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mastered it, we again reached symptoms of vegeta- | it may, this cavity is never without water : in vain tion. Whortle-berries, moss, and a twisted growth has it been carefully emptied, nay, rubbed till no of dwarf pines, covered its rugged side. Here again moisture could be discerned; but ere the dairy herd the guide stopped, and bade us turn and look below. had ceased its office, drops of cold perspiration were First came the rocky desert,--next, a wavy sea of seen oozing from the solid rock, and again the witches' unnumbered forest-covered hills, then the wide- dog might slake his thirst therein. spread world below, bright in unmitigated sunshine, Having fortified ourselves with dinner in the with here and there a small speck that ntight be a Brocken-house, we once more braved the blast beacon-tower or village-church: but all so blended without. The hour of sunset was fast approaching, in one flood of light, that, contrasted with the dark and with every promise of being as bright as we forest enclosing us, it seemed almost like an opening could wish. Not a mist obscured the glorious exof the bright and sunny heavens, rather than any panse,--not a feature of the wondrous landscape was view of earth. Our good-natured guide nodded an concealed ; clouds there were, but only enough to assurance that “ Brocken would be good for us this reflect the "sapphire blaze," and to fill up the gornight," and we resumed our arduous undertaking. | geous pageant. At last the deed was done, and we stood triumphant To have a perfect view of this spectacle, it is on the summit of the mountain. The blast of wind necessary to stand where the panorama is complete, that assailed us was such, that the guide held me on and this can only be done by mounting a small, but the saddle till he had led the mule under the shelter immensely-strong tower, which forms the centre of of the solitary Gast-Haus, and then placed me on my the building. It rises only a few feet above the roof feet, congratulating me with hearty good-will, on my of the house, but sufficiently to command an unbroken safe arrival.

circular horizon, To this place we repaired just as This building is constructed in a manner that the sun had reached that point in his descent where shows what it has to endure. The granite walls are he seems to set on fire all the clouds which meet him. six feet thick, and the small windows are set even | Every mortal once, at least, in his life, should see, with the internal surface, so that, before each of from the top of a mountain, the sun go down; it is them, there is a deep, square embrasure. On entering like nothing else that the earth can show him, We the house we found ourselves in total darkness. A had the neighbouring mountain-tops for valleys, and passage runs through the whole length of the building, the earth's wide circle for our horizon ; but for the and exactly divides it: several doors open into the world between,-its darkness and its light—the lin. passage from the chambers on each side. When any gering brightness, which brought the distant hills to of the doors are open, a gleam of light reaches the view, the awful shade, already fallen on the pine. cavern-like passage, but when this is not the case, no forest at our feet, the inexpressible clearness of the dungeon can be darker.

atmosphere, which enabled us to count twelve distinct We groped our way along, till an old woman came distances in the landscape; all this can only be to our assistance, and led us to her small, but most | guessed at by those who have seen something like it warm and welcome domain. She told us that every themselves. The rose-coloured reflection of this body took brandwein and hot water as soon as they glowing sunset was, on this occasion, more than arrived, and having done so, and ordered dinner, we | usually brilliant in the east; for, as the sun went again left the friendly shelter, to battle with the down, vast masses of clouds arose in that quarter of strongest wind I was ever exposed to. Our guide the heavens, and, till the light was gone, mocked us led us first to a magnificent congeries of granite with the appearance of almost rival splendour; but fragments, which seemed to have pierced through when the borrowed glory left them, they assumed a the surface, and darted up twenty feet towards the far different aspect, and looked as full of storm and clouds. Wild and whimsical are the forms in which tempest, as they had before done of light and beauty. these masses are grouped, and here it is that the I had anticipated the pleasure of seeing the moon witches of the Brocken assemble, to perform their rise, and watching her pale light gleam upon all the unhallowed serenades. They neither play impromptu, witcheries of the Brocken ; but such a storm of nor from memory; for numerous rocks are pointed wind and rain ensued, as compelled us to seek for out, which serve them for their music-desks; and shelter, and pass the evening in talking over the the pile is therefore called “The Witches' Orchestra." wonders of the day. High in the midst a single stone runs above the rest, On arriving at the Brocken-house, we had been of course for the leader of the band; it is named told that there were no bed-rooms for us, but that a “the Devil's Pulpit.”

small room, with three couches, and a stove, were at From “ the Witches' Orchestra," we proceeded to our service. We went to the door of the Gast-Haus a very singular little lake, called “the Hexensee, or | to look out upon the night. The hurricane was Witches' Lake." This has been much larger within frightful. Many have cause to remember the fearful the memory of man; it is now but a few yards night that preceded the 1st of September, 1833. The across, and said to be of vast depth, no man having gale that blew that night caused more wrecks than ever found a line that could reach the bottom. On any that has been recorded for years; and we felt the other side of the Orchestra, bubbles forth the and heard it in a manner never to be forgotten. clearest and sweetest water in the world, but even We heartily welcomed the light of day, which was this is known by the name of the Witches' Spring, the signal of release from our dungeon-like apartwhich is said to be strongly influenced by their ment. Dismal, however, was the prospect that wicked will, as it runs and falls in a manner most greeted us when we again ventured to unclose the supernaturally capricious.

