Near the moist brink

Of music-loving streams they ever keep, And often in the lucid fountains peep;

Oft, laughing, drink

STARCH-LOZENGES.

STARCH, which is a proximate element of wheat-flour, when diffused through water, gradually subsides in the form of a fine white powder, which, when looked at through a magnifier, appears to consist of small brilliant grains, the size of which varies in the varieties of starch; each of these grains consists of an outer membrane, enveloping a more soluble matter, which has been called amidine. When the starch, as originally deposited, has been purified by repeating washing, and drained upon a fine sieve, it gradually forms a cake, which, on further drying in a stove, splits into those small columnar pieces, in which we

THE Custom of keeping servants when age rendered them useless, bound them to the family by strong ties, which made them interested for the welfare of their superiors. They felt that prosperity added to the general comfort, while adversity would deprive them of present enjoyment and future support; doubtless, many acted from principle as well as interest, when one of the members were removed, conscious that there was either a protector, in danger, or a comforter in sickness, less to depend on. If they settled in life, their children were taught to respect and obey those whose roof had sheltered their parents, and to hope they should be allowed to show their gratitude by cheerful obedience, to those whose kindness they had been taught to appreciate. Doubtless, some were led away by bad advisers, but numbers were faithful unto death. All this union of dependance has vanished, and you are now not unfrequently entertained, part of the time you devote to visiting, with a detail of the extravagance and faults of hirelings, who knowing that four weeks may send them forth to seek another home, where caprice or temper may prevent their remaining a longer period, become careless of consequences to all: these frequent changes must be to master and servant unprofitable, if not ruinous. Some few family seats, and mansions, are still adorned with grayheaded domestics, who are proud to display the works of art and beauty that grace the abode that has sheltered them. -The Original.

starch used in this country is manufactured in or near London, and almost exclusively of wheat-meal; but a good and useful starch may also be procured from potatoes, and from a number of other vegetables; and of these varieties of starch, some are used as articles of food, such as arrow-root, sago, tapioca, and cassava. Wheat-starch is chiefly used for stiffening wearing-apparel; and in order to cover the yellow tint which linen is apt to acquire, a little stone-blue, or smalt, is commonly added to the starch used for such purposes. Formerly, starch was largely consumed in the form of hair-powder, and the discontinuance of that absurd and dirty fashion has, of course, materially diminished the demand: in this country, indeed, the use of starch is very limited; but in some parts of Holland, Germany, and Switzerland, where even the lower orders and peasantry wear stiff caps and frills, the manufacture of starch is carried on upon a large scale.

There is, however, another outlet for starch, which occasions a considerable demand for that which is of a very inferior quality, and that is, in the manufacture of hard confectionary, such as lozenges, sugar-plums, and similar articles: those which are sold about the streets, and made "for the use of schools," are generally composed of the offal of starch-works, mixed with plaster of Paris, pipe-clay, or chalk, and as little sugar as is able to give them a palatable sweetness; but what is worse is, that they are often coloured with red-lead, verdigris, gamboge, and other mineral and vegetable poisons. A species of refined liquorice, manufactured for the same market, is a compound of common Spanish-juice, lampblack, and starch. [Magazine of Popular Science.]

WAKEFIELD BRIDGE AND CHAPEL. THE entrance to the town of Wakefield, from the south, presents an object which cannot fail to arrest the attention of every stranger. The roads from Doncaster and from Sheffield each making a short bend down the hill, unto within a few yards of the bridge over the river Calder, which here displays a wide extent of water.

On the right of the bridge, having its front in a line with the eastern parapet, but being itself built on a narrow strip of land raised above the bed of the river, stands King Edward's Chapel. The broken sculpture of its once richly ornamental west front, the just proportions of the several parts of the building, and the peculiarity of its site, are such as to lead even the most incurious observer to desire to know something more of so interesting a relic of former ages.

It appears from history, that on the 24th of December, 1460, an important battle was fought on the ground extending from Wakefield Bridge to Sandal Castle, Margaret, queen to Henry the Sixth, defeating an army under the Duke of York, who was

then aspiring to the crown. The Duke perished in the battle, and his son, the Duke of. Rutland, then a youth about seventeen years old, was taken prisoner, and cruelly put to death in cold blood by "the butcher," Lord Clifford, in revenge for his own father's death in the battle of St. Alban's.

