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in the conduct of the expedition, it was attended with complete success: the island was added to our colonial sway, and Raffles was immediately named " LieutenantGovernor of Java and its Dependencies*."

volence, visited Holland, for the purpose of making representations to the Dutch king and his ministry, respecting the general welfare and administration of the Isle of Java. He received promises which were never fulfilled: ere much time had gone by Java was once more the scene of misrule, though it is hoped that the seeds of good, sown by the English governor, will never be entirely eradicated.

In another paper we shall follow Sir Thomas to Sumatra, and take a survey of the remaining part of his valuable and useful life.

About this time his friend Leyden died, whose aid he had looked forward to with great delight, in the government of the island of Java. But he had no time to indulge in vain regrets. The Dutch had brought Java, before it fell into the hands of the English, to a miserable condition. The new ruler at once set about the organization of his government, keeping always in view, as the chief object of his labours, the happiness of the people over whom he was placed. With skill and judgment he corrected many of the errors which had crept into the departments of commerce, revenue, and judicature; he instituted statistical inquiries and surveys; he sent residents to every native court, and established benevolent societies and schools in various quarters: he likewise held out encouragements for the prosecution of every-QUARLES. branch of industry and learning. His endeavours to abolish the scourge of slavery were not the least part of his exertions for the good of Java.

Attached and obedient to him as the islanders in general became, Mr. Raffles had great difficulties to encounter. Insurrections were raised; but by active measures tranquillity was restored, and the disturbers of it punished. Governor Raffles was equally energetic in war as in peace; and such occurrences only tended to exhibit more fully his activity and talents, and always ended in the substitution of a better state of things where discord had formerly prevailed. The condition of the revenue alone sufficed to show the island's prosperity under Raffles: from four millions of rupees it had increased to thirty millions, within a few years.

When Holland again became independent. the restoration of the Dutch dependencies in the East took place, and among the rest of Java. Lord Minto, who had foreseen this event, had wished to appoint Mr. Raffles to the residency of Bencoolen: but the failing health of the latter caused him to wish to visit England. On the arrival therefore of the Dutch in Java, he took his passage in a vessel bound for Britain. But he was not permitted to leave the island without experiencing such marks of gratitude as were due to one who had introduced peace and prosperity into a land of misgovernment and oppression. A magnificent service of plate was presented to him by the native and European residents at Batavia, which was the seat of government; and on the morning of his embarkation the water was covered with boats, filled with people of various nations, all anxious to pay the last tribute of respect in their power to one for whom they entertained the most lively affection. We are told that, on reaching the vessel, he found the decks covered with offerings of every description-fruits, flowers, poultry,—whatever was thought likely to promote his health and comfort on the voyage.


Be not too slow in the breaking of a sinful custom; a quick, in such a combat, he is the bravest soldier, that lays about courageous resolution is better than a gradual deliberation: him without fear or wit. Wit pleads; fear disheartens; he that would kill Hydra, had better strike off one neck than five heads: fell the tree, and the branches are soon cut off.

THE father of that eminent lawyer, Serjeant Glanvil, had a fair estate, which he intended to settle on the latter's elder brother; but he, being a vicious young man, and there appearing no hopes of his recovery, he settled it upon him, that was his second son. Upon his death, his eldest son, finding that what he had before looked on as the threatenings of an and that, by degrees, wrought so great a change on him, angry father, was now but too certain, became melancholy; that what his father could not prevail in while he lived was now effected by the severity of his last will; so that it was now too late for him to change in hopes of an estate that was gone from him. But his brother, observing the reality of the change, resolved within himself what to do: so he called him, together with many of his friends, to a feast; and, after other dishes had been served up to the dinner, he ordered one that was covered to be set before his brother, and desired him to uncover it; which he doing, the company was surprised to find it full of writings. So he told them, that he was now to do what he was sure his father would have done, if he had lived to see that happy change which they now all saw in his brother: and, therefore, he freely restored to him the whole estate.-BURNET's Life of Sir Matthew Hale.