door of the fortress. A dense mist prevailed, and Iceland moss grows there in great abundance, and the wild and rapid movements of its shadowy shapes, the Alpine anemone was in the fullest bloom, though as the eddying blast propelled them, had more of it is a wonder how its delicate flower can open before majesty and mystery in it, than even the sunset of such piercing gales. Near the door of the Gast- the night before. Haus, another large fragment of rock stands, having Our descent was by a different and much easier a deep, natural cavity in it. This is denominated path than that by which we had mounted ; and, the Witches' Dog Stone, and let the weather be what before we had performed a mile of our downward

progress, all that was alarming or disagreeable had |

A CHURCHYARD SCENE. already disappeared, and was forgotten in the new

How sweet and solemn, all alone, delight that opened before us. The black clouds

With reverend steps, from stone to stone suddenly rose from the horizon, and rapidly mount

In a small village churchyard lying,

O'er intervening flowers to move! ing, by degrees displayed a landscape radiant in

And as we read the names unknown light, and beautiful beyond description.

Of young and old to judgment gone, After passing about two-thirds of the descent, the

And hear in the calm air above new path fell into the old one, and we came again

Time onwards softly flying, upon the beautiful torrent. We had not long pur

To meditate, in Christian love, sued our former road, when we again left it, in order

Upon the dead and dying!

Across the silence seam to go, to pass over the height on which stands the enormous

With dream-like motion, wavering, slow, cross pointed out to us the day before. To this point

And shrouded in their folds of snow, walks have been cut through the forest, with con

The friends we loved long, long, ago! siderable skill and care. They lead, by a narrow,

Gliding across the sad retreat, undulating terrace, along the side of one or two most

How beautiful their phantom-feet!

What tenderuess is in their eyes, picturesque minor mountains, to the extraordinary

Turned where the poor survivor lies rock where this cross, erected in memory of some

'Mid monitory sanctities! Prussian victory, rears its twenty feet of massive iron

What years of vanished joy are fanned, against the sky. This terrace-path lasts above a

From one uplifting of that hand league, and commands openings into some of the

In its white stillness! when the Shade wildest scenery of the Harz.

Doth glimmeringly in sunshine fade The extreme point on which the Cross stands is

From our embrace, how dim appears

This world's life through a mist of tears! bare and alone. All around it is clothed with the

Vain hopes ! blind sorrows! needless fears! pine-forest ; but this pale, solitary stone juts forth,

Such is the scene around me now: and hangs over the valley, with such a giddy pre

A little Churchyard on the brow eminence, that I tremble at remembering that I have

Of a green pastoral hill; stood upon its verge.

Its sylvan village sleeps below, Full of interest and enjoyment as this expedition

And faintly here is heard the flow

Of Woodburn's Summer rill; proved to us, I doubt whether I can fairly recommend

A place where all things mournful meet, the ascent of the Brocken to the generality of female

And yet, the sweetest of the sweet, travellers. But no one should be within a day's

The stillest of the still! journey of Ilsingbourg, without making an excursion

With what a pensive beauty fall on mules to the colossal cross, and returning by the

Across the mossy mouldering wall charcoal road, which leads along the mountain

The rose-tree's clustered arches! See

The robin-redbreast warily, torrent.

Bright, through the blossoms, leaves its nest; [Abridged from Mrs. TroLlore’s Belgium.]

Sweet ingrate! through the Winter blest

At the firesides of men-but shy

Through all the sunny Summer-hours, It has often been a matter of serious consideration to me,

Ile hides himself among the flowers, how much the natural love of distinction in man must be

In his own wild festivity. flattered by the sudden celebrity to which even the worst

What lulling sound, and shadow cool criminal stands forth, who is eminent for nothing but the

Hangs half the darkened churchyard o'er, greatness of his crime. He has perhaps lived a life of

From thy green depths so beautiful, obscurity and want, till by some hideous act of atrocity he

Thou gorgeous sycamore! becomes the temporary hero of the day. Every newspaper

Oft hath the holy wine and bread is then thought insipid that has not a column devoted to

Been blest beneath thy murmuring tent, him; his most trifling actions become objects of intense

Where many a bright and hoary head and universal interest; we are told how he eats, and drinks,

Bowed at that awful sacrament. and talks, and sleeps. He is visited by the most eminent

Now all beneath the turf are laid Christians; he is assured of the certainty of future blessed

On which they sat, and sang, and prayed. ness. When the day of execution arrives, crowds assemble

Above that consecrated tree to witness his conduct and to admire his heroism. The

Ascends the tapering spire that seems sympathy of thousauds is excited,--all gaze in breathless

To lift the soul up silently expectation to hear the least sound of his voice, and he

To heaven with all its dreams, dies like a martyr rather than a criminal.