King Edward the Fourth, son of the above Duke of York, is believed to have endowed, and most probably rebuilt and greatly adorned the chapel, which already existed on the bridge at Wakefield, and which was near the spot where his father and brother had perished, so that religious services might there be daily performed for the repose of their souls. The chapel now forms the counting-house of an eminent mercantile firm.

The place where the Duke of York fell is about half a mile from the bridge, to the right of the old road leading up to Sandal Castle, and is marked by two large willow-trees growing on the spot.

The bridge consists of nine arches, and a view of it from beneath discloses some few particulars worthy of notice. In the first place, it is seen that the chapel was built after the erection of the bridge, as the former is placed nearly against one of the buttresses, and having stone-work to divert the force of the current from the building.

The bridge also presents the anomaly of circular arches on the west side, and Gothic arches on the east. Now, by inspection from the bed of the river, the original bridge seems to have been but fifteen feet wide, the arches being Gothic ; afterwards, trade increasing, and wheel-carriages becoming more common, a new part, nine feet wide, was added, but ou circular arches. As the purposes of commerce again required its further enlargement, another portion, ten feet wide, was added on circular

arches, of the same dimensions as the former. The whole width of the bridge is now about thirty-four feet.

The consideration of the original bridge, with its width of fifteen feet, (from each exterior surface, so that the road-way must have been very narrow,) carries the mind back to the days of pack-horses, when the internal commerce of the country was chiefly carried on by these humble means; and there still exists part of the narrow path, almost in its original state, once forming one of the chief roads from the northern parts of the kingdom to the south. This portion of the old pack-horse way commences just above the toll-bar in the old road to Saudal, before-mentioned, passes over the field of battle, and, though here and there obliterated, or altered by modern enclosures, may be traced for about two miles, to its junction with the present turnpike-road, near New Miller Dam.

Wakefield also possesses a few very curious remains of the domestic architecture of ancient date.

R. J. B.

THE loss of a mother is always severely felt; even though her health may incapacitate her from taking any active part in the care of her family, still she is a sweet rallying-point, around which, affection and obedience, and a thousand tender, endeavours to please, concentrate; and dreary is the blank when such a point is withdrawn; it is like that thing to us in themselves, yet the shepherd would feel his lonely star before us, neither its heat nor light are anyheart sad, if he missed it, when he lifts his eye to the brow of the mountain over which it rises, when the sun descends. DECORATE the perishing body as we will, either living or dead, if the soul is miserable or in danger, it is but a senseless mockery. Though men may contrive to shut their eyes to the danger of their state, the time must come, when their eyes will be opened to the truth of God's word here, or the reality of His indignation hereafter.-GALT.

THE SHAKSPEARE CLIFF AT DOVER.

....

"TENDER for the Shakspeare tunnels!" we exclaimed, as we took up a newspaper containing an advertisement for contracts for works from the "South-Eastern Railway Company." What! is it then intended "to excavate and complete a double tunnel through and along the Shakspeare Cliff at Dover?" that .. cliff, whose high and bending head Looks fearfully on the confined deep. Surely the march of railroads and utilitarianism can no further go than this. The roar of a "first class train" against the roar of waves! This, indeed, is the "unkindest cut of all" against the "picturesque" tourist, in these days of locomotive engines, railways, tunnels and embankments. Carried away by recollection, and the sight of the view we are about to illustrate, we thought of the celebrated lines of our great dramatist in King Lear:

How fearful

And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low!

The crows and choughs that wing the midway air,
Show scarce so gross as beetles.
Half way down

Hangs one that gathers samphire: dreadful trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head.
The fishermen that walk upon the beach
Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark
Diminished to her cock; her cock, a buoy,
Almost too small for sight.

The murmuring surge

That on th' unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.

From the dread summit of this chalky bourn
Look up a-hight-the shrill-gorged lark so far
Cannot be seen or heard.

But let us, as becomes sober topographers, turn to the matter-of-fact duties of our vocation.

We have taken occasion in former numbers* to refer to the interesting locality of Dover;-to its singularly-situated town, its extensive, and almost impregnable fortifications ;-to the venerable church within its castle, respecting the superior antiquity of which to any other Christian place of worship within these islands, we then ventured upon expressing an opinion; and, more recently, some other interesting remains in its neighbourhood ;- -nor have we yet exhausted the subject, but shall on some future occasion recur to it.