THERE is, however, no feature in the scenery of this coast
that strikes the European observer as more novel and lovely
than the verdant islets, or motus, which strew the ex-
panse of smooth sea between the barrier reef and the main
land. They are composed entirely of coral; are raised
scarcely three feet above the level of the surrounding water;
and appear to be peculiar to the barrier reef. They are most
the shoals which constitute the lateral
usually based upon
boundaries of the reef apertures. It is probable that they
are formed from mature coral shoals, which, after they had
been raised to the surface of the sea, had caused the water to
recede from their centre by the increase and elevation of
their circumference; the near approach to a circular form
they invariably present. being in favour of this supposition.

Mr. Raffles landed safely in England, where his tem-
A motu may occasionally be seen in an incipient state, a
porary stay was marked by three important events.
shoal with little depth of water, projecting but a few super-
engaged himself in marriage with Miss Sophia Hull, a
ficial feet of its centre above the sea, rocky, and covered with
two or three stunted bushes struggling for existence, afford-
lady of the most amiable character, who lived to lamenting a structure intermediate to an inundated shoal and a
his death, and to record his deeds. He likewise pub- complete islet. The more extensive and ornamental motus
Eshed his History of Java, which we shall have occasion possess some rich vegetable mould, covered with brushwood,
bereafter to refer to, a work which enlightened Britain or with cocoa-nut and other litoral trees. They are desti-
on a subject of great interest, and on which we had been tute of fresh water, and none of them are inhabited, excepting
previously in a state of comparative ignorance. He also by occasional visiters from the main land, who repair hither
received the honour of knighthood from the hands of for the benefit of the purer sea air when suffering from
sickness.-BENNETT'S Whaling Voyage.
the Prince Regent, as a mark of the esteem in which his
services were held by the nation.

Before he set out for Bencoolen, in Sumatra, of which the Court of Directors had named him "LieutenantGovernor," thus confirming Lord Minto's provisional appointment, Sir Thomas, merely from motives of bene

We may here state our intention of presenting the reader with a short series of articles on JAVA AND THE JAVANESE, to which the present Memoir of Sir Stamford Raffles affords an appropriate introduction.

MANY unhappy persons seem to imagine that they are always in an amphitheatre, with the assembled world as spectators; whereas, all the while, they are playing to empty benches. They fancy, too, that they form the particular theme of every passer-by. If, however, they must listen to imaginary conversations about themselves, they might, at any rate, defy the proverb, and insist upon hearing themselves well spoken of,-ANON.

MAY 14,


Ir is a most notorious thing, both to reason and in experience, what extreme advantage great persons have, especially by the influence of their practice, to bring God himself, as it were, into credit: how much it is in their power easily to render piety a thing in fashion and request. For in what they do, they never are alone, or are ill attended; whither they go, they carry the world along with them: they lead crowds of people after them, as well when they go in the right way, as when they run astray. The custom of living well, no less than other modes and garbs, will be soon conveyed and propagated from the court; the city and country will readily draw good manners thence, (good manners truly so called, not only superficial forms of civility, but real practices of goodness,) for the main body of men goeth not according to rules and reasons, but after examples and authorities, especially of great persons, who are like stars, shining in high and conspicuous places, by which men steer their course: their actions are to be reckoned not as single or solitary ones, but are, like their persons, of a public and representative nature, involving the practice of others, who are by them awed or shamed into compliance. Their good example especially hath this advantage, that men can find no excuse, can have no pretence why they should not follow it. Piety is not only beautified, but fortified by their dignity; it not only shines in them with a clearer lustre, but with a mightier force and influence: a word, a look, the least intimation from them will do more good, than others' best eloquence, clearest reason, most earnest endeavours. For it is in them, if they would apply themselves to it, as the wisest prince implies, to scatter iniquity with their eyes. A smile of theirs were able to enliven virtue, and diffuse it all about; a frown might suffice to mortify and dissipate wickedness. Such apparently is their power of honouring God, and in proportion thereto surely great is their obligation to do it: of them peculiarly God expects it, and all equity exacts it. What the meaner rank of servants do is of some consequence indeed, but doth not import so much to the master's reputation. Their good word concerning him, their good carriage toward him doth not credit him so much. But those whom he employs in matters of highest trust and importance to his affairs, whom he places in the nearest degree to himself, (seats even in his own throne, upon his own tribunal,) whom he feeds plentifully and daintily, maintains in a handsome garb, allows largely, as their department doth much reflect on their lord's esteem, as they are highly capable of advancing his repute; so all the rules of ingenuity and gratitude, all the laws of justice and equity do oblige them earnestly to endeavour it. And it is indeed no less their concernment to do so. For if there be disorders, prejudicial to the master's honour and interest, frequently committed in the family, it is those servants must be responsible: if due order be there kept to his glory and advantage, they shall chiefly be commended, and peculiarly bear the Euge, bone serve! They must be loaded with other men's faults, or crowned for other men's virtues, as their behaviour hath respectively contributed to them. Those universal rules of equity proposed in the Gospel, will, in God's reckoning with and requiting men, be punctually observed; to whomsoever much is given, of him much shall be required: answerable to the improvement of what is delivered in trust shall the acceptance be.


