis (be)', dey,. title of the old governor of Algiers (de)', Meyr- ville (mer-ville). Key (nej, Volney (^vol-nc). Grasseyer, to burr (or bur, a huskiness in sounding the letter r, as if a flock of wool were in the throat), is pronounced gra-se-ie, whereas grasseyment and grasseyeur are respectively pronounced gra-se-y e-man, gra-se-ieur. § 39. G3 vin du Riiiii, Ehenish tcine, hock. 19G TUE VNIVEItSAL INSTRUCTOR. le vin vieux du Rhin, oIJ hock. les liqueurs, Uqueitrs. I’arack, arrack. I’eau-de-vie, hranHy. le preni^vre, ffini le rlium (/u*. rom'), le Avliiskey, vhivkcy. le punch, {pr. ponsh), punch. le caf^*, coffee. le cafe noir, black coffee. le cafe au lait, coffee vith milk. le theO»’. te), feo. le cbocolat, chocolate. la limonade, lemonade. pazeuse, bottled do. de I’eau glacee, iced u-afer. I’orfreat, almond-milk. des "laces, icex. des sorbets, icale, until they become .a rock differing only from granite in the ar- rangement of their crys- talline constituents ; and there is reason to believe that in some instances dliis line has been passed and the gneiss has been further metamorphosed into true granite. The jiassage quoted above, however, incidently illus- trates another fact — that limestone full ofLiii fossils may be changed into a crys- talline rock in which no trace of these remains. We know that this has been done on a large scale in the A p e 11 n i n e s. The celebra- ted Carrara marble is a beautiful crys- talline stone used in scul})- ture. free from organic re- mains. and at uie time con- jectured to have been an igneous rock. It is. however, a metamor- ]>liosed sedi- mentary rock ; and even its title age has lieen deter- mined by the discovery of a tow shells not character to that which forms so important a feature of the Mendiji range. We append in a tabular form (sec centre of next page) a list of metamorphic rocks, ac- cording to Prof. Judd. This table, it will be observed, infers only to sedimentary rocks. Metamorphism and change are, however, going on in igneous as well as stratified rocks, ®^®tamorphism and in these also water iilays an important part. To tlie heat assoc i ate d water or va- ])our could force its way through either hard or soft- ened clay, but it can make its way through argill aceous rocks when they have been changed into crystal- line masses. Besides heat- ed water from b e 1 o w , w c have the per- colation of Av.atcT from ihe surface. 'I’his, charged, with carbonic acid taken ui> from the at- mosphere and tlie decaying vegetation in the soil, ])OS- s e s s e s the power of dis- solving to some extent the mineral CO list i tiients of rocks, and of giving rise to fresh combinations. Changes are ilins xf no which often materially alter ontirely obli- tintil w'lth and generated by movements in the crust of the earth, such as wo have seen recorded in the curving and crumpling of the strata of the Men- dips. and the rising and sinking of the w^hole mass, must be added the frequent passage upwards of steam and mineral vapours, and waters charged with mineral matters. In all crystal- line rocks and mechani- cally foi-med sedimentaiy rsToxE 11.1.1)1-. UP OF coH.iLs {Fucotsitcs poltjmovpha)^ strata, except clay, these would find at least a partial pas- sage. No THE rXIVERSAL INSTRUCT Oil. IVS the minute structure of rock masses. Indeed, it ma}^ almost he said to be the rule latlier tliaii the exce})tiou to meet with minerals in a condition more or less the result of ehaji^ue. in microsco])ic sections of igneous rucks. Ser- pentine is now known to be^ frequently an altered basic rock. Dolomitic or magnesian limestone is a metamorphic condition of ordi- nary limestone. Dexudatiox. The formation of new strata (rock making), and , ^ the destruction of existing strata enu a on. (-(jen^i^ij^tion) arc always going on. The wearing away, for instance, of the coast by the sea is a matter of common observatioii. Where the shore is composed of hard rocks the waves have comparatively little effect, though even the hardest stone is gradually broken uj) and every successive tide does sometliing towards its destruction. On softer rocks the action of the waves is sometimes very marked, and suffi- ciently rapid to be easily measured. The east coast of England, where the sea has made con- siderable inroads within historic times, is perhaps as forcible an illus- tration as could be found. Sir Charles Lyell * has collected the facts with great care, and from his account we condense a few par- ticulars. Almost the whole coast of T'orlcshire, from the mouth of the Tees to that of the Hum- ber, is in a state of gradual dilapida- tion. That part of the cliffs which con- sists of lias, oolite and chalk decays d lETA.AK ) I{ l‘H r C Hoc KS. SILICEOUS. 1 -VlUilLLACEOUS. j CALCAREOUS. Slifflitly alterod ^-Quartzite ( '( 1 Lydian stone. Porcelain jasper ( Compact and •' snhcrystalline ( limestone. Dolomite. Slaty rockt? ( Clay .slate ) ' mica slate f •• •• 'i 'I’alc sliite I Chlorite slate. Schistose rock.-5 / \ Quartz j \ fccheifer j ' mica schist Chlorite schist Talc schist Hornhlende schist ^ .\etinolite schist. , 1 Calc scheifer. Gneissoso ' rocks ( Graiiulite . . _ Giieisseu . . 1 Graphic . . ( granite , Bed gneiss , Gray gneiss , Garnet, stanro- lite.tournialiue, and other recks. , 1 Highly crys- ( talline and ( serpentinons \ lime.stone. TABLE or 31ETA-UOKPH1C KOCKS(.vcep. 197). slowly. “ The chalk cliffs are M'or]i Waste on the j^to caves and needles in the pro- east coast of jecting headland of Flamborough, England. 'where they are decomposed by the salt spray, and slowly crumble away. But the waste is most rapid between that promon- tory and Spurn Point, or the coast of Holderness, as it is called — a tract consisting of beds of clay , gravel, sand, and chalk rubble. The irregular intermixture of the argillaceous (clayey) beds causes many springs to be thrown out. and this facilitates the undermining process ; the waves beating against them, and a strojig current setting in chiefly from the north. The waste- ful action is very conspicuous at Dimliugton Height, the loftiest point in Holderness, where the beacon stands on a cliff 146 feet above high water, the whole being composed of clay, with pebbles scattered through it.” For many * “Principles of Geolo v,“ vol. i., chap. 20, cars,” says Professor Phillips, “the rate at Avhich the cliffs recede from Bridlington to- ypuni, a distance of thirty-six miles, has been found by measurement to equal on an average two and a quarter yards annually, Avhich upon thirty-six miles of coast Avould amount to about thirty acres a year. At this rate the coast, the mean height of which above the sea is about forty feet, has lost one mile in breadth since the iSTorman Conquest, and more than two milesi since the occupation of York by the Homans.”, The destruction which has thus taken place, has obliterated toAvns and villages the former sites of Avhioh are now Disappearanc nothing but sandbanks in the German Ocean. Auburn, Hart- ® burn and Hyde, have been destroyed in thiS' way. Owthorne and Kilnsea do not occupy their original sites, the inhabitants having moved further inland to escape the sea. Bavens- l)er, at one time a noted port, and memorable as the place Avhere Bolingbroke tafterwards- Henry IV.) landed on his return from banishment, ha,^- shared the fate of less important places, and where it once stood nothing is now to be seen but the ex- tensive sands which are left dry at low water. On the coast of Norfolk, the A'illagesof Ship- den, Wimpwell and Eccles have disap-- peared ; the tower of the old church, of Eccles still re- mains upon the sea shore. The gradual destruction of Dun- wich — “ once the most considerable seaport ” on the coast of Suffolk, is. to be traced in its details through various records, beginning. Avith the Doomsday Book, in Avhich it is stated that two tracts of land Avhich had l)ecn taxed in the time of Edward the Con- fessor had since been destroyed. Subsequent records shoAv at different times the loss of a monastery — several churches — the old port — four hundred houses — the church of St.. Leonard’s — the ToAA'n Hall — and the Gaol. The dates of the successiA'e destruction of all these have been preserved. In the sixteenth century not one-quarter of the toAvn AA'as left standing. The inhabitants had gradually retreated inland and the sea folloAA'ed them. In 1740 the church- yard of St. Nicholas and St. Thomas Avas laid open ; the burial ground had become by the inroads of the sea a part of the cliffs, and the coffins and skeletons were exposed to ,vieAv. DunAvich as a city has been eaten up ; it is. noAv only a, little village Avith a fcAV houses and. a small population. ANCIENT IIISTOIIY. 199 Without going farther into details, or at- tempting to trace the ravages of the sea along the whole extent of the eastern and south- eastern coast of this country, the facts thus briefly given will be sufficient to show how destructive the sea may be under some circum- stances. Here and there, where the set of the current has been favourable, the land has gained upon the water ; but this is not the ordinary work of the ocean, — which is more generally dcstnictirc, as it wears away the strata that form the shore-line against which its waves beat — and consti'iictive only as it lays down and spreads out whatever material it receives, to be raised at some future time above the sea level by the action of subterranean forces. The reader will however be likely to overestimate the destructive power of the sea if he fixes his attention too exclusively upon such illus- trations as those just supplied. The matter worn away from the thirty-six miles of the Yorkshire coast, mentioned above, has been calculated to amount to between fifty-one and fifty-two million cubic feet every year, and it is obvious that this must be immensely above the averarje waste of the coast lines of the world. But the erosive power of the ocean will be as surely underestimated unless the fact already referred to is borne in mind, that there is no rock sufficiently hard to withstand entirely its persistent action. The greatest possible power has probably been exerted when, by the sinking or rising of land, the surface has been brought immediately below the sea leveL The whole extent of the country would then undergo a planing process ; and it is believed that plains of marine denudation — that is, large tracts of land levelled by the action of the sea — are still recognizable in formations of ancient date. VI. The Babylonian and Assyeian Empiees. (co7itinvrd.) About 1200 b.c., Assur-dan I. succeeded his father Xinip, and in his reign of thirty years the i)rosperity of the eountry was partially restored. If he did not recover all the lost jn’ovinces, he was strong enough to invade liabylonia and revenge the attacks made on his father. His successor was his son, Mutag- gil-nuska, who reigned for nearly twenty years, but regarding whom no records are pre- served, except a brief reference to his rebuild- ing the i)alace at Nineveh. Another figure is added to the long line of vigorous Assyrian kings, in the person of Assur-risilim, son of the ju’eneding monarch, who ascended the throne about 1150, and whose thirty years’ reign was contemporaneous with that of Nabu-kudur-yutsur (X'ebuchad- nezzar) of Babylonia, who must not be con- fused witli the more famous monarch of the same name, so conspicuous in the Biblical history six hundred years later. Under Assur- nsilim the military spirit of the Assyrians revived. He repelled three inroads of the Babylonians, subdued and absorbed into his empire extensive districts on the north and north-east, rebuilt the palace at Nineveh, and splendidly restored the temple of Ishtar in that city. It has "been justly said that the reign of Tugulti-pal-eser, or Tiglath-Pileser, ‘‘ forms an era in Assyrian history.” (The Babylonian monarch of the same Tiglath-Pileser. name mentioned in the Biblical Books of Chronicles and Kings, and by the prophet Isaiah, lived about four hundred "years afterwards.) On his aceession, about 1120" B.c.. Tiglath-Pileser hastened to show that he was a worthy successor of his warlike father. A Hittite tribe of northern Syria, the Muski, had occupied the provinces tributary to Assyria, in the region of the upper Euphrates, and five chiefs, with a force stated to be twenty thousand strong, held the country. During the reign of Assur-risilim their farther progress had been stayed; but on his death they advanced and took possession of the province of Kum- muha, lying near the sources of the Tigris and on both sides of the Euphrates. Tiglath at once marched into the province at the head of a large army, defeated the Muski generals, taking a large number of captives, and then stormed the city of Seris, on the Tigris, where many of the people of the country had taken refuge, destroyed the city, and took the king, Kili-teru, with his wives and children, prisoners. He followed up this success by attacking the city of Urran pines, and an indei)endent district named Panari — the king of which, 8adi-teru, submitted to him, accepting the position of a tributary to Assyria, and delivering up his sons as hostages. Other victories followed, and other districts were annexed, heavy tri- butes being exacted ; the Hittite tribes sub- mitted, terrified at his approach, giving up their war-chariots and other i)ropcrty. In another campaign he took twenty-five cities, districts occu])ied in the time when the power of Assyria had been weakened were restored, and large; tributes were paid. On the south-east, as well’ as on the north, the borders of the empire were extended, and twenty-five imagc,s of the godA were carried away to be ifiaced in the temples of Nineveh. Meanwhi le, ho wever, the rival empire of Baby- lonia had been growing in strength. Nabu- kudur-yutzur (Nebuchadnezzar), who had suffered so severe a defeat from the Assyrian king, ^ ^ Assur-risilim, had met with better fortune in his wars with the Elamite princes, who had re- ])eatcdly attacked the south-western juovinces of the empire, but who were effectually sub- dued. The next king of Babylonia, Maruduk- nadin-ahi, or Merodneh, delenniucd to attack Assyria, and with a considerable army invaded the southern provinces. Tiglath promptly met him, but with less than his accustomed fortune. He was defeated and compelled to 200 TJ[E UXIVEIISAL JXSTUUCTOlt. Tctreat, the Babylonians cai)turing the city of Hekali, and carrying away sacred Assyrian images. This was in about the eleventh year of the reign of Tiglath, who displayed great )cfore the Babylonian expedition, he attacked the districts adjoining the Upper Euphrates, subduimr sixteen hitherto independent chiefs, cattle fell into the hands of the victorious As- syrians, who took hostages from the conquered tribes, and compelled them to jiay a tribute of twelve hundred horses and two thousand oxen. A result of this great success Avas that other districts submitted, and made large presents to the conqueror. TiglatlTs next cx]icditiou was against the region of the western Eujihrates. where hcAvns equally successful. — the country was ravaged, KXGLISIL ({RAMMAR. 201 ii.iid the river being crossed by means of inflated skins, six towns were captured. He afterwards led an army into the conutry north of his empire, beyond the mountain range of Tabel- Hakluh. annexing regions which a}’C named on the inscriptions Muzur and Qumani, which it is not easy to identify. In a place known as Hunasa, he built a fortifled tower, in which lie ])laced tablets of copper engraved with records •of his campaigns. Other warlike and successful expeditions followed ; and there still remains a tablet, near the source of the Tigris, commemo- rating his victories in that direction. The most extended of his expeditions was into Syria, and across the Lebanon to tlie shores of the Mediterranea]!, on which Expe^tion ^le embarked, and an inscription into byria. ^ dolphin. Like his great predecessor Nimrod, lie was a migiity hunter," and i)robal)ly was as jn'oud of his'achievements in the chase as of his mili- tary renown. It is recorded that he killed a hundred and twenty lions, besides other wild animals, hunted wild bulls on the mountains •<'f Lebanon; and at Assur he had large gardens, where strange and savage animals were kept ; among them, perhajjs, the '•rocodile sent to him as a com])liment by the king of Egypt. He restored the tcnijfle of A^Mir, adding two enormous towers, one of which still exists ; and in it was found, on an <'.ngrave(l cylinder, the narrative nf his achieve- ments. He cleared out and rc})aired the great ^•anal. which had been cut to su))])ly the city with water, but had become uscIcj-s through accumulations and decay ; and besides other important works, he comjflcted the splendid palace at Nineveh which his father had begun. This jtowerful monarch, who had made Assyria the foremost emjure of the world, died in 1,100 B.C. His son, inheriting his father’s ambition, if not his ability, took the title of Assur-bel-kala, “lord of all.” Little is known of his reign, beyond that he was engaged in warfare with the Babylonians. He was followed by his brother, Samsi-vul ; but after his death there is a long blank in the records. Mr. George Smith says, in his ‘‘Assyria from the Earliest Times,” — ‘‘For a j)eriod of a hundred and fifty years, the inscriptions afford us only one ray of light: they record that a disaster overtook the Assyrian arms. The king of Aram (Syria) defeated the Assyrians in the reign of Assur- rabu-amor ; Pethon and Mutkinu fell, and with them they lost the whole region of the Euphrates and Nairi.” Here, in this historical silence, we may fitly pause. Henceforth the history of Assyria and Babylon will be partly associated with that of a nation, the records of which are of the pro- foundest interest. About twenty-five years after the death of Tiglath, David was born at Bethlehem; and before Assyria again emerged into prominence, Solomon had lived and died, and the rival kiTigdoms atellitcs -seem to disappear, and reajijiear always at the edge of the planet ; but this is no longer the case if the earth be a little on one side of the sun, as it almost ahvaysis — say in the direction j E, as it is tAvice a year. We see that the first satellite disappears in the shadoAv at V" before it reaches the edge of the planet, but reappears from behind the edge of the planet at 1. The same is true of the ii. and III. satellites. The IV. satellite disappears in the shatloAv at i'" and reappears at 4" on the same side of the planet, then disajqiears at the edge of the planet at 4', and reajipears at the opposite edge at 4. When a satellite is lost in the shade av of the planet it is said to bo eclipsed ; Avhen it disappears behind the edge of the })]anet it is said to undergo o c G ill t at io n ; Avhilst Avhon the satellite passes in front of the} Janet there is said to be a transit. Astronomers soon found that the satellites and planet ap})eared to be equally bright, so that Avhen the satellite })assed in front of Ju})iter, and ought to be seen moving across the disc of the } Janet, it Avould not be visible, for it Avould a})pear just as bright as the rest of the surface of the ])lanet. and could not be distinguished from it. But they also saAV that the moons Avould cast a shadoAv as Avell as the jjlanet, and that Avherever the shadoAv of the satellite fell on the })lanet, it Avould ai)})ear as a black s})ot. These black s}jots or shadoAvs ought to be visible in transit. Galileo and his contem})oraries looked atten- tively to see these shadows, but entirely Avithout suecess, for their telesco})es Avere not sufficiently })0Aver- f ul . G radually - m ore })erfect telesco})es Avere made, and made on a slightly diliereut })rin- ciple. Galileo's teles- cope, as already stated, consisted of a large convex lens at one end and called an objeet-glass. Avhilst at the other end AA’as a small concave lens called an eye- }Jece. because it is ])ut next to the eye. It is not easy to make these telesco} 7 es \’ery^ poAver- ful. though they may be made to magnify fifty times. The illusti’ious Ke}Jer suggested a modifica- tion of this design, AA’hieh AA’as to use a small ])0\A’erful convex lens as an eye- _ piece instead of a concave lens. Ihe first to use a telescojAe of this telescopes, kind Avas the Jesuit Scheiner. Avho in 1630 construeted the first Ke}Jerian tele- scope. This Avas found to be a decided imjirovc- 'd y6 VEA VS {iirc ovt-r men — the real Avorth of their char.acter is often a h.ard problem. People Avill PHYSICAL GEO GRAPIIY. 207 go on disputing about the relative -worth of a Pitt and a Fox, and the iitility or inutility of their respective public labours for generations, without being able to settle it. If a conqueror like Bonaparte, who literally ivades through blood, is more easily disposed of, after a generation or two, as a scourge both to his own •country and to mankind, what shall we say when the question is raised whether a great author, who did nothing all his life but write books, shedding only ink profusely, has had a beneficial or a pernicious influence on the world I Of men whose career has been one of crime only, it is often said that there was much good stuff in them, and what a ]nty it was not under better guidance ! Force of character, even when allied with a life of violence and offence, exercises a strange fasci- nation over us. But force of character is good for nothing but in the spirit by which it was actuated, and the good ends to which it was directed, and which it may in some measure have promoted or accomplished. So far we have been speaking of character in its length and breadth — of the whole man, as it were. But in actual experience character is found to split itself up into mere traits. It is not the whole character w'c think of, Imt only what is chiefly distinctive in the character of a person, and not onl}'- of a person, but peculiar to an office, a class, or an occu])ation. In the portraiture of character, whether on the stage, or in novels, or in a picture, it is often seen what a treat is afforded to the mind out of veiy little ; but that little well selected, one part delicately shading into another, and aU well set .off. The materials may be few and simple, but they are all necessary, and must -all be combined in their due co-relations and proportion. These arc not strong characters, but they arc strong of their kind. There is the ■character which jn’ovokes our laughter, and the character which commands our reverence. The character which rouses our anger, and the ■character which moves our pity. The character which fills us with admiration, and the character Avhich incurs our contempt. There is the cha- racter which, without speaking a word or doing a single act, and simply lool's, interests us as much as any. And there is the character which fails, and the character Avhich succeeds ; and so on. j The last two, by the waj*. which may be drawn on a much broader canvas than the i others, present a rather curious case. For the issue will almost wholly depend (Ui the Kdiaracter of the people among whom they operate. Reverse the character of the world ■or community in which they move, and the •subjects of the piece may almost cxcliange I)laccs. The character which succeeds in the ■one case will be the one that fails in the other ; amd the character which fails will be i the one that succeeds. I am not so sure that j we have been living in an age when the clia- aucter that succeeds would be a highly moral. | ■estimable, \vell-doing, and beneficent person, j to feel that there may not be some danger j in de{)icting the qualities necessary to sucli n ' character. The ‘-gospel of success” has been ! preached so loudly, that success in its most material aiid worhlly form is now our all too- prevailing motive, and we have becoine more than at any former period a nation of much worse character than -would be deseribed l)y Napoleon’s derisive term of “ shopkeepers.” But Avithout risk of encouraging the bad or disappointing the reasonable hopes of the good, it may surely Ije added that truthfulness, integrity, diligence, perseverance in a fi]-inly honest course, even at the hazard of non- success, willingness to work for one’s bread in the love of work, and to communicate out of one’s abundance in the spirit of true stcAvard- •ship and true kindness, are qualities which Avill command conflden(3e, respect, and honour in any community or country, however tem- porarily fallen from a high estate. . VI. It would a})pear to bo an obvious conclusion that the proportion of saline ingredients of the sea must be rapidly increasing. The action of springs in disinte- Increase of grating the earth "is incessant. saltness. jMillions {)f tons are annually poured into the sea, and the jn-ocess of evaporation is ])cr- ])ctually restoring to the land the fresh water so carried away. That the saline mateilals are increasing is a fact, but at a very slow, almost imperccptilde. rate; and it is interesti 7 ig to ascertain hoAv the balance is so nearly ]>rc- served. The sea is a great chemical laboratory, in which the alkalies (chloride of , sodium among them) decom})osc ^henucal action, the lime salts, generating cai-bonatc of lime, which is taken up by growing ])lants and animals, cs])ecially those engaged in building up the coral formations Ave have described, and shell-fishes ; scaAveeds absorb j)otash salts and ])hosphatcs: the phostffiatc of lime ])assgs into the bones of fishes ; and iodine is concentrated not only in seaAA'ceds but in sponges, Avhich also take up silicates : thus, as one able Avritm- remarks, “the various elements i)ass from the Avatcr into animal and vegetable tissues, l)y the decay of Avhich oji land, or in the oanisms ; and the bubbling sprino^s and rapid rivers are ])er- petually eontributin.<; materials for the building of the gigantie coral reefs and islands of the southern seas. The result of long-continued cxj)eriments on this subject docs not Avarrant us in stating more than a few general conclusions. Temperature of j'pg temperature diminishes fi’om the ocean. eciuator to the poles, and that of the northern hemisphere is generally higher than that of the .southern. It is generally lower at midda}^ and higher at midnight than 70° X. and S., the line of unvarying tempera- ture descends to 4,200 feet, a Avarmth retained in the dee})est parts Avhich have been reached. We may therefore conclude that the normal heat of the sea in all parts, Avhen beyond the range of action of the sun's rays, is about 39“ Fahrenheit, or 17 degrees al)ove freezing : and it has been ascertained that .seasonal vici.ssi- tudes of temperature produce no effect at the de])th of 300 feet. The oceanic Avarmth equator, as it is termed, or the line of the greatest AA’armth at the sur- face, docs not coincide Avith the geographical equator, but runs for the most jAart on the north. THE SHAKSPEAI that of the atmosphere at the same places. The average temperature at a considerable distance from land is greater than that of the atmosphere Avith Avhich it is in contact : and Avhere the Avater is shalloAV, as over a sandbank, it is colder than in deei)er places. There is a line of unvarying temperature, about 39° Fahrenheit, marking the limit of the influence of the 'sun's heat. In equatorial regions the line is at the depth of niore than 7,000 feet. About lat. 5G° 26' IS., and the same parallel 8., it rises to the surface, the AA'atcr having the same tcmijcrature at all depths. Farther north and south, to about CHIEF, DOVEr. of it, except in the Avestern Pacific, Avhere it is to the south of the line. The absolute greatest heat of surface AA'ater, 88° Fahrenheit, is in the Gulf of Mexico, lat. 28° N. The colour of the ocean varies considerably in different parts — a fact AA'hich has given rise to the popular names. White. Yellow, lied, and Black, applied Colour of the to seas Avhich exhibit marked departures from the general standard. Some liersons avIio have never seen the sea, and derive their chief notions of it from poimlar poetry, might 1)e puzzled to decide Avhich of the melodious plu'ascs, “ deep green sea,'’ or CIIEMI&TRY. 209 1 the dark lilue sea,” was the more authentic. Byron, who certainly had seen the sea, but more of the Mediterranean than of any other part, wrote, “ EoU on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll ” ; but Shakespeare makes Macbeth say that his bloodstained hand would “ The multitudinous seas incarnadine. Making the green one red.” And “ sea-green ” is a common expression. Indeed, the colour of the sea might be made as much the subject of theoretical discussion as the colour of the chameleon, in Merrick’s well- known poem. The propagation of light through water is not carried far below the surface, the influence at the depth of 300 feet being scarcely equal to the glimmer of twilight, and at about twice that depth there is perpetual darkness. Light, on entering the Cause of colour, -^yater, is refracted, and more or less resolved into its primary colours. Red, orange and yellow rays do not penetrate to so great a depth as blue and violet, and conse- quently the colour of the reflected light will depend to a considerable extent on the depth at which the reflection takes place. But the sea is also a vast mirror, and gleams of sunshine, the tints of the atmo- sphere and of pass- ing clouds are re- flected. It also contains myriads of animalculse, and substances inter- mediate between the animal and vegetable king- doms; and changes of colour are pro- duced by the na- ture of earthy sub- stances infused. In the GuR of Guinea the sea appears to be white ; and around the Maidive Islands, in the Indian Ocean, black ; beautiful purple, red and rose- coloured waters are seen in the Mediterranean ; off the coast of California is the Vermilion Sea, v.'hich fitly expresses the prevailing colour ; and in some parts of the Arctic Ocean green and blue are seen in juxtaposition. The colour of the Red Sea has been attributed by some observers to the presence of animalculm {TrickodesmiuDi crythrceiini)^ and by others to a substance (a species of the oscillaria') of the intermediate character previously mentioned ; and it is probable that the two together are the cause of the prevailing hue. In the Antarctic regions Sir James Ross remarked changes of colour in the sea from light blue to a dirty brown, caused by animalculse. The beautiful appearance described as “ phos- ])horescence of the sea ” — scintillations and long lines of apparently electrical light — is due l othc presence of innumerable animalculse, some VOL. I. of -which are so small as only to be discerned by the aid of the microscope ; but others, such as jelly-fish, are of ^ s?a^”*** considerable size. In some of the tropical seas, a little creature, the Pyrosoma Atlantica, resembling a minute cylinder of glowing phosphorus, sometimes appears in such numbers that the ocean seems “ like an enormous layer of molten lava or shining phos- phorus”; and the light-giving property is also possessed in a remarkable degree’ by another minute animal of the Rhizopoda class, possess- ing a power of locomotion by means of tentacular filaments — found in myriads in the British 'Channel and North Sea. It has been observed that the beautiful emission of phosphorescent light is to some degree dependent on atmo- spheric conditions, but is not apparently affected by heat or cold, being observed both in the tropics and the Arctic regions. The clearness of the sea obviously depends upon its tranquillity and freedom from floating or infused matters. In quiet bays and inlets, such as are some of the Nor- wegian fiords, very small shells and other objects can be clearly dis- cerned at a depth of 150 ft. ; and on the English south coast the bay of Weymouth is re- markable for a similar clearness. It should be noted that an optical re- sult, similar to that afforded by the arrangement of the lenses of a tele- scope, is produced by the sea — the objects being made to appear very much nearer the surface than they really are, and made, visible, although, in the absence of water, they would, at that distance, be invisible to the unassisted eye. VI. WATER. This universally diffused substance, that plays so important a part in the vast economy of nature, presents itself to our senses under an infinite variety of aspects — grand, beautiful, and even awe-inspiring. The glacier, the ice- berg, or the avalanche, not less than the roaring torrent or the ocean surge, fill us with a sense U DECOMPOSITION OF WATEE BY ELECXBICITY. 210 THE UNIVEUHAL INSTRUCTOR. of irresistible force and wild sublimity, while the mountain lake and the meandering stream awaken softer emotions ; nor must we forget the thousand forms of beauty it assumes in the masses of snowy cumulus that hang in the deep blue of the summer sky, or in the wreaths of fretted gold that deck the couch of the setting sun. So manifold are its uses, so important its functions, that their history would alone suffice to fill a volume. Geology reveals to us the part it has played, as a mechanical agent, in build- ing up the rocks that form so large a portion of the outer covering of our planet; but the hand of Nature Mechanical action of water. IS not idle; the great work of creation has not ceased, and this restless, mobile agent is still perpetually engaged in altering and re-fashioning the face of the globe. It enters largely into the bodies of all animals and plants, and no form of organic life that we have any cognizance of can exist without it. Water absolutely pure can scarcely be said to exist. The best of all known solvents, it is always found combined with other substances, and the water of every river, spring or well will be found to hold a number of different substances in Water in a state of nature. is, indeed, chemically speaking, an oxide of hydrogen. It had always been regarded and spoken of as an element until the discovery of its dual nature was made by Cavendish, less than one hundred years ago. Water may be resolved into its constituent elements by means of a current of voltaic electricity ; the apparatus employed for this purpose is similar to the one represented in the figure on the preceding page, and consists of a glass vessel containing water slightly acidulated with sulphuric acid to faci- litate the passage of electricity. The bottom of the vessel is pierced to admit two wires communicating with the two poles of a gal- vanic battery, and terminating in small plates of platinum, over which two test tubes filled with water are inverted. When the apparatus is in operation, decomposition bubbles of gas will be seen to ° rise through the water and collect at the top of the column in either tube. In every case, one tube will be found to contain twice the quantity of the other, showing that the elements of water must be compounded in the volume of 2 to 1 , or that there must be twice as much of one element as of the other. In mSTILLATIOlf OP WATEE. solution. Such water cannot be purified by passing it through an ordinary filter. This can be effected by distillation only, and even then the water will not be found entirely free from all admixture with foreign substances. We need not, however, in all cases, necessarily regard the fact of drinking-water holding certain substances in solution as tending to impair its value as a potable liquid. All water in a natural state holds more or less air in solution; were this not the case, neither fish nor any living organism, except perhaps those of the lowest class, could live in it. Water from which the air has been expelled, by boiling, drinks very flat and insipid, and the water of many springs owes much Carbonic acid gparlde and relish to the in water, presence of a certain quantity of carbonic acid. Should water, however, be suspected of holding organic impurities in solution, it will be safest to boil it in addition to filtering. Water, unlike air, is not a mere mechanical mixture, but a chemical compound of two elementary gases, hydrogen and oxygen; water actual practice we do not get precisely these proportions. Oxygen being more soluble in water than hydrogen, rather more than double the quantity of the latter will be found collected in the tube inverted over the negative pole of the battery. If a light be applied to this gas it will burn with a pale flame, and, in so doing, will unite with the oxy- gen of the air to form water once more. Of the other gas it is sufficient to say that it is oxygen, of whose properties we have already spoken. Hydrogen is an invisible gas, taste- less and free from smell; but, unlike oxygen, it wall not support vital action. It is the lightest of all the known elements, and is therefore taken as the standard by which to estimate the relative weights of the different elements. Hydrogen being placed at the head of the list as 1, oxygen, nearly sixteen times as heavy,, figures as 16, nitrogen as 14, and so on for the entire series. It Relative follows, therefore, that the ‘^eightsof weight of the oxygen in a given volume of water is as 8 to 1, although the volume of the hydrogen is twice GERMAN. 211 that of the oxygen. Having now learnt what is the actual constitution of water, we must not conclude, however, that it is sufficient to bring these two gases into contact for them to unite to form water. They will not do so, even if mingled in exactly the proportion in which we have ascertained by analysis that they combine in water. Their chemical affinity is not suffi- ciently great to determine their union. Con- sidering how universally water is met with, this fact will perhaps strike our readers as singular. To effect their combination we have to summon the aid of combustion or electrical action. We have already pointed out that hydrogen is combustible, and that, in burning, it unites with the oxygen of the air to form water. If a light be applied to Sjmthetical mouth of a vessel containing composition. ^ mixture of these gases, they unite with explosive violence, and the sides of the vessel are seen to be bedewed with condensed water vapour. Such experiments require to be performed with the greatest cau- tion, on account of the highly explosive nature of the gaseous mixture. The chemical union of the two gases may in like manner be deter- mined by the passage of the electric spark through a vessel containing them. VIII. The Veeb |)aben {contimied). TJie Future, the Conditional, and the Im- perative Mood illustrated. Inversion of u'ords, and its effect on the position of the Verh. We have already seen that when a verb occurs in a compound tense, the part that does not change — namely, the infinitive or the past participle (gcbabt) — is moved to the end of the sentence. We have now to speak of the part of the verb that is variable, changing according to the person and number. When a sentence is direct^ that is, when it begins with the subject (nominative) — the verb immediately follows the subject, and no word may come between them. Thus in English we say, “ My father often had books ; ” but in German it would be wrong to put the word often ” before the verb. We must say, „ 35atcr batte oft 55ud)er/' for as the sentence begins with the nominative „ SJJctn 3Sater/' the verb, "batte/' must come next.- Thus the first rule with regard to the position of the verb in Ger- man is : In A simple dieect sentence the veeb comes next aftee the nominative. Often the order of words in a sentence is changed or inverted, certain words being put out of their ordinary places. Thus, if we say, “ Books I have, money I have not,” the order of the words is inverted ; for naturally it would be — I (subject or nominative) have (verb) books (objective or accusative), I (nominative) have not (verb) money (objective) ; or we may say, “ To-day I have an apple, yesterday 1 had a pear,” — the sentence in this case beginning with an adverb of time instead of with the nomina- tive case, I ; so that here again there is inver- sion or transposition of words. In translating these sentences into German we should have to say, ©iicber bcif^f icb; icb hi(bt (Books have I ; money have 1 not), and |)eute babe icb einen Ipfel; qel^ern b^tte icb eine ^irne (To-day have I, etc., yesterday had I, etc.) The second rule therefore is : In A simple INDIEECT SENTENCE (one that begins with another word than the nominative) the veeb IS PUT NEXT BEFOEE THE NOMINATIVE. This must be remembered in translating the follow- ing exercise. For Translation into English. .^inb hnrb eine f^reube baben. dass kinnt vierrt i' ne froHde ha'-hen |)eute ffierben ffiir bie S3ucber baben. hoi'-te vairr'-dcn veerr dee hue'-cher ha'-hen (ix ffiiirbe ba^ @elb qebabt baben. ;0er airr vuer'-de dass gelt ge-hapt' ha'-hen dare greiinb tnirb ba^ SSergnugen baben. ©a^ froind veerrt dass fer-gnue' -gen lia'hen dass ?anb ffiurbe einen Salb gebabt baben. Satb land vuer'-de i!-nen void ge-hapt' ha! -hen hald ffiirb bac^ f^elb ©lumen baben. ©eflern vAerrt dass felt hloomen ha-hen guest'-ern murben mtr nicbt 3 fit gebabt b^ben. Sir vuer-den veerr nicht t site ge-hapt' ha'-hen veerr merben bfhte ein ^ferb bfiben. ?abt vairr-den hoi-te ine pfaird ha'-hen lasst {u as bad ©?efrer baben. ©atb uns in pull) dass mes'-ser ha'-hen hald merben 0ie ben f^rubling baben. ©en vairr'-den zee dane frue-Ung ha'-hen dauc Sinter merben ffiir qebabt baben. ®er vin'-tcr vairr'-den veerr ge-hapt' ha'-hen dare ^erbft mirb ^pfel, ©irnen, unb ^flau= hairrhst veerrd epp-fel heerr'-nen und pjiom' - men baben. 3ffi Sinter merben wix nicbt men ha'-hen ini vin'-ter vairr'-den veerr nicht ©bqel baben. ©ad 3abr bat feine 3abred= foeli-gel ha'-hen dass yahr hat zy'-ne yah'-res- jeiten. ©ie .^inber murben ©cbube qebabt tsy-ten dee kin'-der vuerr'-den shoe'-e ge-hapt' baben. ©er ©ruber unb bie 0^mefter ha'-hen dare hroo'-derr U7id dee shves'-ter merben feine 0cbube baben. 3m Sinter vairr' -denky' -ne shoe' -e ha! -hen ini vin'-ter merben mir nicbt (Srbbeeren b^iben. vairi^-de7i vee^'r niclit air rt' -hair -ren ha'-hen ©ie ?ebrer merben 3:batcr baben. ©ie dee laii'-er vairr'-den tahl'-er ha'-hen dee 2:bdter miirben nicbt ©lumen bfiben. tail'-er vuerr'-den nicht hloo'-men ha'-hen Suffer miirbe mein ^tfunb nicbt gebabt vas-ser vucrr'-de mine froind nicht ge-hapt' baben. Sir baben ein 0bricbffiort : bad SafTer ha'hen veerr ha' -ben ine sprich! -vort dass vas-ser bat feine ©atfen. Serben 0ie @ebutb baben? hat hy'-ne hal'-ken vairr'-den zee ge-duld! ha'-hen 212 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. S3alt) mein greiinb bie ^reube l)aben hald vierrt mine froiud dee froi-de ha' -hen Sinen ^irfcbbaum bat mein S5ruber in i-nen keerrsh-hojvm hat mine brood' -er in feinem @arten ni^bt gebcibt 0ie miirben zy'-noin garr'-tcn nicht ge-hapt' zee vuerr'-den ©efcbenfe gebabt baben. 3}?orgen merben ge-shen'-ke ge-hapt' ha! -ben mow' -genvairr' -den mein gr^unb unb id) cin ©efdbenf baben. mine froind vnt ich ine ge-shenk' lui'-ben ©eftern miirbe meine !0?utter 3fit gebabt ^ guest' -ern vuerr' -de mine mat! -ter tsite ge-hapt' baben. ®er ilnabe batte eine ^la^e gebabt. h i' -ben dare Jmah'-he hat'-te i'-ne kat-se ge-hapt :Dit mirft ni(^t grenbe babem 3bi^ merbet doo vierr.d nicht froi' -de ha' -ben earr vairr'-dct feine S5imnen baben. SDie 35bgel merben hy'-ne bloom' -en ha' -ben dee foeh'-gel vairr'-den Webern baben. ben .Knaben einen fay'-dern ha' -ben lass dane knalt-ben i'-nen Sieiftift baben. Soft im^ bad ^Sergniigen bly'-stift ha'-ben lasst nns dass fer-gnue' -gen baben. 3!)er Sinter bat feine S5Iumen, aber ha. -ben dare vin-ter hatky'-ne bloo' -men ah' -her ber 3i^iibtii^9 Stumen baben. dare frueh! -ling vierrt bloo'-mcn ha'-ben ^pfel unb S3irnen mirb ber ^erbft epp'-fel unt beerr'-nen vierrt dare hairrhst baben. ©ebutb merben ©ie nicbt babem ha'-hen ge-dult vairr'-den zee nicht ha'-ben Satfen bat bad Saffer nicbt* ©en Sinter bal'-ken hat dass vas'-ser nicht dane vin'-ter inerben mir batb baben* vairr'-den veerr hald ha! -ben Notice the effect of inversion in placing the verb before the nominative : “ Silver and gold have I none.” The proverb, !2)ad Saffer bat feine S5atfen" means that water has no strength to support or uphold. “ Unstable as water, thou shalt not prevail.” (Genesis.) “ Men’s evil manners live in brass, their virtues we write in water,” (Shakespeare.) VOCABULARY. Singular. bad ^inb/ the child das kindt ber Salb’, the wood dare raid bad the field dass felt ber grubting,^ spring dare frueh' -ling ber ©ommer, summer dare zom!-mer ber ^erbft,^ autumn dare hairrhst ber Sinter, winter dare vin'-ter Plural. bie ilinber dee hinder bie Scitber dee V elder bie gftber dee fel'-der bie grubtinge dee frueh-linge bie ©ommer dee zommer bie |)erbfte dee hairrbste bie Sinter dee vin'-ter bie 3 abted 5 eit,Uhe season dee yah! -res-tsite ber ©cbubf the shoe dare shoe ^ bie ^abred^eiten dee yah! -res-tsi-ten bie ©cbube dee shoe' -e bad %^oXf the valley bie Abater dass tahl dee tail'-ler ber 2:bater,^ the dollar dare tahl'-er bad Saffer, the water dass vas'-ser bie 2:bater dee tah'-ler bie Saffer dee vas'-ser ber 55atfen,® the beam of bie S3alfen dare bal'-hcn [wood dee hal-hen bad ©pricbmort,” the pro- bie ©pricbmbrter dass sprich! -vort [verb dee sprich' -vorter bie ©ebult,'® patience (no plural) dee ge'-dult batb," soon hald bie Jteitbe, the joy bie gtfhben dee ftoi'-de dee fro! -den ber .Jlirfcbbanm,'' the cherry- bie .^irfebbdume dare heerrsk' -hoivni [tree dee heerrsh! -boi-me bad ©efcbenf, the present bie ©efcbenfe, dass ge-shcnh! dee ge-shen'-ke morgen, to-morrow morr'-gcn ber 9J?orgen, the morning bie 2)?orgen dare morV-gen dee morr’-gsn OBSERVATIONS. ' The English words irohl and weald (Stow-on-the- Wold, and the Weald of Kent) come from the German Wald. The name of the Waldegrave family is also from Wald-graf Count of the forest. “ Friihlin'g is from Friih, early, and means the early comer. ^ From Ilcrlst, by the change of the vowel, and of the h into v, we have ‘ harvest. ’ “ Jahres-zeit, literally Year’s-tide or time of year. ® Pronounced exactly like the English word. ® Hence the English word ‘ dale.’ ’’ The coin, the dollar or Thaler, took its name from tlie ‘ Joachim’s-thal,’ or Joachim valley in Bohemia, where it was coined. “ From Balken comes the term a ‘ baulk ’ of timber, a ‘ bulkhead’ in a ship, etc. ® hterally a ‘speak-word,’ a word often spoken. Geduld and Geschenk have the accent on the second syllable, which is the radical — duldev, to bear, and ischenkr-n, to give ; the ge is merely a prefix. “ The a to be pronounced as in art ; not as in the English word ‘ bald. ’ *■ The in Baum, like oio in down. English Version, for correcting the foregoing study, and for rctranslation into German. The child will have a joy.* To-day we shall have the books. He would have had the money. The friend will have the pleasure. The land would have had a wood. Soon the field will have flowers. Yesterday we should not have had time. We shall have a horse to-day. Let us have the knife. Soon you will have the spring. The winter we shall have had. Autumn will have apples, pears, and plums. In the winter we shall not have birds. The year has its seasons. The children would have had shoes. The brother and the sister will have no shoes. In winter we shall not have strawberries. The teachers will have dollars. The valleys would not have flowers. Water, my friend would not have had. We have a proverb, “The wafer has no beams,” Will you have patience ? tSoon my friend will have the joy. A cherry-tree my friend has not had in his garden. They would have had presents. To-morrotv my friend and I yuII * Freude, joy, is stronger tlian Vergniigen, pleasure. ARITHMETIC. 213 have a present. Yesterday my mother would have had time. The boy had had a coat. Thou wilt not have joy. Ye will have no flowers. The birds will have feathers. Let the boy have a pencil. Let us have the plea- sure. The winter has no flowers, but spring will have flowers. Apples and pears autumn will have. Patience you will not have. Beams the water has not. Winter we shall soon have. viir. Concrete Ariilimetie. We have hitherto considered only those rules of Arithmetic which deal with abstract num- bers — that is, numbers which do not stand for any particular objects, and therefore these rules are true whatever objects the numbers may stand for. We shall now give some rules for dealing with particular objects, such as sums of money, weights, measures, and so on ; and these rules will be true only of the particular objects in respect of which the rule is given. We suppose that every one knows the fol- lowing, which is called the Table of English Money, — 2 farthings = 1 halfpenny, i.e. \d. 2 halfpence = 1 penny, i.c. \d. 12 pence = 1 shilling, i.e. 1^. 20 shillings = 1 pound, i.e. £1. Pounds are denoted by the symbol £, shillings by s., pence by d., farthings either as fractions of a penny or by the symbol q. And these symbols, £, s., d., q., stand for the initial letters of the Latin words Libra (a pound weight), solidus, denarius, and quadrans (the names of Roman coins). Accounts are always kept in pounds and the subdivisions of a pound, i.e., shillings, pence, and farthings, although there are many other coins in circulation, such as the florin, half- crown, sixpenny-piece, etc. The sovereign and half-sovereign and the now disused guinea are gold coins. But they are not of quite pure gold. In fact, quite pure gold would be too soft and liable to break to stand the hard usage which sovereigns get, and would be very difficult to stamp well. This is expressed by saying that pure gold is not malleable. To give the gold the necessary toughness a small quantity of another metal is mixed with it, in such proportion that in 12 parts of the mixture 1 1 are pure gold and 1 part is of baser metal. It is more usual to say (what means the same as this) that pure gold is 24 carats fine, and •‘standard gold” {i.e. the gold of our coinage) only 22 carats fine ; i.e . , that in 24 carats of standard gold (a carat = 3^ grains) there are 22 carats of pure gold, the remaining two carats being some baser metal. The value of this standard gold is £3 17^. 10|<^. per oz. Nor is standard silver quite pure. In 40 parts of standard silver 37 parts are pure silver and the other three parts are baser metal. The market price of this silver is about 5^. \%d. per oz. No charge is made for coining gold at the Mint, but silver is charged about i\d. an oz. for coining. The copper, or rather bronze coinage, con- sists of 96 parts of copper, 4 of tin, and 1 of zinc. The following table, called the Pence Table, ought to be committed to memory : — 12(7. make 1?. 84(7. make 7s. 20(7. J? Is. 8(7. 90(7. 7s. 6(7. 24(7. ?? 2s. 96(7. 5? 8?. 30(7. 5? 2s. 6(7. 100(7. ?? 8?. 4(7. 36(7. 3?. 108(7. J? 9?. 40(7. 3?. 4(7. 110(7. 5? 9s. 2d. 48(7. 4?. 120(7. 10.?. 50(7. ?? 4.?. 2(7. 130(7. 5? 10?. 10(7. 60(7. V 5s. 132(7. Il5. 70(7. 5s. 10(7. 140(7. n 11s. 8(7. 72(7. 6s. 144(7. 3? 12s. 80(7. „ 6?. 8(7. Sums of money are generally expressed by means of three different units of measurement (or denominations, as they are sometimes called). Thus five pounds seventeen shillings and sixpence (written £6 17^. 6^7. ) is expressed by means of pounds, shillings, and pence ; and pounds, shillings, and pence are said to be “ denominations ” ; shillings being “ lower ’’ than pounds, and pence “lower” than shillings. Reduction. A sum of money expressed in more than one unit or denomination is called a compound quantity. Thus £3 15^. 6^Z., which is expressed by means of the three units of measurement (or denominations), viz. £, s., is a compound quantity. It is evident we might have expressed this compound quantity in a different manner. For since £1 = 20^., it follows that £3 =60.?., and therefore the above sum might be written in the form 7.5.?. 6 u U 4 2500s., and there are no shillings to be added in. So multiply this 2500 by 12, — this gives 30000, and there are no pence to be added in. So multiply by 4, and add in 3. This gives 120003, the final result. 120003 Example 4 : Reduce £6 Is. 8d. to fourpences. In other words, find how many fourpences there are in £6 Is. 8d. £ g. d. There are 20s, in £1 ; .*. mul- 6 18 tiply 6 by 20 , to reduce the 20 pounds to shillings. Then add- ing in the I. 9 , we have 121s. 121 shilliugs Now in Is. there are 3 four- 3 pences ; .’. in 121 s. there are 3 X 121 fourpences. We must 365 fourpences multiply 121 by 3. This gives us 363 fourpences ; and then adding in the 8^7., which is the same as 2 four- pences, we get finally 365 fourpences as the equivalent of £6 Is. 8d. £ s. d. 17 18 Oj 20 358 12 4305 4 17221 20 2500 12 30000 4 Exercises. 1. Reduce to pence the following sums ; — £126 ; £231 15s. ; £217 11s. Id. ; £1897 17s. Id. ; £56854 13s. M. 2. How many half-crowns are required to make up £2049 17s. M. 1 and how many guineas are equal to 16254 pence? 3. Reduce to farthings the following : — £784 1.5s. ?>ld . ; £19 17s. life/. ; £104 3s. 3|<7. 4. Reduce to their lowest denominations the following quantities : — £536 15s. ; £421 16s. Ud. ; £5330 Os. 6d.'; £472 1%-. \l\d. 5. If the sum of £3G1 18s. 6d. be di\dded among 24 people, how many farthings will each person get ? A7iswers: 1. 30240; 55620; 52213: 455491; 13645125. 2. 16399 half-crowns ; 64 1 guineas. 3. 753375$’.; 19103$.; 99999$. 4. 10735s.; 101243d7. ; 1279206^/.; 454077$. 5. 14477. VI I. A DIET of the empire was held at Augsburg, in 1530 ; and here the question of the new doctrine was to be definitely de- cided. On the 25th of June the of Protestants handed in that cele--^if®^'“'f> brated Confession, in wliich the The confession zeal of Luther had been tempered ® 2^^’ by the learning and moderation of Melanchthon, to whom had been entrusted the preparation of the document in German and Latin. Very conciliatory was the spirit of the Augsburg Confession. The reformers endeavoured to approximate as closely as pos- sible to the Latin Church, and kept entirely aloof from the more innovating party of Zwingli’s followers, who handed in a separate confession which was not accepted. But the Roman party, headed by the pope, would listen to nothing short of unconditional sub- mission. The more violent partisans declared that “ red initials of blood ” should be put to the Augsburg Confession ; the opponents of the reformers insisted that the decrees of councils should be regarded as invested with the authority of inspiration ; the Protestants were as firm in regarding them as human, and therefore as fallible ordinances. Under such circumstances, the conference, that endeavoured to bring about an agreement, failed ; and the decree of the diet contemptuously designating the Protestants as a sect whose confession was contrary to Scripture, and forbidding them to teach their doctrines, aroused even the most pacific among them to anger. Melanchthon published his masterly Aj^ology, upholding the Augsburg Con- fession ; and the evangelical ^ deputies and princes departed without waiting for the close of the diet. They had now taken a definite position, and were determined to defend it to Ihe last. The diet, on the other hand, threatened the “ new sect ” with extinc- tion, and menaced with the ban of the empire all who within a certain period failed to give up their dangerous innovations. Luther him- self could not be present at this great and important scene ; for he was under the ban of the empire, pronounced at the diet at Worms. He remained in the castle of Coburg, watching and directing tb.c cour.se of events. That he HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 215 was heart and soul with the Protestant depu- ties is shown by his own words : “ Great is my joy,” he said, “ to have lived to see this hour, when Christ is proclaimed by such confessors, before such an assembly, through so glorioug a confession ! Now the word is fulfilled : ‘ I will speak of thy testimony also before kings.’ ” Affairs now assumed a warlike aspect. A system of legal persecution, commenced against League of them on the charge of having con- Protestant fiscated church property, ' united princes at the Protestant princes in the Smalkald, league of Smalkald, at the little Dec., 1530. town of that name in the Thu- lingian forest. By this covenant they pledged themselves to united action in defence of any member of the league attacked on account of his faith. At Frankfort the proceedings of the Smalkald league were confirmed. The Elector of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse were appointed heads of the league. Bitterly hostile as were the feelings of Charles against the Protestants, he was not at that time in a condition to proceed to extremities against them. Several unpopular acts, especially the illegal coronation of his brother Ferdinand, had imperilled his influence in Germany. The Turks threatened Austria and Hungary with invasion, and union of the Germans of all districts and creeds against the common invader became imperatively necessary. Accordingly Charles temporized. At Nuremberg a peace was concluded, on the basis of suspension of all legal action against the Protestants, and reference of the general question to a Church council to be summoned at the first opportunity. Thus the strife was delayed, but not prevented. A cold, calculating man, accustomed to bide his time, Charles determined to postpone his vengeance on the Protestants to “ a more convenient season,” when the Turks, and above all, France, should have ceased to menace him as enemies. In the next years the madness of fanaticism broke out again, to the detriment of the The Reformation, bewildering the half- Anabaptists hearted, leading astray the igno- at Munster rant, and discouraging even the (1533-1535). best friends of religious progress and freedom. The anabaptists had been forcibly put down in the Peasant War ; but their doc- trines had survived ; and at Munster, in West- phalia, Rottmann, one of the most popular of the evangelical preachers, startled and grieved the moderate part of the community by degenerating into fanatical extravagance. Presently a w'andering preacher from the Netherlands, John Matthison, appeared in Munster, with his fellow-countryman and disciple, John Bockholt (John of fab iSL 1536? I^eyden). These men gained the ^aD. 1010-1636). turbulent mob to their side, drove their opponents from the town, established a system of community of goods ; and, after making themselves masters of the place, pro- ceeded to defend it against the besieging army of the bishop. Matthison was killed in a sally of the besieged. Bockholt thereupon ruled despotically in the unhappy city, instituting a kind of council of twelve elders, and appointing one of the wildest of the fanatics, Knipper- dolling, to the double office of burgomaster and executioner. Bockholt called himself the King of Israel, assumed the title “John by God’s grace King in the New Temple,” sat on the chair of judgment in the market-place of Munster, punishing with death all who raised their voices against the extravagances of his rule, of which polygamy was one. The confi- dence of the fanatics in their leader was heroic, and the defence was maintained to the last extremity ; but famine at length prevailed even over fury and desperation, and Miinster was taken. The end was like that of all similar outbreaks. The chiefs were tortured to death, and their mangled remains were suspended in iron cages from a tower, as a perpetual warning ; those of their followers who had not fallen during the siege were executed or driven away ; and the madness of the fanatics was used as a pretext for restoring the Roman fomi of worship, and for establishing the rule of nobles and clergy, while the former freedom and privileges of the citizens were abolished. On the other hand, the league of Smalkald was being gradually but surely strengthened and widened. The Albertine Duke George of Saxony, a rigid advocate of the ottheold Church;died inl539,aad his successor Henry, just as zealous for the Pro- testant doctrines, introduced the long-desired Reformation into the whole of Saxony. Luther preached in Leipsic. Dresden and Meissen became Protestant ; and the convents, already half-deserted, were closed. In Brandenburg, in like manner, the Elector Joachim, so zealous a Romanist that he had even driven away his Protestant consort, was succeeded by two sons, both of whom took the side of the reformers ; and Brandenburg, like Saxony, followed the example of its ruler. This had a great and decisive effect on Northern Germany. In other parts of the empire also, the Smalkaldic league obtained new adherents, the imperial cities being especially zealous on the Protestant side. In Cologne, Bonn, Andernach, and even in Austria, the new cause gained many adherents. Thus, at the diet of Ratisbon, in January 1.541, another attempt at reconciliation was made by the peace-loving Me- Diet of lanchthon and the tolerant papal Ratisbon, legate Contarini ; but not only 1541. the pope, but Luther and the elector, were against the proposed accommodation, in which each saw only a snare ; and this last attempt failed. Meanwhile Charles had secured a respite from the attacks of foreign enemies. For a time he was at peace both with the French and the Turks ; and accordingly he could safely abandon the conciliatory policy that had left his hands free for foreign wars, and begin to cany out his long-cherished scheme of forcibly suppressing the Reformation in Germany. In Cologne and Cleve the per- secution began ; and soon the Netherlands witnessed the public burning of Protestant clergymen. Just at the time when the coming cloud of war darkened the horizon of Germany, the great preacher who had seen the sun of the Reformation rise over his country was removed VENICE (see p. 248). FRENCH PRONUNCIATION. 217 from the scene. On the 18th of February, 1546, at Eisleben, the place of his birth. Death of Luther, Martin Luther, calmly main- taining, with his last breath, the doctrine he had fearlessly taught for thirty years, through evil and through good report. He was a man especially suited for the times in which he lived ; no dreamer, or unpractical enthusiast, but a sturdy man of action, fit to stand before kings and courts and battle for the right. “Where,” says a German writer, “ shall we find a second time that inexhaustible depth of faith, with the same irresistible com- mand of the popu- lar language, and the same strength of will and readiness for action?” His work was done, and the great reformer was mercifully re- moved from the sight of the evil days that were to come. His corpse was carried, by order of the elec- tor, in solemn procession from Eisleben to Wit- tenberg, there to rest where he had first raised the banner of truth against imposition, on that day when he nailed the immortal ninety- five theses to the door of the Castle church. The Nasal Vowels. § 42. These sounds are peculiar to the French language, and present the great elo- cutionary difficulty which the foreign student has to overcome ; indeed, southern Frenchmen them- selves do not seem capable of pro- nouncing them purely. From personal obser- vation we are satisfied that a Briton can sooner master these than a genuine Gascon. They certainly add no charm to the pronuncia- tion, for, being started very far back and high in the mouth, they come out muffled and dull. If they cannot be avoided in song, the composers at least guard themselves from setting to these nasal sounds high or long notes. They are expressed in writing by n or in placed after TUNIS. THE ESCUKIAL, MADRID. His wife Katharine survived him some years. After his death she fell into poverty, and was utterly neglected by the Protestant princes. She died at Torgau, in 1 552, and was interred in the parish church of that town. Her letters show her to have been a woman of intellect. any of the simple vowels a, e, i, o, n, y, or some of the compound vowels and diphtliongs. In order that the vowel placed at the beginning or in the body of a word be nasal, it is neces- sary that m or n be the last letter of the syllable, that m ov n be not doubled, nor that 218 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. a vowel or h mute should follow m or n. The examples given in Exercise VI. will exhibit these features. § 43. All the nasal vowels may be reduced to four original sounds, which must be acquii’ed first : an or (eti), in, on, mi. (a) an (or en). Pronounce the English word aunt with as deep a sound as the word will admit of — that is, a sound as far removed as possible from ant ; observe carefully that the vowel sound an has become dull, that it is not started from the centre of the mouth as a com- mon a (say in father') would be, but from the back ; now, if you could retain that dull sound of au, without any approach to the articulation nt, you would obtain the nasal sound an (or en) all but perfectly. \h) in. Pronounce twang with the worst twang you are able to command ; try to divest the sound of tw and ng ; what remains comes very near to the French sound in, especially if you attempt to draw the sound well out. (c) on. Kepeat several times aloud the Eng- lish word long, and observe that the sound, started in the same u’ay as an, but from a higher region of the moutii, is closed up by ng; now. if you Avould dwell on Ion, with the in- tention of saying long, without ever letting the sound be closed up by ng in the very least degree, you would produce the French sound on. (d) un. Apply the same process to the word hung as to long. Remarli. — Even those who have had the advantage of oral tuition must have their attention drawn to this point. The disposi- tion to pronounce an {en) in, on, un as ang, ing, ong, ung, is not easily eradicated. Just at the moment you feel the least approach to the articulation /i, when the nasal part of the sound has been started, stop short, and for the better detection of this defect, read the following exercise very loud. EXEKCISE VI. Du rub AN, la sANt6, le cadrAX, le dimAXchc, pEXse, PamEXdc, mExdiAXtc, ExfAXtix, du viN, lapix, pAXtix, bassix, galopix, ixcEXdic, boxbox, savox, gar^ox, charbox, la fix du moxdc, le pixsox chAXt(?, de box matix, Simox vEXdra EX' pAXtix au gamix, mox pAXtalOX sera fini (^fi-ni) luxdi matix, le rabbix fera ux sermox savAXt, chaeux racoxte la fix de la defux'te, le cadrAX de ma moxtre, Martix a demAXde pardox a Louisox, ClemEXtix a rEXcoxtre ux polissox, nous avoxs EXtEXdu la legox, qu’attExd-ox-tAXt, que ne les tEXd-OX ? {ha-tan-ton-tan, que ne les tan-ton.) § 44, The four nasal sounds can be graphi- cally rendered in several other ways without the least variation in quality occurring. a. The sound an is also spelt am : chAMbre, cAMp, quidAM (heedan), Dam- ville, dAM (hurt), AdAM, SAMson, AMphore. aen : Caex. aon ; f AOX, Laox, pAOX, tAOX. en : lEXtemEX^, parEX^if, je rEXds, tAXgEXte. •em : EMbage, EMpereur, rcssEMblcr. •ean : Jeax, nagEAXf. h. The sound iii is also spelt : — im : iMbibe, tiMbale, siMple, griMpe. ain : grAix, Aixsi, plAixdre, refrAix. aim : dAiM, f AIM, etAiM, ein : etEixdre, pEixture, frEix, serEix. yn : sYXtaxe, sYXcope, ym : sYMpathie, sYMptome, tYMpan. 6*. The sound on is also spelt : — om : nOMbre, nOM, plOMb, OMbre. eon : pigEOX, plongEOX. d. The sound un is also spelt : — um ; hUMlfie, parfUM. eun : a jEUX. § 46. The following diphthongs are formed in connection with the nasal vowels : — ian, pr. i-an in one syllabic : viAXde, meat. ien, pr. i-in „ : chiEX, dog. ion, pr. i-on „ : pensiOX,boarding- house. oin, pr. ou-in „ : COIN, corner, ouan, pr. ou-an „ : chouAX, revolted Vendeen. uin, pr. u-in „ : suixt, grease (of wool, etc.) yan,ycn,yon-. a 3 "ant («i-iAX),mo 3 'en(?;ici-i-lx), rayon (7'«/-iOX). § 46, Eemarks on an and its homonyms. (1) an. This nasal sound is destroyed by n, a vowel, or h mute, following it : — an, 3 'ear, but annee, do. {a-ne). gmysan, peasant, yroX, 'paysanne, do. {zan!). auHC, handle, but an\s, anise {a-ni). sante, health, but sanitaire, sanitary {sa-ni). anhydre, destitute of water {a-nidC). Likewise : anliarmonique {a-nar), anhelation {a-ne), anheler {a-ne), anhiste {a-nist'). Sanhedrin {sa-ne), Kellcrmann {man'), lan- damman, a Swiss magistrate {lan-da-man'). (2) mn. With the exception of Adam, where am is nasal, both a and m retain their own sounds at the end of proper nouns derived from foreign languages : Abraham, Amsterdam {amf -sterdam'), Balaam {ba-la-am), Cham {Kam), Islam, Nottingham , Siam, Surinam, etc. Samson is pronounced San-son, and hamster, mus cricetus, am'-ster'). Nor is am nasal when it is followed by m, n, or any vowel: flamme, flame {flam'), amnistie, amnesty' {am' -ni-stie), amour, love {a-mour). In damner and its de- rivatives condamner, eondamnation, etc., read da-ner, da-na. (3) aon. This nasal sound is destroj^ed by doubling n : faonne, roe {fan'), paonne, pea- hen {pan'). (4) en. a. At the beginning of a word mis always nasal, although it be followed by a vowel or another n : encadrer, to frame {en- cadrer)-, enhardir, to embolden {en-ardir)\ s' enamourer, to fall in love {sen-namourer) : enivrer, . to intoxicate {en-nivrer) ; .s'enor- gueillir, to take pride {sen-norgueillir) ; ennoblir. to ennoble {en-nchlir) ; ennui, bother {en-nui). However, ennemi and all technical terms be- ginning with the prefix ennea (a Greek word meaning nine) are pronounced en' . b. In the body of a word en remains nasal : amende, 21 fine {a-men-d') ; menthe, peppermint {^men-t') ; unless it be followed by a vowel, when the e becomes si end or even mute, and the n is carried on to the vowel to form with it FRENCH PRONUNCIATION. 219 la syllable: genou, a knee {ge-noii or g'no7i) ; i mcner, to lead (ine-ner or m'ner'). Followed by ; another n, en loses completely the nasal sound, I and is pronounced en' : m ienne, mine {irden'^ ; ; biennal, biennial (hie-nar) ; deceyinaly decen- i nial (de-ce-naT) ; and thus trietmal, Porsenna, iHrennes, que je prenne, etc. Note the folio w- I ing important points : 1st, pronounce hennir, I to neigh, nenni, not at all, solennel, solemn, j a-nir, na-ni, so-la-nel', 2nd, J/ew/wr, a Druidical : stone = me-nir ; 3rd, in agenda, Bengale, i Benjamin, henjoin, memento, mentor, pensum, ! and in all those technical terms beginning j with the prefix penta (a Greek word meaning I jive), pronounce en like the nasal sound in, q. v. ! § 43 ; 4th, ingredient, which some pronounce j ingredien(en = in), is more correctly pronounced I in-gre-dian (see Acadhnie and Littre), follow- I ing in this respect other words in ient, as client ' (clian), expedient (dian), orient (orian) ; 6th, the verbal termination ent is mute : ils voient, I pr. voi, but ils voient un pen, pr. ils vox tun pen ; I ils regardent, pr, ils regard' , but ils regardent 1 de pres, pr. ils re-gar-de (e slender}.* c. At the end of a word, en is generally pronounced in (§ 43 b) ; it is always so when it is preceded by i or y. Europeen, European, pr. eu-ro-pe-in, Phoceen, Phocean, -pr./o-ce-in. examen, examination, pr, e-xa-min (mostly). hymen, marriage, pr. i-min (sometimes). soutien, support, pr. son-tien {en — in), citoyen, citizen, pr. ci-toi-ien (^en — in). In this list, en is pronounced en : abdomen, amen, cyclamen (bot.), Eden, gluten, gramen, lichen, Niemen, qjollen, solen, specimen. (5) em is nasal when it is placed before b or p : sembler, to appear, pr. sen-bler ; emporter, to carry off, pr. en-por-ter ; whereas remettre, to deliver, and semelle, sole, are read re-metr' and se-meV or Emeti-' and s'm'eV. Bead, therefore, also indemne, lemne, lemnien, lemnisque, Mem- non, Agamemnon, with the sound em'ul ; in- demnite and its derivatives, however, have the sound dam'n. Read also with the sound hn' : BHhleem, harem, Harlem, hem, Jemisalem, Moslem, requiem, etc., — add decemvir, etc., all compounds of decern, except decemhre, in which the nasal sound, owing to the presence of b, is maintained. (6) em m, at the beginning of a word, is nasal ; enimagasiner, emmaillotter, emmancher, em- meler, emmener, emmieller, emmuseler, etc., are read en-magasiner, en-maillotter, etc. In any other position emm is pronounced am' : d,ili- gemment {di-li-gca-men), evidemment (e-vi-da- men), femme { fam'). Except, however, dilemme {di-l'em'), lemme (lem'), lemming {le-mingli), ; Emma (em'-ma),Emmaus {em' -maiis), Emmanuel {e-ma-nuel). (7) can. The e of this vowel has nothing to do with the sound ; with the exce])tion of Jean (o.F. Jehan), John, it is only used to soften the g placed before an, as nageant, swimming {na-zhan). * This example shows' that althoucrh a final unac- (Cented e is mute, it is nevertheless converted into a jSlender e (see § 20) — thus making a new syllable — whenever the elision of e would bring about an accu- mulation of articulations; to read, (‘.n., ji(Hfe del — just’ Oiel, instead Q^jn-ate del, would prove very harsh. § 47. Remarks on in and its homonyms : — (1) In § 24 c it has already been pointed out how this nasal sound is destroyed, and thus inutile, useless, is read i-nu-tiV. in-octavo, in 8vo, „ i-noc-ta’ -vo. inhabile, unskilled „ i'-na-bil'. inne, inborn, „ i-nL Nor is in nasal in these Latin phrases, which have passed into current French : in partibus, in pace, in piano, and in the Italian phrase in petto. On the other hand, it remains nasal before an m : nous vinmes, we came ; nous tinmcs, we held. (2) im or ym lose the nasal sound on the same conditions as an : imite, imitated, is read i-mi-te. immense, huge, „ i-mens'. sy metric, symmetry, „ si-me-tri. synonyme, synonym, „ si-no-nim'. gymnase, gymnasium, „ gim'-naz'. interim, pro tern., „ hi-te-rim'. Selim, is read Se-lim' ; other foreign names are similarly pronounced. 'Thym, thyme, is pronounced tin (nasal). (3) Ain, aim, and ein. Add e mute, and the nasal sound is destroyed : soudam, sudden {din), but soudaine {den'). faim, hunger {jin), but aime, love {em'). plein, full {plin), hwt p)l vine (plen'). § 48. Remarks on on and its homonyms. ( 1 ) on. This combination, in so far as it is a nasal sound, is destroyed in the same positions as an (§ 46, 1.). Therefore — onereux, onerous, is pronounced o-ne-reux. bonne, good, „ bon' . bonhomie, good nature, „ bo-n6-mi. bonheur, happiness, „ b6-neur. Monsieur is pronounced either mH-sieu {Aca- demic and Little) or me-sieu {Littre). The popular Parisian form is m'sieu. (2) om is nasal only before the labials b and qj : bombe, shell ; qiompe, pump ; and in the following : comte, count, and its derivatives ; nom, name, and derivatives; Absalom; dom, a title given to certain monks. In horn, and in foreign names, as Edom, Epsom, etc., read horn', Edom', Eqjsom'. (3) con. The mute e, here, merely softens the g, and eon is found in no other position than after the g : plongcon, plunge, pigeon, pigeon, nous jugeons, we judge, etc. § 49. Remarks on un and its homonyms. (1) un, nasal, is destroyed by a vowel placed after it : — commun {co-mun), but communal {co-mu-nal), commune {co-mun'). In the following words, which are nearly all technical, un is pronounced like the nasal on : qninch, de q^'^'ofundis, q^nnctUio, unciale, unci- forme, uncine, uncinostre, unda-maris, unde- cimo, undine, ungueal, nnguifere. unguineux, unguin, nuncupatif nuncupation, nundical, puncticulaire, punctiforme. Bunherque, Sund, etc., are also read by some Bonherque, Sond', etc. (2) um, nasal, is destroyed by a vowel only, as the case of h or m, placed after um, does not present itself : humble {umbV), but humility {u-mi-li-tej. The only instance where um is nasal at the end of a word parfum, perfume. 220 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Sunihul and suinnu/m, very little used, are pro nounced som,-hid and so- mom'; also wnble, a speeies of trout, otherwise ealled ombre-cheva- lier ; vmbracule, umbraculi forme., botanical terms. In the following words um sounds om' : album, decor um,factotim, geranium, laudanum, opium, rhum, te denm (tede-om'), ultimatum, vade- mecum {va-de-mt-com!^, as also in the vast number of similar words imported from the Latin. (3) eun. ajeun, fasting, is the only case in which this combination appears as a nasal sound. Add e, as for jeunc, fast, and you obtain the close sound of eu (see § 37a), the nasal sound being destroyed— Avoid confounding this sound with that of jeunc (jeunf), young, which contains the open sound of eu. § oO. Kemarks on nasal diphthongs. Nasal in ian . viande, meat (i+aa) . ien . ticn, thine (i+i/i) . . ion ' . lion, lion (ji-\-on') . . oin . moins. less (pu-\-in') uin . suinf, greasincss (w+i/i) ouen Rouen, a city (po-Van) yen Ecouen, „ „ . . moyen, mean (gnoi-ienj (ten = i + in') But open in Diane, Diana {Dian') tienne, thine, {tien') lionne, lioness (lion') moinc, monk (mo in') ruinc, ruin (rubi') rouennerie, cot- ton stufE {rou- an'-rie) couenne, bacon - rind [cou-an') moyenne (moi- ien ) VII. The Fourth Step in Singing. The reader who turns back to the scale tones, as represented at the beginning of the last chapter, will see that between m and f and between t and d‘ there is little mere than half the vertical space that there is between the other notes. This is to express the musical fact that the real distance, in point of pitch, between these tones is little more than half the distance between the others. The order and succession of the scale is so natural emi- ones. this discrepancy ; but when the attention is called to the point it will generally be per- ceived. A most important point it is, for the scale tones derive their individuality from the positions of these little steps, or semi-tones as they are called. We have already noticed the satisfying and conclusive character of Doh ; the martial and trumpet-like character of Soli will be apparent to most people ; while the tone Lah, thrown into a prominent place in a melody, leaves a sad and pensive impression on the mind. It is this separate “mental effect ” of the seven tones that gives character to a melody. But a new effect is possible. After singing for some time with one fixed sound for Boh, the ear welcomes a shifting of Doh on to some other fixed sound ; and it likes this effect best if it can be smoothly managed, without breaking the flow of the Transition, music. The ear of the listener is pleased to find the Soli melting into a new Doh, or the Lah into a new Me. The old tones seem to have put on a new clothing, bright and warm and fresh. This device of “ transition,” as it is called, is used in the simplest music, as well as in the most complex. In every instrument there are only a certain number of tones at the composer’s command, and he seeks to approach these from every point of view, to ANCIENT ELUTES AND TEOMBONE. clothe them in every colour, and to make his changes as pleasantly striking as possible. The “mental effects” of the tones is the basis of transition, and the singer who carries these effects in mind will not be likely to go wrong. The simplest transition, or shifting of Doh, and that which is used nine times out of ten ill music, consists in turning Soh into a new Doh. Let us examine the effect of this change upon the position Trajnsition to of the notes. We can best make ^ Doi^nant. ^ the comparison by writing the new Doh on the right hand alongside of Soh, and then adding the rest of the notes above and below. Eemember that the pitch is shown by vertical distance. If, therefore, any two notes are on the same level, their pitch will be the same. On this principle, where is the dis- crepancy ? Manifestly between Fah and Te ; the old Fah must in fact be lifted up a little to make the now Te. This new note we call Fe. (See the diagram at the side, which is called a ® (fe) f m 1, d f. “modulator.”) Listen to the following : — MUSIC. 221 KEY F. E. J. Hopkins. d m : s 1 d :m|r.m:fjm :m|l :3 s : fe s 1 — : d d : ti 1 li : Si 1 Sj :li.ti Id : d Id.r ; m [ r : r Si 1 — To prove the complete change which the ^'Fe" effects, try to sing Fah in place of it, thus : — : m i 1 :f|s :-| - 4 =: The character of the passage is entirely al- tered. Transition which is effected by changing Soil into Doh we call Transition to the “ first sharp key,” or key of the dominant. The next common transition is made by turning Fah into Doh. Again, let us set Doh against Fah, this time on the left hand, and ... S'dd the other notes, observing oTthP place of difference. Evidently Sub-dominant, is at the place of Te, which must be lowered a little to make a new Fah. This new note we call Ta7i' (written Ta'). Sing this example : — KEY F. KEY F. Handel. I d ; m : f I s : — : | ta : — :1 j s : — : — s d* f (ta) 1 m Sing the notes d' ta 1 s several times over by themselves, and you feel that they are really, in mental effect, s f m r. In the same way sing the notes 1 s s fe s in the previous exercise, and you feel them to be r d d tj d. It would be truer to mental effect, and to the science of music, if they were written as they really sound. This we can do by means of a “ bridge-tone.” We call the note at which the transition is made by two names — that of the old and that of the new key. Thus s d f d, etc., the small note indi- cating the old key, and the larger note the new. The two exercises, written in this better method, would appear as follows : — KEY C. t. d m : s Id : m r .m : f 1 m : m 1 r> : d> 1 d‘ : t d> 1 _ d d : ti 1 li : Si Si : Ij.ti [ d : d df. s: 1 1 s : s d 1 _ KEY F Id : m ; f I f. KEY B 12. E. d's 1 f : — : m I r : — : — The word “ key C ” over the place of change shows the key which is entered, and the “ t ” shows the name of the new sound, not in the old scale, which is introduced. It is placed on the right hand side to show that the change is in the direction of the dominant or Soh key. In the second example, “ key B fe ” gives the name of the new key, and “ f ” at the left hand sliows that the change is to the Fah or sub- dominant key. The sign fe means “ flat,” and when attached to any note of the standard scale, lowers it fe and It ^ step. The sign J, ^ to which we shall presently come, means “ sharp,” and 7'aises a note of the stan- dard scale by nearly half a step. Composers use yet another effect which is derived from the pleasure which the ear takes 4 .- ill transition. They introduce a Lnromatics. -n m j. Fe or la, or some other note Avhich heralds a transition ; and then, instead of making the change of key, they contradict their intention and revert to the old key. This effect gives a pleasurable surprise to the ear. If Fe is the new tone in a sharp transi- tion, it is manifest that if Fah follows it im- mediately the old key is reaffirmed, and Fe blotted out. So when Ta is the new tone, if we pass on to Te we reassert the old key. This treatment is called cliromatic, and is thus dis- tinguished from transitional. It is far more rare in music than change of key. The follow- ing are examjfies : — KEY D. I d* : s 1 1 : s I fe : f I m : — |j KEY C. I d‘ : s I 1 : ta I t : ri | d* — || Let the student now take a sheet of paper 222 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. and write the scale perpendicularly, with its . , semitones indicated by placing An exercise. gether. Let him add the Soh key on the right side, with its discrepancy at Fah. Let him then add another Soh key to that already made, and he will see that however many Soh keys he adds, one after another, exactly the same change takes place. The same is the case with the Fah keys, which may be added side-by- We now give some KEY D. side on the left hand, each requiring a flat- tening of Te. Sometimes we come upon a transition in which the intermediate keys are skipped over, and a new key is suddenly en- tered which requires three or four or more new scale notes. The silent quarter-pulse is indicated, as in Time. other cases of silence, by a vacant space. Thirds of a pulse arc marked by inverted commas (‘ ‘ Progressive Time Exercises. Bugle Call, “ Hay up, or Litter down.” {1 d .d,d :d .d j d .s, : d .Sj j ^ 1 d .d .d : d .d 1 d* .s :d' .s j 1 m .m.m :m .m I m .d :ni .d KEY F. I • Si .Si I d,Sj.m tdjSi.m | KEY G. d KEY F. ,s ; s .s Bugle Call, “ Defaulters.” , .m 1 d || Bugle Call, “ Salute for the Guard.” d,Si .m ,d 1 Sj :s,.,Sj 1 d :d ., d Id : j d.d :m.d 1 m.s :m.d i Sj :Sj., .Sj 1 Si : 1 j m .,f ;r ,.m : d .Sj d : :r Mazzinghi, “ Tom Starboard.” 1 m .,f : s .,m :l,s.f,m I r : > 1 in .,f :r .,m ;d .Sj | /■ = i d .r :in .s,f;m .r j / ^ I KEY A. Si j d KEY E. : — ! m :d :m Id :d I d Bugle Call, “ Quick Time, d: — ; — I m :d :m I d: — : — | ||d .,ti jli :-.,ti I d :r j m : 1 “ Men of Harlech.’ r .,111 I d ; — | — KEY C. .m : m .f I s :- .s :1 .s | d* s .m J. E. Thomas, “ Lily Bells and Roses.” id* I t .f : 1 : f I m .m : m .f II fe d* d* t .d* ;1 :- .t Before practising each exercise, answer to yourself the following questions, “ What is the measure — two, three, four, or Questions, gix.pulse ? ” “ On what pulse of the measure does the exercises begin, — first, ’second, second half of second?” etc. Then, by tapping with a pencil on the table, fix what you consider a natural speed for the exercise, and adhere rigidly to this from first to last. It will be better practice if you TAA-TAI the the Time Exercises, and then sing them on one tone to the syllable “ la,” before you use them to the Sol-fa syllables. KEY D. Peogeessive Tune Exeecises. The following exercises are double chants, arranged in two parts from well-knovm com- posers. The limits of this work do not allow of a large selection of attractive pieces for the learner ; but the educational purpose of these chapters will be best served by these exercises,, each of which contains some new point, and each of which should be mastered by the pupil before proceeding to the next. W. Wilcox. 1 s : — 1 :1 s : — s : — 1 :d* t :1 s : — Is: — 11 :1 Is: — 1 :— t :d> 1 d* :t j m; — f :f m: — m:— fe:fe fe:fe s — I m:— 1 f :f I m:— f :— r :m 1 r :r BOTANY. 223 KEY G. d:— m ;1 s : — d:— f :ni r :d d:— d :d ti- d:-- li d fi :fe, d:— m :1 1 Is: — 1 Is: — j r. Robinson. ! f :r 1 d:ti d:— d:— d ;d ti:- 1 ta^: — 1 li I SpSi d:— VIII. The Leaves {continued'). CONSIDEEABLE perplexity is often experienced by beginners in Botany over the difference between compound leaves and Leaf-axils, gp^-^ys of simple leaves. And truly, in such a case as that of a young shoot of the common Snowberry, Sym/phoria race- mosa, the resemblance to a large pinnate leaf is extremely close. The infallible distinction is this : In the angle formed by the shooting out of a leaf or its petiole from the stem, which angle is indicated by the name of the “axil,” there is always a bud. Most of these “ axil- lary ” buds wither away without ever attempt- ing to grow into twigs. Were they all to grow, the tree or plant would soon be self-choked, a disaster which nature effectually guards against by imposing this wholesale abortion. Nothing is ever generated except from an axil. Occasionally, no doubt, flowers seem to spring from the “ internodes,” or portions of stem which intervene between the leaves and their axils, as in the Bittersweet-nightshade Solanwni Dulcamara ; but this comes of the adhesion of the peduncle to the internode. A leaf-axil, either of the current year or of a bygone year, is always found to be the ori- ginal starting-place. The angles formed at the junction of the leaflets of a pinnate leaf with its rachis are also called “ axils.” But in these there is never the least sign of a bud ; the pinnate leaf, moreover, when dead or dying, disarticulates from the branch which produced it, and drops to the ground. Leaves endure for a single season, or indefi- nitely. When they expand in spring, and fall in autumn, they are said to be “deciduous” ; when persistent throughout the winter, the plant is “ evergreen.” The contrast be- tween the two periods of duration is so familiar that it scarcely needs mentioning. It is to be observed, however, that evergreens of every kind shed their leaves sooner or later. The dark needles of the Scotch pine are thrown off about the same time as those of deciduous trees. Hence the vividly given appearance of that noble tree towards the close of autumn. Through the dropping away of the old and defunct ones, the younger generations are left in exclusive possession; and until the seniors among these take their turn to become im- browned, the green complexion is maintained. In Britain there are only two large evergreen trees truly wild — the Scotch Pine and the Yew. After these come the PI oily and the Box, with which the brief catalogue ends, unless we count ivy, and the Arbutus at Killarney ; every other evergreen ever seen in England being exotic. A few shrubs and many perennial herbaceous plants are also evergreen. Were it not for the cheerful endurance, through the coldest winter, of the green leaves which in particular constitute grass, how desolate, as we have said already, would our country appear ! How many grand privileges there are in com- mon nature, of which we thoughtlessly take nO' account ! We thank God for our daily bread.. Were we honestly thankful at all points, w'e should thank Him likewise for the sunshine, and for the sweet permanent green of the fields, a thing impossible to over-value. Leaves acquire additional beauty, in scores 224 TUE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. of thousands of diflEerent plants, from orna- mented peeuliarities of the edge. Ornamentation When quite unbroken, as if of leaves, trimmed with seissors, the leaf is e margin, entire,” a condition very frequently observable, especially in endo- genous plants. Here, indeed, the ‘•entire” margin is almost universal, as one would ex- pect from the nature of the venation. The first departure is found in the “ serrate ” leaves, countless alike in herbaceous and arborescent plants ; the term applied to them, derived from the Latin serra (a saw), implying that the edge is delicately and acutely toothed. The depth and size of the serrations are very various in different species. Now and then they are microscopically minute, in which case of course they do not constitute an ornament ; most usually they are as in the rose-leaf, the elm, and the mountain-ash. There are leaves, also, which arc “ doubly serrate ” ; and some demand to be distinguished as coarsely serrate, distantly serrate, or imperfectly ser- rate, Nature being never tired of ringing every pos- sible change upon her sim- plest as well as most elabo- rate ideas. Serrated leaves always give to a plant an air of great lightness, very different from that of one in which every line is mathe- matically precise. Serrated leaves move by imperceptible gradation to- wards the class above des- cribed under the name of “pinnatifid.” Not that the transition is seen, except in special instances, in the same species of plant. But when search is made for interme- diate forms, nothing is easier than to lay out a series which shows plainly enough that, taking plants in the aggregate, there is no posi- tive line of demarcation. A good example of transition in the same species is supplied in the common dandelion. In nearly every leaf, during the spring and summer, of this despised but very interesting plant, the margins present a succession of great angles, slightly directed towards the base, and so singularly suggestive of the teeth of a lion, that the plant might well receive its name, the English one being only an altered spelling of the French dent-de-lion. But in Sep- tember there is a change. At this season there is often an energetic new growth of the foliage of many herbaceous plants that live through the winter as evergreens — the teasel, for example, and the Reseda Liiteola, as well as the dande- lion — and in none of them is it more remark- able than the last-named. There is no effort to produce flowers, unless an impatient one here and there seeks to anticipate the new year ; the burst of new growth is purely in the leaves. Many of these, in the dandelion, are now quite destitute of the accustomed lobes, and have, in place of them, very delicate little teeth. The precise time of their perfection is when the corn has all been harvested, when the ripe jet of the blackberry enriches the hedgerow, and the “ azured harebell ” is begin- ning to feel lonely. They very delightfully supplement what is popularly, but so ungra- ciously, called the “ Botany season,” as if Bo- tany meant nothing but flowers. The Botany season, to the observant, is never really over, since at every time of year there is something special to be learned. To suppose that Botany means flowers and nothing besides, is a pro- found mistake. If the young autumnal leaves of the dandelion are passed by as unworthy of notice, the facts that may be collected in summer are unworthy also. The serrated edge occasionally gives place to the “crenate.” In this the projections, instead of being angular, are rounded, so that the margin of Crenate the leaf presents a series of little eaves. semicircles, always remark- ably pretty, and presenting, in the aggregate, a condition scarcely found anywhere else in nature. Good examples are supplied by the common Betony, and the little wild- flower which goes by the unfortunate, because mis- leading name of “ Ground- ivy,” there being no connec- tion whatever with ivy truly so called. Crenate leaves occur more frequently in the Labiatae than in any other family. When the semicircles are much smaller than usual, the leaf is said to be “cre- nulate.” Minutely serrated leaves are similarly called “ serrulate.” Leaves in which the mar- gin is “ entire,” are sometimes fringed with silvery hairs, which give them an extremely pleasing character ; though, like all other ornaments, it is quite possible for the fringe to seem ' now and then almost superfluous. No better example of its decorative power can be desired than that which is furnished in spring and early summer by ithe common beech. The mingled green and roseate of the opening buds, the plaiting, and the inexpressible ten- derness of the Hinge, confer a charm upon this glorious tree in the month of May, such as no other native of Europe ever emulates. Leaves thus fringed are said to be “ ciliated,” from cilia, the eyelashes. Surface-ornamentation is of many different kinds. Sometimes the cuticle is not only smooth, like the finger - nails, when it is called “glabrous,” but Ornamentation glossy as well. The perfection of glossiness is found, perhaps, in certain species of Begonia, in which the leaves look as if recently oiled. Old England, how- ever, again presents a capital example in her riG. 39. — ENTIRE LEAVES. BOTANY. 