While in the belfry, deep and low, There is a degree of vanity in our nature which the

From his heaved bosom's purple gleams approach of death can scarcely overpower; and if there be

The Dove's continuous minmurs flow, à temptation to hypocrisy, or an occasion when hypocrisy is

A dirge-like song, half bliss, half woe, dangerous to the salvation of all, it is on such occasions as

The voice so lonely seems!Wilson. these, when a multitude beholds the greatest of criminals almost canonized as a saint; the least relic of him is carefully treasured, -the very rope on which he was suspended SELF-CONCEIT.-Wouldest thou not be thought a fool in becomes an object of inestimable value; and we saw, on a another's conceit, be not wise in thine own: he that trusts late occasion, that when the offender became sufficiently to his own wisdom, proclaims his own folly: he is truly notorious, he was finally represented on the stage. Con- | wise, and shall appear so, that hath folly enough to be sider how many hundreds are longing for celebrity; how thought not worldly wise, or wisdom enough to see his willingly men will sacrifice their lives for fame, and that a own folly -QUARLES few would rather be thus known for their crimes, than not known at all -SINCLAIR's Modern Accomplishments. An Emir had bought a left eye of a glass eye-maker, sup

posing that he would be able to see with it. The man A man that hath no virtue in himself, ever envieth virtue begged him to give it a little time: he could not expect in others; for men's minds will either feed upon their own that it would see, all at once, as well as the right eye, good or upon others' evil; and who wanteth the one, will which bad been for so many years in the habit of it. prey upon the other; and whoso is out of hope to attain COLERIDGE. another's virtue, will seek to come at even hand by depressing another's fortune. BACON.

WHERE secrecy or mystery begins, vice or roguery is not

far off. —DR. JOHNSON. Humility is but a speaking truth, and all Pride is a lie. JEREMY TAYLOR.

Take everything by its smooth handle.

NOTES ON FOREST TREES. No. XIV.

the nuts, as a brown dye; and among the ancients, according to Pliny, it was used to give a rich brown colour to the hair.

The wood of the Walnut is soft and flexible, and easily worked, but while young is of little value, being very white, and liable to be attacked by the worm, but as it grows older, the colour becomes brown, sometimes very beautifully veined. In the south of France, the wooden shoes of the peasantry are made of Walnut. That wood is considered the best which has grown in a dry soil, although, in such a situation, the timber is not so quick of growth, as when the ground is rich and moist.

The Walnut is generally propagated by means of seeds, which are best sown in the Autumn, the nut not being deprived of the husk; this, it is said, is a security against the ravages of rats and other vermin.

It is recommended to place the nuts at the bottom of a trench, and not to employ the dibber in putting them into the ground ; six inches apart is a good distance to place them. During the first year, the young plants require constant and careful hoeing to keep them free from weeds. The young trees may be transplanted at the end of the first or the second year, so as to give them more space; and when they have attained the height of seven or eight feet, they are fit to be moved to the spot on which it is intended they should remain.

The trees which are raised from seed never bear fruit until after eight or ten years.

In addition to the common Walnut which we have described, there are as many as ten or twelve otber

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THE WALNUT, (Juglans regia.): The common Walnut-tree was originally, brought from Asia ; it is found particularly, in great abundance, on the shores of the Caspian sea, but it has been so long naturalized in Europe, as to give it a place among the European trees. The Romans were well acquainted with the Walnut-tree. At the conclusion of their marriage-ceremonies, the young couple flung walnuts among the spectators, emblematical of their intention of renouncing the games of their youth, and allowing more serious matters to occupy their attention. This custom is still preserved in the south of Europe, where nuts and almonds are employed in the same manner. The Walnut is not only valuable on account of its fruit, but, on the Continent in particular, its timber also is in great request; the value of the nuts, however, renders it scarce, as few trees are cut down for the use of the cabinet-maker.