BODY and mind must be exercised, not one, but both, and that in a mediocrity; otherwise it will cause a great inconvenience. If the body be overtired, it tires the mind. The mind oppresseth the body, as with students it oftentimes falls out, who, as Plutarch observes, have no care of the body, but compel that which is mortal to do as much as that which is immortal; that which is earthly as that which is ethereal. But as the ox, tired, told the camel, both serving one master, that refused to carry some part of his burden, before it were long, he should be compelled to carry all his pack, and his skin to boot, which by and by, the ox being dead, fell out, so the body may say to the soul that will give it no respite or remission. A little after, an ague, vertigo, or consumption seizeth on them both; all his study is omitted, and they must be compelled to be sick together. He that tenders his own good estate and health, must let them draw equal yoke both alike, that so they may happily enjoy their wished health.-BURTON,

COOL shades and dews are round my way,
And silence of the early day;

'Mid the dark rocks that watch his bed,
Glitters the mighty Hudson spread,
Unrippled, save by drops that fall

From shrubs that fringe his mountain wall;
And o'er the clear still water swells
The music of the Sabbath bells.

All, save this little nook of land
Circled with trees, on which I stand;'
All, save that line of hills which lie
Suspended in the mimic sky--
Seems a blue void, above, below,
Through which the white clouds come and go;
And from the green world's farthest steep
I gaze into the airy deep.

Loveliest of lovely things are they,
On earth, that soonest pass away;
The rose that lives its little hour,
Is grized beyond the sculptured flower.
Even love, long tried and cherished long,
Becomes more tender and more strong
At thought of that insatiate grave,
From which its yearnings cannot save.
River! in this still hour thou hast
Too much of heaven on earth to last;
Nor long may thy still waters lie,
An image of the glorious sky.
Thy fate and mine are not repose,
And ere another evening close,

Thou to thy tides shalt turn again,

And I to seek the crowd of men.--BRYANT.

In England there is a kind of science of good householdmanagement, which, if it consisted merely in keeping the house respectable in its physical character, might be left to the effectual working out of hired hands; but, happily for the women of England, there is a philosophy in this science, by which all their highest and best feelings are called into exercise. Not only must the house be neat and clean, but it must be so ordered as to suit the tastes of all, as far as may be, without annoyance or offence to any. Not only must a constant system of activity be established, but peace must be preserved, or happiness will be destroyed. Not only must elegance be called in, to adorn and beautify the whole, but strict integrity must be maintained by the minutest calculation as to lawful means: and self, and self-gratification must be made the yielding point in every disputed case. Not only must an appearance of outward order and comfort be kept up, but around every domestic scene there must be undermine, no external enemy break through.-ELLIS. a strong wall of confidence, which no internal suspicion can