225 native holly. The rich and vigorous sheen of this inestimable shrub is not surpassed by any inre and costly exotic ; the lustre of the foliage renders more telling, at the same time, the beauty of the scarlet bracelets worn at Christ- mas by the upper branchlets. Contrari- wise, or in opposition to the glabrous and glossy surface, in many leaves the cuticle is so densely covered with vegetable silk, wool, or fur, as to be completely concealed. In many Gnaphaliums, and in the wild English mul- lein ( Verhascum, Thap- sus), the fleecy vesture is possessed also by the stem and branches, and so thorough is the over- laying that the entire plant, everything ex- cept the flowers, seems made of flannel. In the silver-tree of the Cape of Good Hope {Leuca- dendron argenteum^, every leaf seems made of white silk, not the slightest indication of green being percepti- ble even in the very youngest leaves. More usually this beautiful clothing is confined to the under-surface of the leaves in which it occurs ; and of this there is not a lovelier example in nature than is sup- plied, once again, in its limitless fer- tility in all that is sweet, by old Eng- land. Every- where upon the mountains in the Lake district, min- gled with the turf, grows an unassuming little plant, three to six inches in stature, called the Alpine lady’s mantle {Alchemilla alpind). The leaves are five- to seven-lobed, like those of the common green lady’s mantle of the lowlands, but much more deeply, so as to be almost palmate, and every one of them is lined with satin so white and shining that the Leucadendron itself does no more, lin VOL. I. 7IU. 40.— DEEPLY SEEEATE LEAVES. PIG. 41. — ACACIAS WITH PHYLLODIA, comparison, than hold its own. The name of “ Lady’s mantle ” was bestowed upon these pretty plants in the Middle Ages, when, in imitation of the ancient practice of dedicating certain flowers and plants to the gods and goddesses, the fairest of those so dealt with being given to Venus, — many were consecrated to the Virgin Mary. The idea was, at all events, al- lowed to operate in re- gard to popular nomen- clature ; and hence, to this day we have Lady’s tresses. Lady’s slipper. Lady’s mantle. Some- times these names, and the others of similar fabric, are written “ la- dies’,” which of course is quite wrong. In every instance the primary association was with “ Our Lady,” as in the name of the Madonna lily. Here it may be as well to remark that certain names partly composed of “ mary ” are often mistakenly thought to be of cor- responding origin. Eosemary, for instance, has nothing to do with the Virgin, being an abbreviation of ros marinns — ^literally “ sea- dew ” — a very elegantly figurative or poetical name for this sea-side-loving shrub ; while marigold or marygold is in- trinsically the “ marsh gol- den flower,” that one which to-day is called scien- tifically Cal- tha palustris, the extension to the Calen- dula of the name “ mari- gold ” being comparatively modern. Most beautiful is the resem- blance of the Alchemilla leaf to an old- f ash ione d mantle. While young, it is folded up like a fan. In the very charming genus of shrubs called Elaeagnus, in their British relative the Hippo- phae, and in the North American Shepherdia, the leaves are densely covered, sometimes on 15 226 TUE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. both surfaces alike, with flat and starlike silvery scales, the similitude, to the naked being that of an incrusta- ® tion produced by chemical means. The microscope soon discloses their actual nature, as it does that also of the brilliantly- coloured spangles upon the under surface of the leaves of several of the Himalayan Rhodo- dendrons. These, however, are more or less isolated; and the same is the case wdth the inconceivably beautiful stars upon the leaves of the Japanese Deutzla scabra, very common, like all the preeeding, in gardens, and in which the resemblance to the starflshes found stranded upon the shore is exact and perfect. Stellate hairs of larger size, and not so symmetrical, are found upon the leaves of many species of Cruciferge and in the Lasiopetalum and other members of the Byttneriaceae. Analogous orna- ments, constituted, as it were, of heaps of fairyland pearls, stud the leaves, not uncom- monly, in plants of the family named after the Borage. The most exquisite of these are found porhaps in the Echium a^jerrimum. In the greater portion of the natural order which contains the aromatic herbs, mint, sage, thyme, marjoram, etc., the under surface of the leaf is apt to be thickly strewn with minute spherical bags of coloured oil, w’hich, when magnified, present an appearance truly brilliant. Similar globes are often scattered upon the calyx, lying in its deep longitudinal furrows, as may be very easily seen in the common culinary sage, where in colour and shine they resemble drops of liquid gold. Emerald is a frequent colour ; now and then the hue is a sumptuous claret- purple, the sheen unimaginable until beheld, as in the classical dittany, in which the beauty is enhanced by the spheres being embosomed in wool. The le^yes of the sweet-gale, of the sweet mountain-fem (^Lastreea Oreopteris), and of many other plants, exude oil-djops of the same general charaeter, and which, being protected by a delicate skin, constitute real vegetable jewels. Oil-glands. VII. The Third Declension. The nominative endings of the third declen- sion, you must observe, are various, and of various genders, but the genitive case singular always ends in is. Nouns ending in o, os, or, and er in the nominative are generally 'mascu- line ; those ending in is, as, aus, x, are generally feminine, and those ending in ar, ur, us, al, e, e, I, n, t, are generally neuter. I will now proceed to furnish you with examples of the different types of this declension, according to gender. Masculine nouns of the third declension : — Singular. N. lapis a stone V. lapis 0 stone A. lapidem a stone G. lapidis of a stone D. lapidi to a stone A. lapide with a stone Plural. N. lapides stones V. lapides 0 stones A. lapides stones G. lapidum of stones D. lapidihus to stones A. lapidibus with stones Singular. N. error a mistake V. error 0 mistake A. errdrem a mistake G. errdris of a mistake D. error! to a mistake A. errore by a mistake Plural. N. errores mistakes V. errores 0 mistakes A. errores mistakes G. errorum of mistakes D. erroribus to mistakes A. erroribus by mistakes Feminine nouns of the third declension Singular. N. \. ovis a sheep, or 0 sheep A. ovem a sheep G. ovis of a sheep D. ovi to a sheep A. 6v§ by a sheep Plural. N. V. oves sheep, or 0 sheep A. oves or ovis sheep G. ovium of sheep D. ovibus to sheep A. ovibus by sheep Singular. N. V. nubes a cloud, or 0 cloud A. nubem a cloud G. nubis of a cloud D. nubi to a cloud A. nube by a cloud Plural. N. V. nubes clouds, or 0 clouds A. nubes or nubis clouds G. nubium of clouds D. nubibus to clouds A. nubibus by clouds Singular. N. V. Virgo a virgin, or 0 virgin A. virginem a virgin G. virginis of a virgin D. virgin! to a virgin A. virgine by a virgin ASTRONOMY. 22r Plural. N. V. virgines A. virgines G. virginum D. virginibus A. virginibus virgins, or 0 virgins virgins of virgins to virgins by virgins Neuter nouns of tbe third declension : — Singular. N. vis strength N. mare the sea V. vis 0 strength V. mare 0 sea A. vim strength A. mare the sea G. vis of strength G. maris of the sea D. vi to strength D. mari to the sea A. vi by strength A. mari on the sea ' Plural. Plural. N. vires strength N. maria the seas V. vires 0 strength V. maria 0 seas A. vires strength A. maria the seas G. virium of strength G. marium of the seas D. viribus to strength D. mari bus to the seas A. viribus by strength A. maribus on the seas Plural. N. boves V. boves A. boves G. boum D. bobus & bubus A. bobus & bubus Singular. oxen O oxen oxen of oxen to oxen by oxen Singular. N. animal V, animal A. animal G. animalis U. animali A. animali (or animale) an animal O animal an animal of an animal to an animal by an animal Plural. N. animalia animals V. animalia 0 animals A. animalia animals G. animalium of animals D. animalibus to animals A. animalibus by animals N. Singular. nomen a name V. nomen 0 name A. nomen a name G. nominis of a name D. nomini to a name A. nomine by a name Plural. N. nomina names V. nomina 0 names A. nomina names G. nominum of names D. nominibus to names A. nominibus by names. (Observe, the neuter nouns of the third de- clension ending in e, al, and ar make the abla- tive singular in i, and the nominative, vocative, and accusative cases plural in ia, and the genitive plural in iuni, as above — except baccar, a berry, far, bread-corn, jnbar, a sunbeam, nectar, a divine drink, and par, an equal, which end in e in the ablative singular. ) Observe (1) Bos, an ox (masculine), and vis, force (feminine), are thus declined : — N. bos V. bos A. bovem G. bovis D. bovi A. bove Singular. an ox O ox an ox of an ox to an ox by an ox In the singular vis is used in a bad sense — of brute strength ; in the plural of courage. Observe (2) that aer, gen. aei'is (air), makes accusative singular in aera and aercni ; and cether (sky) in cethcra and cethcrem. Observe (3) that all rivers ending in is, as Tibris, the Tiber, make the accusative singular in im, not em, as Tibrim ; and that the follow- ing nouns make im in the accusative and i in the ablative case : tigris, a tiger ; sitis, thirst ; Uissis, a cough ; and securis, an axe. VIII. Early in 1620, Zucchi, an Italian Jesuit, was in possession of a more powerful telescope than that employed by Galileo, and on May 17th, 1620, he examined Jupiter, and dimly saw two greyish bands or belts stretching across Jupiter, upiter. which hitherto had been supposed to be a uniform dull yellow disc. Three years later, Fontana, a Neapolitan astronomer, saw three such belts. Grimaldi, an Italian philosopher, in 1648 devoted much time to watching Jupiter, and he discovered that these belts were nearly parallel to the plane of the orbit of the planet. He also saw some dim dusky spots on J upiter. Later the belts and spots were frequently seen, and found to be variable in their position and number. Hooke, a celebrated astronomer, even suspected that Jupiter must revolve on an axis to account for the changes he saw. * When Galileo examined the planet Saturn with his most powerful telescope, he was amazed to find that it was entirely unlike any of the others, and appeared Telescopic to be not one but three bodies. It seemed to consist of a large central body, about half the size of Jupiter, 228 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. wii'ii two smaller bodies on each side of it, so that it appeared as shown in tig. 27. Later on in the year he was surprised to find that the lesser bodies had become decidedly smaller than in the early part of the year. In 1611 his observations showed him that the two lesser bodies were very much smaller, and they con- tinued to grow smaller and smaller, until, to his great dismay, they entirely vanished in 1612. Galileo felt much alarmed as well as amazed, for he thought this extraordinary phenomenon would cast much discredit on his other observa- tions, as it seemed impossible that so unaccountable a thing could be other than an illusion. Later on these secondary bodies re-appeared, which showed that Galileo’s observations were quite trustworthy, and the appearance of this extra- ordinary planet was repeatedly examined by astronomers. As soon as more powerful and perfect telescopes were constructed, some further information was obtained, which only seemed to render the phenomenon more mys- terious. Ga'^sendi, a French astro- Extraordinary nomer, devoted much time to variations in drawing Saturn. He saw the })lanet at times as in fig. 27, but at of Saturn, other times the lesser bodies grew so large that they seemed to join the central body, and the whole to look like an ellipse, in which he seemed to see two very dusky crescent-shaped markings, as shown on fig. 28. Later on the planet appeared as if it had two handles to it; and these handles, or anscB, which were small when first seen, grew gradually larger, until they were like fig. 29, and then became smaller until they disappeared. In every fifteen years the whole appendages disappeared, and Saturn seemed a round planet like Jupiter. For nearly half a century these extraordinary variations in the shape of the planet perplexed astronomers, and many were the ingenious but fanciful explanations which were advanced to account for these changes. In 1666 Huygens, the famous Dutch astronomer, published a small pamphlet, in which he gave, under the form of an enigma, the true explanation of the phenomenon, and in 1659 he explicitly an- nounced his discovery in a work entitled “ Sy sterna Saturniuin.” According to this explanation, the planet is surrounded by a thin flat ring, sepa- rated from the body of the planet by a small interval, and inclined to the ecliptic, as shown in fig. 30. As the ring is very thin, when the edge is turned towards the earth the ring becomes invisible, and the planet appears quite round, like Jupiter ; and it will also be invisible when the dai’k side of the ring is turned towards the earth, as will sometimes happen for a short period. The same ex- planation also accounts for the changes in Their expla-‘ nation by Huygens. the appearance of the ring, which is always seen foreshortened into an ellipse ; but the amount of foreshortening being variable, at times the ellipse will look broad and at other times very narrow. On March 25th, 1655, Huygens was observing Saturn with his 1 2-feet telescope, of his own manufacture, and having, as already mentioned, an aperture of 3 inches, and provided with a power of 48, when he saw a small star on the west of the planet, and in the same plane as the ring, and another on the east, but not in the same plane. For some reason Huygens was led to suspect that this star might be a satellite, so on the next day he again examined Saturn. He was rejoiced to see that it was still in nearly the same position, though Saturn had moved some distance to the west, and the star which had been seen to the east was now much farther ofi;. As the western star had evidently moved wdth the planet, it was obvious that it must be connected with it and be a satellite. Further observation showed him that this w'as cor- , rect, and that the satellite re- ^hirnsmoon. volved round Saturn in rather less than 16 days — namely 15 d. 23 h. 13 m. Saturn, then, had a moon as well as the earth. It was more- over unique in possessing a ring. The earlier observers were un- able to make out much on the planet Mars. Galileo merely saw a red disc of very variable size : when the planet was n opposition or nearest the earth, and the earth between the sun and planet, it appeared two-thirds the size of Jupiter ; but when farthest from the earth and near the sun, which then lies between the planet and earth, the planet looked only like a rather large red star. Subsequent observers saw little more, though in 1636 Fon- tana, the Neapolitan astronomer, observed a grey spot on the planet ° which seemed to change position, so that he was led to suspect that the planet rotated on its axis. Nor could the early observers make much out of the planets Mercury and Venus ; they confirmed the dis- covery made by Galileo, that these planets had phases like the moon, and were variable in size as their distance from the earth varied, but they saw little if any- thing more. When Galileo turned his tele- scope upon the moon, he was delighted to find it to be a body having much resemblance to the earth. He found its surface to be divided into dark grey level Telescopic regions not unlike lunar seas and ® oceans, separated from each other by brighter elevated tracts having all the ap- pearance of being continents. He traced straits and broad arms uniting the different seas, he found them bordered in places by rugged and frowning cliffs, and in others by gradually ASTRONOMY. 220 shelving beaches ; he saw bays indenting the continents and capes penetrating the seas. There the sea seemed broken by an island, here the land seemed to enclose a level lake. In one spot he saw lofty mountains towering thousands of feet above the plains, and in another place the surface was broken by numerous valleys ; here rough and precipitous, there gentle and smiling. Everything pointed to the moon as the com- panion to the earth, — another world. More closely studied, the moon seemed to be a region of extinct volcanoes ; on all parts of the surface were seen immense craters, and radiating from these craters appeared long streaks of a bright grey colour as if they were old lava streaks. These lunar volcanoes were evidently extinct, for in places they were ruined, and no trace of an eruption could be detected. Scheiner, Gassendi, and Langrenus, a Spanish astronomer, devoted care and at- tention to studying the surface of the moon, and drew its appearance as seen under dilferent illuminations : for it was soon found that, the moon altered very much in appearance as the illumination varied. Those parts of the moon which were near the border which separated the illuminated .from the unillumi- nated portion of the moon were seen to cast long shadows, and the mountains stood up in bold relief ; whilst the regions near the centre of the bright portion of the moon appeared with- out shadows, and looked like white and grey markings on a yellowish ground. Hevelius, a citizen of Dantzic, and one of the most fa- mous obser- vers of the seventeenth century, care- fully exa- mined the surface of the moon with a telescope magnifying forty times. After four years’ study he employed his observa- tions for the purpose of constructing a complete map of the moon. For the sake of reference he named some of the principal spots, giving them a name after some fancied resemblance to a region on the earth. Thus a great chain of mountains he called the Alps, another the Apennines, etc. This map was published in 1647. Four years later Eiccioli lunar maps. q£ Bologna, an Italian Jesuit, published another map, founded partly on his own observations and partly on the observa- tions of Gassendi. He entirely rejected the nomenclature of Hevelius. and named the principal spots after distinguished astronomers and mathematicians. His principle of nomen- clature has been retained to the present day. These astronomers pointed out that the great grey plains seen on the moon were very pro- bably the beds of seas, but were Seas and moimtains. FIG. 31.— TELESCOPIC APPEARiNCE OP MAES. not seas, for they were not filled with water. In this respect there- fore the earth and moon differed, for the latter had no seas. That there was water on the moon they thought probable, and one of them pointed to some smooth very dark mountain rings which he thought were lakes. They also showed that the moon had not a dense atmosphere like ours, and that clouds seldom, if ever, obscured the surface, — so that it could not rain. Nor were there forests of green trees; yet, as one philosopher remarked, the lunar trees might have grey leaves, and both Hevelius and Eiccioli noticed regu- lar variations in the great grey spots or regions which existed on the moon. The conclusion was obvious that, though the moon and earth had many analogous features, yet the one was not a mere copy of the ether. One important result of these observations remains to be noticed; they discovered, by comparing the drawings of the moon made by Galileo, Scheiner, and Langrenus with their own, that the moon always turns the same face to the earth, so that we only see one-half of the entire moon, the farther hemisphere being invisible from its being always turned away from the earth. This was a great disappoint- ment, and opened a wide field for speculation. What does the other side of the moon look like? Some urged that it was most likely just the same as the side we see, but others would not listen to such a suggestion. They drew wondrous pictures of lakes and seas, of luxuriant forests, of gorgeous flowers, winding rivers, and smiling valleys. They crowded it with various species of animals, peopled it with inhabitants, built grand cities of marble and gold, covered its seas with boats and stately ships. This, they cried, must be the nature of the other side of the moon — that side which we, unfortunate mortals, shall never see. At this time, and in fact until the beginning of the nineteenth century, most astronomers believed the moon to be inhabited. Some more 230 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. enthusiastic than the rest proposed that great fires should be made by which Inhabitants of gjgnals could be sent to the lunar the moon, inhabitants. One suggested that the great desert of Sahara was made for the express purpose of sending such signals, and demanded that a message should be written on it with letters of black sand several miles long and a mile broad. Another suggested that the forty-seventh proposition of the First Book of Euclid should be constructed on a very large scale on some level region, as he felt positive that the lunar philosophers must have had to solve that problem by this time, and would recognise it. Many other fanciful ideas and plans were suggested. We shall see how the progress of science has modified these ideas. VII. § 54. Preponderance of English, in u-sage. § 55. Table of foreign elements in English. § 56. Latin, direct and indirect. § 54. (J)'). As regards the rocahidary, the English preponderates even here in actual usage, though it may not in the list-numbering of words. If we take a good modern dictionary the words are said to be about 100,000, of which two-thirds are calculated to be of classic origin : this will include Latin, French, and Greek of all periods. A dictionary, however, is a list of single words ; and of course this com- putation takes no account of the repetition of small and monosyllabic words which the living speech or written language requires. Mr. Marsh has made some careful calculations which bring out curious results. He says ; “ There are persons who know this vocabulary [of 100,000 words] in nearly its whole extent, but they understand a large proportion of it much as they are acquainted with Greek or Latin — that is, as the dialect of books, or of special arts or professions, and not as a living speech, the common language of daily and hourly thought.” In our ordinary conversation we do not employ more than three or four thou- sand words,* our best writers nine or ten thousand ; in the poems of the learned Milton not more than eight thousand are to be found ; in the pages of bhakespere about fifteen thou- sand. But when we come to examine the words, that are thus used, we test the native power and gauge its worth. The following table shows the difference in proportion between the total vocabularies — i.e., the stock of words found in counting through the whole of the Bible and of the written works of two authors — and the actual use of those words, counting repetitions. The figures show the percentage of English (Anglo- baxon) words.f Total Vocabularies. English Bible ... GO per cent. bhakespere GO per cent. Milton 33 per cent. Actual usage. per cent. John’s Gospel, chaps, i., iv., xvii. . . 96 Matthew, chaps, vii., xvii., xviii. , . 93 Luke, chaps, v., xii., xxiii 92 Romans, chaps, ii., vii., xi., xv. ... 90 Henry IV., pt. i.. Act ii 91 Othello, Act V 89 Tempest, Act i 88 L’ Allegro 90 II Penseroso 83 Paradise Lost, Book vi 80 So that though in his list of words a large share are of Romance family, each writer really uses the English words at his command by far the most frequently, unconsciously proving the native character of his language. § 55. The following table will, it is hoped, assist the student by showing, grouped to- gether, (1) what languages are the sources of modern English ; (2) the periods of time when they affected it ; and (3) a few words from each class by way of specimen. In the case of the Eastern languages, and of the “ first ages ” of the Keltic and the Latin, few more than those here given are found. Table of the Foreign Elements in English. Languages. When and how came into English. Specimens. 1. Keltic of the fint age ... Remains of the early inhabitants ; found in writers of ninth to twelfth centuries ; and geographical names. (See § 33.) Barrow, brock, breeches, clout, crock, kiln, cradle, mattock, pool. ,, ,, second ago More frequent words, in writers of thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Boast, boisterous, bribe, crag, dainty, dam, daub, glen, havoc, pillow, etc. ,, „ third age . Through the Norman-French, from the old Gauls. Bag, bargain, barter, basin, basket, bonnet, button, car, cart, mitten, pot, rogue, varlet, vassal, etc. „ „ fourth age Modem introductions, names of Keltic things. Bard, bog, brogue, clan, claymore, clog, log, kilt, pibroch, plaid, pony, shamrock, slab, whiskey, etc. * The uneducated naturally employ a much less number. Max Muller quotes an instance of some country labourers who had not more than 300 words in their vocabulary, t I take these figures from Marsh, Lecture VI. (ed. 1SC5). ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 231 Laitgitages. /2. SCAITDINAVIAN* When and how came into Engli^sh. Found in Northern writers of tenth and eleventh centuries. Specimens. Aren (are), by (a town), fel (a hill), til (to), thorpe. Again in writers of thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Also in (a) names of places, and (6) provincial dialects in the north of England. Blunt, bole, busk, cake, call, cast, curl, cat, die, daze, fellow, flit, ill, kid, kindle, odd, root, same, ugly, etc. GrimsJy, 'K.ir^s.thorpe, YLohnfirth, and places ending in fell, heck, shaw, garth. 3. Dutch ^4. Geeman A few words in modern times ... Boom, hoy, schooner, boor, cruise, loiter, ravel, stiver, yacht, etc. Landgrave, loafer, waltz, cobalt, nickel, zinc, quartz, felspar, etc. 6. Gbeeh A few, both directly and indirectly, through Romance tongues. Frensy, paralysis, presbyter, phan- tom, story ; palsy, parsidise, priest. {Q. Latin of the/rs< age Many directly, owing to the cultivation of science and literature. Came in with the Romans Grammar, analysis, geology, dia- gram, telegram, microphone, etc. Chester, coin, port, straet. (See § 33.) ♦» second age . Came in with the conversion of the English to Christianity by St. Au- gustine. (Bede [born 673] says of England in his day: “The Latin tongue is, by the study of the Scrip- tures, become common to all the nations in the island.”) Ancor (hermit), biscop (bishop), clerc, munec (monk), mynster (minster), preost (priest), regol (rule), butor (butter), cese (cheese), cedar, lac- tuce (lettuce), lilie (lily), pipor (pepper), camel, pard, ostre (oyster), leo (lion), turtle, pund (pound), candle, etc. third age ... Brought in by the Norman Conquest. Chiefly indirect Latin, having passed through French. Caliz, cuntesse, mayster, merci, mesure, poverte, dragon, damesele, abbey, grace, hermit, table, etc. Also some direct, owing to the Church and literature. Miracles, processiune, religiun, tem- ple, date, firmament, etc. ,, fourth age . Fbench of the first age . Introduced through the Revival of Learning at beginning of sixteenth century, and continued. Direct from the classic Latin. Norman-French, principally a deve- lopment of a Latin dialect, therefore the same as indirect Latin of the third age. „ second Modem French, —troduced during the reign of Charles II., and several times since. 8. Spanish Came in during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. 9. Italian Came in during a longer part of the same centuries. VlO. Pobtuguese (See comparison of Latin w^ords at end of this Table.) Aiso many endings and beginnings of words— such as -ance, -age, -ment, -ry, -let, -ess, -able, in hindrance, bondage, endearment, knavery, rivulet, princess, eatable ; em-, dis-, re-, in embolden, dis-sight, re-write, etc. Chagrin, grimace, repartee. D^but, depot, 41ite, programme, soiriecre. das shloss am mairr'-e. THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. The following verses are from a poem by Ludwig Uhland, one of the best German poets of the present century. Most of our readers will have met with Longfellow’s graceful translation of this poem. VVe subjoin some verses of the American poet’s version, for com- parison. ^aft bu ba^ hast doo dass shloss ge-zay'-en Hast thou the castle seen, ^o^)e 0c^lof am SWeer^? dass hd-c shloss am mairr The high castle by the sea? ©otbcn unb rofig meben golV-den unt ro'-zich vay'-ca Golden and rosy wave 2)ie SBoIfcn^ bariiber * dee veil' -ken darue'-her hairr The clouds thereover (hither). * ♦ * ♦ vole hah' ich ess ge-zay'-en Well have I it seen, 0^Io^ am 3)?ecr, dass ho'-e shloss am mairr The high castle by-the sea, j Unb ben 3)?onb* bariiber »ile^en, unt dane moand darue'-her stay'-en And the moon thereover stand, Unb S'Jebel meit um|)er, nnt nay'-hel vite nm, -hairr' And mists wide (far) around. ‘ Am is the contraction of an dem. An signifies at, by, near, on, — as Koln am Rheine, Cologne on the Rhine. An, signifying locahty, governs the dative case. j “ Schloss means in German a lock; as a building | das Schloss is a palace or castle, a great closed man- i sion ; die Burg (boorg) is a strohg or fortified castle: Schloss may be for residence. Burg must be for defence. ® Meer. The e of the dative case is often left out, especially in poetry ; thus we can say am Meere or am Jifeer, dem Sohne or dem Sohn. * Die Wolke, the cloud. Hence the English word the welkin. ® In German the sun is feminine, die Sonne, and the moon is masculine, dcr Mond, contrary to the general rule in other languages. ***** 0abfl ©u obcn qe^en zahst doo o' -hen gay'-cn Savvest thou above go ©en ^cniq unb fein (llemabi?® done hoc' -nidi unt zine ge-mahl The king and his consort ? ©er rotten iD^antel SBe^ien ? ’ dare roh'-ten men'-teT vay'-en Of the red mantles (the) waving, ©er qotbnen .kronen 0trabt?® dare golld -nen krd-nen strahl Of the golden crowns (the) beam ? gu^rten fte nic^t mit SSonne fuer'-ten zee nicht mit xon'-nc Led they not with bliss (Sine fc^bne Jungfrau® bar, i'-ne ,shveh'-ne yung'-from dahr A beautiful maiden forth, ^^errlicb'® mie eine 0onne, • hairr'-lich vec i'-ne zoi(-ne Glorious as a sun, 0tral;lcnb im gotbnen ^aar? strahV-ent im golld' -nen hahr Beaming in-the golden hair ? fa^ icb bie (SUern"bcibe xole zah ich dee clt-errn hy'-de Well saw I the parents, both Dbne bet kronen oh'-ne dare kro'-nen liecht' Without the crowns’ light, 3nt fc^imarjen 3:rauerHcibe im shvartz' -en trow' -err-kly-dc' In the black morning garment, 2)ie Jungfrau fa^ id) nicfit. dee yung-frow zah ich nicht The maiden saw I not. Longfellow renders the verses thus : — “ Hast thou seen that lordly castle, That castle by the sea ? Golden and red above it The clouds float gorgeously. ***** Well have I seen that castle, That castle by the sea, And the moon above it standing. And the mist rise solemnl3^ ***** • Ber GemM, for a woman, is a poetic license. In prose we should say die Gemahlin. “ Wie geht es Ihrer Trau Gemahlin ? ” Vee gate ess eerer frow ge-mahl'-in . (how goes it with [how does] your lady>jvife?) is an ordinary phrase of civility in German. ’ Wehen is literally to blow: Ber Wind weht kali, the . dare vint vayt kalt wind blows cold. Notice that wehen is written with a large letter when it occurs as a noun — “ the waving hence das Wehen, the blowing to and fro, or waving. ® Ber Strahl is also used for the flash : derBlitz-strahl, the lightning flash. ® Jungfrau, literally young lady. Herrlich is an adjective, from der Herr (anciently Herre), the master or lord. Herrlich means here ma- je.'Jtic. '* Bie Eltern, literally the elders. Schwartz, from which we have the word swarthy or swart. GERMAN. 243 And sawest thou on the turrets The king and his royal bride ? And the wave of their crimson mantles, And the golden crown of pride ? Led they not forth in rapture A beauteous maiden there, Resplendent as the morning sun, Beaming with golden hair ? Well saw I the ancient parents. Without the crown of pride ; They were moving slow, in weeds of woe. No maiden was by their side ! ” In these verses the American poet has made only one mistake, but that is an important error, as it interferes with the meaning of the poem. He translates (consort) as bride. The king and his consort are spoken of in the last verse as the ancient parents, and the maiden for whom they wear mourning was their daughter. The intention of Uhland’s poem is to illustrate the old saying of the Roman poet that Death knocks with equal foot at the poor man’s cottage and the monarch’s palace. Remarlis on the Pronunciation, etc., of the above . It cannot be too frequently impressed on the student who uses these readings for self- tuition that in the pronunciation great atten- tion must be paid to these five points:—!. That the German r is more sounded than the English. 2. That 'the 6) must be pronounced as in the Irish och, and not like och, except where indicated,— as in Sac()^/ where it is pro- nounced like hs or a; because followed by an s. 3. That the German a never has the sound at/ as in baker, or the medium sound as in banner, but always the ah sound as in father ; though sometimes it is longer than at others, — thus Stafel {taa'fel), table, is longer than SBaut) {vand), wall. 4. That the u in German is never pronounced as in the English word hungry , hut always either as n in pull, bull (the short u as in unter, under), or asoo in pool (the long u as in ba^ Ufct {of f err), the shore. 5. The ^ at the end of a word in German has the sound of the English ss ; thus there is no diffe- rence in the pronunciation of the final in bfl^^ and both being pronounced as with an English double e. Study in German Calligraphy. Hast Du das Schlosz gesehen. Wohl hab’ ich es gesehen Das hohe Schlosz am Meer, Und Nebel weit umher. Sahst Du oben gchen, OCiiAJf CUWKEJSXa ILLUSTRATED, PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 245 » Der Der goldnen Kronen Strahl ? Fuhrten sie nicht mit Wonne, Eine sclione Jungfrau dar Herrlich wie eine Sonne Strahlend im goldnen Haar ? Exercise on the Foregoing Study. To he translated into German, and corrected hy the German version given helom. The Ger- man poem should first he learnt hy heart. I have seen the high castle by the sea. The clouds blow over it. I saw the king and his consort walking above. They had not red cloaks ; they had black mourning garments. They did not lead the beautiful ihaiden, glorious as the sun. I saw the parents. They had not crowns — and I saw not the maiden. I saw the moon stand over the castle, and mists far around. German Version. ^abe ba^ ©cbtof am 5??eere Ich hahe dass ho' e schloss am mairrc gefel;en. Die Solfcn meben bariiber ge-zay'-en Bee roll' -hen vay'-en darue'herr ber. fab ben .^bnig unb fetne @e= hairr Ich zah dane Tcoe’-nich unt zi'-ne ge- mabtin oben geben. ©ie batten nicbt maliV-in o' -hen gay'-en zee hat -ten nicht rotbe 21?antet ; fie batten fcbmarje roh-te men' -tel zee hat -ten shvart-se Drauerfleiber. ©ie fiibrten nicbt bie trow' -err-hly' -dcrr zee fuehr'ten nicht dee fcbbne Jungfrau, mie bie ©onne. shoeh'-ne y^ing-frow hairr' -lich vee dee zon'-ne. 3cb fab bie gttern. ©ie batten nicbt Ich zah dee el'-tern zee hat -ten nicht kronen; unb icb fab nicbt bie ^wngfrau. hro'-nen unt ich zah nicht dee yungfirorb 3cb fab ben 91?onb fiber bem ©cbloffe Ich zah den moand ue'-herr dame shlos'-se fteben, unb 9?ebet meit umber. stay'-en unt nay'-hel vite um-hairr'. VII. Ocean Currents. The water of the ocean is perpetually moving, not only on the surface, hut by the action of 246 THE vnivehsal instructor. currents, or immense streams moving around and about the surface of the globe, in obedience to certain motive forces. These are principally, the force of winds ; the tidal force (explained hereafter); differences of temperature, which expand or contract water by heat and cold ; the evaporating power of the sun ; melting of masses of ices at the poles ; and the revolution of the earth about its axis. There are dy'ift currents and stream currents, the Varied currents, former due to the action of winds upon the surface water, impelling it to leeward (or in a direction contrary to that fi’om which the wind is blowing), until, meeting with some obstacle, land or sandbanks, its progress is arrested, and an accumulation of water pro- duced. The drift current then gives rise to a stream current, carrying off the collected waters, and restoring the equilibrium of the surface of the ocean. The average velocity of a drift current is about half a mile an hour ; that of a stream current is not unfrequently five miles an hour. There are also periodical, consta7it, variable, and counter currents. Periodical currents occur at certain seasons of the year, the time of which is generally known to navigators, and are due to the action of tides and winds, especially monsoons — those winds which, in the Indian Ocean, blow from the south-west from April to October, and from the north-east from October to April, the two periods of change being generally accompanied by great atmospherical disturbance. Constant currents are, as the name implies, in continual operation — the great oceanic rivers, as they have been named, perpetually flowing. Variable currents are occasioned by the action of the tides, changeable winds, and the melting of ice, which is obviously uncertain as to period or duration. Counter currents are those remark- a])le streams that flow alongside other currents, but in opposite directions. These are in some instances very remarkable, as a cold current will be observed running southward in imme- diate proximity to a hot current having a northward direction. The most remarkable currents are in the Atlantic Ocean, and they have been most accurately observed by scientific ^^ent^s navigators. The South Atlantic curren s. current flows round the Cape of Good Hope from the Indian Ocean, and follows the course of the African coast nearly as far as the equator, with an average breadth of about s^ty miles, and a velocity of a mile an hour, ^then diverges westward, forming the powerful Equatorial current, and flowing with increased extent and velocity to the South American coast, where it divides into two branches, the southern being known as the Brazil current, extending as far as the mouth of the La Plata river, and the northern entering the Gulf of Mexico between Cuba and the peninsula of Yucatan, following the coast line to the delta of the Mississippi. Here, as we have already observed, the temperature of the ocean is higher than in any other part of the world, and the current, thereafter known as the Gulf Stream,, carries onward a stream of hot water, travelling at the rate of five miles an hour, through the Strait of Florida, into the Atlantie Ocean, following the American coast as far as Cape Hatteras, in North Carohna, where it bends to the east, crosses the Atlantic to the Azores Islands, about lat. 40° N., but throwing off a north current, which strikes the western shores of Great Britain and Ireland, then skirting the coast of Norway as far as the North Cape, and the effect is sometimes felt as high as Spitzbergen. The great stream of hot water thus carried northward accounts for the high temperature of north-western Europe as compared w'ith those parts of North America lying under the same latitudes. The district about North Cape is habitable, but in almost corresponding latitudes of the western hemi- sphere are the “thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice,” where so many brave Arctic explorers have encountered a terrible death. Near the Azores, after a circuit of more than 3,000 miles from the Strait of Florida, the main stream of the current passes Gibraltar, Madeira, and the Canaries, becoming at last mingled with the great Equatorial current, the circuit having been completed in about two years and ten months. In the centre of the circle formed by the going out and returning currents is a vast mass of floating seaweed, known as the Sargasso Sea, the “ sea\veed meadows ” of the early Spanish navigators. The course of the current which we have traced is clearly perceptible, the water being salter, and of a deeper blue colour, and of a higher temperature than the surrounding sea. One of the facts which greatly impressed Columbus before un- dertaking his great voj^age of discovery was the drifting of the bodies of men of unknown race to the shores of the Azores. They were doubtless American Indians, carried forward by the Gulf Stream and deposited on the shores of an Atlantic island — unconscious messengers from the New World to the Old. An Arctic current of cold w'ater, bearing many icebergs, flows from the Arctic Ocean to the east of the Great Bank of Newfound- land, where the meeting of the cold and hot waters produce the fogs which mark that region. There are several smaller and less im- portant currents The currents of the Pacific are less accu- rately known than those of the Atlantic, but navigators are daily increasing our knowledge of the subject. Pacific The great Antarctic drift cur- currents. flowing from the icy regions of the extreme south, strikes the southern point of Terra del Fuego, at Cape Horn, from which it takes its name, dividing into two branches, one flowing toward the Atlantic, the other in a northerly direction, following the coast line as far as Cape Blanco, about 250 miles south of the equatorial line. The latter is the Peruvian or Humboldt's current. That distinguished observer, in the course of his investigations on the western coast of South America, about the beginning of the present century, noticed that a broad stream of cold water was perpetually flowing from the south. He made careful ex- periments, the result of which was the discovery of a powerful cun-ent, somewhat similar in cha- HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 247 racter to the well-known Atlantic Gulf-stream, and the temperature of which was from fifteen to twenty degrees below that of the surround- ing ocean. When near the equator the current takes a westerly direction across the ocean, mingling with the great Equatorial drift cur- rent, which flows on either side of the equatorial line, having an average breadth of about 3,000 miles and travelling at the rate of about thirty miles a day. This immense current is divided by a smaller current — the Equatorial counter current, flowing in an opposite direction — into two branches having parallel courses. Tbe southern branch strikes the Australian coast, and under the name of the Australian current sweeps round the south-eastern angle of the great island, and then, again taking an easterly direction, washes the shores of New Zealand. A warm current to the south of Van Diemen’s Land appears to connect the Indian and Pacific Oceans. The northern branch of the great Equatorial current sweeps along the shores of the Philippine and Japanese Islands (where it has a varying velocity of from fifty to a hundred and twenty . miles a day) towards Behring’s Straits, through which a portion of the stream passes with considerable velocity; but the greater body of water is carried towards the American coast which it follows till near the Californian peninsula, when it turns west- ward, and completes a sort of circle by re- ■entering the Great Current. There are various currents in the Indian Ocean, some dependent on the monsoons. The most important are the equatorial, events of the Passage Drift Current, origi- an cean. south- west of Aus- tralia, flowing northwards to the Tropic of Capricorn, then turning to the west and .sweeping across the ocean to the north of Madagascar; and the Moaavihique current, a continuation of the preceding, but far more powerful and rapid, having a velocity of nearly six miles an hour in some parts, and flowing through the Mozambique Channel to the south extremity of Africa. VIII. The Reign of the Emperor Charles V. Part I. Since the time of Charlemagne, the great founder of the German empire, who died at Aix-la-Chapelle in 814, no king had possessed such an extent of territory as that which, in the first half of the sixteenth century, acknow- ledged the sway of the great Emperor Charles V. This mighty ruler is, during more than thirty- five years, the most prominent personage on the stage of the world; and the history of Charles is the history of Europe. Nothing in the outward appearance of the great emperor indicated the unwearied activity and the acuteness of his mind. C^les V. of His portraits, as painted by old ( 150 ^ 1 ^ 53 ) Lucas Kranach and others, exhibit a melancholy countenance, “ sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought” — the face of a man weary of life and its burdens ; nor do they greatly belie the feeling of the ruler whom they represent. For Charles undertook a task too great for a man to carry through, and indeed impossible in the century in which he lived. His great aim was to give unity once more to a dismembered empire and a shattered church; to restore to the tarnished imperial crown its pristine lustre, and once more to raise the imperial sceptre as the defender of the papal chair ; to be in Europe what that gieat Charles had been who founded the Gernran empii’e seven centuries before. But the clock of the world could not thus be put back. Irrtelligence arrd the spirit of liberty were irresistible ; and the universal monarchy of which he dreamt was not to be established in Europe even by his untiring energy and perseverance. And thus in the great objects of his life he failed. That Charles was a man of gi’eat and rare ability, is undeniable. Close and taciturn, he kept his plans to himself, and followed them out peiseveringly through years of difficulty and discouragement. Sagacious in divining the thoughts and chai-acteis of men, he listened readily to the suggestions of grave and ex- perienced statesmen ; deliberate and far-seeing, he readily took advantage of the erroi'S com- mitted by his enemies ; and in pursuing his ends used every means, even duplieity and falsehood. The extent of his dominions was enormous. The marriage of his paternal grand- parents, Maximilian of Austria and Mary, daughter and heiress of Charles the Bold of Burgundy, gave him the inheritance of the great Austrian territories and of the Nether- lands. To the Netherlands he succeeded in his early years, at the death of his father Philip the Handsome ; and in 1 5 1 9 the death of his grand- father Maximilian put him in possession of the Austrian inheritance. A grand legacy, that of the great Spanish monarchy, fell to him at the death of B’erdinand of Aragon, his maternal grandfather ; for Ferdinand and his queen Isabella of Castile w'ere the parents of that unhappy Joanna, who was wedded to Philip the Handsome, and whose grief at the death of her husband darkened into incurable mad- ness. The beautiful kingdom of Naples and Sicily, and the wealthy and fruitful lands lately discovered in the West India Islands and the mainland of America, filled up the measure of a kingdom of which it could with truth be said that the sun never set upon it. But many difficulties and dangers were con- nected with the government of this vast empire, consisting of various • nations, each with its separate manners, customs, and preju- dices. In the Netherlands the great commercial 248 TUE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. cities jealously watched every action of the ruler ; for the citizens were rich, turbulent, and extremely tenacious of their municipal rights, and ready to revolt on very slight pro- vocation ; in Spain a haughty nobility stood frequently aiTa 3 ’’ed against the power of the throne; Naples and Sicily lay open to the attacks of those corsairs who for centuries were the terrors of the Mediterranean coasts ; Austria was continually^ menaced by the sword of the Turks ; and in (iermany the princes and lords were tilled with suspicion and dislike at the prospect of an imperial rule that might interfere with their individual independence and authority. Thus the reign of Charles was spent in contests in which the great extent of his territories was rather a disadvantage to Maximilian of Austria half a century before, had laid the foundation of a bitter feud between the royal houses of France and Austria, which had been carried on from generation to generation. The Austrian and the French monarchies had both increased in power and importance ; and each aimed at supremacy on the continent of Europe. With this supremacy the title of “Emperor of Germany” was necessarily asso- ciated ; and both Charles and Francis accord- ingly employed every influence, each to secure his own election. The two princes publicly disavowed all hostile feeling in this rivalry, but each was bitterly ^walry-with incensed against the other ; and when the choice of the electors fell ranee, upon Charles, Francis endeavoured to weaken EOilE, SHOWING Si'. l-iiiJiJi o ANI> XHli CASILE OF ST. ANGELO. him than a help ; and the energy and perse- verance he displayed in his various enterprises failed to secure him complete success in one. The reign of Charles naturally falls into three great divisions — each including an im- ... jiortant series of events. These comprise respectively— his wars with Francis I. of France, his wars with the Turks and Moors, and the great internal war with his own vassals, the Protestant princes of Germany. Of the war with Francis the cruses are to be sought in the natural rivalry^ 1 e‘:ween the two monarchs, and the conflicting interests of l*-ie territories they governed. The seizure of the Burgundian jn-ovinee in France by Louis XT., and the marriage of Mary of Burgundy with the new emperor by open or covert alliances with every enemy of the Austrian house ; while Charles himself considered the weakening of France a paramount necessity for his own safety. Under such conditions peace could not long be maintained. Each of the two monarchs set up a claim to territories held by the other. Francis had invaded Milan; and the victory of IMarignano, gained after a murderous battle of two days, had put him in possession of that duchy, of Genoa, and a part of Lombardy. But Charles declared that the German emperor himself was feudal lord of Upper Italy. By persistent arts of diplomacy, he brought about an alliance with the pope, Henry VIII. of England, and the republic of Venice ; and a well-appointed army of German Lanzhnechte HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 249 was despatched across the Alps under Frunds- berg, Schartlin. and other approved leaders, to recover Milan for the emperor. This they effected, and Francesco Sforza became duke, as a vassal of Charles. Genoa also fell intb the hands of Charles, after a victory gained at Bicocco, over Lautrec, the general of Francis, in April 1.522 ; and Bonnivet, the despatched by Francis to recover Milan, failed to accom- plish his task. A great advantage to Charles in this war was the notable service rendered by the French Constable Charles de Bourbon, the greatest and richest of the French nobles. Enraged at the injustice of the king, who, partly at the instigation of his mother Louisa of Savoy, threatened Bourbon with the loss of turn in favour of Francis. The league formed by Charles had been dissolved. England had fallen off through the instigation of Wolsey, who had persuaded his master to join with Charles, hoping to gain the papal crown for himself, and now to his anger and mortification found for a second time another candidate preferred to him. The pope, Clement VII., declared himself neutra in the combat ; and Francis, with a larger and better appointed army than ever, had renewed the war in Lombardy, and laid siege to Pavia. Bourbon and the Spanish leader Pescaro succeeded in assembling a new army, and hastened to the relief of the besieged city. But the hireling soldiers demanded their pay, which the emperor was unable, there and then, to give. They rLOKJixNCii. a large part of his possessions, the Constable conspired against Francis ; and on the discovery of his proceedings fled from France and offered his sword to Charles against his own king. Charles gladly , accepted the service of a leader already famous for warlike skill ; and Bourbon, at the head of an army of mercenaries, drove the Swiss levies of Francis back across the Alps, and had actually invaded France, when a repulse inflicted by the citizens of Marseilles put an end for a time to his operations by bringing about the dispersal of his army. It was during Bonnivet’ s retreat that Bayard, ‘•the knight without fear and without re- proach,” was killed,' fighting bravely for his king. ' At the beginning of 1525, fortune seemed to then clamoured to be led to battle, hoping to indemnify themselves by the plunder of the rich French camp. A mistaken feeling of chivalry induced Francis to accept the offered challenge ; and on the 25th of February, 1525, the celebrated battle of Pavia was fought. Bourbon and Frundsberg led the attack of the German army. Francis and his men defended them- selves valiantly, but in vain. Ten thousand of his army were slain or drowned in the Ticino, the brave Bonnivet perishing among them. Francis and his ally, Henry d'Albret, king of Navarre, were obliged to surrender themselves as prisoners to the victor ; and then he wrote to his mother, Louisa of Savoy, that memorable letter in which the royal caj)tive told in p:oud 260 THE UiVIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. mournful words how all was lost excepting honour. This rictoiy at once reversed the position of affairs. Charles, lately threatened with grave* disaster, was now the most formi- Captmty of (j^ble potentate in Europe : Francis rrancisl. -was in his power ; and intoxicated with success, he meditated a scheme of uni- versal dominion, in which his late rival should be a vassal king dependent upon his favour. Cautious and cool, he for a time maintained an appearance of moderation in the face of the startled kingdoms of Europe ; but he treated Francis with a harshness that over-reached itself and excited the indignation of foreign courts. He imposed such hard conditions upon his captive as the price of peace, that the unfortunate king at first rejected Treaty of ,,.ith scorn ; and only after ^ ^ ^ ■ a captivity of almost a year did Francis sign the treaty of Madrid, after hand- ing a secret protest to some of his followers, declaring that his signature was given under compulsion, and that he did not consider himself bound by it. The sacrifices exacted from him .were enormous. He was to cede Burgundy to Charles, to give up all pretensions to Milan and all Italian territory, to relinquish the suzerainty of Flanders and Artois, to restore Bourbon to all his possessions, to give up the cause of the King of Navarre, and to leave two of his sons as hostages in the power of his enemy. That such a treaty would be kept could hardly be expected. The hardness of the conqueror defeated his own object, and roused the indignation of Europe against the unscrupulous prince who' could triumph so ungenerously over a fallen enemy. Hitherto we have only shown how to express a sum of money in units of a lower denomi- na,tion than that in which it is given (i.e., we have shown how to express pounds in terms of shillings, and shillings in terms of pence, and so on). But frequently it is necessary to do just the opposite of this, and express pence in terms of shillings, shillings in terms of pounds, and so For example : Express 17221 farthings in pounds, shillings, and pence. In other words, find how many pounds, shillings, and pence will make the same sum as 17221 farthings. 4)17221 12)4305— remr. 1. 20)358 -remr. 9. Now it requires 4 farthings to make 1 penny ; clearly to find how many pence there are in 17221, we must divide 17221 by 4. This gives • us 4305 as quotient, and a remainder 1 (i.e., 17221 farthings = 4305 pence and 1 farthing. Again, there are 12 pence in 1 shilling ; to find the number of shillings in 4306 pence we must divide 4305 by 12. This gives us the quotient 358 and remainder 9 (i.e., 4306 pence = 358 shillings and 9 pence). Again, to find how many pounds there are in 358 shillings, we must divide 358 by 20. This gives us the quotient 17 and tho remainder 18 {i.e., 358 shillings = 17 pounds and 18 shillings). Thus we see that 17221 farthings = 4305 pence and 1 farthing. = 358 shillings and 9 pence and 1 farthing. = 17 pounds and 18 shillings and 9 pence and 1 farthing, which may be v.'ritten £17 18.y. Tlic answer, we observe, is made up of the last quotient, and the several remaindei-s, 18, 9, and 1. Example : Reduce 865 halfpence to pounds, shillings, and pence. 2)865 12)432 — 1 . . ?>., $65 halfpence = 432 pence ‘ and 1 halfpenny = 432|^. 20)36 — 0 . . . i.e., 432 pence = 36 shillings. 1 — 16 . . . i.e., 36 shillings = 1 pound and 16 shillings. Hence 865 halfpence = £1 16.?. 0^<7. Here, as in the last example,* the answer is made up of the last quotient (1) and the several remainders. By carefully comparing these examples with the following rule we shall be able to under- stand the Rule for Reduction of a quantity expressed in any given denominations to an equivalent quantity expressed in higher denomi- nations. Rule : — Divide the given number by the number of units of its denomination which it takes to make one unit of the next higher denomination, and note the remainder. Treat the quotient in the same way, noting the re- mainder, and so on. The last quotient and the several remainders vrill form the equivalent sum expressed in higher denominations. Thus in the above example the given quan- tity is expressed in halfpence. The next higher denomination is pence, and as it takes 2 half- pence to make 1 penny, we divide the given number 866 by 2. Again, the quotient 432 is expressed in pence. The next higher denomination is shillings, and as it takes 1 2 pence to make one shilling, we divide the 432 by 12 ; and so on with each successive quotient. N. B. — As the two kinds of reduction are exactly the conveme one of the other, the cor- rectness of any result obtained by either rule can be tested by applying the other rule to reduce this result back again to its original form. Thus by applying the first rule to the 17 - remr. 18. * Compare this example with the first example in Reduction. FRENCH PRONUNCIATION 261 result in the last example we can reduce the £1 16^. 0\d. back again to halfpence ; and if our work has been correct all through, it ought to reduce to 865 halfpence. Exercises. 1. How many pounds, shillings, and pence are there in each of the following sums : — 665^. : 384^Z. ; 87655. ; 9765<7. ; 8765121^^. ; 9686435. 2. In 37680 threepenny-pieces, how many shillings are there? How many sovereigns? 3. If a fruiterer buy 1000 oranges at three farthings each, how many pounds, shillings, and pence must he pay ? 4. If a farmer sells 100 geese at 3.?. 6<7. a head, and 200 chickens at 15. 3<7. a head, and out of the proceeds buys 10 dozen of wine at l5. per bottle, what surplus has he? 5. How much will three halfpence a day amount to in 7 years? And if Sundays be omitted, what difference will it make ? Answers: 1. Il5..9^<^. ; £1 125. ; £438 55. ; £10 45. u\d. ; £36522 II 5 . \d. ; £48127 35. 2. 94205. ; 471 sovs. 3. £3 25. U. 4. £21. 5. £15 195. i\d. ; difference £2 5s. 6d. YIII. Diphthongs. § 51. It has already been mentioned (§ 2, Rem.') that by diphthong the French under- stand a double sound uttered in one single effort of the voice, or sgllahle. This is the proper diphthong. Grammarians call improper diph- thongs those combinations of two or three vowels which produce one sound only, and which in these pages we call compound vowels (see § 30). It is with the proper diphthongs that we are dealing in this chapter. They divide themselves into two classes: those which, in wdiatever kind of composition they may appear, remain always one syllable; and those which are always scanned as two syllables when they appear in poetry, although they form but one syllable in prose. The diph- thong oi, for example, which offers the two sounds ou and a, blended in such a manner that the one is scarcely discernible from the other, is never split into two syllables, whether in prose or in verse. Le roi holt, the king drinks, will never be pronounced le rou-a hou-a ; nor could des chiens devorants, ravenous dogs, be ever read des chi-ins. But Diane, lion, mine would invariably and respectively pre- sent three, two, three syllables, in poetry : Di-a-ne, li-on, ru-i-ne. To dwell too long on the first of these syllables would be intolerable to delicate ears, even in poetry ; to do so at aU in colloquial speech would be betraying a pro- vincial origin. In this stanza, taken from a poem by A. de Musset — “ Tu les as vus, lea vtewx manoirs De cette ville aux palais noirs Qui fut Florence, Plus ennwyewse que Milan, Oil, du moiws, quatre ou cinq fois I’an, Cerrito danse,” — there are four different diphthongs, ieu, oi, ui (uyen standing for ui -f ieu), and oin (nasal, see § 50), not one of which would be separated into two syllables. The following extract however, contains several diphthongs which are treated as forming two syllables : — “ Tempe, sdjour c^lebre, 6 magique vallon ! Ou I’eau de SpercAias. d’Ampliryse et de P4n4e, D’ombrages ininaortels roulait environn^e. L’Olympe en tes bosquets vit errer tous ses dieux ; Pan qui sut animer des joncs mitlodieux ; Diane au carquois d’or, d^esse bocagere, Qui,” etc. Be Fontanes. The syllables chius, dieux (in vnHodieux), and Diane are read hi-us' , di-eux, Di-ane. It will be observed that whereas dieux remains a proper diphthong, the same syllable in rnelo- dieux is reckoned as two syllables. The same apparent anomaly is exhibited in these lines of Victor Hugo : ‘ ‘ Alors le mort sortit du sepulcre ; ses fieds Des bandes du linceul etaient encor Ids." Eeadj:>i5, but li-L “ Mais Eviradnus sent qu’on I’attaque en arriere, Se tourne, empoigne et tord la lame meurtriere.” Give three syllables to arriere (ar-rie-re), and four to meurtriere Qmeur-tri-e-re). These differences are not arbitrary ; they rest on an etymological basis wdiich it would be beyond our province to examine here ; but it is a safe rule to say that those diphthongs which appear in verbs and in their derivatives are treated as two syllables in verse. A care- ful study of a single page of poetry will prove more useful here than the most elaborate rules. From what precedes, it is evident that in poetry vowels are much separated from each other, and that the number of proper diph- thongs there is very limited indeed. Oratory, in this respect, is not unlike poetry ; but it is in ordinary conversation that vowels are made to glide more or less smoothly into one another. In prose, for example, niais, silly, possesses more the character of a diphthong than je niais, I was denying ; deesse blends less readily than Hesse, and nouaient than/<7?/c^; but to all intents and purposes those words present true diphthongs in colloquial French. § 52. Abandoning the strict classification of the diphthongs as given in the Remarh of § 2, we append here, in alphabetical order, most of the vowel combinations which are met with in French, and by figured pronunciation it will be easily discovered — (1) which are improper diphthongs (vel compound vowels) ; (2) which are proper diphthongs both in verse and in prose ; (3) which present the character of double sylla- bles in. verse, 'bvA progyer diphthongs in everyday prose. aa = a and a -f- a. For examples see § 17. ae = a + 6. Raphael, Eaphaello (I'a-pha-el), Gaete, Gaeta (pa-'etf). The name of Madame de Stael, the authoress of Corinne and VAlle- magne, is read Stal. 252 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. ae = a+6. Gy paste, golden vulture (py-pa-'etf'). ae = a-}-6. Aericn, atmospherical Israelite, Israelite (ji-sra-e-liif). ae = e. See § 30, a'i = almost the English i in prose. Mats, maize (rnls''). The a and i sounds are, how- ever, not quite so close as in the English i, and they are still more apart in Jamaique, Jamaica, and others. In verse ai always = a + i : “Ah ! le vautour lannoie et le caiman pleure.” Victor Hugo. Ah! le vau-tour lar-moi' et le ca-'i-man pleur' . 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 . It IS seen, therefore, that i constitutes one of the twelve syllables of the alexandrine or epic line quoted. ai = e and 4 (see § 31). For its sound in connection with liquid I, cf. § 31 and § 67. at = e. See § 32. ao = a -|- o. Cacao, cocoa (ca-ca-o'), chaos, chaos (Jta-os), Ao.ste, Aosta, (a-ost!'), LaocoonQa- o-co-oii). Curagao and Saone are pronounced cu-ra-go, soil'. For the grammatical term aoriste, the Academic has yielded to the school practice, and no longer recommends the sound ; say, therefore, In faon, Laon, paon, taon, ao = a. See § 41 a. aou = a + Aouter, to cause to ripen (a-ou-tey''), caoutchouc. India-rubber (ca-oyi- tchoyi), Raoyil, Ealph (I'a-ouV). Aoyit, August, is pronounced ou. The spelling raout, rout, saoyil, drunk, etc., is now discarded ; and although some yet pronounce ra-out,' the sound rouf is recommended. Soul is pro- nounced sou. aii = a + u. Esaii (e-za-u), Saiil (sa-uT). au = 6. See § 33. ay = e, oftener e + i. See § 34. ea = e -f a. Feal, trusty (Je-aV), il grea, he rigged {gre-a'). ea = a, because here e is merely a euphonic (or else an etymological) letter affecting the sound of the gutturals c and g. Doucedtre, sweetish (dou-sdtr''), rougedtre, reddish (rou- zlidtr’’), je longeais, I was skirting (lon-zhe'). It wiU be observed that e after the c is re- placed in the majority of cases by the cedilla. See § 9. eau -f 0 . Fleau, scourge preau, playground or prison yard (^pre-6^. eau = 6. See § 35. ee = 6 at the end of a word ; maree, tide Qyyya-re). This is true of both prose and verse, with this difference — that, in poetry, the sound e is lengthened^ at the end of the line, or even a faint whisper of a slender c (see § 20) is observable : “ On se rencontre, 6 choc hideux ! les deux armies, Se heurtent, de la meme 4pouvante enflamm^es.” F. Hugo. In singing, ee would, at the end of a line, form two distinct syllables, in which the e mute becoming the e slender, would occasionally be dwelt upon almost as long as the syllable formed by e : - 0 « _ . ^ K- -9 f— --2 m -fliqii— z?- ~rJ ^ - -V- rt 1 — De - puis un an vous e - tes ne - E, He - lo - 1 - se, le -^=4:^=1- sa - vez C’est la VO - tre plus bel - le an - ne E, etc. As the pause for breath must be taken at the I that extent. The following example presents a end of the line, the syllable e is diminished to I much smoother setting ; — — 1 - > 'I J. ^ * ■ r ■■ ■ ^ ^ 1 Quand tu chan - tes ber - ce - E Le soir, en-tre mes bras, n ^ M f' - r ^r i 5^ ' — L^_4^ J En-tends-tu ma pen - se - e, Qui, etc. A word cf the nature of maree, nee, annee, etc., would never present itself in the course of a line, unless it were followed by another word beginning with a vowel or mute, in which case the e mute of ee would entirely blend with the initial syllable of that next word. Words ending like armees and enflam- mees, in ees, would never be met with in the body of a line at all. When ee is followed by the final and inarticulate consonants r and z. it is pronounced as two syllables, viz., e -f- e : agreer, to agree (a-gre-e^, vous agreez, you agree (vou-za-gre-e). Preexister is pro- nounced pre-eg-zis-te. But ee = e e when it is followed by a double consonant and e mute, or simply by one final, and at the same time articulated, consonant. reelle, real, pr. re-el ! reel, real, pr. re-el deesse,godde&Q,^r.de-es' | BetliUeyn,^rM-tU-eiuf. den = 6 + in; as europeen, European {eyi-ro- LATIN. 253 pe-in), 'moreen, Morean {mo-re-in) ; but euro- peenne, moreenne, as above, viz., eu-ro-pe-en' , mo-re-en'. See § 46 c. ei = 6. See § 36. eo = o, because e is here used euphonically : geole, jail (zhoV), ptlongeon, plunge {plon! -zlwn) . eo = e + 0 . Geograpliie, geography {ge-o), neoph'yte, neophyte {ne-o). eoi = oi (see oi below). Ex., seoir, to sit, and derivatives (soir). In the following e is merely euphonic : hougeoir, candlestick {hou-zhoir), nageoire, fin {na-zhoir'), etc. eu = e + u. Ex., reussir, to succeed {re-u- sir). Phoceus {se-us'). eu = e. See § 37. ey = e. See § 38. ia = a proper diphthong wherein the two sounds i and a are discernible, in poetry as in prose: devil {dia-bV), fiacre, cab (Jia-cr'), Hard, farthing (liar''), piaffer, to strut (pia-fe). In most words, however, ia presents a proper diphthong in prose and a double syllable in verse : bestial, animal (bestial and be-sti-al), diademe, crown (dia-dem' and di-a-de-me), mariage, marriage (ma-riazh and ma-ri-a-ge), Twviciat, apprenticeship, and all in ciat (no-vi- cia and no-vi-ci-a). In verbs and their deriva- tives the double syllable is accentuated some- what in prose also : il cria, he shouted (cri-a), criard, clamorous (cri-ar), nous pridmes, we prayed (pri-dmJ). iai presents the same characteristics as ia. It is a proper diphthong in both prose and verse in but very few words : biais, shift, is pr. bi'e: — “ Voyons, voyons un peu par quel biais, de quel air.” 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 . Mol. The derivatives of biais, however, present a double syllable in the combination iai. In most words iai offers a proper diphthong in prose and a double .syllable in verse : breviaire, bre- viary (bre-vier' or bre-vi-e-re), liaison, connec- tion (lie-son or li-e-son). In verbs and their derivatives the double syllable is somewhat accentuated in prose also : je niais, I was deny- ing (ni-e). iau = id, a proper diphthong wherein the two sounds i and b are audible : bestiaux, cattle (bestib). Few cases. In baronniaux, coloniaux, etc., say ba-ro-nib, co-lo-nib in prose, but ba-ro- ni-b, co-lo-ni-b, in verse. ian = a proper nasal diphthong in a very small number of words ; the simple vowel i and the nasal vowel an are both heard : diantre, devil (diantr'), viandc, meat (viand'). Cf. § 2, Rem. 3, and § 50). Amiante, amian- thus, coriandre, coriander, fiance, bridegroom, present proper diphthongs in prose and double syllables in verse ; whereas priant, praying, riant, laughing, triangle, triangle, etc., being either verbal or compound forms, do not blend so readily in prose as amiante, etc. id = a proper diphthong in many words, when both the sounds i and e are perceptible. Pronounce, therefore, banniere, banner, jievre, fever, Ivmihre, light, niece, niece, etc., ba-nier', fi'evr', lu-mier', nies' , etc. The following, being verbs or verbal derivatives, present double syl- lables, which, as it has been mentioned in con- nection with other combinations, are more marked in verse than in prose : Us crierent, they shouted (cri-er'), priere, prayer (pri-er^) : ” Remplit tous les esprits d’aigreurs si m.Q\rctrieres, (tri-eres) Et fit du sang chrctien couler tant de rivieres." (ri- vie res). Boileau. ie = a proper diphthong in many words, when both sounds i and e are discernible. In verso, as in prose, therefore, read amitU, friendship, pitie, pity, etc., ami-tie. pi-tie, etc. Anxiete, anguish, piete, piety, satUte, surfeit, are read an-xi-e-te, pi-e-te, sa-ti-e-te ; the verbal form ie also presents the character of a double syl- lable, though more markedly in verse than in prose : lie, tied (li-e), marie, married (ma-ri-e). ie = ie, a proper diphthong both in verse and prose when it is followed by a final inarticu- late d: pied, foot (pie), il sied,it becomes (sie), je m'assieds, I sit down (ma-sie). In verbal forms iez constitutes a proper diphthong when i itself belongs to the termination, as vo'us auriez, you would have (au-rie), and a double syllable when i belongs to the stem of the verb, as vous vous mariez, you marry (ma-ri-e). Note. — iiez = i -j-ie = vo^(S vous mariiez, you were marrying (ma-ri-ie). When ie is followed by r final, it becomes a proper diphthong : acier, steel (a-sie), dossier, back of a seat (do-sie), prunier, plum-tree (pru-nie). In verbs in ier there would always be two syllables in verse and a proper diphthong in prose : “J ’avals voulu tantot vous parler de Clarice Quelqu’un de vos amis m’en est venu peier (pri-e). Dites-moi, seriez-vous pour elle a mabier? (ma-ri-e).” Corneille. Should ie be followed by a double consonant and e mute, or by one final and audible con- sonant, it would become, both in verse and prose, a proper diphthong with the sound ie : antienne, anthem (an-tien'), miette, crumb (mi'et), fier, proud (fier'), miel, honey (mieV). VIII. The Third Declension (continued^. Greek Nouns of the Third Declension are — Singular. N. V. lampas (/.) A. lampada G. lampadis D. lampadi A. lampade a lamp, 0 lamp a lamp of a lamp to a lamp by a lamp Plural. N. V. lampade s A. lampadas G. lampadum D. A. lampadibus lamps, 0 lamps lamps of lamps to or by lamps 264 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Singular. N. V. A. poema (/i.) a poem, 0 poem G. poematis of a poem D. poemati to a poem A. poemate by a poem Plural. N. Y. A. poemata poems, 0 poems G. poematum (or on) of poems D. poematis (or tibus) to poems A. poematibus by poems Like lampas decline — Pallas (/.), Minerva Dryas (/.), Dryad Lesbias if.), a Lesbian woman Like poema decline : — Schema (n.), a fashion Diadema (w.), a fillet Epigramma (».), an inscription Vocabulary of Words in the Third Declen- sion to he learnt by heart : — 1. Decline like lapis — Homo (jjn.), g. hominis, a man Pons (jn.), g. pontis, a bridge Princeps ign.), g. principis, a chief Macedo (gn.), g. Macedonis, a Macedonian Consul (m.), g. consulis, a consul Dux (gn.), g. ducis, a leader Like error — Auctor (w.), g. auctoris, an author Dolor (gn.) g. doloris, pain Mos {m.), g. moris, manner Amor (gi.), g. amoris, love Sol (gn.), g. soils, the sun • . Orator (in.), g. oratoris, an orator 2. Decline like ovU — Amussis (/.), a rule Sitis (/.), thirst Avis (/.), a bird Turris (/. ), a tower Navis (f.), 2 L ship Clavis (/.), a key Like virgo — Arbor (/.), g. -oris, a tree Imago (/.), g. -inis, an image Consuetude (/.), g. -inis, custom Hiems (/.), g. hiemis, winter Frons (f), g. -dis, a leaf Urbs (/.), g. -urbis, city 3. Decline like mare — Ancile (n.), sacred shield Altare (n.), a high altar Hastile (n.), a spear Cubile (n.), a bed Kete (n.), a net Sedile (n.), a seat Like nomen — Agmen (w.), a troop Corpus (w.), g. -oris, the body Crimen (%.), a charge Flumen (n.), a river Gramen (n.), grass Lumen (tj.), light Tempus (n.), g. -oris, time. Remember, also, that non = not, et = and, nec and neque — neither . . . nor, hie = here, nunc = now, unquam — ever, nunquam (non, not, unquam, ever) = never, est = is, sunt = are, erit = shall be (singular), erunt (plural) = will be. Self-Examination Questions and Exercises. What are the nominative endings, and what the genitive endings, of nouns of the third de- clension ? Which endings are generally mascu- line, which. feminine, and which neuter'/ Decline lapis, error, ovis, nubes, virgo, mare, animal, nomen, bos, vis. What nouns make the abl. singular in i, and the nom. plural in ia/ Give examples. How does the meaning of vis in the singular differ from vires in the plural? Decline aer, Tiber, poema, and lampas, and state what is peculiar in each. Write out the voca- bulary of nouns in the Third Declension. Translate into English : — Secundum hanc consuetudinem est dux virorum. Haec carmina sunt penes Consules. In turribus urbium erunt milites hujus principis. In poematibus sunt mores hominum. Nunquam per vires hominum erit gloria. Homines neque solis neque hiemis auctores sunt. O diademata hujus oratoris et hujus consulis in hac urbe ! Has erunt secundum amussim horum ducum. In his altaribus erunt corpora principum. Haec unquam erunt in hac urbe. Urbe sunt ancilia et hastilia. Per haec maria erunt retia. Agmina hominum sunt neque in his pontibus, neque in his navibus. Oratores erunt auctores morum hominum. Sitis erit corpori. Con- sulibus non erunt haec agmina hominum. In arbore est clavis urbis. Neque flumina neque gramina erunt in urbibus hominum. O tempora et mores hominum ! Est secundum hoc schema poematum. Per hanc lampada Dryadis. Translate into Latin ; — Now these poems will ever be in this city. On account of this thing never will there ^ thirst to this body. 0 light of men ! By these poems of the leaders of men. These Consuls were neither the chiefs nor the leaders of the Macedonians. Through the pain of the body there will be thirst. The birds are on the tower. Here are the seats of the birds. Through this winter the troops will be in the city. On these high altars will be the light of the sun. Concerning these bridges there will be a charge against the Consul. Into the Tiber. The love of pain is here. Through the key of the city. The animals of the city are not birds. The images of the trees will be on the sea and on the river. The seat of the Consul will never be in the city of the Macedonians. Neither pain nor thirst will be the custom in the city. Through time there will be a custom to men. A rule will be for the ships and the bridges. The leaves of the trees are on the grass. The sun is the author of light and leader of time. Here is the lamp of Minerva I Here is the strength of the oxen. Lesson IX. — The Fourth Declension. The nominative singular endings of nouns in the fourth declension are in us, generally ASTRONOMY. 265 . masculine, and in u neuter. Names of trees, as laurus, ;pinus, and others, and domus, are feminine. Singular. N. gradus (w.) a step V. gradus. 0 step A. gradum, a step G. gradus. of a step D. gradui. to a step A. gradu. by a step Plural. N. gradus, steps V. gradus. 0 steps A. gradus. steps G. graduum. of steps D. gradibusl 1 or 1 to steps A. gradibus ) -ubus ( by steps Singular. N. cornu (w.), a horn V. cornu, 0 horn A. cornu, a horn G. cornu, of a horn D. cornu. to a horn A. cornu. by a horn Plural. N. cornua horns V. cornua 0 horns A. cornua horns G. cornium of horns D. comibus | > or (to horns cornibus \ [ -ubus 1 Avith horns Domus, feminine. (This is a peculiar declension, partly of the second and partly of the fourth.) Singular. N. domus V. domus A. domum G. domus D. domui or domo A. domo a house O house a house of a house to a house in a house Plural. N. domus houses V. domus O houses i D. domibus to houses A. domibus in houses Observe that doini, at home, is an adverb. Note that the following words prefer tihus to ibus as the ending of the dative and ablative plural : arcus (w.), a bow', aHus (w.), a joint, portus (w.), a harbour, partus (w.), travail, quei'cus (/. as the name of a tree : remember the names of trees are generally feminine), an oak, tribus (/.), a tribe, acus (/.), a needle, i'er\i (w.), a spit. Vocabulary of Words of the Fourth Declen- sion, to be learnt by heart : — Like grad us. Exercitus (w.), an army Motus (w ), a motion Metus (//<.), a fear Eisus (w.), a laugh Jussus (m.), a command Fluctus (w,), a wave Like cornu. Gelu Qni), frost Genu (w.), a knee Veru (n.), a spit Tonitru (/j.), thunder Like donms. Laurus, a laurel. Self -Examination Questions and Exercises. What are the nominative and what the geni- tive ending of nouns of the fourth declension 2 and what the genders generally signiSed by their nominative endings ? Decline gradus, cornu, domus. What words prefer Hbus to ibus as the ending of the dative and ablative plural ? Write out the vocabulary of w'ords to be declined after the fourth declension, wdth their English equivalents and genders. Translate into English : — Per hunc gradum. Dolor erit in hoc genu. Erit nunquam motus hujus exerciths. Neque metus neque risus est in his exercitibus. Nunquam hie fluctus erit circum hanc domum. Domi non est. In hoc portu unquara erunt has naves. Infra hanc quercum est portus. Propter gelu hujus hiemis non erit motus horum exer- cituum. In hac tribu non erit risus. Hgec acus non est veru. Hi fluctus nunquam erunt extra hunc portum hujus urbis. O genua consulis et ducis hujus exercitus in urbe principum ! Dux Macedonum non est princeps hujus exercitus. Translate into Latin : — In the horns of this harbour are a laurel and an oak. Concerning the commands of the consul there will be laughter. There is fear in this army. There will be frost in the oak tree. Near to this laurel opposite to this house. At home there will be fear. Concerning the thunder above this army. In this tribe there will not be fear. The motion of the waves in this harbour is the cause of laughter (render “ a laugh ”) to the army. It is the thunder of the God. In these joints is the frost of fear. A needle will be in the knee of this (man). The steps of the army are in motion towards this city. The thunder is through the houses and through the harbour of the city. Beneath these waves is the house (or home) of fishes. IX. When the sun w'as studied wdth the telescope a number of small black spots were discovered on its surface, these spots being of most irregular size and form. The discovery seems to have been independently made, towards the end of 1610 I and beginning of 1611, by no less than four 256 THE UXIVEltSAL IXSTliUCTOR. observers : John Fabricius, a German astro- nomer; Scheiner, a Jesuit and professor of mathematics at Ingolstadtin Bavaria; Galileo in Italy ; and Hariot, the celebrated English mathematician. The discovery excited much astonishment, and many philosophers were incredulous, for it was at the time supposed that the very nature of the sun was irrecon- cilable with the existence of solar spots. To these early observers the spots seemed merely ii-regular 'h\a.ck marks on the surface of the sun, and they soon discovered that they were slowly moving across the solar disc. When first seen they were small and indistinct, and moved slowly; but as they approached the centre they appeared to move faster, and seemed larger. Fabricius pointed out that this indicated that the solar spots were actual markings on the surface of the sun, which had a uniform rotation on its axis, for then the ordinary rules of perspective would produce the changes noted in the apparent size and rate of motion of the spots. Galileo made the time of the rotation of the sun about 26 days, and remarked that it rotated Rotation of about an axis making a small the sun. inclination with the perpendicu- lar to the ecliptic. Scheiner, who studied the solar spots for many years, made the rotation about 24 i days, and found 7° for the inclina- tion of the axis to the perpendicular to the ecliptic. Modern observations make the period of the rotation 25^ days and the inclination of the axis 7^°. When the solar spots were more closely ob- served it was found that they Avere not of uniform darkness, but that they consisted of a black nucleus, surrounded by a dusky penum- bra, the latter being usually much larger than the former, and often one penumbra surrounding tAvo or more nuclei, Avdiilst occasionally a spot Avas seen to consist of a penumbra but no nucleus. In size they Avere found to be very A^ariable, ranging in diameter from a feAv seconds to one or two minutes of arc, the diameter of the sun being only thirty-two minutes. In number they were very variable, sometimes only two or three being visible, and at other times several dozen could be detected, and they seemed to have a tendency to appear in groups. Fig. 32 shoAvs a dravAung of the sun covered with a great number of spots, as they appeared to the early observers, and Avhere the size of the spots is exaggerated and the draAving very rough ; and fig. 33 shows a similar draAAung of a group of spots on a larger scale, and made with a higher power, but as coarsely delineated as before. Later we shall have an opportunity of comparing Avith modern drawings. It must be remarked that some of the earlier draAA*ings are much better executed than these. Both Galileo and Scheiner remarked that the spots seemed as a rule confined to the equatorial regions of the sun, and to be within 30° from the solar equator. The spots were not the only objects detected in the sun, but a number of long bright streaks Avere detected, and Avere called facnlce. These faculcB were brighter than the rest of the sun, and of very variable size, having a length of from tAvo or three seconds to a minute or more, and are generally very much longer than they are broad. They are most fre- quent in the neighbourhood of Bright mark- the groups of spots, and are best ® seen Avhen near the edge of the sun. The early observers also noticed that the entire surface of the sun seemed mottled or granulated in aspect, and that it AA'as markedly brighter at the centre than at the edge. The explanation of the origin of these black spots and bright markings Avas a constant theme for the early astronomers, but they Avere unable to arrive at a satisfactory explanation, although many Avild hypotheses Avere advanced. Some, like Galileo,, thought they Avere clouds ; others, like Gassendi and La Hire, imagined they Avere opaque bodies floating on an igneous sea ; Avhilst yet others thought they Avere vol- canoes, and still a fourth school that they Avere apertures in a luminous atmosphere revealing the dark body of the sun. All of these hypotheses broke doAA'n, hoAvever, Avhen carefully compared Avith the results of observation. As the orbits in Avhich Venus and Mercury revolve round the Sun are smaller than the orbit of the earth, it is evident that they will pass at times betAA’een the sun and earth. If the orbit of the planet AA^as in the same plane as the orbit of the earth, on every occasion that the planet passed between the earth and sun it Avould appear to pass over the sun as a' black body ; but as the ; Transits ef the inferior planets. plane of the orbit of the planet is ' inclined to the plane of the orbit of the earth, it is only AAfiien the planet is near one of its nodes Avhen it is passing betAA^een the sun and earth that the planet Avill be seen to pass over the disc of the sun, and that there Avill occur a traiisit, as it is called. This has been already explained Avhen Ave AA^ere considering the solar eclipses, Avhich are transits of the moon across the sun. Long before the invention of the telescope, astronomers had believed that they had seen transits of - Mercury across the sun, though Ave noAv knoAV that they must have taken a solar spot for the planet, because Mercury is so small that with the naked eye it cannot be seen on the sun. But in those early days of astronomy. Mercury was supposed to be about 1' in dia- meter, and ’^enus perhaps twice the size. In 1629, Kepler having finished his tables of the motions of the planets, pointed out that there aa'ouM ^e .several transits of Mercury and one transit of Venus across the sun during the seventeenth century ; and he drew attention to the fact that Avhereas transits of Mercury Avould not be uncommon, transits of Venus would be very rare. So rare indeed are these latter that he stated that there Avould be only one during the seventeenth century, and only two during the eighteenth century. Finally, he predicted that both Mercury and Venus would cross the sun in 1631, the former on November 7th and the latter on December 6th. Gassendi made arrangements to watch for these phenomena at Paris ; and so that he should not miss them through errors in the tables of the motions of the planets, he determined to ASTRONOMY. 257 commence his watch two days before the time predicted by Kepler. To observe the pheno- mena he admitted the solar light into a dark room by a small aperture in its shutter, and obtained in this manner an image of the sun projected on a white screen. On the 5th of November he was disappointed, for it rained all day ; and on the 6th he was no more fortunate, for though it did not rain, the sky was covered with clouds. This was not promising. Fortu- nately, on the 7th, the day which Kepler had predicted that the transit would occur, the sky turned out more promising, for though it was cloudy the clouds were broken. At about eight in the morn- ing the sun commenced to break through the clouds, arid First transit of Mercury. by nine he ob- tained a distinct image of the so- lar disc. He examined it care- fully, and saw a small black spot near the bottom, but no Mercury. However, he marked the position of this spot on the screen, because he thought it might prove useful, and if the planet in its transit passed near the spot, it might be used for finding the solar parallax. Later on he again had an opportunity of seeing the sun free from clouds, but still no Mercury ; but to his astonishment the small black spot seemed to have moved. It seemed very strange, and, after marking very carefully its place, he was wondering how he could have made such a mis- take in his previous observation, when the sun again came out. To his amazement, the spot had moved still further. There could be no doubt — no solar spot could move like that — the spot must be a planet in transit : it must be Mercury. He aroused himself instantly, and set to work to make ac- curate observations of its path, and signalled to his assistant, who was in an- other room, to make ob- servations of the height of the sun, by which to fix the time. Unfortu- nately his assistant had not the same faith in Kepler’s predictions as his master, and had gone aAvay, thinking no transit would now be seen. He Avas sent for, and after some delay arrived in haste and made the necessary observation, enabling Gassendi to fix 1 0 h. 28 m. A.M. as the time of its egress from the disc of the sun. Gassendi found from his observation that the transit occurred 4h. 49 m. 30s. before the time predicted by Kepler, and that instead of Mer- cury being about 60" in diameter it was not more than 20" in diameter. Although Gassendi was the only astronomer Avho was successful in seeing this transit of IMercury, he was not the only astronomer who watched for it ; both Schickhardt and Mostling VOL. I. FIG. 32.— SUX SPOTS. FIG. 33. watched in Germany, using a method similar to that employed by Gassendi, but making use of a larger aperture. The planet being so small, it was not seen by them, as they em- ployed too large an aperture to see so small a body. Gassendi now prepared to observe the transit of Venus, which Kepler had predicted would occur on the 6th December. He had stated that the planet would enter on the solar disc at a little before sunset. If, therefore, his tables were a little too early, the transit would not commence until after sunset, and so would not be visible in Europe. But Gassendi had found that Kep- ler’s tables of Mercury were late, and hoped that his tables of Venus might also be late, so that' the latter planet would begin its transit some time before sunset ; and ^ere- fore made arrangements simi- lar to those he had found successful for the transit of Mercury. On December 4th and 5th a violent storm prevented any observations ; and on the 6th he was also disappointed, for he only obtained occasional glimpses of the sun, and saw no trace of Venus, though this was the day of Kepler’s prediction. He felt, therefore, that he had lost the transit, unless Kepler’s tables were much too early. On the 7th the sky was clear, and he watched for the planet, but entirely without success. He had missed it. Kepler’s tables were a little early, and the transit had taken place during the night between the 6th and 7th. • Kepler had announced that the next transit of Venus to that of 1631 would be in 1761, or 130 years later, so astronomers felt that for a century and a third they must postpone all hopes of observing a transit of Venus across the sun. In 1639 there was living at Hoole, a small Lan- cashire village not far from Liverpool, a young clergyman of the name of Jeremiah Horrocks,who was endowed Avith great genius, and proved himself a great astronomer, though his early death in 1641, in his twenty-second year, cut short his career. Horrocks had been carefully comparing the position assigned to the planets by Kepler’s tables with their observed positions, and he found that they were moderately accurate, though often more than 15' out — not a large quantity in the state of astronomy then. He found that Kepler’s tables made the planet pass close under the sun on November 24, 1639, old style (December 4, neiv style). Horrocks had also compared with the observations some tables constructed by the Belgian astronomer Landsberg, which had been much vaunted by 17 GEOUP OF SUN SPOTS. 