In the beautifully-romantic character of its castle and cliffs, Dover has been pronounced unequalled. One of the most impressive of its series of views is that of the lofty cliff, which, as we have seen, derives its name from Shakspeare's terribly-vivid and somewhat overcharged description. This bold steep, which stands out in front of the heights on the south-western side of Dover harbour, has no doubt lost some of its effect from the corroding hand of time and the elements. From the use of the term 66 bending head," indeed, it would appear that at the period when Shakspeare wrote King Lear, in 1605, the summit of the rock presented a very different appearance to what it does now. Within the last fifteen or sixteen vears, we believe, it has been somewhat dilapidated by the fall of a large mass of the chalk of which it is composed.

-

Samphire †, a wild marine plant which generally grows in rocky and inaccessible situations, and is considered valuable in consequence of its making one of the most delicious pickles that we possess,-is still gathered from it. An old writer says, "Samphire grows in great plenty on most of the sea-cliffs in this See Sat. Mag., Vol. III., p. 154; Vol. V., p. 132; Vol. X. p. 112. + See Saturday Magazine Vol. I., p. 5.

country: it is terrible to see how the people gather it, hanging by a rope several fathoms from the top of the impending rocks, as it were, in the air."

The name of Dover, our antiquaries agree, is British, and signifies a steep place. The castle stands on an eminence, 469 feet above the level of the sea, and some of the adjacent rocks rise to an altitude of 320 feet. The view from Shakspeare's Cliff, therefore, as may be imagined, is one of great beauty and On a fine day, the coast of France is made out with great distinctness: the immediate locality is one of peculiar interest and grandeur; and the surface of the ocean, studded as it sometimes is with vast fleets, presents a series of ever-varying combinations.

extent.

However fine, as an object, the Shakspeare Cliff may be, there is nothing about it so remarkable as to excite the particular interest of the topographer and the tourist, in an island like this, which, on its western shores especially, is so famous for rock-scenery, were it not for the halo which the genius of Shakspeare has shed over it. This leads us to reflect on the rare and extraordinary powers of mind possessed by this great writer, and his unrivalled knowledge of human nature. He seems, indeed, to have opened, as it were, a window in the human breast, and to have penetrated, with intuitive power, the mysteries of "this little world of man." If we consider the circumstances of his life, and the mode of his education, our conceptions of the vastness of his intellect derive additional strength. The lives of few eminent men,—judging from the scanty materials that have come down to us,-appear to have less to distinguish them from those of "the common herd," than that of Shakspeare. His birth was comparatively humble, his father, who died in great indigence, having been first a glover, then a butcher, and lastly a wool-stapler, in the town of Stratford-on-Avon.

The poet's education at the grammar-school of his native town, where he is said to have acquired “small Latin and less Greek," was on the whole extremely defective; but he no doubt subsequently did much to remedy this. He married very young and unhappily; and according to the popular story, was compelled to leave Stratford early, in consequence of having engaged in a deer-stealing exploit with some dissolute companions. This supposition has, however, been doubted, though we do not think on good grounds, and it has been asserted that his removal from his native place was occasioned by estrangement from his wife. Before he left home the bent of his mind was essentially dramatic; two of his townsmen were eminent actors, and when his views in life were unavoidably altered, it was natural that he should bend his steps to the metropolis, and seek a theatrical occupation. It is generally believed that the first office he held in the theatre was that of call-boy, or prompter's attendant. But he did not long continue in that capacity, being soon admitted to perform minor parts in the popular plays of the period; and from a player he became in the end a writer for the stage. He seems, however, never to have risen to any eminence on the stage; and his greatest reward as a player did not exceed six shillings and eight pence a week. Dr. Drake well remarks that it is a most fortunate circumstance for the lovers of dramatic poetry that he did not attain a high rank in his profession; for if he had not been despised as an actor, he would, in all probability, never have aspired to distinction as an author. Shakspeare was warmly patronised by Queen Elizabeth and James the First: although particularly fond of dramatic representations, however, it does not appear that either of these sovereigns ever visited the public theatres; but gratified their taste by command