By associating real events with fictitious terms we are sometimes tempted to ascribe to the latter a certain mysterious influence which practically invalidates the existence of a higher power. In all his researches into the phenomena of the world around him, and the laws by which they are exclusively to what he terms Nature, and the operations of regulated, the mere man of science directs his attention so Nature, that he at last begins to attribute to this delusive term an actual existence, and to ascribe to a word only, and the agency of God. The word Nature is certainly a very a shadow, what he ought to ascribe to the being and to convenient term for expressing the uniform action of the first Almighty cause, according to certain laws which in tition, we lose sight of the real meaning of the term, His wisdom he has enacted; but when by frequent repeor, by associating it with the phenomena around us, we encouraging the growth of a sceptical principle in the begin to give it an actual existence, then it is that we are God, we keep out of sight the Creator and Governor of the mind. By substituting in our speculations, Nature for universe, till we finally doubt the reality of His providence and of His power.-RiNWELL.

ON SPRINGS, WELLS, AND FOUNTAINS. THERE are several resemblances which serve to connect the phenomena of rain, springs, rivers, wells, and fountains. It is true that we have many things yet to learn before the precise rationale of any of these phenomena will be known, but sufficient has been developed to enable us to take a rapid glance at the broad features of the subject.

Through the agency of heat a quantity of waterreally enormous when considered with reference to the whole surface of the earth-is being constantly evaporated from the oceans, seas, lakes, and rivers, and becomes suspended in the atmosphere, in the form of invisible vapour. Conjectures have been made by some geographers as to the number of millions of cubic feet thus evaporated in a year; but the data for forming such conjectures are as yet too insufficient to be depended on. A decrease in temperature, the action of electricity, together with other agencies, has the effect of condensing this vapour into a visible mist which we recognize as cloud, fog, &c., and further of re-converting it into water as rain and dew, or into the icy form of hail, snow, and hoar-frost. As we have no reason for believing that there is more moisture in the whole of the earth's atmosphere in one year than in another, it follows that there must be as much precipitation from above as evaporation from below.

What then becomes of this precipitated water? We may separate it into three portions. One falls into the oceans, seas, lakes, and rivers, to be again evaporated as before; one falls on the vegetable soil of the valleys and plains of the earth; and the remainder falls on the summits and sides of mountains. The first portion requires no consideration in this place; the second affords nourishment to the vegetable kingdom, and filtrates downwards through the porous soil, the remainder being evaporated; the third is that which, according to the general opinion, is the chief source of springs, rivers, wells, and fountains, which are produced by some such operations as the following:-If the rain which falls on the tops of mountains and elevated places encounter a soil not easily penetrable by water, it collects in rills, which, uniting one with another, form springs and rivulets. These descending along the sides of elevations, seeking a lower level, encounter other similar streams, with which they unite, and at length form a river. But if the rain which falls on elevated ground happens to meet with a spongy and porous soil, or one traversed by numerous crevices, the water often sinks into the soil to very great depths before it encounters a barrier formed by an impenetrable stratum. When this has occurred, the lower portion of the water suffers a considerable hydrostatic pressure from that which is above; a pressure which frequently forces it to break a passage through the surface, and to gush out in the form of a spring, which uitimately enlarges into a tributary stream of some river. In other circumstances it happens, that the stratum of soil by which the subterraneous accumulation of Water is confined, is too strong to yield to this bursting pressure; in such a case no spring, generally so called, cecurs; but if a perpendicular opening be made in the ground, to such a depth as will penetrate the strata impervious to water, the subterraneous accumulation of ater, having forced an exit, will rise in the opening made. The height to which it will rise will depend the level of the elevated streams from which the water came: if this level be nearly equal to that of the mouth of the perpendicular hole, the water will rise to that level, and we then give it the name of a well; but if this level be above the mouth of the hole, the water W have a tendency to rush upwards, and if restrained by proper means, forms a fountain.