258 THE UXIVEHSAL INSTRUCTOR. their author, but to his disgust he found them very far inferior in accuracy to the tables of Kepler. Horrocks -was struck, however, by the fact tliat, according to Lands- Pirst transit of berg, on November 24, 1639, the enus. planet Venus would cross over the upper portion of the solar disc, so that a transit would occur. He knew these tables of Landsberg were very often wrong, but he had found that the true place of the planet was usually between the places predicted by Kepler and Landsberg; so that he thought it was just possible that though the tables of Landsberg might place the planet very much too far north, yet Kepler's tables might place it a little too far south, so that the planet might just cross the southern portion of the sun, instead of going a little south of it, as Kepler predicted. He carefully compared the tables with the observed place of the planet, and convinced himself that this would probably be the case. He therefore wrote to a young brother astronomer named Crabtree, who re- sided near Manchester, and requested him to watch for the transit. The 24th of November was a fine day, though many clouds covered the sun at intervals, and Horrocks watched the sun from the time of its rising. No planet appeared by the time he liad to go to church, it being a Sunday, whilst the sky became overcast with clouds. On his return, at a little after three, there seemed little chance of his obtaining a view of Venus, for the sky was still cloudy and the sun set before four. Fortunately, at about a little before the quarter, he saw a break in the clouds, which gradually approached the sun, and soon that luminary shone brightly through the gap. To his joy he saw a perfectly round large black spot just within the sun : it was the planet Venus. He watched it gradually moving across the sun for half an hour, when the setting of the latter put a stop to further observations, the planet having moved in that interval about twice its o^vn diameter. Its diameter he estimated at about 1' 12", which was much smaller than had been commonly supposed. Crabtree, at Broughton, near Man- chester, was also successful in seeing the planet, the sun bursting throug'n the clouds just before sunset. He estimated the diameter of the planet at 1' 3", Thus, the first transit of Venus known to have been observed was seen by two amateur astronomers in the north of England, and by them only. It seems strange that no other astronomer should have been on the watch for the phenomenon, which could have been seen weU in France ; for though it is true that Kepler had predicted that a transit would not occur, yet Landsberg’s tables were not without reputation at this time, and they actually pre- dicted a transit. Horrocks suggested several important im- provements in the theory of astronomy,* but * One of these was shewing how the inequality in the moon’s motion, tei-med the evection, conid be ex- plained by supposing the eccentricity of the moon’s elliptical orbit to be variable, and the moon’s perigee to be subject to a slight swaying from its mean posi- tion— thus anticipating Newton’s famous discovery. his early death prevented these being made public, so that they were lost to science, being only made known many years subsequently. These improvements show the great loss that was experienced by astronomy in the death of Horrocks, and render it probable that, had he lived, many of the great astronomical discoveries would have been achieved a century before their actual date. Subsequently a transit of Mercury was observed on November 3, 1651, by Shakerley, a young English astronomer, who had pro- ceeded to Surat, in India, for the express purpose of seeing it — thus inaugurating the long series of expeditions to secure astronomical observations. Another was seen on May 3, 1661, by a number of observers, including Huygens, Street, and Mercator, in London, and Hevelius in Dantzic ; and since then they have been repeatedly observed, occurring every few years. Hevelius made the diameter of Mercury only 12", which is close to its true value. The transits of Mercury, it is to be observed, are much more frequent than those of Venus, in consequence of the former planet being nearer the sun, and having thus a narrower orbit and a shorter year ; but they are not available for the determination of the solar parallax. VIII. Periods of the English Language. § 57. “Periods” of the language : change gradual. § 58. Modern tongues tend to become analytical. § 59. Periods : (1) Oli English ; (2) Early English-, (3) Middle English ; (4) Modern English. § 60. Weakening and loss of inflexion. I § 61. Dialects of Old English, ! § 63. And of Early English. § 63. Modern English the East Midland dialec . § 64. Pedigree of Modem English. § 57. It was explained before (§ 6) that dead languages, being no longer spoken, cannot alter, but that a living language, quickened by the necessities of daily speech, is always going through some change or other. When these changes take place near our own time, they occur so gradually that we do not always notice them ; it is by means of our literature that we are able to mark the differences that time brings about. Looking back to Addison (died 1719), we note a slight quaintness ; still further to Milton (died 1674), and Shakes- pere (died 1616) ; their diction and phraseology strike us with certain peculiarities which occasionally require some thought and inge- nuity to understand, but are on the whole perfectly comprehensible. Spenser (died 1599) is rather more difficult ; and when we get to Chaucer (died 1400) and W. Langland (died about 1400) the difference is so great that we are not able to read their works without con- siderable study. Going back to our earliest ENGLISH GltAMMAB. 259 ■s\Titers : to Kin^ Alfred (died 901), the his- torian Bede (died 731), and the poet Caedmon (about 690), the language looks so unlike our own that we might imagine it to be a foreign tongue. § 58. The English language obeys the law which has affected nearly all the members of the Low-Grerman family, the French, and others : beginning as synthetical, they have by degrees become weakened in their inflexions, have thrown them off, and have taken rela- tional words in their stead ; ihus, with a sim- plified grammar, they have arrived at the con- dition of analytical language (see before, §36). “ The tendencies of all modern languages known in literature are in one and the same direction — namely, to simplification of structure by rejection of inflections” (Marsh). § 59. For the sake of convenience, therefore, writers on this subject divide the stages of growth through which the language has passed into several Periods. Opinions are not entirely at one upon these divisions, nor upon the names to be given them ; we follow that authority which seems to give the most natural and the simplest means of reference. Certain broad features distinguish each period, but it must always be remembered that, however ac- celerated change may have been at any special time, the passage from one period to another was insensible, — no sharp boundary-line exists. (1) 01dEiiglisli(A.D. 450— 1100). From the coming of the Anglo-Saxons till a short time after the Norman Conquest. The language was inflected. It contained very few foreign elements. The writings of Caedmon, Bede, .^Elfric and King Alfred belong to this period. (2) Early English (A.d. 1100—1250). B’irst influence of the Norman-French. Spelling modified, and consequently the endings of the words weakened. The Brut, by Layamon ; the Ormuluni, by Ormin ; the Ancren Riwle, were written in the former part of this period ; in the latter part, the Story of Genesis and Exodus, the Owl and Nightinyale, and others. (3) Middle English (a.d. 1250 — 1485). Time of closer amalgamation of B’rench, till the introduction of printing into England. Gram- matical changes and loss of inflexions among nouns, adjectives, and verbs. In the first part of the period were wnitten a Metrical Chronicle, and Lives of Saints, said to be by Robert of Gloucester ; the Cursor Mundi ; Langtoft’s Metrical Chronicle ; the works of Robert of Brunne ; Hampole’s Prick of Conscience ; the Ayenhite of Inwyt ( = the “ Remorse of Con- science ”), by Michel of Northgate, Kent, In the latter part we find the works of Wyclif, Langland (who wrote Piers Plowman), Gower, Chaucer, and Caxton. (4) Modern English (A.D. 1485 to the pre- sent time). Two (or more) divisions might be made of this — the first one to include the Eliza- bethan period, ending about 1620. § 60. To trace out the details of the changes that took place in the first three periods is a work of time and careful study, one that will well repay the student, but which will be con- veniently postponed till some knowledge of the •gi’ammar of the present is attained. It will be useful, however, in some degree, to under- stand what is meant by the weakening of w'ord-endings and loss of inflexion. Take, for example, the old English form of to drink, the word drinc<77i ; in the second period this became drincert. Afterwards, in Wyclif or Chaucer, you find the n has dropt off^ leaving a weak e. After a time the e became silent (a to was put in to distinguish the word), and finally was lost. The Old English warnmw=to warn, is found as warnie in the Ancre7i Itbvle, whence the transition was not far to w’arne and warn. The tendency w'as to fall away from the broad an or on to the weaker en, then to drop the n, and finally the e, from being only half pro- nounced, became mute. Then, when it only survived on paper, it became forgotten what this represented, and it was often lost altogether. This is the explanation of the numerous e and en that occur in Chaucer (for example), where they represent either the whole, or the remains, of the inflexions of the Old English. “And smak birdes maken melodk.” The follovdng examples wdll show the break- ing-down through three dates : — 0. E. He hylt mid his mihte heofanus and eor^^rn and calle. About 1150. He halt mid his mihte heofen(:5S and eor'Sfln and fllle. About 1250. He halt mid his mihte hefene and QoCSe and «lle. He holdeth with his might heavens and earth and all. 0. E. Eall«/;i mannww gif hi motow- ric- sia/i and hi alecga'S. A.D. 1100. Eallea manner gyf \\eo vaoten rixi- gen and heo alecgidS, A.D. 1150. Alle monnca gif hi mo tea lixiaa and hi alleggatS. To all men, if they might hold sway, and they put down. Dialects of English (three first period.^). § 61. The sketch of the history of English would be incomplete without mention of the principal dialects that have been remarked. In the Old English before the Conquest there appear to have been two dialects, a northern and a southern, which arose, some writers think, from the difference of the original tribes who settled there. However that might be, it is in the language of the south that the best and widest literature of that period was written: even writers of the north, such as Caedmon and Bede, are known to us now chiefly by means of their transmission through the southern dialect ; the Saxon Chronicle is in this dialect. Of the northern there are not so many works, but enough remain to show the differences existing between the dialects, some of which indicate that the northern was nearer to our modern English than the southern. (See before, § 40.) § 62. In the Second Period there seem to have been so many varieties, each writer em- ploying the local foian which pleased him, that there can hardly be said to have been any standard language. But by the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries the language settled down 260 THE US IV Elis AL lySTRUCTOR. into three distinct forms, 'which are known as the Northern, Midland, and Southern dialects; the Xortherti was spoken in Northumberland, Durham, and Yorkshire, and the Lowlands of Scotland ; the Southern, in all counties south of the Thames, and in Somersetshire and Gloucestershire ; and the Midland, in all the Midland and East Anglian counties, also in Cumberland, Westmoreland, Lancashire, and Shropshire. § 63. Each dialect is known by special gram- matical differences: an easy one to retain in the memory is the ending of the plural present indicative of the verb — Southern ctli. Midland en. Northern es or s — that is, a Southerner would say (*) hahbeth, ('^) woncth ; a Midlander, (*j hahhen or haven, (-) ivonen ; a Northerner, haves or has, Q) rij tines, for our (*) we have, (■) we dwell, or (^) we run. The Midland dia- lect was the most important, — it covered the widest tract of country, and itself exhibited several varieties ; the one which it behoves us most to bear in mind is the East Midland , spoken in Lincoln- shire, Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex, for under the in- fluence of the writers who used it, and principally of Chaucer, whose Avorks were not only popular and widely read for many gene- rations, but imi- tated, the East Midland became that which was recognized as the best English all over the land. Thus, though that sweet “ Avell of English undefiled ” cannot lay claim to be the father of our poetry, as he is sometimes mis- takenly called, he may fairly be considered as the great appointer of our tongue. “ It was Chaucer’s influence that caused the East Mid- land speech to supersede the other dialects, and to assume the position of the standard literary English, fi’om which has come in a direct line, wdth but feAV flexional changes, the language spoken and written by educated Englishmen in all parts of the British Empire.” (Dr. Morris.) § 61. Pedigree of Modern English {Dialects and Periods'). OH English : Northern Southern (a.d. 4i;0-1100), 1 ' ^ ' 1 Early & Northn. Midland Southn. (.v.n. 1200-14G0) Middle: ^ J— , East Midi. West. Midi, and others. (Chancer I d. 1400). Modern English. THE El’DIOilETEK. VII. Water — {continued). The exact proportion in which the elements of Avater are combined, may be ascertained by an apparatus knoAAm as the Eudiometer. This consists of a „ strong glass tube, open at one '^'hometsr. end and closed at the other, two platinum Avires being introduced through the glass to convey an electric current. The tube, having been filled Avith mercury, is inverted Avith the open end doAviiAvards in a vessel containing the same liquid metal. A certain quantity of hydrogen is noAV introduced into the tube, being alloAved to pass up into it through the mer- cury. The tube being accurately graduated, Ave can ascertain the exact volume of this gas introduced. Let us say, for the sake of illustration, that it displaces the mer- cury to the space of 100 degrees. Oxygen is next ad- mitted in the pro- portion of three- quarters of the volume of the hy- drogen, and occu- pying therefore 7.5 degrees. The tube should not be more than half fiUed Avith the gaseous mixture, on account of the violence of the explosion, for which reason also it is necessary to press doAA*n the open end of the tube on a plate of caoutchouc, at the bottom of the vessel it stands in. The electric spark having been made to pass through the commingled gases, a flame is seen to descend in the tube, combination has taken place, and the interior of the glass is bedeAved with a small quantity of water. As this only amounts to VTrVfT part of the volume of the gases which go to form it, Ave need not take it into considera- tion, but proceed to estimate the proportion in AA-hich the gases have combined by admitting the merciiry into the The nature of tube. We now find that only 25 ^ ® pLined.^ parts, or f of the entire quantity of gas admitted into the eudiometer remains^ the rest having combined to form water, leaving, of course, a vacuum behind, now filled by the mercury. This gas turns out on examination to be pure oxygen, showing clearly that 50 CHEMISTRY. 2C1 parts out of the 75 introduced have combined with 100 of the hydrogen to form water. The result of the experiment is therefore to determine the fact that one volume of oxygen unites with exactly twice its own bulk of hy- drogen to form water. The former gas being 16 times as heavy as the latter, we know, there- fore, that the proportions by weight in which they are combined in water is as 8 to 1, The great heat which is evolved in the com- bustion of these two gases in a state of mixture, and which gives rise to the explosive violence with which they unite, may be turned to a useful account if the combustion be etfected gradually and under the control and direction of a special apparatus known as The oxy-hy- the oxy-hydrogen blowpipe, by drogen blow- j^^g^ns of which a jet of oxygen ■ is directed against one of burning hydrogen. A flame is thus produced which, while giving off very little light, pos- sesses so high a degree of tem- perature that any of the metals, even the most infusible, can readily be melted in it; the diamond itself is power- less to resist it. If a small piece of lime Ts in- troduced into the flame it soon becomes white-hot, or in- candescent, and glows with in- tense brilliancy, giving rise to one of the most powerful of ar- tificial lights. We have thus shown how water may be formed by bringing its constituent elements together and causing them to unite, and how that liquid may be itself decomposed or resolved into the gases of which it i.i; composed. These processes are known in chemistry as synthesis and analysis, — the one term signifying the bringing together, the other the separating or taking apart, of the elements of a compound. A simpler but readier method of Simpler means effecting the decomposition of ° water is by plunging a piece of red-hot iron into it; an ordinary kitchen poker will answer the purpose per- fectly well. The moment the red-hot iron is plunged into the water, the evolution of a con- siderable quantity of steam takes place with a hissing noise. This is not the only effect pro- duced, however. The metal iron, having a DISTILLATIOX OV WATEE. strong affinity for oxygen, possesses the power, when in a red-hot state, of partially decom- posing the water and taking up a portion of its oxygen, while liberating the hydrogen. The same result may be produced in a more efficient manner by means Steam decom- of a tube of iron or copper filled with iron filings in a red-hot state. If a jet of steam be directed into one end of the tube, it is decomposed in passing through the red-hot iron filings ; it parts with its oxygen, which is absorbed by the iron, and issues from the other end of the tube in the form of hydrogen. The singular metals sodium and potassium, possessing, as they do, a very strong affinity for oxy- ^ gen, will decompose water at ^^etalsf ordinary temperatures, by simply coming into contact with it. If a small piece of either of these metals be thrown upon the surface of a basin of water, it becomes in- cande s c ent, unites with great avidity with the oxy- gen of the water, forming soda or potash, and liberating the hydrogen, which bums with a purple flame. As these metals possess the power of decomposing water, even when in the solid state, they will, if thrown upon a lump of ice, produce the singular and startling effect of kindling a flame on that substance. Water is what is termed a volatile liquid, — a term applied to all those liquids that are instantly converted into their vapour in vacuo. The silent, invisible evaporation of water which is constantly going on in nature Evaporation. }:)erforms the important function of preserving the fertility of the globe we inhabit. We may remark here, parenthetically, that it is in conse- quence of evaporation that the surface of the earth dries up in flne weather, and that water, alcohol, ether, and other such liquids will dis- appear entirely if left to stand in an open vessel. Some solids even, as snow or ice, camphor, etc., are subject to evaporation ; and hence snow will disappear off the ground during the continuance at any time of a severe frost. 2G2 TUB UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. IX. The Noun (contlnvc(T)—AvviACA.T\os. EXEECISE XIII. Put the follo^Ain^ Substantives into the plural : Baton, stick son ; voix, voice ; nez, nose ; chapeau, hat ; cheveu, hair ',jovjou, toy ; quintal, hundredweight ; corail, coral ; canif, penknife ; lie, lily ; croix, cross ; fez, red Turkish cap ; corheau, crow ; neveu, nephew ; clwu, cabbage ; animal, beast ; email, enamel ; savon, soap — gaze, gauze ; gaz, gas—perdrix, partridge ; veitf, widower ; vis, screw ; las, stocking ; ananas, pine-apple ; loi, law ; vceu, wish ; pi'ix, price ; cri, shout ; cou, neck ; cheval, horse ; ecentail, fan ; coucou, cuckoo ; feu, fire ; chalumeav, a straw ; paille, straw ; verrou, bolt ; .wu, half- penny; epouvantail,&Qaxec.ro\x ', work ; brehis, ewe ; heller, ram ; agneau, lamb ; mouton, sheep ; — ours, bear ; ourse, she-bear ; onrson, cub of the bear ; — aveu, confession ; Frangais, Frenchman ; Russc, Russian ; Anglais, English- man; Par Parisian; mouse; caporal, corporal ; as, ace ; tas, heap •,—fouet, whip ; foi, faith ; fois, time ; foie, liver ; — sot, silly man ; seau, pitcher ; sceau, seal ; saut, leap — clou, nail ; filoxi, pickpocket ; voleur. thief ; pois, •pea ; haricot, bean ; drapcau, flag ; creux, cavity ; trou, hole ; appui, support ; domino, domino camail, priest-cloak. EXERCISE XIV. 1. Les fian9ailles allaient avoir lieu. 2, Ils sont aux abois. 3. Les vepres vont commencer. 4. Elle vient d’aller a matines. 5. Les moeurs des ancetres avaient quelque chose de simple.* * 6. Sont-elles aux aguets ? 7. Nous venons de voir les alentours. 8. Ils allaient chercher de Tor, de I’argent et du mercure dans les entrailles de la terre. 9. Combien aurons-nous d’arrhes? 10. Les assises allaient avoir lieu a York. 11. Le savoir a peu d’appas pour la paresse. 12. Vous veniez de voir les dbcombres et de couper les broussailles. 13. Quelqu’un de riche va faire les frais des funerailles du heros. 14. Nous venons de chercher les materiaux. 1.5. Les vivres venaient de manquer aux Parisiens. 16. Ils allaient rire a mes depens. 17. Je viens de voir quelque chose de joli. 18. Yiens-tutie chercher quelque chose de bon? 19. J’allais vendre mes hardes, car (/cr) mon pere venait de me {to me') couper les vivres. 20. Elies venaient de rire de (^at) mes pleurs. EXERCISE xv. 1 . Drinking, eating, and sleeping have more charms for idleness than {que) knovdedge. 2. The queen was going to see the ruins. 3. The sculpture (/.) of the ancestors had (imperfect) something noble and simple. 4. Thou w’ast * Words underlined are alike in both French and English. going to seek my stockings and (my) bats. 5. Vespers had just begun. 6. The warriors have just seen the queen. 7. Darkness was about to begin. 8. The corporals had just re- ceived crosses from the general. 9. I was going to have a sirloin. 10. Had she just seen some- thing pretty? 11. Thou art going to sell thy clothes. 12. How much (que de) rubbish in. the surrounding places ! 13. She was going to sell my fans and my cross. 14. The supplies are going to fail. 15. Is he going to laugh at the expense of the hero ? 16. The generals are about to go to the fire. 17. You had just gone (and) sought the jewels and the toys. 18. Have we just laughed at (de^ the scare- crows? 19. Thou wast going to have cabbage (plural). 20. The obsequies of the general are about to take place. Theory — (resumed). 1. Concrete and Abstract Nouns. — Common nouns are called concrete (con, together, and cresco, I grow) when they name things which fall within the range of our senses : legume, a vegetable, is called a concrete substantive be- cause it represents something we can touch, see, smell, and taste ; whereas verite, truth, is. called an abstract substantive (abs, away from, and traho, I draw) because it represents some- thing which does not come within the range of the senses. 2. On Substantives that have a double form, for the plural. — Of such there are four in French : ail, garlic ; a'ieid, forefather ; del, sky or heaven ; and osil, eye. The one plural is regular ; it is of later formation, and in- dicates special views taken of the noun. The other plural is irregular ; it is the older form, and maintains the original acceptation of the word. a. ail is written ails, as a botanical term : ily a qdusieurs especes d'aUs, there are several species of garlic. Looked upon as a vegetable its plural is axilx : lejardinier plante des aulx, the gardener is planting garlic. b. aieul is written aieuls when it means grandfathers : fai le bonlieur deposseder encore mes deux aieuls, I have the happiness of still possessing my two grandfathers. It is in that j sense that the feminine a'leule, grandmother, appears. In the meaning of ancestors, a'ieux is used : nne longue suite d'aieux illustres, a long line of illustrious ancestors. c. del takes an s in three phrases only : dels de lit, bed-testers ; dels de tableau, pic- ture skies ; and in the sense of climates : le del de la Provence et celuide V Italic sont bien, diff events des dels de V A ngleterre et de VEcosse, the climate of Provence and that of Italy are vastly different from those of England and Scotland. Otherwise the plural is deux : la voute des deux, the firmament ; notre pere qui es aux deux, our Father which art in heaven. d. In compound nouns, a??'? is written odls ; des oeils-de-boevf, bull’s eye windows ; des odls- de-chat. cat’s eye opals ; des oeils-de-perdrix, corns (so also ceil-de-bouc, a kind of shell ; oeil-de-chevre, a certain plant ; ceil d'or, a cer- FRENCH GRAMMAR. 263 tain fish, etc.). But we should say, les yeux du chat, the eyes of the cat ; dcs yciix hlciis, blue eyes ; les yenx du froniage, the eyes (holes) of the cheese, etc. 3. Plural of foreign nouns used in French. — Forei^ nouns, until recently, have received most cavalier treatment at the hand of French writers ; we refer here to neologisms only. Those taken from the German have undergone, in "most cases, a thorough tiuns- formation: vasistas (from was ist das?) and Vermont (for wermuth), already quoted (see § 2, p. 28) ; choiicroute, fermented cabbage,f rom sauerkraut; micmac, from misch- masck, etc. ; whereas Kirschwasser (also called kirsch), kreutzer, stockfish, etc., have undergone no change. In English words, although roast beef and beefsteak have been rubbed down to rosit/ and bfteck, some process is noticeable; e.g., lohiskey is no longer spelt wiskey, and the plural recommended fbr lady is no longer ladys, but ladies ; yet the Academic shows more conservatism in the retention of the two plurals torys and tories. In those Latin and Italian words which, from their appearance, claim yet to be foreign, although to all intents and purposes they are incorporated in the language, strange errors — all the stranger that if the French are anything, they are good Latin and Italian scholars— present themselves : to give errata and con- cetti as singular nouns does not seem to denote much accuracy. From what precedes it will not be wondered at that grammarians differ much as to the rule of the plural applicable to foreign nouns. Here, as elsewhere, we shall make our final appeal to the dictionary of the Academic, and look for supplementary confirmation to M. Littre. Those foreign words, whether altered or unaltered, which have become thoroughly naturalized, do take the sign of the French plural. In tracing, in the fol- lowing list, the origin of some nouns, we do not claim to go to the fountain-head ; we limit ourselves to mention from which language French obtained them. For instance, zero is placed under the Italian list, and is not ascribed to Arabic or Sanskrit, from which it may possibly come. Write, therefore, with an s m the plural, the fol- lowing nouns : a. From Latin; alleluia (rca^ not Zm-iu), halle- lujah, song of praise; agenda {t. <>« as in), memorandum- book; alibi; album (r. um as om', and so all nouns in urn, exceptpor/Mm— see § 49) ; alinea, a new paragraph ; benedicite, grace before meat ; criterium; debit {bit -be), balance of an account ; examen (c»=:e»' or i?0> examina- tion ; folw ; forum ; frater {ter — ter') , a friar ; impromptu {in-pron-ptu) ; lacabo, both a prayer and a cloth used in the sacrament of the communion, also a washhand- stand; lumbago {um — on) ; maqister, (<^r=ier'), country schoolmaster; memento {en — in), memorandum; museum (more generally musee) ; pensaim {pin-som'), imposition, ta&]s. ; placet {cetzzce), a petition ; qnidarn (r. lidan, and observe the unusual feminine quidane), a certain man, a certain woman ; quiproquo {In-pro-ko) ; quolibet {ko-li- be), a sorry joke ; recep'sse, receipt; recto, first page of a leaf; reiiquat {quat—ka), remainder of an account; specimen {n articulated) ; facet {t articulated), a pause; tibia; ultimatum; verso, second page of a leaf; veto; vertigo ; villa ; virago ; insa, examination and signing of an act; vivat {t articulated), cheer. — Remark: In ac- cessit {t artic.), and deficit {t artic.), the addition of s in the plural is optional ; and, in mathematical lan- guage, maximum and minimum take the Latin neuter plural, a. b. From the Italtan : alto, andante, aparte (an aside), concerto, contralto, domino, duo, imbroglio (r. imbroillefi numero, oratorio, piano, quintette {quin — kin), trio, zero. — Remark: Write lazzi with or without,*.- makes solos or soli; and carhonaro, condott.iere (Littre) , dihttante, lazzarone, scherzo (Litrr^), take the Italian plural, i. c. From the Spanish: alguazil {gua—goua), police- man ; aviso, dispatch-boat ; bolero, a dance ; embargo {em — an), prohibition; fandango, a dance; hidalgo, a nobleman, etc. d. From the English : bifteck, lord, rail.stiamer, tender, tilbury, tramway, truck, etc. All the more readily do these nouns take an s, as they do take one in the original. e. I rom the Geeee: diorama, echo, palladium, pano- rama, etc. Write alike in both numbers ; ave, amen, concetti (which is already an Italian plural), confiteor (Littre), ci'cdo, crescendo (Littr^), duplicata, errata (which should have the sing. erratum), ex/'at (J>-gze'-at'), item, magnificat (Littre), pater (r artic.), guatnor (here the Academie says no s, and M. Littre says ^), satisfecit (Littre, t artic.) ; add all compounds : de profundis, ecce-homo, facsimile, forte-piano, in-folio, inquarto, Gtc ', post-scriptum, Te Beum ; but, senatus-consulte takes s. Examples : On perissait demisere au bruit des Te Deem: et parmi les rejouissances (Voltaire), the people were perishing from sheer misery amidst the din of thanksgivings and rejoicings. Madame de Sevigne lisait des in-folio en douze jours quand il pleuvait (de Sainte-Beuve) , Madame de S. would read whole folios in twelve days when the weather was rainy. Quej’ai ecrit de lettres dans ce temps-ld sans compter les post-scriptum (C. Dela- vigne) ! How many letters I wrote at that time, without mentioning the postscripts ! Fuyez encerre les tours trop delicats, Des concetti V inutile fracas (de Bernis), Shun also excess of refinement, the bootless clash of empty conceits. It may be asked: in what sense are ave, confiteor, credo, magnificat, etc., used in the plural.^ One might say for illustration : cette femme repetait ses AVE et ses CONFITEOR ; void un marchand d' ecce-homo, here is a man selling prints of Our Lord’s passion, etc. Remark . — Auto da f^, lit. an act of faith— apphed to the burning of Jews and heretics — was until recently spelt in Fr. auto-dafe, alike in both numbers. It now appears as one word autodafe, and takes therefore s in the plural : assister d des auto fifes (A.), to witness the burning of heretics. Practical Application. 1, Learn the following promiscuous vocabu- lary ; Nouns. oiseau, m. bird pays, m. oountry Anglais, m. English astre, m. star bijou, m. jewel canal, m. canal cheval, m. horse ciel, m. sky dame, lady eventail, m.fan fille, daughter fils, son fieur,/. flower Fran 9 ais, m. French fusil de chasse, m. gun gaz, m. gas gouvernail, m. helm jardin, m. garden journal, m. newspaper langue.y. lanquage navire. m. skp neveu, nephew oeil, m. eye perdrix, f. partridge plante, plant pluriel, m. plural porte, /. door printemps, m. spring salle d’etude, f schoolroom sou, m. halfpenny tableau, m. board travail, m. work verrou, m. bolt Adjectives. ag^, aged, old bleu, blue chaud, warm compressible, compressible gris, grey noir, black 2. The first ten cardinal numerals are : 1, tin, 2, deux, 3, trois, 4, quatre, 6, cinq,. G, six, 7, sept, 8, huit, 9, neuf, 10, dix. 3. The above adjectives form their plural by adding s, except gris, which does not change in the masculine plural. 4. The demonstrative adjective this (or that, plural these or those) is ce placed before a masculine singular noun beginning with a con- sonant ; ce martcan, this or that hammer ; cct before a masc. sing, noun beginning with a vowel : cct arc, this bow ; cette before any fern. sing, noun : cette hrouette, this wheel- barrotv ; ccs before any noun in the plural : CCS martcaux, ccs arcs, ccs hrouettes. (In writing the following exercises, which o-ffer a recapitulation. Lesson V. must be kept in view.) 264 THE UXlVEItSAL INSTRUCTOR. • IX. The Leaves (^continued'). The more usual mode of loealizing the oil thus retained in or about the leaves and cah’x, is to keep it quite within the leaf, Dotted leaves, instead of allowing it to ooze out and constitute little superficial spheres. In the myrtle, for example, the orange-tree, and all the numerous species of their respective families, and in many other plants, the oil-bags are embedded in the very substance of the leaf. Being distinguishable only when the leaf is examined with a strong light behind it, they fail to give the ornamental character conferred by the other kind. Very valuable testimony is furnished by them, nevertheless, in re- gard to the affinities of plants, especially when, as in the Flacourtiacese, some are circular, others oblong, and the two kinds indif- ferently intermingled. Leaves possessed of these internal oil-bags are said to be “ dotted.” Excellent examples are supplied by most of the wild English species of St. John’s wort, wayside plants with yellow flowers, one of which bears the descriptive name of Hypericum ])e7f oration ; dotted leaves always seem- ing, when looked at as transparencies, as if they had been pricked through and through, in every por- tion, with a needle. Dotted leaves and external oil- glands appear to be en- tirely confined to the exo- genous class of flowering- plants; there are plenty of examples, how- ever, among Endogens, of interesting and curious hair and wool. Though pertaining to the flowers, and not to the leaf, here may be mentioned that in the whole scope of vegetable ornamentation of the kinds just particularised, there is seldom found an equal to the crimson vesture of the Anigozanthus, an Australian endogen of the greenhouse, called in the vernacular, by reason of its dark velvet pall, which is quite unique, the Funeral flower. Now that excellent microscopes, even bino- cular ones, can be obtained at a moderate cost, every house where the family Use the micro- considers itself intelligent ought scope. possess one — not, however, to be kept shut up in the box in which it arrives from the optician’s, but placed under a glass shade upon a table in the corner, so as to be ready, any moment, for use. We have named the above various little matters connected with leaf ornamentation, not merely because of their imjxjrtance from a purely scientific point of \dew, but to indicate at the same time how easily procurable, and how infinitely diversified, are microscopic objects of the choicest beauty. It is a mistake to think that a microscope means only remote and elaborate secrets, and rivalry as to who shall get nearer to the inscrutable. Far more sen- sible to take for one’s main pursuit the simple and lovely productions of the garden and the wayside. At all events, do the best you can to exhaust these in the first place, and a far sounder and serener pleasure will be the result. “To know That which before us lies in daily life Is the prime wisdom.” Nature has prescribed {irccn as the ruling colour for leaves, but with many plants vivid colour is quite as much the birthright. We might pause, were the matter less familiar, on the question what is green, the shades being endlessly di- versified. The most exqui- site shades are found per- haps among the ferns, and especially in the section called Filmy ferns, though even these scarcely excel some of the aquatics called Potamogetons, wliich are now and then, as in the P. Ivcetis, quite transparent. The darkest shades occur among the coniferous trees, and in the yew, owing to the intense concentration. The most remarkable shade is that one termed “ glau- cous,” well shown in the foliage of pinks and carna- tions, and common in grasses, especially when growing near the sea. When bright colours occur in leaves, they are usually developed at a very early period. Various species of Amaranth are full purple in every part, almost from the instant of emergence from the seed ; and seedlings of the variegated sycamore are beautifully dappled with rose-colour long before the cotyledons fall. In the mature plant the ornamental colour is either diffused throughout the leaf in general, or distributed so as to produce blotches of various kinds. The crimson varieties of Dracaena are painted almost from base to apex ; so are the leaves of the purple or copper beech. Some- times the rieh colour is confined to the under surface, in which case the plant often bears the specific name of “ discolor T Most usually the enrichment is in the form of irregular spots, as very strikingly expressed in the Cala- diums and in their wild Biitish representative, the common Arum of the hedgebanks, the FIG. 42 .— PASSIOX-FLOWEB. BOTANY. 265 Yellow in leaves. markincjs in which are deep purple. Pre- eniineut in all respects are some of the many marvellous varieties of the Codiceum variegatuni of the South Sea Islands, commonly cultivated in hothouses under the name of Crotons. The crimson of the corn-poppy alone matches their splendid hues ; and as the foliage endures all the year round, the transient charm of the Caladiums places their merit as decorative plants, by contrast, in a position still higher. Many of these so-called ‘‘ crotons” have the leaves variegated with yellow, sometimes so rich and plentiful that the plant seems a fountain of green and gold. Countless other plants, of late years, like the crotons, very fashionable — for there is fashion in floriculture as well as in human apparel— are occasionally variegated in similar manner ; the yellow appearing in blotches or distinct spots, and sometimes pale as a primrose. There are examples, also, of spots as white as milk, as in the Caladimi argyritcs. Here a different cause appears to be operative. Leaves distainecl with yellow, and those which are blanched by ac- cidental seclu- sion from the light — as when grass is covered up temporarily by a tile ; or which are de- s i g n e d 1 y blanched in the garden by adopt- ing a similar plan, as done with endive — the object being to subdue the flavour and thereby obtain a pleasing esculent — are understood to be deficient in their natural colour, not to be in the possession of a super- added tint. Nothing is more familiar, even in the ordinary routine of life, than the wan and sickly complexion of shoots produced in com- parative darkness. Whatever it may be that the plant generates within itself as the poten- tial seat of its perfect colour, it is the sunlight that persuades it to assume the green hue ; and, as a rule, when leaves are spotted, blotched, or striped with yellow, there would seem to be a peculiarity in the constitution of the plant which hinders it from getting ready, as it were. We must not say that it is weak, or in poor health, because in general condition, as regards strength and substance, the variegated plants are usually quite on a par with the full green ones. The solution of the difficulty w^ould seem to be supplied through the help of an analogy. The rule is for the human hair to be dark, either brown or black. Every one knows that there is plenty of the varied hue comprehen- FIG. 43 .— GTMlfOSTACHTUlI VEESCHAFFELTI. sively called “light,” — the people just as strong and hearty, all the same. Plants variegated with yellow are extremely prone to acquire the full green if left to themselves, especially if placed in conditions favourable to its mani- festation ; so that there is some ground, after all, for the assumption that, while yellow-spotted or marbled with white, their vital energy is below par. It is worth remembering at this point that the lovely white sepals of the flowers of the Christmas-rose (^Ilellehorus niger') become green as the spring advances ; and that the petals of many kinds of flowers similarly begin as pure white, and subsequently acquire more or less of a rosy hue, as may be regularly observed in the strawberry. A decorative effect, analogous to that of the crimson in the croton leaves, is produced some- times by the tinting of the veins, the remainder of the leafcontinu- Coloured ing plain green. This is shown ^ems. very pleasingly in a variety of one of the com- mon wild Eng- lish docks, the Bumcx san- guinens, which is cither of a uniform bright green, or most exquisitely laced and netted in every part with blood-colour. The orchids of the East Indian islands which go by the name of A n oe c t o c h i lus have leaves re- sembling rich green or bronzy velvet, em- broidered in every part with threads of gold. Instead of being suffused with special colour, veins are sometimes perfectly translucent, the leaf once again acquiring singular beauty from this apparently unimportant contrivance. To appreciate what a leaf really is, when sufficiently thin to allow of being so dealt with, we should examine it in the way that we examine cathedral windows, which we never do from the street, or the outside, but by once again seeking the inestimable aid of that great interpreter of all that is excellent — God’s glorious sunshine. VIII. THE FIFTH STEP IN SINGING. Hitherto we have spoken of Boh as the central pivot of the scale — the note around 26G THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Avhich the other notes are placed, and from >. ■'vhich they derive their character. Old Modes. But the old Greek and Latin mtisic — indeed, the vernacular music of all countries — made use of other tones of the natural scale, such as Ray, Lah, etc., as pivot tones, which thus stamped their own characteristics upon the music. Nor is it correct to speak of these old “ modes ” of using the scale as extinct. They are still used in places where modern harmony has not found its way, and where melody, chiefly unaccompanied, forms the staple of musical jxirformance. They may be heard in Persia, India and China, and in the highlands of Scotland and of Wales. The question may be asked, how are we to know whether a tune is in the Ray or Lah or ,, any other mode, as the same Old Modes” sgygn sounds will be used in it as recognize . mode ? The answer is, look to the first and last notss, and to any {)auses in the course of the tune, as between the lines of poetry, and notice if any one tone is prominent. Notice especially the tone which is at the distance of five steps above what you think is the mode tone. 'This tone will be its “dominant,” will be related to it as Soh is related to Doli, and will have a powerful in- fluence in deciding the mode. Let us take as an example the following ,,.o „ tune, “Bangor,” a traditional Bangor. Welsh Church, which may still be heard sung as it is written below : — :li f : m 1 r :l|r» :i :1| 1 ;d'.t 1 1 :s|l : :11 :d‘ lr‘ :f‘ 1 r* ;( :11 r> : l.s 1 f :m 1 r : r— It Notice, in this tune, how Ray and its dominant (five notes above), Lah, are prominent. As an example of the Lah mode, let us take ,, the old version of the Scotch JohnAnder- “John Anderson, my Jo!”' son, my Jo . ending is as follows : — KEY C. : 1 1 m : 1 I 1 : s | 1 H These old modes have an historical interest, because mthout understanding them we can- not understand the subject upon which we now enter, the Modern Minor. Very early in the history of harmony the mode Avhich chooses Doh for its key-note was accepted as the most satisfactory. A chief reason for this preference is that the third tone above Doh is separated from it by two whole steps, while the tliird tones above Ray and Lah are only distant a step and a little step. In other words, Doh is a major mode, having a major third above its principal tone, and Lah and Ray are minor modes, having a minor third above their principal tone. Another reason for the establishment of the Doh mode as the key to the scale was that the position of Te^ a little step below 'Doh, was felt to be exceed- ingly satisfactory and convenient in harmony. The Lah and Ray modes, on the contrary, had no such “ leading tone,” but only Soh and Doh, a full tone below. The effect of a minor mode, as a change from the major, was felt, however, to be very pleasing in music, and composers set to work to harmonise a minor mode. For many reasons they selected the mode on Lah,, and rejected the other modes almost entirely. But while the gloomy sound of the Lah mode was capable of beautiful effects in contrast with the bright and clear sound of the major, composers soon found out its defects, not from the melodic point of view, but from the har- monic. They tried to combine the advantages of the major mode with those of the minor, to graft on to the minor improvements which suited their purpose as harmonists. The first of these improvements was the raising of the note below Lah {Soh') so as to form a “ leading tone,” which we call Se. This raising was not invariable, for the old Soh was stiU allowed in certain cases. The raising of Se, however, left an awkward gap, as the student will see by looking at the modulator, between Se and Fah; and as a gap of this sort was the special abhorrence of early harmonists, who liked everything to be smooth and easy to sing, Eah was in its turn raised also, forming a new tone which w^e call Da. Still, how- ever, the use of Da, was not invari- able. Fah even now^ more commonly occurs in the minor mode than Da ; although the same cannot be said of Soh, which is much less frequently met with in the minor than Se. The diagram at the side shows in the left hand column the minor mode, and in the right hand the major key, w^hich has its Do7t at the same pitch as the Lah of the minor. The alternative notes, Soh and Da, are in brackets. The remaining discrepancies are sho wm by the horizontal lines to be at Doh and Fah. This modern minor mode, developed historically from the old mode on Lah, is characterised by pathos and solemnity. Its effect on the mind is howevei influenced by the speed of the music ; when this is rapid the ®Iental effects effect is quaint and even jovial. The alteration of Fah and Soh into Da and 1 m s r f in d— t r 1 d se t (s) (ba) I f m s r f m d MUSIC. 267 Se is, as we have seen, a direct imitation of the major mode, and is designed to make the effect of harmony satisfactory. When Ba and Se are frequently used in a passage, the only distinguishing tone left to define the minor mode is Boh (see the diagram). Musicians who have founded their theory on intervals only, have been led to regard the minor mode as a variation of the major scale. The two _ . scales which are given side by side in the diagram they regard, in short, as one, except that the minor has its third tone flattened and its sixth and seventh notes variable. If the sound of Boh in the right-hand column were G, they would call it the “key of G major,” and the left-hand column the “ key of G minor.*’ We regard this view as historically wrong, as well as practically inconvenient. It leads singers into mistakes through forgetting the modifications of the minor, and it requires them to treat Fah when it occurs in the minor as a tone out of the scale, instead of an integral part of it. When we come to the staff notation we shall find that it supports our view, and that to give the same signature to a major and its tonic minor would introduce great complexity. The Scales which we regard as related are the major, and the minor mode which springs out of its si.xth tone. The dia- gram at the side shows the major key and its relative minor. The use of this term relative minor by musicians expresses the musical fact that the relation of the two scales given at the side is far more intimate than that of the major and its tonic vahior. In actual composition the change to the relatice minor or major is over- whelmingly more frequent than to the tonic minor or major. The stu- dent who regards Boh as the key- I tone of the major, and Lah as the KEY B ' 2 . Lah is G. a* t 1 1 ( 8 ) (ba) f m li centre of the minor, will be in little danger of confusing the two. For purposes of harmony a set of names is used which is common to both major and minor, and the student should now be made acquainted with them. They are given at the side. Soh. being in- DOH — LAH TE — SE Names for tones. Ba and Tonic. Leading note. LAH ) FAHj SOH — ME FAH— RAY ME ) DOHj RAY— TE DOH — LAH Sub-mediant. Dominant. Sub-dominant. Medi.7mt. Supertonic. Tonic. ci dental tones in the minor, have no names. 'J hus it will be seen that lah is the tonic of the minor, and Boh of the major ; Me the mediant of the major and Boh of the minor, etc. The meaning of the names is for the most part obvious. The way in which the fifth tone above the tonic dominates over it will be appreciated when we consider harmony. The mediant is half way between the tonic and dominant, and the siih-mediant is a similar distance below the tonic to that which the mediant is above it. Super- tonic (above tonic) and sub-dominant (under dominant) show the place of these tones, and the leading tome leads by the smooth ascent of a little step to the tonic. In Tonic Sol-fa notation, when the music is in the minor mode, we write after the words “key C,” “key bIZ,” etc. (which show the place of Bob') the words Lah is A,” Lah is G,” etc., to show the place of Lah. For more on this distinction between Key and Mode, -see Mr. Curwen’s “Musical Theory,’' Book II. The following exercises The use of illustrate the use of the minor the Minor Mode mode in music, alternating with illustrated, its relative major, and employing Bah and Se. Ij m :rld :ti — 1 — ;d s :f Iin:r m: — | — :lj Ij :d m ;r d ;mls :f m :rld ;ti Ij: — 1 tzt KEY F. j d :mls :f Ij :dlin :r|d :f | m :r d :r |m— d :r | d ctJli itj \ li:sei Ij :ti [ d :m[s :tid;- KEY A. Lah is F;JJ. |:nij|li 1 :li|sei:sej | li:tj|d ;in | r:djti:— ] — :r|m:r [ d rtjjd :ti | Ip-seijli;! [ d:ti|li:— - | — | 1 1 ' T r "1 ^ 1 — _=] =1— 1 n ^ 2G8 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. KEY A. d:si 1 li:ti^d:r [ d:tijli:nii | bai:sei|li 1 \:—\t :d j | se^ :ba,j3ei:nii | lj:djm:r [ d;-|| These exercises all exemplify change of mode. Notice the imitations between major and minor which they contain. Read the first six notes of the first exercise as tonic, dominant, sub- dominant, etc., of the minor. Now read the next six notes in the same way as major, and they will be found to bear the same names. Seek for other imitations in each of the exercises. Besides changing the mode, we may change simultaneously the key and the mode, which KEY G. produces a delightful effect. The most frequent change of this sort is to the minor mode of the first flat key. The Changes of student who constructs a modu- Mode, lator will see that the new notes required for this, expressed in the old key, are Ta and the sharp of Doh, which we call De. Properly expressed, Ta is the new Fah, and Dc the new Se. The following is a fragment of a tune which passes into the “ first flat minor” : — Sj I : ti I d : tj 1 d : r | or. Si I li : ti I d : ti [ d : r | m ; f I m f. C. m :fd‘ I t : r 1 r ; de ] r : — H : 1 1 1 : se 1 1 H The following passes into the “ first sharp minor ” : — KEY G. : m I r : — ; de | r : — : m 1 f : — ; 1 ] s : — : f | m : re : m j s : — : fe | m : — 1| D t, Lab is B. or, : m I r : de 1 r : m I f : 1 | s ; f | ml : se : 1 ] d’ : t ] 1 H 1 u -p— : B: 1 :=5zi±:^-ir The student must distinguish between the use of Fe, Re, De, and even of Se., as chromatic notes which do not change the key, and transi- tional notes wliich effect a change. It is, however, impossible to do this with certainty without understanding harmony and the habits of chords. As a general rule, the presence of a contradictory note in the same or another part immediately after the accidental (^Doh after De, Soh after Se, etc.) shows there has been no transition. We shall consider transi- tions of two, three, and more removes later on, when treating of the staff notation. VIII. We will now proceed to place before our readers a series of copies, comprising the com- plete alphabet of the small letters. Classified accompanying them by full ex- copies. planations of the method of form- ing each character. These copies are of the the ordinarily termed large-text, as explained in the graduated scale (Fig. 7). The limits of our column naturally preclude us from present- ing copy-slips of the usual length ; but this is not material, as of course the student will repeat the copy across the entire width of his writing- book, and thus render each line complete. , Before commencing to WTite, it will be well FIG. 7— SIZES OP HANDS. that he should read again the analysis of ihe letters in a preceding article. To render the explanations more clear and explicit, that por- tion of each letter contained between the ruled lines in which an o stands will be called the PENMAXSIIIP. :69 “ body ■’ of t’ e letter ; that part which rises above the upper line will be termed the “ top,” and the stroke which descends below the lower line will be designated the ‘-tail”: for instance, o and a have a “ body ” only, d has a “ top ” and ‘‘ body,” and g a “body” and “tail.” This premised, w’e begin with the most simple letters. Class I. — At fig. 8 are shown those letters which depend en- tirely or mainly upon the “pot- hook ” and “hanger,” or top and bot- tom turn. These are i, and u. There is a slight additional feature in the v, but sufficiently pronounced to remove it from being classed with the others. These five are all “body” let- ters. The first, ?, which is the most ele- mentary form in the alphabet, the student has already learned to make, it being merely the short equal dowmstroke gradually tapering off at the bot- tom, and terminating with a fine upturned stroke rising to the cen- tral dotted line. The dot of the i should be carefully made, as a circular lioint in the line of incli- nation of the down stroke — in such position, in fact, that if it were itself continued as a stroke it would coincide with that already made, and turn the i into a kind of short 1. This dot should be made at riG. 8. — BODT LETTEES. FIG. 9— TOP-STKOKE LETTEES. FIG. 10 HG. 11.— iAlL,Ei) LETTEES. the line d as shown, which seems to be a pro- portionate distance from the letter, although some teachers prefer to place it higher. The next letter, m, consists of the top- turn twice with a third stroke hav- ing the top and bottom turn. The hair- stroke at each top commences at the middle dotted line, h, and the bottom turn is brought up to it also. Care should be taken that the down- strokes are kept equi- distant : to ensure this lightly ruled sloping lines may be used for a little while, but all such leading-strings should be relinquished as soon as possible. It is of particular consequence r C: that the upper and lower curves s h o u 1 d have the same width, as it is a very com- mon error to make one narrower than the other. The next letter, n, is, of course, precisely the same as the pre- ceding, with the exception that it dispenses with the stroke, and there- fore calls for no remark. The r is one of those let- ters which exhibit a peculiarity excluding it from strict classifica- tion. It con- si s ts pri- marily of the “ pot- hook,” with the addition of a new element — that, namely, of a fine hair- stroke on the right-hand side, which may be made by bringing the pen upwards diagonally across the downstroke in such manner that it 270 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. starts from the downstroke at the central dotted line, and curves upward in a flowing sweep until it reaches the top line. The pen is then brought downwards with an increased and instantaneous pressure, which is gradually lightened as the pen passes into another graceful oval curved hair-stroke, as shown, ending (if the r is standing alone) at the top line. The next letter, ?/, is composed of the bottom turn, and requires no elucida- tion. Class II. — The second group of letters, ac- cording to the rough classification which we ,, have adopted, is that comprising what may be called the ‘‘ top- ® stroke letters,” — those, namely, M’-hich. while combining varied elements, have yet the common peculiarity of rising above the upper line bounding the body of the o and similar letters. This class includes the I, h, d, h, k, and t (fig. 9). The I may be taken as the typical character, and presents no difficulty to the learner, being in fact simply the straight stroke given in our first lesson, with the addi- tion of a turn at the bottom. This letter is com- menced at the line e, which is half an inch ■above the line c. and the I is therefore twice the length of- the body of an i. The hair-stroke of the bottom turn is brought up to the line -1 u 1 1 1 1 K. ^ . rs— " g- : ^ Val - Ions de THel - ve - ti - e, Ob - jet de mon a- h ^ 1 I ^ •'I ^ .2 - 1 * 1 fx 1 1 ' 1 n , r: las -\f 7 1 1 _ tr ,=±i ^ k. •; L mour ! Sa - lut ! ter - re che -ri -E, Oii ; etc. Words ending in ie would never be met with before a consonant in the body of a poetical line ; before a vowel, however, the case is different, — the e of ie, both in poetry and music, would then blend with the next word : — “ Une value folie^enivrant la raison.” — Boileau. 12 3 4567 8 9 10 11 12 ^ r-^ N— liT-:— 1 ' ^ □ L _J 1 U tf- 1 ?— S' S! ^ J’a - vais ^ ton bon - heur vou - e ma viOv^en ti^ - re ; etc. FBENCH PRONUNCIATION. 275 ieu = a proper diphthong mostly in mono- syllables and their derivatives ; in this diph- thong the sounds i and eu (see § 37 a) are heard : — Dieu, God (dieu) adiev^ farewell (ji-dieu) lieu, spot (lieu) milieu, middle (mi-lieu) lieue, league (lieu) hanlieue, precinct (han-lieu) pieu, stake (pieu) epieu, spear (e-pieii) sieur, sir (sieur') monsieur, Mr. (mo-sieu) In all the above examples eu, with the excep- tion of sieur, has the close sound. In other words, especially in forms derived from verbs, ieu forms a double syllable in verse, but a proper diphthong in prose : — amhitieux,2exxi)oit\ou^{am-hi-si-en^n^ani-hi-si€u) curieux, inquisitive (cu-ri-eu and cu-rieu) inferieur, inferior (in-fe-ri-eur and in-fe-rieur) parieur, better (pa-ri-eur di-eid. pa-rieur) According to rule § 37, giv^to the termina- tion ieux the close sound, and to itur the open sound of eu. ien = a proper nasal diphthong in many words ; the simple vowel i, and the nasal vow'el in are both heard : hien, well ; ckicn, dog; rien, nothing; soutien, support (cf. § 2 Re^n. 3, and § oO). But ancien, lien, patricien, etc., are read an-ci-in, li-in, pa- tri-ci-in in verse, and an-ciin, liin, pa-tri-ciin in prose. io = prop. diph. presenting both sounds « and o in but few instances : pioclie, mattock, and deri- vatives. The greater number of words — as etiole, languid ; jiole, vial ; miochc, urchin, etc. — offer each a prop, diph, in prose, and two syllables in verse. Brioche, bun ; trio, trio, etc., owing to the double articulation, blend i and o less readily in prose than etiole, etc. ion = a prop. diph. in which the sounds of F. i and nasal on are discernible ; espion, spy ; nous etions, we were ; session, session, etc. In many words ion is treated as a double vowel in poetry : — read in prone in verse passion pa-sion pa-si-on nation na-sion na-si-on iu=a d. syll. in wdiich i and blend more or less readily in prose, but never in verse : — read diume Fabiu.s H^raclius sciure in prose diurn Fa-bius He-ra-clius siur' in verse di-ur-ne Fa-bi-us H^ra-cli-us si-u-re oa = a d. syll. in prose as in verse: cloaqve (clo-aTi), sink ; oasis (o-a-sis), oasis ; Moah (mo-aV ) ; load (jo-ad ). In the words toast and toaster (the latter also written taster), taken from the English, the E. pronunciation is retained : tostf, toste. oe = a prop, diph., and sounds like oi (see below) : moelle (moil'), marrow ; moellon (moi- lon), building- stone, and derivatives. These were formerly pronounced mo-el, mo-e-lon. The particle co before a word beginning wdth e produces no diphthong ; in coefficient, coercitif, coexister, pr. co-e. For ce see § 39. oe, oe, oe = d. sylls. : Noel (No-el)', po'eme, poete, cacatoes (po-'em'. po-et', ca-ca-to-es') ; coeternel, goeland, go'elette, go'emon (co-e, go-e). Till recently, all these words were, with the exception of coeternel, spelt with the diuresis. oe=a prop. diph. broader than oi (see below), and may be figured by oud : poUe (m, a w^ed- ding canopy; /. a frying-pan). Derivatives likewise. oeu = an imp. diph. See § 37. oi = a d. syll.: heroique (e-ro-i^), heroical ; Iielo'ise (e-lo-iz'), Heloise. j oi = a prop. diph. in which the sounds ou and j a are closely united ; quack renders this diph. in English : moisi, mildewed, noix (noi), nut, roi, king, etc. (Roide, stiff, and derivatives are more generally read, as also more generally spelt, raide, red'.) Great as the number of words containing this diph- thong is, it was still greater 300 years ago. Then, for instance, the word/ranfais (French) was spelt and pr, like Francois (Francis), and que je 2 }araisse (that I may appear) presented no difference with la paroisse (the parish), A change due to the influence of Catherine j de Medici took place in the sixteenth century. The I sound oi not existing in Italian, the queen and the ! numerous Italians, who accompanied her, found it difficult to pronounce it, and converted it into ai (e) in many words, and especially in verbal terminations. Thus/mnfoi's and queje paroisse were pronounced as if they had been written fran^ais and paraisse. Racine, as evidenced by his preface to the Thebaide, was the first to adapt the spelling to the sound by changing oi into ai in those words which had been affected by the Italian fashion. Voltaire fully adopted this system, j popiilarized it, and this orthography has become known imder his name. The Academie proved obdu- rate for a long time, and it was only in the sixth edition of their Dictionary, published in 1835, that the ortho- graphe de Voltaire was recognised by them. It is difficult to say what law presided over the selection of those words which changed oi into ai. That the verbal termination should have been affected is quite com- prehensible, as the change was consistent with I etymological accuracy. But for the names and ad- I jectives of nations the evolution seems based on I physiological rather than phil®logical grounds. Here j at least is a theory which has been put forward. The ! sound ais being softer and more pleasant to the ear, we take it not only for the name of our own nation, but for the names of those nations that are our nearest neighbours, or for those whom we consider more civilised than the others. To those which are far distant from us in time, as the Carthaginols, the Cretois ; or in place, as the Chinois, the Iroquois ; or to those which popular prejudice r-nakes us consider as more barbarous, such as the Bavarois, the Hongrois, we give I the hard termination which corresponds to the correct I or false notion which we have formed of the roughness j of their manners. It would be an easy matter to mention exceptions bearing on every individual point of this argument, which coincides with the facts in the main only. For such words, however, the learner I who opens most French books printed fifty years ago I has little to guide him in the selection of those nouns I andadjectives where the syllable ot should be pr. ai. It ! is therefore a matter for surprise that a series of French I classics recently brought out in this country should I adhere to this old-fashioned spelling. The motive ] assigned is that the old spelling was retained in pre- I ference to an alteration of the text. An alteration of i whose text? Certainly not Corneille’s, or Racine’s, or Moliere’s ; for their original texts exhibit several other I typographical differences besides that of oi. Such ! editions, good as they are from all other points of view, I needlessly increase the. task of the learner, who “gets up ” a prescribed author out of anything but a love of pseudo-antiquarianism. oin = a prop. diph. in which the sounds 02c and in are thoroughly blending ; see § 50. Groin (a snout), however, presents two syllables, grou-in. oo=a d. syll.: alcool (al-co-ol), alcohol; cooperer (co-o), to co-operate ; zoophyte (zo-o). In Flemish words 00 = 6: as in Vanloo, Waterloo, etc. ou = a d. syll.: Antinous (an-ti-no-us'). ou = an imp. diph. See § 41. 276 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. VIII. The Tides. * The regularly recurring tides, or rising and falling of the level of the sea at any particular place, once in about every thir- Causeofthe ^gen hours, depends upon the attraction of the moon, strength- ened by that of the sun, according to the relative position of these two bodies. The ocean rises, or flows, as it is called, gradually, about six hours ; it remains stationary about a quarter of an hour, it then retires or ebbs during another six hours, to flow again after a brief repose. In order to understand this, we must be famihar with the fact that all the heavenly bodies exercise, within certain Limits, an attractive force on each other, greater in proportion to bulk, but limited by distance and by counter-attractions. Thus, although very nmch smaller than the sun, the influence of the moon on the earth is greater by reason of its proximity. The rise of the ticular part of the earth s surface is caused by the point in question being in the direct hne of the lunar attraction, or of the moon’s meridian — that is, the meridian of the earth which the moon is at that time apparently crossing. As the earth revolves daily on its axis, every part of the globe is brought every twelve hours, or thereabouts, to the moon’s meridian, and there is high water. The action of *the moon’s attraction wiU be best illustrated with the aid of a diagram. The attraction of gravitation has- reference to all matter, solids and fluids, but may be ■ea e expected to produce its greatest Effects of effectupon the liquid form of it, so grava a on. gf mobihty, and yield- ing to the slightest impression. Suppose m the moon, as the force of attraction, varying in power according to distance, it follows that the particles of water at a will be more powerfully acted on by the moon than those at e and /, or than the particles of land at the bottom of the water at h, these being at a greater distance. The waters, therefore, are dra^vn towards the point directly opposite the moon by the force of her attraction, and bulge out, as in the diagram'. Strange as it may at flrst seem, there is also high water at the exactly opposite part of the earth’s surface, the antipodes, at the same time ; but the reason is that the particles of land at c and the earth’s centre E will be more powerfully drawn towards the moon than the waters at d, and recede from them, pro- ducing the same effect as though they receded, or rose up, from the centre of the earth. High water is thus produced at a and d, and as the ocean cannot rise in one place without being correspondingly depressed at another, it is then low water at e and/. In consequence of greater distance, the attrac- tion of the sun is only about one-third of that of the moon. But the two attractions some- times act together, and then high or spring tides are the result ; and sometimes in oppo- sition, and then there are low or neap tides. (We may note here that this use of the word spring has no connexion with the season of the year, but simply means a rise ; and neap is derived from the Anglo-Saxon hnij)ian, to cast down, or cause to fall.) When the moon is either new or at the fuU {a or c in the accom- panying diagram), its influence and that of SPEIXG AXD neap tides. the sun are united ; when at b and d the two actions are in opposite directions. The tidal waves, marking the places on the earth’s surface where high water simultaneously occurs, do not exactly coincide with the meridians of longitude ; waves, for continents and islands, headlands, narrow channels, coral reefs and submarine plateaux, impede the regular tidal flow, and cause con- siderable variations in that respect, and also in the height to which the water rises. A rise of fifty, a hundred, and a hundred and fifty feet are known on some parts of the European, Asiatic, and American coasts, while on the coasts of the islands of the Pacific, the waves having freedom to pass unimpeded over vast expanses of ocean, the rise is seldom more than ten feet. The tides in rivers are caused by the influx of sea-water driving back the water of the stream. Lakes have no tides, owing to their dimensions being so small that the moon’s attraction is equal on every part ; and narrow seas, as the Mediterranean and the Baltic, PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY, 277 undergo very slight changes of level from the same reason, and because their entrances are so contracted that they cannot receive a suffi- cient efflux from the tidal waves of the outlying oceans to raise their surface perceptibly. There is considerable popular exaggeration on the subject of the height of waves. We hear of waves “running mountains Height of The highest ever known waves. have never exceeded forty feet from the bottom of the trough of the sea, or twenty feet above the general level, and waves of half that height are the characteristics of what is genemlly known as a very rough sea. Oceanic waves are long rolling billows ; those of close seas are abrupt and short. Islands and Continents. The volcanic or eruptive forces, which will be more particularly noticed when describing the noes are extinct there is abundant evidence, in the masses of igneous rock and crater-form out- lines, of past activity. In the Mediterranean, Sicily, Stromboli, the Lipari Isles, the Greek islands of Milos and Santorin, and the small Italian islands of Ischia and Procida, are of volcanic origin. In the Atlantic, the Canary Islands, Ascension, St. Helena, and the Azores are of the same formation ; and in the Pacific, the Fiji, Friendly, Society, Sandwich, Ladronc and Norfolk Islands, and the groups of New Guinea, New Britain, New Hebrides, and others, are also of volcanic origin. Sudden in operation, the results of the vol- canic force can be observed, and effects are produced in a few hours equal Sudden in extent to the results of other appearance natural operations spread over and unknown periods. Islands have reappearance, appeared, and some have disappeared almost VARIOUS FORMS OP CORAU. formation of mountain ranges, are active in . adding to the extent of the isl^ds° surface of the earth by the pro- duction of islands, the results of violent upheavals. When exerted beneath con- tinental masses of land, upheavals of the surface are produced, but no extension of area is observable ; when beneath the bed of the sea, the tops of the mountains so formed emerge from the water, forming islands. Many of the islands and island groups of the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian Oceans are of . volcanic origin, and in the Indian orig1^° archipelago alone are more than 900 volcanoes, a large number of which have been active within recent times. It is observed that volcanoes are generally linear in arrangement — a peculiarity espe- cially observable in the ranges of volcanic islands of Eastern Asia. There are more vol- canic islands connected with Europe and Asia than with America, where they are generally continental. In those islands where the volca- as suddenly as they emerged, and accurate observations have been made of the pheno- mena. Two islands of the Cyclades group, in the Grecian archipelago — the Little and the New Kameni — were formed by volcanic agency in 1707 and 1709. New islands were added to the Azores group in 1538, 1587, and 1720 ; and in 1811 an island a mile in circumference, and rising to 300 feet above the sea level, ap- peared off the coast of St. Michael, but gradu- ally subsided, and in a few months afterwards, had disappeared, and there was 500 feet of water at the spot. In 1783 an island was thrown up off the coast of Denmark, and was named Nyoe, or New Island, but soon sank beneath the waters. The Aleutian Islands, the chain connecting Asia and North-western America, are all of volcanic origin, and tw'o were added in 1806 and 1814, both remaining, one having an elevation of more than 2,000 feet. Another volcanic island which had but a brief existence was thrown up in 1831, to the north- east of the coast of Sicily. A column of water 278 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. was seen to rise from the sea like a water-spout, and on its subsiding an island about three miles in circumference remained, to which the names Hotham and Graham Island were vari- ously given. It soon afterwards subsided, and now forms a dangerous shoal. The Verb ^aben {contimied). The Suljjunct'ne Mood. Compound Sentence.^. . Dependent Clauses. Position of the Verb. A SENTENCE is compound when it consists of several divisions or clauses each containing its verb. Thus the following sentence is com- pound : (fr fam ©eftern, h?eil er 3fit airr ham guest' -errn vile aiy'v tsite hatf-te He came yesterday because he time had, for it consists of two clauses. Of these one clausa is independent because it makes a com- plete sense of itself and can therefore stand alone. “He came yesterday” is an independ- ent assertion ; but “because he had time” is a dependent sentence, for it makes no com- plete sense of itself, and must be taken in con- nection with the preceding clause — “ he came yesterday.” Sometimes there are three or four dependent clauses in one sentence ; but there can be only one independent clause, for when two assertions not dependent on each other are joined by the conjunction and they are looked upon as separate sentences. The in- dependent clause in a sentence is called in German or head sentence, and lioii'pt cats each complementary or dependent clause is a 9?eben 0a^ or secondary sentence. nay' -ben satz. With regard to the position of the vert, the or chief clause in a compound sen- tence is to be treated as standing by itself. If it is direct and comes before the subordinate clause or clauses, the verb follows the nomina- tive. If it is inverted — that is, if it does not begin with the nominative, or if the |)auptfa^ comes after the 9?ebcnfa^ — the verb is put before tke nominative. The DECLINED OR CHANGING PART OF THE VERB, IN A SUBORDINATE CLAUSE OR 5?eben= fa^, IS AHVAYS AT THE END. Instances: Independent clause direct. Dependent clause. Verb. Nom. Verb. I. ©r ihirb ed gch?if irann cr 2)?orgcn fommt, he Avill certainly have it, when he airr vierrt ess ge-viss' ha' -ben vann airr morr'gen hommt [comes to-morrow. Independent clause inverted. Dependent clause. Verb. Verb. Notn. II. ©cir© n?irb er e^ \rann er 2)?orgen fommt Dependent clause first. Independent clause following dependent clause. Verb. Nona. III. SBann er SD^orgen fommt, mirb er e^ Thus the student has only to remember that in the independent clause the verb is always next to the nominative (after it when there is inversion of words or clauses), while in a dependent clause the place of the verb is at THE END. Sometimes there is an ellipsis — that is, a word such as if is left out ; then the verb comes first instead of last: icb ' aebabt/' had I had time, instead of iSenn iA 1 3eit ^ebabt bcitte. I These rules will be found applied in the ! following sentences, in which the subjunctive ; mood of betbeh is treated, together with some miscellaneous sentences. — It must be remem- bered, moreover, that the subjunctive and the j conditional are identical in form. Thus the j English “ I should have it” may be expressed by miirbe (conditional), or by 3(b bhttc (subjunctive imperfect), and “ I should have had it” by 3cb miirbe gebabt baben (second conditional), or 3cb b^tt^ gebabt (subjunctive pluperfect). ©r b^tte ©tiicf gebabt menn er airr hetf -te glueck ge-hapt' nvenn airr fiice ^ebabt battc. -^atte id) niebt ein 55udb ge-hapt' hetf-te hetf-te ich nicht ine booch j gebabt, miirbe teb 3)tube gebabt baben. ge-hapd vuer'-de ich nnue'-e ge-hapt' ha-ben ©r fagt, baf er Slumen babe. Sir airr zaacht dass airr bloo'-men ha' -be veerr miirben .^artoffetn baben, menn mir 3^egcn vtier' -den har-tof -feln ha' -ben, vennvAcrr ray' -gen batten, -fatten mir Cfl^minb fo miirben, het'-ten het' -ten vierr osst'-vint zo rue'd -den mir aucb 0^nee baben. ©r fagt mir vierr owch shnay ha' -ben airr saaeht nieerr baf er Sunder babe. Dap er oft Durfl dass e-rr hung'-gcr ha' -be dass airr offt durr.st bat meip icb. 0ie murben ^pfel unb hat viee ich zee vueV-den aep'-fel unt 55irnen gebabt baben, menn fie einen bcerr'-nen ge-hapt' ha' -ben venn zee i'-nen ©arten gepabt batten, -fatten 0ie ^ruebte garr'-ten ge-hapt' het'-ten hat' -ten zee fruech'-te in 3bifm ©arten? |)citten 0ie ©lucf in eerr'-evi garr'-ten het'-ten zee gluech obne gfeip? Db er eine ,^ub gefeben bati^/ oh'-ne fiice op airr i'-ne ku ge-zay'-en hetf-te meip icb niebt. Sa^ i^ babe meip icb; vice ich nicht va.'ss ich hat -be 'dee ich ; ma^ icb batte meip icb niebt. ©in vass ich het'-tc vice ich nicht ine GERMAN. 279 ^eutf(^)e^ 0pnc^tt)ort fagt: ©in |)ab’ ic^ doit'-shes sjmch'-vorrt zaaclit : ine hah' ich tf^ gwei |)dtt ic^) Sir njerben ist tsvi hctt' ich vain-t veer r vairr' -den ^ferPe ge|)abt ^aben. Sir it^iirben pfairr'-dege-hajA' ha' -ben veerr vuerr'-den me^t Dc|)fen ge^abt i)aben n)enn n?ir mel;r Qnairr ox'-en ge-liapt! ha' -hen venn veerr mairr gutter fiir fie bdtten. Sir fjoffen bap foot' -terrfucr zee het' -ten veerr hof-fen dass imr ba^ S^ergnugen t;aben tr»erben. |)dtte veerr dass fer-gnue' -gen ha' -hen vairr' -den het‘-te 3^r S^effe ba^ sefcigi/ ttjurbe ic^ bie earr nef -fe dass ge-zaacht', vuer'-de ich dee (Sier gepabt eye' -er ge-hapt' ha' -hen dass het'-te ich nee gefagt. ttjiirbe bie ©ebulb nie ge-zaacht' ich vuer'-de dee ge-duld' nee gei)abt i)aben. ge-hapt' ha' -hen. VOCABULARY. Singular. bas ©tiicf, dass glueek success,* I fortune, v luck ) Per gleip, industry dare dice bie 9)?ube,“ the trouble, dee inue' -e pains Plural. none none bie i3}?it^en dec uLue'-en bie .J^artoffel,® the potato dee harr-tof'-fel ber 3?egen, the rain dare ray' -gen ber Dft^tbinb/ the east dare osst'-vint wind ber 0ci)nee/ the snow dare shncy ber |)unger, the hunger dare hung'-ger ber ©urjl, the thirst dare durrst bie gru^pt, the fruit deefrncht bie .Jlut;, the cow dee hoo Sieutfc^ (adjective), German \hertt; (adjective), worth vairrt ba^ 0pric^ihort, the pro- class sprich -vorrt [verb ber Dct)fe/ the ox dare ox' -e baiJ gutter/ the food dass foot'-ttr ber jljeffe, the nephew dare nef-fe ba^ Si, the egg dass eye bie totoffelu dee karr-tof' -feln bie 9?egen dee ray' -gen bie Sinbe dee vin' -de bie griic^te dee frucht'-e bie dee liue'-e bie 0pricptt)orter dee sjjrich' - toerrt-er bie Dcf)fen dee ox! -en bie 9?effen dee nef-fen bie Sier dee eye' -er Infinitive. 0agen, to say. zaa'-chen Siffen,® to know. Vis' -sen 0eben, to see. zay'-en VERBS. Pres. Indieative. Imperfect. 3cb fage, fagte, ich zaache zaach'-te I say said nieif , IhUfte, ich vice vusste I knew knew fe^e, fat), ich zay'-e zah I see saw Past Participle. gefagt, ge-zaacht! said. gett)Upt, ge-vusst' known. gefefjeu, ge-zay'-en seen. OBSERVATION’S. * Many words signifying qualities or conditions have no plural in Germany. We cannot talk of the fortunes of a man, as in English. “ The nlural Miihen is seldom msed. The word 2Iiih»ehl'hf]keiten is generally used for toils or labours, mue'-zav-lich-kei'-ten os D>.e Miihseh ligkeif en des the toils of life, die mue'-zay-lich-ki'-ten des lay'b^ns ® The word Erd-Apfel (earth-apple) is also used in Germany for potato, which in Saxony is even called Erd-birne (earth-pear). “ There is, literally speakine, only one Oxt-wind, hut we can say die Oeetiichen IFinde, — die Siidllchen Win.de — the eastern and the southern winds. " So'mse is never, and Eegen seldom, used in the plural. ® The English names of animals and things relating to agriculture and pasture are taken from the German. The names given to the flesh of the Anglo-Saxon ox, sheep, swine, calf— namely, beef, mutton, pork, and veal— are from the Norman-French. Readers of Scott’s “Ivanhoe” will remember the indignant growl of Gurth, the swineherd, at the metamorphosis of the Saxon ox into “ Monsieur le Bceuf, a fiery French gallant.” ’ Pronounced as the English word “ foot.” ® The German tciseen is found in the old English expressions, “We wot not what is become of him,” “ Wist ye not that I must be about my Father’s busi- ness P ” English Version for correcting the foregoing Study and for re-translation into German . — He would have had success if he had had industry. (Notiee the form of the subjunctive used for the conditional “ n'ould have."') Had I not had a book, I should have had trouble. He says that he ,has flowers. We should have potatoes, if we had rain. If we had (an) east wind we should also have snow. He tells me that he is hungry (to have hunger, a German idiom, like the French avoir f aim"). That he is often thirsty (has thirst) I know. They would have had apples and pears, if they had had a garden. Had you fruit in your gar- den ? (garden fruit is often dcfned in Geimnan as ba^ Obfl (Ohpst), and the orchard is called ber Obflgarten). Would you have fortune without industry ? If he would have seen my son I do not know (know I not). What I have I know; what I should have, I do not know. A German proverb says : ” A have-I is worth two had-I’s.” We shall have had horses. We should have had more oxen, if we had more food for them. We hope that we shall bave the pleasure. If your nephew had 280 THE UXIVERSAL IXSTRUCTOR. said that, I should have had the eggs. That, I should never have said. I should never have had the patience. Note . — In retranslating the above sentences into German, special attention should be paid to the posi- tion of the verb, in the Hauptsatz or chief clause, and the Nebensatz or subordinate clause. IX. The Reign of the Empeuor Charles V. Part I. — continued. The treaty of Madrid settled nothing. Francis was burning to avenge the humiliation he had en- dured, and longed for an oppo r t unity to renew the war. He had not long to wait for this. Clement VII. was as little inclined to see a Spanish as a French sovereignty established in Italy ; and accordingly released tlic French king from the oath that bound him to carry out the treaty of Madrid ; and presently was formed between Clement and Francis, ^\'ith the co-operation of Henry VIII. of England, Maxi- m i 1 i a n Sforza of Milan, and the r e- public of Venice, the “Holy League,” to liberate Italy from the Spanish yoke. At the same time the parlia m ent of Paris re- pudiat e d the cession of B u r - gundy to Charles, as extorted by compulsion, and beyond the power of the king to grant; and thus the war was renewed, under circum- stances of increased exasperation. For the Lutheran movement had roused the zeal of Germany, and the announcement that the new army for which the recruiting drams of George of Frandsberg were beating on every high road was to be led against the pope, brought thousands of Lutherans to the banners of the stalwart leader; who soon led a great army across the Alps to join the forces of that royal traitor, the Constable de Bourbon. The fol- lowers of both chiefs formed a mercenary army, undisciplined and impatient of control, clamouring for money and eager for spoil. The task of keeping such an armed rabble in order was too much for Frundsberg ; annoyance and vexation produced a fit of apoplexy, tha,t terminated his life. Money was wanting to pay the troops, who clamorously demanded to be led to Rome; and Bourbon was obliged to let them have their ^0°^® taken by wull. The Gth of May, 1.527, is memorable as the day on which May 6, 1527. a horde of foreign mercenaries scaled the walls of the imperial city of the Tiber ; and the pope, Clement, awaiting in vain in the castle of St. Angelo the advent of the army that was to march to his relief, heard with indignation h 0 w t h c heretical strangers had kindled their watch- fires in the courts of the Vatican, and how they parodied with blasphemous mummeries the most sacred ceremonies of the Church ; while plunder and riot and debauchery filled the streets and _ habitations of the holy city. The booty amassed by the German and Span- ish Lanz- itne elite is estimated at above a million du- cats ; but the victory was pur- chased with the life of the leader Bourbon , who was killed in the assault. Drunkenness, misrule, and sanguinary quarrels among themselves, with numerous desertions of the more prudent, who wished to carry home their plunder speedily, reduced the imperial force to half its former numbers; and the burden of the war weighed hea-vfily on the nations compelled to harbour and support the ill-governed hordes. BKiiilEX. MAGDEBUKG. HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 281 Meanwhile Francis, at first successful in Upper Italy, had been weakened by the defection of the Genoese Doge Andreas Doria, who went over to the side of the emperor. His attempt to conquer the kingdom of Naples failed utterly, and half his army perished by the plague, or by the casualties of a disastrous retreat. Thus both sides had reason to desire peace; and by the mediation of the mother of Francis and ,, . ^ the aunt of Charles the treaty of Cambray, appropriately named CaSy, 1529. Peace,” was brought about. Charles gave up Milan, but kept Burgundy ; and for the liberation of his two sons he paid a ransom of two millions of crowns. Pope Clement, also, who had fled from Eome, saw in the rapid progress of Lutheranism the strongest possible reason for reconcihation with a potentate who was pledged of Tunis, the overthrow of the piratical Hayraddin Barbarossa, and the liberation of twenty thousand Christian captives. In the next year, after the death of Ifrancis Sforza of Milan, the French king renewed his pretensions to Milan, invaded Piedmont, and even made an alliance with the Turks against his rival Charles V., who retorted by invading Provence with a large army, but failed to capture Marseilles. Through the intervention of the new pope, Paul III., this third war between Charles and Francis was terminated by the ten years’ truce of Nizza, each of the com- petitors keeping what he held. The two monarchs met soon after, Truce^of Nizza, on fi-iendly terms ; and Charles even visited his chivalrous rival in Paris on his way to the Netherlands. 1IESSII7A. to oppose the Eeformation, and who could more- over protect him in Italy. Accordingly, on receiving Charles’s promise to extirpate heresy in Germany, and to punish the insubordinate republic of Florence, Clement crowned Charles at Bologna as “ Eoman Emperor,” Florence was deprived of its republican government ; and the diet of Augsburg was announced, to restore in Germany the authority of the old Church. Charles was now triumphant ; and the in- creased power of the Hapsburg house was a subject of just apprehension to Europe. Clement VII, was drawn away from Charles, partly through displeasure at the Emperor’s importunity for the meeting of a Church council that threatened to diminish the papal authority, partly by jealousy of his power in Italy; aiid associated himself wfith Francis I., who cherished the hope of regaining Milan. In 1535 Charles earned great glory by the capture But the truce of Nizza was destined to be broken. The emperor was determined to sup- press the power of the Turks, who threatened Hungary, and at the same time to put down the corsairs of Algiers, as he had done those of Tunis ; and the opportunity thus afforded was too tempting for Francis to withstand. He took advantage of an unfavourable juncture in the affairs of Charles to declare war against him for the fourth time ; his allies on this occasion being the Sultan and the Duke of Cleves, while Charles was once more supported by England. But the emperor had better fortune against Francis than against the corsairs. He invaded Champagne, and threatened the capital itself. Thereupon Francis signed the treaty of Crespy, by which he agreed to m f abandon all his conquests ; and „ from thenceforth the French cl aim to Milan was only a memory of a dead hope. 282 TUE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Three years afterwards Francis died. Ex- cesses and self-indulgence had shortened his days. He was a brilliant rather than a wise or a useful king. He dazzled France by his victory of Marignano, and dis- Deathof tracted Europe by his contests TrancisL, Charles V. ; but despotism, His character. petulance were con- tinually leading him astray, and his long rule contributed little to strengthen or. consolidate Ills country. Eanke, the German historian, says of him, “ Francis I. loved enjoyment. Erilliant in the lofty station to which he was born, adored by the people, he wished to pass his life in pleasure, faring sumptuously every day, in an uninterrupted, rapid, full employ- ment of all his energies. His life was a con- tinual combat, a political and military struggle.” Part II.— Charles V. and the Protestant Princes. The conclusion of this long contest against France at length left the emperor free to fol- low out his cherished schemes with regard to Germany — the extirpation, namely, of the Lu- theran heresy, and the re-establishment of the imperial authority, which had been wofully contracted and lessened. The first step that excited general alarm among the Protestants was the summoning of a general Church council by Pope Paul III., at Trent, in The Coxincil Tyrol, at the reiterated requests of the emperor. The Protestants ' ’ knew well that their principles would certainly be condemned by a council that met under such influences. They accordingly refused o send representatives to Trent, and w^ere importunate for a German council. There- upon the emperor, in secret league vuth the pope, from whom he received large sums of money, brought together a great army of mercenaries, from Italy, Germany, and the Netherlands. And now, as formerly in his war against France, fortune threw into the emperor’s way an ambitious, unscrupulous man, ready to lead the mercenary army of Charles against his own friends and countrymen. This time it was the Duke Maurice of Saxony, the repre- Maurice of sentative of the Albertine line, who ( 159 ^ 1553 ) induced by jealousy and ill- will to his cousin the Elector John Frederick, the head of the Eraestine line, to secede from the Smalkaldic league. It was at the diet of Katisbon, in 1546 — the same year that witnessed the close of Luther’s wonderful life — that Maurice, moved by ambition and bribed with the promise of imperial favour and protection, and pf the increase of his dominions, turned his back upon his friends and forsook his creed, and promised obedience to the emperor and to the council of Trent. A threatening and evasive answer to a direct inquiry as to the object of the emperor’s arma- ments at length aroused fear and suspicion in the members of the league of Smalkald. The Protestant princes, on their side, assembled forty thousand men ; but they had no suspicion of the treason of Maurice or of the co-operation of the Dukes of Bavaria and Austria with Charles. Indeed, John Frederick had entrusted to the traitor Maurice the management of the electoral territory, after Charles had, on his own authority, outlawed the Elector of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse for contumacy in the matter of the Council of Trent. The experienced and energetic Sebastian Schartlin, the leader of the army of the Protestant league, proposed to march suddenly on Piatisbon, where the emperor was present with a small force. But he was outvoted at the council of war ; and his further adrice, to attack the emperor before the arrival of Charles’s Italian and Spanish auxiliaries, was rejected vuth equal folly and indecision. When Charles had taken up a strong position at Ingolstadt, and found him- self surrounded by ample forces, he threw off the mask, assumed the offensive, and invaded Swabia, Now also Maurice, having completed his bargain with the emperor, who promised him the electoral title and the greater part of Ills cousin’s territory, appeared openly as an enemy of the Protestants, entered the electorate, and took town after town. Tlien John Frederick hastened home to defend his possessions. But discouragement and want spread rapidly through the Smalkaldic army ; the towns of North Germany would give no further help ; the mercenary soldiers deserted in numbers, and the Smalkaldic army melted away. The towns were also alarmed for their freedom and privi- leges, and w'ere in general glad to purchase pardon from the emperor by unconditional submission, the de- livering up of artillery and warlike stores, and the payment of large fines. Even Augsburg, so strongly fortified and so well victualled that Schartlin swore that he could hold it against the emperor “ for a year and a day,” until Protestant Germany had time to arm afresh, followed the example of submission already set by Ulm, Esslingen, and many smaller towns. The old Duke Ulric of Wurtemberg submitted. The venerable Elector Herman of Gologne abdicated, and was succeeded by a Eomanist, wdio hastened to restore the mass. All Southern Germany submitted to the emperor ; and Schartlin, in disgust, entered the service of France. But on the Elbe the Elector John Frederick had been successful against his traitorous cousin, whom in a short time he reduced to great straits. The Protestant spirit awoke in Bohemia, Lusatia, Silesia. Everywhere indig- nation cried out loudly against the Austrian rule, and France and England were ready to help the new rising ; but John Frederick let the golden opportunity go by. Maurice and Ferdinand of Austria implored the emperor to come to their aid ; Charles responded to the appeal by appearing suddenly with an army of 27,000 men. John Frederick had not time to take refuge, as he intended, in the strongly fortified town of Wittenberg. On the 24th of April he was sur- Battle of prised by the emperor at Miihl- berg, on the Lochau heath, tho- protJsttnts! roughly beaten,and taken prisoner; 24, 1547. whereupon he was condemned to death, as guilty of high treason. The em- ARITHMETIC. 283 peror did not, however, carry the sentence into execution against the great champion of tne Protestant party. Indeed, it is doubtful if he ever intended to do so ; for Charles, though a crafty and somewhat cold-hearted man, and not scrupulous as to the means he employed, was not cruel. By the capitulation of Witten- berg, the sentence was commuted to perpetual imprisonment, on three conditions : the sur- render of the fortresses of John Frederick to the emperor ; the transfer of John Frederick’s territory and of the electoral dignity to Maurice ; and submission to the decrees of the Council of Trent. With this third condition, however, the captive duke steadfastly refused to comply. Thus the electorate passed from the Albertine to the Ernestine line in Saxony. Various smaller principalities, such as Saxe- Coburg and Saxe- Weimar, were set up from the spoil of the unfortunate elector’s dominions, to provide for his sons and brothers. I’he blow seemed final, and the emperor’s triumph appeared complete. The only influ- ential leader who remained on Submission the Protestant side was Philip, of Philip the landgrave of Hesse ; and through ^of the good offices of Maurice, the June 19 , 1547 . elector of Saxony, and of Joachim of Brandenburg, Philip was induced, on the strength of a promise that submission would procure entire and free im- munity, to seek the emperor in his camp at Halle, am.l beg pardon on his knees. He was graciously received, and was invited to a ban- quet by Duke Alba, Charles’s confidant ; but here he was treacherously arrested, and when the startled electors importuned the emperor to set free the prisoner so iniquitously seized, Charles had the effrontery to declare that he had simply pledged his word not to keep the landgrave in perpetual imprisonment. Maurice, who was the son-in-law of Philip of Hesse, and had used all his influence to bring about the accommodation between the betrayed land- grave and his master, was deeply offended at the treachery of Charles, by which he con- sidered his own honour compromised ; and in secret he meditated a revenge which brought stern and sharp punishment on the emperor's head, — a punishment comprising nothing less than the overthrow of the cherished plan for which he had been working with indefatigable perseverance and untiring and vigilant industry for more than thirty years. But for the time the emperor’s affairs pros- pered. The great cities of Bavaria submitted to him unconditionally. Prague and other Bohemian towns fol- lowed their example, and through- grea ci ’es. Southern Germiiny Protes- tantism seemed crushed. But Bremen and other towns in North Germany showed a very different spirit. Here the reforming zeal burned steadily as ever ; and Magdeburg, the Rochelle of Germany, though placed under the ban of the empire, continued to rear its head as a city of refuge, the Patmos of the numerous clergymen who — with a noble disregard of self-interest — had left their houses and lands and possessions for conscience’ sake. X. Reduction {continued'). In some examples in reduction we are obliged to make use of both rules. Example : Find how many pounds, shillings, and pence there are in 13.5 half-crowns. 135 There are 30 pence in half a 30 crown ; to find the number of pence 12)4050 pence in 135 half-crowns, we multiply 135 by 30. This gives 4050 20)337^. ^d. pence ; and now applying the second rule we find that 4050 £16 17s. pence = £16 17s. 6^7. Ans. £16 17s. 6^7. Example : Find how many pounds and shil- lings there are in 60 guineas and 7 5 shillings. 60 guineas = 21 X 60s. = 1260s. 60 guineas -j- 75s. = 1260 + 75s. = 133.5s. Now apply the second rule to reduce 1335s. to pounds. 20)1335 66 —15 20 into 1335 goes 66 times, and 15 over. 60 guineas and 75 shillings are equal to £66 15s. Exercises. 1, How many pounds, shillings, and pence are there in 563 half-crowns? and how many fourpences in 231 half-sovereigns? Answer : £70 7s. 6<7 ; 6930. 2. A has £54 10s. 6<7. in his purse, and B has 762^7. in his. A now gives B £4 10s, %d. Which of the two has now the more, and by how much ? Ans. A has £45 9s. 6(7. more than B. N.B. — The rules and the reasoning we have employed about reduction of money are equally applicable to all concrete quantities expressed by means of different denominations ; and the student who knows the tables of weights and I measures can easily make for himself examples in reduction of these quantities. We shall have plenty of such examples in later chapters ; but it is easier for the learner to understand the methods of reduction, compound addition, etc., if we confine our illustrations to those quantities with which he is most familiar. The methods and the reason of them, once grasped, can be applied with ease to every kind of quantity. This is our reason for going so very fully into these elementary operations ; for if the student thoroughly grasps them and makes them his owm, the rest of arithmetic will be easily built up on this solid foundation. Compound Addition Is the process of adding together two or more compound quantities of the same kind. For example : Add together £3 10^. 4(7. and £17 6^. 5(7. It is clear that the whole sum will be found by adding the separate pa.ds. 284 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Now if we add the pence, we have hd. + id. = M. Adding the shillings, we have 6^. + IO 5 . = I 65 . ; and finally adding the pounds, we have £17 + £3 = £20. Thus we see the required sum is £20 16^. ^d. The process might be written thus : — £ .9. d. 3 10 4 17 6 6 20 16 9 Let us take another example : Add together £5 175. M. and £9 85 . ^d. £ 5 . d. Sd. + 6^7. = lid. = 012 175.+ 85 . = 2o5. = 15 0 £5 + £9 =£14 =14 0 0 whole sum =15 6 2 Or writing them thus : Adding the pence, we get lid., £ 5 . d. which is the same as I 5 . 2d. ; 5 17 8 write down 2 under the pence, 9 8 6 and carry 1 to the shillings : 1 + 8 + 175. = 265 . = £1 65 . 15 6 2 put down 6 under the shil- lings, and carry 1 to the pounds : £1 + 9 + 5 = £15. It will be seen that we have in fact been using the following rule for compound addi- tion : — 1. Write the quantities under one another, so that those of the same denomination may be under each other in the same column. 2. Add together the numbers of the lowest denomination, and find by reduction how many of the next higher denomination are contained in this sum. Set down the remainder, if there be any ; carry the quotient, and add it to the next column. 3. Proceed in this way with all the columns successively. JVofe. — It is clear we can only add together quantities of the same kind^ for it would be absurd to talk, for in- stance, of adding a number of pounds, sliillings, and pence to so many miles or hours or tons. Example 1 ; Add together the following : — I Wesay9^7.+2<7. + 5t7. = 16f7. = l5.4t7. 9^9 set down id., carry I 5 . ^ ^ l5. + 135. + 175. = 315. = £1 II 5 . set down 11 5 ., carry £1. ^11 , £1+2 + 3 = £6. set down £6. Example 2 : £ 5 . d. 1 7 5f 2 3 7i 8 6 0 | 0 0 11 11 18 Of There are 7 farthings, i.e., l%d. set down +7., and carry 1. 1+ 11 + 7 + bd = 2id. = 25.0<7. set down 0, carry 2. 2 + 6 + 3 + 75. = 185. = £0 185. .*. set down 18, carry 0. £8 + 2 + 1 = £ 11 . Exercises. 1. Add together («) Id., \d., |<7.; (7>) 6<7., Id., 11<7.; (c) l\d., %\d., llf<7. 2. Add together(a)l5. 6^<7., 35. l\d., 155. 8|<7.; (7>) 175. M., 125. \\d., IO 5 . ; (c) 6ft7., I 5 . Ud., 195. 2^7. 3. Perform the following additions : — 5 . d. 5 . d. £ 5 . d. 1 3 15 1 17 6 2 6f 17 6| 3 10 17 9*- 8 9 17 17 7 4 0 13 Oi 54 0 3 £ 5 . d. £ 5. d. 63 8 H 72 15 9 10 18 7| 153 12 8 16 8 9 956 17 2 154 0 Oh - 11 18 3 4. Perform the following additions : — £ 5 . (a) 120 19 14 2 35 3 96 3 6 11 18 19 1162 13 d. & s. d. £ 5 . a. 61 (5)1192 13 10^ (c)56 3 2 1 5631 14 2| 497 6 513 2 1 3 16 9 4| 167 14 6 1 2 11 3| 13 2 3^ 43 19 6i 2» 189 10 5| 115 4 31 9 175 3 8 49 6 b'^ 6 s. d. £ 5. d. (d) 56 3 51 (e) 514 6 5 (/) 8 19 61 89 12 7 7 3 4f 36 15 11 8 19 6 24 16 3 5 3 4 19 2 10 £ 5 . d. 21 5 6 130 17 84 29 6 4 14 13 2i 1 3 0 5. On Hospital Sunday the following coins were found on the plate after the collection : — 18 florins, 23 half-crowns, 16 crowns, 21 half- sovereigns, 15 sovereigns, 10 five-pound notes, 100 threepences, 200 sixpences, and 250 pence. How much did the collection amount to ? 6. A furniture dealer buys 3 chairs at 7s. each ; a piece of carpet for Sbs. 6d. ; a table for £7 IO 5 . 9d. ; and chest of drawers for £3 125. 2d. For how much must he sell the wdiole that he may gain 195. Ilr7. on the transaction ? A fis?ve7's : 1. (a) 2id. ; (5) 2s. ; (c) 2s. 3+7. 2. (ft) £1 05. lOH; (5) £1 195. bh^d. ; (1. Declension of Adjectives of Three | Terminations. ; 1. Bonus, good. Singular. j Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. N. bonus bona bonum V. bone bona bonum A. bonum bonam bonum G. boni bonae boni D. bono bonae bono A. bono bona Plural. bono N. boni bonae bona V. boni bonae bona A. bonos bonas bona G. bonorum bonarum bonorum D. bonis bonis bonis A. bonis bonis bonis Adjectives declined like bonus, as above : — | Albus, white; altus, high or deep; aptus, | fit; clarus, bright; earns, dear; dignus, j worthy ; duriis, hard ; gratus, pleasing ; Icetus, 1 joyful; lentus, slow; niagnus, great; parvus, little ; malus, bad ; sanctus, holy or sacred ; and verus, true and real. 2. Tener, tender. Singular. Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. N. tener tenera tenerum V. tener tenera tenerum A. tenerum teneram tenerum G. teneri teneras teneri D. tenero tenerae tenero A. tenero tenera Plural. tenero N. teneri tenerae tenera V. teneri tenerae tenera A. teneros teneras tenera G. tenerorum tenerarum tenerorum D. teneris teneris teneris A. teneris teneris teneris Adjectives declined like tener, as above : — Asper, rough ; aliger, winged ; cceter, the rgst or remaining ; exter, external or foreign ; liber, free; miser, wretched; ignifer, fire- bringing ; prosper, fortunate ; lacer, torn ; macer, lean ; corniger, horn-bearing. 3. Ater, black (dark and dismal). Singular. Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. N. ater atra atrum V. ater atra atrum A. atrum atram atrum G. atri atrae atri D. atro atrw atro A. atro atra atro Plural. N. atri atrae atra V. atri atrae atra A. atros atras atra G. atrorum atrarum atrorum D. atris atris atris A. atris atris atris Adjectives declined like ater (as above) : — Niger, black (beautiful and brilliant) ; ceger, sick ; creber, frequent ; impiger, active ; integer, entire ; pulcher, fair ; ruber, red; sacer, sacred ; sinister, unlucky ; teter, foul. Mark that dexter, right-handed, or propitious, is declined both like ater and tener, as it makes dexter, era and tra, erum and trum, ■ 4. Acer, sharp. ' Singular. Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. N. acer acris acre V. acer acris acre A. acrem acrem acre G. acris acris acris D. acri acri acri A. acri acri Plural. acri N. acres acres acria V. acres acres acria A. acres acres acria G. acrium acrium acrium D. acribus acribus acribus A. acribus acribus acribus GEOLOGY. 287 Plural. Alacer cris ere cheerful Mas. Fern. Neuter. Campester tris tre on a plain ! N. felices felicia Celeber bris bre frequented or famous V. felices felicia Celer eris ere swift A. felices felicia Equester tris tre equestrian G. felicium Paluster tris tre marshy D. felicibus Pedester tris tre pedestrian A. felicibus Puter tris tre rotten Saluber bris bre salubrious Silvester tris tre woody Terrester tris tre earthly Volucer cris ere swift B. Declension of Adjectives of Two Terminations. 1. Teistis, sad. Singular. a. N. Mas. Fern. Neuter. tristis triste V. tristis triste A. t ristem triste G. tristis V D. tristi A. tristi j Plural. N. tristes tristia V. tristes tristia A. tristes tristia G. tristium D. tristibus ' A. tristibus Adjectives declined like tristis, as above : — Brevis, short ; dulcis, sweet ; fortis. strong or brave ; mollis, soft ; huniilis, low ; nohilis, noble ; jjinguis, fat ; utilis, useful : suavis, sweet; turj)is, base ; omnis, all. 2. Melior, better. Adjectives declined Ales itis Atrox Capax Decens Diligens tis Dives itis Fallax Ferox In gens Mendax acis Nocens tis Pauper eris Prudens tis Eecens tis Sapiens tis Simplex icis Tenax acis Velox ocis ocis acis tis acis ocis tis like felix : — winged atrocious capacious becoming ; diligent rich fallacious ferocious great lying hurtful poor prudent fresh wise simple tenacious or persistent swift VIII. Dei^udation {continued'). Singular. Mas. Fern. Neuter. N. melior melius V. melior melius A. meliorem melius G. melioris D. meliori A. meliore or -i Plural. N. meliores meliora V. meliores meliora A. meliores meliora G. meliorum D. melioribus A. melioribus Adjectives declined like melior, as above ; — Altior, higher ; hrevior, shorter ; clarior, brighter ; hmnilior, lower ; levior. lighter ; mollior, softer ; nohilior, more noble ; gplenior, fuller ; sanctior, holier ; similior, more like ; turpior, baser; tutior. safer, utilior. move useful ; verior, more time ; vilior, more vile or cheap. C. Adjectives of one terminat'wn, as Felix, ^Tpy •— Singular. Mas. Fern. Neuter. N. felix V. felix A. felicem felix G. . felicis D. feiici A. feiici (rarely e) The gradual dissolution of limestones by the action of water charged with carbonic acid may be taken as a type of the numerous chemical changes pro- ^decomposition duced by rain on rocks generally. ® In the igneous and other crys- talline rocks these changes are more compli- cated, and the process is a slower one ; but they all yield in greater or less degree, and? finally break up to furnish a surface soil and contribute to the matter borne away to the ocean. We have already referred incidentally to the decomposing granite of Cornwall and elsewhere as furnishing the kaolin or fine china clay, used so exten sively in the manu- facture of porcelain ; and to some such source — that is, to the decomposition and breaking up of crystalline rocks — we must trace every description of clay with which we are ac- quainted. Clay strata of one age may. it is true, be derived immediately from similar beds of older date ; but no geologist doubts that at some period or other the clay was obtained from the decomposition of igneous rocks. Frost is a powerful agent in breaking up rocks and thus assisting in the general levelling of the dry land. All crystalline rocks expand under the influence of the sun’s rays, and contract as they cool ; but the minerals of which they are composed do not expand and contract equally. They are therefore gradually loosened ; and if there were no rairdall whatever, such rocks 288 THE UNIVEItSAL INSTRUCTOR. exposed to the extremes of temperature would gradually break down into sand ; but this process is greatly assisted by rain. Everybody knows that water expands when it is cooled to within a few degrees of freezing point, and that ice occupies more space than the water did in its liquid state. When, therefore, water which has soaked into the crevices and fissures of a rock, filling up all the minute pores and saturating it for some distance from the surface, l^ecomes frozen, it exerts a great pressure, the tendency of which is to break it up. Some- times huge masses are detached, which come tumbling down fi’om the mountain-top — some- times smaller fragments fly off. Still more constantly a large extent of surface becomes imperceptibly affected and brought one degree nearer to general disintegration. In mountainous regions where glaciers are level of the sea, and the waters of the ocean spread themselves over the entire surface of the globe. Many attempts have been made to calculate the time re- Denudation as quired to effect this, but the pro- ^ blem is too complicated to admit ^periods, of a satisfactory solution. In a valuable paper read before the Royal Society, Professor Haughton observes ;* “The following table contains estimates of the number of years required by the several rivers to scrape off one foot from their respective rain basins, and carry the materials to the sea, where it is spread out on the sea bottoms by ocean currents. The figures were obtained by carefully measuring at fi-equent intervals the total discharge of water and the total weight of mud held in suspension. This weight of mud, reconverted into surface rock, must cover the entire rain PALEOZOIC FISH, TEILOSITES, BEACHIOPODS, COEAL AXD GEAPTOLITE. formed, the work of destruction is accelerated. As the ice river — for such a glacier Glacial action. ig-slowly makes its way from the region of perpetual snow to the melt- ing point, it carries with it fragments of rock that have been broken off by frost : some of these it bears on its surface — others lie between it and the rock over which it glides; and a grinding process by which the surface is being worn away is thus always going on. At the melting point of the glacier, part of the mud and stones is deposited, forming what is called a terminal moraine ; part is borne away by the stream to which the melted ice gives rise. The large proportion of sediment suspended in the Rhine and the Rhone is produced mainly in this way. _ Looking at the combined and ceaseless opera- tion of these destructive agencies, we come to the inevitable conclusion that if there w^ere no counteracting forces also at work, the dry land would in the course of time be reduced to the basin to a depth of one foot spread uni- formly. Rates of Denudation of Rain Basins lowered One Foot Ganges 2,3.58 Mississippi 6,000 Hoang Ho 1,464 Yangtse Kiang 2,700 Rhone 1,528 Danube 6,848 Po 729 Mean 3,090 “ From this table it appears that atmospheric agencies are capable at present of lowering land surfaces at the rate of one foot per 3000 years ; but since the sea bottoms are to the land sur- faces in the proportion of 145 to 52, the rate at which (under present circumstances) the sea * “Notes on Phvsical Geology,” by Prof. Haughton, D.C.L., r.R.S., &c.f GEOLOGY. 289 bottoms are silted up, the present rate of for- mation of strata is one foot in 8,616 years.” This calculation, interesting as it is, is clearly defective, since it fails to take into account the waste of coast lines by the sea, and the lime and other salts held in solution by the river waters. Still the figures help us to realise the immense importance of atmospheric agencies from a geological point of view, and the magni- tude of the work they accomplish. This work is comprehensively described by the phrase we have already used — “ sub-aerial denudation.” Of the various movements of the earth’s crust — the elevation of that which has been the bed of the ocean to be dry land, and the corresponding depression of the land beneath the waters — it is not necessary to say much here. The evidence and of such movements in past times is to be found everywhere ; and one illustration is contained in the history of the Mendips as given in our opening chapter. We have further good reason to believe that similar risings and sinkings of land are going on at the present time ;* and the constant occurrence of earth- quakes and volcanic eruptions gives evidence of deep-seated forces always in operation, and probably intimately connected with the changes of level which form so marked a feature of geological history. TABLE OF SEDIMENTARY AND FOSSILIFEROUS STRATA OF GREAT BRITAIN, Showing the Order of their Succession, POST-TEKTIARY, OR QUATERNARY. Recent and Peehistoric. Alluvium ; river deltas ; some cave earths and raised beaches, and generally the deposits now forming in rivers and seas, in which shells and other fossils are all, with rare exceptions, of existing species. Pleistocene, or Post-pliocene. Cave deposits generally ; older river gravels and raised beaches, with shells and other fossils of extinct or locally extinct species. Glacial drift of Northern Europe. Bridlington beds. [The pleistocene deposits of Great Britain are divided by Mr. W. Boyd-Dawkins into Early Fleistoeene, represented by the Cromer Forest bed ; Middle Pleistocene, represented by the brick earths of the Thames valley^ and Later Pleistocene, including most cave deposits with remains of hygena, bear, etc., associated with implements of human workmanship of an early type.] TERTIARY, OR CAINOZOIG (OR NEOZOIC). Pliocene. Chillesford and Aldeby beds ; Norwich crag ; Red crag of Suffolk ; White or Coralline crag of Suffolk. Miocene. Upper. — W anting. Loiver, — Lignite beds of Bovey Tracey ; leaf bed of Mull ; lignite of Antrim ; Hempstead bedst (Isle of Wight). Eocene. Upper. — Bembridge marls and limestone ; Osborne beds ; Pleadon beds (Freshwater and Estuarine). Middle. — Barton clay ; Bracklesham beds ; Upper and Lower Bagshot sands and clays with plants. Lower . — London clay (including the Bognor beds) ; Blackheath and Oldhaven beds ; Wool- wich and Reading beds ; Thanet sands. SECONDARY, OR MESOZOIC. Cretaceous. Upper . — White chalk with flints ; lower white chalk without flints ; chalk marl. Middle. — Upper greensand (Godstone firestone, etc.) ; gault. Lower . — Lower greensand (or Neocomian), including Folkestone beds, Sandgate beds, Hythe beds, Atherfield clay, Wealden clay (freshwater), Hastings beds. * Thus in parts of Sweden and the shores and islands of Bothnia proofs have been obtained that the land is experiencing, and has experienced for centuries, a slow upheaving movement. It appears from the obser- vations of Mr. Darwin and others that very extensive regions of the continent of South America have been xmdergoing slow and gradual upheaval, by which the level plains of Patagonia, covered with recent marine shells, and the Pampas of Buenos Ayres, have been raised above the level of the sea. On the other hand, the gradual sinking of the coast of Greenland, for the space of more than 600 miles from north to south, during the last four centuries has been established by the observations of a Danish naturalist. Dr. Pinzel. — Lyell. + These beds are regarded by many geologists as Upper Eocene. They have been classified hero as Miocene on the authority of Sir Charles Lyell. VOL. 1. 19 290 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, Oolite. UlJper.—VmhQok beds (upper, middle, and lower — Freshwater and Estuarine) ; Portland stone and sand ; Kimmeridge clay. Middle. — Upper calcareous grit ; Coral rag, or Coralline oolite; Lower calcareous grit ; Oxford clay ; Kelloway rock. Lower. — Cornbrash ; Great oolite (including Forest marble and Bradford clay, Bath oolite, Stonesfield slate, Fuller’s-earth oolite, Moorland coal beds of Yorkshire, and the Brora coal beds of Scotland); Inferior oolite ; Inferior oolite or liassic sands. Lias, Upper. — Clays, Middle, — Marlstones. Lower. — Clays and limestones. Ehcetic or Penarth Beds. (White lias, black shales, and grey marls.) Trias or New Red Sandstone. Upper. — Keu per beds ; red shales of Cheshire and Lancashire with rock salt ; “dolomitic conglomerates ” of Somersetshire. Middle. — W anting. Lower. — Bunter or New Red sandstone of Lancashire and Cheshire. PRIMARY, OR PALEOZOIC. Permian. Upper Permian or Magnesian limestone series. Lower Permian, consisting of red sandstone, marl, breccia, and conglomerates, etc. Carboniferous. Upper. — Coal measures of England and Wales ; millstone grit ; Yoredale senes of Yorkshire. Loiver. — Carboniferous limestone (or Mountain limestone) ; lower limestone shales. Devonian — Marine. Upper. — Marwood and Petherwin beds. Middle. — Plymouth, Ogwell, Ilfracombe and Combe Martin beds. Lower. — Linton and Fowey beds. Old Red Sandstone— Silurian. Upper Silurian. — Upper Ludlow beds ; Lower Ludlow beds ; Upper Wenlock limestone and shales; Lower Wenlock and Woolhope beds, and Denbighshire grits; Tarannon shales; Upper Llandovery rocks (May Hill sandstone). Lmver Sihiriaii. — Lower Llandovery rocks ; Bala and Caradoc beds ; Upper Llandeilo beds ; Lower Llandeilo (or Arenig) beds; Tremadoc slates ; Lingula (or Lingulella) flags ; Menevian beds. , Cambrian. Harlech grits ; Longmynd rocks ; Llanberis slates. Tlie above arrangement of the Lower Silurian and Cambrian systems is that adopted by the Geological ‘Survey in all their Memoirs and maps. By Sir Charles Lyell the Tremadoc slates and Lingula flags were 'described as “Upper Cambrian” — the Cambrian of the Survey, with the addition of the Menevian beds, being designated “ Lower Cambrian.” Many geologists, following the classification of the late Professor Sedgwick, include the whole of the “Lower Silurian ” in the Cambrian series. As it is simply a question of nomenclature, it seems more convenient to follow the Survey. Pre-Cambrian. Gneissic rocks of Capes Wrath and Lewis ; “ Dimetian,” “ Pebidian,” and “ Arvoniani” rocks of Wales? [Upper and Lower Laurentian rocks of North America]. MERCANTILE .LIFE. I. Preparatory Studies. The practice of the schools has differentiated to some extent the branches of learning suitable to various professions ; and when a resolution has been taken to enter into mercantile life. there can usually be little difficulty either in ascertaining the studies to which special atten- tion should be given, or in finding the necessary tuition. That arithmetic, book-keeping, and geography should be more fully mastered at school by one who intends in two or three years to be a mercantile clerk, than might be neces- sary in the case of one who had long years of study before him for one of the learned pro- fessions ; and that in languages the rudiments of French and German should have his prefer- ence over the rudiments of Greek and Latin ; are maxims obvious and indisputable. There THE FRIENDLY COUNSELLOR, 291 is so much to be learned, in office work, of the details and technicalities, and the practice of mercantile business, which no school can teach but the office itself, that it becomes the more desirable to go from school with as much of common knowledge, learning, and expertness, to be officially called into constant exercise, as ix)ssible. A youth enters upon real work in mercantile life much earlier than a student of medicine or divinity, or, indeed, of any of the professional pursuits. His apprenticeship in business may be compared to the terms of a student in the university, in the college, or in the lecture- rcoms and laboratories of professors. It does not follow, therefore, that he requires less edu- cation than the others ; but, on the contrary, (1) that his school instruction needs in its final emphasis to develop special faculties demanded by his future calling, and (2) that his education does not end, but is only advancing to a higher stage, when he enters an office. Because it must be allowed that a successful merchant has to learn quite as much, and to be fit for quite as much mentally, as a successful surgeon or physician, lawyer, divine, or naturalist. Some would probably say he has to learn rather more. The preparatory studies proper to mercantile life involve the question what a merchant is, and what his place is in trade and industr}’-, and in the general system of affairs. Merchants are the agents of exchange, domestic and inter- national. The producers and consumers of goods, and buyers and sellers, would find it difficult, and in many cases impossible, to meet each other, but for those who make it their business to form a market, to ascertain the various kinds of produce in demand, and the sources fi'om which they are most profitably to be supplied. The merchant has to scan and estimate the value of commodities, not only in their degree of quality, and in their ratio of exchange one with another, as well as in their money price, but also in due study of the amount of stocks, the probable consump- tion within a given period, and the pros- pects of their reproduction — in short, of all the facts of the case bearing upon value. When goods are consigned to him, he will often have to advise his clients whether to hold or sell, and at what price — will some- times have to give unwelcome advice — and his success and reputation will depend on the frequency with which his advice, welcome or unwelcome, is proved to have been sound. In proportion to the capital he has at command, he will buy commodities on his own account when he has reason to believe them cheap, and sell them when they are dearer, and in thus making a profit to himself, will have served an important public interest. His purchases when the market was low sustained the pro- ducers, and his sales when the market rose was a benefit to the consumers, and tended to avert what, but for this intervention, might have ended in a harassing scarcity. To with- hold stocks of goods from the market in pro- longed expectation of some highest or coveted monopoly price is too apt to burn the fingers of the operator to be often repeated ; and, generally speaking, the course of the merchant is only safe to himself when, in redounding to his own profit, it has tended to equalise prices^ and been a profit to the community. The art of a merchant is thus one of mani- fold elements. In the first place, it is obvious that he must be an expert and judicious calcu- lator, not only over a considerable range of fixed items — such as weights and measures, freight, insurance, dues, periods of time and rates of interest, and exchange of foreign money into sterling, etc. — but over more widely problematic relations of cause and effect, bear- ing on almost every important operation in which he engages. The skill in quality of commodities itself is only acquired by much culture, and often implies a knowledge of more than one science. Chemistry, laws of force and motion, laws of light and heat, the most recondite laws of nature, and all the arts of design, are now largely comprehended in manufactures; while in judging of raw pro- duce, one needs such exquisite sense of colour, or taste, or touch, and such ready apprehension of differences of one kind or other, as are almost equal to a science. The sham quality in many classes of goods has also, under the artifices of the age, attained so close an outward semblance to the real, that a merchant ought to have the instincts of a first-class detective — instincts that would raise him to high promotion in Scotland Yard ! It is certain that he must keep steadily before him the mercantile laws, not only of his own country, but of foreign countries ; and in this sense he needs to be a kind of lawyer, just as, in another sense, he needs to be a kind of statesman in his broad and enlightened comprehension of political affairs at home and abroad. In nearly all branches of the science of political economy merchants require to be as versant as even lawyers or statesmen must be in their several extensive departments ; and after having studied and familiarised their minds with the fundamental and established conclusions of the masters, have to cany on a sub-section of their own in a close observation of the commercial and industrial phenomena in the cases before them, ever varying as these do, and by which the principles of economic science are necessarily modified in their action. Let us add to this survey of mercantile requisites, that nothing stands the merchant in much better stead than knowledge of men, and being a good judge of character. X. The Leaves {continued). Apparently without exception, the plants which have brilliantly coloured leaves, or in 292 THE VNIVERSAL IKSTltUCTOll. Contrast of which the veins are of some rich tint, produce comparatively inconspicuous and often very insignificant flowers. The crotons, the Caladiums, the Rumex sanguineus, would never be resorted to by a bouquetiste ; and if the species of Amaranth which have purple foliage produce grand crimson trails, as in the old-fashioned cottage garden flower, the love - lies - bleeding QAmarantus caudatus), the effect comes, not of the flowers being intrinsically fine, but of their being massed together in thou- sands. Compared with the great majority of the orchideous race, the flowers even of the Anoecto- chilus make no pretension. This is just what one would expect. Nature, ahvays munificent, seldom bestows a duality of perfections, and whenever she grants special privileges, the accustomed quali- fig. 44.— leaf ties are usually a trifle below the average. Very few indeed are the plants which possess the maximum of what is called “ beauty ” in all their parts alike. Is there one that can be said to do so ? Every part and every organ is, in one kind or another, allowed pre- eminence; the fairness of Nature in letting no part or organ have reason to complain, is one of her most amiable attributes ; and how seldom are we left in doubt as to which it is ! The root has its turn when charged with sugar or other substance useful to man ; the stem has it in the great timber-trees ; the leaves come to the front as re- gards dimen- sions in the palms, and as regards gor- , geousness of colouring in the crotons, etc.; the flowers, like favourite singers, have their turn oftener than all the others put together. Is it pos- sible to find an explana- tion of all this? The physiological one certainly does not suf- fice, since, in reference to the bright red of the gaily-painted Prefiguration, ig^ves, it rests with saying, w^hat is quite true as far as it goes, that the red- ness comes of the secretion or production of “ erythrophyll ” instead of “chlorophyll,” chlorophyll being the ordinary green colour- FIG. 45. — sareacenia. ing matter of plants. All the phenomena of nature rest on something earlier and older than physiology. Physiology, one of the most cap- tivating and rewarding of all sciences, deals at its best only with the proxi- mate. We are constantly refen’ed to something higher and antece- dent. The greatest charm of physiology to a well-ordered mind is that, as in trouble and in death, we must needs go to God at last. This there is no evading. Allu- sion has already been made to the beautiful way in which Nature recapitulates, on higher platforms, and with more finished manipula- tion, the things and ideas set forth upon inferior levels, — as when mosses and selaginellas renew, in green life, the idea of the “ frost flowers” upon the window-panes in winter mornings ; and as when the symmetry and colours of OF NEPENTHES, flowcrs cvolvc, in more exquisite fashion, the idea of the crystal — the amethyst, the ruby, and the sapphire becoming, as it were, animated. One appel- lative word covers the whole matter, whether we look from above upon w^hat is below, or from below upwards. Nature is everywhere a scene of Prefiguration. It would seem to have pleased God that everything great and noble and good should be foretold ; that everything should ensue upon a “herald voice,” not necessarily as to time, but in relative position. It is a profound mistake to regard inferior things as degradations or dilutions of superior ones. The true idea is that they are, as it were, pencil sketches, w'hich by- and-by are to be completed gloriously in pigments. In plants, to make the matter more special, roots prefigure and presignify stems; stems are found pre- signifying leaves — (how beautifully, for instance, in the Xylo- phylla); and leaves, in turn, presig- nify flowers. The function of the crimson crotons and dracaenas is to announce the idea next in succession above, one not to be realised by themselves, because they are heralds only, but in due time to be set forth consummately in rose and lily. LEAVES OF CAB03IEA. BOTANY. 293 A good many plants prefigure the life and habits of the Carnivora among animals : that is to say, while in vigorous health ^^^'"eaves ° devote their time to cap- turing midges and other little insects, whence their popular name of fly-catchers.” The existence of these ]dants has long been known to bota- nists. More than a hundred years ago the celebrated “ Venus’ fly-tra}) ” (^DiflncBa mnscipnla) of Carolina at- tracted attention ; and the propensities of the wild English sundews — those of the Drosera rotundifoUa most particu- larly — were probably observed at quite as early a period. It is but recently, however, that they have received minute scientific consideration. Besides the Dionsea and the Droseras, there belong to this singular company a num- ber of curious North American plants called Sarracenias, and a number of East Indian ones constituting the genus Nepenthes. The insect-capturing habit is by no means confined even to these ; since many plants destroy insects by means of apparatus identified with the flowers. Others, again, less ingenious than either of the two preceding sorts, destroy insects by exudation of sticky matter from some particular portion of their surface, the victims being held fast in it, as birds are by bird-lime. The plants called “catchfly” efect this purpose by means of stickiness of the stems ; various beautiful Ericas from the Cape of Good Hope do the same with their corollas. Here, however, we are con- cerned only with the fly-capturing Leaves, foremost among which in interest, being illustrated in our native flora, stand the Droseras. These lovely little plants grow almost invariably upon wet moors and bogs, and in mountainous dis- ^ tricts, wher- Droseras. jg wet peat. They are not peculiar to England, the many species being diffused over nearly the whole world. Nor, although agreeing in structure and in manners and customs, are they all fashioned alike, the shape of the leaves being very elegantly di- versified, while the blos- soms, which are usually white, vary in certain kinds to rose-colour and yellow. Three species occur in Great Britain, — the com- mon or round-leaved sun- dew, Drosera rotvndifolia ; the beautiful Dro- sera Anglica, which has spatulate leaves ; and a smaller one, called Drosera intermedia. In all three the leaves constitute a radical tuft or rosette : those of the rotundifoUa, which are about three-quarters of an inch across, lying flat upon the ground ; while those of the Anglica, the average length of which is about three inches, rise almost ver- tically. Every leaf is bordered, in a ciliate manner, with long crimson projections, broad at the base, and gradually taper- ing into a glandular knob ; upon the surface there are similar knobs, the stalks of which are, however, much shorter ; and now the trap only wants setting. The setting consists in the oozing from the glandular knobs of an exquisitely limpid and very tenacious gum : every gland acting simultane- ously, so that the leaves now seem decked in every part with diamonds, and hence the vernacular name, “ Sun- dew.” Innumerable tiny insects of tender wing are caught by these pretty gems ; once captured, escape is im- possible, and the blackened corpses FIG. 47.— LEAF OF strcw the surface like the bones before DioxiEA. the den of the demon in the fairy tale. So far, all is plain to the observation of every one who chooses to pay a visit to the moors in July. The question then arises, To what end is this insect-catching directed ? Of course there is an object in it, since in nature there is never either wanton mischief or caprice. Looking round, and collecting all the facts con- nected with the destruction of life as seen in nature, it is plain that, ordinarily, when life is taken, the intention is that advantage shall accrue to the taker, this always resolving into the employment of what has been put to death ^^food. That one or two of the domesticated quadrupeds sometimes kill and do not eat, does not affect the principle, since they are living in artificial conditions, and are supplied with what they require by man, whose proud pre-eminence it is to be the only animal by whom life is taken wilfully and uselessly — not to say at times cruelly and in- famously. On 2^rim d facie grounds it would bo rea- sonable to suppose, accord- ingly, that the capturing of insects by the sundews is with a view to the utiliza- tion of the products of their decaying bodies as nutri- ment ; and the observations and experiments of skilled physiologists all tend to the establishing of this. Dro- seras supplied artificially with animal food become in every way more sub- stantial than individua’s from which it is withheld. Venus’ fly-trap (^Diona-a 'nivscfnla'), a of the same family as FIG. 48 .— XEPF.XXnES Th( plant the sundews, resembles them in having a rosette of radical leaves from the centre of which, in proper season, arises The Dicnoea. 294 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. a flower-stalk. But in this truly wonderful pro- duction of nature, the leaves, which are about an inch and a half across, consist of two plates, lightly hinged together, and bearing, individu- ally, no remote resemblance to the human hand, being constituted, as it were, of a palm and projecting fingers (fig. 47). On the surface of each palm, however, are three little green hair- like bodies. When the trap is set, the two palms are spread out horizontally. The instant an insect touches the green hairs upon either of them, they fold together upon the hinge, interlocking their fingers, as when we ourselves “ clasp ” our hands, and the victim is impri- soned and put to death. Ordinary house-flies are thus captured wlien the plant is cultivated, as is now very often done, in greenhouses and conservatories. The Sarracenias constitute a family or natural order of their own, and can hardly be said to jwssess a single characteristic The Sarra- common with the Droseraceas, cenias. . ,1 .1 except that they are exogenous. None, indeed, of the insectivorous plants be- long to the endogenous class, though it is among the endogenous Orchidacem that we have some of the most striking illustrations of the serviceableness of insects in promoting fertilization. That, however, is quite another matter — one to be spoken of presentl 3 n The Sarracenias are herbaceous perennials, indi- genous to the swamps of temperate North America. The leaves, which grow in tufts, have their margins brought together and united in such a wa}^ as to convert them into vessels several inches in length, at least an inch in diameter at the top, and capable of holding water, whence in their native country they are termed “ Indian cups.” The rim is elegantly “ worked,” like the overcasting of a button- hole ; and accessory to the general design there are numbers of short, stiff bristles pointing downwards. Fluid, partly secreted by the plant itself, is contained in these curious cups for about half the distance upwards ; it is attractive to insects, which, descending the inner wall, cannot possibly creep out again, and are drowmed by thousands. The cups, scientifically termed “ascidia,” are either semi -recumbent, as in the common Sarracenia ruhra, or per- fectly erect, when they often attain a length of eighteen or twenty inches. Occasionally the uppermost portion in these tall varieties, including its qna.n-\\d, is most beautifully variegated with green, white, and rose-colour, as in the Sarracenia Drummoiulii. The last- mentioned often contains the dead bodies of myriads of ants ; and not uncommonly the corpse of a bee, a wasp, or even (as we have ourselves observed) of a dragon-fly, head down- wards; curiosity paying in every case the rmlooked-for penalty. The flowers of the Sarracenias are large, red or yellow, solitary upon the summits of long peduncles, and in structure very singular. In the extraordinary genus Nepenthes, indi- genous to the islands washed by the Indian „ , Ocean, and now represented in epenthes. gggd English hothouse, the contrivance, though somewhat similar to the last-named, has features again of its owm. The plant is in every instance a weak-stemmed, straggling climber, requiring the support of bushes, and then reaching many feet, perhaps even many yards. The leaves are six or eight inches long, and in outline elliptical. 'Ihe midrib is carried forwards, and becomes a sort of vegetable wire, which turns coilwise two or three times, and then leads on to a curious pendulous pitcher, most elegantly balanced, so that the mouth is always uppermost, and the fluid in the interior safely preserved from running out (fig. 44). Here there is a genuine lid, distinctl}^ articulated to the margin of the pitcher, and, while the latter is young, adherent to the rim, though when once lifted into the erect ])osition it never afterwards shuts down. The size of the pitchers varies from that of one’s linger to that of a very large lemon ; the rim is worked, like that of the Sarracenias ; there is a similar provision of bristles to pre- vent the escape of the unwary, and a similar “ watery grave ” for all Avho pass the fatal frontier. Long before the lid loosens itself from the rim of the pitcher, the latter may be observeil half full of fluid, secreted fi-om the tissues, and plainly proving that the bygone idea that the Nepenthes was a contrivance for collecting rain was purely fanciful. Equally at variance with fact was the concurrent original fancy that the pitchers were designed as reservoirs for thirsty birds. Birds never visit them ; they know better than to drink what is simply a liquid insect-bait, probabh’’ distasteful. The flowers of the Nepenthes are greenish and unattractive. Every fiction is the representative of a truth to be found somcAvhere. There are plants Avhich collect rain and dew', and which might be supposed, with and dew , f: ‘it collectors, some show ot reason, to be ser- viceable in the Avay spoken of, though that thej" are ever really visited by birds seems extremely'" improbable. The leaf of the Alchemilla vul- /7fl7'7.s above mentioned holds, while half opened, in early morning, and at other times w-hen the sunbeam is not too fervent, a limpid globule, which disappears, like quicksilver, with the slightest shake. The leaves of the common columbine, also a British wild-flower, similarly collect the deAv, and retain the globules for many hours, whence the appropriate Latin name, “ Aquilegia ” — literally, the “ water- gatherer.” More remarkable than either, be- cause of the quantity and the long safe-keeping of the collected rain, is the common teasel, the leaves of which, growing in pairs, and being “ connate,” or having their lower portions con- joined, form a large cup at every node. A full-grown plant will often supply at least a pint of water. Very felicitous was the appella- tion bestow'ed upon this curious vegetable two thousand years ago, and still peculiarly its owm, — Dipsacus ; literally, “ the thirsty one.” The observation of these odd and pretty ways of plants constitutes one of the chief and most enduring pleasures of field botany. Let no one suppose — as Ave have already said, but may well repeat, and can never say too energetically — that botany begins and ends Avith pulling plants ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 295 to pieces, giving them hard names, and making mummies of them : the reality, the queenliness, of botany consist in part, no doubt, of careful analysis of the vegetable structure, but no less in the consideration of the life and habits of , plants, their ways and methods and aptitudes, fancies, dislikes, and ingenuities. IX. Etymology : Classification of Words. § 65. Divisions of Etymolopry. § 66. The Parts of Speech. § 67. I. The Noun. § 68. The Proper noun. § 69. The Common noun ; Collective and Abstract nouns. Having brought our survey of the history, affinities, and position of English down to the present, we now proceed to the grammatical examination of the language as it is. I'or this purpose it is necessary to deal with — (1) the Classification of Words, with some analysis of sentences ; (2) Orthography, or that which treats of sounds and letters ; (3) Inflexion, and the changes that words undergo. § 65. Grammar, as we have seen (§ 12), con- sists of — 1. Etymology. 2. Orthography, the properties of sounds and letters. 3. Syntax, the connection of words according to certain laws of speech. ^ Etymology treats of words individually con- sidered in three manners, according to — (i.) Classification. (ii.) Inflexion. (iii.) Derivation. But though it is convenient thus to define | certain branches of the Art, they are not wholly I independent one of another : while we are i studying some parts of Etymology, we must 1 also consider parts of Syntax ; the right com- ! prehension of the two is bound up together. I Some knowledge of the power and laws of j sounds in letters helps us to explain other | facts of Etymology ; thus it becomes a study of greater interest than a mere set of dry rules could ever give. We shall therefore— departing from the^ usual order — break up our considera- tion of Etymology by devoting a short space to Orthography, between the Classification and the Inflexion of words. § 66. Words are arranged in eight classes, or “ parts ” of speech, according to their use in a sentence : — 1. The Noun. 6. The Adverb. 2. The Pronoun. 6. The Preposition. 3. The Adjective. 7. The Conjunction. 4. The Verb. 8. The Interjection. Some grammarians count only seven parts of speech ; they put aside the interjection, as not being, in their eyes, a true word of real speech. Others have made nine classes, by dividing the Adjectives and carving out of them the Article. Words might be grouped in several more subdivisions, up to about twenty in number ; but simplicity and con- venience would thereby be losers. On the other hand, students of the growth of language find that the “ parts ” of speech may be said to have been originally only two — the Noun and the Verb ; and they explain how by degrees the other divisions arose from the desire to express more clearly the circumstances sur- rounding those two great notions by means of separate words doing distinct duties. § 67. I. A Noun is a word used for a name, whether of a thing that we can ,^ee ov feel, or of a thing of which we can only think. “The sun gives heat ; his rays have power : ” here the words sun and rays, names of things we can see ; heat, a thing which we can feel ; and power, a thing which we cannot see nor feel, but think of, — are all nouns. In the sentences, '■'•John had a knife and cake," "■Thomas took his team of horses to Londonf John, knife, cake, Thomas, team, horses, and London, are all nouns. When the child first begins to articulate, its notions are confined to things which it perceives through the senses : it learns to attach a sign or word to the thing it sees, and presently remembers the word without seeing the thing; all things about him get names. Thus, nouns are the first words in an infant’s lan- guage. The next set of ideas which he wishes to express are those of action; “Baby v!ant dinner,” “ Baby come to mother.” “Baby go," come out of the little one’s moiith in the natural sequence of expres- sion, and hence we have verbs. (See under § 80.) § 68. A slight examination of these examples will show that there is some difference among the nouns ; can such words as London and cake, Thomas, fower, and team, belong to the same class ? They all are names — signs which repre- sent the things spoken of ; but when we say Thomas or London, we mean a name which is applied to the one thing to which it specially belongs. These we call, therefore. Proper nouns. 1. A Proper noun is a particular name applied to an individual ywrson or thing. For though there may be many persons named John or Thomas, yet when we use the word we only mean to speak of one in- dividual. § 69. The words sun, heat, power, cake, knife, are all names of individual things in the sets of the same kind. There are many cakes, but each one is called a “ cake ” ; there are several teams, but each one is called a “ team ” ; we can think of several powers, but we call each separate idea of it “ power ” ; thus the name is in these cases common to all of the same kind of thing. We have therefore a second class, of Common nouns. 2. A common noun is the name of each one in the same sort of things. But we find beyond this that there are three distinct sorts of common noun?, which are well worth discriminating. (h') The noun which expresses a collection or a number of persons or things as one thing ; this is the Collective noun, of which team is 296 IHE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. an example ; JioeJi, covi'mittee, herd, army, are others, (c) The noun which expresses the name of an abstract idea, of a thing we can think and speak about only, as the name of a quality, jyroqjerty, or action ; this is the Abstract noun. Power belongs to this class ; hlackncss, heat, virtue, rage, grandeur, writing, running, are further examples ; to which must be added the infinitive mood of the verb, which is simply the name of the idea of the action, as in “ to obey the laws is wise ; ” “ to pull off his coat, to save the children, were the thoughts of an instant.” Care must be taken to distinguish between tvor ''s expressing the quality applied to something else, and the idea of the quality itself. If we say “a black horse,” we mean to show what sort of horse he is, and do not think of the colour apart from him ; but if we say “the black- ness of night,” we gather the notion of blackness as a thing in itself. In the first instance the word is an adjective, in the second an abstract noun. (These in- stances, however, show how near together adjec- tives and nouns once were.) All other nouns in class (cT) not belong- ing to either (h) or {c) are simply common nouns : as cat, house, ylant, man, etc. We have then four kinds of nouns : — 1. Proper 2a. Common. 2h, Collective. 2c. Abstract, FILLING A BALLOON. VIII. Water — {continued'). We have already pointed out that the rapidity of evaporation increases with the temperature ; that the warmer the air, the greater the amount of water- vapour it is capable of absorb- ing ; and from what we have just stated with regard to the volatile nature of water and its instant conversion into vapour m vacuo, it will be perceived that this result must likewise be affected by the pressure of atmosphere. Sufficient has, however, already been said with regard to evaporation under the head of the atmosphere, and we will now pass on to con- sider some of the attributes exhibited by water under the three forms in which it is known to exist. At all tern- Conditions peratures between 0° and 100° on J on the centigrade scale water assumes the liquid form ; above 100°, at the ordinary atmospheric pressure, it passes into the state of a gas ; while at the temperature of 0° under normal conditions it becomes solid. It is Avell known that ice floats upon, . , and is ® — there fore lighter than, water ; consequently ice occupies a larger space than the cor- responding volume of water. Water, on pass- ing into the icy state, expands with a force that is almost illimitable — a force which has been estimated to be equal to that which would be re- quired to reduce it to its original bulk. One of the principal forces at work, breaking up and disintegrating the rocks, is exercised by the water which freezes after having pene- trated into their fissures. Ex- periments have been made with w'ater by confin- ing it in strong air-tight cells or chambers, and ex.posing it to a temperature below freezing point, the result being in every case to demon- strate, by the bursting of the vessel in which it was hermetically enclosed, the tremendous force exerted by w'ater on passing into the icy state. Water, w'hen reverting from the condition of a solid to that of a liquid, illustrates the truth of the law already enun- dated, that heat disappears or becomes latent under these cir- gtrated. cumstances. This may be demon- strated in the following manner : If we mix a pint of water at 0° with a pint of water whose temperature is 79°, we shall find that the tem- perature of the mixture will be the mean, or CHEMISTRY. 297 39^°; but if, on the other hand, we take a pint of water at 79°, and pour it into a vessel con- taining a quantity of snow or powdered ice, exactly equal in weight to the water, we shall find that when the ice is melted the tempera- ture of the resulting quart of water is 0°, showing that the 79° of heat in the water has only just sufficed to convert the ice into water without raising its temperature. Hence we assume that, in passing from the solid to the liquid state, a given weight of water takes up or renders latent the same amount of heat that would suffice to raise the tem- perature of an equal weight of water through 79° The latent heat of water is therefore said to be 79 thermal units, a thermal unit being the amount of heat required to raise a unit weight of water one degree of temperature. That heat, in like manner, becomes latent when water passes from the liquid to the gaseous state, is exhibited, in the phenomenon of boiling. Water, like all liquids, is said to boil when the tension or elastic force of its vapour has overcome the •pressure of the atmosphere, and this takes place at the tempe- rature of 100° under the normal pressure of the latter body, the temperature of the steam given off being the same as that of the boiling water. It is found that a given volume of steam at 100°, if passed through water, will suf- fice to raise the temperature of more than five times its own weight of water to 100° or boiling point. To put the facts more exactly, we may say that one volume of steam will raise the temperature of 5‘36 times its own weight of water at 0° through 100°, or 636 The latent heat j^^g -^^eight through 1°. 0 s earn. jjgnce the latent heat of steam is said to be 536 thermal units. APPAUATUd POIi GEXEEATING HXDKOGEN. THE COMPOSITION OF WATER. To one other phenomenon exhibited by water we must draw attention, as it is an example of a wise provision in the economy of nature. We have already drawn attention to the fact that liquids expand under the influence of heat. This is true of water as of all . ^ other liquids; and when we say .^^aS^yheat that a body expands by heat, it is of course equivalent to saying that it con" tracts or dimin- ishes in volume as it cools. And herein it is that water exhibits its abnormal pecu- liarity. Water continues to grow denser and heavier as it be- comes colder, un- til the tempera- ture of 4° is reached ; at this point the process of condensation is arrested, and water continues to grow some- w'hat lighter un- til the temperature of 0° is attained. In other words, the maximum density of water does not correspond with the minimum of temperature. The importance of this law cannot be over- stated, and we shall realize the fact of its being a wise and bene- ficent dispensa- tion of provi- dence, if we re- flect that were it otherwise, and were water sub- ject to the com- mon law, the coldest w'ater, being the most dense, would naturally sink to the bottom, and the ice would begin to form be- low instead of on the surface, and in a severe win- ter our lakes and rivers would be converted into solid ice, which not all the heat of the suns of the ensuing summer would suffice to thaw. It is well known that the larger and deeper the volume of water, the longer it takes to freeze, under similar conditions. The reason of this wdll be apparent if we come to consider what actually takes place in nature before a pond or river is frozen. The surface water is cooled by radiation and evapora- tion, and thus becoming heavier sinks, while the lighter and warmer water below rises to supply 298 THE VNITERSAL INSTRUCTOR. its place. This process goes on until the entire mass has attained the temperature ShaUow water 4,0^ After this the surface water qihckeTt. never sinks, as, however cold it may become, it is always lighter than the deeper water ; hence the ice begins to form on the top of the water, and the surface is covered with ice, while the temperature of the mass of the water below does not fall below 4° centigrade. The Elements. The term element as applied in chemistry has already been defined to be something that is in itself ultimate and indivisible in the sense that it defies our powers of analysis and cannot be broken up or resolved into any- thing simpler. Water is not an element in the chemical sense of the term, because, as has already been shown, it is a com- pound of two constitu- ent gases, oxygen and hydrogen. Each of the latter is, however, as far as we are aware, an element, since it resists our utmost efforts to resolve it into any simpler con- stituents. One of the first facts that engages the atten- tion in entering on the study of chemistry, and which indeed it is the special province of that science to reveal, is that the great ma- jority of substances with which we are most familar, whether organic or inorganic, are in reality compounds. The ele- ments are seldom met with native or uncom- bined in the inorganic world ; in the world of living organisms never. The principal sub- stances entering into the structure of the bodies of animals and plants are built up out of a comparatively small number of elements. The same elements, com- bined in slightly different proportions, give rise to organic compounds of the most opposite nature and attributes. The scents of different flowers and the flavouring principle of fruits and vegetables, however distinct and charac- teristic, are in reality compounds differing often very slightly in their constitution ; and we may weU marvel that, growing under similar con- ditions in the same soil, and nourished by the Name. Symbol. C. weight. Aluminium A1 27-4 Antimony Sb 122 Arsenic . • As 75 Barium . • Ba 137 Bismuth . • Bi 210 Boron B 11 Bromine , Br SO j Calcium . Ca 40 I Carbon . C 12 Chlorine . Cl 35 ‘5 Chromium Cr 52-2 Cobalt Co 58-7 Copper . Cu 63-5 Fluorine . F 19 Gold Au 197 Hydrogen H 1 Iodine I 127 Iron Fe 56 Lead Pb 207 Magnesium Mg 24 Manganese Mn 55 Mercury . Hg 200 Nickel . Ni 58-7 Nitrogen . N 14 Oxygen . 0 16 Phosphorus P 31 Platinum Pt 197-5 Potassium K 39-1 Selenium Se 79-5 Silicon . Si 28 Silver Ag 108 Sodium . Na 23 Strontium Sr 87-5 Sulphur . S 32 Tellurium Te 129 Tin . Sn 118 Zinc Zn 65-2 TABLE OP ELEMENTS. same amount of warmth and moisture, effects BO various should be evolved in the process of vital action. The number of elements hitherto discovered amounts to nearly seventy, and fresh research will no doubt add to the number from time to time. On the other of 00 ™* hand, increased powers of analy- sis may show that some of the reputed elements are in reality compounds. Many of the elements are of rare occurrence, and when met with occur only in infinitesi- mally small quantities combined with other ’substances. We have not thought it worth while, therefore, to burden the memory of the reader with the names of elements he is not likely to hear of again, and have confined ourselves to Ciiumerating the more important because the more common among them. Nor have we attempted, for the pre- sent, any classification of them into the metals and non-metals, or otherwise, but have simply transcribed them in alphabetical succession, giving against the name of each its symbol, or the letter or letters which, stand for it, and which we shaH henceforward use instead of the name of the substance itself. The figures likewise affixed to each repre- sent its atomic or com- bining weight. This we may regard, if we please, as the weight of its atom ; at all events, it represents the defi- nite and invariable proportion by weight in which each element combines with every other element in all its compounds. W e shall now proceed to describe the essential attributes and pro- perties of -each of the foregoing elements, as well as those of the principal compounds it forms wnth the other elements. Having al- ready spoken of the three principal ele- mentary gases, oxygen, hydrogen, and nitro- gen, we will take them first in order, giving the precedence to hydrogen as lightest of all bodies, and also as furnishing the stan- dard whereby we estimate the combining weights of all other elements. It thus occu- pies a position of importance quite indepen- dent of its own intrinsic merits. ANCIENT HISTORY, 209 IX. Assyrian Conquest op Syria. Advancing from Hamath, Shalmaneser cap- tured three subordinate cities, Adinnu^ Barga (or Parga), and Argana; and then found* him- self confronted by the most formidable opposi- tion he had as yet encountered, — the combined army of the great Syrian League. Here we find a meeting-point between the monumental and the Biblical narratives; but it appears to be necessary to Chronological j^ake a correction in the gene- variations. accepted chronology of Archbishop Usher, which differs slightly from that of Hales. The events about to be nar- rated are stated by the decipherers to have occurred about forty-five or fifty years later than the dates given in the Biblical history. Ahab, king of Israel, and Benhadad are dis- tinctly mentioned in the Assyrian inscriptions in connection with events the date of which is given as Sol B.C.; but Usher calculated that Ahab became king in 918 B.C., and died in 896 B.c. ; and Benhadad II. of Syria is stated to have died about 890 B.c. The discrepancy, however, is not of much importance when we consider that there was no exact common standard for the measurement of the year, and the differences that exist between the results of the calculations of modern chronologers. There is an essential agreement of facts which renders a slight disagreement of dates (neces- sarily somewhat speculative) of comp'aratively little interest. The Syria (or Aram) of the Hebrew Scrip- tures and of the Assyrian records was the , . country to the north-east of the Jewish kingdom, extending to the upper waters of the Eu- phrates on the east, with the Phoenician coast- land on the west. It was occupied by a num- ber of independent or semi-independent tribes, mostly of Hittite descent. The most powerful king was Benhadad II., whose capital was at Damascus, who is said to have had thirty-tM'o vassals or tributary kings. Another important prince was Irkhuleni, of Hamath, or Aleppo. These two kings headed the confederation of Syrian chiefs who formed the League, with the intention of resisting Shalmaneser. Benhadad, a warrior of renown, famous in the Biblical narrative for his wars with the kingdom of Israel, was chosen general, and was reinforced not only by Ahab, king of Israel, with whom, we may suppose, he was as yet on friendly terms, but by Egypt. Indeed, we can only parallel the determined attitude of opposition assumed by the western kingdoms by referring to the combination, in the present century, of the great European states against the victorious Napoleon. Shalmaneser had crossed the Euphrates, as Napoleon crossed the Rhine, absorbing weaker states, or reducing their rulers to a state of vassalage, receiving tribute and homage from hitherto powerful monarchs in their own capitals, and garrisoning their fortresses with his own troops. If Syria were subdued, the rich plains and wealthy towns of Phoenicia, the kingdoms of Israel and Judah (weakened by contests and misgovemment),. would be at his mercy ; and Egypt itself, closely allied by political and family ties with the Jewish people, and recently consolidated and strengthened by the energy and statesmanship of Sheshack (or Shishak) L, might witness with some apprehension the progress westward of the powei-ful and ambitious warriol-king of the great Assyrian empire. The confederated army, commanded by Ben- hadad (mentioned in the inscriptions as Rim- monidai, or King of the city of Rimmon), consisted, according Syri^ to the Assyrian records, of about Confederation. 80.000 men. The leader himself furnished 20.000 soldiers and 1,200 chariots ; the king of Hamath, 10,000 men and about 1,400 chariots and other carriages ; Ahab of Israel, 10,000 soldiers and 2,000 chariots; Adunubahal of 8izhana sent 10,000 men; the Pigyptian king, 1.000 men; and other juinces supplied soldiers and chariots; and 1,000 camels from Arabia were laden with stores. The Assyrian army was about equal in number to that of the allies, and was attended by a baggage train of 19,000 tents and 1,000 camels. On the black marble obelisk, previously mentioned, there is a very lifelike representation of an elephant, but it is uncertain whether it repre- sents one of the presents of strange animals made to the conqueror, or whether (which does not seem to be probable) elephants were trained and used for warlike purposes. Karkar, or Aroer,— a strongly-fortified town, in which a Syrian gamson had been left, the main body withdrawing to the banks of the Arunta, or Orontes, Battle near the — wns, after a vigorous but in- effectual resistance, captured by the Assyrians, who then marched against Benhadad, who had taken up a strong jxisition in broken ground, offering difficulties to an attacking force. The Assyrians advanced steadily, and were received with equal determination. A long and desperate contest ensued, and at length the Syrians wnvered. Then the Assy- rian chariots charged with irresistible fury; the allies fell back in disorder, and w’ere driven into the river, wiierc thousands perished. The loss on each side was great. One account says that Benhadad’s army lost 14,000 men, but another gives the loss as m.ore than 22,000. The Assyrians suffered so severely, that Shal- maneser abandoned his advance, and returned with the remnant of his great host to his owm dominions. Two invasions of Babylonia followed, not for the purpose of annexing territory, but to assist the young king, against wiiom a revolt, headed by his brother, had broken out. After a year of peace, employed in superintending the erection of palaces and public buildings, the restless Shalmaneser again resolved on. invading S^nia, or “ the land of the Hittites.’* 300 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. The Syrian alliance had been broken, but Ben- haclad, although defeated in battle, was still able to inflict such injury on the invader, that twice, in 840 B.c. and in the following year, the victor obtained but small advantage, and retired to prepare for another and more vigorous invasion. In 846 B.C., at the head of 120,000 men, probably the largest army ever raised by the Assyrians, Shalmaneser again crossed the Euphrates, and was again vigorously opi)osed by Benhadad. The Assyrian records claim a vic- tory; but perhaps in this, as in the previous instances, if the Syrians had preserved a history for the perusal of posterity, the other side of the shield might have been presented. In 842 B.C., the disorganized condition of Syria and the kingdoms of Israel and Judea o^ersd new opportunities for carrying out I the town, raised the siege, and marched into the land of Bashan, destroying as he went. Jehu, king of Israel, submitted, and paid tribute of gold and silver and other valuables. This was the first time that the Jewish people had paid tribute to an Assyrian king. The way was now open, and the Great Sea was reached. On the rocks at the mouth of a little stream, the Nahr-el-Kella, or Dog: river, near Beyrout, may still be seen six tablets, bear- ing Assyrian figures, and one of them is that of King Shalmaneser; and the Balawat gates represent the sculpture, before which a cere- mony of worship is being conducted, with priests burning incense on an altar. Above is an inscription, “An image over against the great rocks I caused to be made.” Another group on the bronze gates represents a man in the act of cutting the inscription. VIEW ox MOUXr LEBAXOX. the cherished design of extending the king’s conquests to the Mediterranean Victories m gca-coast. Ahab of Israel had been killed in battle ; the redoubt- able Benhadad of Damascus, the ablest mili- tary commander of his time, was dead; and before his death the Syiaan league had dissolved. Hazael, formerly an officer in the service of Benhadad, now reigned in his stead at Damas- cus, and Jehu had usurped the throne of Israel. Hazael, a soldier of courage, made a stand against the invader at Sanira, a fortified posi- tion on one of the heights in front of the Lebanon range ; but his army was inferior in number, and he was completely defeated, with the loss of 16,000 men and about 1,500 chariots and carriages. Hazael fled to Damascus, where he was besieged ; but Shalmaneser, after a short time spent in unsuccessful attempts to capture T3we and Sidon again paid tribute, and we find animated representations of the incident. The king received the offerings on the seashore in the neighbour- Submission of hood of Tyre. The strongly- X/om fortified cit}’-, with five towers and massive gateways, stands on a rocky island, between which and the mainland ships are passing. They have high prows and sterns, and are propelled by broad curved oars. In the centre are piled the valuable articles form- ing the tribute. Men knee-deep in the surf pull the boats ashore, and carriers bear the bales of cloth and trays and bars of precious metals to the spot where Assyrian soldiers receive them, and marshal a procession. Groups of Tyrian nobles, sailors (wearing the loose woven cap still to be seen worn by the maritime people of the Levant), and othei's, are on the shore. h'RENCU GRAMMAR. 301 Death of Shal* Shalmaneser had now been nearly twenty years on the throne of Assyria. The remainder of his long reign was occupied with a succes- sion of wars, which, however, added little to the extent of his empire or his personal influence. Syria was again visited in 839 B.C., and more tribute taken from Tyre and Sidon. The power of the Assyrian arms was felt in the eastern part of Asia Minor and in Armenia, or the territories lying around the base of Ararat. The last years of Shalmaneser’s life were embittered by the rebellion of his eldest son, who was defeated by Samsi-vul, a younger brother and successor to the crown. The old king died in 825 B.C., having reigned thirty-flve years. He left an empire comprising all the country between the Lower Zab on the south and Lake Van on the north, including the region watered The Noun {continued). — Application. EXERCISE XVI. 1. Qui vous a donne cette fleur ? La dame _ who given this qui a tant de fleurs dans son jardin. 2. Quelle ichich langue parlez-vous ? Je parle deux langues, le speak speak fran^ais et I’anglais. 3. De quel pays viennent from what come ces plantes? Elies croissent dans les pays those grow DAMASCUS. by the Khabour, and the whole of Upper Syria to the Mediterranean. On the east, a portion of Persia was included in the Assyrian dominions. He was a greater warrior than statesman, and ambitious as he was, failed to avail himself of the opportunities afforded him, neglecting to follow up his victories, and allowing his oppo- nents time to recover their strength after the blows he had inflicted. He superseded Nine- veh as the royal residence and capital of the empire by Kalakh, where he built an enormous tower, 167 feet square, still standing. Assur, the ancient capital, was also restored by him. Here we may fitly close a great chapter of Assyrian history, reserving for other articles the annals of the later times of the empire — a subject worthy the attention of every student of the human race. chauds. 4. Nous servira-t-on une perdrix? shall we be helped to On nous a promis trois perdrix. 5. Ou etait we have been promised was son fils? Son fils et ses tilles 4taient en France. ivere 6. Peut-on comprimer un gaz ? Tons les gaz can compress all sont compressibles. 7. Ou est le tableau noir ? compressible Tons les tableaux noirs sont dans la salle all d’etude. 8. Quel age a votre neveu? II est how old is your aussi ag4 que vos neveux. 9. Cinq centimes as as your ne font-ils pas un sou ? Si, et dix centimes do they not make yes font deux SOUS. 10. Fermerez-vouslaporte au make will you shut with the 302 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. verrou? Nous mettrons les deux vcn-ous. 11. shall draw Commentf onne-t-on le pluriel de h ijoii ? On ecrit how does one form writes lyovx, par un x. 12. A-t-on creusd un canal I dug On a creusd deux canaux. 13. riecevez-vous do you get un journal? Non, monsieur, je ne lis pas les sir read journaux. 14. Od avez-vous mis mon cheval ? put Je I’ai mis avec mes chevaux. 15. D’ou vient him ptut with whence comes cet 6ventail 1 De Paris, ou Ton fait de beaux are made beautiful eventails. 16. Le navire a-t-il perdu son lost gouvemail ? II a perdu deux gouvemails dans lost \ 2 e voyage. 17. A-t-il les yeux bleus? Non, il a les yeux gris. 18. Ou se meuvent les astres ? are moving Ils se meuvent dans les cieux (or dans le ciel). are moving 19. Quand les oiseaux commencent-ils leurs when do — commence their travaux? Au printemps. 20. Combien as-tu de fusils ? Je n’ai qu’un fusil de chasse. only EXEECISE XVII. 1. Of which black boards are you speaking? quels parlez-vous 2. Where did you shoot these partridges? avez-vous tire 3. From what countries do these birds come ? quels viennnit 4. How many canals have been dug ? 6. How a-t‘On creases many bolts are there on these doors ? 6. y a^t-il a Are they manufacturing muskets ? 7. From what fabriquent-ils quel garden do these flowers come ? 8. The boats viennent have lost their rudders. 9. I read all the news- perdu leurs lis tous papers. 10. The birds begin their labours in conimencent leurs au spring. 11. Do you get these plants from recevez-vom France ? 12. Do the stars move in the heavens ? se meuvent-ils 13. His sons are older than your daughters. plus age qiie vos 14. What languages can you speak? 1 can quelles parlcz speak three languages, — English, French, and parle Italian. 15. Where did you put the fans and Vitalien avez-vous mis the jewels ? 16. With whom will your nephews avec qui vos come ? 17. Will you shut the doors ? 18. Are viendront-ils fermerez-vous liis eyes (his eyes, are they) grey or blue ? They ou are neither grey nor blue, they are black. 19. ne sont ni ni Five centimes make one halfpenny. 20. That font lady has left these seven newspapers in oi:r laissi notre class-room. EXERCISE XVIII. (In this exercise, which advanced pupils alone should attempt, put the words written in italics into their roper plural.) 1. Tu peux choisir : ou de manger trente ail ou de souflfrir trente hon emtp de gaule (La Fontaine). 2. Les ail, dont le calice est en ombelle, appartienneut a la famille des liliacee. 3. Que la terre est petite a qui la voit des ciel ! (Deli lie). 4. La forme des del de lit ne reste pas tou jours la mSme. o. Se glorifier de la noblesse de ses atenl, e’est chercher dans les racinc les f ruit qu’ou devrait trouver dans les branche. 6. Ses deux aienl assistaient a son mariage. 7. Ce peintre traite les del avec beaucoup de soin. 8. Les alibi sont frequent en matiere criminelle. 9. Les san-benito 6taient des casaque de couleur jaune dont on revetait ceux que I’inquisition faisait conduire au sup- plice. 10. Voila bien de petits 1 11. Les rnauvais ecoliers sont accable de pensum et priv6s d'exeat ; les bon obtiennent des satlfecit et ont, h la fin de Tannee, des prix ou des accessit. 12. Les in-octavo sont r.elie en chagrin, les in-quarto en maroquin, et les in-folio en veau. 13. On donne le nom de chapelet k un certain nombre de grain enfile, sur lesquels on dit des ace, et 4 chaque dizaine desquels il s’en trouve de plus gros sur lesquels on dit des pater. 14. Les carbonaro formaient en Italie une soci^te politique et secrete. 15. Nous avons chantd des Te Deum que bien des meres tradui- ?, 2 JLe,nte.ndeprof undis. 16. L’Eglise multiplie les alleluia pendant le temps pascal. 17. Le tribunal espagnol de I’inquisition a fait ex6cuter environ cinquante mille autodafe. 18. Des ecce-homo bien remarquable ont 4t6 qjcint par le Titien, le Corr6ge, Rembrandt, Rubens, et Callot. 19. Les mots latin qui suivent in- diquent une pri^re ou un chant de I’Eglise par son premier mot : des alleluia, des amen, des ave, des benedicite, des confiteor, des credo, des Kyri6,* des magnificat, des pater, des requiem,* des stabat,* etc. 20. Les dilettante sont des amateur passionne de la musique ; on (itend le terme aux amateur de peinture, de sculpture, ddobjet d’art de toute sorte. Theory {resumed). 1. On the Plural of Compound Nouns. — The difficulties connected with this subject, great as they are by themselves, are rendered all the more serious to the English student from the fact that most grammars written for his use still persist in legislating for nouns of which some ceased being compound more than forty years ago. Among others, beefigue (m.), beccafico, a bird ; contrepoison (w.), antidote ; courtepointe (/.), counterpane ; entrecote, meat between ribs ; passeport, pass- port ; edging ; passerage, pepper- wort ; qmirboire, gratuity, etc., are now written as single words, and offer no difficulty for the plural. On the other hand, garde suisse {fi[. gardes suisses), Swiss guardsmen; cent garde * Of these three words neither the Academic nor 21. IAttr6 give examples in the plural ; according to the general theory of the matter, they should remain unaltered. MUSIC. 303 (pi. cent gardes), a body guard of the late emperor Napoleon III. ; sainte nitouche (pi. saintes nitoucJies), affected prude ; 2Jorte cochere (2^\. portes cocker es), carriage gate, and a few more, are no compounds, although often given as such. This class of words is brought under five rules, of which the first alone appears in this Lesson. First Rule. — When a compound is made up of two nouns, or a noun and adjective, both terms take the sign of the plural : aigue-marine, beryl arc-boutant, buttress basse-cour, farmyard basse-taille, (O.S.) baritone blanc-bec, beardless youth blanc-seing, blank orders chat-huant, screech owl chauve-souris, bat cbou-fleur, cauliflower dame-jeanne, large bottle eau-forte, etching loup-cervier, lynx loup-garou, were-wolf pie-griecbe, magpix^- plate-bande, garden beds pont-neuf, street song sage-femme, midwife taUle-douce, copper plate aigues-marines (Z-. *) arcs-boutants basses-cours basses-tailles (Z.) blancs-becs blancs-seings cbats-huants chauves-souris choux-fleurs dames-jeannes (Z.) eaux-fortes loups-cerviers (Z.) loups-garous (Z.) pies-grieches plates-bandea ponts-neufs sages-femmes tailles-clouces Remark I. — From this rule are excepted : appui-main, maulstick, pi. appuis-main ; bain- marie, chemical bath, bains-marie(^L.) ; checau- ’ leger, Mgh.t horseman (old style), chevau-legers ; grand'mere, gr:2LnA.vaot\ie.v, grand' nieres ; grand' - messe, high mass, grand'messes (one says also grande messe, grandes messes) ; hbtel-Bleu, hospital, hbtels-Dieu ; reine- Claude, green- gage, reines- Claude ; sauf -conduit, safe-con- duct, sauf-conduits ; tcrre-plein, a platform in fortification, terre-pleins : timbre-poste, post- stamp, timbres-poste. Each of these exceptions can be satisfactorily explained. For instance, des appuis-main are supports for the painter’s hand, ; des terre-pleins are places full (plei.ns, adj. agreeing with plural noun understood) of earth; des hotels- Dieu are God’s inns, not inns that are gods, etc. As for grand, it may be observed that adjectives derived from Latin ones in is had only one termination for both masc. and fern. ; grand, from grandis, as above, is a relic of this custom. Remark II — The adjective demi, preceding a noun, remains always uninflected : des demi- 7 t(?Mre 5 ,half-hours ; desdemi-freres,\i.a]i-\yvoVaQV^, etc. In the syntax on adjectives more details will be given on demi. Hemark III. — CoUn-maillard, blind-man’s buff ; quote- part, share ; saisie-arret, claim on moneys ; saisie-execic- tion, distress on goods ; saisie-brandon, distress on crops ; sainte-barbe, powder magazine, etc., appear seldom in the plural ; nor is there an opinion expressed on the point by our authorities. In phrases concocted by grammarians for the sake of exercise, these should follow the rule. * For M. Littre. Where this initial is given, it in- dicates that the Academic has no example in the pi. but permits the inference that M. lAttre's view is endorsed. t Strictly, lanius excubiior {Lin.) It means also a peevish, quarrelsome woman. IX. The Staff Notation.— Tune. The student who has mastered the first four steps in singing may now commence the study of the staff notation, if he has any special occasion to do .so, — as, for instance, if he wishes to join in singing with friends who are using the staff notation, or if he wishes already to begin studying the large stores of music which are only to be found in that notation. But if such reasons do not py'ess upon him, it is better — far better — for his own growth in musical knowledge and power to defer the study of a complex and indirect notation like that of the staff, till after he has gained some knowledge of harmony and musical form. The simple Sol-fa notation has now become a language of music to him, and an instrument of musical thought. To turn aside, at so early a stage, to learn a new musical language and a new mode of musical I’relimmary thought would be a serious inter- co^sel. ruption to the steady flow of progress. It is true that much instruction is to be got from studying an old familiar thing in a nerv lan- guage and from a new point of view. But it must bo an “ old ” and “ familiar ” thing which you thus study. The thing itself must first be firmly and clearly established in mind and ear before you begin to throw it into new lights or call it by new names. Thousands of students have thrown away the study of music itself altogether, because their thoughts were puzzled and their efforts discouraged by having the staff notation thinist upon them too soon. We therefore strongly recommend students who have no pressing occasion for the staff notation to study this and the next five chapters later on. But we do not slight the staff notation. When the sense and meaning of a Bible-passage have been studied in our mother-tongue, it wonderfully helps our thoughts- and clears our conceptions to study it also in French or Ger- man or Greek. Each new language throws its light into some neglected corners of thought. Moreover, the advanced student will find the staff notation necessary not only for the pursuit of extended studies, but also for companion- ship with other students. It wdll be a pleasure to him to find that nothing he has learnt in his Tonic Sol-fa studies, will have to be un- learnt ; but that every piece of Sol-fa know- ledge he has gained is a key to unlock some- thing in the staff notation. Some there are who, having learnt to sing by means of the Tonic Sol-fa notation, have no desire to go further. But a large number wish to go on and become familiar with the staff ^ ^ notation. All real students should endeavour to widen their knowledge in this way, using 304 THE UKIVEESAL IKSTE ECTOR. their knowledge of Tonic Sol-fa as a key to the staff. The purpose of a staff is to uphold and support, and five staves placed one above the other are used to support the The Staff. ^Q^es of the scale, the spaces between, as well as the lines themselves, being utilized for notes. Thus, from a line to the space above it is a single step of the scale {Doh to Ray, Fall to Soli, etc.), from a line to the next line above it is two steps (^Doh to Me, etc.). In speaking of lines and spaces we must reckon from the bottom ; the lowest is the first line, etc. The best way to learn any set of symbols is not to look at them but to write them. We . shall therefore give exercises in wnting. -writing the staff notation. The student can buy ruled music paper at the shops on which to work his exercises. Observe and compare the following, which is given in both notations. On the principle of introducing one thing at a time, we at present mark the place of Boh by a square. Notice that a bar across the staff divides the music into measures, as in the Tonic Sol-fa notation, but that no accent marks are given for pulses or parts of pulses within the measure. The double bar denotes the end. Write the above, {a) placing Boh on the middle line of the staff, and (&) placing Boh in the second space. When the notes foUow each other in step- wise order, it is easy to read them on the staff. But the singer must learn to read notes which skip, and he must do this without the slow process of counting the intervening notes. To do this let him remember the — First Rule for Reading. — If Boh is in a space, 3/(3 and Soli are in the next spaces above, and if Boh is on a line. Me and Soh are on the next lines above. Thus On lines and Boh, Me, and Soh are similarly in spaces. placed; they are either all three on lines or all three in spaces. Bead aloud, without counting from note to note, the Sol-fa names of the notes in the following exercises. = 1 : m 5 Write the above exercises in the Tonic Sol-fa notation. Write them in the staff notation, placing Boh on the third line and in the second space respectively. Write the following in the staff notation, placing Boh on the first line : — |d :s|ni :d|s :m|d :in|s :m|| Second Rule for Reading. — Octaves are dis- similarly placed. If Boh, Me, and Soh are in spaces, the octaves of any of them are on the fourth line above or Octaves, below ; if they are on lines, their octaves are in the fourth space above or below. Let the student examine the following, and learn to measure with the eye the leap of an octave. Write the above in the staff notation, the first with Boh on the first line, the second with Boh in the second space. When the music goes above or below the bounds of the five-line staff, additional lines are added, which are made just long enough to hold the note or Imes. notes required. They are called leger lines. The following is to be read : — Third Rule for Reading. — Ray is recognized as next above Boh, Te as next below ; Fall as next above Me, and Lah as next Ray, Fah, Notice that d f are dissimilarly placed, and d fj similarly placed. Fourth Rule. — Alternate notes of the scale are always similarly placed. Bead at sight the Sol-fa names of the notes, following : — r i v=rtF\ “11 Write the following in the staff notation, Boh on the second line : — : s I f : r I ti : Sj ] d : r | m ; d ] f : 1 [ s : tj ] d H Fifth Rule. — An interval of seven notes (one note short of an octave) is similarly placed. Bead the following : — £ Write the following in the staff notation,Z>o3 in the first space : — 1 d : d‘ I r : 1 J s : Sj | f m | tj : 1 | s : tj | d ASTROXOMY. 305 X. Dueing- the third quarter of the seventeenth century, or from 1650 to 1675, many improve- ments were introduced into practical astronomy, contributing much to its progress, and enabling much more accurate observations to be made. It will be well to notice the more im- portant of these. First of all comes the invention of the astronomical clock, the most precious gift to practical astronomy, and one which has done more than any other to fa- cilitate its grand achievements. Clocks had been known for cen- turies, but they were so untrust- worthy that they were quite unfit for the deh- Astrononucal needs of astro- nomy ; astronomy requires seconds, while these instruments would not give minutes. Galileo discovered that the beats or swings of a pen- dulum were always made in sen- sibly exactly equal times, so that if a clock was constructed to re- gister the number of beats which had been made by a pendulum, it would give an accurate clock. He tried to make a clock on this principle ; but without success, for he could not keep it going. When he set the pendulum going the clock started well enough, but the ])endulum was gradually stopped by the work performed by it in moving the wheels. Galileo and his contemporaries gave up in despair the idea of constructing a clock of this nature. Gassendi, BuUialdus, and others, made use of the pendulum to measure short intervals of time, by actually counting its vibrations from a moment at which the correct time had been ascertained. To find out the exact time at any moment, they had to observe at that instant the altitude of the sun or a star above the horizon, and then calcu- late at what time it was that the sun or star had that altitude. This was a long operation, and they could not be sure of the time to less than half a minute. In 1656, Huygens, the grand genius whose name has been already mentioned on several occasions as a discoverer, added one more to the long list of his contributions to astronomy, i hinking over the imperfections of the ordinary clocks which were kept going by a weight slowly falling, and pondering over the failures VOL. I. of Galileo to make a good clock by the swing of a pendulum, something like the following thought occurred to him ; — “ Here we have an ordinary clock which is driven and regulated by a weight, and will go for a century, but is so badly regulated that it won’t keep regular time ; and there we nave Galileo’s clock, which is driven and regulated by a pendulum,and keeps correct time, but is so badly driven that it won’t go for more than an hour : suppose I put the two together, and drive the clock by the weight as long as I want, and regulate it as correctly as I desire by means of a pen- dulum.” He sidered the matter, and it seemed feasible enough ; so after sundry experiments he con- structed a clock which had its wheel-work driven by a falling weight, and regulated by a pen- dulum which only allowed it to move forward by one tooth of a toothed wheel once during each swing of the pendulum. In this way the pendulum had nothing to do but to swing, and let the vrheels of the clock register the number of swings which had been made, while the weight kept the clock going and the pendu- lum swinging. Hin^gens’ clock was a grand success, and quickly spread everywhere. By regula- ting it once or twice a day by means of the altitudes of several stars, it gave the correct time at any instant to within three or four seconds. During this period, 1650-75, the ordinary or Kepleiian tele- scope came into universal use, and observers were no longer restricted to magnifying powers of 30 or 40 diameters, but were able to use powers three or four times as great. Astronomers, 1 owever, still de- termined the place of the stars in the heavens by the naked eye. 'J’heir instruments were provided with two little spikes or two little plates with small holes in them, and they used these like sights ” on a modern rifle to direct the instrument to the object. They could never be sure of the place of a star by less than 5' or 10' because to the naked eye that space looked so small. In 1665, Hooke and Sir C. Wren constructed astronomical instruments in which a telesco{)c was employed to direct them to the star, instead of using naked eye “ sights.” Picard, a famous French observer, was the first to adapt the telescope to regular astronomical instruments. The centre of the field of view of the telescope was marked by a combination of very thin wires, and when pointing the telescope at the star or other celestial object 20 riG. 31— PHASES oe vexus. 