These are the relations which, in a general point of vies, springs, rivers, wells, and fountains bear one to

another; but many local peculiarities, and other circumstances of whose nature we are yet ignorant, disturb the regularity of this series. If this succession of phenomena were always regular, it would follow that springs and wells, depending wholly on rain, would vary in their supply of water, according to the drought or humidity of the season; but there are many springs which suffer no diminution even from the longest continuance of dry weather. In such cases the water must be derived from a source partly or wholly independent of rain; and it has been supposed to result from the filtering of sea-water through porous strata landward, the salt particles being lost in the passage. That salt water should thus filtrate to the land seems as probable as that fresh water should filtrate to the sea, which we know to be the case; for instance, there is fresh water found issuing up from the bed of the sea at the mouth of the Rio los Gartos, 500 yards from the shore; in Burlington Bay, Yorkshire; and near Xagua, in the island of Cuba. In all these cases the fresh water must have filtered from a land spring, through the porous strata forming the bed of the sea, and there forced for itself an opening.

There is scarcely any district in England in which the phenomena of springs, wells, and fountains, are exhibited in a more instructive manner than the London Basin. Nearly the whole of Essex and Middlesex, together with other districts surrounding the Metropolis, are contained in what may be termed an immense bowl of chalk, many miles in extent, in the interior surface of which there is a thick lining of sand supporting a deep bed of clay called the London Blue Clay; above this is, in most places, another bed of gravel and vegetable mould; and on this latter the Metropolis is built. We may assist our comprehension of this arrangement by imagining a number of basins placed one within another; one of chalk at the bottom, then porous sand, then stiff clay, and lastly porous gravel and mould. The interposition of this bed of stiff clay has a remarkable effect on the mode in which water accumulates beneath the soil of London and its vicinity; for its quality is so dense, that very little water can penetrate it; that which accumulates above cannot penetrate beneath it, while that which accumulates beneath is equally unable to force a passage upwards.

In accounting, therefore, for the water which may be found beneath London, we must consider whether it be above or below the clay. In relation to the former we may quote a remark from a writer in REES' Cyclopædia.

If a bed of sand be of great extent, and supported by a bed of clay or other impervious matter, water will undoubt edly be there found, whatever may be the depth of the bed of sand above it, if a well be dug through it; for as the sarily sinks through that pervious stratum, it is soon beyond water which falls in showers upon the earth's surface necesthe reach of the sun, so as not to be evaporated, and must sink downwards till it meets with an impervious stratum. There can be no doubt but that, under the immeasureable deserts of Libya, there must be water in abundance to supply any number of persons, were wells there sunk to the requisite depth; nor is that depth perhaps, in many cases, nearly so great as has been in general apprehended.


Whether or not this surmise respecting the African deserts be quite correct, it is certain that the gravel, immediately beneath the vegetable soil in the neighbourhood of London, contains a great deal of water. large number of the common wells with which individual houses are furnished, obtain their supply of water from the gravel above the clay, instead of the sand beneath it. Whether the wells of this kind are as numerous as the supply of water will admit, or whether the quality of the water is not equal to that found lower down, it is certain that many wells of vast depth have been sunk, penetrating through the entire mass of clay and sand,

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water, how can the rain-water find an entrance into the sand? The answer which has been given to this is a curious one: the chalk, though lying beneath the sand, clay, and gravel, appears, or as it is termed, "crops" out at the edges of the basin, to the visible surface; in like manner the sand, though beneath the clay and gravels, crops out at the surface, near the inner margin of the chalk; and it is supposed that the rain falling on these exposed portions of the sand, percolates through the porous strata, until it forms a kind of shell of water beneath the bed of clay. Mr. Mylne, the engineer, says,

The sand which lies below the clay has always been found considerably charged with water, derived no doubt from the surface of the more distant country, and entering where the sand makes its appearance on the surface, which may be termed entering at the verge of the basin. This outcrop, or margin of sand, is at a great height above the level of the Metropolis. It therefore necessarily follows, that, on boring into this basin, the water will rise in the bore-holes to various distances from the surface, according to the elevation of their respective situations.