30G THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. the instniment -svas moved until the star vas brought into the centre of the Introduction of of view. This was found to telescopic sight. immense improvement, for as the telescope made the part of the heavens it was pointed at look 60 to 70 times larger, and the star look smaller than with the naked eye, it was found easy to point the telescope, and with it the instrument, with a hundred times greater accuracy. Instead, therefore, of being uncertain by o' whether the instrument was properly directed at the star, they could feel quite certain to two or three seconds. By this grand improvement, whilst observa- tions were rendered very much more accurate, it was found that the difficulty in determining the places of the celestial bodies was entirely changed. It was no longer that they could not properly direct their instruments, but that they were not quite sure at what place they were directing them. When they had properly pointed the instrument at the planet or star — and this was no longer difficult — astronomers wanted to know how many degrees, minutes, and seconds it was from the zenith, or from the north pole, or some other point. To ascertain this, each instrument had a circle or part of a circle divided into degrees and minutes by very fine marks called dh'iHions. A pointer fixed to the telescope moved along this arc of a circle, or graduateil arc as it is termed, and showed how many degrees and minutes the teleseope had moved over, as it was moved from one point to the other. Thus, • suppose the telescope to be pointed instruments. overhead, or to the zenith, and that the pointer marked 51“ 38', and that it was then moved to point to a bright star, and the pointer was at the division indicating 30° 11', we should know that the telescope had moved over 21° 27', or that the zenith distance of the star was 21° 27'. This method was very simple. Now suppose our instrument to have a graduated circle twelve feet in diameter, or a portion of such a circle, it would be a very large instrument, and it would not be very easy to divide the circle with accuracy. But if one degree (say the mark showing 21°) was put a little out of its proper place — a little too far on (say a tenth of an inch wrong), then, instead of being in its proper place, it would be in the place where 21° o' ought to be, and all our obser- vations would be 5' wrong — a large quantity. It was therefore the difficulty of dividing the circles, or as it was called graduating the instruments, which now began to trouble astronomers, and they had to take great care to get their instruments properly graduated. They very soon found still another difficulty — that was in graduating their instruments to fine 1 enough divisions. They could point their in- struments to within several seconds, and they wanted to be able to read their instruments to five or ten seconds — that is to say, to tell from the graduated arc not only how many degrees and minutes the telescope had been moved, but how many Seconds as well, or at least whether it w’as 10' 10" or 10' 1.5". But on an instrument ■v^dth a graduated circle twelve feet in diameter, the divisions indicating the minutes were separated from each other by only one-fiftieth of an inch, so that there was no room for the markings indicating the seconds. .This difficult V was got over of making use of what is called * ® vernier, the Vernier, named after its French in- ventor, Pierre Vernier. Fig. 35 shows the principle of the vernier, a representing the graduated arc of the instrument, and b the arc of the vernier, and this arc is divided into nine divisions, which occup.y the same space as ten divisions of the graduated arc of the instrument. Now suppose the division marked 0 on the vernier corresponds exactly with one of the divisions of the arc of the instrument (say 30° 1 1') then the exact position of the instru- ment will be given by that division, or will be 30° 11'. This will very seldom be the case ; it will nearly always be found that the division 0 of the vernier does not correspond with any division on the arc of the instrument, but will be between two divisions, as shown in the figure, so that though more than 30° 11', it is not 30° 12'. If this be so, see which of the other divisions on the vernier agrees exactly with a division of the arc of the instrument ; in the figure it will be seen to be that marked 3. Then the true position of the instrument is tV of a minute past 30° 11', or 30° 11' 18 . The reason why this is so is easily seen by examining the figure, each division on the vernier gaining of a minute on the arc of the instrument. Every division of the arc, or 1', can be therefore subdivided into ten parts ; or as it is commonly said, the vernier will read to 6". In practice verniers are constructed so that 59 divisions of the vernier correspond to 60 divisions of the arc (or vice versa), and they read therefore to seconds if the arc be divided to minutes ; so by this ingenious invention astronomers were able to make their instruments read to or indicate single seconds of arc. For some time, however, astronomers contented themselves with dividing their instruments to every 5' and reading to every 5", because they found it very difficult to properly graduate circles more finely. Before long astronomers experienced the want of an instrument for measuring small distances in the heavens, such as the diameters PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 307 of the sun and planets, and the distance of stars from each other. This led to Invention of the invention of the micrometer. micrometer, original inventor of this instrument seems to have been Gascoigne, a Yorkshire gentleman, who constructed one in 1638 ; but his invention was not made known for many years after his death. Micrometers were introduced into astronomy by an inde- pendent discoverer, Auzout, a French astrono- mer who described his invention in a letter to the Royal Society in December 1666. The ordinary micrometer, or parallel-wire micro- meter as it is called, consists of a pair of very thin wires (called wires, though generally made of silk fibre or spider’s web) stretched on movable frames, strictly parallel to each other. These wires can be moved nearer together or farther apart by a very fine screw, which has a large head graduated into 100 parts. This instrument is placed so that the wires are in the focus of the eyepiece, and can be seen in the field of view of the telescope at the same time as the celestial body. Bj’- experiment it is ascertained how far ten turns of the screw will move the wires : suppose it is 8^-' (or 500"), then one turn will correspond to 50", and one- hundredth part of a turn to Suppose then it is found that it requires the head of the screw to be moved 81 divisions to separate the wires by the same amount as the diameter of Jupiter — that is to say, so that if one wire is made to touch one edge of Jupiter the other wire will touch the other edge — then the diameter of Jupiter will be 81 x or 40’ 5". IX. Islands and Continents (^continued'). A VERY large number of islands, especially in the Indian and Pacific oceans, are built up by coral animals, belonging to the Coral order Polypipera, or Polypi— by formations. naturalists classed as be- longing to the Actinozoa. The coral — named from the Greek KopaWtou ( Koprj “a maiden,” and dXs “ the sea”), maiden or daughter of the sea — is a jelly-like creature adapted for a sedentary mode of life, with no locomotive organs, but provided with a circle of retractile tentaculse (slender thread-shaped organs, capable of being extended and withdrawn, and very sensitive) around the surface of the mouth, and with a central gastric cavity, or stomach, below and around which are pairs of fleshy platesextending to the sides of the polyp. Within these plates is secreted the hard matter known as coral, consisting of carbonate, and when the animal dies the soft part decays, and these external skeletons (if such a term be allowable) remain, uniting to form the masses of coral, which on examination will be found to consist of millions of starlike or radiating forms, each the secretion of one polyp. The coral polyp produces eggs and young, but some species multiply also through a process of budding, forming what is known as branching coral ; the new product beginning as a small prominence on the side of an old coral, the mouth and tentacles soon appear, the progress of calcareous accumulation is carried on, and in time buds are seen in their turn on these new growths, and so the process is continued. The branching form of some species of coral, especially the red coral found chiefly in the Mediterranean, Red Sea and Persian Gulf, is well known. Other species do not produce the branching form; but the star- shaped polyps QAiq astrcea} unite, putting forth young ani- mals in the spaces between the older ones, and maintaining a hemispherical form of the mass, which in some cases reaches the dimensions of twelve feet in diameter, accumulated by at least 100,000 of the larger corallets (or individual corals), and as many as 5,000,000 of the smaller species. The “ brain coral ” is a mass of this kind, exhibiting certain peculiarities, and so named from the rather fanciful resemblance the surface exhibits to the convolutions of the human brain. It is nearly spherical in shape, and traversed by ridges formed by the regularly arranged tenta- cles of the animals, tl*e mouths being visible along the furrows. The corallet can only live near the surface, and cannot exist if left dry. All the masses of coral, therefore, above the level of the sea, and all at a greater depth than about twenty-five or thirty fathoms, are dead coral — that is, accu- mulations of the calcareous secretion, the animal itself being dead. The question natu- rally arises. How, then, could they have been formed 1 As the coral cannot float, and as it is known to exist at the deepest parts at which, the ocean has b^en sounded, some powerful^ cause must exist to produce such a result. The explanation is most probably afforded by the volcanic agency which we have seen to be so active and potent. There have been subsi- dences by which the coral formations have gradually been lowered into the sea. In some cases the living animals have continued their work on the tojr of the receding mass, and so maintained the level. The phenomenon of upheaval has chiefly produced the elevation of the coral mass above the surface of the sea, but the sea itself has contributed to the results by breaking off and washing together large blocks, . and, by the tremendous force of the waves,, throwing them in confused masses on each other. An exposed surface thus formed is rapidly increased in extent. Myriads of marine animals deposit their shells, which, as ... well as the coral, are ground up by the action of the waves, and All up the interstices formed by the irregular masses, and the heat of the sun in the tropical regions splits up the more solid blocks. In time a height is reached at which the new island is protected from the sea ; and then, unless too far from any land, sea-birds rest, and their guano contributes to the formation of a THE UXIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR.. vJOS fertile soil, in conjunction with the vegetable matter contributed by the driftwood, leaves and stems washed by the ocean currents to the new shores. Seeds, especially of cocoa-nut and other palms, accumulate; smaller seeds are contributed by birds; and in time the coral \ blocks are covered with a rich soil, well wooded ■ and grassed, and fit for the occupation of man, ( and having sands of dazzling whiteness, com- ' posed of powdered coral and shells on the sea-shores. Coral islands frequently exhibit a remarkable formation, and are described as AtolU (from a . , , Malay word), or lagoon islands. of a circu- lar, oval or irregular barrier, en- closing a lake, which is in some instances of very large dimensions, one in the Maldlve Islands being eighty miles long by nearly twenty miles in the shorter diameter. The belt of land enclosing these sheets of water is seldom more than half a mile in breadth, and is generally fertile with cocoanut trees. Access is afforded by various openings to the central lagoons, the waters of which are beautifully clear and still, beirg protectc:' from disturb . ing influences, and the depth close to the precipitous sides of the enclosing reef is always great. The entrances are never on the wi n d w a r d side, where the reef is commonly higher and wider, and the lagoons therefore make secure harbours. These atolls are in some instances solitary, but more frequently grouped in archipelagos. In the Indian Ocean they extend in groups, including the Laccadive and Maidive islands, which stretch for nearly 800 miles, in a double row, and contain about 12,000 islands, from the ex- tremity of the Indian peninsula southwards considerably across the equator. The Caroline archipelago (including eighty-four islands), north of New Guinea, comprises sixty groups of atolls, extending for about 1,000 miles, over twenty degrees of longitude and five of lati- tude. The Low archipelago, in the Pacific, is a collection of about eighty atolls, 840 miles long, and 420 miles in its shorter diameter. Between these two great archipelagos, about 4,000 miles apart, are an immense number of islands, nearly all of the atoll formation. East of the Society Islands is an assemblage of eighty atolls, mostly circular. In some places reefs of coral, like those forming atolls, encircle islands of volcanic for- mation, at a distance of two or three miles from the shore. Instances of this formation are found in the Society Islands, including the Tahiti group, in the South Paeific, where the islands, of volcanic origin, rise in ii-regular conieal form to a great elev^ation — in Tahiti to 7,000 feet — with a narrow belt of fertile ground between the mountains and the sea, and are enclosed by coral reefs, which, indeed, form large atolls, with islands in the centre. There are openings in the reefs giving access to the islands. Two islands of the group, Raiatea and Tahaa, are enclosed within one reef, of an irregular oval shape. Barrier reefs are w'alls of coral, extending in straight lines in front of the shores of conti- nents or large islands, not encircling the latter, as in the instances above mentioned, and gene- rally at a greater distance from the coast. There is such a reef, 400 miles long, off the coast of New Caledonia, in the South Paeific ; but the most extensive formation of the kind is the Great Barrier reef, a narrow ridge, and extending for 1,100 miles from lat. 9° 15' S. to lat. 24“ 36' S., generally parallel to the east coast of Australia, but varying in distance from the shore from twenty to seventy miles. There are, however, openings by which vessels enter the in- terior ocean, and reach the ports on the eastern side of Australia. Fringe reefs is the name given to narrow belts of coral immediately ad- joining the coast, with no intervening lagoons. The coral formations we have described lie mostly within the zone of lat. 30° N. and 30° S., but it will be shown, in the series of articles on Geology, that in this country there are extensive strata, known as the Coral Rag, consisting of beds of petrified coral inter- stratified with oolitic limestone. Indeed, the chalk formations of this country are in some degree allied to the coral formations. It is now believed that the coral polypi per- form an important function in purifying the waters of the ocean, and main- taining the uniformity of its of the composition. Rivers are con- tinually pouring soluble impuri- ® ties into the sea, and lime salts are formed. As the fresh water alone is carried off by evaporation, there would be an injurious accu- mulation did not the coral polypi and marine shell fish carry off the superfluity, and so preserve the balance in this department of nature. They perform, in fact, an office analo- SCEXE IX BORNEO. iEITIIMETIC. 309 gous to that of vegetation, which keeps down the excess of carbonic gas in the atmosphere ; and “ the great ocean currents spread the water among the coral groves as the wind conveys the air through the forest.” Islands are generally classed as continental and oceanic (or pelagic, “ belonging to the deep sea”). The former are those Islands. which, from their proximity, and geological and other peculiarities, show a con- nexion with the continents near which they are situated. Oceanic, or pelagic, islands are at a distance from the mainland, with which they have no physical connexion, and are nearly in every instance of volcanic or coralline forma- tion. The Pacific Ocean contains more islands of both kinds than any other part of the world. ArcMpeV agos are seas containing clusters of islands, the word being frequently applied to the island groups themselves. The principal archipelagos are : Continental Islands — the Greek, Indian, and the Antilles (commonly known as the West Indies) ; Oceanic Islands— the Low, Caroline, Friendly, Society, and Fijian groups in the Pacific. The three largest island masses are Australia, Borneo, and Mada- gascar. The great mass of land in the eastern hemi- sphere consists of Asia and Europe (physically one continent), and Africa, Continental connected only with Asia by masses. narrow Isthmus of Suez. It extends over about lO.o degrees of latitude, from the North-east Cape (Sievero-Vostotchnii), in Siberia (lat. 78° 16' N.) to Cape Agulhas, the extreme point of South Africa (lat. 31° 15' S.), and over more than 207 degrees of longitude, from Cape Verde, the most westerly point of Africa (long. 17° 33' W.). to the Eastern Cape of Asia (long. 170° W.) ; between which two points the distance is about 11,000 miles, giving the longest continuous stretch of land on the surface of the globe. It is noticeable that the northern extremity of Europe and the southern extremity of Africa are nearly under the same meridian of longitude, and the same observation applies to Asia, the North-east Cape and the extremity of the Malacca peninsula both lying near the meridian 100° E. Another noticeable peculiarity is that nearly all the principal promontories of the world stretch ina southerly direction — almost the only cxcejitions being Denmark in Europe, and Yucatan in Central America, both of which point northward, and the peninsulas of Brit- tany in France, and of Alaska in the north- west of America, which have a westerly direc- tion. There is a certain similarity of conformation between the southern peninsulas of Europe and Asia : Spain and Arabia, Italy and India, Greece and the Malacca peninsula, with their archipelagos, may be instanced; and there is a degree of parallelism between portions of the western coasts of Europe and Africa and the eastern coasts of North and South America, which has led to the suggestion, possibly fanci- ful, that at some reniote period a great con- vulsion of nature separate(l the two masses of land, forming an immense valley now occu- pied by the Atlantic Ocean. But there is a striking dissimilarity in the general contour of the continental masses in the eastern and western hemispheres. In the former, the pre- vailing direction of the land is from east to west; in the latter, from north to south. In another respect, there is a similarity between the eastern and western continental masses. Africa is united to Asia by the narrow Isthmus of Suez, and South America to North America by the Isthmus of Panama. The outline of the great continents varies considerably. Europe, Southern Asia, and North America are very irregular in shape, with numerous penin- sulas, bays, and narrow inlets. Africa, South America, and Australia (which, although an island, may, from its great size, be considered as a continent) are more compact. The pro- portions between the superficial areas and lengths of coast-line are therefore considerable. The following are the dimensions, as nearly as it is possible to ascertain them : — Area in Length of square miles. coast-line. I Europe .... 3,800,000 . . 19,500 I Asia 17,000,000 . . 33,000 j Africa .... 11,800,000 . . 16,000 I America, North . 7,897,741 . . 22,800 America, South . 7,241,000 . . 16,000 Australia . . . 3,000,000 . . 8, COO XI. Compound Subtraction. Compound Subtraction is the process of ' finding the difference between two compound j quantities of the same kind. For example : subtract £2 3^. ^d. from £7 18,s. ^dd. It is clear that the whole difference will be made up of the differences of the several parts. n , The difference of the pence is 7 18 V shillings is 155.; .3 ^ and that of the pounds is £5. Thus the whole difference is ! £5 15 . 9 . 'U. But it often happens that the number of some denomination in the lower line (or quan- tity to be subtracted from the other) is larger than the corresponding number in the upper quantity, and therefore cannot be subtracted from it. How are we to get over this difficulty ? I By the same principle which we had to make use ' of when we met a similar difficulty in simple ; subtraction. That principle was, that the dif- : fercnce between two quantities is not altered I by increasing or diminishing both quantities by the same number. Now let us take an example, and apply this principle. 8uj)pose we want to subtract £2 18,9. 9^£ from £7 3-9. 6^7. 310 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Here we can’t take 9<7. from %d. But let us ^ j add \'2d. to the pence in the upper ^ o’ p quantity, and 1a*. to the shillings ^ ,Q f. in the lower, and then subtract. According to our principle the ditference will be unaltered. We have now £7 3 18 in the upper line, and 2 19 9 in the low'er. We can now subtract the pence, but we cannot yet subtract the shillings, as 19 is greater than 3. But now let us add 20s. to the shillings in the top line, and £ 1 to the pounds in the lower. Here again, according to the ])rinciple, we have done nothing to alter the difference of the two quantities. The original £ s. d. quantities have now become. . . 7 23 18 and by the addition of £1 Is. to 3 19 9 each of them. ^Ve can now subtract the num- 4 4 9 bers in each of the three deno- minations. The difference of the pence is M . ; that of the shillings is 4s. ; and of the pounds is £4. The whole process is generally done in the following way : — 9fl?. from ^d. I cannot. But 9^7. from 18^. leave *i)d. put down 9^7., and £ s. d carry 1 to the 18s. 7 3 6 18 + 1 = 19. 19s. from 3.y. I 2 18 9 cannot, but 19 from 23 leave 4.?. put dowm 4s., and carry 1 to the 4 4 9 2 pounds. 2 1 = 3. £3 from £7 leave £4. .’. put down £4. This process will be found to be equivalent to the following rule for Compound Subtrac- tion : — 1. Set the less number under the greater, so that the numbers of the same denomination shall be in the same column. 2. Subtract each number in the low^er line (beginning at the lowest denomination) fi*om the number immediately above it, if it be pos- sible so to do, and set the remainder under- neath. 3. If it be not possible so to do, add to the upper number as many units of the same de- nomination as wall make one unit of the next liigher denomination. Subtract as before, set ld. ; .*. write down and carry ^d. to the next pro- duct. The next product is 9^?. x 9, i.e. 8 HZ.; adding the 6) 18 pounds sugar at 2\d ; 13 pounds coffee at 1,9. 1+7. ; 17 pounds tea at 3s. 2+7. ; 29 pounds butter at 1 , 9 . 1+7. (6‘) 150 cigars at 5+7. each ; 230 cigars at 4+7. each; 1500 cigarettes at +7. each; 78 pounds tobacco at 7,9. <6d. a pound, 4. A bankrupt agrees to pay his creditors 7,9. 6r7. in the pound. To one man he owed £525 ; to another £7650 ; and to a third £18950. How much did each creditor get, and how much did each lose ? 5. A, B, and C are three boys working in a factory. A receives Od. a day, B Is. 2d. a day, C Is. 6r7. a day, except on Saturdays, when they get only half these wages. If tliey work all the year, except a fortnight in summer, ho.v much will each earn? and how much more 312 rilE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. does C get than !> and A ? (N.B. — The year has 52 weeks.) 6. The cost of travelling by rail is about 1 d. per mile third class, and about 2d. per mile lirst class. What will it cost to travel first class for 36 hours at the rate of 21 \ miles per hour ? How much would be saved by travelling third instead of first class ? 7. A certain passenger train requires 2 guards at Is. 6r/. a day ; two engine drivers at 6.s. a day, and a stoker at bs. a day. The wear and i tear of the rolling stock may be estimated at £7 10.9. 8d. per day, and other expenses con- nected with the working at £23 18,y. IH/. 152 head of cattle are carried at the rate of 13.9. 4d. a head. How much must all the passengers pay for tickets, so that the balance of the day’s work may be £153 10^. 6d. for the Railway Co. ? THE ICVVX CALL AT LEIPSIC. X. The Reign of the Empeeor Charles V. Ra?! II— {continued). On the 13th of December, 1545, the cele- brated Church Council of Trent was opened. It had been assembled at the urgent requisition of the em- ^Proceedings of peror, nominally for the pur- pose of putting down heresy and ' securing the supreme power of the Church ; Ansivers: 1. £72 10^. P<7. ; £82 18.9. 0d.\ £88 Is. l\d.\ £93 os. £113 VJs. \)d. ; £626 18.9. 7^d. 2. £208 2^. e^d. ; £11464 2 . 9 . O^d. ; £7636 ISs. 9frZ. ; £558308 19^. Of <7. ; £1429 8,9. lOf^. : £16195 Is. ; £42387 8^. Of rZ. ; £4801 12^. Sd.] £609007 I8s. O^d. ; £362287 5.9. 7^d. 3. (a) £3 15^. \l\d.] (h) £6 8^. 7\d.) (c) £38 8s. l^d. 4. They receive £196 17s. 6<7., £2868 15,9 , and £7106 5s. respectively, and lose £328 2s. 6r/., £4781 5.9,, and £11843 1.5s., respectively. 5. A gets £10 6s. 8d., B gets £16 Os. lOrZ , and C £20 12s. 6^7. — C gets £10 6,9. ?>d. more than A, and £4 11s. 8d. more than B. 6. £8 .5s.; saving by travelling third class, £4 2,9. Qd. 7. £85 .5s. od. but Paul HI. saw that it was Charles’s design to limit the papal authority, and to set himself up as the temporal head of the Church ; to build up the imperial throne anew, on the model of the medieeval days, when the Othos could control the Church and the State alike ; and to make the revived authority hereditary in his family by the succession of his son. Consequently the Council, though it was to deal with German affairs, was composed almost exclusively of Spaniards and Italians, The Vulgate was declared to be the only orthodox Bible, and tradition was placed on a par with Holy Writ ; the seven sacraments were main- tained, and the efficacy of works was asserted. In every point a position so antagonistic to the Protestants was taken up, that recon- ciliation became impossible. In spite of the emperor’s protest, Paul gave the utmost pub- HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 313 licity to these hostile proceedings ; and in 1547 he even transferred the Council to Bologna, though some prelates, in obedience to Charles, continued to sit at Trent, Once more the papacy and France formed a union against Germany. Charles determined to undertake the settle- ment of the questions at issue. At a splendid diet held at Augsburg, he caused ne Interim articles of accommodation be- T h S 48 ’ tween the two creeds to be drawn ® ’ ' up, under the title of “ The In- terim of Augsburg,” to remain in force until the conclusion of the Council of Trent. Another interim — that of Leipsic — was prepared for Saxony, at the request of the Elector Maurice, by the gentle and conciliatory Melanchthon, who even incurred much blame from his zealous followers, by conceding many points as in- different {uHaplwvori) ; and Saxony accepted unlimited power, and send Maurice himself to share the imprisonment of John Frederick of Saxony and of Philip of Hesse. The proud spirit of Maurice revolted, moreover, against the manifest distrust and ill-will of the princes, who looked upon him as a traitor to his coun- try and his faith ; and now there was an opportunity of setting himself right with the public opinion of Germany. The emperor was evidently working to make Germany a part of a huge despotic empire, in which the princes would be mere creatures of his will, deprived of all power of independent action ; how could he better vindicate himself with all than by coming forward as the champion of his country against imperial encroachment, and by securing at once political and religious freedom ? Ac- cordingly he took his measures with consum- mate skill anh. duplicity. He undeitook to MARKET-PLACE AT EISLEBEN. the Interim as law. Alarmed at the signs of the times, Paul III. submitted to the emperor re -transferred the Council to Trent, and ad- mitted the representatives of evangelical com- munities to its debates : when, to the infinite surprise of Charles, Maurice of Saxony suddenly stood up against him as a dangerous enemy. The causes of this enmity were not far to seek, though they had not entered into the emperor's calculation. Iffaurice, Revolt of far-seeing man, understood that Mauriceof elevation to the dignity of xony, j ^vould avail him little if the emperor succeeded in making himself supreme over Church and State and annihi- lating the spiritual and temporal liberties of Germany. A sceptre, snatched with an un- ruly hand, must be as boisterously maintained as gained.” Charles might any day throw down the ladder by which he had risen to execute against Magdeburg the decree of the Chamber ; and by leading a force to besiege that chief stronghold of Protestantism he lulled the vigilant and suspicious emperor into complete security. But wdiile professing the utmost zeal against Charles’s enemies, he secretly entered into negociations with various German j^rinces — the margraves John of Kiis- trin, and John of Brandenburg-Kulmbach, and others ; and, more important than all, he effected an arrangement with Henry 11. of France for help against the emperor, in the Convention of Friedwalde, by the cession to France of the episcopal towns of Metz, Toul, Verdun, and Cambray. Thus, at the end of many years of arduous and incessant work, the edifice of imperial power Charles had laboured to erect was threatened by the man on whose services he counted to uphold it. 314 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Diphthongs— (§ 62 conchtded). oua=a prop, diph, in bivouac (bi-voua7i or bi-vak), Edouard {e-douar'), Edward, pouah {^poud), fie ! It forms a d. sjdl. in douane {dou-an'^^QXCiXGmAiQv&^yfouacejouarjetpouacre, rouage, rouan, rouaytne, etc. Also in ouate. wadding, in connection with which observe the optional aspiration of ou : acheter dc la ouate or de V ouate; une robe doublee de ouate, or d'ouate. ouai = a prop. diph. in o^iais hallo 1 a d. syll. in douaire and derivatives (now dou-er , formerly dou-ar"), dower. one = an imp. diph. at the end of a word : joue ( 211011 ), cheek ; roue (rou), wheel. Oue followed by r = d. syll. : jouer (jou-e), to play, rouer (rou-d), to beat ; oue followed by ^== d. syll. : jouet {jou-e), toy, rouet {rou-e), spinning- wheel, (fou-'e), whip. In verbal forms, as je jouerai, tu rouerav}, etc., and in words de- rived from verbs in ouer, the e remains quite mute, and is sometimes replaced by ^ placed over u. denouement, or denoument (de-nou-man), un- ravelling. devonement, or devoument (de-vou-man'), devotedness. cnjouement, or cnjoument (an-jou-maii), play- fulness. enrouement, or. enrollment (an-rou-man), hoarseness. ouen = a d. syll. : Rouen (rou-an')^ sa int- Ouen '(^ou-an). ouhai = a prop. diph. in prose : souhait and derivs. (soue), wish ; in verse say sou-e. oui= a prop. diph. in baragouiner (goni-7ie), to speak gibberish, fouine (fouin'), pole-cat, oui, yes. It presents a d. syll. in verbs in aillasson, straw mat, pd-liasson, neYer pd-yasson. 5. In poetry liquid I is subjected to no modi- fication from the rule indicated above; but with the final liquid lie the following points must be observed: — (a) At the end of a poetical line the articulation I of lie is just discernible, not more : “ Approchez, et venez, cle toutes vos oreilles, (o-re-liS) Prendre part au plais r I’entendre des merveillea." (mer-ve-liS) (Moliere, Lph Femmes Havantes.) [Approach, and, with all your power of attention, come and take a share in the deliyht of hearing wonders.'^ {h) In the middle of a poetical line, would require to be a little more distinctly marked than at the end, but still without exaggeration : “ Ayez poux la cadence une oreille severe.” (o-re-lie) (Boileau, L'Art poUique . ) [Have a strict ear for rhythm.^ Compare with it the following lie, which is liquid, and has the articulation of the Z fairly marked: “ Le vers le mieux rempli, la plus noble pensee, Ne pent plaire a I’esprit quand V oreille est hlessee." (Boileau, L’ Art poet ique.) [The richest line, the noblest thought, cannot please the mind if the car be shocked (l'o-re-lie-ble-see).'\ 6. In singing, lie is submitted to the same rules as in poetry, with the exception that it is more fully articulated, and dwelt upon to the full value of the note set to it : -Tzrr. — — \ 1 r * — 1 r ^ ^ ~ JL. — ri I- — ^ — 4- L_ ^ 1 w Sj* 1 : H — ^ F: “ - ^ / O 1 h - - Bas de beau - te pa - reil - le A I’ob - jet de mes re - tie feux, Et I’au - ro - re ver - meil - le me - Ue Bril - le moins que ses yeux, etc. hri - Ue 7. Here is an all but complete list of words ending with the single liquid Z: a. Termination il = i...e, as fenil, hay-loft (some pronounce feni'); mil, millet (La Fon- taine articulates the Z of this word in the fol- lowing: Jc la crois fine, dit-il ; 3Iais le moindre grain de mil Ferait Men mievx man afifaire. Fables I. 20: mil here is made to rhyme with iV) ; peril, peril. Other words in il either arti- culate Z, or make it quite mute ; see § 66. h. Termination ail = d...i: hail, lease; he?’- eail {her-l{d...i), sheepfold, etc. c. Termination eil = e...i: conseil, advice; oi'teil, toe; sommeil, sleep, etc. d. Termination neil = en...i (eit, open — see §’37, c): accenil (ali-ev...i), welcome; ccrcveil (ser-heu. . A), coffin, etc. e. Termination enil = eu...l (as veil above): hovvrenil, bullfinch ; ehevrevil, roebuck, etc. /. Termination oeil = eu...i (as evil and ?^: mir atlein." (Sr fauftein ber ryck'-toom meer al-line' airr korvf-te in dare wealth for me alone.” He bought in the 0tabt ?eben^mittet unb Sein ein, tpat in statt lay' -bens-mit-tel nnt rine inc, takt in town provisions and wine in, put into ben SSein @ift unb feprte bann suruefj® dane rine gift 'tint kayr' -te dann tsoo-ruek' the wine poison and turned then back. Sifg er in bie |)bpte trat,” fprangen alss airr in dee koek'-le trat sprang'-en When he into the cave stepped, sprang bie anbern auf ipn ju unb fliepen ipm dee an'-dern on'jf een tsoo nn t stcess'-en eem the others on him (towards) and thrust him ipre ©olcpe in ba^ ^er^, bap er tobt eed-e dol'-cke in das kayrts dass airr tote their daggers into the heart, that he dead ju Soben'2 fret |)ierauf fe^ten fie tsoo bok'-den feel lieer-oreff zetstf-en zee to the ground fell. Hereon set they ficp pin, apen — tranlen ben zich kin akss'-en trank'-en dane themselves down, ate, drank the bergifteten 28ein, unb flarben unter ben fer-gift' -e-ten rine lint starrb'-envntf-er dane poisoned wine, and died amid the fepreeflieppen*® 0cpmer5en. Siingi! bor ben skrek' -Uek-sten skmairr'-tsen rinngs fore dane most terrible pains. Around before the aufgepduften 0cpd^en fanb man “ atte brei onf -ge-hoiff-enshet' -sell f and man al'-ledry heaped up treasures found one all three tobt. tote. dead. @ott Idpt bie Sbfen pier auf (Srben Gott lesst dee boe'sen kcerr oref ayrr' -den God lets the bad here on earth Dft ipre eignen |) enter'® merben. offt ear' -re eig'-nen ken'-kerr rairr'-den Often their own executioners become. EEMAEKS OJT THE FOEEGOING STUDY. * There are two verbs, to murder: SUorfccn, morr'-den to murder Sep mortete, gemortet, is general, thus— vauben unh morr'-de-te ge-morr'-det row'ben I murdered murdered merten, to rob and murder ; ermorten, crmcrfccte, ermorbet, has a special meaning : einen 3Jlann evmorten, to murder a man. “ 3)er .^aufmann, the merchant, from faufen, to buy, dare kowff-mann and mann, man — the buying man. ®ic >§cple, from the adjective pop!, hollow, a hollow dee hoeh'-le hole place. “ Qliufte is the imperfect of the verb ntuffen, to be musst-te mues'-sen obliged ; muptc, ■was obliged. ® SeSen^mittel, from bag Seben, life, and bag 3l2tttet, lay'-hem-mit-iel dass lay'-hen dass mit'-tel the means, means of life. ® 2)er SBurfep, the lad, is used in many senses in dare boorsh German, and is the name applied to themselves by the German students, who call themselves 23urf(pen, lads, and the outer world iPptltfler, or Philistines. In our Phi-lisst'-er story the word 33urfcp is used as a term of contempt. ’ The prefix et often has the meaning thoroughly, or “to the death.” ® teepen, to stab ; erpedpen, to stab to stech'-en death ; fepieffen, to shoot : erfepieffen, to shoot to death ; sheess'-en trinfen, to drink; ertrinfen, to drown (drink to the death). “ ‘licrgtpen, imp. ^ergipete, p. part. vergiPet, from ba§ ferr-gift'-en ferr-gft'-e-te ferr-gifft'-et ®ip/ the poison. The en as a termination here implies an action, as in English to lighten. * SBlctben, imp. bbeb, p. part. geblteBen, to remain; an hly'-ben bleep ge-blee'-ben irregular verb. GERMAN. 319 3ucucf, literally io hack; from jU, to, and ter tsoo'-ruek dure Siuefen, the back. ruek'-en ** Sretfn, trat, getreten. From this word comes the tray'-ten traht' ge-tray'-ten to tread trod trodden expression trade-winds, given to those winds that always pursue the same path or direction. Old English authors wrote : The wind blew “tread” (the German ter 5Iritt, the step) . 2)er ^oten, besides the ground means the foun- dare boh'-den dation, the bottom on which a thing is built up. 33oben=(o6, fathomless or bottomless. There is a boh'den-lohss German proverb: bat goltenen Sofcen" hand' -vairrk hat gol'-de-nen hoh'-den (Handicraft has a golden foumlation). Dec ®^rccf (noun), or tec Sdjrecf en, fright or terror dare shrek fe^cedUd) (adjective), frightful or terrible; [t-tirecfliclifl, shrek'-h'ch shrek'-Uchst the superlative, literally frightfulZes^ or terribks^ (most terrible). “ Q)ian (with one h) is an indefinite pronoun, answer- man ing to the French “on” and to the English one, or they. “ On dit,” one says, or they say (it is said); in German 9)Jan jagt. ^ “ Dec -^cnfec originally meant the hangman, from dare hen'-kerr l^dngen, to hang. It is now applied to designate an executioner generally, as formerly in England: “As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands.” — Shakespeare. Exeecise on the Foregoing Study. (The sentences to be written down in German, and then compared with the German version given below, which may be learnt by heart, for the sake of the vocabulary, sequence of verbs, etc.) Three robbers murdered a merchant. They plundered his money. Then they sent the youngest to buy provisions. They said : “ When he comes back we will stab him (to death). Why shall we divide with him?” The young robber thought : “ If all these treasures were mine I I will poison my two comrades, then I shall have all.” He bought provisions in the town, and he put poison into the wine. When he came back the others stabbed him (to death). Then they ate ; and they drank of the wine, and died. Thus let ([tie^) God the three bad (ones) become their own executioners. German Version. ®re{ 3?duber ermorbeten cinen dr?/ roi'-herr err-mori'' -dc-ten I'-nen Itnn'ff'- mann. 0ie blunberten fein @etb. ©ann mann zee plnen' -dcr-ten zinc f/elt dann fc^ieften fte ben ^ungflen, ?eben^mittel shili'-ten zee, dane yitenr/' -sten lay' -hcns-itiit-tel ju faufen. ©ie fasten: 2Sann er ^uriicf tsoo kow'-fen zee saach'-ten vann airr tsoo'-riick !ommt, ibotten tt)ir {I)n erfleci^cn. hovimt V alien veerr cen err-^tecE -en vass foHcn luir mit i|m tt)e{ten? ©er j'unge zoV-lenvecrr mit eevi tij'-len dare yvng'-e 3?auber bac^te: 2Benn aUe biefe ©c()d^e roi'-herr dach'-te venn al'-le dee'-ze sheif-se mein maren! tbitf meine gmet tone= ?)iine vairr'-eti iclt xill vi?j'-ne tsvy lia-me- raben bergiften, bann merbe ic^ ahe^^ rail! -den ferr-(j\ftf -en dann vairr'-de iclt aV -le^ts: ^laben. Sr fanfte ^eben^mittel in ber ha' -ben airr Uowjf' -te laij'-heais-mit-tel in dare ©tabt iinb er ti;at ©ift in ben Sein. 211^ statt unt airr taht gift in dane f ine alss er ^uritef fam, erfiad;en ii;n bie Sinbern. a irr tsou'-riieh kain err-.dack'-en een dee an -dern ©ann alien fie, unb fie tranfen bon bem da?in alls' -sen zee wit zee trank' -en fan dame SSein, unb jlarben. ©o fiep ©ott bie brei vine unt starr'-hen zo leess gott dee drij 33bfen iiire eigenen |)enfer merben. boe'sen eer'-e i'-ge-nen lienk' -er vairr' -den. The foregoing story is a very old one. It is told at length, and with inimitable pic- turesqueness of description, by Chaucer, in the Canterbury Tales, where it forms “ The Par- doner’s Tale.” Speaking of the design of the young robber, the father of English poetry tells, us how “ At the last the fiend, our enemy. Put in his thought that he should poison buy. With which he mighte slay his fellows tway.” IX. It will be seen, by the table given in our last article (p. 289), that the stratified rocks are divided into four principal groups: primary y. secondary, tertiary, OivA post-ter- Palaeozoic tiary or quaternary, according to mesozoic, and their order of succession — the pri- cainozoic strata, mary being the oldest, and the post- tertiary the newest. The terms 2 ^<^^^ozoic, mesozoic, and neozoic (or cainozoic') express the facts that th(' first group contains the remains of “ancient’” life ; the second those of a middle period; and the third of new or recent life.* Under these main divisions there are further groups, to which names have been given, sometimea derived from localities where they were' first recognised, or where they are to be found well developed, and sometimes fi’om the mineral character of the principal members — or for other reasons. These smaller groups are again subdivided, and have been named upon a similar principle — that is, according to the fancy of the individual who first described or classified them. It was all but inevitable that it should be so. A perfectly satisfactory nomen- clature has yet to be devised, and is likely to. remain a desideratum for many years yet to. come. In the meantime, it is necessary for the student to remember that, in one very important sense, all divisions are entirely arbi- trary. English geologists, for instance, have * From TraAaiov, “ ancient ”; /otecro?, “ middle ”; Katvo^: and veos, “ recent” ; and fwor, “ a living creature.” 320 THE EXIVERSAL IXSTRUCTOR. agreed to dra^v a line between the life of the jiuriod when the upper chalk was formed, and that which is represented by the fossils con- tained in the beds which overlie it in the London Basin. The former are included in the secondary or mesozuic series ; the latter are designated tertiary or neozoic strata. The reason for this is, that there is an apparent break at this point in the continuity of life ; but this break is only local, not universal. Intermediate formations are known to exist in other parts even of Europe ; and no geolo- gist now believes that there was a general destruction of life on the globe at the close of the cretaceous period and a new creation at the beginning of the tertiary. So with the other formations. Each of them indi- cates local change of condition, and with each we obtain fossils representing a portion deposits of a different kind must have been forming on the shores and in shallower water. Somewhere there was dry land, with lakes or inland seas and rivers of larger or smaller dimensions. This is not mere guesswork : we know it was so, not only in the particular instance which we are using as an illustration, but in many others also ; and hence we derive the general rule — that formations, hy nliatever name they may he distlngnished, are not neces- sarily similar in mineral character. A much more satisfactory criterion of the contemporaneous character, or Mineral cha- otherwise, of strata, is obtained ^'^cter of rocks p .1 he -1 i. • not a safe guide from the fossils they contain ; but even in this respect the utmost caution is necessary, especially in deal- ing with localities separated by great distances. Thus, for example, we find in America groups of the life of the period, — sometimes that of the deep sea, at others of shallow waters. Sometimes the remains of land animals have been preserved, and at other times the shells of fresh- water molluscs or of the vegetation of the adjoining land. The actual variation of life throughout the immense lapse of time of which we thus have the partial records is another question — one exceedingly difficult to answer, mainly because of these local breaks in the geological records, which enable us, on the other hand, to classify the formations with which we have to deal." At every period of the world’s history, strata of varied character were being formed contemporaneously. ^Miile the shells of the foraminifera, for instance, with other organic remains, were slowly accumulating on the ocean bottom to form our white chalk. of strata so like those of Europe, that there is but little difficulty in classifying them in the same manner and applying to them the terms adopted by geologists ifor the formations of Great Britain. It would, however, be im- possible to assert that they were, in the strict sense of the term, “contemporaneous,” since it is quite possible that particular groups of deposits on the American area may have com- menced earlier and continued later, or may be altogether of somewhat later or earlier date. In speaking of contemporaneous formations, therefore, some latitude must be allowed in the use of the term. Within a more restricted area, like that of the British Isles, the difficulty is not so great. It is in the effort to correlate the strata of different countries and widely separated regions that the caution is most necessary, and it is often better to speak, as GEOLOGY. 321 suggested by Mr. Huxley, of “homotaxial,”* rather than of “ contemporaneous ” formations. We propose now to consider the several groups of strata in their order of succession, beginning with the lowest. Pre- Cambrian Rocks. Of the pre- Cambrian rocks of Great Britain there is little to be said. In the outer Hebrides, and on the north-west coast of Scotland, the Cambrian strata rest unconformably upon rocks designated by Sir R. Murchison as the “ funda- mental gnei^” of the Highlands; that these are pre- Cambrian, therefore, there can be no doubt; that they are metamorphic, and were originally sedimentary deposits, is also generally allowed; and that they once contained fossil remains of animal life is highly probable ; but more than that it would not be safe to affirm. Certain rocks occurring at St. David’s, in Pem- brokeshire, and others in Anglesey, Holyhead, and adjacent parts of Caernarvonshire, have Highlands has been, with some probability, regarded as belonging to the Laurentian series of North America, where pre- Cambrian rocks form im- I-aa^ntian mense mountain masses. In Canada they occupy an area of about 200,000 square miles, and attain a thickness of between 30,000 and 40,000 ft. These rocks have been divided into two series, under the names of lower and upper Laurentian. They are meta- morphic rocks, “ consisting mainly of gneis,'- interstratified with mica- schist, with great beds of quartz, and massive beds of crystalline ^ limestone, of which one varies from 700 to 1 ,500 ft. in thickness. Conglomerates also occur, and there are vast deposits of magnetic and specular iron. Graphite or black lead is dis- seminated in strings, veins, and beds through hundreds of feet of the lower Laurentian, and its amount is calculated by Dr. Dawson to be equal in quantity to the coal seams of an equal area of the carboniferous rocks” (Nich.o]soB). VIEW NEAE GEEAT MALVEEN. also recently been described by Dr. Hicks as pre- Cambrian, and as consisting of three formations, to which he has given the names of Dimetian, Pehidian, and Arvonian.^ They are composed partly of highly altered and partly of igneous rocks, and an endeavour has been made to trace them in other localities, where, according to the same authority, they have hitherto been confounded with Cambrian strata. This classification has, however, been only to a limited extent accepted by geologists, and it remains to be seen whether the discrimi- nation can be sustained. A part of the Malvern range is generally regarded as pre- Cambrian ; and the fundamental gneiss of the Scottish * From Vb?, “ like”; and raft?, "order” or "rank”; that is, strata having the same order or position in the geological scale. t The first two of these names are derived from Dimdia, the ancient name for a kingdom which in- cluded this part of North Wales ; PeMdam, the name of the division or hundred in which these rocks are chiefiy exposed ; the designation Arvonian is derived from the ancient name of Caernarvon (Caer-yn-Arron). VOL. I. The lower Laurentian are over 20,000 ft. in thickness, and the upper Laurentian — more than 10,000 ft. thick— are also highly crystal- line and metamorphic, and rest unconformably upon the lower series. From the description given above, it is a fair inference that both vegetable and animal life existed upon the globe in the early days of the world’s history. It is difficult to imagine the formation of immense beds of limestone and large quantities of graphite by any other means than by the alteration of animal and vegetable remains. Hitherto, however, no distinctly recognizable fossil has been discovered, with the important exception of the Eozoon Cana- dense, which has been pronounced by the best authorities to have been a gigantic foraminifer, growing layer upon layer, and thus forming reefs of limestone. Notwithstanding the great preponderance of opinion in favour of this view, the subject is still a matter of dispute. The eozoon was discovered by Mr. J . M‘Mullen in 1858 at the Grand Calumet, on the river 2i 322 THE UyiVEMSAL INSTRUCTOR. Ottawa, and has since been found in consider- able quantity. It received its name from Dr. Dawson, whose opinion has been endorsed by Dr. Carpenter, Professor T. Rupert Jones, and many other competent authorities. The Lau- rentian rocks stretch northward, and form the fundamental rocks of the Polar area. Tpie Noun (contbme(T).—TnY.Q>vci. 2. On the Gender of Nouns ending in e MUTE.— fl. Nouns ending in e mute preceded by another vowel are feminine : la thought ; la plaie, sore ; la joie, joy ; la folie, madness ; la roe, street ; la lieue, league ; la )Tioue, pout ; la vague, wave ; la republique, republic ; une ahhaye, abbey. EXCEPTIONS. Apogee, ath^e, Ath^n^e, caducee, cam^e, chasse- maree, colisee, coryphee, elysee, empyree, gynec^e, hymen^e, hypogee, lycee, mausolee, miscell anises (pi.), musee, p6rig^e, protee, prytan6e, pygmde, rez-de- chauss^e, ecarab^e, spondee, trophee. Foie. Aph41ie, g^nie, incendie, parapluie, p^rih^lie, scolie. Apologue, besigue, catalogue, dialogue, epilogue, orgue (in the sing.), prolo^e. Abaque, casque, claque (crush hat) , cloaque, zodiaque, cheque; cantique, cosmetique, distique, elastique, <5m^tique, masque, mastique, pan^girique, physique (personal appearance), poTtiqne, stomachlque, topique, toxique,tropique,viatique; colloque, phoque, soliloque; caique, casque, cirque, disque, kiosque, lentisque, manque, masque, mollusque, ob^lisque, risque, socque. b. Nouns ending in e mute preceded by a double consonant are feminine : etoffe, stuff ; mile, hall ; gomvie, gum ; tonne, cask ; grappe, bunch ; barre, stroke ; basse, hunch ^patte, paw. EXCEPTIONS. Greffe (chancery), hippogriffe. Boute-selle, caville, chevrefeuille, codicille, drUle, gille, isabelle (light bay), intervalle, libelle, mille, polichinelle. portefeuille, quadrille, sille, trille, vaude- ville, vermicelle (also vermicel), violoncelle. Dilemme, gramme (and all compounds except une epigramme), lemme, somme (nap). Renne (male reindeer, the female is called la renne). Becarre, beurre, cimeterre, courre, leurre, lierre, parterre, squirre (some write squirrhe), tintamarre, tonnerre, rerre. Carrosse, eolosse, molosse, narcisse, Pamasse, paillasse (clown). Squelette. o. Nouns ending in le, me, re, preceded by a consonant, are masculine ; le crible, sieve or riddle ; le socle, stand ; le .muffle, breath ; le seigle, rye ; le petiple, people ; le merle, black- bird ; — le dogme, dogma ; le schisme, schism ; un asthme, asthma ; une orme, elm ; — le sahre, sword ; le sacre, coronation ; le cadre, frame ; le soufre, sulphur ; le vinaigre, vinegar ; le pampre, vine ; le mHre, metre. EXCEPTIONS. Bible, etable, esteuble (also eteule), fable, hieble (some make it masc.), table; besides, debacle, manicle (aZso caZ^edmanique),petoncle,sanicle ; momifle, aefle, pantoufle, rafle (also called raffe) ; epingle, regie, sangle, tringle perle. Enigme; arme, alarme, berme, chiourme, corme, ferme, forme, gourme, larme. Fibre, ombre, t^nibres (pi.), vertebre; encre; calandre, cendre. clepsydre, coriandre, hydre, mai- landre, salamancii'e, scolopendre ; affre (usually pi., a long), baire, balatre, gaufre, offre; chiragre (ch — k), podagre; capre (capro, without the is masc., and means a pirate ship, O. S. ) ; chartre, dart^’e, ^pitre, fenetre, guetre, huitre, mirtre (also mar^e), mitre, outre, patenotre, palestre, piastre, poutre, vitre ; couleuvre, nevre, levre, livre (a pound), pieuvre, plevre. d. Nouns ending in ge preceded by a rowel are masculine: le -warbling ; lepiegc, snare; le pleige, security (0. S.) ; le litige, litigation ; un eloge, praise ; le bouge, hovel ; le refuge, refuge. EXCEPTIONS. Ambages (pi.), cage, enallage, hypallage, image; nage, page (of a book), passeruge, rage, saxifrage, allege; neige; tige, voltige ; horloge, loge, toge; gouge, and all in auge. The four rules given above do not exhaust the subject ; it Avill be continued in subsequent lessons. The student, meanwhile, is warned against spending much time over questions of gender, and agai'ist committing the exceptions to memory. An occasional reading aloud of the paragraphs, in taking care to place the correct article or adjective before each noun, is all that is necessary. Indeed, from observa- tion and general ])ractice of French, he will soon make up for himself a set of rules which will answer his wants and the bent of his mind better than what grammarians can offer him ; for, although some claim to have discovered the royal road, the arrangement of the matter remains entirely arbitrary. Adjectives. An adjective is a word which expresses a quality of a substantive. When it stands immediately beside the noun, either before or after, it is said to be used in an attributive sense ; when it stands apart, being affirmed of the noun, it is used in a sense. In le *f>eau soleil, the beautiful sun, and la lumiere argentSe, both beau and argentic are attributes ; but in le soleil est beau and_ la lumiere est argentSe, beau and argentee being affirmed of soleil and lumiere, are predicates. Whether used as an attribute or a predicate, an adjective agrees in gender and number with the noun or pronoun -which it qualifies. All adjectives being supposed to appear originally in the masculine singular, it remains to form their feminine and plural. The feminine of an adjective is formed by adding e mute to the masculine. This mute letter, which after a vowel has no effect, modifies the sound of the word very con- siderably when it comes after an inarticulated consonant : carr6, square ch^ri, cherished bleu, blue grand, large (gran') petit, small (jfti) fin, fine (fin, nasal) carree (pr. carve) cherie (pr. chhn) bleue (pr. bleu^ grande (grand') petite (p'tit') fine (finn) This general rule for the formation of the feminine has a vast number of exceptions. Whether the adjective be mascuhne or femi- nine, the plural is formed by adding s • carves, carrees ; cheris, chevies; bleus, bleues, etc. Feminine adjectives follow invariably this rule, FRENCU GRAMMAR. 323 as they all end in and as there is no other way of forming a plural after e than l^y s. In masculine adjectives some exceptions may be mentioned ; as these follow the lines of exceptions observable in nouns, with which the student is acquainted, they may be mentioned now. a. Adjectives ending in s and a?, as low, faux, false, remain as they are. }). Adjectives ending in au take x, as nouveau, pi. nouveaux. [Those in eu and ou follow the general rule.] c. Most adjectives in al make aux: colonial, pi. coloniaux. Practical Apjjllcation. 1. VOCABULAEY VII. d. Adjectives and Past Participles treated adjectively. blanc, n'lLite bon, good fort, strong Itr neuf, new petit, small rare, scarce rempli, filled vendu, sold gras,/«^ gris, grey gros, big creux, hollow false heureux, happy jealous pieux, 2>ious beau, beautiful animal, animal mineral, mineral vegetal, vegetable 2. The simple tenses of Hre — Present Infinitive, etre, to be Present Participle, 6tant, being Past Participle, et6, been Indicative. Present. ne suis-je pas ? n’es-tu pas ? n’est-il pas ? ne sommes-nous pas ? n’etes-vous pas ? ne sont-ils pas ? Imperfect. j’^tais, I was tu etais, thou wast il 6tait, he was nous 6tions, we were vous 6tiez, you were ils ^taient, they were Perfect Definite. je fus, I was s tu fus, tho^i wast ^ il fut, he was S. nous fhmes, we were "f vous futes, you were S' ils furent, they were Future Absolute. je serai, I shall be tu seras, thou wilt be il sera, he will be nous serons, we shall be vous serez, yo7i will be ils seront, they will be Conditional. Present or Future. je serais, I should be tu serais, thou wouldst be il serait, he would be nous serions, we should be vous seriez, you would be ils seraient, they would be Do. Interrogatively. serais-je? ^ seraiS-tu ? serait-il ? ^ serions-nous ? o- seriez- vous ? seraient- ils ? ^ Impeeative. Affirmatively. sois, be thou qu’il soit, let him be soyons, let us be soyez, be ye qu’ils soient, let them be Negatively. ne sois pas, ^ qu’il ne soit pas, ne soyons pas, ^ ne soyez pas, 3* qu’ils ne soient pas, Subjunctive. Present. que ]e sois g- que tu sois qu’il soit s que nous soyons ^ que vous soyez qu’ils soient ^ Imperfect. que je fusse que tu fusses qu’il fut que nous fussions que vous fussiez qu’ils fussent Bemarlc. — Strictly speaking, there is in French no third person in the imperative. The forms given above are taken, as they invariably are, from the present subjunctive, and are only mentioned to show how the English imperative is rendered into French. QiCil soit, qu’ils soient, etc., therefore, always suppose a proposition understood ; qti’il-s soient heureux, let them be happy — je desire qu’ils soient heure^ix, Censult also remarks after avoir, p. 190. EXEECISE XIX. {May be passed over.) Ascribe the correct gender to these nouns ; — Craie, chalk; roue, n-heel; \wq>\q, girey ; soie, silk; boue, mud; ivraie, tares ; cx\\e, rotten- ness; series ; marriage ; T\^Q,fate; scarab6e, beetle; fairy ; rmees, clouds ; portee, reach ; blague, pouch ; orgues, organs; mastique, r^plique, C7ie; manque, want: trique, cudgel; bougie, wax candle; abeille, bee ; assiette, plate; hotte, hod; ton- nerre, thunder; programme, bill; bagatelle, trifle: isabelle, light bay horse; famille, -family ; rosse, sorry horse ; faucille, sickle ; amarre, hawser; trappe, trap; grippe, in- iiuenza ; trefle, clover; nefle, medlar; coffre, box ; genre, kind ; givre, rime ; girofle, cloves; girofl^e, gillifiower ; pantoufle, .slipper; sal- petre, saltpetre ; fable, fable ; cat^chisme, catechism ; fanatisme, fanaticism ; marasme, consumption; fiacre, cab; shb\e, sand ; bible, bible ; terme, term ; usage, use ; image, pic- ture ; si^ge, .seat ; neige, snow ; radotage, dotage ; tirage, drawing ; sauge, sage ; cortege, procession ; prodige, wonder. EXEECISE XX. (For the nouns, look up the examples given in- illustration of the rules of this Lesson.) 1. Here is a beccafico ; is it (he) not small ?” 2. The gratuities were {perf. def.) not large. 3. Louisa, how tall you are (you are tall) ! 4. Were Qimperf.) the passports new ? 5. That she might not be small. 6. Are we not happy ?.' 7. Thou wilt be big and fat. 8. The farmyards, would be filled. 9. Baritones (v. 3, p. 3) are not so scarce as (que) white * blackbirds (v. 3, p. 3 — merle blanc corresponds to the proverbial expression ram fli'T.9). 10. Here are beautiful * (v. 1, p. 141) caulifiowers in the garden beds. 11. Are screech-owls white or grey? 12. My brother’s etchings and copper-plates will be sold. 13. Children {no art. before the nomina- tive of address), be good and pious ; let us never be false and jealous. 14. The republic was . {imperf.) Btroryg. 15. The stuffs would be sold. 16. Some (v. 8, p. 74) vegetable, * mineral, * - and animal * substances {Fr. substances, /m.) some vegetable, mineral, and animal products; {Fr. produits, ma.se.). 17. The huge * cask of Nuremberg was {perf. def.) filled with (de) white * wine. 18. Thy father’s elms are rather (unpeu)low. 19. The screech-owl had {imperf.) a refuge in a hollow * tree (arbre, masc.). 20. To be or not to be. * These adjectives are placed after the noun in French. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. 32 1 IX. HYDROGEN. This gas, when pure, is tasteless, colourless, and invisible. It is not met with naturally pure or uncom- Attnbutesof bined, but con- hydrogen. .atuting as it does volumetrically the prin- cipal constituent of water, it may be regarded as one of the most widely diffused of all the elements. Plydrogen, in a condition of tolerable purity, may be obtained by a process the exact nature of which wo are not yet in a position to explain, but which we will do under the head of Nitrogen, when speaking of acids and salts. For this purpose the following ap paratus is required: a Woolf’s bottle, the construction of wliich "will be understood from the diagram on page 297, is three parts filled witli water and a certain quantity of zinc shavings or granulated zinc. ♦Sul[)huric acid is now gradually introduced through the upright tube. Ano- Prep^ation of glass tube conveys the y ogsn. .g formed, into a bell-jar filled with water, and having its open end plunged below the surface of that liquid contained in any suitable vessel The hydrogen gas will gradually displace the water in the bell-jar. In the case of a gas that is soluble in water we have to employ the liquid metal mercury instead of that fluid when collect- ing it. This gas, if burnt, gives rise, as has already been explained, to water by its union with the oxy- ^ gen of the Its combustion, p j ^ burns with a pale blue flame, giving forth con- siderable heat and but little light. Balloons are filled with H on account of its extreme lightness, being 14|- times as ^of light as ordinary atmospheric air. * C '">K i Z ' I! ' magxesium: wiee bceked ix oxtgex. COMBFSTIOX OF PHOSPHOEUS. A balloon rises in the air just as a bottle does in water, because it is filled with a fluid much lighter than the surrounding me- dium. Balloons in practice are generally inflated with coal gas, which contains a large proportion of hydrogen, and which, although notso light as this gas in a pure and uncombined state, is nevertheless employed on account of its being much less expensive, Of HgO,* hydrogen mon- oxide, or water, we have already spoken. Another compound, hydrogen dioxide, HgOg, can be produced by the art of the chemist, but is not met with Compounds of in nature. This, which is some- hydxogen^th times knovTi as “ oxygenated Avater,” is a very unstable compound, parting readily with its surplus of 0, and reverting to the condition of the mon- oxide or water. In conse- quence of its giving off O thus freely, it acts as a power- ful bleaching agent. In the presence of ozone the mon- oxide is resolved into water and ordinary O. H unites with many of the other ele- ments to form a number of highly important compounds, of which we shall speak in due course. II is not only the lightest of all known bodies, but its combining weight corresponds with its specific gravity. The weight, therefore, of a given volume Hydrogen the of H affords standard of a standard whereby to ascertain the weight of a similar volume of any other gas at the same temperature and under similar conditions of atmospheric pres- sure. It has been proposed to take the weight of a cubic decimetre of H as the standard, calling it the Krith, from the Greek word for a barleycorn. The cubic decilitre is a cube of rather less than four inches, and ^ its contents constitute the French measure of capa- city known as a litre, which is rather more than a pint and three- quarters. A litre of H weighs 0‘08936 of a gramme, or less than a grain and a half — the weight of the gramme being about 15^ grains. Knowing, as we do, that the weight of N is four- teen times that of H, and that of O sixteen times that of H, we have only to multiply the weight of the litre of H to obtain that of the corresponding volume of either of the latter, thus: 0'08936X 16 = 1*430 grammes, the weight of a litre of O ; and 0*08936x14 = 1*251 grammes, or the weight of a litre of N ; and so on for any other gas, whether elementary or compound. * HaO signifies that there are two atoms of H to one of O. Figures placed below the symbols denote the number when more than two. CHEMISTRY. 325 tion and vital action. OXYGEN. This gas is perhaps entitled to be considered the most important of all the elements, on ac- count of the infinite variety of Oxygen sup- its compounds, both organic and inorganic. It has already been shown to be the great supporter of combustion and vitality. It exists not only in the air we breathe, in the Avater we drink, and in the substance of our own bodies, but forms, in combination Combines with -v^ith other elements, the greater other elements, materials of which this world is built up. 0 under normal conditions presents itself to our senses as an invisible, tasteless gas. If breathed pure, it accelerates the action of the heart, quickens the circulation of the blood, and stimulates vital action generally. It is occasionally administered me- dicinally Avith good effect, but should only be employed by an experienced practitioner, as its incautious use may be attended Avith danger and even death. O may be obtained by the decomposi- tion of any com- pound containing it. If a small quantity of the red oxide of mer- cury be intro- duced into a test tube and held over the flame of a spirit lamp, it Avill be decom- ])osed, 0 Avill be given off, and the Liquid metal Avill be deposited, in small globules, on the cooler portions of the sides of the test tube. The sub- stance Avhich is generally employed, hoAvever, to obtain pure 0, is the salt known as potassium- chlorate. This substance, mixed Avith a cer- tain quantity of the black oxide of manganese, is introduced into a retort, and subjected to a degree of heat sufficient to effect its decompo- sition. The gas may be collected in a stoppered bell-jar in the same manner as H. The appa- ratus employed for the purpose is very simple, and may be easily put together. A chip of gloAving Avood, or a recently extin- guished taper, if introduced into this gas, at once . bursts into a flame. An iron nail ^°^xygen? ^ Avatcli-spring, if ■ rendered incandescent, or Avhite- hot, and plunged into a jar of 0, is rapidly (iiiNiiKAXlOiJf or CHLOKINJ*:. burnt aAvay Avith brilliant scintillations : this is a very pretty experiment. The result is the formation of oxide of iron. A piece of phosphorus, the size of a pea, if placed in a deflagrating spoon and kindled by being touched with a red-hot iron Avire, burns in O with intense Affinity of brilliancy. Phosphorus, having phosphorus for a strong affinity for 0, cannot be kept in contact Avith the free O of the atmo- sphere, as it Avould unite with it and enter into slow combustion. It must therefore be preserved under Avatcr, and care must be taken thoroughly to dry the portion intended to be burnt in O. Owing to the intensity of the combustion, the Avater Avould be instantly converted into steam, giving rise to an explosion Avhereby small por- tions of the glow- ing phosphorus are impelled against the sides- of a glass jar and crack it. Caro must likeAvise be taken in handling- phosphorus not to let it come into contact with tho fingers, as the heat of the hand is often sufficient to determine its combustion, and it inflicts a very severe burn, Avhieh heals Avitb difficulty. 0 forms compounds Avith every knoAvn ele- ment,-. Avith the single exception of fluorine, of which no coiii- poundwith O has as yet been dis- covered, although Ave are not ju^i- fled in asserting that none exists. The different compounds of 0 Avill be treated of under the head of the various elements, as^they present themselves for our consideration. NITROGEN. This gas has already been described as singu- larly inert and destitute of special characteristics. Although not possessing any strong affinity for O, N forms, nevertheless, no fewer than live distinct chemical compounds Avith that gas, eacli of Avhich exhibits very marked and striking attributes, one of them giving rise to the poAver- f ul acid known as nitric acid or aquafortis. The proportion of O in each of these compounds is as the numbers 1, Compounds of 2, 3, 4, 5, to a quantity of N Avhich does not vary — that is to say, is oxygen. the same in each. They illustrate, therefore, in a very striking manner, the truth of the law ■liiiifiiiiiiiiiiiifiiiiiB 326 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. of chemical combination in multiple proportion on which the atomic theory is founded. Taking the combining weight of H as 1, those of N and 0 will be found to be as 14 and 16 — that is, they will combine in exactly that proportion by weight with every other ele- niustration of meiit with which they enter into combination chemical union. Let us suppose by weig t. compound to be one contain- ing a greater quantity than this of 0, then the quantity will be found to be 16 X 2 = 32, 16x3 = 48, or some higher multiple of 16 ; two parts of hr will be represented by 14 x 2 = 28, and so on for all the other elements, but no intermediate combinations are ever found to exist. It is im^xissible, for instance, for any compound to contain an atom and a quarter or an atom and a half of 0, quantities that w'ould be represented respectively by the figures 20 and 24. Let us sec how this is illustrated in the nitrogen series of oxides or compounds with 0. 1. Nitrogen monoxide, containing 23 N. + 16 0. 2. Nitrogen dioxide „ 28 N. -f 32 O. 3. Nitrogen trioxide „ 28 N. -j- 48 O. 4. Nitrogen tetroxide „ 28 N. -f 64 O. •5. Nitrogen pentoxide „ 28 N. -f- 80 0. Here it will be seen that we have in each •case two volumes or atoms of N combined with 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 atoms of 0. If Oxides of we were justified in assuming the nitrogen a divisibility of the ultimate par- tide or atom, we might consider the firet of this series of com- pounds as 1 atom of N united to ^ atom of 0, and the pentoxide as 1 of N united to 2.^ of O; but knowing, as we do, that no such com- binations are possible, and that every increase in the quantity of any element, entering into chemical union with another, is an increase in the ratio of a multiple of its combining weight, and that we have exactly twice or three times or four times as much as that weight, of course we are not justified in any such assumption. Nitrogen and oxygen do not readily com- bine. They may nevertheless be made to do so • V ^ causing a series of electric discharges to pass through a glass ® vessel containing dry atmospheric air. The presence of these com- pounds, the tri- and tetr-oxides of N and 0, will be manifested by the appearance of red-coloured vapours in the vessel. JSimilar combinations of N and 0 are frequently determined by the ]jassage of the electricity through the air during a thunderstorm ; and if an alkali be present the result will be the formation of a salt exercising a fertilizing influence on vege- tation when brought to the earth by the drops of rain. Nitrogen enters into combination with various metals, as mercury, copper, titanium, molybdenum, and vanadium, forming a class of compounds to which the term Nitrides is applied. Their most marked characteristic is that they are highly explosive, resolving them- selves when struck, or at a high temperature, into their constituent elements. XI. {continued). — Adjectives. D. Adjectives and Nouns declined together^ in agreement Kith each other : — (1) The Adjective with a Feminine Noun. Singular. N.Y. Farva mensa, a small table, or 0 small table Ac. Parvam mensam, a small table G. Parvae mens®, of a small table D. ParvBS mensae, to or for a small table Ab. Parva mensa^ Plural. by, with, or from a small table N.Y. Parvae mensae. small tables, or 0 small tables Ac. Parvas mensas. small tables G. Parvarum mensarum, of small tables D. Parvis mensis, to or for small tables Ab. Parvis mensis. by, with, or from small tables (2) The Adjective with a Masculine Noun. Singular. N. Bonus dominus, Y. Bone domine, Ac. Bonum dominum, G. Boni domini, D. Bono domino, Ab. Bono domino, Plural. N.V. Boni domini, Ac. Bonos dominos, G. Bonorum dominorum, D. Bonis dominis, Ab. Bonis d5minis, a good lord O good lord a good lord of a good lord to or for a good lord by, with, or from a good lord good lords, or 0 good lords good lords of good lords to or for good lords by, with, or from good lords (3) The Adjective with a Neuter Noun. Singular. N.V. A. Magnum regnum, G. Magni regni, D. Magno regn5, Ab. Magno regno. a great kingdom, or O great king- dom of a great king- dom to or for a great kingdom by, with, or from a great kingdom Plural. N.V.A. Magna regna great kingdoms, or 0 great king- doms G. Magnorum regnorum, of great kingdoms D. Magnis regnis, to or for great kingdoms Ab. Magnis regnis, by, with, or from great kingdoms LATIN. 327 Self-Examination Questions and Exercises. What is the difference between the Latin and the English adjective inform and in relation to the noun ? What is meant by the agreement of the Latin adjective with its noun! Give an example of a l f> (> / « T t' A 1 [ I A _ /i 2 L_J±J O-- aL- _o The key to these is this. The upper figure A.N OEGAir OF THE FOUETEEHTH CENTUET. shows how many pulses there are in the j measure, and the lower indicates the note I which represents a pulse. In this scale of j pulse-notes : — I 1 (rarely used) stands for a semibreve. 1 2 stands for a minim. 4 stands for a crotchet. I 8 stands for a quaver. Thus the signature f means “ three crotchets to a measure ” ; | means six quavers ; f means three minims. The two last, which are among the most common signatures, denote two va- rieties of “ common time,” for which the letter c stands. The first sort is four-pulse, four crotchets to the measure, and might be (and rarely is) written -J. The second sort, with a line through the c, is called “alia breve” time, j and denotes that there are but two accents in I the measure, and generally that the music is 1 intended to be sung quickly. 334 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. In the Tonic Sol-fa notation a pulse is always recognized as the distance from one acc'ent mark 'to the next. But it should Indi^tlon of noticed that in the stafE nota- puiaes. different units are employed for a pulse. A piece of music in four-pulse measure may be written, according to the taste of the composer, and to his idea of its character, in four crotchets to the measure, four quavers, or four minims : a piece in three-pulse measure may similarly be written in f, f, or f time. The general rule is that minims are sedate and slow" in appearance, and suit sacred music ; while crotchets, and especially quavers, look giddy, and suggest dance music. Hymn-tunes are commonly written in | or time ; but recent compilers and composers have adopted the crotchet as the pulse-note, and write the tunes in I or f time. In some time-books, to save space, the time signature is omitted al- together. The time can then only be seen by looking at a measure. Find by examination of one or more mea- ^ , sures, the time signatures of the Exercise. a. d. C. W. Levy. Irish Air. S — 1 Fh= — M tzii2_tzzl i s /. Sir J. Benedict. h. j. Vincent Wallace. After writing dovm the time signatures of the above, translate them into Tonic Sol-fa nota- tion. Besides the common time signatures already noticed are two others, which in Tonic Sol-fa we call twelve-pulse and nine- pulse measure. The first may be Twelve-pulse regarded as four-pulse measure With an abundance of triplets ; and the second as three-pulse measure of the same kind. Evidently we can express a passage in either of these two ways. Subjoined are examples of f and time : — Shelving the accents. A Tonic Solfaist will soon perceive the meaning of the way in which the staff notation is written so as ccents. show the internal accents of a measure. For example, if we wish in six- eight time (six-pulse measure) to write this note, with its prolongation ; — Id:-:- 1 - H the student might reason thus : “ The note is six quavers long ; a minim is equal to four quavers : I will dot it, and it will equal six quavers.'’ He might then write the note thus : — But this would be wrong, because it would not show the accent in the middle of the measnre. The correct way of writing the note is this ; — zzzhzz The tie or slur shows that no second note is to be struck, but only the first prolonged, and the second crotchet shows the duple accent. ANCIENT HISTORY. 335 The following passage further illustrates this point. Compare the pulses, as shown in the Tonic Sol-fa version, with the arrangement of the accents in the staff notation : — n 'f- ^ 2 ~II 22 • if ts £ ^ -i i 1 1— \ — t -A 1 O ■■ :_t— I- H ! 1- .! . L ! u 1- 1 L4 " -r=zlJ tJ KEY C. d’ : — 1 — : : I m’ :r’ :d* [ — :r’ :m’ I shf imhrhmhf j s’:— : f 1 m’ X. Assyrian Conquests. The great king Shalmaneser was succeeded by his son Samsi-vul IV. (or Samas-Kimmon, as he is sometimes named), who had, by his energy and w'arlike qualities, put down the formidable insurrection headed by his brother Assur-dain- pal, and reconquered the twenty-seven great cities which had taken part with Assur and proclaimed him king. The earlier jmars of the reign of Samsi-vul were occupied in restoring the old limits of the empire, which had been encroached on in the troubles and disaffections which marked the end of the previous reign. He made himself master of revolted provinces on the north and north-east, fixing the Assyrian frontier near the Hittite city of Karchemish, and restored the southern border. His general, Mutariz-assur, a stem and un- yielding w’arrior, marched as far north as Lake Van, devastating the country, Various taking possession of or destroying expeditions. “fihtory hundred villages and a num- ber of forts, levying tribute, and bringing back droves of horses, a fine breed of which abounded in the district. The king himself shortly afterwards led an expedition in the same direction, and extorted tribute (con- sisting chiefly of horses)from several of the chiefs or petty kings, whose territories he had invaded. He destroyed several hundred villages, the in- habitants flying to the mountains for refuge. The victorious march of the conqueror was con- tinued, and the countries on the north and east were over-run and subdued by his armies. Uras, the chief city of Gizilbunda, was stormed, and five thousand of the defenders and inhabi- tants massacred. Another small kingdom, — for on the northern and eastern frontier of Assyria were many small states, independent when unmolested by stronger neighbours, — Zibara, was attacked, and tribute enforced ; and Media was invaded. The people of the less protected, outlying towns and villages fled. One leader, Hanaziruka, who made a stand, was defeated, with the loss of two thousand three hundred men, and nearly a hundred and fifty .chariots ; the royal city, Sakbita, was captured and sacked, and more than a thousand villages were destroyed or made desolate. No force that could be gathered was of avail to resist the indomitable Samsi-vul and his hardy and disciplined army. King Munirzuarta, of Arazias, with more than a thousand of his bravest warriors, was slain, and a host of petty chieftains of Assyrian and Samarian tribes offered submission and saved the lives of themselves and people by paying tribute. Absolute master, not only of the restored provinces of the old Assyrian empire, but of various petty kingdoms adjoining the frontiers, and now added to Invasion of his dominions, Samsi-vul deter- ^ ^ mined to invade Babylonia, the pretext being the alleged necessity of establishing what might perhaps be described as a “ scientific frontier ” between the rival kingdoms. The river now known as the Lower Zab, had been regarded from the time of the first political separation as the geographical line of demarcation ; but the Assyrian king now determined to advance be- yond it. Probably he could have offered many reasons, political and otherwise, for this resolve, but the most influential motive appears to have been that he had recently obtained great vic- tories by which his territories were considerably enlarged, that he had accumulated much trea- sure and organized a large and powerful army, and that, as in the case of many other military kings in all ages of the world, the appetite for conquest “ increased by what it fed on,” till it developed into a desire for universal dominion. Between Assyria and Babylonia there w^as a historic rivalry ; and Babylonia, weakened by dynastic quarrels and internal dissensions, ap- peared to be now in an unfit condition to offer much resistance to the Assyrian arms. In 820 B.C., Samsi-vul and his armies crossed the Zab, taking possession of the small cities on the Babylonian side of the river, sending the inhabitants as captives to Assyria, and reached the river Tumat (the modern Adhem). A strongly-fortified city, Dur-abisa, was stormed and captured, and the road to the very heart of Babylonia appeared to be open to the invader. At least two hundred small towns beyond the Turnat were taken, hundreds of villages were destroyed, the crops ravaged, the male in- habitants slaughtered, and the women and children made captives. Some of the people escaped the massacre, and fled to a fortified city, Kiribti-alani, for refuge; but the fierce Assyrians followed on the track, stormed the city, and another slaughter followed. Some who had fled from the place on the approach of the enemy reached another strong place, Dur-papsukul (or Dir-ahisu), an island fortress, almost impregnable against ordinary means of attack : the inscriptions and the bas-reliefs tell 336 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. us liow the Assyrians crossed the stream, stormed the city, and put to the sword the garrison and refugees. Then they devastated the surrounding country, destroying nearh' five hundred villages, killing three thousand people, and carrying away as captives nearly as many as they killed. The Babylonian king at that time was Maruduk-baladsu-ikbi. Maruduk (the “bril- . . liance of the sun ”), or Merodach, Patnoti^eflForts ai)pearsin the Bible narrative, Babylonians. names or titles of Bel, the Babylonian divinity, and implied the younger Bel, and frequently formed an addition to the royal name. The king, who had just succeeded to the throne, exerted him- self strenuously to resist the onward march of ^ the Assyrian king, and collected a large force, including mercenary troops from Chaldea, Elam, and other adjacent kingdoms and semi-inde- pendent states. The Babylonian army took driven from their homes, left to starve in the mountain recesses where they had taken refuge; the crops were destroyed” thousands of warriors slain, and troops of captives, old and young, women with infants at their breasts, v.'ere driven like herds of cattle into Assyria, as slaves to the proud monarch and his generals and nobility. Four other expeditions into Babvlonia were led by Samsi-vul, in 816, 81.5, 814, a”nd 813 B.C. The sacred city Deri was cap- tured ; other cities submitted to the conqueror, and in 812 b.C. Babylon itself was taken. Farther conquest was for the time apparently suspended by the death of 8amsi-vul; but before his death he had established the new frontier, and annexed to the Assyrian empire the rich provinces Iving between the Zab and the Tumat. He”had reigned thirteen years, and Avas succeeded by his young son, Vul-nirari III., so named on , THE PLAIXS up a position at Ahadaba, near Dur-papsukul, and awaited the attack of Samsi-Tul, A fierce battle ensued, apparently hotly contested on each side ; the result being a great victory for the Assyrians. Five thousand of the Baby- lonians were slain, and more than ten thousand made prisoners; chariots, baggage- waggons, and even the tent of Maruduk:, with ail its luxurious appurtenances, falling into the hand of the conqueror. "NVe have no record of the immediate results Oi this victory. Probably the Assyrian king Avas satisfied AA'ith the defeats he had inflicted, and the devastation of a fertile and Avell- peo- pled district. The bloAv so vigorously dealt must have been bitterly felt by the Babylonians. The number of cities named, and the hundreds of villages, prove that there must have been a numerous and thriving population in the dis- tricts between the Zab and the Turnat ; and beyond the last-named riA’er, the people were OF BAETLOX. the monuments, but known in other histories as Rimmon-nirari. The neAv king inherited the warlike qualities and the ambition of his race. He reigned twenty-nine years ; and after the first two years there is a record for every year of some mili- tary expedition. He invaded Medea, devas- tated the country near Lake Urumeya, pene- trated into Syria, reaching Arpal, the city or district connected with Damascus, and in the seventh year of his reign his armies stood on the shores of the Mediterranean. Mariha, the king of Damascus, could offer but a feeble resistance ; and when the young Assyrian conqueror ap- proached the city, he made submission, and paid tribute. The minor states of Syria were not long in folloAving the example ; and Yulniran Avas supreme from the Euphrates to the “ Great Sea.” Turning his arms eastAA’ard, the pettA" kings of Chaldea were subdued, and Babylonia virtually converted into a province of Assyria. PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY, 337 X. Volcanic Forces. In order to arrive at a knowledge of the causes which have produced the variations in the surface of the earth, it will be necessary to examine the nature of volcanic and glacial action, the former being the principal cause of the upheavals and depressions; the latter of various phenomena which present themselves to the notice of the student of physical geo- graphy. We have already referred to the formation of volcanic islands due to abrupt upheavals of the bed of the ocean; and the operation of a similar force on parts of the earth’s surface above the sea-level has produced the mountain ridges and peaks which are such conspicuous features of conti- nental masses. Every elevation of the surface of the earth is not neces- sarily an active volcano, for the outer crust of the earth may be rent and broken, pro- ducing irregular up- heavals and ridges extending thou- sands of miles from the volcano, which is in some cases the nucleus of a sur- rounding, in others the cause of a lateral, disruption. Certain laws of operation are recognized by physical geogra- o^erTtion P^^^rs ; and Mr. Keith Johnston, opera ion. descriptive matter accom- panying his magnificent “Atlas of Physical Geography,” thus lucidly explains them : — “1st. When the upheaving force is limited to a small area, its intensity diminishing according to distance from that point, the upheaval will necessarily be confined to a limited circular region, the fissures [of the earth’s crust] being along radii from the central point, or there may exist separately or con- jointly with the former another system dividing the distended soil into concentric rings. The volcanic region of central France affords a remarkable example of this, and it has affected most abundantly the existing surface of the earth. 2nd. The upheaving force, instead of being confined within a small district, may be diffused beneath a large tract or zone, and such zone must be stretched, or subjected to tensions which incline to tear or split it, and these ten- sions must reach their maxima in two directions, VOL. I. one set inducing the zone to split in the dircc- sion of its length, and another acting at right angles to them, and tending to produce fi'ssures along the zone’s breadth. This accounts for the transverse valleys of mountain chains, and for mineral veins being generally in two systems at right angles to each other.” The origin of transverse valleys, as explained above, is illustrated by “ the valleys of disloca- tion ” described by geologists. The opposite sides of valleys of this character exhibit not only a continuation of the same strata, but salient points and hollows, so exactly corresponding as to proclaim their formation by the breakage of the general mass during its upheaval. Various theories have been offered in expla- nation of volcanic phenomena. Sir Humphrey Davy propounded a theory which he afterwards abandoned, but Origin of which has since been advocated action, by Professor Daubeney and some others. They suggest that there are in the interior of the earth vast quantities of silicon and the metallic bases of the earths and alkalies known to chemical science ; and when brought into contact with air or water oxidiza- tion ensues, a great amount of heat is generated, and gaseous compounds are liberated, which, with aqueous va- pours, rend the crust of the earth, pro- ducing the effects known as volcanic phenomena. This theory is now gene- rally rejected by geologists and geo- graphers. Bischof, the German physi- cist, author of “ Che- mical and Physical Geology,” assuming that the interior of the earth consists of a highly heated and fused mass, considered that the mechanical action of water con- verted into steam by the great heat would produce volcanic action, — that in fact, to ex- press the suggestion in familiar language, vol- canic eruptions are simjdy explosions produeed by steam, — an explanation inconsistent with observed phenomena. The most probable explanation is, that be- neath the comparatively thin crust of the earth (even if the whole interior ., , , is not in a state of fusion) there “hrata. are liquid strata of mineral matters in a state of igneous fusion, and that by movements in the earth's crust (to which we shall hereafter refer), portions of the strata are allowed to escape, while sea-water is admitted and gives rise to gaseous products. The origin of this mineral strata is supposed to be the softening and melting by internal heat of portions of the solid crust, and this it is considered explains the chemical phenomena observed in the erupted 22 VOLCANO OF JOEULLO. 83S THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. rocks. The heat necessary to produce the re- sult is either that transmitted from the earth’s interior, or mechanically evolved by the crush- ing of the deeply buried strata during the con- traction of the earth’s crust, motion being converted into heat by the operation of a well-known physical law. In confirmation of this, it has been observed, says an able writer on the subject, “that the great volcanic regions of modern times, wherever circumstances per- mit us to determine their geological relations, appear to be those in which liave occurred both great deposition of sediments, burying to considerable depths the older rocks, and great movements of the earth's crust in comparatively recent geological periods.” The term earthquake is applied to a shaking or trembling of the outer surface or solid crust of the globe. It is asserted with Earthquakes, confidence that the surface of the earth is at no time free from these tremblings, frequently so slight as to be scarcely noticeable, at other times so extensive and terrific as to pro- duce the most appalling catastrophes, llecords of more than 7,000 earthquakes, so disastrous as to induce special remembrance, which have occurred between the remotest period known to history and the present time, have been preserved. That earthquake phenomena are connected with volcanic action can scarcely be doubted. . .The result of observations care- Earthquakes aud^^^j ^nd extending over a volcanoes, shSw that great volcanic eruptions are almost invariably accompanied by shocks of earthquake ; but it is also an ascertained fact that some of the most terrible earthquakes recorded in liistory have not occurred in volcanic regions. The movements of the ground during an earthquake are vibrations either tremulous, vertical, hoii- zontal, or rotatory. Sometimes these vibra- tions follow each otlier rapidly ; sometimes they occur singly ; and in other cases they ap- pear to take place simultaneously. No previous intimation is given of the approach of the shock — which is thus made more terrible from its suddenness. In Chili and adjacent parts of South America slight tremblings of the surface of the earth are of almost daily occurrence, and attract very little attention. The vertical movement is similar to that produced by the explosion of a mine — ^the surface being broken up, and human beings and animals, rocky masses and other matters on the surface, being shot perpendicularly into the air. Great earth- quakes are marked by horizontal movements, propagated in undulations, like waves upon water, and estimated to travel at the rate of nearly thirty miles in a minute. Rotatory movements have been observed, but are unfre- quent. When they take place walls are twisted round without being prostrated, and parallel rows of trees and ridges in fields are deflected. The direction of the shocks is Earthquake either linear or in circles and saunds. ellipses, gradually decreasing in intensity with the distance from the central or focal points. The shocks are accompanied by great noises, in some cases like the rumbling of distant thunder, in others loud detonations j like the discharge of canuon ; the most re- markable sounds being described as resembling the clanking of chains, as if huge masses of mineral or vitrified matter were struck in caverns underground. Regarding these sounds, a suggestion has been made : — “ Sometimes at stations veiy remote, where no shock whatever has been iierceived, the sounds of explosion have been heard the same instant as at the sites of catastrophe. As sound requires a definite time to be transmitted through the air, it could not in these cases have been propa- gated by that medium. Solid bodies are much better conductors of sound, baked clay trans- mitting itwuth ten ortw^elve times the velocity of the open air ; yet the supjiosition of the sonorous waves being conducted by the surface of the earth is untenable, because time is still demanded for the transport. It is likely, in such instances, that the sounds originated at , such an immense depth below the surface as I to be nearly equidistant from all the places where j they were observed.” Careful observations, how'- 1 ever, made after the great Neapolitan earth- quake of 1857, pointed to the conclusion that the “ seismic centre ” (Gr. (retcr/^io?, earthquake), or focal depth of the convulsion, was only about six miles below the surface ; and similar calcu- lations respecting an earthquake in India in 1857 gave a depth of about thirty miles, which there is reason to suppose is the maximum. That these great convulsions are similar in their origin to volcanic phenomena is, as w'e have said, almost certain ; but the cause of the peculiar agitations Cause of of the surface of the earth pre- earthquakes, sents a problem w^hich is not easily solved, although V arious theories have been propounded. The “ steam explosion ” theory has been inge- niously advocated. Mr. Mallet, noticing the fact W'e referred to, that volcanic eruptions are commonly follow'ed by shocks of earthquake, and assuming that the lines or centres of volcanic action are generally near the sea, supposes that fissures may be formed in the bed of the ocean by submarine eruptions, that water flows in, reaching the central fire, and that, arriving there, it assumes the spheroidal form, until the surface with which it is in contact is cooled, when an explosion takes place, an earthquake being the result. A more satisfactory explanation has been given by the late Professor H. D. Rogers and his brother, who gave great atten- tion to the subject ; they express a very strong opinion that a great “ pulsation” of the molten fluid mass in the centre of the earth takes place, and is carried forward in the shape of huge waves, bearing along, or floating, as it were, the rocky crust of the earth above. We shall be able to show further on that the struc- ture of certain mountain ranges remarkably confirms this theory. The prodigious force exerted in these sub- terranean convulsions may be partially ap- preciated by a reference to some of the more remarkable results Force of which have been observed. The action. I shock of the earthquake which produced such 1 terrible results at Lisbon in 1755 was felt w'ith 2^11 l^l CAL GEU GllALllY. 0-9 more or less intensity over an area of 7,500,000 square miles; it extended to Finland, in the north of Europe, and some of the West India islands, and produced agitation of the waves of Lake Ontario, in North America. The velocity with which the shock travelled was computed to have been about twenty miles a minute, or 1,760 feet a second, or nearly half as fast again as the average velocity of sound ; and the sea rose into a wave sixty feet high, which broke upon the shore. An earthquake at Guadaloupe, in 1842, was felt from the mouths of the Amazon, in South America, to the coast of South Carolina, North America, a distance of 3,000 miles, and over a breadth of 70 miles. In 1692 Port Royal, Jamaica, was destroyed, and “ houses engulfed forty fathoms deep.” In 1693 . an earthquake in Sicily destroyed 54 towns and 300 villages, more than 100,000 lives being lost. In 1797 the whole country between Santa Fe and Panama, Central Ame- rica, suffered from an appalling convulsion : “ 40,000 people were buried in one second.” In September, 1759, on the lofty table-land about 150 miles south-west of the city of Mexico, an area of four square miles was sud- denly raised about 550 feet, and numerous cones appeared, one of which, the volcano of Jorullo, is nearly 1700 feet high. A contrary effect was product in Java in 1772, when a lofty mountain entirely disappeared, the area sunk being fifteen miles long and six miles broad. A great earth- quake in Chili in 1822 produced a permanent ele- vation of from two to seven feet of quite 100,000 square miles of land between the Andes and the coast ; and distinct traces of lines of sea-beaches at higher levels farther inland indicate previous liftings-up of the same region at different times along the same lines. These are but a few in- stances of the stupendous force exerted, out of many hundreds which might be quoted ; and it is estimated that at least 13,000,000 human beings have perished from earthquakes. The action of volcanoes is of an equally stupendous character. Vesuvius, in Italy, has thrown out at one eruption cSlceruptiot.^«"e than 46,000,000 cubic feet of lava and other matter in a state of fusion, including more than eighty kinds of minerals. In the great eruption of 1 669, by which many thousands of lives were lost, streams of lava rolled over the district in the vicinity of the mountain for forty days, and it was estimated, on good data, that 94,000,000 cubic feet of matter were discharged. In 1783 the Icelandic volcanoes sent out a stream of lava which, after a direct flow of fifty miles, divided into two streams, one fifty miles long and fifteen miles wide, the other forty miles long and seven miles wide, the depth on the aver- age being over 100 feet, but in defiles at least 600 feet. It is calculated that the mass so dis- charged weighed about forty thousand millions of tons, and in bulk was about equal to a pyramid twelve feet high with a base of forty square miles. In other words, a mass of matter equal in size to the Peak of Teneriffe, and nearly equal to Mont Blanc, the largest of the Alpine mountains, was hurled with stupendous force from the interior of the earth. The lava ejected in the great eruption of Etna, above referred to, had not cooled down and become perfectly solid ten years afterwards ; and the lava ejected by an eruption of Jorullo, in Mexico, was — wonderful and indeed almost incredible as it may appear — found to be hot and smoking sixty-eight years afterwards. Vesuvius has been known to throw out boiling water; and from volcanoes in South America large quantities of dead fish have been ejected, thus confirming the theory that the sea has found its way through fissures to the centre of volcanic disturbance. Ashes thrown out by volcanoes have fallen 700 miles from the place of ejection. Th^ overwhelming of the Italian towns, Pompeii and Herculaneum, by ashes discharged from Vesuvius, are memorable his- torical incidents. The perpendicular height of a column of molten matter and ashes thrown out by the same mountain has been estimated by a scientific observer at 10,000 feet ; and in the continuous eruption of Hecla, in Iceland, in 1845-6, three new craters were formed, from which columns of fire 14,000 feet high (nearly the elevation of Mont lllanc above the sea level) were thrown up. A calculation based on the quantity of matter known to have been ejected by vol- canoes affirms that it is sufficient, if spread equally over the surface of the globe, to aug- ment its diameter by about three-quarters of a yard ; in other words, the entire superficies of the globe — about 196^ millions of square miles — would be covered to the depth of nearly fourteen inches. But the products ejected leave corresponding cavities in the interior, the roofs of which are liable to give way beneath the weight of the accumulation on the surface, and subsidences are the result. XT. The Positions op Diffepent Objects in THE Heavens — The Tbansit Instrument. It will be well before proceeding further to ascertain how astronomers are accustomed to point out the positions of the different objects in the heavens ; so that by saying a star or planet is in Right Ascension so-and-so, and Declination so many degrees, or else in such and such longi- tude and latitude, its place in the heavens is at once fixed. Suppose the heavens represented by a large globe, and that we are placed at the north pole of this globe, at P, fig. 36, so that the figure repre- sents the northern hemisphere of the heavens, with the equator at the circumference. From geometry we know that any circle dividing the surface of a sphere into two equal halves is called a great circle, and both the equator and ecliptic are great circles of the , heavenly sphere. Suppose the ascension equator divided into 24 equal ® ^ ^ ax. divisions, as shown in the figure, so that each 340 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTuu division will contain 16° of the 360° in the entire circumference. Then astronomers call each of these divisions i’tne loovr of right ascensivn, and divide this hour into minutes and seconds just as if it were an hour of time. They call the great circles a P & P V, hour circles, and each one serves to mark out the spa^ie called one hour in the heavens, dividing the sphere into halves, and seen as straight lines. These hour circles are seen better as such in the second figure, which gives another view of the heavenly sphere. The reason Avhy these circles and di- visions are called hour circles and hours is very simple. It is be- cause it takes exactly one hour for the earth to rotate on its axis through that amount, so that if at any time the stars at hour 6 are seen on the meridian, at one hour later the stars at hour 7 will be on the meridian. Now astronomers count these hours from the })oint E, where the equator is crossed by the ecliptic as it passes from the southern to the northern hemisphere, and this point E they call the vernal or sf>ring equinox. Let s be a star, we see it is on the great circle or hour circle which is marked 3, or the 3rd hour circle ; . then astronomers say that the Equinox. ascension of this star s is 3 hours, or the star is in 3 hours of right as- cension, This by itself is not sufficient to tell us the place of the star, for though we know it is on the hour circle P 1), it does not tell us Avhereabouts on that hour circle. Astronomers therefore call the dis- tance of the star from the equator the declination of the star, this decli- nation being given in degrees, minutes and seconds of Declination of the circum- a star. ference of t'le hour circle. In the figures the star is about from the equator, and towards the north pole, so that its position is said to be 62^° north declination. Sometimes instead of declination astronomers fix the posi- tion of the star by saying its distance from the north pole ; thus they would say that the position of the star s was either 62^° north declination, or27|° north polar distance. Astro- nomers sometimes fix the position of objects by their latitude and longitude, and in the earlier days of astronomy these were almost always used. The longitude of a star is merely its distance from the vernal equinox, measured along the ecliptic instead of along the equator like the right ascension. The latitude is its distance measured along a great circle perpen- dicular to the ecliptic, instead of being measured along a great circle perpendicidar to the equator lilce the hour circles on which the declinations are mea- sured. The longitudes are not given in hours and minutes of time, like the right ascen- sion, but merely in degrees and minutes of arc. Occasionally astro- nomers fix the position of a body by its altitude and azimuth — its alti- tude being the height of the body in degrees etc., above the horizon, and its azimuth its dis- tance from the meri- dian in degrees, etc. ; the horizon being sup- posed divided into de- grees, etc., like the circumference of a circle. Thus, if fig, 36 was a plan of the observer’s heavens, with the zenith at p and the meri- dian at p E, each of the divisions would repre- sent 15° of azimuth, and the star s would be in azimuth 45°. _ The early astronomers determined the posi- tion of the stars and planets by means of instru- ments containing gra- duated circles, one fixed in the plane of the equator and the other revolving on an axis parallel to the axis of the earth. They thus re- sembled in principle the modern equatorial, an instrument which will be subsequently described. The fixed circle showed the angular distance be- tween any tAvo bodies measured on the equator, or their difference in right ascen,^ion, and the movable circle showed the distance of a body from the equator, or its declination. It was very difficult to properly ad- just these instruments, and almost impossible to keep them adjusted. To determine the time, they made use of a quadrant, and after the invention of the telescope they fitted a telescope to this quadrant. The astro- nomical quadrants were generally constructed after the manner of fig. 38, where we see a quadrant or quarter of a circle of wood or iron P ASTR0N03IY. 341 strengthened by cross-bars, and fitted with a telescope, whilst its edge is graduated into por- tions of a degree, and carrying a Astronomical yernier. These instruments were quadrant. usually fi'om five to nine feet in radius, and were mounted on a pillar so as to be exactly perpendicular. They determined the time by observing the altitude of a star, and then by calculation finding out at what time the star would have the observed altitude. The invention of the astro- nomical clock enabled astro- nomers to much simplify their method of observation. Instead of mounting their quadrant on a pillar, they fixed it against a wall built due north and south, so that the quadrant was fixed in the plane of the meridian. They then observed the altitude of a star when it crossed the meri- dian, and noted the exact time when the star crossed the meridian — which would be shown by the moment it crossed a wire put in the centre of the field of view of the telescope. By sub- tracting the complement of the latitude of the observatory from the altitude they ob- tained the declination. Thus Greenwich was determined by Flamsteed to be in latitude 51° 28' 10", and the complement of this angle is 38° 31' 50". Thus a star whose observed altitude was 61° 15' 20" would be in declination -}- 22° 43' 30". Next, the difference in time between the passage of any two stars across the meridian is equal to the difference in right ascension between them. Thus, if a star whose right ascension was known to be 5 hours 7 minutes 21 seconds passed the meridian at 7 hours 1 1 minutes 28 seconds, and another star passed the meridian at 9 hours 25 minutes 51 seconds, the difference between these two (2 hours 14 minutes 23 seconds), added to the right as- cension of the first star, would be equal to 7 hours 21 minutes 44 seconds, which would be the right ascension of the second star. It was only necessary, therefore, to know the exact right ascension of a few bright stars to be able to find the right ascension of the others. By this method observations of the positions of the heavenly bodies were made very much easier, it being only necessary to have a good clock. To avoid errors due to imperfections in the clocks, many observatories had more than one — Delisle being provided with seven or eight — and the mean of all was taken. It was soon found easy, however, to regulate the clock by the observation of the sun, or of stars whose right ascension was known. Thus when the right ascension of a bright star had been fixed by several hundred observations, the errors of the different clocks might be leisonably expec- ted to destroy each other, because if the clock were a little too fast on one day it would be a little too slow on another, and these would counterbalance one another, and the right ascension given by the mean of all the observations might be depended on to be true with- Regulation of in a second of time. Astroiio.*"“”“‘ 1 1 ^cx^oss mers could meridian, calculate, therefore, the exact time wdien this bright star ought to cross the meridian. Say it was 7 hours 50 minutes 30 seconds ; then if they ob- served it to cross at 7 hours 50 minutes 45 seconds, they would know that their clock was 1 5 seconds fast. Occa- sionally they would correct the clock by observing the altitude of the sun or a star at some fixed time by the clock — say 8 hours- — and then calculating the time at which the sun should have that altitude, and if this proved to be 7 hours 59 minutes 37 seconds they would know that their clock w'as 23 seconds slow. After a time they found this second method was much less exact than the first, and they abandoned it. They found subsequently that their large quadrants fixed to a wall, or mural quadrants as they were termed, gradually warped out of and they also found it very difficult to ascer- tain whether they were properly adjusted. These things interfered much with the proper determination of the right ascension of stars, though they did not interfere much with the determination of the declination; for to de- termine the last it was not essential that the instrument should be exactly adjusted to the meridian. Eoemer, a very dis- tinguished Danish as- tronomer, invented a new instrument to ob- viate these errors, and called it a Transit instru- ment. It was constructed after the method shown by fig. 39. It Invention of consists of a telescope mounted in a strong tube, consisting of two conical ends, fastened to a cube in the centre, the cube being mounted on a long axis made in the shape of two cones to prevent its bending. The pivots at the end of this axis are their proper position. 342 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. supported on two metal bearings, firmly fixed on two stone pillars, and at one end it carries a graduated circle. The whole instrument is placed exactly on the meridian, and the axis made perfectly horizontal, so that as the tele- scope turns on the pivots at the ends of the axis it will move in the great circle called the meridian. The eyepiece is fitted with a series of fine wires, as showm in fig. 40, consisting of five vertical and tw'O horizontal wires, the central vertical wire being placed exactly in the place of the meridian, and the others at equal intervals on each side. When an obser- vation is made the astronomer moves the tele- scope until the star appears to move into sight from the right hand, between the two horizontal wires, and he times exactly the moment it crosses each wire. Suppose it crosses the first wire at 7 hours 38 minutes 7 | Use of the seconds, the next at 18 seconds, I the next or middle wire at 28 seconds, the next at 39 seconds, and the last at 49 seconds. Adding all these seconds together and dividing by 5, we get 28-2 seconds for FIG. 40.— THE EXEPIECE OF THE TEAXSIT IXSTBUMEXT. the true time it crosses the central wire, or 7 hours 38 minutes 28*2 seconds for the time of transit. The reason of having the five wires is so that any slight uncertainty in the time the stars crossed a single wire may be removed by taking the mean of the time it crosses the five wires. Because if a little error in one direction be made at one w'ire, it is probable it will be counterbalanced by an error in the opposite direction at another wire. It W' as found much easier to adjust the transit instrument than the ponderous mural quadrants, and the right ascensions wiiich were obtained by means of the transit instrument w^ere found to be far more accurate. It w’as not long, there- fore, before the transit instrument came into general use, and the mural quadrant was con- fined to observing the declinations. Towards the end of the following century the quadrant or quarter of a circle was replaced by a complete circle. The complete outfit of an observatory during the later part of the seventeenth and in the eighteenth century consisted of a movable quadrant, a mural quadrant or circle, a transit instrument, one or more good clocks, and several telescopes. XII. The Verb 0ein (or 0epn), to be. Like ^aben, to have the verb fein (also spelt fcpn), to be, has two characters. When it stands alone, without influencing another verb, it is an intransitive : Hein, I am little. ich hin Mine When it serves to form certain tenses of another verb, it is an auxiliary— as in biff flefommen, doo hiMt ge-kom' -vieti thou art come. Here the verb fein is used to form a tense of the verb tommen. (It should be remembered that as we can w’rite fein or fepn, so also we can say fei or fep, feiP or fepP, where those parts of the verb occur.} Pv\nc\j)al Parts of the Verh. Infin. mood. Tnd. pres. Past (imperf.) Past part, fein, lobe, bin, am. mar, was. gemefen, been. •zinc • hin vahr ge-vay'-zen It will be seen that these principal parts of the verb are quite irregular INDICATIVE MOOD. bin, I am. ich bin 2)U bifi, thou art. doo hisst (ft iff, he is. a irr isst 2Bir ftnb, we are. •veerr zint ffib, ye are. eerr zitc SUBJUNCTIVE MOOD. Prc.’ient, 3^ fei, I (may) be. ich zy 2)u feiefi, thou (mayst) be. doo zyst fei, he may be. airr zy 2Bir feien, we may be. xeerr zy'--;n 3bt ye may be. eerr zy'-et 0ie iinb, they are. 0ie feien, they may be. zee zint zee zy'-en We have here put the indicative and sub- junctive side by side for comparison. The may or that of the subjunctive is not always expressed. In feiefi, mir feien, fie feien, the feiejl and feien are, except in poetry, con- tracted into feift and fei. (3cb ff?/ bu fepfl, etc., is synonymous wdth icb fci, tU feijf.} Imperfect. 3cb wax ich vahr 3cb h^^te ich vai?''-re marfl (mareft) marefi Cmarji) ^ doo vahrst {vahr'est) doo vaii'' -re.'it @t mar ^ er vahr p 2Bir maren veerr vah'-ren ^ dx mdre 3 airr vair'-re o Sir mdren P ^ veerr va ir'-ren 3bt trart (maret) ee7’r valu't {rah' -ret) @ie maren zee vah'-i'cn 3br mdret (m^wO o cer vair'-rct 3- 0ie mdren cr' zee vaii''-ren There is a lengthened form of the second person singular and plural, marcfl and maret, u<=ed chiefly in poetry. It should be noticed thar rile snbjnnotive. as with the vob bvtbcn, is GERMAN. 3i3 identical with the conditional ; so that {6^ tvdre means (That) I were, and also (That) I would be. bin getbefcn ich bin de-ray' -zen bifl geihefen doo bisst ye-rai'-zen dx {fl geihefen airr isst gc- vaUzen finb gcttjefen veerr zind ge- ca l' -zen feib geihcfen |- eerr zeit ge-vai'-zen fei getbcfen ich zg ge-vag'-zen 2)u fetfi geihcfcn doo zyst ge-vai'-zen dx fei o^ibefen airr zy ge- vai'-zen 2Bir feien gewefcn veerr zy'-en ge-va i'-zen feiet gemefen eerr zyet ge-rai' -zen Perfect. 0ie finb gewefen 0ie feien gewefen zee zind ge-vai’-zen zee zy'-en ge-vail-zen Notice that the verb fepn is conjugated not with to have, but with itself ; as we say in English I am come, and in French “ Je suis venu,” 7iot “ J’ai venu,” so in German we say 1 am been, instead of I have been. Pluperfect. ibar geinefen 3^ ibdre ich vahr ge-va y' -zen ihorfi gemefen doo vahrst ge-vac'-zcn gen)efen ich vair're ge-vay' -zen 2)u tt?drefi (thdrfl) doo vair'rest [gemefen (-1 \_ge-vai!.-zen ^ dx mxe genjefen ^ airr vair're ge-vai'-zen Sir irdren gen?efen dx ttjar gcirefen airr vahr ge-vai -zen Sir iraren getrefen veerr vah'-ren ge-vai'- p veerr vair'ren ge-vai' \zen {zen 3^r\barCe)t geirefen P 3|)r ibdrct (thdrt) eerr vahrt ge-vai'-zen eerr v air' -ret [gethcfen {ge-vad -zen @ie tt?aren getrefen ©ieti'dren geinefen zee vah'-ren gc-vai'-zen zee vah'-ren ge- ra i'-zen JTere again the verb fein, and not Ijaben, is used as the auxiliary ; 3^ mar geirefeil, literally “ I was been,” and 3ci^ mdre gcmefen, literally I were been.” Future. INDICATIVE. 3(i; merbe fein, i shall be. ich vairr'-de zern 2)u mirfl fein, thou wilt be. doo veerrst zinc <5r mirb fein, he will be. airr veerrt zinc Sir merben fcin, we shall be. veerr vairr'-den zinc 3t;r merbct fein, you will be. eerr vairr'-det zinc 0ie merben fein, they will be. zee vairr'-den zinc SUBJUNCTIVE. 3d) merbe fein, (that) I shall be. ich vairr'-de zinc trerbelf fein, thou wilt he. doo vairr'-clest zinc ' dx merbe fein, he will be, etc. err vairr'-de zinc [Plural hike the Indicative.] The future of fein, like that of all verbs, is made of ic^ merbe, etc., and the infinitive of the verb. Future Perfect. INDICATIVE. 3^ merbe gemefen fein, I shall have been. ich vairr'-de ge-vai! -zen zine vrirfi gemefen fein, thou wilt have been. doo veerrst ge-vai'-zen zine (f r mirb g e m e f e n fein, he will have been. airr veerrd ge-vai'-zen zine Sir merben gemefen fein, we shall have veerr vairi-'-den ge-vai! -zen zine [been. 3^r merbet gemefen fein, you will have been. eerr vairr'-det ge-vai! -zen zinc 0ie merben gemefen fein, they wdll have zee vairr'-den ge-vai! -zen zine [been SUBJUNCTIVE. 3c^ merbe gemefen fein ich vairr'-de ge-vai'-zen zine Hilt merbefl gcmefen fein doo vairr'-dest gc-rai'-zen zine ©r merbe gemefen fein err vairr'-de ge-vai! -zen zine [Plural like the Indicative.] Here we notice again that fein is conjugated with itself, and not in any tense wdth |aben — literally, “I shall be been,'' not ‘‘have been.” FIRST CONDITIONAL. 3cb murbe fein, I should be. icic vuerr'-de zine H)u murbejh fein, thou wouldst be. doo vuerr'-dest zine dx murbe fein, he wmuld be. airr vuerr'-de zine Sir murben fein, we should be. veerr vucrr'-den zine 3br miirbet fein, you should be. eei'r vuerr'-det zine 0ie murben fein, they should be. zee vuerr'-den zine SECOND CONDITIONAL. 3(^ mitrbe gemefen fein, I should have been. ich vuerr'-de ge-vai'-zen zinc Hlu ifiirbeft gemefen fein, thou wouldst doo vuerr'-dest ge- vai'-zen zine [have been. dx miirbe gemefen fein, he would have airr vuerr'-de ge-vaH-zen zine [been Sir miirbcn gcmefen fein, w^e should have veerr vuerr'den ge- va i! -zen zine [been 3bt murbct gemefen fein, you would have eerr vuerr'-det ge-vai'-zen zine [been 0ie mitrben gemefen fein, they would have zee vuerr'-den ge-vai'-zen zine [been IMPERATIVE. 0e!pn mir, let us be. zinc veerr 0e9 (bu), be thou. ©eipb Obr), be (ye). zg floo) zide eerr 0'c9 er, let him be. 0cipn fie, let them be. zg airr zine zee 'instead of fcpn ibir and fei)n fte, the form Saf t uim fci)n and laf t fie fepn is generally used. Particigdes. Pres. Pret. 0ci)enb, being. ©cmefen, been. z if -end . ge-vai'-zen 34.4 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. XL The Eeign of Charles V. {concluded.) Charles had received warnings from several friends, but he had refused to credit them. At Innsbruck, whither he had gone Charles’s settle questions concerning the humiliation (;;;Q^ncil of Trent, the stoini sud- ^AprU IW 2 ’ ^lenly burst upon him, Three armies, commanded by Alan rice and his new allies, suddenly appeared before Augsburg. jMaurice published a manifesto, setting forth his intentions unmistakably ; and the emperor, utterly bewildered and surprised, and suffering moreover from gout, was obliged to fly by night from Innsbruck across the Tyrolese mountains, to avoid falling into the hands of ]\I a u r i c e . Charles set free his pri- soner, the Elector John Frederick; and to his brother Fer- dinand he entrusted the t£ sk of nego- ciating wotii the victori- ous Maurice. Then was con- cluded the Treaty of Passau, which superseded the Interim, declared that the Council of Trent was not bind- ing upon the Protestants, for whom complete religious freedom was secured, the evangelical church being pronounced separate and indepen- dent ; the Landgrave of Hesse was moreover to be liberated, and all past offences to be covered by an amnesty. And now the Elector John Frederick, who had done and suffered much for his faith and for conscience’ sake, returned in triumph from his long captivity to Weimar. He survived his liberation two years, and to the last maintained the placid equanimity that had enabled him, through evil and through good report, to uphold the cause of religious liberty. Disappointed and discouraged, and despair- ing at length of attaining the purpose of his life, the emperor was now tS’Em^or" >i.™ssed by danger in opposite quarters — ^from the trench and the Turks. Charles hastened to Lorraine, and strove in vain to regain Metz, occupied by a French army and bravely defended by the Duke of Guise. Germany had to pay for religious freedom with the loss of a valuable piece of territory. Meanwhile Albert of Brandenburg- Culmbach, a fierce wild parti- san, had refused to join in the Treaty of Passau, and began to ravage the Franconian lands, attacking the bishops of Bamberg and Wiirz- burg. Charles let him pursue his course un- hindered, and thus excited the suspicions of Maurice that Albert was to be employed against the princes of Germany. Accordingly he marched in all haste against Albert, whom he encountered at Sievershausen, where he obtained a complete victory over his savage opponent, but received a wound of which he died two days afterwards. At first the enemy of the Protestants in Germany, through ambition, he had lived just long enough to retrieve his honour and his fame by becoming the means of se- curing to them honour- able recogni- tion and safety in Ger- many. He is described as in every way a remarkable man — “ de- liberate and secret, reso- lute and en- ergetic, saga- cious in fore- casting the future, and consu m mate in execution of a project.” Albert was compelled to fly to France ; after a time he returned to Germany, found shelter at the court of the Margrave of Baden, and died in the castle of Pforzheim in 1557. Maurice was succeeded in the electorate by his brother Augustus, remembered for his exertions to advance the material pros- perity of his subjects, by promoting fruit culti- vation, and still more by encouraging the manu- facture of cloth, the national Saxon industry. The great objects of Charles’s life, the esta- blishment of unity in religious belief, and the elevation of the imperial power to unques- tioned supremacy in Church and State, had failed. The persistence of the Protestants prevented the forcible suppression of the Beformation ; and the jealousy and distrust of the princes, evidenced in the action of Maurice of Saxony, precluded the hope of unlimited sovereign power. A third object remained — the aggrandizement of his family ; and with this view the emperor negociated the marriage of his son Philip with Mary of England, in HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 315 1554. In the next year was concluded, under the presidency of Ferdinand, the SeU^ous Pesce gf Charles, the important oiAugs urg^ Keligious Peace of Augsburg.” Sept. 26, 1555. Full freedom of conscience, and political as well as religious equality with the followers of the old religion, were by this impor- tant treaty assured to the adherents of the con- fession of Augsburg ; together with continued possession of the church livings and property they held. Toleration, and, if desired, the licence of free departure, were also secured to the Protestant subjects of Catholic princes. But the question whether ecclesiastics who should in future join the new church were to be deprived of their rank and revenues, though hotly debated, was not definitely settled ; and the “ecclesiastical reservation” by which the difficulty was for the time put aside became the fruitful cause of future calamity, and reduced the Treaty of Augsburg from a definite set- tlement to a compromise. Yet it bore great and important fruits. It secured for Germany the blessings of peace and rest; and was the beginning of a long period of material pros- perity, of im- proved com- merce and man uf acture, and of general contentment. The emperor, who had de- puted to his brother the pre- sidency of the Diet of Augs- burg. to escape the humiliation of personally giving up the points for which he had striven for many years, was deeply discouraged at the position of affairs. The loss of Metz, Toul, and Verdun, which, though nominally still belonging to the empire, had in reality been transferred to France, weighed heavily on his care-burdened mind. Among the Germans his name had sunk wofully ; satirical songs, caught up eagerly by the populace, proclaimed on every highway how “ The mistress and the maiden both (Metz and Magdeburg) To dance with Kaiser Karl are loth,” — how the fair land of Lorraine had been lost to the empire. Bodily infirmity and pain- ful attacks of gout increased the constitutional melancholy inherited from his mother, the insane Joanna — a fatal legacy that had em- bittered his life ; and superstitious terrors increased the misery of bodily pain. Though but fifty-five years of age, in constitution he was a broken-down man. wearied with the long battle in which he had been worsted ; and he determined that the curtain should fall upon the drama of his reign before the stage darkened. He resolved to divest himself of THE TOWH-HALL OF GHENT. the power which had proved but vanity and vexation of spirit. On the 25th of , October, at Brussels, he solemnlypjf”, and publicly transferred to his son ^ •’ Philip the sovereignty of the Netherlands, and shortly afterwards that of Spain, Naples, and the vast possessions of Spain in the New World. Great and general relief was felt throughout Germany when it appeared that the rule over Austria and the German states was to be left in the hands of Ferdinand, the brother of Charles ; for the whole nation had dreaded the Spanish influence, and desired above all things to be separated from the affairs and interests of the Peninsula. Charles completed his abdication by laying down the imperial crown in September, 1556 ; and he to whom one-half of the world had belonged, turned his back upon earthly pomp and grandeur, to seek in the retirement of the cloister the peace of mind that had never been his upon the tin one. It was to Spain, to the convent of St. Juste, in Estre- madura, that the grey discrowned Kaiser retired to await in mo- nastic seclusion “the inevitable hour.” Like the great cardinal, his contempo- rary, he might have claimed entrance with the appeal — “ Oh, father abbot ! An old man, broken with the cares of state. Is come to lay his weary bones a- mong you : Give him a little earth, forcharity.” It was little more than half a century since he had been born, at Ghent, to a vast inheritance. He survived his retirement about two years, — leading a quiet life in a dwelling pleasantly situ.ated near the convent, on the declivity of a hill surrounded by plantations. He still took some interest in the affairs of the world he had quitted, and exerted some influence on the empire he had ruled so long. But the gloom of his mind deepened with increasing ill health; and at last the poor superstitious invalid sought to familiarize himself with the idea of death by causing the prayers for the dead to be read over him while he yet lived, — a burial service, during which he was carried into the convent church on a bier like a corpse, being read at his command. In the year 1558 he died, after having played a leading part for forty years in the political history of Europe. He had been the ruler of half the woild, and had found out, like the preacher of old, and like a gi-eat number of people, not far behind him in philosophy and experience, since, that “ all is vanity.” TRE VNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. 34 G XII. Compound Division. Compound Division is the name given to two separate processes — namely (1) the process of dividing a given compound quantity into any required number of equal parts, and finding what each of these parts amounts to ; and (2) the process of finding how often one given compound quantity is contained in another given compound quantity of the same kind. Thus, for instance, the process of finding the amount of each share when £1 85. ^d. is divided into 4 equal parts, is an instance of process (1). The student will probably be able to find for himself that the answer in this case is Is. \d. The method of finding how many times Is. \d. is contained in £1 85. id. is an instance of process (2). The principle on which compound division depends is the same as that on which simple di- vision also depends— namely, that if we separate a number into parts, and divide each of these parts by a given divisor, the sum of all the quotients so found will be the quotient of the whole original number divided by the given di- visor, e.g., 688 4 = 400 -f-44-280-f-4 + 8-i-4, which is easily seen to be true. Suppose we wish to divide £17 9s. id. by 4. Now 4 into 17 go 4 times and 1 over ; i.e., 17 = 4 X 4 + 1. Therefore the given quantity is made up of the two parts, £4 x 4 f.nl £1 9.?. id. The quotient of the first part, when divided by our divisor 4, is £4, and we proceed to find the quotient of the second part (£1 9,v. id.). Now, £1 = 20.9., .-. £1 9.9. id. = 29.9. id. ; and 4 into 29 go 7 times and 1 over : i.e., 29.9. id. may be separated into the two parts, 28.9. and 1.9. id., and the quotient of the first part divided by 4 is 75. Again, the remaining part, I5. id., is equal to \&d., and the quotient of IGd. divided by 4 is id. We have now separated the original £179.9.4^. £ s. d. £ s. d. 4)17 9 4(4 7 4 16 1 20 20 + 9 = 29 28 1 12 12 + 4 into the parts £16, 28.9., and IGd. The quotients arising from dividing each of these parts by 4 are £4, 7.9., and id. Therefore, by the principle stated above, the quotient of £17 9.9. 4^?. divided by 4 is £4 Is. id. Tlie above process might be arranged as example in margin. 16 We say, 4 into 17 16 go 4 times an garde-boutique ( shopkeeper, ) garde-feu, fireguard, garde-fou, railing, garde-manche, oversleeve, garde-manger, meat-safe, garde-meuble, lumber-room^ ( wardrobe, 1 garde-feu (X. opt.) garde-fous garde-manche (Z. opt.) garde-manger garde-meubles garde-robe, j S$^us f Rarde-robes ( plants. garde-vue, screen, shade. garde-vue (Z.) Fifth Rule. — Compounds which consist of verbs and uninfiected words only remain unchanged, as they all offer an elliptical con- struction : un gagiie-petit (jpctit = peu), an j itinerant knife-grinder ; un jiasse-partout, a I master-key, des passe-passe, tricks, un pince- , sans- 1 'ire, a smooth-faced hypocrite ; un mi'i- dire, hearsay ; un on dit, a report ; le or les ifu'en dira-t-on, what Mrs. Grundy will say; etc. X. Cambrian and Lower Silurian Eocks. We have already seen that the oldest rocks in Great Britain are to be found principally in the north-west of Scotland and in Wales. The next in order of succession occur in the same districts and in Ireland, and are designated Cambrian because they are well shown in Wales. These are sue- Cambnanand ceeded by the Lower Silurian strata, which are also well seen in the Principality, — hence the name.* The various subdivisions of these systems are given in the preceding table (p. 290), but geologists are not agreed as to how many of them should be designated Cambrian and how many should be included under the term Silurian. From a geological point of view the question is not worth discussing. In its origin the difference was purely personal ; and in consequence it will probably be some time before a settle- ment is arrived at. The reader must therefore bear in mind that some writers, following the late Professor Sedgwick, include the whole of the Lower Silurian formations under the desig- nation Cambrian ; others, with Sir Charles Lyell. make the division between the Silurian and Cambrian so as to include the Tremadoc slates and Lingula flags in the Upper Cam- brian ; others again draw the line above the Menevian beds ; and the Geological Survey, following the late Sir R. Murchison, make the divisions as we have given them in the table. It is estimated that the Cambrian and Lower Silurian rocks together are at least 30,000 feet in thickness ° in Wales. Supposing, there- xianberis. fore, they were shown one above another as originally deposited, it would be Named after a tribe of Ancient Britons— the Silnres. GEOLOGY. 365 very difficult if not absolutely impossible to examine them. As a matter of fact, in the districts referred to they have been thrown into curves and so disposed that they may be inspected readily enough. A very interesting and instructive series of sections occurs at Llanberisfrom the base of the Cambrian to the Bala beds of the Lower Silurian system, and may be all examined in regular order with no greater fatigue than is involved in the ascent of Snowdon, which from the Llanberis side is but trifling. The visitor to Llanberis has the advantage, as in other parts of North Wales, of being in a position to study some of the later as well as the older geological phenomena. Rounded and scratched bosses of rock — deep scorings at a height of from eleven to thirteen hundred feet above the roadway, “ perched blocks ” (that is, blocks of stone perched on inaccessible ledges where it was impossible for them to have been placed by any other agency than melting snow and ice), mud with ice worn pebbles and scratched stones, indicating the former existence of glaciers — all tell of that comparatively recent period when the pass slate, followed by a great mass of “ grit ” about 1300 feet in thickness. If now we turn down by the Victoria hotel, we shall find, when we strike the pathway up Snowdon, that we have come upon an entirely different kind Ascent of of rock. This is known by the name of Lingula (or Ling vlella') flags — so called because here and in some other places it is very much jointed, and breaks up into flaggy masses, and also contains, when fossiliferous, a shell known as the Lingula (or Lingulella) Eavisii. We next cross a mass of grey slaty rock belonging to the Llandeilo beds, showing in places patches of intrusive eruptive rocks. After these come the beds which form the uppermost part of the mountain, as repre- sented in the annexed diagram, and belong to the Bala or Caradoc series, which here are evidently formed of volcanic ash and cinder. These are in places fossiliferous. Amongst the finer ash and in the coarser beds impressions of a characteristic shell, the orthis flabellula, is not uncommon, and we thus learn that the ashes were originally spread out at the sea was filled with a great “ice river,” which, moving slowly on its way, ground and scratched its rocky channel, and of somewhat later times, when smaller glaciers made their way from the summit of Snowdon and left their “ ter- minal moraines ” in the pass to testify to their former existence ; while the two lakes, which lie in true rock basins, add their testimony to the former presence of the ice, by whose powerful agency they were scooped out. The visitor who wishes to examine those older features with which we have to do should keep on the S.W. side of the pass, and turning to the left hand as he leaves the Cambrian ^ts, railway station, make his way s a 8, . e . ^ Glyn slate quarries, near which he will come upon a mass of “ quartz porphyry.” Whether this rock is Cambrian or pre-Cambrian is at present an undecided question ; but retracing our steps, we take the Cambrian grits and Conglomerates, which come next to them, as our starting-point. The con- glomerate is full of pebbles formed out of older rocks ; the “ grit ” is a hard rock made up principally of fragments of quartz and felspar. Next to these we find beds of slate about 140 feet thick ; succeeding these are more “ grits.” Then come about 400 feet of blue and purple bottom. The points at which the eruptions took place are of course not to be ascertained. Standing on the summit of Snowdon, the observer is in a position to understand some- thing of what he has seen. As he looks round upon the rocky View from the scenery spread out before his gaze, he may realize the fact that Snowdon is not an isolated mountain, formed like a volcano, for instance, but simply the highest peak of a large mountain mass which covers the district, and has been carved into heights and vaUeys in the course of time which stretches out in retrospect beyond our power to comprehend, even if we could express it in figures. Calling to mind the Scandinavian range, which borders Sweden and Norway, as represented in physical maps, he will have no difficulty in understand- ing that the Highlands of Scotland and the rocks of Snowdonia are only outlying portions of the same range ; and then turning his atten- tion to the distinguishing features of the rocks which he has examined in his walk through the pass, he will perceive that they tell of varying conditions of land and sea during their formation. The “ conglomerates ” could scarcely have been laid down far from the shore ; the “ grits ” were probably formed at no great 366 THE UNIVEUSAL lAETRUCTOR. depth ; the slates were originally clayey de- posits laid down in deeper waters ; and these i again, as we have seen, were followed by beds ] which indicate shallower conditions, and so on, 1 including the outbursts ‘ of volcanic eruption giving rise to the ash and cinder on which he stands. The visitor to Llanberis may well be im- pressed with the grandeur of these records of j Cambrian and Lower Silurian ' Cambrian rocks ^imes, but if he confines his j studies to the locality, he will I gain, after all, but a poor idea of i the various formations which make up these [ ancient systems. The Cambrian rocks form the Longmynd hills in Shropshire, and they are present in great thickness in St. Bride’s Bay in Pembrokeshire, where also the Mene- vian beds, a series of “ black and grey slates and flags, with thick beds of sandstone, under- lie the Lingula flags.” XT. Etymology : Classification of Words. § 80. IV. The Verb. § 81. The Simple Sentence : Subject and Predicate. § 82. Verbs Transitive. I 83. Verbs Intransitive. § 84. Active and Passive Voice. § 85. The Passive Participle. I 86. The Present Participle. § 87. Impersonal verbs. . § 88. Auxiliary verbs. Table of Verbs. ^80. IV. We have now got the '.honn, the principal notion, with the w'ords that group themselves round it, — the pronoun, that will •stand for it in case of need ; and the adjective., that performs the various functions of finger- post or of owner, and of scene-painter and describer to the noun or its representative. If we proceed to take a sentence and try how these words stand, we find that they are not enough to give a whole thought. “ A good man ” : here we have adjective and noun, but nothing to express action or existence ; it is not a sentence, or that which gives the sense of a complete thovglit. We want those words which show the very essence of life, its activity, the 6c i/? <7 and doing. “A good xosco. prays" •. here we have a word which tells us what the noun is doing ; prays is a Verb. Put it another way, “ the man is good ; ” the word is expresses the notion that “ the man ” is alive or exists, while what is to be said of him comes after. Is" is a verb. In “I amfi “we ivere," “apples are sweet.” the words am., rvere, are, all indi- cate the same great notion of existence, In “ John runs," “ rain falls," there is not only the notion of existence, but the notion of a definite action ; runs and falls are also verbs. A Verb, then, is a ivord n'hich tells or asserts doing or being. § 81. Nouns may be compared to the bones in a body, adjectives to the flesh which clothes 1 them, but the verbs are the living spirit which animates the whole. A verb is the essential pivot on which every sentence turns, whence it has the ancient name, the w'ord (Lat. verhumj, the chief of all words. For every sentence or thought must have two leading notions : first, the Sulject or agent, the thing thought about ; second, that w'hich is thought concerning the subject’s action, condition, or existence ; this is called the Predicate. In analysing our speech, — that is, in taking it to pieces to find the logical relation of the parts one to another, — these are the two main things to be attended to. By what do W'e express the Subject and the Predicate ? The Subject by a noun or its representative ; the Predicate by a verb, or a verb and the word necessary to complete it. For example, “John runs”: John is the sub- ject, the predicate; “apples are sweet”: apples is the subject, are sweet the predicate, the adjective smeet being added to show -what is said of the subject, for the verb are cannot usually make a predicate by itself (prcfis, were, all parts of the verb named to 6e). The verb to be can only form the predicate when it is intended merely to express the notion of exist- ence, as “ God said, I am." Verbs are of two kinds, Transitive and In- transitive. § 82. Transitive (Lat. trans.itus') means pass- ing over ; a transitive verb is one which expresses the passing of an action from the subject to something or somebody else, as “John cuts a cake,” “ I break my leg.” Here the sense of the verb is not complete without an object. “John cuts ” would be meaningless : what does he cut ? a cake ; and who is it that cuts ? John. The word “ cuts,” then, shows that the action passes directly from “John” to the “cake.” “John ” is called the agent of the verb, “cake ” the object, “cuts” a transitive verb. Again, if we say “ the cake is cut by John,” we still have an action which passes from one to the other : the verb is transitive, but the object “ cake,” which suffers, is placed foremost, instead of the agent “John.” In other words, a transitive verb show's that something is done, or some- thing suffered : by the active I do something to somebody, by the passive something is done to me. Examples : “ Thomas struck John ” ; “ You read, a book ” ; “ Mary nvrote a letter w'hich was read by Sarah ” ; “ The cat was drowned bj' Sam.” The w’ords “ was read ” tell us what w'as done to the letter ; the w'ords “ w'as drow'ned ” what was done to the cat : we take the tw'o together as one verb ; the reason of this will be explained presently. A transitive verb, therefore, requires an object. § Intransitive verbs are those which merely state an action ; the agent does some- thing, and the sense is complete in itself ; nothing of the action passes to anything else: “ I run, the child sleeps, rain falls.” We cannot say that the child sleeps anything, nor could we get any sense by the words “ the child is slept”: the verb sleeps is intransitive ; its sense is complete in itself and the agent child. No intransitive verb, therefore, takes an object after it. An apparent exception to this general rule is where ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 367 a noun formed from the same notion as the verb follows it : “ Let him die the death ” ; “ She sleeps the sleep of the righteous”; “Ye all live loathsome, sneaking, servile lives ” (Otway) ; “ She wept a tear.” Here, in fact, the intransitive verb is turned into a transitive one for the time, because its action creates an object. § 84. It will have been noticed by the student that the Transitive verbs appear in two forms. If we can say “Thomas whipped John,” we can also say “John was whipped by Thomas,” thus stating the same fact, but giving more promi- nence to the suflEerer ; the object of the active verb is put first, and becomes the subject, and the shape of the verb is altered. In the first case of direct action it is a transitive verb of the Active Voice ; in the second, in which the action is borne or suffered, it is said to be in the Passive Voice patior, I suffer). This passive use of the verb, with which the object acted upon is the foremost idea, often to the sup- pression of the active subject, as in the sentence “ that window is broken,” gives so different a turn and force to the sentence that the passive verb is recognized by a form peculiar to itself. In synthetical languages like Latin and Greek this form is indicated by inflexions — e.g., active, amo, I love ; regunt, they rule : passive, amor, I am loved ; reguntur, they are ruled. In English we have no inflexions for the passive, and we are therefore obliged to employ another verb to help out the sense ; the verb to he is used as an auxiliary, together with a participle of the verb which is to give the main idea. Thus, in the sentence “ that window is broken,” the two notions are window (noun) and to break (verb). In saying “the window is broken,” we do not think of the auxiliary is, but of broken ; this part of the verb, having so important a function, is called the Passive Participle. § 85. The Participle, from the Latin partici- pinm, sharing, is so named because it partakes of the nature of an adjective as well as of a verb. As an adjective it qualifies a noun ; as a verb it governs an objective case — that is, it acts upon an object. In the sentence above given, broken is clearly seen to be part of a verb ; in “ The hroken teacups, wisely ranged for show,” it is as plainly seen to be an adjective, showing what sort of teacups they were. The passive participle, too, resembles an adjective in pos- sessing the power to complete a predicate : in saying “ sugar is sweet," we know that sweet is an adjective necessary to fulfil the verbal idea that sugar is in that condition, but cannot be a verb by itself ; if we say “ sugar is boiled,” the w^ords are linked together by the same verb is (called in these cases the copula'), but we know that the word boiled has so much of the verbal sense that we feel sugar is acted on, — with is it makes a passive verb ; while in “ give me some boiled sugar,” it is clearly again used as an ad- jective. The example, “ every floor is rotten,” on the other hand, shows us an instance of a word most commonly used as an adjective (“ a rotten apple ”), but which really is a passive participle, coming from the verb to rot • The passive participle is very often called the Past Participle. Used as an adjective, it contains the sense of past action, — “a broken window” signifies that the window has been broken; but used as part of the passive verb, the sense of time depends on the auxiliary to be. I am loved ” means the present ; “ they were loved ” means the past ; “we shall be loved ” means the future ; but in all three the word “ loved ” remains the same ; it does not bring any sense of past time into the present or the future. The name Passive Participle is therefore more correct than past participle. This applies only to transitive verbs. The participle ending in en or ed of intransitive verbs is rightly called past, as it is used to indi- cate past time — “ he has risen," — and cannot be used in a passive sense, intransitive verbs having no passive voice. § 86. Besides the Passive, there is the Present Participle of the verb, ending in ing, which has an active sense — “ she is writing a letter” ; this must be carefully distinguished from the noun in ing (called the verbal noun) — “ she brought a writing." The present participle, like the passive, is also used as an adjective. Both participles, when coming from intransitive verbs, are sometimes used in an absolute way — so called because the word stands without any bearing on other words in the sentence ; it only belongs to its noun nominative, as “ the wind rising, a storm came up ; ” “I going down, he came to meet me;” “all said and done, you cannot be sorry.” The following lines give examples of the use as adjective, noun, and participle absolute : — “ To each uvihinTcing being. Heaven, a friend. Gives not the useless knowledge of its end : The hour conceal'd, and so remote the fear, Death still draws nearer, never seeming near. Great standing miracle ! that Heaven assign’d Its only thinking thing this turn of mind.” Fope, “ Essay on Man,” Ep. Ill, § 87. The greater part of verbs range them- selves under the two classes of Transitive and Intransitive ; there are, however, two other sets, one of which, though it contains few in number, is of not less importance than these in daily speech. These are the Impersonal and the Auxiliary verbs. Impersonal verbs are those which have no- thing for a subject but the pronoun it, in the third person, the noun being altogether want- ing ; as it seems, me-thinks (i.e. it thinks me), me seems (i.e. it seems to me), it snotvs, it hails, etc. “ It rains, and the wind is never weary.” § 88. The Auxiliary verbs are most important as helps to express the various conditions and relations of other verbs. One instance has come under notice in the case of the passive verbs, which are expressed by aid of the verb to be. The auxiliaries are may (and might), (could), shall (should), owe (ought), will (would), dare (durst), do (did), must, let, have, be. Many of these are employed in Bunyan’s lines, “ The Pilgrim ” : — “ Who would true valour see. Let him come hither ; One here will constant be, Come wind, come weather. There’s no discouragement Shall make him once relent His first avow’d intent To be a Pilgrim. 368 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. WhoBO beset him round With dismal stories, JDo but themselves confound, — His strength the more is. No lion can him fright, 'He'll with a giant fight. But he will have a right To be a Pilgrim.” The auxiliary verbs, as such, are only em- ployed in conjunction with other verbs ; they do not therefore take any other object but the main verb to complete the sense of the sentence. The particular function of each auxiliary will be considered hereafter ; meanwhile we will only say that “ a boy can speak and ovz/ht to speak if he dia'st ; when he would speak, he could if he might ; he certainly must speak if they will allow, for he ha^ said that he did hot like their tyranny before. ‘ Let us speak out,’ said he, ‘ do let us speak.’ ” All which shows what varying moods and times of speahing can be expressed with the aid of these short words. Each has its owm special meaning, fitting its place; as wm see in the exclamation of the Scotchman, who, finding it hard to understand our use of will and shall for future time, eried out, “ I will be drowned, and nobody shall save me ! ” This certainly has the look of a made story ; but it illustrates our point well enough. CLASS. Table of Verbs, classified according to use in a sentence, VOICE. I. Transitive 1. Active — requires an object (Tom strihes Snap). 2. Passive — object becomes subject (Snap is struck) II. Intransitive (no distinctive voices) — complete without object (Snap runs'), III. Impersonal ] intransitive in their nature ■' IV. Auxiliary \ ( (shall, will, can, ete.) MEECANTILE LIFE. II. I. Preparatory Studies— The idea that to be a merchant requires less education than to belong to one of “the learned professions,” so called gmr ex- cellence, will scarcely bear inspection. At first sight there is more of action than of study in the mercantile life ; and the daily duties of a merchant’s office are very unlike the mental labours of a metaphysician or the artistic dreamings of a poet-laureate. The merchant is a man of the world, and requires the activity of temperament, the decision of character, and the hard and persistent spirit of the world to carry him through, together with many amiable qualities to carry him through sweetly. But the notion that the commerce of the world, as it now is, can be conducted tolerably well -without much study should be dismissed as a crazy phantom. However much division of labour may be introduced into the business of merchandise, there will always remain abundant need for study in every branch of a profession requiring so much expertness of mind, so much mastery of details, as well as knowledge of general principles, and the members of which can scarcely hope to get on at all without being linguists. Therefore the practical ad-sdee I have to offer young men, entering upon a mercantile career, is not to entertain the notion that their education, even in the scholastic sense of cariying up the studies and exercises of the schools to higher stages by reading and self-exercise, -with the help of teachers when necessary, may cease when they enter a mercantile office. They should rather believe that it has then only begun. In the office they will have to learn many things almost entirely new to them, and with which they will find what they have already learned at school coming into constant and fruitful connexion ; but without losing their now active duties in the scholar or student, they will still have precious opportunities for pursuing their study of history, geography, foreign peoples and language^ and the arts and sciences of industry ; and to this study they should devote many of their leisure hours, giving it freely such shape and direction as may be most needful in the business in -which they are and are likely to be e-ngaged. This is a view of preparatory studies for mercantile life which in any case will be found to vindicate itself. For though there is a wide difference between a merchant and a merchant’s clerk, yet it is from merchant clerks that not a few great merchants, and many honourable merchants, great or less great, have come ; and few merchants or mercantile firms, -worth the name, will be slow to mark and appreciate in their subordinates the promise of mercantile faculty. II. The Moral Conditions of Success. Assuming the preparatory studies to have been duly attended to, there are various con- stituents of mercantile character, apart from intellectual equipment, which are highly con- ducive to success, and cannot be begun too early in a mercantile career, not only to be obserA’-ed and understood, but to be made the purpose and end of steadfast development. These have their root in moral principle, but moral principle so clearly marked and bounded, so fi-ee from straining at a gnat or swallowing a camel, as to be consistent -svith the legitimate personal interest of business, while at the same time just to the interest of others. The most immoral -news have sometimes been taken of trade, such as that in every act of dealing the gain of one is the loss of another, and so on — PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 369 all which views are found on examination to be narrow, perverse, downward in their ten- dency, and not in the least degree a time reflection of what naturally takes place in commercial transactions, The same deceit has So misread the purely philosophical principles of political economy, that much of what has been said by economists of the free pursuit of self-interest, the advantages of free competition, and the like, has come to signify not uncur- rently what the economists &d not mean at all. All professions and occupations have their little artiflces and downslidings, but unless they are to be supposed to be consistent throughout with morality there can be no basis whatever for any improvement or progress of the human race. The danger, of course, is that when wrong or loose notions begin to prevail XI. Configuration of the Surface of the Earth, The tremendous forces we have indicated are sufficient to account for many of the variations of the surface of the globe ; but there are other causes which must be taken into account, one of the most powerful being the cooling of the exterior crust of the earth. This cooling is described by scientific writers as “ secular,” — that is, gradual, extending over long periods MOUNT EGIIONT, NEW ZEALAND, AN EXTINCT VOLCANO. on this cardinal point, the infection may rapidly spread, and the good be dragged down by sheer force of circumstances toward the level of the bad. An excellent merchant, once replying to a toast at a public banquet in honour of his branch of business, concluded by saying that “the members of his trade were nearly all about as honest as they could afford to be ! ” The naivete of this admission drew forth much applause ; but though in perfect harmony with the upright character of the speaker, it left an impression that the honest man was aware of having done some things himself which were not quite “according to conscience.” The importance of a high moral standard in mer- chandise cannot be disputed, because it there ceases to be a sentiment, and becomes a matter of practice, under one of the most seductive of temptations — the temptation of temporary gain. VOL. I. of time. At first, the semi-fluid globe cooled on the surface, and a thin crust was formed, which contracted while solidifying more slowly than the interior, and fissures were caused, the crust being torn into segments by the force of tension. As the crust thickened, the interior mass began to contract, and the outer was sub- ject to other strains, the bending and crushing consequent upon which formed the chief mountain chains and ocean beds. It is evident that, the nucleus shrinking more than the shell, the latter not being able to bear the strain on it, the shell must crush and sink down upon the shrinking nucleus. This shrinking and sub- sidence would not be regular, but in paroxysms, as they have been termed, the great friction and rapidity of motion developing an immense amount of heat, sufficient to melt again the mineral rocks, producing lava and converting water into steam. This is the theory of Mr. 24 370 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Mallet, and is generally accepted as a probable explanation. The impression made upon our minds by the devastations and calamities produced by these convulsions makes it difficult to Effect of volcanic conceive that they may have convulsions. ^ beneficent aspect. On this subject a writer of considerable ability may be quoted. “ The ‘ convulsions,’ ‘ dislocations,’ and other causes of the broken stratification of the earth, have raised mountains, divided seas, given currents to rivers, and by so doing estab- lished those varieties of soil, local climate and other conditions, to which organized beings are adapted, brought minerals to the surface, and produced the natural harmonies and mutually dependent relations of plants and animals on the land, in the streams and in the sea. With- out these disruptions, the earth would have been still uniformly covered by shallow waters ; or, if some part rose above, it must have been a barren waste or a monotonous surface, on which the living wonders of nature could not have appeared.” The direct volcanic action and the lateral compression described account for the elevation of mountain masses and ridges ; Formation of manner in which these mountams. demands consideration. Isolated masses are generally the result of sudden convulsions ; ranges or chains of lateral compression, caused by the action of the crust TTPICAL FOEMATIOX OP WAVED MOUNTAIN EANQES. of the earth described above, causing deep fissures with uplifted edges, rising into high ridges, or, if the action has been less violent, a series of long folds, the mountains being curved into arches, either entire or broken at the top, forming parallel ridges of about equal height, with longitudinal valleys. In the case of “ mountains of fracture,” as they are termed — those abrupt and broken rid ges formed by the more violent Configuration changes on the earth’s surface, there is generally a central mass, with lower subordinate chains ; the crests are deeply indented to about one-third or one-half of the entire height, presenting a serrated or “ saw-like ” profile, from which is derived the Spanish Sierra and the Portuguese Serra, so familiar in connection wdth mountain ranges in the European Iberian peninsula and in the former Spanish American possessions. Longitudinal valleys are few, but transverse valleys numerous. The mountain chains of greatest altitude are of this character — the Alps of Europe, the Himalayas of Asia, and the Kocky Mountains and Andes of America. Striking examples of the other class of mountain ranges — those of which long curves or “ waves ” are the characteristics — are found in the Appalachians of North America, and the Jura ranges in Europe. In the former three kinds of “waves” or flexures have been ob- served. On the line of greatest disturbance are flexures — (a), one side of which doubles under the other ; beyond that are lower curves (J), one side nearest to the preceding, being more gradual in slope ; and then come “ sym- metrical flexures,” still lower (c), the slopes of which are at about the same angle. The dia- gram shows the typical formation of these ranges. These remarkable mountain ranges will be more minutely described when treating of the physical geography of North America. The Jura mountains consist of several parallel chains with deep longitudinal valleys between. In addition to what has been said respecting the variations of the surface of the earth by violent convulsions, it should be noted that a regular, if slower, Slow elevation power IS at work, producing ^ changes extending over considerable districts of the earth’s surface. Observations show that the Scandinavian peninsula of north- western Europe is rising on the eastern coast at the rate of four feet in a century ; and the whole of the western coast of South America, and nearly half of the Pacific islands, are supposed to be gradually rising, not by accu- mulation of soil alone, but by a gradual up- heaving, due to the continuous exertion of subterranean forces. A contrary process has been observed in Denmark, Holland, Belgium, and the south shore of the Baltic generally, which are slowly sinking ; and there is a de- pression of the Atlantic coast of North America, from Cape Cod to Cape Hatteras, to the extent of about two feet in a century. Valleys, table-lands, and plains will be more particularly referred to in a subsequent article. Considerable modifications of the surface are produced by the movements of glaciers, huge masses of ice, formed from the snow which falls and slides Glacial action, into the deep valleys of the lofty mountain chains. The weight of the ice and of the snow above pushes the mass onwards, frequently far below the snow line. A great glacier of the Alps, near Chamouni, has been observed to travel at the rate of nearly 500 feet in a year, and the central portion moves more rapidly than the sides, which are impeded by the friction against the rocks. The great falls of snow from the topmost peaks into the valleys are often of a terribly destructive character. Forests are rooted up, large fragments of rock are torn away and hurled into the chasm, filling up beds of streams, or diverting them into new channels, not unfrequently occasion- ing destructive floods, and sometimes burying villages beneath the fallen masses; and the air, suddenly compressed by the velocity of the descent, becomes tornado-like in destructive qualities. Avalanches, or mountain snow- falls of this character, may be divided into three classes. Erift avalanches are those occasioned by strong gusts of wind after a heavy fall of snow, when the flakes, not having acquired consistency, are driven together in vast heaps, which the de- clivities are not able to support. Rolling avalanches are, in fact, stupendous snowballs, portions of snow becoming detached from the mass during a thaw, and growing in bulk on MUSIC. 371 their passage to lower regions. Sliding ava- lanches. perhaps the most terrible of all, are due to the melting of that part of the snowy mass in contact with the ground by the natural heat of the earth, which brings down the whole mass from an inclined base. The masses of snow thus precipitated into valleys and mountain fissures produce by alter- nate melting and freezing enor- Glaciers. mous masses of ice, known as glaciers. In Greenland are glaciers of immense but unknown extent ; in no other part of the world does a glacier exceed about thirty miles in length and two or three miles in breadth. The surface is in some cases smooth, in others it presents the appearance of waves ; and there are several well-known glaciers where the ice forms jagged peaks of considerable height. When, in the course of its motion, it passes over an abrupt ridge of the earth’s surface, and is so subjected to severe tension, huge cracks are formed, known as “ cre- Crevasses. yasses,” which present one of the most formidable dangers to explorers. These transverse crevasses disappear when the glacier reaches more level ground — a result which can be easily understood if we bend a sheet of any substance with cracks on its sur- face, which are widened according to the shape of the curve, but are scarcely seen when the surface is level. There are besides longitu- dinal crevasses, caused by the spreading out of the glacier on its emerging from a narrow channel to a wider area, by which the fissures are formed. The unequal motion of the centre and the sides, referred to above, also produces fissures, but of a smaller size. The surface of the glacier is frequently loaded with masses of rock and other accumulations, known as “ moraines,” and the base is usually thickly set with fragments of rock, pebbles, and coarse sand, firmly frozen into the icy mass, and acting as huge rasps to the underlying rocks, scratching or “ striating ” their surfaces in moving over them, or polishing, if the material carried down is sandy or fine. The melting of the ice on the surface of the glacier produces streams, which fall into the crevasses and unite with the water produced by the melting of the ice from the contact with the warmer earth, as the glacier descends, and large rivers issue from the cave of ice which the glacier forms at the spot where it termi- nates. Some great rivers have their origin in this manner, especially the Bramapootra, in Asia, and the Khone, in South Europe. The moraines are frequently of immense size, and are carried to great distances. They are classed as of three kinds. Lateral moraines are those which accumulate on the sides of the glacier, and are not uncommonly masses fifty or sixty feet in height. Medial moraines are collections of fragments in the centre of the glacier, sometimes dividing it laterally into two portions. Terminal moraines are the accu- mulations deposited at the spot where the glacier ends, forming in many cases an irregular broken arch, through which the melted waters of the glacier pass. At a remote period, the glaciers were pro- bably of greater size than any now known to exist, the largest of which is the ... great glacier to the north of Greenland, about 79° N. The effect of the movement of these colossal blocks of ice, bear- ing broken fragments of rock, on the surface of the earth, must be tremendous. Professor Tyndall has expressed an opinion that the present conformation of the Alps has been produced mainly by the action of ancient glaciers. On the slope of the Jura mountains, 800 feet above the level of the Lake of Neuf- chatel, there is a great belt of angular blocks of granite (one of them, the Pierre k Bot, con- taining 40,000 cubic feet, and others only a little smaller), extending many miles, and seventy miles distant from the nearest mass of the same mineralogical character, on Mont Blanc. In Prussia, Kussia, and Poland are colossal masses and smaller fragments, torn from the Scandinavian mountains ; and through- out England and North America (where they are popularly known as “lost rocks”), are numerous similar isolated masses, evidently brought from great distances by glacial action. “ Striated ” valleys, showing the scratched surface, marking the progress of rugged super- incumbent masses of immense weight, and “ fractured surfaces,” will be more particularly described in the articles on Geology. It is possible that some modern exponents of what is known as the “ glacial theory ” may to some degree have exaggerated the effects of the movement of these immense fields of ice ; but there is ample evidence that very remark- able effects have been produced ; in addition to which it is necessary to take into account the force of the currents and deluges produced by the melting of the glaciers as they reached regions where the temperature of the earth was higher. Glaciers exist in Asia, on the northern side of the Himalayas, on the Altai and other ^eat ranges. In southern Europe they are princi- pally in the Alps, where the area of the ice is estimated at 1,500 square miles, and is from 80 to 600 feet in thickness. There are also glaciers in the Pyrenees, and many in Norway, Iceland, and Spitzbergen. In the Andes of South America, glaciers are unknown, although the peaks rise far above the snow line, excessive steepness of the declivities being unfavourable to their formation. XI. . The Staff Notation.— -Clefs. A Clef determines the absolute pitch of notes. A note like that at the side means nothing to the musician : it may be several different sounds. But the clef, literally “ key,” fixes the 372 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. exact position of a note in the region of musical sounds. The clefs now used in G and F Clefs. music are two — the G or Treble Clef, represented at the side, which makes the line around which its - tail curls represent G above the - middle C of a pianoforte: and the F or Bass Clef, which makes the line between the two dots it bears represent the F below this middle C. Older music and instrumental full scores use, however, a different clef for all voices except the bass, and for C Clef. certain instruments. This is the C clef, whose cross-bars mark the place of the middle C of the pianoforte. This is the sound which a man makes in imitating the C of a tuning- fork, and an octave below the sound which a woman makes in doing the same thing. The C clef is movable, and can be placed on any line, although it is now only used in three positions, as below : — Soprano Clef. Alto Clef. Tenor Clef. (First line.) (Tiiird line.) (Fourth line.) The line between the cross-bars, wherever they may stand, is middle C. The reason that this clef is adhered to by musicians is that it shows the absolute pitch of the notes. The conve- nience of singers, to w'hom a multiplicity of clefs is perplexing, has, however, borne down theoretical arguments, and publishers do not now think of issuing popular vocal music in the C clef. For the bass the F clef is used, and the G clef for all parts above it. This involves the error of writing the tenor part an octave higher than it really sounds, and hence the objections of theorists. When the parts are written in this way the music is Full score, “full score,” and the lines stand as follows ; — ■ Soprano. \ A Contralto. Tenor. (8ve lower.) Bass. Some American composers have endeavoured to form a compromise between theory and con- venience by placing the C clef in An American third space, thus placing the compromise, ^g ^ q. gjgf^ using the different sign to show the octave. The theoretical objection to this procedure we shall now understand. A glance at the diagram at the side will show that, by a fortunate accident, the F and G clefs meet at the middle C which occupies the first leger line above the bass staff, and the first leger line below the treble staff. This gives us a considerable range of pitch ; in fact, with the help of leger lines and a few other signs, pianoforte music of the widest range can be expressed on these two staves. Vocal music can also be written in two, four, or more parts upon them ; when this is done, the music is said to be in “ short , T) mi_ j j. 1 j. SllOrX SCdlTGt score. The soprano and contralto parts are written on the upper staff, and the tenor and bass parts on the lower. To dis- tinguish the parts, the higher one on each stave has its tails turned upwards, and the lower one its tails turned downwards. Suffi- cient space is left between the staves for the tails of the alto and tenor notes to clear each other, and the place of middle C is shifted, according as it appears as a leger line above the bass staff, or below the treble. When two parts have the same note, if this be a crotchet or any tailed note, two tails are given to the one head, turning different ways. In the case of a semibreve, which has no tail, a double- note is sometimes used, resembling one note linked to another ; or the two notes are placed side-by-side on the same line or space. This central position of middle C, standing as it does between the two staves, has led some theorists to argue backwards, and say that middie C is the centre of Theoiy and the clef system, from which both the other clefs are derived. To place the C clef in a space would on this theory displace both the F and G clefs, and destroy the wffiole argu- ment about “ the great stave of eleven lines.” Convenience, however, makes short work of consistency, in these days of amateur singing for the million. Write the following four-part chant in Tonic Sol-fa notation. The square marks show the place of the “®rcise. Doh which bears no octave mark (called un- marked Doh). J. Barney. Write the following in the staff notation in full score, unmarked Doh in second space of treble staff, and on fifth line of bass staff : — m : — r:d tr- ir.- Si : d.r m: r d :— Si s,.— fi:- mi:— .fj Si: Si mi:— d ti:d.r m:- d:— d -d d : ti d :— d mi:— fi:- di:li Si:Si di:- ARITHMETIC. 373 XIIT. Compound Division {continued). Exercises and Problems. 1. Divide the following quantities, each sepa- rately by 4, 5, 6, 8, 10, 12, viz. ; — (a) £3 16s. U . ; (&) £17 18s. 9^. 2. Divide {a) £207 9s. '6\d. by 11 ; (5) £814 13s. ^d. by 12 ; (c) £535 18s. M. by 35 ; {d) £1564 7s. 4f) £105 15s. ; (/) £158 12s. M. 2. Find how often £5 Os. 0^^. is contained in {a') £60 Os. 3d . ; {b') £420 Is. 9d. ; {c) £1260 5s. 3d . ; {d) £2520 10s. 3d. 3. If I wish to take an equal number of boys and girls on a school excursion, and have to pay 2s. 3d. for each boy and 2s. 7d. for each girl, how many can I take for £14 9s. 9d. ? 4. If, in addition to the above cost of each child, I give them each a penny bun, a leaf of strawberries, price \\d., and two apples, price \d., how much shall I spend over the £14 9s. 9d.\ 374 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. 5. A thousand men belong to a friendly society, and subscribe I 5 . Qd. a month each. At the end of the year they find that, after de- ducting the amount allowed to sick members, they have £40 to their credit. The average allowance for each sick man was IO 5 . How many men must have received this allowance ? Ansivers. 1. da) 8 ; (J) 10 ; (c) 12 ; (<0 15 ; (0 30 ; (/) 45 . 2. (a) 12 ; (&) 84 ; (c) 252 ; (, where the star B passes exactly overhead, and the star A passes about 10° to the north. He then knows that, as the earth is a sphere, he has moved exactly 10° over the surface of the earth, and the distance he has tra- velled is the length of 10° of the earth’s circumference. He measures the length in miles of the distance he has moved due south — say it is 665 miles-^and he knows that 10° of the earth’s circumference measures 665 miles, or one degree measures 66^ miles. Geometry teaches him that the radius of the earth is equal to 67^^^ of the length of one degree, or in the case supposed 3810 miles. Several years after the determination of Snellius, his pupil Muschenbrock, another Dutch astronomer, measured the length of an arc of the meridian in the Netherlands, and using more powerful instruments than Snellius, found the radius of the earth to be 3960 miles. In 1635, Norwood, an English astronomer, measured the arc of the meridian between London and York, and found the diameter of the earth to be 3982 miles. The most exactly determined value of this period was, however, that of Picard, the French astronomer, wffio found the diameter to be 3959 miles. We now know the radius or semi-diameter is 3962 miles. The popularly current value of 3440 miles was generally used by philosophers until near the close of the seventeenth century, when Picard’s value displaced it ; and we shall see how Newton was misled by it, though we may wonder why he did not take the more cor- rect results of Snellius or Nor- wood, which were even then known to be more accurate. In 1664, whilst residing in Italy, J. D. Cassini obtained a very fine telescope from the most celebrated maker of the time — Campani of Rome ; it was 37 feet in length, had an aperture of 3^ inches, and magnified 130 times. With this telescope he assiduously studied the planet Jupiter. The planet he saw w'as crossed by three dusky belts running parallel to the or- bits of the satellites. On these belts from time to time he saw both dusky and white spots. They none of them appeared to remain visible for more than a few hours, and even the belts seemed to alter in rppear- ance. In July 1665 he dis- covered a large wh‘ e spot on the lower edge of the uppermost or southern belt, and on two or three subse- quent days he saw the same spot, but it appeared to have changed its position. One day it appeared indis- tinct and close to the eastern edge of the planet, and watch- ing it attentively he saw it slowly approach the centre of the planet, when it looked large and distinct : soon after it had passed the centre, and gradually approached the west border, until it was lost near the edge of the planet. In four hours it seemed to have moved over two-fifths of the cireum- B riG. 41. — SIEASUHIiTG AN ABC OP THB MERIDIAN. PIG. 42. — JVPITEE. A 1 ASTRONOMY. 377 ference of the planet. Cassini felt convinced, from what he had seen, that it was fixed to the planet, which was rotating on its axis like the earth, only so much faster that it only required ten hours for a complete rotation. Two days afterwards the spot was again seen by him, only it was one hour later in reaching the centre of the planet ; in 49 hours, therefore, the planet had made five rotations, or took 9 h. 50 m. to rotate on its axis. Cassini continued his observations, and found that in almost exactly 12 days the spot on the planet had come back to the same place as before. It must have made 29 revolu- tions, each revolution taking 9 h. 56 m. This was a brilliant dis- covery, for in the revolution of Jupiter on its axis was a striking confirmation of the fact of the revolution of the earth on its axis. Cassini continued his observa- tions, and before long discovered a very minute black spot on the planet, much smaller than those dusky spots he had seen. This spot moved quickly across the planet from extreme edge to edge, and did not grow indistinct and disappear insensibly near the edge. Soon after he discovered other similar black spots, some of which seemed to take only a little over two hours to cross, and others required nearly five hours ; so that in most cases they moved far quicker than could be accounted for by the rotation of the planet, and therefore could not be black spots fixed on the surface of the planet itself. Cassini soon found that these spots were only to be seen when one of the satellites was in or near its time of transit across the planet, and that they moved at about the same rate as the satellite itself. He immediately sus- pected that they were the shadows cast by the satel- lites ; so that he had seen the phenomena whose ex- istence had been predicted by Galileo, but which his predecessors had been un- able to see Cassim discovers^ ^ i n g t O transit of Jupi- , ter’s satellites, their tele- ^ scopes not being powerful enough. Later he was successful in seeing some of the satellites themselves in transit over the disc of Jupiter, when they appeared as minute brighter spots on the dusky belts of the planet. Having discovered the cause of these spots, he was able to predict the time when they would be visible ; and these predictions being verified by observation, it established the correctness of his explanation of their nature. Continuing his observations, Cassini found that the satellites did not move, as had been FIG. 43 . — SATELLITE IN TKANSIT. FIG. 44 .— MAES. supposed, in the same plane as the orbit of the planet, but in a plane inclined to it by 2° 55', and that the equator and the belts of the planet were also inclined to the orbit of the planet b the same amount ; so that, as in the case of the earth, the axis of Jupiter was inclined to its orbit. These discoveries he embodied in a series of tables of the satellites, from which could be obtained their position and the times of their eclipses and transits. Next turning his telescope on Mars, he discovered a number of greyish spots on the disc of that planet. He found that every day these spots seemed to reappear about three-quarters of an hour later, and from a com- parison of his drawings of the planet was able to fix on 24 h. 40 m. as the time of its complete rotation on its axis. This value has been ^oHtion of found by subse- quent observations to be very nearly correct. On examining Venus, he also suspected that its bright disc contained some very faint markings which changed in position, and seemed to indi cate that the planet revolved on its axis once in 23 hours. He could not feel sure of this, for, like all the earlier astronomers, he found Venus a very difficult object to observe. In 1669, on Louis XIV. founding a Eoyal Observatory at Paris, Dominic Cassini was appointed its head, and leaving Italy took up his residence in France, and energetically resumed his observations of the physical aspects of the planets. On Oct. 25, 1671, Cassini was watch- ing the planet Saturn with a telescope* 17 feet in length, with an aperture of 3 inches and a power of about 100 — one of the best instruments in the equipment of the Eoyal Observatory. The ring of Saturn was then presented almost edgeways to the earth, so that it looked like -a narrow line of light ; and Cassini noticed a small star to the west of the planet, and nearly in the s \me line as the ring. On the following evening he was surprised to find that though the planet seemed to have moved a considerable distance amongst the stars, this particular star seemed to haveaccom- ‘panied it. Accordingly he closely watched during the following night, and found that it moved with the planet, and slowly revolved round it in about eighty 3)iscove^ of days ; it was a new satellite to Saturn. Towards the end of the year Cassini lost sight of the new satellite, and could not see it, although it was looked for most 378 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. perseveringly. He therefore procured a more powerful telescope — one of 34 feet focus, with an aperture of nearly 4 inches, and a power 130 — and resumed his watch for the satellite, but still without success. On the 13th Decem- ber, 1672, he suddenly re-discovered it, and continued to watch it until near the end of the month, when it again disappeared and could not be found. On the 23rd December, 1672, Cassini saw a star in the place where the missing satellite ought to be, and thought he he had again re-discovered it, but on the subse- quent day he found it had moved much farther than it could have done had it been the missing satellite ; yet it was certainly not moving like a star. The suspicion shot across his mind that he might have been so fortunate as to have discovered yet a third satellite. Unless his first observation was imperfect, it seemed to him that this must be so, for no star could have moved like this object. The observations of the ii5. 45. — jAi'uax. next two or three days settled the matter : it was a new satellite, and one moving round the planet in about four and a half days. Later, Cassini was successful in re-discovering the missing satellite, and he found Strife yaria- periodically disappeared, br^htae^s. Whilst moving in the western ' half of its orbit round Saturn the satellite was bright and distinct, but during the six weeks it was moving in the eastern half of its orbit it remained invisible. The satellite first discovered by Cassini isnow called lapetus, and that afterwards seen is called Rhea, whilst the satellite discovered by Huygens is called Titan. All these satellites moved very nearly in the same plane as the ring, which, according to Picard, is inclined at an angle of 31° to the ecliptic. XII. The Consonants {contimied). § 59. Ch. In strictly French words cli = sh before a vowel : chapeau, hat, cheval, horse, chien, dog, c?wse, thing, chute, fall. Before consonants and at the end of words it = A : aurochs (proks''), hrachmane (hrahmanf'), chlo- rare, chretien, chrestomathie (tie'), chroniquc cochlearia, ichneumon, ichthyolithe (iktiolit'), technique ; Brisach, loch, Munich, Henoch, Roeh, schlich, Zurich. Rems. — 1. cht = k: yacht=yak, Mastricht, Utrecht. 2. ch=g in drachme. 3. In the following c/t final = 5^.* Auch, Belpech, punch. 4. Almanach (nach = na'), but un ahnanach interessant (^na-kin). In the following, mostly derived from Greek, ch, although placed before a vowel, = h : archaisme, archange, archeologue and derivs., archetype, archiepiscopal, archonte, Bacchus, brachial and all in hrachi and brachy, cate- chumene ; words in chalc, chame, chao, chair, cheil, chel, cheir, cher, chil, chir, chism, conchi and conchy, choa, choe, chol, chend, chcr, cha- lybe ; words in dicho, inch, isch, psycha, psycho, tracfio, tricho, trocha, orchi, orchi, chus, lichen, malachite, orchestre ; and many proper names. In the following, which have a similar origin, ch = sh : alchimie, arche, archcreque, archi- diacre, archiduc, architecte, catechisme, cate- chiste, cherubin, chirurgie and derivs., rachi- tique, stomachique, tachygraphe ; Acheron, Achille, Archim 'ede, Ezechiel, Michel. Yet in Michel- Ange (Michael Angelo) ch = h ; machia- vHique Q.nd. machiavelisme make^A; although Machiavel is pr. Makiavel. § 60. D is pr. like the English d, and dd = d : drame, drama, addition, reddition. It is mute at the end of genuine French words ; abord, bavard, pied, chaud, froid, Saint-Cloud, etc. It is heard in Abiad, Cid, David, ephod, god, lamed, Nemrod, Obed, sud, talm/ud. The articu- lated final d remains a d before a vowel. David arait battu les Philistins, David had beaten the Philistines, sa.j da-tn-da ; lesud-ouest, the south-west, say le su-douesi! ; but when the inarticulated final d stands before a vowel it is changed into a ^ : un grand arbre, a tall tree ; un profond abime, a deep abyss; entend-il? does he hear ? coud-ellc ? does she sew ? il repond a tout, he answers everything ; quand on voudra, whenever it is wished ; say ta, ta, til, telle, ta, ton. This connection can only take place between w'ords that are grammatically connected — as noun and adjective, preposition and complement, etc. ; avoid it therefore in these phrases : Vhomme grand ] et le grand' homme sont deux ; on le blame, mais'~'au fond | il n'a pas tort; il y a un nid ] au bout de cette branche ; because there is no grammatical connection between grand and et,fond and il, nid and au. Rems. — 1. Words in rd (as also words in rt") make the connection slightly with the r ; U tousse comme un renard enfume (na-reri) ; son abord a ete bienveillant (bo-ra). 2. In fami- liar conversation d in froid, cold, is not con- nected ; in the plur. say des froids excessifs = froi-ze ; laid preceding its noun is connected ; un laid animal = un lai-ta, pi. de laids animaucx = lai-za, but say laid a faire peur = U a; pied, foot, is hardly ever connected out of the phrases pied-a-terre (house of call or occasional lodgings) avApied en cap (cap-a-pie). § 61. A’= English /, and ff=f: faible, weak, bouffon, buffoon. It is sounded at the end FRENCH PR 0 NUN CIA TION 379 of a word : href, short, decisif decisive, savf, except, suif tallow, etc. This f is carried on : vif -argent (vi-far'), quicksilver, un canif a deux lames (ni-fa'), a double-bladed penknife, etc. ; it is still sounded when an s follows it : des canif s d deux lames {ca-nif -za). Special cases require comment : 1. hceuf, ox, sounds the /, and connects it ; nous achetons du hceuf, du hoeuf CL la mode (hoeu-fa') ; in hceuf gras, hceuf sale and plur. hceuf s do not sound/. Note also that with / sounded ceu is open, and with f mute ceu is close : des hoeufs et des vaches, say hceu-ze. 2. Chef sounds / in sing, and plur. ; un chef hah He (che-fa'), des chefs hahiles (chef-zd) ; in chef-d' ceuvre /is mute. 3. Cerf. In order to distinguish this word from serf, a slave, it should always be pr. e'er; it is pr. so in eerf-volant, nerf de cerf, un cerf aux ahois, and in the plur. des cerfs et des dairies (c6’?