It is to this elevation of the exposed surface of the sand, above the level of the ground at any spot where a well may be dug, that we must look for the cause of a fountain, as distinguished from a well. If, as before observed, the elevation of the source be such as to impel the water above the surface, a fountain is produced, which we may make of an ornamental character, or may use merely as a source for daily supply. Many instances have been given by engineers of the production of such fountains in the neighbourhood of London. In a garden at Isleworth, a well was bored through twentyfour feet of mould and gravel, and three hundred and twenty-seven feet of stiff clay, after which the water rushed up through the whole aperture (nearly equal to the height of St. Paul's, above the ground,) and made a fountain ten feet high from the ground, where it continued to pour forth (through a tube about two inches' diameter) eight gallons of water per minute. In another well, also at Isleworth, a bore of nearly three hundred

feet brought up a gush of water to a height of thirty feet above the ground, where it yielded thirty gallons per minute.

Those ornamental pieces of water in parks and pleasure grounds, to which the name of fountain is applied, in most cases result from an artificial reservoir, placed in a concealed spot at a sufficient elevation. The water is conveyed underground through pipes, which are furnished with valves and cocks. Numerous contrivances are adopted for regulating the supply of water, the issue of it at certain times, the ascent of it from some fanciful embouchure, such as the mouth of a dolphin, &c., the kind of cataract in which it falls, and the basin in which it is received. But the principle on which all these contrivances depend is, the tendency of water to seek its own level, when flowing in a confined channel from an elevated spot. The Romans appear to have been aware of this fact to a certain extent, although they failed to take advantage of it in the supply of cities with water, a purpose which by no means required the gigantic aqueducts which they erected. The public fountains of Pompeii, some of which are nearly perfect, show that the natives were aware of the ascensive property of water, when under pressure from a higher source; while paintings found at the same spot show that the Pompeians were equally well acquainted with the application of this principle to the formation of ornamental fountains.

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THERE is observable among the many a false sensibility, prompting them to remove those evils and those alone, which disturb their enjoyments by being present to their senses. Other miseries, though equally certain and far more terrible, they not only do not attempt to remedy; they support them, they fatten on them. Provided the dunghill be not before their parlour-window, they are well content to know that it exists, and that it is the hot-bed of their luxuries.

To this grievous failing we must attribute the frequency of war, and the long continuance of the slave-trade. The merchant found no argument against it in his ledger; the citizen at the crowded feast was not nauseated by the filth of the slave-vessel; the fine lady's nerves were not shattered by the shrieks of the sufferers; she could sip a beverage sweetened with the product of human blood, and worse than that, of human guilt, and weep the while over the refined sorrows of Werter or of Clementina. But Sensibility is not Benevolence. Nay; by making us tremblingly alive to trifling misfortunes, it frequently precludes it, and induces effeminate and cowardly selfishness. Our own sorrows, like the princes of Hell, in Milton's Pandemonium, sit enthroned "bulky and vast," while the miseries of our fellow-creatures able multitude, into some dark corner of the mind. There dwindle into pigmy forms, and are crowded, an innumeris our criterion, by which we may always distinguish benevolence from mere sensibility: benevolence impels to action, and is accompanied by self-denial-ANON.



Sold by all Booksellers and Newsvenders in the Kingdom.

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66 THE CHAPEAU DE PAILLE:" IN THE COLLECTION OF SIR ROBERT PEEL. Ox the 29th of September, 1626, Rubens sustained a severe domestic calamity, in the loss of his beloved wife. This loss affected him with that acute sorrow which is usually felt by persons of lively and energetic minds, when subjected to affliction. To divert his mind, he took a journey to Holland, and visited the most distinguished painters there. He gave due praise to their works, and purchased one or more pictures from each of them. Joachim Sandrart, then in his twenty-first year, was appointed to accompany the artist on a tour to the different towns in Holland, and, in his work called the German Academy, he thus notices the circumstance :

" I could find much to relate of this journey, and of the worthy conduct of Rubens, but will merely say, that, as he is distinguished in art, so have I found him eminent in virtues; and I have seen him looked up to with admiration everywhere by persons of high and low degree."


The knowledge of the world acquired by Rubens in the various scenes on which he was called to enter, his extensive acquaintance with political subjects, and with foreign languages, and the peculiar advantages attending his cultivated mind and elegant manners, prepared the way for his becoming useful in a new and totally dif

ferent character to that of an artist.


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