*-e) ; otherwise opinions differ. 4. Clef is always pr. cle, and some write it so : une clef e nor me \cle-e) and des clefs enoi'mes (cle- ze). 5. Nerf sounds and connects /in the sing. : ila du nerf Qnerf), le nerf optigtie {n'er-fop). But say n'er in nerf de hceuf and nerf de cerf; in the plur. elle ascs nerfs = n'er. 6. Neuf means (a) new, (J)') nine ; (a) sound the / in sing, and plur. : un hahit neuf, des hah its neufs, Chdteauneuf ; but when the first component is neuf say neu : Neufchdtel, Neuf chateau, Neuf Brisach. (V) mute before a consonant: neuf colis ; neuv' before a vow'el : neuf amis, neuf heures ; neuf when standing last in a sentence or as an inde- pendent noun ‘.fen ai dix-nevf; donnez leneuf de carreoAi. 7. In ceuf sound and connect / in the sing. : un ceuf d la coque (ceu-fa'). In ceuf fi'ais, ceuf dur, it is optional ; in the plural say ceu : des ceufs durs {d'e-zeeu-durs) ; when / is inarticulated the sound ceu is close, as in hceuf s above. § 62. G, like the English g, is a soft guttural before the vowels a, o, u, and before consonants : garni, lagune, Gorgone. r'egle, grimjrcr, frag- ment, enigme, ghetto, Enghien {an-gairi), gan- gr'ene. The questions affecting gn and gu have been fully treated in §§ 26 and .54. It is a soft sibilant, like s in ])leasure, before e, i, and y: gernie, gihier, gingemhre, gypse. Before proper nouns of Saxon origin, as Gessner, Giessen, Geyser, etc., g would be guttural. When the sibilant sound of g is to be pre- served before a, o, or u, an e mute is inserted ; il mangea, le bourgeois, la gageure. See § 19, e. If the guttural sound is to be retained before e or i, u is inserted : guerre, war, guimauve, mallow. See § 26. GG = g except when followed by e, when the first g is guttural and the second sibilant : aggraver — agraver, agglomer'cr — aglornerer, snggerer = sugh-jerer. At the end of a word or a syllable g is not heard : calemhourg, Cherbourg, doigt, doigter, doigtier. Hang, faubourg, hareng, legs, sang, sangsue, vingt, vingtaine, Wurtemherg. In hourg-epine, joug, zigzag, and some foreign words, such as hourgmestre, Berg, Berg-op- Zoom, Bergheim, grog, whig, Zadig, etc., the g is audible. Where the g may be connected it is generally sounded like k : un joug insup- portable {jou-ldn), '\fl. des jougs insupportables (^jough-in), un long espoir ijon-h'es), pi. de longs espoirs {lon-zes) ; aller de rang en rang {ran- kan), pi. des rangs eleves (ran-ze) ; un sang inipur (^san-kim), un sang illustre (^san-hil) ; un bourg etendu, hour-e, or bourk-e, optional.* § 63. H is never heard in French ; it only serves etymological purposes, in a somewhat erratic manner now and then ; yet in Nor- mandy and some other western parts of France a slight aspiration is perceptible in the people’s speech. This, although encouraged by M. Littre, is discountenanced by the Academie and Parisian practice. Nevertheless, the h is called mute and aspirate ; it is mute when it allows elision and contraction, and aspirate when it does not, or when a slight pause is required before it. Since h is not heard in any position — ha hi he hai han hon heu are read a i e ai an on eu and the rhi j'ho d'ha s'hu Vheu pha are read te ri jo da su leu fa. There are in French more than 3000 words beginning with h ; of those between 700 and 800 are aspirated. It would be tedious to give a complete list of the iatter, every dictionary settling besides this matter. We shall give (1) a list of the commonest words ; (2) a few general rules ; and (3) some special cases. 1. Ha, hahleur, hache, hagard, haie, haillon, haine, hair, hairc, halage, hate, haleter, halle, halleharde, halo, haloir, halte, liamac, hamcau, hamqre, hanap, hanche, hangar, hanneton, hanter, happer, haquenee, haquet, harangue, haras, harasser, harceler, hardes,hardi, harem, hareng, hargneux, haricot, haridclle, harnais, haro, harpe, harpie, harpon, hasard, hase, liHe, hau- han, hauhert, haut, have, havoc, he, heaume, hein, hHer, hennir, heraut, here, herisson, heron, heros, herpes, herse, hetre,heurter,hihou, hie. hideux, hierarchie, hisser, hoherau, hoche, I hocher, hochet, hold, homard, honnir, home, hoquet, hoqueton, horde, horion, hormis, hors, hotte, houhlon, houe, houille, houle, houlette, houppe, hourdage, houri, hourmi'i, housse, houx, huche, huee, huguenot, huit, hulotte, humer, hune, huppe, hure, hurler, hussar d, hutte. 2. (a) Derivatives follow their originals : haut having an asp. h, hautain, hauthois, hau- tesse, hauteur, etc., are all aspirated. (Z>) The h in the body of a word maintains its original character : aheurter, enhardir, cohorte, rehausser, are read a-eur, en-ar, co-or, re-au, because the h is originally asp. ; ahhorrer, hienheureux, exhumer, inhahile, are read a-ho, hien-neu, e-gzu, i-na, because the h is originally mute. (c) Most proper names coming from the classical languages have a mute h : Hel'ene, Hippocrate, Horace, Hom'ere, etc. Those de- rived from a Saxon source are aspirated : Ic Hanovre, la Hesse, Ic Holstein, Hull, les Hus- sites, etc. (^d) There is not one word beginning with hy that has an asp. h : V hygiene, V hymen, etc. 3. The h in heros is asp., but it is mute ♦ The words of foreign origin, as vihiq, grog, Zadig, . which end with the soft guttural, would not change that soft guttural into a hard one : le grog est d mon gout, do not say gro-ke, but gro-ghe. 380 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. in all the derivatives — Vheroinc. Vheroisme, hero'ique, Mroiquement. One says la Hollande, la Hongrie, butZa toUe (V Hollande, du froinage d' Hollande, de Veau de la reine d' Hongrie ; the influence of trade, which has no time to waste on words, makes itself felt here. — Huxt is asp. : le huit de tr'ejle, quatre-vingt-huit = vin-uiif] but dix-huit — di-zuitf , and vingt-huit = vin-tuit'. — Hier: lejour d'hier, but in avant- Mer it is optional to say avan-i'er or avan-tier. — In a lofty style Henri is asp. ; in a familiar style it is mute : Jeanne d'Albret, mere de Henri IV. ; la Henriade, po'eme epique de Voltaire; but la mere d' Henri vend despommes. § 64. J^has the sound of the Fi’ench g before e or i (see § 62) : jaune, gone, jujube, eajole, bijou, j'humilie. Be careful never to put the d portion of the letter as it appears in the English word jaw ; j is not a double articula- tion. § 65. English 1i. It only appears in words of foreign origin, and is never mute; arack, kilometre, knout, moka. XII. The Tudor Period ix England. Henry VII. and Henry VIII. The reign of the Tudors is the epoch of the establishment of the Beformation in England ; and the great movement is as closely inter- woven with the rule of those monarchs, as in France wdth the government of Francis I. and his successors, and in Germany with the history of the emperor Charles V. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, Henry VII., the first of the Tudor sovereigns, sat on the English throne. This king has been much censured by historians for cold- heartedness and cruelty ; but Reigi^f cruel, in the worst sense of the word, he was certainly not. A cruel man would not have twice spared Warbeck, or have flung a con- temptuous pardon to the miserable Simnel. But Henry was profoundly distrustful and persistently selfish. Where his interests came into question, no artifice was too mean, no subterfuge too disgraceful. Sir Thomas More, in his history of Henry, well and con- cisely defines the consequences of the king’s inveterate love of secrecy and intrigue; “All things were so covertly de- Af meaned,” says Sir Thomas, “ one thing pretended and another meant, that there was nothing so plain and openly proved, but that yet, for the custom of close and covert dealing, men had it ever in- wardly to suspect, as many well-counterfeited jewels make the true mistrusted.” His sus- picion and harshness are partly excused by the circumstances of his reign. His title to the throne was defective. He derived his sole right from his mother, the Countess of Rich- mond, a descendant of John of Gaunt ; but the Somerset branch, to which she belonged, had been expressly excluded from the succession, and the countess was, moreover, still living at Henry’s accession. He had seen many members of his house perish by the axe ; and profound hatred of the Yorkist party had become deeply rooted in his nature. He married Elizabeth, the heiress of the rival house, to strengthen his own position ; but he distrusted his gentle and faithful wife, deferred her coronation in an insulting manner, and took care that in the act of settlement, by which the crown was secured to him, no mention was made of Eliza- beth or her family. Avarice became his lead- ing passion, to the exclusion of ambition itself : the sum of £1,800,000, which he left at his death, bears witness to the rapacity of the first Tudor king. At his accession the English had enthusiastically expected that the old animosi- ties between Y ork and Lancaster would be buried in oblivion. They found themselves wofully deceived. A new King Stork had appeared where King Log was expected ; and the general disgust found vent in the various revolts that interrupted tTie tranquillity of the king’s reign. Of these revolts, the first was a hasty and ill-considered rising of Yorkist partisans under Lord Lovel and Sir Humphrey Rebellions- Stafford. It ended in the flight Loveland of Lovel and the execution of his StafiFord, coadjutor. Far more important April, 1486. was the rebellion of Simnel, the baker’s son, who was made to assume the character of the Earl of Warwick, the son of Clarence, at that time an imbecile prisoner in thei,ainbert Simnel Tower, — ^for it was supported by defeated at the influence and weMth of the Stoke, June 18, Duchess Dowager of Burgundy, 1487. the sister of Edward TV., and by several noble- men of importance. But the battle of Stoke disposed of Simnel’s pretensions once and for all ; and Henry wisely considered that in making a scullion of Simnel he was choosing the most practical way of crushing that un- happy impostor. Very different in magnitude and gravity was the great treason which taxed all Henry’s vigour and ingenuity to combat and subdue — the in- surrection of Perkin Warbeck. With great skill that pretender played the part of the unfortunate Richard Duke of York, the younger of the two sons of Edward IV., respecting whose murder in the Tower by order of the Duke of Glouces- ter there is no reasonable doubt. The belief accorded to Perkin’s incredible story, not only by the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy, who publicly acknowledged him as her nephew, but by the kings of France and Scotland, all contributed to render the situation perilous and perplexing. Henry met his difficulties with con- summate skill, contriving to turn even the most unfavourable circumstances to his advantage. Already, in 1492, when the treaty of Etaples with^^P ’ Charles VIII. enriched Henryfrom the coffers of I'rance, as the war had enriched HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 381 him by the suras voted in England for its prosecution, — the astute king had managed “to pluck from the nettle danger the flower safety.” He made the expulsion of Warbeck from France a prime condition of the peace, and took the opportunity of ridding himself, by process of law, of some of his dangerous enemies; while even those who in former days had been instrumental in raising him to the throne of England did not always escape. Thus the Lord Chamberlain Stanley, the brother of the Earl of Derby, Henry’s father-in-law, who had placed the crown on his head on Bosworth field, convicted of treasonable corre- spondence with Warbeck, was executed without mercy ; and every step in the impostor’s career was tracked and counteracted by the subtle king, with a practised and persevering duplicity worthy of Louis XI. himself. The treason of Warbeck extended over more than eight years. Expelled from France, he took refuge in Burgundy, pro- Warbeck’s tected by the Duchess Margaret, surrounded by the discon- (149L1^). tented and the outlawed among the English nobles and gentry. In 1495 he was repulsed in an attack on Deal, in the fight on Blackheath, June 22, 1497. Indeed, the extortions of Henry, and his inveterate propensity to enrich himself at his subjects’ ex- pense, maintained in the country U 97 a smouldering discontent ever ’ ready to break forth ; but his vigour an{^ capacity were equal to all emergencies; and his common expression, “ he desired but to see the rebels,” aptly illustrated his bold policy. Of his skill as a negociator, the various treaties he made bear sufficient wit- ness, especially the Magnus Intercursus, or treaty of commerce between Flanders and England, concluded with Duke Philip the Fair, the father of the Emperor Charles V., in 1496 ; and still more the Malus Intercursus, a second treaty wrung from the necessities of Philip, who had been driven ashore at Wey- mouth, on his way from Flanders to Spain, and was thus to some extent in the power of the English king. The league of Cambray, formed by France, Ger- ^ “ many and the papacy against the republic of Venice, was joined by ’’ Henry. The confederates of Cambray overran the territory of the republic, but the position VIEW OF OLD LONDOX. and returned to Flanders. Expelled thence, at Henry’s instance, by Duke Philip, he took refuge with James IV. of Scotland, who be- lieved his plausible tale, and gave him the Lady Catherine Gordon, Lord Huntley’s fair daughter, for his bride. But never did adven- turer less deserve support. Warbeck was smooth and insinuating, but a coward. When at length, in 1497, he landed in the west, he lost heart at the approach of the royal army, and took sanctuary at Beaulieu, in the New Forest. Delivered into the hands of Henry, he was imprisoned in the Tower, whence he escaped, only to be recaptured, once more committed to custody, and ultimately hanged at l^burn, in 1499, for a conspiracy to escape, with the imbecile Earl of Warwick, the miserable de- scendant of the Plantagenet kings. The exe- cution of Warwick was a cruel measure ; that unhappy youth was, to use the expression of Holinshed, “ a very innocent,” or completely idiotic. Other insurrections troubled the repose of Henry’s reign, the chief being that of the Cor- nishmen who marched into Kent under Lord Audley, Joseph the farrier, and the lawyer Flammoy, and were so signally put to rout of the city itself amid the lagoons enabled it to bid defiance to them. The league was broken up by the secession of Pope Julius, who had only joined it for personal motives. The reign of Henry was useful to the country, and contrasts favourably with the stormy period that preceded it. The abolition of the old feudal right of “maintenance,” in virtue of which the barons had surrounded themselves with great numbers of vassals, who lived at their expense, and were always ready to fight in their quarrels, curbed the formerly exor- bitant power of the great houses ; and the Statute of Liveries, rigidly enforced by the jealous king, was another step in the same direction, by imposing a tax of five pounds per month for each re- tainer, thus rendering the expense of a large retinue ruinous even to a noble. The old feudal power of the barons was gone, and Henry took care that it should not revive. There was no room, in his scheme of pohty, for a “ Warwick the King-maker.” The Statute of Fines also facilitated the sale of estates by impoverished nobles to rich commoners ; and gradually a new nobility arose from among the people, far less military and autocratic 382 TBE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. than the barons of former days. The condition of the people generally was rapidly improving. Villeinage, the state of bondage which attached the serf to the soil as part of the estate, was now rare ; many peasants held land by copy- hold tenure ; and the kingdom increased rapidly in wealth, by the spread of commerce and the improvement of manufacture, especially that of woollen cloth. Hallam enumerates five points that guarded the liberty of the subject against the authority of the king : firstly, that no new tax could be levied except by consent of Parlia- ment ; secondly, that no new law Improvement could be made except by assent , and authority of Parliament ; thirdly, a warrant was necessary before a man could be imprisoned, and every accused person was to be tried at the next Sessions held after his committal ; fourthly, in the county where the offence was said to have occurred, the accused person must be pub- licly tried by a jury ; and fifthly, the servants of the king were responsible to any man whom they might injure, and could not pie id the king’s command as an excuse for an unlawful act. On the other hand, the establishment of the Court of Star Chamber, which overrode the decisions of the regular tribunals, ^ ® V inflicted punishments of atrocious severity, and became indeed a mere instrument of tyranny in the sovereign’s hands, seems to point out this reign as the commencement of an arbitrary and despotic period ; but the Tudors, though high-spirited and peremptory, and sufficiently inclined to tyrannize over Parliament and people alike, had no standing army. Henry’s yeomen of the guard and buffetiers or “ beefeaters” were barely sufficiently numerous to keep watch and ward in the royal residences ; and thus, as Macaulay points out, the Tndors were com- pelled to rule on popular principles, as they had no force to oppose to an outbreak of revolt, if the rising had become general. Thus, with much of the outward appearance of despotism, their rule was essentially popular ; for a des- potism cannot exist without an army readily available to compel obedience. Not only was serfdom gradually dying out in England : other mediaeval customs were going with it. “The benefit of Feudalism clergy,” by which many a layman who could just manage to read a verse of Scripture, or a legend of a saint, had saved his neck, was to be pleaded only once by a criminal; and the right of sanctuary was also greatly restricted. Various good laws date from the reign of Henry. These are highly praised by Lord Bacon, who pronounces them “ deep but not vulgar ; not made upon the spur of a particular occasion for the present, but out of providence for the future, to make the estate of his people more and more happy.” In nothing was the transition from feudalism to constitutional government more marked than in the gradually increasing power of the law courts, though these were at times grievously hampered by the Star Chamber. XIII. The Comparison of Adjectives and Adverbs. Almost all adjectives, and some adverbs (especially those derived from adjectives), have three degrees of comparison, the Positive, the Comparative, and the Superlative, as ; — Positive. Comparative, altns, high altior, higher In English the ending er and the word more are signs of the comparative degree, and the ending est and the words most and very are signs of the superlative ; but in Latin the rules for forming the comparative and superlative degrees are as follow : — 1. Adjectives ending in us pure {i.e. preceded by a vowel) form the comparative degree by magis, more, and the superlative by maxime, most ; as dubius, doubtful, magis duhius, more doubtful, maxime dubius, most doubtful. 2. Adjectives ending in us impure, and other adjectives, change i or is of the genitive into ior for the comparative, as durus, hard, durior, harder, /eZ'ia?, happy, /(jZicior, more happy. 3. Adjectives in er form the superlative by adding rlmus to the positive, as puleher, beautiful, pulchHor, more beautiful, puleher- rimus, most beautiful; and celer, celerior, celer- rimus, swift, swifter, swiftest ; vetus, ancient, makes veterrimus, most ancient (from which we get the English word veteran). 4. Adjectives in dicus, ficus, vblus, are com- pared in entior for comparative, and entissimus for superlative degree : as mdledicus, abusive, maledicentior, more abusive, maledicentissimus, most abusive; beneficial, beneficentior, benejicentissimus ; benevolus, benevolent, bene- volentior, benevolent issimus. 5. Six adjectives form the superlative degree by changing is into limus: facilis, ,similis, like, gracilis, slender, difficilis, difficult, dis- .similis, unlike, humilis, lowly. Superlatives, facillimus, simillimus, gracillinius, humillimus. 6. Adjectives of irregular comparison : — Bonus, good, melior, tetter, optimus, best. Malus, \)ad., pejor, worse, pessimus, worst. Magnus, great, major, greater, maximus, greatest. Parvus, small, minor, less, minimus, least. Multus, much, plus, more, plurimus, most. Nequam, wicked, nequior, more wicked, nequis- simus, most wicked. Dives, rich, divitior or ditior, more rich, divi- tusimus or ditissimus, most rich. Exterus, outward, exterior, more outward, ex- tremus or extimus, outermost. Inferus, low, inferior, lower, infxmus or imus, lowest. Superus, high, superior, higher, supremus or summus, highest. Posterus, late, pestremus or postumus, last. Dexter, propitious, dexterior, more propitious. dextimus, most propitious. LATIN. 383 Juvenis, young, junior {natu minor), younger, natu minimus, youngest. Senex, old, senior (natu major), elder, natu maximus, eldest. Some adjectives in the comparative and superlative degrees are formed from prepo- sitions ; as from Intra, within, interior, inner, intlmus, inmost. Tjltra, beyond, ulterior, farther, ultimus, far- thest. Citra, on this side, citerior, hither, citlmus, hithermost. Prope, near, propior, nearer, proximus, nearest or next. PrcB, before, prior, former, primus, foremost or first. Some adjectives have no positive to which they can be referred ; as Deterior, worse, deterrimus, worst. Ocyor, swifter, ocyssimus, swiftest. Potior, more desirable, potissimus, most desi- rable. Observe that deterior is less good, but yejor is more had; the former may be used of good things, but the latter only of bad things. Plus is thus declined : — Singular. Neut. only. N. plus A. plus G. pluris D. [pluri] A. pltire Plural. Masc. and Fern. Neut. plures plura plures plura plurium (of all genders) pluribus (of all genders) pluribus (of all genders) The English word “than” after the com- parative is translated by the Latin quam (indeclinable), and takes after it the same case that goes before it. Adverbs derived from adjectives are generally compared in the same way, except that the comparative degree ends in us, and the super- lative degree in e, as follows. Dignus (adj.), worthy, dignior, more worthy, dignissimus, most worthy. Digne, worthily, dignius, more worthily, dig- nissi)ne, most worthily. Audax, (adj.), bold, audaciiir, bolder, audd- cisslmus, boldest. Audacter, boldly, auddcius, more boldly, audd- cissime, most boldly. Gravis (adj.), heavy, gravidr, heavier, gravis- simus, heaviest. Graviter, heavily, grdvius, more heavily, gra- vissime, most heavily. So Sape, often, scepius, oftener, scepisslme, most often. Liu, long, diutius, longer, diutissime, longest. Irregular comparison : — Multum, much, plus, more, plurimtm, most. Magndph% greatly, mdgls, more, maxime, most. Questions for Self-Examination and Exercises. How many degrees of comparison are there ? What kind of adverbs admit of comparison ? Give examples. How is comparison of adjec- tives formed in English, and how in Latin ? Give the rules for forming the comparative and superlative degrees of adjectives ending in us pure, and those ending in us impure. How do you compare adjectives ending in er, licus, dens, voles, and some ending in Us ? Make a list' of the adjectives of irregular comparison. Decline and distinguish deter iorivom pejor. Translate into English : — Hoe aurum regis est clarius quam argentum pueri. Ultima regio terrarum est proxima maximo mari. Pluribus hominibus est minima pecunia. Filia pulcherrima est multo pulchrior quam mater pulchra. Sententise judicum erunt maxime dubiac. Mors felicior erit qu^m vita. Maledicentissimus erat hominum. Vita SEepissime erit non felix, et plurimis nubibus atra. Cgesar erat deterior quam Cicero, orator summus Komanorum. Translate into Latin : — In this greatest of cities is the greatest of all Roman orators. This sea is deeper than the deepest sea. The virtue of the man is inferior to Socrates’ virtue. Now is the year very beautiful to the eyes of all men. Boys have (render ‘ there are to boys ’) the best books on the best subjects (render ‘ things’). The high- est philosophy is the highest love of God. This man is the most benevolent of men in the city. Silver is brighter than the moon, and the sun is brighter than gold. These men are for a very long time not very happy. XIY. The Pronouns. The pronoun is, you know, a word used in^ stead of a noun (and is derived from pro, instead of, nomine, a noun), and is declined generally with number, case, and gender, like the noun. Some pronouns uro substantives und some are adjectives. Substantive pronouns are oifhox personal or reflective. Adjective pronouns are oiVaer possessive, de- monstrative, relative or interrogative, and cor- relative. The personal (from persona, a person) pro- nouns are ego, I, and tu, thou. The reflective (from 7'eflecfo, to bend back) pronoun is sui, of himself, herself, itself, them- selves (both singular and plural, without a nominative). The possessive (from possideo, to possess) pronouns are meus, mine, tuns, thine or your, suus, his, her, or its own, noster, ours, vester, yours, or of you or ye. The demonstrative (from demonstro, to point out) pronouns are hie, this man here, is, that man (near you), ille, that man (yonder), iste, that of yours, idem, the same, ipse, self or very. The relative (from relatus, brought back) pronoun is qui, who. Its compounds are, q^iidam, a certain one, quivis, any one you wish, quicunque, whosoever, quilihet, any one you fancy. The interrogative (from interrogo, to ask) pronoun is quis, who. Its compounds are,. aliquis, somebody, eegww, whether any, quisnam. 384 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. The correlative pronouns are those which de- note a relation to some other person expressed or understood, and are as follow : — pray who ? quisque, every one, quisquam, any one, quispiam, somebody, unusquisquc, each one, siqnis, any. Demonstrative Relative and Interrogative tails, of such a kind tantus, so great tot (indecl.), so many; totidem (indecl.), just so many quails, of such a kind as (rel.) ; of w'hat kind (interr.) quantus, so great as (rel.); how great (interr.) quot (indecl.), so many as (rel.) ; how many (interr.) Indefinite Relative qualiscunque, qualis- qualis, of what kind soever quantuscunque, quan- tusquantus, how great soever qnotcunque, quotquot, how many soever Indefinite qualislibet, of any kind you please aliquantus, of a cer- tain, considerable size quantuslihit, quantus- vis, of any size you fancy or please aliquot (indecl.), some number, quotlibet (indecl.), any number you please XIII. Study of Words showing the Use of “Von” instead of the Genitive. {To he committed to memory.') bie ©ac^ep qemac^t fi’nb. ouss vass dee zach'-en ge-viacht' zint OUT (of) what the things made are. 2)er ©d)u^ ifl bon‘ ?eber, bie ?e;nwanb bon dare shoe ist fon lay'-derr deelinc'-ivant fon The shoe is of leather, the linen of .flax flax, ©et bon ©itber, bie .^er^e bon dare tahV-err fon ziVherr dee 'kayr'ste fon The dollar of silver, the taper of Sac|)^, vax wax, ®et 5}?6rfer bon 2)?efftng, ber .^amm i|I dare moer' -zerr fon mess' -ing dare Itamm ist The mortar of brass, the comb is bon ^orn, fon horrn of horn, 2^er ^effel bon .^upfer, bon©ta^tifl ber dare hess'-el fon hup' f err fon staal ist dare The kettle of copper, of steel is the ©born, sporrn spur, ®er ©cbtufTet* bon Sifen, ber .^nopf ifl bon dare shines' -sel fon i'-zen dart knoppf ist fon The key of iron, the button is of S5ein, hine bone, Suci ifIbonSBotle, bie 9??auer bon©tein' dass tooch ist fon mV-le dee mow'er fon stine The cloth is of wool, the wall of stone, Sie©dutebon 2}Zarmor, bie .KugeI®bon33Iei, dee zoi'-lc fon marr' -morr dee hod -gel fon bly The pillar of marble, the ball (bullet) of lead 35on (5iolb ftnb 2)ufaten, au^ SlJept ifl ber fon gollt zint doo-hah' -ten otiss male ist dare Of gold are ducats, of meal is the Srei, hry porridge |)o4'' iff ber ^aflen/ bon ^orf ifl ber ouss holts ist dare hast'-en fon corrh ist dare Of wood is the box, of cork is the ^fropf, gfropf stopper (prop), (5iia^ ifl bie glafcpe, bon 3:^on ifl ber 2:opf. ouss glass ist dee fash' -e fon tone ist dare topf. Of glass is the bottle, of clay is the pot. OBSEKVATIOXS. ’ The genitive case signifies possession, and thus has the sign “of” when “of” signifies “ belonging to ” : thus, ®tuUen re's the roaring of the tiger da»» hruel'-len dess teeg'-errs (the roar belonging to the tiger), but ®ef(^tc()te ton dee ge-shich'-te fon tern is the story concerning the tiger. Thus or dame teeg'-err is rendered in German by t)on, (which always has the dative case after it) when it means “ concerning,” and also when of designates the material of which a thing is made. Thus: Diitter ton S3erlid5>h^gen dare rit'-terr goeta fon hairr'-lich-iTig-en fagte ton feiner rec()ten -^anb: 3:^r fe'^t fie tft ton zaach'-te fon zy'-ner recht'-en hand eerr zayt zee iast fon ©ifen. The knight Gotz (Godfrey) of Berlichingen said eisen OF (concerning) his right hand: “You see, it is or (constructed of) iron.” Gotz had lost a hand at the siege of Landshut : and an iron one had been made for him, with which he could hold his lance. * @d)luffcl is connected with bag the lock shluea'-sel (also the castle), and means literally the locker or instrument for locking. “ The word .Rugel is also used for a cannon-ball. It is then called .itantncn=.^ugel. kah-no'-nen-koogel. * <§ 01 } is used for wood, as a material, and also in the hollts meaning of a wood, or forest. The English word Holt (Fairholt, Knockholt, etc.) comes from ® 2)cr Jtaften, the box; bie the chest : '">J?iflen dare kast'-en dee kiss'-ie kiss'-ten unb J?aficn leercn fief) fcf)nefl," boxes and chests empty unt kass'-ten lavr'-ren sick shnell themselves quickly, is a German proverb. GERMAN. 385 Study m German Calligraphy. I practice to write a few lines — the foregoing, for instance — from memory, after having learnt them by heart, and then tO compare the result Uerman character has been acquirea, it is good | with the copy, as given below ; — Drei DIE DREI Rauber ermordeten Kaiifmann. ihre Sie und der in Hbhle, die Stadt gehen, Als er fort brachten jiingste und RAUBER. ^ ^ " P yP und plunderten das geraubte Geld in einen von ihnen muszte dann Lebensmittel einkaufen. “ Was sollen war, wir Burschen wir ihn auch uns ZlS//^ Der // ^ theilen ? erstechen. sprachen die zwei zu einander : zzzz^ z/zzzzz mit dem <^, ZZ.ZZA'P^ZZZ wollcn ^zz^zzzz diesen zzc^zzzz- zzzr ^zzz-'zzzi zzzzzzzz Wann ei ^2St>i>zzzz Dann zuruckkommt, ^zzzz^zz junge ^^ztzz^zzzr Rauber zt^wzzr aber . t/ gehbrt z^r^/zz dachte zzzzz sein Antlieil <^Z^ZZZZZ2 zz^^ unter\vegs : it comprehends nearly all. It means the whole moral man — a wholeness of honesty, truthful- ness, fidelity to contracts and understandings, clemency to others in uprightness to one’s own obligations, moderation in profit, courage in loss, friendly and manly parts always revealed at the hardest corners, with uniform hostility to fraud in all its forms, whether of deep ’deceit or superficial pretence. If this be not enough for the merchant, it would seem only necessary, as minor satellites of integrity, to add punctuality, diligence, and such periodical balances and solutions as to know whether to move forward or to stand still, and to leave to integrity in all cases a fully-determined course of action, or honourable liquidation, if that should be the less happy end. The integrity of a merchant in its professional aspect, as to be understood, is that of a i man conscious of having a function of puljlic ! utility to discharge with a profit to himself in | proportion to the intelligence with which he j discharges this function. If he is a buyer, he Avill have to be ruled by the conditions of the market in which he buys. He is not morally responsible for the circumstances of the market, or for conditions which may have depressed it, and rendered it advantageous for him to buy in. His appearance as a buyer will only, ! indeed, have relieved the depression of the market, and tended to improve, however little, all the circumstances and conditions by which it has been depressed, and by which the producers contributing to its supply have been unable to obtain a due return for their produce. Whatever priority of time or superior intelli- gence he has discovered in his purchases is fairly due to his account of profit. But when this has been done, he must have his market to sell in ; and though he is no more responsible for the circumstances which may have rendered it a good market to sell in than in the other case, yet he must take or decline it, as it pre- sents itself when he is ready to sell. The w'hole circle of mercantile profit is thus described in supplying want of produce at one time or place from superfluity at a previous time or place — in short, doing a public good at both ends of the transaction ; and it is obvious that if a merchant does not keep this function of public utility steadily in view, it is very unlikely that he will either be successful or have any moral ideas on the subject. If a bad or ill-judged purchase should lead on to fraudulent efforts of sale, there is no end of the confusion and loss to the operator, and of mischief all round, in proportion as such prac- tice extends. It will ])e observed, from what has been said, how much the integrity of the merchant may depend after all on his intelligence. Most people enter on business with an honourable intention, but the intention is little here in comparison to the intelligence with which it is guided. The first thing is to comprehend fully the public function of merchandise, and the second to understand the means by which this function, in its essentiality, is to be served with success to oneself, and with honour at least, if not with success in the full nineteenth-century sense of the word. The professional life of a merchant must be spent in a cool and steady observance and study of the course of markets, and of the causes, temporary or permanent, affecting supply and demand near or distant within the sphere in which his business is conducted. He must have less or more of the prophet in proportion as his operations are extended over time and space, but his prophec7 must be based on solid information. This is equally needful whether he is acting on his own account or as agent or consignee in the interest of others ; and in either capacity he is- equally wrong if he commits himself so deeply in any series of transactions as to infringe his freedom of judgment or any effect of the like kind in the action of others. Liberty to do or not do is the mainspring of a merchant. If he allows himself to be dragged into new series of transactioTis, to which there is no induce- ment but that of keeping himself afloat like a feather on the stream, he is lost. There are eminent mercantile houses which have so great a hold over some branches of trade, that it is difficult for younger firms to work round them, or to make any inroad into their large commerce. But the great firms die at last of the same disease which is fatal to sO’ many others. They become so identified and dovetailed with certain interests, that they cannot extricate themselves : as these decay, they decay also ; and some fine morning they may be found to have no more life in them, So that the experience of the largest, and in their day most successful, firms only enforces- the lesson so necessary to be learned by those who have to begin with limited capital, with few connexions, and to make, in short, a busi- ness for themselves. Integrity and other good qualities may be of no avail without the self- restraint which saves these from being stifled, which keeps transactions and the credit rela- tions in which they are involved within range, and preserves that freedom and independence of sound judgment which are indispensable in mercantile affairs. The merchant is even more haj^pily situated in this respect than the manufacturer or tlie owner of large industrial works. In the case of the latter there is often so heavy an investment of capital in buildings, machinery, and other fixed forms, as well as a necessity of keeping trained labour in hand, that there is not only a stronger pretext for leaning on borrowed capital, but a certain degree of policy in con- tinuing operations when for the time being they are less than profitable. The business of a merchant is free from entanglements of this kind. He is always able, if such be his maxim, to rein his steed — to walk, trot, or gallop, just as may suit its health and capacity, and his own safety and profit. He need not take the; aid of banks, or of the credit of other firms, beyond the ordinary and legitimate bills of exchange. He need not cover with acceptances ])roduce for which he has no favourable market. Indeed, it may be said, without exaggeration, that with strict integrity there need scarcely be such a thing as mercantile failure ; and that the more general the observance of such in- 39G THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. tegrity became, the more easy would its ob- servance be, and the greater the success of all engaged in mercantile life. When there is great difference of moral principle among merchants, it may be averred j with certainty that those who act with most habitual integrity will have the longest lease and the most prosperous end. XII. Tiglatii-Pileser II. — The Second Assyrian E^ipire. Of the personal history of this great monarch, before lie was acknowledged king of Assyria (74.3 B.C.), we know nothing. That he was a man of great energy is apparent ; that he was a popular leader may be taken as certain. .Men do not rise to supremacy in times of national convulsion unle.ss tliey possess the ability and will to control weaker natures, and subdue the opposition of rivals. He found the empire weakened and dis- E^^edition into organized, and neighbouring Ba- a y onia. the scene of contentions tietwcen petty chiefs, and a source of disquiet and danger to As.syria. An expedition into the disordered country was one of the first tasks of the new king. At the head of a large and well-organized army he marched through the regions east of the Tigris, then crossing tlie river, captured many towns and villages tamong them the important cities Dur-Kuri- galzu and Sippara), and reduced to subjection most of the Chaldean and Arameaii tribes lietween the Tigris and Euphrates. Farther south some of the Chaldeans evaded submis- sion, and claimed to be kings of Babylonia, and as such appear in Ptolemy’s list of munarchs. The northern part of Babylonia was conquered and annexed to Assyria ; and Tiglath-Pileser built a palace, around which a town soon sprung up, named Kar-Assur, the '‘fort of Assur,” on a mound near the Zab river. To the east of Assyria was an extensive district known as the land of Zimri, thickly peopled, and containing many towns. Al- though nominally subject to the Assyrian empire, it had never been entirely subdued, ami the inhabitants were a continual source of trouble to the Assyrian kings. Various mili- tary e.xpeditions had been undertaken, with the usual accompaniments of slaughter and pillage ; but still Zimri was un- conquered, lawless and turbulent. ^ Having dealt so heavy a blow to Babylon, Tiglath-Pileser, whose success had established his power in Assyria, turned his attention to Zimri. Town after town fell before the vigorous assaults of his trained and experienced warriors ; and then, having subdued the country, he crossed it, and attacked and j conquered the Persian tribes beyond the eastern j frontier. Media, rich in mineral wealth, was now open to the indomitable conqueror. Some of the chiefs submitted, and saved their lives by paying tribute ; others fled ; and some of sterner mould, who resolutely opposed the invader, paid for their patriotism with their lives. We can but faintly realize the incidents of the terrible campaign. Modern conquerors are content to cany away the wealth of the countries they invade, and establish political ® supremacy over the subdued peoples : but the warrior kings of the old times, like the slave- hunters of more modern days, made captives n this point. A reference to fig. 18, where the first example of each letter is based on the circle, and the second upon the ellipse, will suffice to show the manifest superiority of ( the latter outline. To ^ ^ further elucidate this matter, we give at fig. 19 a method of forming ne, 18.— circular what has been called the “ chirographic curve,” which will be found to jirevail in all well-formed letters, whether small or capital. Take any two right lines at pleasure, as A B and C D, and form with them any angle, as F E G. Divide the leg F E into any number of equal parts, as F, 3, 2, 1, E ; divide also the leg E G into a similar number of equal parts. Draw straight lines from F to 3, from 3 to 2, from 2 to 1, and from 1 to G, and the inter- sections, F, c, G will be points in the curve, which may be easily traced through them by hand. • If a greater numlDcr of points were required, they could have been readily obtained by dividing the respective limbs of the angle into a greater number of parts and proceeding as before. Useful as all these theoretical (if we may use the term) exercises undoubtedly are, the art of forming elegant and symmetrical capitals is only to be attained by assiduous practice after go®d copies. The size of capitals may lie two and a half times that of the body of the small letters in text-hand, and rather larger — say three times the body of the small letters — in Size of capitals. and small hands. This may,- however, be considered as in great measure a matter of taste. Capitals should be formed with as few lines as practicable, eschewing flowing heads, tails, and loops, or flourishes and superfluous strokes, except, of course, in distinctively ornamental writing. Round Hand (fig. 20) does not call for any remark, being precisely similar to text anil half-text in every respect but size. It is un- necessary to give copies, as the student may easily select such words and sentences as will be suitable to the breadth of his writing-book. The result of all the previous labour should be seen in a facile and correct execution of small hand, the last and most important style of writing. In what may be called “ formal ” small hand, which should be the deliberately- formed and methodical species to which the student proeeeds after sufficient preliminary practice at half-text and round hand — the shapes of the letters and modes of junction do not differ materially fr-om those of these two latter hands. Specimens of small hand are given at fig. 20, and it will be seen that both capitals and small letters have the usual form of those used in the larger hands. A consider- able deal of practiee should be devoted to copies of small hand, which may be advanta- geously selected from historical, geographical or scientific statements of facts. After a fair amount of practice in a careful and deliberate manner at the regular style of small hand, and the attainment of ability to write large text, half-text, round-hand, and small hand, both capitals and small letters, correctly, with due pro- portion of space between the parts of each letter and the letters themselves, and with an uniform slope of 58 AND ELLIPTIC CURVES. degrees Results in , , , current hand, through- out, the penman may consider himself pre- pared to take the important step of endea- vouring to acquire rapidity. This change owes its importance to the fact that it will in all probability form his future handwriting. Such is the invariable result, for instance, when a boy leaves school. All the hands ” specified are, we may say, — “ school hands” that is, they are rather preparatory steps to writing than writing itself. Except for the headings of day-book or ledger, or similar purposes, large hands are of little practical utility, and the small hand fashioned on their pattern and written almost as slowly would also be useless for the needs of the work-a-day world. If any of our readers should however be inclined to exclaim, “ Why then should I go through this probation ? ” or “ Why should I not learn writing ” (save the mark 1) “in six short lessons ? ” we reply, — Because not a stroke you have made, not a line you have written, has been wasted. You have now a clear idea of the essential parts of all our written characters, and, which is of no less import- ance, you have — if our instructions have been followed out faithfully — acquired a freedom and command of hand which wull make the step from the stiff style of the copyliook to the fr’ee flowing one required in a merchant’s counting-house marvffilously easy. You liave but to gradually increase the speed, — not re- THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. •iUO laxin^ your carefulness. You have to adopt any modification of letters or junctions which com- mend themselves to your judgment as tending to rapidity without impairing legibility, and the result will be not only the accjuirement of a good business hand, but the Good effects capacity for writing unweariedly of initiatory hours, or even day after raining. week after week. It is precisely here where the benefit of the assidu- ous training of the hand is seen, and this result is worth any amount of pains. And, contrari- wise, it is precisely here that systems which profess to teach pen- manship in a few hours fail. The power of moving the end joints of the fingers freely and easily can only be gained by practice., and only by such motion can writing l)e done legibly, swiftly, and ])leasantly. The stljf- Jinqer method only re- sults in a scratchy ugly style of writing, unsuited alike to business or official need. While increasing the speed, tlie pupil should always strenuously resist a natural tendency to give an angular style to his writing, instead of a round, bold outline. It is probable that he will feel that a kind of semi-angular hand can be written more rapidly than well-rounded characters. But there are two individuals to be considered in relation to writing — the reader, as well as the penman. Now, all angular hands written fast are fearfully illegible; while pen- manship cha- racterised by a good boldly- curved out- line is always easy to read, however quickly it may have been executed. The student must not how- ever forget, while confin- ing the forma- tion of the small -hand letters strictly to the upper joints of the fingers of the right hand, ° that that hand must also acquire facility in traversing the paper from left to right in an accurate line, and with an unvarying speed. It is only by the combination of this “ travelling ” movement of the hand, and the “ formative ” motions of the fingers, that cor- rectness and rapidity can be combined. On this point, Foster, an American writer, has well observed : — “ It will be found that every elegant and ready penman, often Avithout being conscious of the fact, uses the hand and arm as much, and as readily, as the fingers, and the more so in proportion to the rapidity of his execu- tion. The reason is obvious : as the words proceed from left to right, it is evident that any one who depends upon the use of the fingers alone Avill be unable to write a word extending an inch or more upon the line, Avithout having his hand throAA'n over from left to right, in order to alloAv for the action of the pen upon the paper. The third and fourth fingers re- maining fixed Avhile ^ the other tAvo are carry- ing the pen to the end of a Avord, the hand is cramped and strained. On finishing a Avord the hand is jerked along, and the under fingers made to take up a neAV position. This they retain until the hand is turned nearly over, and the fingers that hold the pen are again stretched as far in advance of the others as they can bear, Avhen a neAV jerk is given, and so on till the Avriting is finished. “ Let any bad Avriter observe his OAvn mode of execution, and, in nine cases out of ten, he Avill find that he bears the weight of his arm upon the Avrist, and uses the tAvo last fingers • as a fixed prop. Thus his Avriting is uneven and crooked, and hoAv can it be otherAvise? The radius of the circle of motion is very short, reaching only from the end of the middle finger, which is fixed to the ix)int of the pen. The centre of motion is changed every time he lifts his wrist, and his Avriting continually tends to take the form of segments of small circles; to prevent which he is compelled to make con- stant efforts to keep a straight line, and thus Avearies and pains his fingers. The root of the principal faults in the common method of teaching penmanship seems, therefore, to be this : that the pupil is directed, or permitted, to rest the wrist, and generally also the third and fourth fingers, and to execute the Avriting Avith the fingers alone. “ The only means of avoiding the difficulties aboA'e mentioned is to acquire a mastery of the movements of the hand and arm by Avhich free N. — H FIO. 19.— CHIBOGEAPHIC CURVE. FIG. 20.— BOUND HAND SMALL ALPHABET. PENMANSHIP. 401 writing is executed. To accomplish this object the learner should practise exercises composed of single letters and words widely separated by means of inclined lines running from letter to letter, or from word to word. Each line should extend across the page, and be written offhand, without lifting the pen. “The object next in importance to a free movement of the hand and arm is a dexterity in the use of the fingers, the latter being as essential in the formation ~ of the looped letters as the former is in p ro moti ng nniformiry :and despatch. To accom- plish this the learner should oractise the short letters in combination with the long S; and also such words as shy, phthisic, philosophy, philosophically, etc., to *be written in a free off- hand manner, without lifting the pen.” Figures do not call for many remarks. The •examples given in the present paper (fig. 21) are sufficient to guide the Figures. student in this matter. Some dif- ference of opinion, or rather of practice, pre- vails, how- ever, respect- ing the figure ■“4,” many writers pre- ferring to bring the horizontal hair - stroke level with the bottom of body figures, and then to strike the heavy down- stroke through it and below the general level bodies; while others choose to keep the whole of the figure upon the line to strike the liorizontal stroke at a higher level. The “ 6 ” may project above the body let- ters half as far as the “7” and “9” descend below them. The following details of the formation of the figures are taken from a paper by Mr. ,T. Cox, and appear to us so just that we adopt them in preference to giving any of our own : — “ All the figures should be of the same size, except the 7 and 9, which should be half as long again as the rest. The upstroke of the 1 VOL. I. FIG. 21. — SPECIMEN OF FXGUKES IN WKliiNG should join it at the top ; the 2 should be made exactly like capital Q ; 3, open at the top, and a well-formed curve at the bottom ; 4, small loop at the tail, and then the line carried hori- zontally, the down-stroke cutting the horizontal line in the middle, and going as far below as above it ; 5, crossed at the top with a straight line, and a good round curve at the bottom ; 6, the body halfWio. length of the whole figure, and the back slightly curved ; 7, short down- stroke, then ”7 ^he curve taken from the middle of the down- stroke, and ^ the tail of the figure carried below of the 2 ; 8, with 9, make a good 0 on the line, and the same size as the 2, and then the tail as long as that of the 7,” avoiding “ the almost universal error of com- mencing to make the tail above the cipher. Tail of 9 should touch the cipher, but should not cut it.” (See fig. 21.) Some may perhaps take exception to the shape recommended here for the figure of 2, and prefer a r.zy.fZ the line half the length a good curve at the top; precise FIG. 22 more form. Vulgar frac- tions are writ- ten in two dif- ferent styles, as shown in our illustra- tion (fig. 22). In the first instances the numerator and denomi- nator are di- vided by a diagonal stroke ; in the a horizontal one. The for- mer plan is that usually adopted, al- the latter is the more legible of the two. In writing deci- mal fractions, care should be taken that the virgule or point is correctly placed, as a mis- take in this matter would probably entail a very serious error. The point should always be sufficiently high — say about two-thirds the height of the figures it divides. On the importance of writing figures with care it is hardly necessary to say anything. The most serious errors in mercantile life have too often arisen from carelessness in this respect. 2G K7rt2i~iriir2n: Sil.VLL HAND ALPHABETS. 402 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. XV. The Pronouns (^coiitimied). 1. The personal pronouns are thus declined: Pronoun of the Firat Person. Sinf/ular. ego (wanting) N. V. I Ac. me G. mei of me D. mihi to me Ab. me from me Plural. N. nos we V. (wanting) Ac. nos us G. nostrum or nostri of us D. nobis to us Ab. nobis from us Pronoun of the Second Person. N. Singular. tu thou or you V. tu 0 thou or you Ac. te thee or you G. tui of thee or you D. tibi to thee or you Ab. te with thee or you Plural. N. VOS ye or you V. VOS 0 ye or 5mu Ac. VOS ye or you G. vestrum or vestri of ye or you D. vobii to ye or you Ab. vobis with ye or you For the pronoun of the third person, he, she, it, is, ea, id, and ille, ilia, illud,aTe usually employed. 2. The reflective pronoun always refers to the nominative case of the sentence, and cannot, therefore, have a nominative case. It is thus declined : — Singular and Plural. (wanting) se or sese himself, herself, itself, or themselves of himself, herself, itself, or themselves to himself, herself, itself, or themselves by himself, herself, itself, or themselves Observe that there are no distinct reflective pronouns in the first and second persons, be- cause the different cases of ego and tn are used reflectively — as, mei, of myself, milil, to my- self, tui, of thyself, txbi, to thyself, volts, to yourselves. 3. Possessive pronouns are formed from the first and second personal pronouns, and the third reflective pronoun, and are declined as adjectives. N. Ac. G. sui D. sibi Ab. se or sese M. F. N. meus mea meum my or mine j I like tuus tua tuum thy or thine i I bonr suus sua suum his, her, its, 1 their noster nostra nostrum our, ours ) like vester vestra vestrum your, yours j I ater Observe, however, that meus makes its voca- tive singular masculine in m i, as mi fill, O my son, except when joined to Ecus, and then it retains, as does Deus, the nominative for the vocative — as meus Ecus, not mi Eeus. 4. The demonstrative pronouns are thus de- clined : — Hie, this (near me). Singular. N. hie hsec hoc V. (wanting) Ac. hunc hanc hoc G. hujus hujus hujus D. huic huic huic Ab. hac hac hoc N. hi Plural. hae haec V. (wanting) Ac. hos has haec G. horum harum horum I), his his his Ab. his his his Is, that, or he, she, or il. N. is Singular. ea id V. (wanting) Ac. eum earn id G. ejus ejus ejus D. ei ei ei Ab. eo ea eo N. ii Plural. eae ea V. (wanting) Ac. eos eas ea G. eorum earum eorum D. eis or iis Ab. eis or iis Ille, that (yonder) N. ille Singular, ilia illud V. (wanting) Ac. ilium illam illud G. illius illius illius D. illi illi iUi Ab. illo ilia illo N. illi Plural. illae ilia V. (wanting) Ac. illos illas ilia G. illorum illarum illorum D. illis illis illis Ab. illis illis illis Iste, that (near you) N. iste Singular, ista istud V. (wanting) Ac. istum istam istud G. istius istius istius D. isti isti isti Ab. isto ista isto ASTRONOMY. 403 N. isti Plural. istoe ista V. (wanting) Ac. istos istas ista G. istorum istarum istorum D. istis istis istis Ab. istis istis istis Idem, the same. N. idem Singular. eadam idem V. (Avanting) Ac. eundem eandem idem G. ejusdem ejusdem ejusdem D. eidem eidem eidem Ab. eodem eadem eodem N. iidem Plural. eaedem eadem V. (wanting) Ac. eosdem easdem eadem G. eorundem earundem eorundem D. eisdem or iisdem or isdem Ab. eisdem or iisdem or isdem N. ipse Singular. ipsa ipsum V. (wanting) Ac. ipsum ipsam ipsum G. ipsius ipsius ipsius D. ipsi ipsi ipsi Ab. ipso ipsa ipso N. ipsi Plural. ipsae ipsa V. (wanting) Ac. ipsos ipsas ipsa G. ipsorum ipsarum ipsorum D. ipsis ipsis ipsis Ab. ipsis ipsis ipsis 5. The relative pronoun is thus declined ; — Singular. N. V. qui (wanting.) quae quod Ac. quern quam quod G. cujus cujus cujus D. cui cui cui Ab. quo qua Plural. quo N. Y. qui (wanting.) quae quae Ac. quos quas quae G. quorum quarum quorum D. quibus or queis or quis Ab. quibus or queis or quis In like manner also are declined its com- pounds, as, e.g . : — Singular. X. quidam quaedam quoddam V. (wanting.) Ac. quondam quandam quoddam G. cujusdam cujusdam cujusdam D. cuidam cuidam cuidam Ab. quodam quadam quodam Plural. N. quidam quaedam quaedam V. (wanting.) Ac. quosdam qUasdam quaedam G. quorundum quarundam quorundum D. quibusdam quibusdam quibusdam Ab. quibusdam quibusdam quibusdam I Observe that in the accusative singular and in the genitive plural, when m comes before d, the m is changed into n for the sake of euphony. 6. The interrogative pronoun is thus de- clined : — N. quis or qui Singular. quae quid or quod V. (wanting) Ac. quern quam quid or quod G. cujus cujus cujus D. cui cui cui Ab. quo qua , quo N. qui Plural. quae quae V. (wanting) Ac. quos quas quae G. quorum quarum quorum D. quibus or queis or quis Ab. quibus or queis or quis In like manner are also declined the com- pounds of qnl, except that aliqvis, ecqi/is, and xiquls make the nominative singular feminine, and nominative and accusative plural neuter, end in qva, as — Singvlar. N. V. Ac. O. D. aliquis (wanting.) aliquem alicujus alicui aliqua aliquid or aliquod Ab. aliquo aliquam alicujus alicui aliqua aliquid or aliquod alicujus alicui aliquo Plural. N. aliqui aliquae aliqua V. (wanting.) Ac. aliquos aliquas aliqua O. aliquorum aliquarum aliquorum D. aliquibus aliquibus aliquibus Ab. aliquibus aliquibus aliquibus Observe (1) that the relative pronoun agrees with its antecedent noun in gender, number, and person, but not in case : Felix est vir queni Reus amat, happy is the man whom God loves. (2) The forms quis and quid can be used by themselves without a noun, as quu es? who art thou? quid est? what is it? The forms qul and quod are used interrogatively with a noun, as qui homo es ? what man art thou ? quid mare hoc est? what sea is this? XIII. Cassini’s Discoveries {continued^.— Nebula.— Variable Stars. Whilst observing Saturn in 1675 Cassini dis- covered that the ring of that planet is divided into two by a black line, so that it appears to be composed of two concentric rings, and not one. This discovery excited much interest, and was soon confirmed. He had, however, been antici- 404 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. patcd in his discovery by William Ball, a Devonshire gentleman, -who, ob- DupUcityof sewing Saturn on Oct. 13, 1605, Saturn S ring. 38-feet telescope, per- ceived that its ring was nearly double. But, as in many similar instances, the discovery having been made by a comparatively un- known astronomer, it did not excite any attention, and was soon forgotten. This divi- sion in the ring of Saturn is called Ball s division, Jifter its original discoverer. In 1684, when the ring of Saturn was again turned edgeways towards the earth, Cassini scrutinised the planet with great care to see if there were yet other satellites. He made use of telescopes of great power, and having lengths of lUU and 136 feet respec- tively, with apertures •of about six inches, and magnifying over 2U0 times. His per- severance was re- warded by the dis- covery of two more satellites, both of them much adSnluaW- ‘“'3' lites to Saturn. the three j)reviously known. One of these is now known as Elfluc. and revolves round the planet in ~2 d. 18 h. ; and the other is called Tethya, and requires only 1 d. 21| h. to revolve round the ))Ianet. In commemoration of these brilliant discoveries Louis XIV. had a medal struck bearing the inscription, “Saturni satellites primum cogniti.” The invention of the micrometer enabled astronomers to deduce the apparent diameter of the celestial bodies. The sun was found to have a diameter of rather more than half a degree, and to vary slightly with the varia- tions in the dis- tance of the earth from the sun, but its average dia- meter was fixed at 32' 10". The diameter of the moon was found to vary between 2\)\' and .33^' ac- . — SKTVRS AND HIS KINGS. Jujiitur. Saliirn.Vranui. n o W . Neptune FIG. 47. — COMPARATIVE SIZE OF THE SUN AS SEEN FROM THE PLANETS. of this last was 45" in di.ameter. From these measures and Cassini's value for the distance of the sun — namely 86 millions of miles— it followed that the diameter of the sun was 800,000 miles, or sun, more than one hundred times that of the earth, and its volume P-anets. more than a million times as great. The moon was found to have a diameter of 2,180 miles, or to be in volume only one-eightieth of that of the earth. IMercury was found to be but little bigger than the moon, and Venus to be almost exactly the same size as the earth. Mars was smaller, having a diameter of about 4,700 miles, or about three-fifths of the diameter of the earth, !-o that it would have a volume of about one-fifth. Jupiter had a diameter of 87,000 miles, or twelve times as great .as the earth, so that this giant planet was in volume nearly two thousand times greater than our planet. Saturn was slightly smaller, the diameter of the planet being only 70,000 miles, Ulut its ring w.as nearly 200,000 miles across. We shall see subsequently that these values were not very far out, and they enable a good idea to be formed of tlie relative dimensions of the different bodies of the solar system. When the heavens were studied with more perfect telescopes than those employed by Galileo, it began to be discovered that the heavens contained other objects than the star.s. Thus in 1656 Huygens discovered an astonish- ing feature in a star in the constellation called Orion — a star which had been designated d by Bayer. It ap- peared to be fixed in the midst of a faint filmy cloud of light, much as if it were sur- rounded by im- mense masses of faint luminous gas, whilst the surrounding sky was intensely black. Huvgens cording to its distance from the earth, its mean diameter being 31' 20." From its transit across the sun, Hevelius found th.at the mean ^ben. ift froind dass fer-ynue' -yen ha' -hen ess isst noeb ftiib fieniifi; 3)?otgen mitb e^ ju nock fruc ye-nooeh niurr'-yen veerrd ess tso» fpat fein. mate unteebt gemefen, spayt zinc ess vair'-re 'nn'-recht ye-vai'-zen ben SWann obue ba^ @elb fott ju febiefen. dane mann oh'-ne dass yelt fort tsoo shih' -hen Die Jl^itet metben milltommen fein. dee tahl'-err vairr' -denriU-hom! -menzine. ess ift beffet, menifi 311 baben, aio 311 oiel. i.s-st hesserr vain'-ich tsoo ha' -hen als two feel 9)?ein ^teunb, fein 0 ie mit millfommen. mine froind zinc zee nicer vill-hom'-men ^afit unO immet fieifig fein. 33 ift bu hisst uns iin'-nier jiyss'-ieli zinc hisst doo biefen SWotgen in bet 0 cbufe gemefen? dee'-zen mord-yen in dare shoo'-le ye-vai'-zen 5?ein, iet) bin niebt ba gemefen. Saturn nine ich bin nicht da ye-vait -zen vah'-runi niebt? Seii icb in bet .ititebe gemefen nicht vile ieh in dare heerr'-che ye-vay'-zen bin. ^finbet, mo feib ibt geftetn gemefen? bin liinn'-der VO zeid eerr yest'-ern ye-vai'-zen ^^abt ibt niebt S3ucbet? b^ben happt eerr nicht hue'-cher yah veerr ha' -hen ©iiebet, abet mit maten niebt in bet hne'-cher ahf-berr veerr vah'-ren nicht in dare 0^uie. shoo'-le So mat 3bi^ Dnfef? (St mat in VO vahr eerr on'-hel airr vahr hi Siuftralien. Sae^ mat er ba? Qx mar vw-strah' -lien vass vahr airr da airr vahr ilaufmann. 3 fbt ift et in (Sngianb unb hon'f -mann yetst isst airr in cnn'-ylant unt et ift i'anbmittb. SlZan fann niebt airr isst Land' -veer rt mann hann nicht aUe^ fein, unb aueb niebt atie^ b^iben. all'-ess zinc unt o/ceh nicht all'-ess ha'-hen f^tiebtieb mat geftetn febt ungiiieffieb. freed' -rich vahr yess-terrn zairr un-yluch' -lich (St mat febt ungebotfam gemefen, unb airr vahr zairr un-ye-horr' -zam ye-vai' -zen unt batte getban ma^ febt unteefjt mat. (5t hat'-te ye-tahn' rass zairr un!-recht vahr airr ift niebt fteifig. (5t miitbe gtiiefficbet isst nicht jl yss -ich airr vuer'-de yiueh'lich-err fein menn et niet)t fo eigenfinnig miite. zinc Venn airr nicht zo % -yen-zin-nich vay'-re Det (Sigenftnn ift ein gto^er ^ebiet. dare i'-yen-sinn isst ine yross'-er fail'-lerr 53iele ^naben finb eigenfinnig. 0ei Du fee'-le hnah'-hen zind i' -yen-zin-nich zy doo niebt eigenfinnig, mein ilinb. Unfet nicht a -yen-zin-nich mine hinnd un'-zer 9?aebbat b^it biefet (yub^ biele ^itfeben, nach'-bar hat dcc'-zes yahr fee'-le heerr'-shen ^flaumen, 5 ipfet, unb Sirnen gebabt. ]lftom'-men ep'-fel unt hcerr' -nen ye-hapt' 0 ein Dbftgatten ift febt febbn. DaiJ Dbft zinc ohpst' -yarr-ten is.d zairr shorn dass ohpst miitbe beffet gemefen fein, menn bab vuerr'-dehes'-serr ye-vai'-zen zine venn dass- GERMAN. 415 Setter iuc|t fo fait gewefen tyare. vet'-terr niclit zo Imllt fjc-vai'-zen vair'-re Der grii^Ung trar biefet^ dare frueh'-ling vahr dee' -zes ynhr zairr fpat. 3n bent ^ajten ftnb X)ufaten. ,^2}(it6 in dame kasd-ten zint doo-kah'-ten Der ^aften ift fe^r ftarf. (Sr ift bon dare kass'-ten u.st zairr .stark, airr i.s.st fan (Sifen, unb nict)t bon Senn bie ^tafe^e i'-zen uiit mcht fon kollta. venn dee jiah' -she nid)t bon @la^ gemefen ibdre ^dtte _tc^ niekt fan glass ge-vai'-zen vair'-re het'-te ich fie no^* zee nock vocabulary. Positive 2 llt, old. allt Sin^lar. .^inb, the child. dass kinht Comp. Superl. alter dlteft eV-terr eV-test Plural. ©ie ^inber dee kinn'-derr flci^ig, industrious. dg.ss'-ich gut, good (pronounce float the 00 as in the English ‘ 4 oot ”). reic^, rich. rgeh tbenig, little. vay'-nich biel, much. feel bie 0c^ule, the school. dee .shoal' -e ^bie^irc^e, the church. jetjt, now; another word dee keerr'-che yetst [for ietjt is nun. ® ber ^anbibirt^, the noon dare landl-veert traurig, sad, mournful, farmer (agriculturist). trojv'-rich ailed, all, everything. beffer, better. hess'-err ganj, whole, entire. g a nuts ber ^ag, the day. dare taach fpdt, late. spate fritf), early. frueh genug,’ enough. ge-voach' unred^t, vTong. vnn'-recht obne, without. ah -ne [away. Mortfe^iefen, to send forrt'-shik-ken ^Sillfommen, welcome. vil-kom' -men all'-es.s ungliidlid;, unhappy. vn-gluekl-Vwh [ent. iingel;orfam,disobedi- nn'-ge-hord-zam ®gctl;an, done. ge-tahn! [nate. ’’ eigenfinnig, obsti- i' -gen-zin-nich ber 9tad)bar, the neigh- dare nach'-hakr [hour, bie .Kirfdie, the cherry. dee keerr'-she bie^ flaume, the plum. dee 2>fiow'-‘me [chard. ber Dbjlgarten, the or- dare ah psif -garr-ten fepon, beautiful. shoen OBSERVATIONS. ‘ Remember that .7 is always hard in German, except in a few words taken from the French, such as (Celtic, genius. june-ee' ' fcrt|g)tcfen, literally to send forth. The (to) is in.serted when the infinitive does not stand for the nominative. Thus we say Serncu tft fdjiner, to learn lairr'-ncn igst nhvairr is difficult. Here Semen stands for the nominative; bu (5? ift firmer lernen, it is hard to learn, with the csit inst shvairr tgoo lairr'ncn hi, because (emeu is not the nominative. •' llBiafomnien is made up of well, and fonimen, vil-kom'-mm vole kom'-men to come. ■* From iic Jlivgic we have the Lowland Scotch word “kirk.” ® !l)er 2Cirtb, in German, is the host or manager. dare veertt Thus ber Olaftiwirtb, literally guest manager, is the dare gasd' -weerrt innkeeper. ®ie Hisirtlifd^aft is the household economy, dee veerrt'-»hafft and Santlnivtbfcbnft is farming, or the eeonomy of the laud. The farmer who literally has land for which he pays rent to a landlord is called ter l^lacfitea:. *■ getftan, done, is the past participle from the verb ge'-talui to do; icb I do; ^ tbnt, I did; tfiucitt, toon ich too-'e ich taht too'-ent doing, etc. ’ eigenfinnig, from eigen, own, and ter Sinn, the mind i' -gen-zin-nich i'-gen dare zinn or sense : obstinacy consists in an exaggerated holding to one’s own sense or view. English Version for Correcting the ABOVE Study and for Ke-translation INTO German. The father is old. The children are indus- trious. Thou hast not been industrious. The man was to-day here. Has the sister not been good ? Why were you not industrious ? Is the man rich ? No, he is poor. Where is thy father now ? He is in Paris. Has your daughter been in my house ? Why are you so sad? When were you last in London? It would be better if the boy had not the books. ^\Tlere was this boy the whole day ? If it is not too late, my friend will have the pleasure. It is still early enough ; to-morrow it will be too late. It would have been wrong to send the man away without the money. The dollars will be welcome. It is better to have little, than too much. My friend, be welcome to me. I.et us always be industrious. Hast thou been to (in the) school tins morning ? No, I have not been there. Why not ? Because I have been at (in the) church. Children, where have you been yesterday ? Have you not books ? Yes. wo have books, but we wore not at (in the) school. Where Avas your uncle ? He was in Aus- tralia. What was he there? He was (a) merchant. Now he is in England, and he is a farmer (an agriculturist). One cannot be everything, and also (one can) not have every- thing. Frederick M^as yesterday very unhappj". He had been very disobedient, and had done what was very wrong. Pie is not industrious. He would be happier if he were not so obsti- nate. Obstinacy is a great fault. Many boys arc obstinate. Be not thou obstinate, my child. Our neighbour has this year had many cherries, plums, apples, and pears. His orchard is very beautiful. The fruit would have been better, if the weather had not been so cold. The spring was this year very late. In the box are ducats. The box is very strong ; it (he) is of iron and not of wood. If the bottle had not been of glass, I should have it still. (A good way to use this exercise, after thoroughly studying the German portion, con- sists in endeavouring to tmnslate it back aloud, at sight, into German, with a friend to check the sentences by the German text.) 41G THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. XIII. The Tudor Period in England. Henry VII. and Henry VIII. (^continued:). Towards the end of his reign, the king’s ruling passion, avarice, took entire ])ossession of him. It has been said of the Benevolences, rapacious Marlborough that he would with equal calmness take fifty ' thousand pounds from a potentate, or a sixpence ^ from the knapsack of a starving soldier ; and Henry’s greed for money appears to have been of the same universal nature. He practised extortion by the revi- val of benevolences, sums raised nominally by free gifts, but really almost compulsory contributions; he exacted enormous fines for breach of the livery laws and similar regulations, on one occasion condemning the Earl of Essex to pay ten thousand pounds for summoning his retainers to do honour to Henry him- self, on the occasion of a royal visit ; and towards the end of his reign his conduct illus- trated the old gram- mar axiom, Cre.wit .amor nuinmi, for his wealth and his covetousness grew together. In the French war that con- cluded with the treaty of Etaples, he had. as Bacon observes, made a profit upon his sub- jects for the war, and upon his enemies for the peace” ; and in later years the two ministers of his avarice, the law 3 mrs Empson and Dudley, reduced extortion to a science. Extortions of fm^png means of oppression in the old and half-obsolete feudal laws. Enormous sums were de- manded for charters of pardon in cases of out- lawry ; old statutes, long fallen into disuse, were revived and iTsed as weapons for extorting money. Fines of thousands of pounds were inflicted on the most frivolous pretences, and imprisonment was added where immediate payment Avas not made. Even the smallest profits were not beneath the notice of the rapa- cious king. Bacon tells us that he himself saw an account book of Empson’s, with various notes and remarks in the king’s handwriting. ArTiCng the entries is one in the following ■words: “ /ifcw- -Bcceived of such a one five marks for a pardon, which, if it do not pass, the money to be repayed, or the party other- wise satisfied.” The king had appended to this entry the remark “ otherwise satisfied,” so that it would appear that the pardon was not granted, nor the money that had once found its way into the king’s clutches ‘‘ repayed.” To Henry’s avarice also was due a measure wliich was in later times fraught with most important consequences to Eng- land, For nearly seven years Catharine of negociations were carried on be- tween Ferdinand of Spain ^nd Henry, for the marriage of Catharine, the Infanta, with Arthur, the king of England’s eldest son. Bacon strongly hints that one reason of the delay was the fact that Warwick, the son of Clarence, still lived, though in con- finement; and that the unhappy captive was at last sacrificed to the importunity of Ferdinand, Avho declared that “he saw no assurance of the succession as long as the Earl of War- Avick lived; and that he AAaas loth to send his daughter to troubles and dangers.” Accord- ingly the poor imbe- cile son of “ false, fleeting, ])erjured Clarence” Avasputout of the Avay by the axe, and the marriage took ] )laee. But the young j)rince died Avithin a few months. The king had received two hun- dred thousand ducats as the doAvry of the Infanta, and it \A'as not in his nature to pay back such a sum. He obtained a dispen- sation from the pope allowing Catharine to marry the brother of her former husband, and he caused his second son, Henry, then only tAA'elve years of age, to be contracted to Prince Arthur’s AAudoAv. The marriage Avas carried into effect on the Pi'ince's accession to the throne in 1.509. Long aftei’Avards, in her bitter abandonment, the unfortunate Catherine declared, “ The diA'orce is a judgment of God, for that my former mar- riage AA’as made in blood.” Remorseful at times for his extortions, and feebly endeavouring to atone for his injustice and rapacity, by the foundation of religious houses, and by de Acting j)art of the spoil to chari- table ])urposes, the king, aaTio had for some years been in ill health, at last succumbed to consumption, in the fifty-second year of his age, and the tAventy-fourth of a harsh and stern, but not unprosperous or ignoble reign. Henry VIII. came to the throne Avith almost everything in his fnAmiir. He succeeded to a kingdom in Avhich peace and prosperity HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 417 had come after a long period of conflict and misrule. He inherited in eoined )’ such a treasure as no king of England had ever pos- sessed, Uniting in his })erson, by descent from York and Lancaster, the elaims of the rival houses, he was free from the fear of faction and conspiracy — that “ black care ” that had ridden behi]id so many English kings. Nations, like and to the last we should detect some remains of that open and noble temper which endeared him to a peojfle whom he oppressed, struggling with the hardness of despotism and the irrita- bility of disease.” Never was there, apparently, a greater contrast than between the jovial free- hearted monarch who masqueraded at the Field of the Cloth of Gold,” and the capricious tyrant, with the temper of a tiger, whose ipswicn. families, give a large credit in the future to the 3'oung ; and England hailed with delight the accession of the handsome, stalwart stnpling, full of the vigour and joyousness of life, liberal to profusion, fond of the pomp and circumstance of sovereignty, the "bluff King Hal,” whose out-spoken frankness contrasted as favourably with the dry caution of his father as did his open-handed generosity with Heniy VII.’s miserly greed. Macaulay, in his admirable failing hand, relentless in death, im})rcssed the fatal signature on the death-warrants of Surn-y and Norfolk; although the second character was developed from the first as the natural effect of a long course of unquestioned power, and of a reign on a throne surrounded b}^ flatterers. And yet it was the fate of this king, himself the most imperious and despotic of men, to initiate in England the movement that was to liberate the nation from the greatest system HEBEFOHT). essay on History, speaks of the historian who could give a life-like picture of Henry 3 king's remarkable reign, character. .. painted,” ^hc says, •• with the skill of Tacitus. We should have the change of the character, from his pro- fuse and joyous youth to his sav'age and im- ))erious old age. We shordd j)crceive the gradual })rogress of selfish and tyrannical passions in a mind not naturally insensible or ungenerous; V'OL. I. of spiiitual ))Owcr the world has seen ; for with Henry VIII. the Ivcformation began in England, from, the day when the ini})eiions king, for his own selfish pur})Oses, denied the su])remacy of Koine. Soon after Henry's accession, the league which had bound together the confcdci-atcs of Cambray against the Venetian republic vas dissolved, and gave iilacc to the Holy League. organize(l by Lope Julius II, with the frivolous 27 41S THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Maximilian of Germany and the astute and cunning Ferdinand the Catholic Hemy joins of Spain. Louis XII. of France „had deeply offended the Koman Oct W assertion of power in Italy, which country the pope wished to free from all foreign domination ; and he widened the breach with the papacy by calling a council at Pisa with the avowed intention of effecting reforms in the Church, to the detriment of the pope's power. Julius was naturally anxious to secure the aid of the wealthy and powerful king of England; and Henry, young, ardent, and thirsting for militaiy glory, was easily proi)itiated by the flattering advances of Julius. By holding out to him the prospect of the title of “ Most Christian King,” till then given to the kings of France, Julius induced Henry to join the League, and to declare war against France. The English, who looked upon the French as their natural enemies, were glad at the prospect of a fight, and Parliament voted liberal supplies. Ferdinand . of Aragon, a veteran in statecraft, Fr^e Henry’s martial ardour to his own advantage. He craftily induced the English king to send ten thousand men to the south of France, ostensibly to con- quer Guienne, but in reality to occupy the attention of the French army while his general, the Duke of Alva, was conquering Navarre for Spain. Henry did not learn, till too late, how he had been duped by his treacherous ally. The army, discouraged by ill success and thinned by sickness, mutinied, and demanded to be taken back to England; and the doubtful naval victory gained off Brest by Sir Thomas Knevet at the price of the destruction of the Regent, the King’s largest ship, was but a small consolation for the utter failure of the eam- })aigii on land. The campaign of 1513 was more fortunate. Henry carried an army of twenty-five thousand Battle of France, won the battle Guinegate or of Guinegate, kno\\Ti as the “TheSp\ixs,” “Battle of the Spurs,” and took Aug. 16, 1513. Terouenne and Tournay; while in Scotland the old quarrel between the two countries was rekindled by the capture at sea of the vessel of the famous Scottish rover, Sir Andrew Barton, and the slaying of that redoubtable chief himself by Lord and Sir Edward Howard. James IV., though he had married Heniy’s sister Margaret, led a large army across the border into Northumberland, after various depredations had been committed by both sides. On September 9th, on the fatal field of f'lodden, the Scots were direfully de- feated, with the loss of their king, their chief nobility, and five thousand men. The com- mander of the English forces, the Earl of Surrey, was for this victory restored to the dukedom of Norfolk, forfeited by his father, Shakespeare’s “ Jockey of Norfolk,” who fell at Bosworth field fighting for Eichard III. It Avas many years before Scotland recovered from the effects of this crushing bloAv. Henry Avas noAv couAunced that he had been duped, both by Ferdinand of Spain and Maxi- milian of Germany, Avho, having used his alliance for their oAvn purposes, noAv abandoned it. In high indignation, he made The two peace AA'ith France, and cemented marriages of the union by the marriage of his Mary, Heary’s sister Mary, a beautiful girl oi sister, sixteen, to King Louis of France, Avho Avas fifty-three. Louis died Avithin a fcAV months of the marriage; and Mary, who plainly in- formed her imperious brother that, having married once to please him, she would, on the next occasion, marry to please herself, gaA'e her hand privately to the handsome and gallant Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, King Henry’s favourite, to Avhom she had been attached before her French marriage. Francis, Count of Angouleme, Avho had succeeded Louis XII. on the French throne, encouraged Suffolk in this proceeding, and undertook to obtain the king of England’s pardon; Avhich he did after a short interval— if, indeed, Henry had not been jjrivy to the Avhole proceeding from the beginning. Thus did a doAvager queen Aved a subject ; or, as it Avas expressed by the fortu- nate husband, “cloth of gold was matched Avith cloth of frieze.” The proverbial danger attending such matches Avas illustrated long afterwards, in the sad events following the miserable conspiracy to place Lady Jane Grey? the grand-daughter of Brandon and Mary, on the throne of England. By this time the counsels of Henry AA'ere alread}' SAvayed, to the exelusion of all com- petitors, by that remarkable man, whose eleva- tion and disgrace Johnson has aptly chosen to illustrate the career of the eourtier in his “ Vanity of Human Wishes. Never was a courtier’s career ^ ° * more brilliant than that of Thomas Cardinal Wolsey; never Avas a favourite’s fall more disastrously complete. During a long period of Henry’s reign the influence of Wolsey AA'as para- mount; and his poAA'cr over the hot-headed imperious king Avas the gi’eater for the consum- mate art with which he appeared to follow Avhen in reality he led — to carry out the measures AA^hich in reality he had suggested. The great cardinal was the son of an opulent ljurgess of IpsAA'ich. His enemies asserted that the elder Wolsey AA’as a butcher by trade ; but this hardly accords Avith his undoubted wealth. Educated for the Church, Wolsey became chaplain to Henry VII., Avhom he served aa^cII and promptly in an important state matter ; afterAvards he AA’as recommended to Henry V III. by Fox, bishop of Winchestei’. He quickly Avon the favour of the young king. From being a companion of Henry’s pleasures, Wolsey Avas gradually promoted to be, first his confi- dant and adviser, and aftei’Avards his sole and irresponsible minister. Wolsey's pride and arrogance grew Avith his fortunes ; he became the greatest subject in England, the most jArofuse, and the most rapacious. From the King he first receiA’ed the bishopric of Lincoln, and then was made Archbishop of York; by arrangement AA’ith the bishops of Bath, Wor- eester, and Hereford, who were Italians residing abroad, he enjoyed the greater part of the revenues of those sees ; — he was alloAA^ed to hold first the see of Durham, and afterAAmrds BOTAXY. 419 that of Winchester, in addition to his own ; and had many sources of revenue besides. According to his pretension was the state he kept in the eyes of the world : eight hundred persons, including many knights and gentle- men, composed his retinue. In his palaces the ceremonies of a tegal court were observed. Indeed, when he built Hampton Court Palace many comparisons were made between the minister’s place of abode and his master’s, to the disadvantage of the latter. “ The King’s house,” wrote a satirist, “ should have the excel- lence. But Hampton Court hath the preemi- nence.” Ever ranking himself with princes, Wolsey wished to accustom the eyes of the people to his magnificence. When the Pope had created him a cardinal, and the King had entrusted to him the great seal, his power seemed to have reached its zenith. He seemed to concentrate in himself the government of England. As Johnson graphically puts it : — To him the church, the realm, their powers consign, Through him the rays of regal bounty shine. Turned by his nod, the stream of honour flows ; His smile alone security bestows ; Still to new heights his restless wishes tower. Claim leads to claim, and power advances power.” XIV. Elements of the Flower {continued'). Very many plants do not develop petals. The calyx is then usually green and incon- Calyxonly. ^P^^uous, and being the only ^ ‘-floral envelope” present, the perianth is said to be “ single.” But most interesting is it to note how strenuously, when petals are absent, nature again remembers to give compensation ! In the entire group of delightful shrubs and small trees which includes the mezereon and the Pimeleas, the calyx is rendered as lovely as any corolla can be ; and the same is the case in many of the apetalous Pianunculaceac;. The clematis, the anemone, the marsh-marigold, are all totally destitute of petals. To compensate the want, the sepals excel in beauty hundreds and thousands of corollas. It would be difficult to find, among the very richest even of roses, a crimson velvet more choice than that of the Anemone Coro- narui ; or among purple petals, anything to match the calyx of the Japanese clematis. These glorified sepals have the additional pre- rogative of being far more substantial and enduring than genuine petals — a fact worthy of remembrance by those who desire to con- struct l)ou(iuets that shall not disappointingly fall to pieces before the day is over. That many flowers are deficient in corolla was very soon observed when botanists began Monochlamydea) ^Peir labours. I’he determina- and tion of the fact in question gave Dichlamyde®. j-ige to the earliest classification of the families constituting the exogenous section of flowering plants. This was into Dichlamydeae, literally ‘-two jackets” ; Mono- chlamydeaB, literally “one jacket ” ; and Achla- mydem, “no jacket.” The Dichlamydege, in other words, comprised the families having flowers with both calyx and corolla ; the Monochlamydeae, those with a cal 3 'x only ; and the Achlamydeie, those in which the stamens and pistils are protected merely by bracts : alltheAmentifera3,to wit. Theoretically, with a view to the marshalling of plants and the grouping them in systematic order, the dis- tinction is most inviting. Nothing would seem more eligible as a first principle, and were plants not so wayward it might be invaluable, but in practice it continually breaks down. Monochlamydeous flowers, and even achlamy- deous ones, taking the word literally, constantly occur in orders which in the mass are con- spicuously dichlamydcous. What more remote, for instance, than the achlanqvdeous ash-tree from the lilac ? Among the Mouochlamyds there is a corresponding disposition, every now and then, to rise to the higher condition. No system can possibly be framed that shall not be constantly troubled with exceptions. In no scheme, however, though so plausible in appearance, do the}' crop up more frequently than in the one which looks first at the non- essential calyx and corolla. The specific purpose of the calyx being to protect the petals while unexpanded, it very generally withers, and often drops off, as soon as the flowering duration of the is pretty well advanced. When it falls early, it is said to bo “ caducous ” ; when it remains, it is “persistent.” A striking in- stance of persistenc,y occurs in the strawberiy. Other examples are met with in various species of the Solanaccffi, and in these it is not only persistent, but “ accrescent,” enlargbig up till the period of the maturation of the fruit. Colour also is acquired in the solanaceous Alkekengi ; the unattractive green cup of Juh^ becoming by September a scarlet bag. Why so? Yes — whj^so? These are the questions by which in the study of nature we aie con- stantly thrown back upon the sense of how little it is possible, after all, for man to find out. In the presence of such phenoua na, baffled hopelessly in the attempt to explain, how sweet the solace of the thought that the.y declare the handiwork of God, who “ hath created all things for His pleasure,” the alke- kengi doubtless holding its place in the grand scheme of nature collectively, for as good and profound a reason as the oak and the palm. Just as the calyx is constituted of sepals, so the corolla is composed of “ petals.” Very often, as in the wall- flower and the buttercup, these The Corolla, parts are “free”; in other flowers they arc more or less united from the base upwards. The minimum of cohesion is seen in the common yellow loosestrife, and the maximum in the convolvulus. The unconnected portions, when the petals arc only ])artly united, arccalled the “ lobes.” and a flower is said to be threc- lobcd, four-lobed, or live-lobed. according to their number. The early botanists looked upon 420 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. corollas of the latter IskkI as ” monopetalous.” or formed of only one petal. It is now well known that there is no such thinut great gains have also been made on mere rumours of events, or Avhcrc the issues of an event were uncertain, as Avhen war has been declared, but wliile it was .still unknown whether it would ever be entered upon, or whether it would last more tlian a month, or be protracted over several years. The speculative opera 'ions to make a fortune, in Mich cases, were ecpmUy sufficient to overwhelm :a tirm in hopeless ruin ; and in the state of affairs the one result may liavc lieen quite as jirobable as the other, or in other words, the l esult was beyond all human ken. The specu- lation in such a case ditfers in nothing from •gambling ; and if tlie chance turns up gain, the tii’in is scarcely to be congratulated. Such larc strokes of lilind fortune, however enrich- ing at the moment, ai'c nnu'C ajit to un.settlc than to establish mercantile houses in the path of success. xr. LETTEKS IX COMBIXATIOX WITH CAPITALS (confini/cd). The lu’opcr use of capital letters is a matter worth attention, as neglect of- it is not only detrimental to the a])]iearance Use of capital piece of {)cnmanship or ® manuscript, but is also an indi- ■cation of lack of education almost as patent as mis-spelling. It is of course oidy the very ignorant who commit such flagrant errors as, say for instance, the employment of a small “ i ” for the caiutal letter where the fir.st ])cr- sonal in'onoun is intended ; V)ut one sees mistakes scarcely less gi'oss where they would Ixi little ex{)ected. The following brief code of rules com])rises the points most necessary to be bonic in mind : — 1. Every sentence should begin with a capital letter. 2. The commencement of every line of poetry (whether the beginning of a sentence or not) should have a caiutal. 8. Ail(piotations,a})horisms, mottoes, proverbs, or in.scriptions should have an initial capital. 4. All names and titles of God should eom- mcnce with a capital. At the in-e.sent day also the .seemly custom of using a cajntal to all ])ronouns, whether ])er.s()iial or ])os.scs.sive, having reference to cither of the three rersons of the Trinity, usually prevails. r». All titles of majesty and honour take initial capitals, as The Queen, Her Majesty, His Iloyal Highness, Lord, etc. It may be noted here that although the title of “ His ” or i. j ” ii Poyai Highness ” is alwaj^s printed in hookx with a capital to the pronoun, yet many 'nrii\s 2 )((j)evs make it a point to ii.so only a small letter here. This is merely in pursuance of what indiitcrs call the “ style ” of those papers, and should not be imitated in writing. (!, The first personal pronoun, 1, is a capital. 7, Exclamations, such as “Ah!” “O!” “Oh!” “ Hark ! ” should begin with a ca})ital. We may mention also that a note of admiration (;) should follow the word or words. 8. All names of places and ]->crsons should commence with a capital, as Gibraltar, New York, James, Lucy, Burns, Scott, All streets follow the same rule. The word “street” itself is often found with a small initial letter, and joined to the preceding word b}^ a hyjJien in ncwspa])crs, thus “ Thaines-street.” This should never be followed in addresses of letters or other writing. “ Thames Street ” is there the j)roper form. t). Abbreviations are written in capitals, as ]\I.P. (Member of rarliament), A.U. (Anno Domini, “the year of our Lord”), P.S. (post scriptum, “written after”), F.B.S. (Fellow of the Poyal Societ}"), j\ISS. (manuscripts). In aU instances, too, it may be ob.scrved, Avhere tlic letters indicate nepomte mird.'t, a jKiriod or full point follows each. This is not the case between the letters in IMSS., because the sign stands for one word, and only requires the period at the end. 10. Mr., IMrs., Miss, Esq., Sir, Madam, IM. (IMonsieur), MM. (Messicuns), etc., commence with a capital letter. 11. Numerals (Roman) for successions of sovereigns (as Charles II, Henry VIII, Louis XVI 11, etc.), arc be.st written in a “print” cha- racter, with the same slope as the Avriting. Note that it is incorrect to })lacc a full i)oint after the numerals, as is frequentlj'’ done. Having given our students am])le Avork for the present, avc Avill defer exanq)les of current luuuls, and jnesent a fcAV notes on some curious and iTiteresting facts connected Avith the pro- fessors of the chirographic art. Fcav branches of teaching have Avitnessed so great changes during the .present century as that of j)enmanship. The “ AATiting-master ” has indeed fallen from his ancient pride of place: and although he may oftcii in the })resent day arrogate to himself the title of “ Professor,” he is, a.s a rule, far inferior in practical skill and dexterity of hand to the PENMAXSIIIP. 421 > olden wieldcrs of tlie quill. So far as relates to school teaching, this is, of The ancient course, due in great measure to the writing-masters. COpy-books with j^rinted headings ; whilst those who devote them- selves to the teaching of adults are obliged, in conformity to modern ideas, to confmc their lessons to so brief a time that nothing more can be expected from their pupils than the angular scrawl which they usually produce. The old Avriting-masters, on the contrary, looked upon their art as something worthy alike of attainment and preservation, and however Ave may be inclined to smile at the grandilo- quence Avhich they employed in their treatises, it must be acknowledged that Ave shall never — chirographically speaking — “ look iipon their like again.” The amount of old-fashioned literature extant, in our OAvn language only, upon this sulq'ect Avould startle many of our readers. Still more surprising is it to find that drudgery of setting CO] )ics.” The u.sc of the ])cn, except in ordinary cursive Avriting, is^ necessarily unfamiliar to his hand. Not so- Avith his predecessor. Occupied as he Avas for a considerable portion of each day in Avriting cojnes in text liand, Avhat Avas more natural than that, feeling confidence in hi.s. ])ower to execute such co])ies Avith facility and l)eauty, he should, for his OAvn pleasure, attempt them iqjon a still larger scale ? The result of such ])racticc was, of course, sur])assing freedom of hand. These men could Avritc Avith ease and rajndity copies of extremely large size, or bold and accurately proportioned cajhtals of three or four inches in height, forming a great contrast to the miserable, stunted, angular abortions Avith Avhich hundreds of the ledger- clerks of the laesent day deface their books. We haA’e before inq)ressed upon our students the necessity and advantages of tliis {nactice, but the subject is of such importance that it CoHHt^ yrur ()omt\tf)e'’wf)a£itar]A yo'kr Tie^f^ourS^ nbt jhfmdCsyour cf^iCrfren ,(inifj/our C^iGCre^vyoiir oton ^f^(^onr7r^tDj’u7j)CJ^i oM fhj c(^^u(^ocC iiatur^. H.AXDWRITIXG OF QUFFX FLIZABETU. the ancient Avriting-masters had thought out their subject so systematically and Avell as to have antici])ated most of our vaunted methods of modern days. "We have already noted that ‘•])eneillcd” co])y-books, or those in Avhich the cojnes are printed in faint characters, in order that the learner may go over them Avith j)cn and ink, Avas a suggcstioTi of the celebrated .John J^ocke ; and in the same manner many of tlie boasted novel systems of transatlantic or foreign origin are to be found in the lengthy treatises of our old English Avri ting-masters. besides Avhnt Ave may term their good theo- retical knowledefc of the aiT to Avhich their life energies Averc devoted, these men ])Ossessed a ])ractical cx])cricnce almost im})ossible to ])arallel in our oavu days. Tavo things u})on Avhich they laid much stress conduced grc.atly ,, to this — viz., ‘•command of hand” Command of nourishing.” The fil'st is l)ut little regarded now. Indeed, this can h.ardly be othcrAvise Avhen the Aviiting-mastcr is relieved from the tedious Avill bear reiterating. No surer means can be- found of obtaining a b(dd and free chirography than the assiduous Avriting of co})ics much above the size of ordinary large text — in fact, as large as the hand of the Avriter can compass. It is, hoAvcver, essential in these exercises that the hand be ke{)t strictly in the pro])cr position. If the learner does not strike the letters by freedom of lingers alone, Avith the hand resting sim])ly on the "extremity of the little linger, and the f(U-c-arni free of the desk, the practice is- Avorse than useless. L'igid lingers and a resting Avrist may sullicc \o paint large letters, but not to orrite them. When the hand is sulliciently formed it may ])C that the student Avill adopt, cr, to put it more scientifically, his indivi- duality may express itself in, a very minute style of penmanship, but his previous piuctice in a bold hand Avill prove of great service to liim. and he Avill })roduce his small characters Avith all the greater freedom and ease because of his ability to write large Avhen Tiecessary. The greater here certainly includes the less. 430 THE UXIVEIiSAL IXSTRUCTOR. XIV. Examples ox Foregoing Rules. Example 1 : Add together the following : — ton cwt. qr. ijn oz. Adding together all the , A .. '1 ounces, we get 23 oz. (^Lc. 0 6 1 1 5 down 7 1 n -j 1 9 carry 1 to the pounds. ' Adding together this 1 and o . "7 ~ I the pounds in the pounds column, we get 28 lb. {i.e. Z qr. 0 lb.) .*. put down 0 and carry 1 to the qrs. We find 8 qrs. (/.c. 2 cwt. 0 qr.) ; .'. put ■down 0 (p-. and cany 2 to the cwts. We find 2\ cwf. (v.c.. 1 ton 4 cwt.). I’ut down the 4 cwt. iind carry the 1 to the tons. This gives us 3 tons. Example 2 : Subtract 19 cwt. 1 qr. 17 lb. 3 oz. from 1 ton 1 cwt. 1 (jr. 1 lb. 1 oz. ton cwt. qr. lb. oz. 3 . n 10 IT’ a ^ 10+ 1 leave 14. ^ Carry 1 to the 17 lb. Then G 1 a 11 11 ^ can't; but 18 fi*om 28 + 1 leave 11. Carry 1 to the 1 qr. Then 2 qrs. from 1 cp-. w'C can’t ; but 2 from 4 + 1 leave 3. Carry 1 to the 19 cwt. Then 20 cwt. from 20 + 1 leave 1. Carry 1 and subtract it fi’om 1 ton. There is no remainder. lb. oz. dwb. gr. Example 3 : Multiply 150 9 15 20 ly G. G 904 10 15 0 6 X 20 grs. = 120 grs. = 5 dwt. 0 grs. ; .*. put •down 0 under the grs. and carry 5. G X 1 5 dwt. = 90 dwt. and 90 + 5 = 95 dwt. = 4 oz. 15 dwt. ; .*. put down 15 and carry 4. G X 9 oz. = 54 oz. Add 4 oz. Gives 58 oz, = 4 lb, 10 oz. G X 150 db. = 900 lb. Add 4 lb. = 904 lb. lb. oz.dw't. gr. Example 4 : Divide 904 10 15 0 by G. 11}. oz.dwt.gr. G)904 10 15 0 150... rem. 4 lb. 12 G)58 oz. 9... rem. 4 oz. 20 G)95 dwt. 15... rem. 5 dwt. 24 6)120 gr. 20 Dividing the highest denomination pounds) by,G we get quotient 150, remainder ■4 11), Multi laying these 4 by 12 to reduce them to oz., and adding in the 10 oz. of the dividend, we get 58 oz. Dividing this by 6 we get quotient 9 oz., remainder 4 oz, Multqdying 4 oz. by 20, and adding in the 15 dwt. of the dividend, we get 95 dwts., which divided ly G gives quotient 15; remainder 5 dwt. Multi- plying the 5 by 24, to reduce dwts. to grs., we have 120 grs., which divided by 6 gives 20 grs. without remainder. Ans. 1501b. 9oz. 15 dwt. 20 gr. Example 5 : How many times are 5 cwt. 3 qrs. 13 lb. contained in 49 tons G cwt. Oqr. 7 lb. ? cwt. qr. lb. ton cwt. qr. lb. 5 4 3 13 49 20 23' I 986 4 92 ! ^28 1 3944' 4 644^ 13 1 15776 7| 657 lb. 110432, 7 657)110439(168 657 110439 4473 3942 6319 5256 63 Ans. 168... rem. 63. The lowest denomination in cither compound quantity is lbs. ; .’. we must reduce each quan- tity to ibs. This is done as indicated here. Observe that instead of multiplying by 28 to reduce qrs. to lbs., we multiply successively by 4 and by 7. The first quantity reduces to G57 lb., and the other to 1104391b. By simple division we find fhat the former number is contained in the latter 168 times, leaving a remainder G3. Exerciscff. 1. Perform the following additions : — lb. oz. dwt. gr. (a) 1 3 15 0 7 11 23 19 6 0 0 1 lb. oz. dwt. gr. (c) 150 6 13 14 109 5 0 6 40 0 10 0 tons cwt. qr. lb. cz. {(•) 7 19 0,7 1 16 15 1 14 13 5 0 2 6 2 0 12 3 11 4 lb. oz.dwt.gr. (&) 9 4 3 17 17 6 0 8 0 10 5 0 ton. cwt. qr. lb. oz. {(1) 15 16 1 0 0 3 0 3 1 15 4 5 0 19 1 106 10 0 6 0 tons cwt. qr. lb. oz. (/) 5 2 1 16 13 0 7 2 2 6 17 14 0 13 2 3 6 2 10 11 ancient UlSTOllY. 431 2. Perform the following subtractions : — tons cwt. qr. tons cwt. qr. tons cwt. qr. ia) 5 11 2 (Z») 21 18 3 (c) 13 17 0 1 15 3 17 19 2 9 18 3 cwt. qr. lb. (d) 17 3 21 15 0 17 (^) oz. dwt. gr, 21 18 20 8 17 15 cwt. qr. lb. cwt. qr. , lb. 15 0 7 (/) 28 3 20 11 2 15 13 1 27 oz. dwt. gr. oz.dwt. gr. 1 17 11 21 (k) 26 9 18 13 14 18 21 11 2I 3. Add together the following : — (a) 6 tons Icwt. 2qrs., and 560 cwt., and 35 itons, and 1201b. (&) 1631b., and 51 oz., and 13qrs. (c) 95 oz., and 721b., and 33qrs., and 15 cwt. Subtract : — (d) 1 oz. from 1 ton. (e) 11b. from 10 tons 3qrs. (/) Add together the differences in the last two exercises, and fr’om the result subtract 1 . on 1 cwt. 1 qr. 1 lb, 1 oz, 4. Calculate the following, multiplying by the factors of each multiplier Avhen possible : — (a) 3 cwt. 3qrs. 31b, X 29. (&) 15 cwt. Iqr. 51b. X 15. (c) 17 cwt. 2qrs. 191b. X 93. (^) 71b. 8oz, ]6(lwt. 13grs. x 29. (e) 15oz, 13dwt. 21grs. X 113. (/)29oz. Idwt. llgrs. X 276. Iff) 18tons 3 cwt. 2qrs. 9oz. x 23. (A) 3 tons 11 cwt. Iqr. X 15. (k) 5oz. 7dwt. 13grs. X 56. In the following exercises, divide first by the given divisors, and then by the factors com- posing the multipliers, and show that the two results are the same. 5. Divide — (а) 5 tons 3 cwt. 2qrs. by 4. (б) 57tons 12cwt. 3qrs. by 16. (racticos of Ahaz, A desperate battle ensued ; it is stated that a hundred and twenty thousand men of Israel were killed in one day, and two hundred thousand women and children carried away to Samaria. Not only was the young king, a man of weak character, attacked by the united armies on ! the north and east; but the Philistines, on the 4:^2 THE JJNI I 'EltSA L IXSTR ECTOR. south-western border of the kingdom, captured cities, and the Edomites made raids into the country, and took away many cajhives. In this extremity Ahaz appealed for AppealofMaz, Tiglath-Pileser, the most ® ^ • powerful monarch of the time, before whom the kings of noj’thern Syria, ] )ainascus, and even of Israel, had (piailed. The 7nonuments record an embassy from Ahaz (Vaiiuliazi) ; and the Scriptural narrative (2 Kings xvi. 7) tells us that Ahaz sent mes- sengers to Tiglath-pileser, king of Assyria, saying, 1 am thy servant and thy son; eome ip) and save me out of the hand of the king of Syria and tlie hand of the king of Israel, which rise up against me." The ambassadors bore ])resents of the silver and gold that was found in the house of the Lord" [the Temple at Jerusalem] ••and the treasures of the king's Assyria went up against Damascus, and took it, and carried the peo])lc of it ca{)tive to Ker, and slew llezin.” AVe are indebted tuthe decipherers, of the monumental records for details of the great campaign, llezin (or I’ezon), the king of Damascus, prepared to meet the formidable ally of Ahaz, but sustained a terrible defeat. His army was scattered, his horses and chariots, fell into the hands of the Assyrians, and thousands of his best warriors were made pri- soners, the leading captains being immediately crucified. Kezoii liimself fled from the field of battle, and succeeded in reaching Damascus, which was strongly fortified. Leaving a large army to caiiy on the siege of the capital of Syria, Tiglath-Pileser, with a large force, marched southwards on a career of desola- tion. City after city (nearly six hund7-ed is the nu77ibcr stated, probaoly 77ia7iy of them o77ly GA ZA ho 77 se.” This application fi’0777 the king of Judah a])])ears to have been readily acceded to by Tiglath-Pilesei-, already master of a con- siderable portion of 7)orther7i Sy7'ia, and to whom influence over the kingdo77i of Judah was a step towards intimidating his great rival m the attc7npt to establi.sh universal dominion — Egyi)t. AVe now find a nearer aj)proach to syn- chronis7n betwee7i the two chro7iologies thaTi i7i the p 7 -evious reco7-ds. The inscriptio7i gives the date of the application of Ahaz to Tiglath- Pileser as 735 B.C. ; the Biblical record fixes it at 740 B.C. ; and the differe7icc being only five years, we have really a reiiiark- Siege of confirmation of the accuracy Damascus. Scriptui'al narrative. In the Book of Kings we have a very brief relation of the subseq77e7it occurrences : “ The king of villages) belonging to the Syrian kings, who had so lepcatedly bi-oken faith with hi7n, was ca] 7 tui-ed, and the inhabitants carried away into ca])tivity. The whole of the territories of Bezon wo'.'e ove7Tun and subdued, the capital, Damascus, exce])ted. It was too strong to be stoi-med, and only by the plan of cutting off su])]')lies could the garrison be made to sui'- 7’ei7der. The stores of provisio7is must have bec77 considerable, for the city held out more than two years. The kingdom of Israel was the next to be invaded. The north of thecountry was occupied, and the tribes beyond Jordan . 7nade ca])tives. The Scriptu7-al ”isra°d.° record (2 Kings xv. 21)) is : “ In the days of Pekah, king of Israel, cama Tiglath-pilesei’. king of Assyria, and took Ijon and Abel-beth-maachah, and Janoah, and ANCIENT HISTORY. 433 Kedesh and Hazor and Gilead and Galilee, all the land of Naphtali, and carried them captive to Assyria.” The king, Pekah, took refuge in Samaria, and there remained in safety while his territories were a prey to the ruthless Assyrians. The Ammonites, Moabites, and Philistines were next attacked. Mitinti, prince of Ashkelon, the Philistine city on the borders of the MediteiTanean, killed himself when he heard of the approach of the mighty Assyrian; but his son, Kukupti, more politic, made sub- mission. The king of Gaza fled into Egypt, but afterwards returned, being permitted to resume his throne on paying a heavy tribute. Crossing the country swiftly to the east, the Assyrian king ravaged the land of Edom ; and Queen Samsi, described vaguely as the Arabian queen,” was compelled to submit ; and a large number of people belonging to Arabian tribes, thirty thousand camels and more than twenty thousand oxen were carried off. Samsi herself escaped for a time, but was captured. Either from policy, or an unwonted Ahaz went to Damascus to meet Tiglath-Pileser, king of Assyria.” ^me of the Syrian princes refused to pre- sent themselves — among them Metenna of Tyre; but an Assyrian general was immediately sent to attack the town, then the foremost maritime city of the world, and an enormous tribute, equivalent in value to nearly half a million of our currency, was exacted. Then Tiglath-Pileser returned to Nineveh, where he had built a splendid palace near the bend of the river Khozr. Pekah, king of Israel, had been murdered by the usurper Hoshea, who had been raised to the throne by the influence of the Assyrian king ; and for a time the Syrian land, from Dan to Beersfleba, was quiet. The blow inflicted had been too severe to permit immediate reaction. During his absence there had been new dissensions i-n Babylonia, and Tiglath-Pileser again invaded the country. One of the local *' chiefs, described as Nabu-usabi, king of the Silani, who offered resistance, was captured! MOUNT feeling of compassion, Tiglath-Pileser restored Samsi to her position as queen, but appointed an Assyi’ian to watch over her — to be, in fact, what in modern language one might describe as a “ resident ” in her dominions. Other tribes were subdued, and it would seem that the conquests extended even to the northern part of Egypt, where a governor was appointed by Tiglath-pileser, at the request of some of the inhabitants. Damascus at last fell. The surrounding woods had all been cut down for the use of the besiegers, and not a tree remained near the city. The Assyrian king, returning from his southern raid, entered in triumph. King Eezon was killed and the greater number of the inhabitants caiTied away. Then a great recep- tion was held, at which about sixteen of the petty kings of Syria attended, promised allegi- ance to the conqueror, and paid tribute. Among them was Ahaz of Judah, whose name appears on the tablet, confirming the sta>tement in the Second Book of Kings (xvi. 7), “ And King VOL. I. AEABAT. and cruelly impaled in front of his palace, and his wife, children and treasure, with fifty-five thousand of the people, carried away. (The numbers given indicate a densely populated country.) Other petty kings were subdued; but one, Kinzira, of the tribe of Amukkan, was unsuccessfully besieged, and appears to have been the only Babylonian or Chaldean chief who retained his independence. The Assyrian king was proclaimed king of Baby- lonia, and instituted splendid festivals in the chief cities of the country in honour of Bel, the supreme god. Then came the end of the reign of this energetic and remorseless warrior. How or where he died we know not, for only a frag- mentary allusion to a new mili-Deaf^of Tiglath- tary expedition remains. During his reign of eighteen years he revived and • consolidated Assyria, vanquished and subdued nearly all neighbouring states, and bequeathed to his successor, Shalmaneser IV., a wealthy and powerful empire. 28 • 434 THE VNIYEBSAL INSTRUCTOR. XVII. The Pronouxs (coiUinned). Sclf-Exaniinatio)i Qucations and Exercises. What is a pronoun, and why is it so called i What are the pronouns substantive, and what are the pronouns adjective ? What do you mean by pronouns personal, reflective, posses- sive, demonstrative, r(dative, and interrogative? Decline ego, tu, se, ille, Ij^se, and qui and quis. How do you account for such forms as qnts-, quondam, quonnidam ? Distinguish the differ- ent meanings of is, hie, ille, and isfe. What possessive pronouns are declined like ho7ius, and what like ater ? Explain how it comes to pass that there are no distinct reflective pro- nouns for the first and second persons. Translate into English : — Neuter horum hominum est major natu quam alter. Alii sunt docti, alii non sunt simplices. Quis est doctissimus nostrorum civium in hoc clarissimo tempore nostrie optimae reipub- licfE ? Unusquisque nostrum est mortalis. Tibi est vita jucundior in maxima nrbe ter- rarum cum viris felicissimis et doctissimis. Quis est felicior quam tu, 0 optime nostrorum civium ! In se est omnis sua cura. Pars major hujus horti est mea, non tua. Hoc est idem quod illud. Quan'-a est prudentia vestra, et qualis virtus est ? Est vir optimus, qui est optimus eivium. In isto horto pulcherrimo erunt flores plurimi et fructus utilissimi. Quidam philo- sophus est in hac urbe, qui erit gloria summa nostrae clarissimae gentis, et deliciae totius generis humani. Translate into Latin : — Each ( n^ of you is a citizen of that most celebrated city of Rome. Concerning those three books of philosophy there is nothing very doubtful. The man yonder is wiser than thou and than all of us. Very many men have very many faults (say there are to for have). Very often the youngest men are the most active. The lances of those soldiers are brighter than their swords, and this most pure light of the sun. Behind the darkest cloud often is the brightest light to each one amongst ourselves. Who was more learned than Cicero, more brave than Caesar? and what animal is whiter than snow ? The very books of very learned men are the greatest monu- ments of their learning. How many men are there in the city? There are some few, not many. hurts , — where est is the verb in the former sentence, and nocet the verb in the latter sentence. Observe that it is impossible to form a sentence, however short, without a verb ; and it is for this very reason that the verb is so called — from the Latin verbum, the word — for it is the most indispensable of all words in the sentence. You can make a sen- I tence without any other part of speech in it j except the verb, but a verb you must have if j you are to have a sentence. I The Transitive Verb is one that takes an I Accusative case after it to complete its mean- I ing, and on which the action of the verb is considered to (hence its name, from transeo, to pass on to), as iiucrum ccedo, I beat the boy, where the striking action of the master passes on to the boy’s back or hand. The Intransitive Verb is one which does not take any case after it to complete its sense, as its sense is already complete : as dormit, the boy is sleeping. (It is called so from in, not, and transeo, to pass on.) The Beqyonent Verb has a passive but an active meaning : as ntor, I am using, where or is the form of th-e passive voice. (The de- ponent is called so from deponens, laying aside its passive sense when it assumes the passive form.) Deponent verbs are conjugated like passive verbs, but have also gerunds, supines, participles, and future infinitives of an active form. Observe that intransitive deponents have no supine in u, nor gerundives. Latin Verbs have two Voices, Active and Passive ; and also they have two Parts, h inite and Infinite. The Verb Finite has three Moods • 1. The Indicative Mood. 2. The Sujunctive or Conjunctive Mood. 3. The Imperative Mood. The Verb Infinite consists of Verbal Nouns and Adjectives : 1, The Infinitive, which is a verbal noun. 2. The Participle, which is a verbal adjective and declined like an adjective. t The Si I supplying cases to the infinitive when it acts as a noun. Verbs have Seven Tenses ; Primary. — Present, as dmd, I love. Future Simple, as dnidbo, I shall love. Future Perfect, as dmdvero, I shall have loved. Perfect, as dm din, I have loved. Historic. — Imperfect, as dmdbam, I was loving. Aorist, as dmdvl, I loved. Pluperfect, as I had loved. Note. — There is only one form for the Perfect and Aorist ; so amavi either = I have loved, or I loved. XVIII. The Verb. — Voice, Mood and Tense, and ‘ Sum ’ AND ITS Compounds. In Lesson HI., if you will remember, I told you a verb states what a thing or person is, what it does, or w'hat it suffers : as rex est homo, the king is a man; nox nocet, night Verbs have two Numbers, Singular and Plural, and three Persons in^each number. The First Person is that which speaks : as anio, I love, amamus, we love. The Second Person is that?rZf m^ is spoJiento : as amas, thou lovest, amatis, ye love. The Third Person is that which is spoken of\ as amat, he loves, amant, they love. PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 436 The pronouns ego, nos, tu, vos, ille, illi, are respectively understood in each case. Hoods. Mood meoxis, manner, or mode, from modus = manner. Verbs have three Moods, or manners of stating a thing — the Indicative, the Subjunc- tive, or the Imperative. The Indicative or Declaring mood states a fact, and is therefore generally used for the principal verb in a sentence: as cvedo, I beat. The Subjunctive or Subjoinable or Conjunc- tive mood, so called because it is generally subjoined to some other verb, states, not a fact, but something thought of: as {si) ccederem, ^if) I were to beat. The Imperative or Commanding mood com- mands’ or aSks : a,s ccede Petrum, beat Peter. The Infinitive or Indefinite mood expresses the action of the verb in an indefinite manner : as ccedere, to beat. Under the Infinitive mood are generally placed the participles and the gerunds and supines. The participles, so called because they participate both in the nature of verbs and adjectives, are in fact adjectives capable of expressing difference of voice and time, and also completion, and can be either transitive or intransitive. Tenses. Tense means time, from temjnis = time. Verbs in the Indicative mood have six Tenses or times. These tenses must refer either to the present, the past, or the future; and they must represent either what is per- fect (that is, complete), or imperfect (that is, incomplete). Hence we have the present imperfect, as ca;do, I am beating ; the past imperfect, as ccedcbam, I was beating ; the future imperfect, as ccedam, I shall beat ; the present perfect (often used in an aorist or indefinite sense), as cecldi, I have beaten, or I beat ; the past per- fect, as cecideram, I had beaten ; and the future perfect, as cecldero, I shall have beaten. XIII. The Mountains {continued.) The term chain is applied to mountains and hills connected by a continued base, and form- ing a line, which may be straight, Direction angular, or curved. A chain does ® necessarily mean an uninter- rupted line of eminences, but a range, which may be variable in height, or even detached, yet lying so evidently in the same direction as to indicate a continuous base. A mountain sgstem is a series of these chains. Many chains present two or three nearly parallel ranges, the highest occupying the centre. In such cases, the central mass is generally of ancient formation, and the asso- ciated ranges secondary or tertiary. The Alps, the mountains of Central Asia, and the moun- tains of Syria, Mesopotamia, Persia, Arabia, and North and South America are instances. The lateral ranges decrease in elevation in proportion to the distances from the central mass, and gradually diminish in height till they are lost in the general surface of the adjacent ranges, plain. The point of greatest elevation of a main range is generally about the centre of the line of extension, and the highest part of a branch chain is at the junction with the main chain. “ Spurs ” are minor branches, offshoots of the inferior ranges, sinking and merging into the neighbouring lowlands. There are various methods of estimating the direction of a mountain chain. Some geographers take a line passing through the culminating points at the maximum of height ; otliers the longitudinal axis of the entire chain, or of the whole upheaved ridge ; and others, the “ watershed,” or the line which divides the streams flowing down each side of the range ; but Humboldt adopted the line following the edges of the upheaved strata, or the axis of the fissure which resulted from the upheaval of the mass. This certainly affords the most correct definition of the direction of a chain ; for the line so traced is that along which the force has been exerted, and it lies in many instances at right angles to the direction of the dip of the upheaved strata. In the western hemisphere, or “ New World,” the western mountains follow the coast-line in double or triple ridges, nearly parallel, and in the direction of the meridians, from north to south. In the eastern hemisphere, or “ Old World,” no single well-defined chain runs throughout, but there is a broad belt of moun- tainous country, nearly at right angles to th-^ meridians, stretching through the hearts cf continents. In some parts of the Scandina- vian and Scotch systems the direction of the ranges is nearly from north-east to south-wesf. In Noi-th Africa, the direction of the Atlas and the Abyssinian ranges is generally parallel to the systems of southern Europe ; but the highest chain farther south follows the line of the east coast. In South Africa the chains have generally a north-eastern and south-western direction ; and a similar fact is observable in Australia. As we propose to describe, in detail, in future chapters, the physical . geography of each of the great Mountain divSio.i/of the globe, it is only necessary now to indicate some of the more prominent characteristics of the mountain systems. Beginning with the Eastern hemisphere, _we may notice that a remarkable similarity exists in the conformation of Europe and Asia. The central spine of Europe (to use an expressive phrase) is the Alpine mass, and of Asia the chains which extend from the Taurus and Caucasus in the west to the Pacific Ocean in the east, each presenting a large central mass, 43G THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. or nucleus, bifurcated at its extremity. The mountainous region of Asia Minor has a notice- able analogy with the Pyrenees and the ancient and partly igneous masses of central France. The Hungarian and Styrian basins, or depres- sions, between the divisions of the Alps, are re- peated on a very large scale in China. The basin 01 the Lower Danube corresponds with that of Tonquin ; and many districts of Turkey in Europe are represented in the peninsula beyond the Ganges. There are secondary ranges in the mountain masses of Central Asia, as in the Alps ; and the Asian and Alpine chains alike exhibit clefts orpass^es — “ passes ” or “cols” — opened by convulsions of nature. North of the Alps are only a few domes of igneous rock, exactly reproduced in Asia, and, at a greater distance from the central chains, the ancient volcanic districts on the banks of the Rhine, and on the north-west of Germany and north of Bohemia, are analogous to the elevated groups of Asia, — such as Ararat, the Caucasus, and in the neighbourhood of Lakes Aral and Baikal. There is a remarkable resemblance between the southern parts of Europe and Asia, depend- ing chiefly on the similarity of the mountain masses, with their slopes and adjacent valleys. Glancing from west to east, we recognise an analogy between Spain and Arabia, Corsica, Sardinia, and Italy (supposing the level of the intervening sea to be lowered, so as to show the connexion of the mass of land), and the Indian peninsula ; Greece and Turkey, and the penin- sula beyond the Ganges. The volcanoes and their deposits on the Mediterranean and its archipelago have similitudes in the Sunda Islands, the Malayan archipelago, and Japan. The direction of the western or Pacific coast is followed, in North America, by the Pacific Maritime chain, a lofty range America. stretching northward from the peninsula of California, and separating the Pacific slope from the great Western table- land ; and by the irregular and lofty Rocky Mountains, extending from Central America to the confines of the Arctic Ocean, between the Western and Central table-lands. The Mari- time chain and the Rocky Mountains are some- times described as the Pacific highlands. In South America, the great mountain spine of the continent is continued southward from the ridges of Central America by the great chain of the Andes, the mountain system of Parana, and the coast chain of Venezuela. From the Andes immense transverse chains, the Cordilleras, extend eastward across the northern part of the continent. The north-western part of the African conti- nent is occupied by the great ranges of the Atlas, forming a natural division be- Atnca. tween the Mediterranean Sea and the Sahara desert. To the south-west of the desert, and nearly parallel with the Guinea coast, are the Kong mountains, making, with the Cameroon mountains, the northern limit of the immense central table-land, described as High Africa. Near the eastern coast are the loftiest ranges and peaks, and farther north the lofty Abyssinian ranges, which may be considered as a prolongation of the eastern chain. The southern transverse ranges will be more par- ticularly noticed when treating of the physical geography of the continent. The loftiest mountains of Australia are on the south-eastern and eastern parts of the great island, and the mountains of . Tasmania may be considered as branches. In New Zealand and the South Sea Islands the mountains are generally isolated and volcanic. The following are the mountain chains which rise to more than 10,000 feet above the sea level, with the chains, maximum elevation : — HIGHEST PEAK. FEET. Himalaya (Asia) 28,000 Andes (South America) . . . 25,000 Kuen-lin Mountains (Eastern Asia) . 22,000 Thian-Sun (Eastern Asia) . . . 19,000 Volcanic Mountains (Central America) 19,000 Kilimandjaro (Africa) .... 18,700 Caucasus (Asia) 18,464 Rocky ]\Iountains (North America) . 17,800 Alps (Euroije) 16,781 Abyssinian (Africa) .... 15,000 Atlas (Africa) . , . . . 12,000 Pyrenees (Europe) .... 11,168 The height of the snow-line, or limit of per- petual snow on mountains, will be described further on, as also the effect of the direction of ranges, meridional or otherwise, on the fauna and flora of mountainous regions. A remark- able matter in connexion with the different di- rections of the chains may be noticed, although not strictly connected with physieal geography. The meridional ranges, or those which run fi’om north to south, appear to have little effect on the nationahty of the people of the countries traversed ; but chains of mountains running from east to west seem to be very formidable barriers, impeding the fusion of races. It has been remarked that the immense meridional wall of the Scandinavian mountains has been no barrier to the occupancy of the country, on both its sides, by people connected by descent ; and that, in both Americas, where the meri- dional direction characterizes all the chief chains, there is only one copper-coloured race, although the continent stretches through more chmacteric zones than Europe or Africa, or than Asia and Australia united. On the other hand, the Spaniards differ greatly from the French, from whom they are separated by the Pyrenees; and the Italians have far less affinity with the Germans, north of the Alps, than with the Spaniards. The fact is probably capable of explanation with reference to other causes than mountain chains. A general outline of tke great mountain systems of the earth may be sketched in this manner. They assume the form of an irregular curve (with secondary chains and offshoots),, surrounding the Pacific and Indian Oceans on the east, north, and west. The great American ranges, nearly nine thousand miles long, are the eastern limb of the curve ; the Asiatic mountain systems, with ramifi<:ations extending PHYSICAL^ GEOGRAPHY. 437 across the south of Europe, and the parallel Atlas ranges, mark the northern limits of the eolossal ocean basin, and the African mountains, from Abyssinia to the southern cape, the western limit. Table-Lands, Plains, Valleys, and Deserts. The term table-land, or plateau, is applied to any extensive mass of elevated land adjoining or intervening between mountain systems. It may have undulations, hills, and valleys, be traversed by mountain ridges, and serve as a platform for lofty peaks ; but its prevailing character is that of a highly-raised region on which there is a considerable area of plain surface, from its aspect and height styled “table- land,” the whole presenting either gradual slopes or abrupt declivities, and sometimes terrace-shaped sides to the adjoining lowlands. The most extensive elevated regions of this character are in Central Asia. There is a vast upheaved region in the middle of Tabic-lands of the continent, the southern border Asia. extending from the Indus to the Straits of Fokien, and supporting the chain of the Himalaya, which may be described as marking the southern edge of the great plateau ; the eastern border from the Amoor on the north to the Yang-tse-Kiang on the east ; the northern border marked by the Altai mountain system. Within these boundaries the plateau is traversed by the mountain systems, and there is a western extension from the highlands of Turkestan. A considerable portion of this elevated region consists of the desert of Gobi (in Mongolian “ a naked desert”), or, as the Chinese name it, Shamo (“ sea of sand ”), or Han-hai (“ the dry sea”). This vast desolate tract, the elevation of which varies from 2,500 to 5,800 feet, is nearly 2,000 miles long, and 2.50 miles in average breadth, or about four times the size of Great Britain and Ireland. Connected on the south with this great Central Table-land by the Hindoo-Koosh mountains, and of considerably greater extent, is the Table-land of Iran, sometimes described as the Western Highlands of Asia, including the greater part of Persia and Afghanistan, and extending over more than 800,000 square miles. The average elevation is about 3,000 feet, but on the eastern portion of Afghanistan it rises to nearly 7,000 feet. The northern limit is marked by the Elburz mountains ; the eastern by the Suliman range, west of the Indus ; and the southern and western borders of the plateau extend to the Persian Gulf and the Arabian Sea. Farther west is the Table -land of Ar- menia, composed of a series of mountain chains and terraced slopes, and extending between i the Caspian and Black Seas and the Gulf of Scanderoon. The mean elevation of this region is about 7,000 feet. The Table-land of Anatolia, or Asia Minor, is a western prolongation of the Armenian plateau, rising in some parts to 3,300 feet, but depressed in the centre. Other Asiatic table-lands are the Arabian, reaching an elevation near the centre of 8,000 feet, but sloping into terraces on the east and south ; and the Deccan, or central portion of the peninsula of Hindostan. The most extensive district of this character in Europe is in the Spanish peninsula, which on the northern side attains an elevation of 3,000 feet, and on TaWe-lands of the southern 2,000 feet. The Europe, plateau of Bavaria has a mean height of about 2,000 feet ; and there is a region of moderate SANDSTORM IN THE DESEET. 438 THE UNIVERSAL INSmUCTOR. elevation in the south-western portion of Norway. Neai^ two-thirds of the African continent form a plateau extending from the south of the Sahara to the borders of Cape Table-lpds Colony ; and there are other of Africa, plateaux in Abyssinia. These remarkable regions will be more partieulaiiy described in a future section. The most remarkable plateau of North America is known as the Great Western Desert Plateau, a broad belt Table-lands about .5000 feet in mean eleva- of America. between the Rocky IMoim- tains and the Pacific chain, stretching from the Gulf of California to the Polar Sea, and embracing wide, rainless salt deserts, lofty volcanic plains, and traversed by mountain ranges. South of this is the great Table-land of Mexico, continued on to Central America. In South America there are very lofty plateaux between the ranges of the Andes. At Quito, under the equator, the elevation is about 9,000 feet ; at Pasco, about 12 degrees to the south, 11.000 feet ; and the Table-land of Potosi, or Titicaca, surrounded by the loftiest summits of the Andes, is 12,700 feet in elevation, on a level yfith the summits of some of the loftiest peaks of the European Alps. On the eastern side of the great island- continent, and westward of the mountain chains, are extensive plateaux. Table-lands of locally known as “ Downs,” sink- Austraiia. gradually into the large de- pression of the desert of Central Australia. XIII. Etymology : Classification of Words. § 9S. Vn. Conjinictionx. § 99. Compound and Complex Sentences. § 100. VIII. Interjections. § 101. The actual use of words is to he considered. § 98. VII. Besides the prepositions which I’oin words, there is the class of words, called Conjunctions, which join sentences together. These are of two kinds, classified aceording to the sort of sentences they join. 1. The co-ordinate conjunctions, which join indepen- dent sentences, as and, but, either, or, neither, nor. 2. Sub-ordinate conjunctions, which join to principal sentences those which are depend- ent on the’in for their meaning, such as for, because, since, as, if, unless, so, till, that, also, although, etc. Examples of the first class appear in. He is good or he is great ; “ Drink with me and drink as I ; ” You are rich but I am poor. Of the second class the following are instances : “ I came because your horse would come I vull read if you will sing ; I wait till you come ; He whipped them, so they cried ; They cannot make hay unless the sun shines ; It was so cold that I put on my coat. There are also several phrases or compound words that may be used as conjunctive expres- sions: lihe-u'ise, as soon as, never -the-lcss, how- ever, not-withstanding, so that, in as much as, etc. § 99. A Simple Sentence, or that which gives the sense of a comjfiete thought, is composed, as we have seen (§ 81), of a subject and a pre- dicate, with or without an object. Two simple sentences joined by a co-ordinate conjunction form a Compound Sentence ; each clause is good sense without the other, and stands as of equal power ; they are co-ordinates. The con- junction does not form part of either — ^it only serves to connect them : You are rieh, I am poor ; the but simply joins them. The co- ordinate conjunctions only join independent sentences. There is a third kind of sentence, the Complex Sentence, formed of two simple sentences which are not of equal power ; one depends upon the other for the full expression of what it signifies ; it is sub-ordinate to the first ox jyrinefial sentence. Thus, in “ I came because your horse would come,” the conjunc- tion because introduces the second sentence, “ your horse would come,” and at the same time shows how it hangs on the first one, “ I came.” Here the conjunction adds to the meaning of the clause ; it does not merely connect, as we see proved if we reverse the clauses : “ Because your horse would come, I came ” still conveys the same idea (the answer to tlie question why did I come ?); but if we substitute and for because we cannot do this : “ And your horse would come, I came,” gives no sense at all. (Of course it is good sense, but very different from the original, to say, “ I came and your horse would come.”) So it is with the other subordmate conjunctions; they introduce and join the subordinate sentences to their principals. Hence, when we are dealing with the analysis of speech — i.e., taking language to pieces to separate the ideas, not the single words — it is important to notice at the begkining what sort of conjunctions con- nect the sentences, as they give at once a token by which to know these. It is because they join and introduce subordinate sentences in a similar manner that the relatival ad- verbs have been called conjunctions. “T will comct> n-hen you wish ; ” “ the wind bloweth whereit listeth ; ” the words ichen and where perform the part of conjunc- tions, but at the same time preserve the force of ad- verbs in regard to the verb of the principal clause. § 100. VIII. Interjections are not considered as really “parts of speech,” being merely ejacu- lations or expressions of sudden emotion, which have no relation grammatically to other words. Still, as there are recognized forms for certain feelings, they cannot quite be left out of sight in the consideration of language. Oh! ah! goodbye! (a contraction of the sentence, God be with ye), alas! hurrah! gjoeh! are some of the interjections. § 101. In concluding this description of the grammatical “parts of speech,” one thing must be impressed upon the student — namely, that every word must be considered according to its ASmONOMY. 439 use in the sentence ; no word should be dealt with as an isolated thing, on its own absolute nature. For, as we have seen, what is a noun taken by itself may become an adjective by the manner in which it is used ; brick is a noun by itself, but in ‘‘ a brick wall ” it becomes an adjective ; ^picture is a noun by itself, but in picture-h:^rQA it is an adjective. Clearly under- stand the principle on which the arrangement of each of the seven classes is based, and the examination of words and sentences be- comes a delightful exercise of common sense and reason. There is an inherent principle to each of the chief Parts of Speech ; but the English language is so flexible that almost any word of one class may be used as a word of another. Thus nouns may become adjec- tives ; adjectives are frequently understood as nouns ; “ How the blacks are falling ! ” “ On, ye brave ! ” “ None but the brave deserve the fair," etc. As to our verbs, a distinguished German scholar tells us that “ the question whether a verb is [exclusively] transitive or intransitive in English is frequently not to be answered. . . . No other tongue avails itself to the same extent as the English of the liberty of inter- changing notions of activities” {Maetzner). We should ordinarily say that to seek is a transitive verb ; Seek the child. They are seeking me ; so also of fire and kill : Fire a house, Kill a man, etc.; yet it is not uncommon to find such verbs used with an intransitive sense : “ Seek, fire, kill,” is found in Shakespeare. Again, the verb to move is usually transitive : Move that chair. The table is moved ; but we can also (as with others, by the omission of the object) use it in an intransitive sense, and say, I move. They are moving. On the other hand, that an in- transitive can be sometimes made into a transi- tive verb was shown in § 83 ; and Shakespeare furnishes several examples of the transitive use of verbs that are now intransitive, as “ That he might have retired his power ” {Richard II.'). Adjectives, and even nouns, may be turned into verbs : a countrywoman will tell you that “she must fat her ducks,” and the same verb appears in “ kill the fatted calf ” (adjective, /a if, verb, to fat; participle, ; and we know how soldiers ^'fire the villages,” and spike the enemies’ guns.” In Goldsmith’s “decent church that topp’d the neighbouring hill,” the noun top forms a verb. It is a curious reversal of the usual order when occasionally a imonoun is used for a noun. Orlando says : — " “ Carve on every tree The fair, the chaste, the nnexpressive she." As You Like It, Act iii., Sc. 2. Pronouns and adjectives, too, trench upon one another’s domains ; and enough has been said in treating of adverbs, propositions, and con- junctions, to show that careful discrimination is often neetled to determine to which of these classes a word may belong. The word that is often given as an instance of the same word rangirig itself under different parts of speech : “ I know that you are -going to give me that book that I do not like.” The first that is an adverbial conjunction, the second a demonstra- tive adjective, the third a pronoun. Let, then, the principle upon which each word is used be stwlied, and let nothing be taken “by rote.” Those will serve as the safest guides ill the examination of our speech. XIV. Bayer’s Notation. — Newton’s I lESEAECHES. By the middle oE the century an important innovation had been introduced into stellar astronomy. It has been already mentioned that the earlier astronomers were accustomed to indi- cate one particular star by mentioning its place in the constellation — such as by saying it was on the tail of the Great Bear, the horn of Taurus, the heart of Leo, the right shoulder of Aquarius, etc., etc. Bayer, a German astronomer, pub- lished a celestial atlas in which the principal stars were designated by the Greek letters, a denoting the : their brightest star, ^ the second nomenclature, brightest, etc., etc. This was found to be a very considerable advantage, and rapidly came into general use, until by the end of the seventeenth century its use was nearly universal. It was only in England that Ihe older method seemed to linger for some time longer. The letters of the Greek alphabet used by astronomers are as follows, the first being the capital and the other the small letter : — A a = Alpha B /3 = Beta r 7 = Gamma A 5 = Delta E e = Epsilon Z ^ = Zeta H 77 = Eta 0 0 = Theta 1 t = lota K /c = Ka})pa A \ = Lambda M ^ = Mu N V = Nu S ^ = Xi O 0 = Omicron II TT = Pi P p = Rho 23 (T = Sigma T T - Tau T u = Upsilon 0 = Phi X X = Cl«i 'P 0 = Psi D 07 = Omega. Bayer's notation is now in general use, and astronomers talk of a Orionis, ^ Cygni, 7 Arietis, etc., meaning the star a in Orion, ^ in Cygnus, 7 in Aries, etc. During the latter half of the seventeenth century many endeavours were made to account for the peculiarities of the motion of the planets by means of some physical cause. On the Continent the famous theory of ethereal vortices enunciated by Descartes held almost universal sway. In England and amongst some of the northern Continental astronomers an im])rcssion began to gain ground that the solar system was ruled by the force of gravity, gravity being the force by which bodies werc^^®X^°”g®/*^® attracted to the centre of the earth. It is commonly supposed that Sir Isaac Newton was the first to enunciate this 440 TUE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. view ; but this is a mistake, for many of his contemporaries had earlier announced the same opinion. Huygens, in particular, had as early as 1671 established the principal laws which govern the motion of a body in a circular orbit, moving under a force like that of gravity tending to the centre of its orbit. Hooke, Roemer, Wren, and others had also discovered that if the planets moved in circles round the sun, it was possible to account for their motion by assuming Early ideas, them to be moving under the action of a force attracting them to the centre of the sun with an intensity varying inversely as the square of the distance. Newton, in 1665, had already arrived at the same result, but his great genius led him to take a step further. If the planets moved round the sun through the action of gravity, then the moon must move round Nev^n^^early earth through the action of a ours. gravity. Now, astronomers did not know the force of gravity of the sun, and considered them- selves at liberty to ' assume it to be what .^they liked if it only fitted into their hy- potheses ; but they vdid know what was the force of gravity on the earth, and Newton saw it would he easy to find out if the moon did move in the way it ought to move if it were governed by the at- traction of the earth. To do this it was necessaiy for him to know the diameter of the earth ; and he took this to be 6,900 miles, which was the value he supposed to be true, and assumed that the distance of the moon from the earth was thirty times the diameter of the latter. Now, if the moon were really moved by the gravity of the earth, to find out the number of feet by which the force of gravity would move the moon in one second of time it was merely necessary to multiply the distance of the moon in feet by twice the square of the length of the circumference of a circle whose radius is unity divided by the number of seconds it took the moon to revolve round the earth. Performing the calculation, it appeared that the moon should move 0-00382 feet in a second, or this w'as the force of gravity at the distance of the moon. Now multiplying this by the square of the distance of the moon in radii of the earth, or (60)^, it will give the attraction of gravity at the surface of the earth, because as the force of gravity varied inversely as the square of the distance, at the distance of the moon, or sixty times the radius of the earth, it would be diminished to (^V)^ its force at the surface of the earth. Now, 0-00382 X (60)2 = 13^ feet, which is the distance at the surface of the earth that the force of gravity should make a body move in one second of time, if the moon were really moved by gravity. But Ne-wton knew that the real distance w’as 16^^ feet ; there was, therefore, a considerable discre- pancy, which Newton considered C^yaSact. fatal to the theory. It seemed that it was not the gravity of the earth which made the moon revolve round the earth, and it was therefore most unlikely to be the force of gravity which made the planets move round the sun, for Ne-wton saw that both effects must arise from the same cause. In these researches on astronomy, Ne-wton made use of his newly invented method of mathematical analyses, by him termed “the method of fiuxions.” He found it of the greatest assistance to him, and by its aid he was able to solve mathematical problems which could not have been suc- cessfully investigated by any other known method. The , idea of an infinitesimal calculus was already known in a vague form to the mathema- ticians of the seven- teenth centm-y, and had enabled them to make some progress in the more recondite portions of mathema- tics. Newton reduced this vague idea to a general method, based on exactly the same principles as the modern infinitesimal calculus. Appreciat- ing the importance of his discovery, during the subse- quent years Ne-wton devoted has atten- tion from time to time to strengthening his new system Newton’s suc- of analysis, though for years he refused to publish any account ® of his method. In fact, it was mathematics, not until the early part of the following century that Ne-wton published any detailed description of it, though its principles are pointed out in a note to his great work “ The Principiai” In 1673, Leibnitz, a famous German philoso- pher, learnt from Oldenburg, the secretary of the Royal Society of London, that Newton had invented a method for the quadi*ature of curves, or determining their areas. This led him to tui’n his attention to the more recondite branches of mathematics. Before long he invented a method of solving a class of pro- blems depending on finding the maximum or minimum values of algebraical expression by means • of an application of the principles of the infinitesimal calculus. This method he TELESCOPIC APPEAKANCE OP THE MOON. ASTRONOMY. 441 soon developed into the germ of the present differential and integral cal- published calculus. account of his process. Its im- portance was at once appreciated by two great mathematicians, John and James Bernouilli, who, uniting with its inventor Leibnitz, rapidly developed this new method of analyses, and soon brought it to a state of con- siderable perfection. It rapidly spread over the Continent, where it was in general use some years before the publication ef the first account of Newton’s method of fiuxions. t Both Hooke and Halley, not being aware of the fatal discrepancy between the force moving the moon and the gravity at the surface of the earth, energetically persevered in their labours to find out the physical cause of the motion of the planets. They soon saw that it was useless to continue to discuss cases of circular motion, for the planets did not move in circles, but in ellipses ; and if the force which moved the planets was a force like the attraction of gravity, the planets must be attracted, not to the centre of the ellipse, but to a focus, for the sun was situated in the focus, not I the centre, of , the ellipse. ! Suppose the planets were retained in their orbits by the attraction of the sun, what must be the law by which this force of attraction . varied as the distance of the planet so that the planet might move in an ellipse around the sun placed in Force necessary one of the foci ? Halley endea- solve this problem, bnt orbit could not, for his mathematical knowledge was not sufficient. He applied therefore to Wren, who replied that he had tried to solve the problem but could not. He then applied to Hooke, who answered that it required the force to vary as the inverse square of the distance — that is to say, it was the same as in a circular orbit. Halley was delighted, and asked him to show his proof, but this Hooke resolutely refused to do, on the ground that he would wait until others trying had failed, and thus would value his discovery at its .right estimation. In real truth, it would seem 'that Hooke had not obtained a strict proof, CEirsTIAL GLOBE. but established the proposition by general reasoning, regarding the ellipse as the case of a circle projected into an ellipse. This did not satisfy Halley, so he determined to apply to Newton, known to be the best English mathematician ; and in August 1684 he pro* ceeded to Cambridge. In 1679 Newton had received a letter from Hooke in which it was stated that under certain conditions a body moving under the influence of a force varying as the inverse Newton^later square of the distance would move in an ellipse. This attracted Newton’s attention, who regarded it as an interesting mathematical problem, and set to work to determine the law with which the attraction must diminish with the distance to enable a body to move in an ellipse with the attracting body in one of the foci. By his splendid mathematical abilities he was able to establish by a rigid proof that it would be a force varying as the inverse square of the distance — that is to say, a force like gravity. In this, as in his subsequent re- searches, New- ton was able to attack and solve problems by means of the infinitesimal cal- culus which it would have been impossible to solve by the earlier methods of mathematical investigation. Had it not been for his invention of the method of fluxions, a system of apply- ing infinitesimal small quantities to the investigation of mathematical problems, it is probable that the law of gravitation might not have been established for many years. This result struck Newton as most remarkable, for it seemed to point strongly to gravitation as the ruling force of the solar system. But he remembered his earlier investigations which had shown him that the motion of the moon was inconsistent with this hypothesis. He determined, therefore, to re-examine his investi- gation. The theory was perfectly correct. His data, too, seemed right ; the distance and period of the moon w^ere certainly correct, so was the value of the Newton finds force of gravity ; then the value assumed for the diameter ot the of moon, earth seemed right : but wait — had not Picard, the celebrated French astro- 442 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. nomer, lately found a different value for the diameter of the earth ? Newton remembered that Picard had. Further inquiry showed New- ton that he was right, and that Picard, in 1679, l)y a careful measurement of the length of a terrestrial degree of latitude, had found nearly 4000 miles for the radius of the earth instead of .‘5450 miles, the value which had been employed by Newton. Astronomers regarded this new value as very much nearer the truth than the old, which had indeed been long susi)ected to l>e too small. Newton determined to recom- ])ute his result, using Picard's value of 8000 miles for the diameter of the earth. To his uncontrollable joy, the result came out 0-00448 feet for the deflection of the moon in one second of arc, which multiplied by ( 60)2 became 16^ feeb and showed that the moon was retained moving in its orbit round the earth by the action of a force of attraction towards the centre of the earth, of a magnitude which would make a body at the terrestrial surface move 16} feet in one second of time. As the force of gravity at the earth’s surface would move a body of feet in one second, it was evident that this force was identical with the force of gravity, or that the moon was kept in its orbit by the gravitation of the earth. Newton felt overjoyed at this result, and could scarcely control his feelings, for he fully recog- nised the grandeur of his discovery, and appre- ciated the enormous importance of the step he had made, in ascertaining the true cause governing the motion of the members of the solar system. XIY. The Consonants {continued) R is pronounced at the end of a word after any vowel (except e), although another con- sonant may follow r : bronillards, char, cmir, durs,fors, sievr, .umpir, turc. Except monaieur and messiein's, which are read uio-sieu, m'c-sieu. In the termiiiation er the following rules must be observed ; ( 1 ) it is sounded in mono- syllables ; cher, for, mer, %cn', Her (proud — but tier, to trust, is read Jie'), Mer. ( 2 ) It is likewise sounded when a consonant is added to it : clerc, cerf, convert, acqniers. envers, Colhert, tiers, Thiers (but volonfiers = tie). (3) In all poly sy Halt les (excepting verbs) where er is preceded by f, vi. th, v — as enfer, Lucifer, amer, St. Oiner. ether, Luther, hirer, (rulliver ; enfers. amers, hivers, Anvers, envers, Nevers, etc.; cuiller ^ cuilVere (which is another spelling of the word). (4) In the following foreign words, which in the original have like- wise an articulated r : Abner, aster, belveder, calender, cancer, eider, Esther, frater, rjaster, Jupiter, hirscMvasser, Tcrentzer, liber, niagis- ter, Alunster, Niger, noster, pater, g^artner, iwlder, porter, seuiper-virens {simper-virins' , a species of honeysuckle), stathonder, tender {in'),, thaler (th = t) trochanter {ch = ]t), Vesjyer, etc. From the foregoing conclude that all other substantives (and more especially those in cher, ger, ier, and ycr), adjectives, and all verbs of the first conjugation, have a mute r : — boucher bficher rocher trancher Beranger boulanger deranger hoiioger cavalier dernier lier janvier broyer foyer noyer Koyer. The articulated final r, even when it is fol- lowed by the mute consonants as marked in (1), (2), and (3), admits of the connection ; if an s is added on to the word by the inflection of the plural, the r is still sounded, but it is with the s that the connection takes place : un. broaiillard epais {ar^e), des bronillards epais {ar-ze) ; nion cher^enfant, vies chers'^en fonts {cher-zen) ; nn cerf altere {cereal), des cerfs^ alteres {cev-zalt) ; le clerc a conimis un faux {cler^af les clercs ont commis des faux {cler~ zon) ; du velours anglais {our'^an), des velours anglais {lour-zan)] Colbert etait {ber-e) niinistrc des finances; Anvers a {ver'^a) doime naissance a Rubens (the natives say Anverss, as in Bruxelles the })eople call their town Brnhsel) ; AT. Thiers a delivre le territoire {tier'~^a), etc. Verbs in as rons fier^d eux. Adjectives in er and ier are connected only with the noun they quahfy : le gyreniier^ amour, le dernier^ ecu, un leg er^ obstacle; in the plural the r remains mute, the s alone l^ing joined : les dernier.s'^ecus, de legers obstacles. But say ilfut le dernier \ d faire des reproehes, il est leger | d la course ; in the plural join s : Us furent les derniers^d faire des reproehes, les Indiens sent leger s'^d la course. Nouns of which the final r is mute only con- nect the s in the plural, but never the r in the singular : le boucher | a tue un veau, but les bouchei's'^onttue', Bh'anger \ a chantela gUire et les malheurs dc son pmys. § 73. RR in the middle of a w-ord is gene- rally read as one r : carrosse (ca-rosse), rembourre (bou-re), Pyrrlms {py-rus) ; in the following words the two r’s are not exactly read after each other, — they are dwelt on, rendered more emphatic : abhorrer, narrer (and clerivs.), all words beginning with err, irr, and orr — interr'egne, terreur, horreiir (and derivs.), concurrent, etc. Also in the future absolute and conditional present of acquerir, courir and their derivs., to distinguish those tenses from the imperfect indicative : je courrai, I shall run, je courrais, I should run, to be distinguished tvomje courais, I was running. § 74. S. This letter has either the hard sound of s in so, or the soft sound of the English z. It is hard (1), at the beginning of a word or of a root-syllable in the body of a word : sable, sa7id ; ensabler, to run aground. semblable, similar) vraisemblable, jjroSaiZe. seance, sitting) preseance, seigneur, lord) cofeignevx, partner in pou'er. sinus, sinus ; cosinus, cosi7itcs. soc'al, social) antisocial, antisocial. soleil, mn ; ■ tournesol, smi-flower. syllabe, sgllalle ; monosyllabe, and other derivs. style, stgie j peristyle, inside row of columns. FRENCH PRONUNCIATION. 413 This principle is not consistently carried through, for when the iterative particle re and preposition dc are placed before a rcrh begin- ning with 5, it is usual to double the in order to maintain the original hard sound of 8 : dessaisir, dessaisonner, dessalcr, dessangler, dessecher, dessert, dessiccation, etc., rcssac, res- .saisir, ressasser, resscller, resscribler, ressentir, resservir, ressortir, etc. It is interesting to observe that the s is usually not redoubled in verbs possessed of an iterative signification Avhen the word from which they are derived appears in the same phrase. Thus one writes ; 'll a ete salgne et resaigne, il m'a salue et resalve, cet actevr a ete slfde et rcslfHe, etc., but the s is pronounced hard. On tlie contrary, when the words have a recognised place in the voeabulary of the language s is doubled {rcs- scmhler), or is soft {resister, resvmer) ; observe here that if the s is soft the c takes the acute i accent. The pronunciation of the combinations dess and ress requires to be considered : the syllable dess gives the sound d'e, therefore the above examples are all xQ,^^de-saisii\dc-saison- ‘ver, de-saler, de-sangler, etc., except, however, dessous, dessvs, the e of which preserves the slender sound (see § 20). As for the syllable o'ess, the slender sound of e is throughout maintained ; read therefore the above exam })les re-sac, re-saisir, re-sasser, reseller, etc., making an exception but for these two words and their derivatives, ressusciter and ressvyer, which are ])!’. re-sa, re-sui. (Besides the examples nrii- seuihlahle, preseance, coseignevr, cosinvs, anti- .soeiul, tflurvesol, monosyllabe, the other words that one could mention as having the hard s between two vowels, owing to the etymology, are not numerous ; presupposer, desuetude, sovhresaid, asyviqitote, cosecante, parasol, pteiro- silex prosecteur, trisection close up the list, or are all we have been able to find after a careful search.) The s is hard (2) after a nasal sound, or at the end of a syllable when the next syllable begins with a eonsonant : transir, gyciisee, ton- sure, reponse, chanson, ensenihle, esperance, lorsgue, mosqvee, esclave, monstre, etc. Mark, however, that s is soft in Alsace, halsamine, t ransaction, transiger, transit, transition. S is soft when it is plaeed between two vowels, not being then the initial letter of a I’oot- syllable : baser, baiser, bisa'tcvl, risette, oser, vser, etc. The presence of an h would occasion no difference : deshabille = de-:ia, deshonnete = de-zo. ’Remark I. — The s would not be heard at all in com- ])ounds with des, lets, me», »p», if the next vowel began \vith a consonant : deKijitelles — de-qneUen, Deacartes — de-cartes, lesquels =■ Je-quels, Lescailles — le-caiUes, mes- dames — me-dumes, Mesnard — me-nard, etc. In destin, riesqnin, sesterce, des, mes, ses are not one of two coin- ])onents making up the word, hence the s must be heard. Remark II. — The great majority of s’& before c, 1, m, n, q, t, have disappeared and been replaced by acute or circumflex accents placed on the preceding vowel : ill old French ecrire was sp. escrirc, de was S]). isle, weme was sp. viesme, eqiitievfw?, sp. espiiie, eveque wan H}). ceesque, muUre was sp. maistre. Some jirojier names, i-.specially those of persons, have retained this s, which of course is mute, and has a tendency to disappear, 'i’he spelling of the names that have become historical is fixed, the spelling of the names of private individuals is often a matter of caprice, corresponding very much to what is observed in some British names : Smith and Smyth, Simson and Simpson, Johnston and Johnsteme, hi' Donald and Macdonald, etc., Aisne (a river). Bastard, Dumoicstier, Leprestre, Bresle, Testii, etc. General Rule. — At the end of a word 5 is mute, and especially when it is there by inflec- tion : Antibes, bas, deces, hors, jars, legs,'nioins, givifs, repas, etc. ; les freres, mes sceurs, no.^ parents, etc. (The final mute s coming after a and o, as in trepas, repos, gives to them the sound d, 6.) The exceptions are rather numerous : — Among the common nouns sounding the final s are the following, ending (1) in as : as, asclepias (bot.), atlas, habcas-corjms. hypocras, stras, rasistas ; (2) in : Agnes, aloes {hot?), asperges (al. govpillon'), co7-tes, Jlores (pop.), her mes, herm'es (bot.) ; (3) in 'is : Adonis,, amadis, amaryllis (hot.), axis (anat.), bis (twice, but bis. brown, read bi'), cassis (bot.), elephantiasis (med.), in extremis, gratis, ibis (nat. hist.), iris (hot.), lajiis, lychnis (bot.)y (lily, but in heraldry les Jtevrsde Zfsread Z/), metis, myosotis (bot.), myrrhis (bot.), oasis, orchis {orhis, bot.), de pirofandis, rachitis {rachitisme, more usual, med.), d remot-is (aside), thetis,7ingvis (jeadoiiguis, anat.'), vis ; (4) in os : albatros (nat. hist,), albinos (do.), merinos, pathos, o'hinoceros, tetanos (med.) ; (5) in vs : agnvs, angelvs, argvs, bibvs (pop.), hocus, bolus (also bot), calus, canthvs (anat.), cai'us (do,), cholera-morb^is (med.), chorvs, cosinus (math.), cmpvs, croevs (bot.), cvbitvs (anat.), detritvs, foetus (anat.), fo7ig'us (med.), fuevs (bot.), ga7‘vs (med.), hiatvs, Jnwih'vs (anat.), In/mvs (agric.), ileus (med,), inma7ius, 7uodus facieiidi (fa-si-in-di) 7notus (pop,), in. vat7iral%b7is, negus (Abyssinian chief), noidius (med.), 7io7iius (better 7ionn ius. mathem.), obus (say obuze), olibrivs (pop,), omriibus, orenius, palus, p)apy7'us, in gmrtihus wjidelhnn, phebvs, prospectus, q7iibus (pop. corresponding to de quoi — il a du quibus or il a de quoi, he has money), qvittis (finance), radius, relms, rhus (al. S7mac, bot.), senatiis-cojisvlte, sinus (ma- them.), .si7'i7is (ast.), stimilvs (med.), thrombus (do.), trochvs (nat. hist,), t7(mulus (antiq.), typhus, 717-anus (ast.), ve7nis, virus (med.), zetus (ast.). For q^diisis, 7is, vindas, the Aca- demic's dictionary sounds the s ; 31. Littre pronounces 7i, vi7ida. These also sound the final s : eens, mars, vums (a term of con- tempt, from 7uonsievr, a term of respect), sens. The above list is fairly comiilete ; it will bc- seen that it contains none but words derived from Greek and Latin, which have undergone hardly any modification ; they are easily recog- nised. It is an evident principle that those words which have been thoroughly naturalised, or arc in daily use, have a tendency to make the s mute, which is in perfect keeping with the law of evolution in the French language. Over certain words grammarians are not all agreed, but it is erring on the safe side, erring in the company of M. Littre, and with the tacit assent of the Academic, to leave the .S' inarticulatcd in Uie following words: chas (shd, but 7in chas ctroit pron.zc) ; fils (fi, but m on fils aine pron. ze) ; gens (j an, hwt des gens ahnvbles pron. ze) ; helas,7nats, moew'S, os, 07irs, raribus, en sus, tons. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. XIV- The Tudoe Period in England. Henry VIII. {cdnthiued'). TaE next years after the peace of loll saw the elevation of Charles V. to the power he wielded with such deep policy and astuteness. The death of Ferdinand the Catholic put him in possession of Spain and the 'Position of Netherlands ; the death of Maxi- Henry Vin. be- milian made him master of the ^^dFralSs^ Austrian inheritance ; and the votes of the electors conferred upon him the imperial crown of Germany ; magnificent meeting of the “ Field of the Cloth of Gold” — that last expiring effort of chivalry, where the weapons and the chal- lenges, the combats and the cere- monies, were those of bygone ^o. times ; but Charles contrived to ’ come to Dover before the King started for France, and by promises, professions of friend- ship, and offers of service, to gain over Henry and his minister to his interests. Henry returned the Emperor’s visit at Gravelines, after the gorgeous festivities on the plain between Guisnes and Ardi’es bad come to an end ; and here, and at Calais, whither Charles escorted Henry, the wily Emperor rontnved to undo what Francis had taken so muen pains to effect, and even to engage England in an alliance against France. Wolsey had already received a commission from Leo X. as papal legate His possessions were now further increase and here commences the long contest between the Emperor and Francis, which occupied the greater part of the next thirty years. The rivalry between the two monarchs conduced greatly to the advancement of Wolsey, whose good-will was rightly considered the nearest way to his master’s favour. Both Charles and Francis accordingly flattered the great minister. Francis in his letters called Wolsey “father, tutor, governor.” Charles, with a true insight into the Cardinal’s character, inspired that ambitious man \rith hopes of attaining the papacy through his influence and intervention. With profound policy he managed to counteract all the efforts of the French king to secure the frendship of Henry, whose true interest mani- festly lay in preventing the power of Spain and Austria from becoming overwhelming^ in Europe. Francis showed a just appreciation of Hemy’s character when he planned the Y the revenues of the sees of Placentia and adajoz, bestowed upon him by Charles. He as almost, if not quite, as rich as his master, ad affected the pomp and state of a sovereign rince. He expressed great offence when /■arham, the Archbishop of Canterbury, signed imself “your loving brother.” Well might i^arham exclaim with a smile, when this was sported to him, “ Know ye not that this man 5 drunk with too much prosperity ? ” The execution of Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, which took place soon after the Teld of the Cloth of Gold, brought _ , . , , reat odium upon “ the butcher’s ® on,” as the indignant crowd at hat unjust spectacle clamorously ailed Wolsey. The fate of the Duke’s imme- iate ancestors affords a striking picture of the imes in which they lived, when every part of he kingdom heard “the din of battle fray, HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 445 lance to lance, and horse to horse.” He was directly descended from Edward III., through that king’s youngest son, Thomas of Wood- stock, Duke of Gloucester. He was the fifth of his house, in succession, who died a violent death. For more than a century not one chief of the Staffords had died in his bed. Edmund, Earl of Stafford, the son-in-law of Thomas of Woodstock, perished at the battle of Shrews- bury. His son was slain at Northampton, his grandson at the battle of St. Albans. The next Stafford, Henry, Duke of Buckingham, was beheaded at Salisbury by order of llichard HI. ; and the Duke himself perished on Tower Hill, condemned for high treason on the testimony of Knivett, a discarded servant ; though no overt act was even alleged against him. England into his hands. Then it was that Wolsey founded the two colleges, “those twins of learning,” as Shakespeare calls them, at Ipswich and Oxford ; for, to quote the same authority, “ though unsatisfied in getting — ■ which was a sin — yet in bestowing he was most princely.” The sacking of Rome by the Imperialists under the Constable de Bourbon, and the imprisonment of the Pope, further alienated the churchman Wolsey, and conse- quently England, from a monarch whose army had triumphed by sacrilege. A few days before this event a treaty had been made with France, by which Henry, who had long since dissipated his father’s treasures, and was often in want of money, was to receive a million eight hundred thousand crowns, while a present of a hundred ST. ALBAX’S ABBET. The friendship between Charles Y. and Henry was not of long duration. Cautious and wary as the Emperor generally was, the magnitude of his triumph over Francis in 1620 seems, for a time, to have warmed his cold heart into exultation. He wrote to Henry by the hand of a secretary curtly subscribing himself Charles. Wolsey had already learned to estimate the value of the Emperor's professions of ser- vice; for in 1521, and again in 1523, the holy see had become v.acant, and each time another candidate had been elected to fill the chair of St. Peter, When, in the latter year, Giulio de Medici became pope, as Clement VII., Wolsey ’s vexation and disap. pointment were extreme. Clement, however, propitiated him by making him legate for life, and thus putting the ecclesiastical affairs of thousand crovms was made to Wolsey, dis- guised under the form of arrears due on the revenues of the bishopric of Ton may. At this time, and indeed frequently during his reign, Henry replenished his coffers by exactions from his subjects, generally disguised under the pretence of loans. The Commons House of Parliament, which had long held the right of taxation, contrived in general so far to maintain its authority, that the arbitrary king maintained the appearance of trusting to the loyalty and affection of his subjects, who were to testify their attachment by the “benevolences” or sums paid as tokens of goodwill. Sometimes, however, his savage temper Vn’oke out against a refractory mem- ber. “ Ho, man ! will they not suffer my bill to pass ? ” cried the royal tyrant, laying 446 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR his hand ominously on the head of Montague, a member, ^vho, summoned into bis presence, was kneeling before him. “ Get my bill passed by to-morrow, or else to-morrow this head of yours shall be otf.” The bill was passed next day. But sometimes both the Commons and the country showed signs of a less complying temper, and then the King always had the prudence to comi^romise matters. “We cannot doubt,” says Hallam, “that the unshackled condition of his friend, though rival, Francis I., offered a mortifying contrast to Henry. Even under his tyrannical administration there was enough to distinguish the king of a people who submitted in murmur- ing to violations of their known rights, from one whose subjects had almost forgotten that they ever possessed any.” Most important to England, as involving the separation of the Church from Rome, and thus paving the way for the Reformation in the country, were the events connected with the King’s divorce from Catherine of The divorce of Arragon. It was in 1527 that the Catherine of King tirst moved in this matter. Arragon, His fierce heart had been capti- 1529-1533. vated by the charms of Anne, daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, and closely connected with the Norfolk family. Heni y felt, or affected to feel, scruples of con- science with regard to his marriage, as Cathe- rine had been the wife of his elder brother ; and accordingly applied to the Pope for a divorce. Clement was a man of timid dispo- sition, and feared to excite the anger of Henry by refusal, or that of the Emperor Charles by compliance. Accordingly he temporised, and sent Cardinal Campeggio to England to try the cause in conjunction with Wolsey. That haughty favourite, who had “ sailed for many summers in a sea of glory,” now encountered the rock on which he was to split. He affected to promote the King’s wishes, though at first he had earnestly dissuaded him from applying for the divorce. He even made Anne believe he was her friend in the matter, though he was bitterly opposed to the thought of the King’s marrying a person addicted, it was supposed, to Lutheranism ; but in secret he seconded the efforts of Campeggio to delay the decision. Thus the legatine court, whose authority the queen utterly denied, was adjourned, after sitting for some weeks, without effecting anything ; and when by order of Clement it was trans- feiTed to Rome, the jealous, suspicions of the King were thoroughly aroused by “ this dilatory sloth, these tricks of Rome,” and the weight of his anger fell at once upon Wolsey. Fall of Wolsey; Within a few weeks the once all- lus death, 1530. p , t , , • i p powerful cardinal was stripped of his wealth, his preferments, his liberty. His great palace of York Place was forfeited to the King; the great seal wa,sjcntrusted to Sir Thomas More. He was charged with receiving papal bulls contrary to law; and a writ of preemunire %vas sued out against him, declaring all his goods forfeited to the law and himself subject to imprisonment during the King’s pleasure. Henry appears more than once to have softened towards his old favourite. A free pardon was granted to AVolsey in February 1530 ; and the Cardinal, restored to his sees of Winchester and York, went to reside in his diocese of York, where, in the course of a few months, he gained great esteem by his conduct. But Henry’s enmity revived. In November of the same year Wolsey, arrested on a charge of high trea- son, set out as a prisoner for London. That doleful journey was never completed. Wolsey, now in his sixtieth year, and a severe sufferer from dropsy, could only travel by short stages. At iShelheld Park he was detained for a fortnight by a violent fit of illness ; at the convent of Leicester he informed the abbot : “ I am come to lay my bones among you.” It was to Kyng- ston, the Lieutenant of the Tower, who was present in his sick chamber, that he addressed those dying words, so eloquent in their forlorn simplicity, that have clung for centuries as a re- proach to the memory of his tyrannical master : “ And, IMaster Kyngston, had I but served God as diligently as I have served the king. He would not have given me over in my grey hairs. But this is my just reward for my pains and study, not regarding my service to God, but only my duty to my prince.” The next day, the 30th of November, he died. The question regarding the divorce was still unsettled. On the one hand Henry, though actively engaged in depressing the power of the clergy in England, was unwilling to break entirely with the Poi)e ; on the other his determination to m.arry Anne Boleyn was only increased by Cramers difficulty and delay. Wolsey had rightly said of him, “ Rather than miss any part of his will, he will endanger one-half of his kingdom.” Dr. Thomas Cranmer, of Jesus College, Cambridge, suggested that the King should collect the opinions of the various uni - versifies concerning the divorce. Henry de- clared with strong approval that Cranmer had “ got the right sow by the ear,” and eagerly pro- ceeded to act on the suggestion. Further oppo- sition now only served to harden his stubborn .soul. He determined to deny all obedience to Rome, and tried to induce King Francis, with whom he was now at peace, to do likewise. He created Anne Boleyn Marchioness of Pem- broke ; and, in January 1533. took a decisive step in the matter by privately marrying her. Soon after the marriage was publicly acknowledged : on the strength of the opinions of some foreign universities, and of those of the Convocations of York and Canterbury, Cranmer pronounced a sentence of divorce of the King from Catherine of Arragon. That unfortunate queen, now degraded to the position of Princess Dowager of Wales, continued till her death, in 1546, to protest against these proceedings, and to de- clare herself the lawful wife of Henry. A bull of excommunication issued by the Pope against the King and Anne Boleyn strengthened Henry in his project of making himself independent of Rome. Henry and Anne Already he had procured from Boleyn excom- the parliament A'arious statutes municated. to circumscribe the power of the clergy and their great head — such as the statute against non-resii!ence and pluralities (152‘J), GERMAN. 447 the act depriving the Pope of the annates, or first year’s rent of bishoprics that fell vacant. Henry had also induced the clergy, with certain reservations, to accord him the title “ The Pro- tector and only Supreme Head of the Church and Clergy of England.” One act after another now bore witness to Henry’s determi- nation to set the papal authority at defiance. By the Act of Succession of 1534, the infant princess Mary, the daughter of the King and Catherine of Arragon, was excluded from the throne, which was secured to the Princess Elizabeth, and to Anne’s children Arbitrary generally. Kefusal to acknow- l^nry VIII. this Settlement was pun- ished as misprision of treason. Appeals to Rome in ecclesiastical cases were forbidden. In sermons publicly preached at Paul’s Cross, in London, the Pope was declared to have no jurisdiction in England, and no more power than another foreign bishop. The payment of Peter’s pence was forbidden, as was also the investiture of bishops by the Pope ; and at last the Act of Supremacy established the King of England as head and ruler of the English Church. XV. Study for Reading and Pronunciation. ©er trcue 3?eiterP dare troy' -c ry'-terr THE FAITHFUL TROOPER. ^en funften itnb fcdiflen danc fuenf-ten vnt zex'-ten yoo'-lee Tlie fifth and sixth July cic^tjcl;n I)imbert unb neun tieferten^ bie eiclit' -min hand' -errt 'unt noiti lee-fer-ten dee eighteen hundred and nine gav’^e the Defterreid)er ben ^ranjofen cine oes' -ter-ry-cJierr done fran' -tso-zen i'-ne gross' -e Austrians to the Freneh a great ©d)lad)t mar bei bent 3^orfe SBagram, shlaeht css tar hy dame dorr'-fe vah'-yram battle : it was near the village (of)Wagi’am, nictt meit bon ber -^aiferflabt^ Sien. niclit rite fan dare hy' -zer-statt rcen. not far from the imperial city Vienna. T)a tagen mel;r tobte unb bermunbete dah la! -yen viair toa'-te nnt fer-viai' -dete There lay more dead and wounded 0olbaten-^ auf ben SIderfetbern jur zoll-dah' -ten oirf da ne ack' -er-fel-dcrn als tsoor soldiers on the cornfields than at the (Ernteseit ©arben. Unter ben bielen airn'-te-tsite yard -hen no! -ter dane fee'-len harvest-time sheaves Among the many 3:aufeuben mar ducb ber 2)?aj[or® bon tow'-zen-den var oiveh dare mah-yore' fan thousands was also the Major von Solf, em Dffitsier bon ber 3f?eiterei. volff ine of-feet-seer fon dare ry'-te-rye' Wolf, an officer of the cavalry. ©rfi ant jmeiten 3:age ermad;te er airrst am tsvi'-ten tald-ye er-iracE -te airr Only on the second day awoke he aud feiner Dbnihdcbt/ benn cr owss zy'-ner own' -macht denii airr haf-te out of his faint for he had febmere SSunben erbatten* ©t? mar 5)?ittag, shvair'-e tun' -den er'-halt-en ess vahr init'-tack heavy wounds received. It was noon, unb bie ©onne fi^ien febr dx nnt dee zon'-ne sheen zair liyss airr and the sun shone very hot. He te^jte® bor S)urfl unb ffebte urn eine lechts'-te fore doorst unt jiay'-te um i'-ne languished for thirst and implored for a bobie |)anb SBaffer. n^exx ber ©d;tad)ten/' ho'-le hand vas-ser Jiairr dare shlach' -ten hollow hand of water “ Lord of the battles,” betete er taut, „fonnte icb niebt flerben ! hay'-tete airr lowt kmin'-te ich niclit stair' -hen prayed he loud, “ could I not die ! ntufi icb bict berfebmaebten!"® ‘I)a erbeb mass ich liearr ferr-shmach' -ten da er-hoah' must I here perish ! ” There lifted fteb and ben ?eicben ein bdrtige^ sick owss dane ly'-chen ine hairr'-ti-yrss itself out of the corpses a bearded |)aubt;‘"e^ tbar ber treue 3ieiter 35eit; howjjt ess var dare troi'-e ry'-terr rite head : it was the faithful trooper Veit. Qx feu^te: „(5ine ?acbe" ifl ganj in ber airr hoieW -te i'-ne la' -che isst yants in dare he gasped: “A pond is quite in the 9?dbe; icb merbe mcbl neef) nay'-e ich rairr'-de role nock neighbourhood ; I shall well yet binfommen.,, :Dem Icin' -honi -men dame arinen 2?eit baffe arr'-men rite hat' -te thither come.” To the poor Veit had eine -^anonenfugef ben megger z -ne ha-no -nen-hoo-gel dane fooss rech-ye- a cannon-ball the foot away febtagen, unb fo frocb er auf ben •^dnben slda-yen unt zo hrocli airr onf dane hen! -den struck, and so crept he on the (his) liands gu ber I'acbe, fam boH'- ©faub unb ^fut tsQO dare la' -che halini foil stomp unt hloot to the pond, came full (of) dust and blood jurucf unb braeffie in feinem ^)elnte tsoo'-rucli unt hrach'-te in zy'-neni hcl'-me back and brought in his helmet bent 21?ajor ben ?abetrunf. ©cbnetl dame mah-yore' dane lah'-he-trnnk shnell to the major the refreshing drink. Quickly reifit ibm ber faff berfebmaebtete rysste eem dare fasst fer-shmach' -te-te tears him the almost exhausted Dffi.per ben ^etm au^ ber >^anb unb offi-tseer' dane helm owss dare hant unt officer the helmet out of the hand and trinft, bergift aber feinen treuen trinht fer-yi,sst' ah' -her zy'-nen t>-oy'-en drink, forgets however his f.ailhful 448 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. 3iciter unb fagt: „2)a, nimm unb ry'-tcr nicht unt zaJigt dah nimm vnt trooper not, and says, “ There, take and trinf’ auc^!'' ber Shelter at^met t7'ink 07vch dock dare ry'-ter ahf-'met drink also.” But the trooper breathes fc^wer unb rbe^ett** unb fc^weigt 3'ibcb shrare unt roecli'-elt vnt fhiygt nocli heavily and gasps, and is silent. Yet cinmat fagt ber 5!}?aior: „35eit, trinfe ine'-mal mgt dare mah-yora' rite trinkc once says the major “ Veit, drink bu au^I" Ser beburfte'^ e^ ni^t mebr* doo o/vch dare 'be-dooif-te ess nicht mairr thou also.” He required it not more: fein v^aupt fanf inieber ju S5oben, er zyne hoivpt zanU ree'-der tsoo hoh'-den ah'v his head sank again to the ground, he U'ar tobt. S'iut @ott fonnte i()nt bie xar toat nur gott honn'-te eem dee Avas dead. Only God could to him the 3?ettung feince^ 3}?vijors^ bergelten.'“ ret'-tung zy'-nes mah-yorcs' ferr-geV -ten preservation of his major reward. REMAEKS oy THE EOREGOING STUDY. * Der Jteiter, originally the rider, afterwards applied dare ry'-terr to military affairs ; die Meiterei, the cavalry. From dee ry'-te-ry the word Ueiter came Ritter, a knight; as the French rit'-terr le chevalier, the knight, came from le cheval. - Lieferten, from inf. lieferii, imperf. ich Ueferte, past lee'-feiT-ten lee-ferrn ich lee-ferr-te part. geUefert, to deliver, ge-lee'-ferrt ^ Die Sehlackt, the battle, from the verb schJagen shlah'-genn (imperf. Ich schlug, past part. gescMagen), to strike, from ich shlooch gc-shlah'-gen which we have the English, to slay (I slew, slain). In the modern German to slay is todt schlagen, to strike dead. ■* Die Kaiserstadt, from der Kaiser, the emperor die ky'-zer-statt (Caesar) ; and die Stadf, the town. Soldaten, from dr Soldat, the soldier. This word zoll-dah'-ten dare zoll'-daht comes from Sold, “pay,” and means -a man who is zolld hired to fight. Schiller makes the great leader Wallenstein say: VndseinSeld lausz dem Soldaten unt zine zolld musz dame zol-dah'-ten werden, danach heisst er, “ And his pay must to vairr'-den, dah'-nach hysst airr the soldier be (given), therefrom is he named.” ® Deo' Major : names denoting mihtary rank and dai’e mah-yore' military arrangements and discipline are, in German, as in English (battalion, cavalry, colonel, parade) frequently taken from the French. Such words are accented, as in French, on the last syllable {Offlzier). of-fee-tseerr' Major literally means the elder, the senior among the captains. Die Ohnmacht, faint, or the fainting fit; from ohne, dee own'-macht own'-e without, and die Macht, the might or power — the state in which a person is powerless. ® Lechzen (imperf. Ich lechzte, past part, gelechtzf) is lochts'-en ich lechts'-te ge-lechtst applied only to the idea of thirst. Ich lechze is often “ I thirst.” ' verschmachten, like lechzcn, means to languish, but ferr-schmach'-ten in a more general sense. The prefix ver has here the meaning, away, — to languish away, or to perish. ‘'‘Das Ilanjit and der Xojj/' both mean the head; dass howpt dare koppf but dUis Haiipt is the graver term of the two. It is thus always used for “head” in the German Bible, and also in compound words, as — Die Ilavptsache, the chief thing. dee howpt'-sach-e " Die Lache, a pond or surface of water; hence the dee la'-che word “lake.” ** Voll includes the idea expressed in English by “of”: voll Wunden, voll Weisheit, voll Zorn, full of foil vund'-en foil vice'-hite foil tsom wounds, full o/^ wisdom, full o/ anger. der ‘berschmachtete Offizier. Here agairt dare ferr'-shmach'-te-te of-fee-tseerr' verschmachtet means laoguishing away, almost dead. “ Das Rocheln literally means the rattle in the throat dass roech'-eln that precedes death. Ghland, the German poet, says : Wie ein letztes Rbcheln in leere Luft verhaucht vee ine lets-tes roech'-eln in lair'-re luft ferr-howcht' “ Like a last death-rattle in empty air breathed out.” Bediirfte is the imperfect tense of bediirfen, to be-doorf'-te be-duerf'-en require. It is often used with the genitive case— Ich hedurfte dessen nicht, I required not (oO that, ich be-doorf'-te des-sen nicht The verb gelten, in German, means literally to gelt'-en have value : thus, vergelhen is to give or return the value, and die Vergeltuny is often used for retribution. XIIT. The Staff Notation.— Transition. We have already, in Chapter VII., explained the musieal fact of transition, or change of key. We have shown how beautifully it alters the ‘‘colour” of the transition, sounds with which the ear is being filled. We have explained that it is one of the commonest musical effects, hardly any piece, even a hymn- tune or a popular song, being without this pleasing and natural device. There will be no need to explain over again to the student who has mastered the fact of transition, what is the natural sequence of keys : how a Fe denotes the sharp or dominant key, to the right of the modulator ; and how a Ta denotes the flat or suhdominant key, to the left of the modulator. When, in the course of a piece of music, the key is thus changed, the usual plan in the staff notation is to keep the old signa- ture, and alter the new notes one , Change of by one as they occur. This is ac- Notetion. complished by the help of sharps and flats, and a sign called a “ natural ” ( ), which destroys the action of a previous sharp or flat, and restores the note to its place in the key of the signature. The mode of using “ ac- cidentals,” as they are called, wiU be seen from the subjoined : — In the first case the raising of Fah into Fe is effected by a sharp, the note on which it occurs (D) being “ natural ” in the key, and therefore capable of having a sharp or a flat applied to it. In the second case our Fe comes upon the MUSIC. 449 note A, which has already been flattened by the signature, and needs therefore only to have the action of the flat suspended by a natural. In the third case the Ta is expressed by a flat, as A, the note on which it occurs, is natural in the signature. But in the fourth case C, the line on which Ta stands, is already sharpened in the signature, and we must therefore restore it by a natural, not a flat. A natural, therefore, raises a note which has been flattened by the sig- nature, and lowers one which has been sharpened. An accidental sharp, flat, or natural holds A -j * 1 good for the whole of the mea- Accidentals. contradicted, however often the note it affects KEY D. {l “1 s :f 1 “1 “1 fe :s 1 KEY C. i ( 1 s r :f 1 m :- 1 fe :s 1 s :s 1 may occur. It also holds good for any octave of the note. An accidental does not hold good for the next measure unless it is repeated, except that if an accidental is placed against the last note of a measure, it is sometimes understood to be continued, especially if the note is tied across the bar. Sometimes, especially if the key changes with a change of time and movement, the whole signature will be changed. But the general custom is not to , change the signature till the end ° of the movement. Translate into the staff notation, treble clef, a minim to a pulse, the following exercise : — f :m ! 1 I ta 1 1 s :f I m d‘ I s ;ta I 1 t I d';r> I d‘ :t 1 d‘ The student must carefully distinguish between accidentals that are of real effect, and those which are merely put in as a caution to the singer or player. Thus, in the following chant, the only accidentals strictly required by rule are two : — Dk. Crotch. 1