The unripe Walnut is well known in England as a pickle, and for its use in the making of Walnutketchup. Our French neighbours, in addition to this, employ it in making preserves ; they also make a liqucur, by adding a pint of brandy to a dozen of unripe Walnuts, and sweetening the liquor with sugar according to the palate. The dried nuts also vield, by expression, a quantity of oil, of a good quality; this oil has been used in medicine, and is considered an excellent vermifuge, particularly in the case of the tape-worm. This tree has many good, or fancied good qualities, one of which was discovered by the French at the time they were unable to obtain our West India produce; namely, that the sap contains a considerable quantity of sugar ; the discoverer gives a long account of the method of preparing the sugar, which is much the same as that employed in the case of the juice of the sugar-cane, but he omits to mention the amount collected from a given quantity of sap. The dyers, formerly, were in the habit of employing the roots of the tree, and the husks of

LEAF, FRUIT, AND CATKINS OF THE WALNUT. species. The Black Walnut of America, is a large species, attaining the height of sixty or seventy feet, the fruit is good, but not equal to that of the common Walnut. The Ash-coloured Walnut is another American species, famous for the purgative qualities of its bark, which in some parts of America is much used in medicine,

The curiosity of an honourable mind willingly rests there, where the love of truth does not urge it further onward, and the love of its neighbour bids it stop ;-in other words, it willingly stops at the point where the interests of truth do not beckon it onward, and charity cries, Halt! COLERIDGE.

To a Christian, the moment of reflection is the moment of consolation. -RANDOLPA.

LONDON.
JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, WEST STRAND.
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| of the earl of Derby, in pursuance of a recommendaCOLLEGIATE CHURCH OF MANCHESTER. tion in the will of the former person, as a suitable WILLIAM CAMDEN, the chief of English antiquaries,

building for the benevolent institution which he had who wrote his Britannia in 1586, says quaintly of

contemplated, as stated below. Manchester, in the words of his old translator, Dr.

The present Collegiate Church, of which a view Philemon Holland ;

is annexed, and which occupies the site of the old Because the inhabitants had borne themselves as valiant

parish-church of Manchester, is described in the fol

| lowing terms by that eminent antiquary, the late Rev. men in the Danish war, they will have their town to be called Manchester, that is, as they expound it, The city of | Thomas D. Whitaker, L.L.D. men; and in this conceit, which implieth their own com “ The outside, being constructed of red, crumbling mendation, they wonderfully please themselves. But full stone, has suffered extremely from the operations of little know the good honest men, that Mancunium was the fire and smoke. Within, and on the south side, are name of it in the Britons' time, so that the etymology

several large chantries, one of which is the prothereof, out of our English tongue, can by no means seem

| perty and burial-place of the Traffords of Trafford. probable. I for my part, therefore, would derive it rather from Main, a British word which signifieth a Stone : for At the east end, and behind the altar, is the chapel upon a stony hill it is seated, and beneath the town there of the Chethams, where the munificent founder of the are most good and famous quarries of stone.

hospital has a tomb. There are also some later He assigns the foundation of “the fair Church and monuments of the family. On the north side of the College" of Manchester to Thomas Lord de la Ware, north aisle is a very spacious chapel built by Bishop a priest, the last heir male of his family.

Stanley, and now the property of the Earl of Derby. This Thomas de la Ware, who was for some time Beyond this is a small projecting chantry, under the rector of the parish church of Manchester, (having founder's arch of which, and within a plain altar-tomb, succeeded to the barony and estate of his family by lies the same James Stanley, Bishop of Ely (consethe death of his brother John, Lord de la Ware,) crated in 1506,) and Warden of Manchester, who died obtained leave of King Henry the Fifth to make his in the college. : There is a small figure of him in church collegiate, to consist of a warden and eight brass, and an inscription in old English, which is vicars. It was dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and en given in Bentham's History of Ely. But the great dowed with revenues to the yearly value of about ornaments of the church are the stalls, screens, and 2001. This college was dissolved in 1547, by King lattice-work of the choir, finished, in a great measure, Edward the Sixth, but refounded, first by Queen Mary, at the expense of this prelate, who, though little of a and afterwards by Queen Elizabeth, in 1578, and scholar or an ecclesiastic, seems to have had a muniagain by King Charles the First, in 1636, for a ficent spirit not unworthy of his birth. His family warden, four fellows, two chaplains, four singing connexion induced him to reside much at Manchester, men, and four choristers; being incorporated, as they to which he appears to have been greatly attached; had been before by Queen Elizabeth, as “ The Warden for nothing less than the powerful influence of the and Fellows of Christ Church in Manchester."

Stanleys could have obtained for him permission to These were ejected by parliament during the rebel. hold a commendam with the wealthy see of Ely. In lion, and their revenues seized ; and in 1649 the door richness and delicacy of execution, the canopies of of the chapter-house and college-chest were broken these stalls exceed anything I have seen, though, open by the soldiery under Colonel Thomas Birch, | perhaps, in point of lightness, they lose something when the deeds and writings relating to the foundation from the want of those tall spiring front pinnacles were taken to London, and never returned They were which marked the stalls of the two former centuries.' afterwards destroyed in the great fire of 1666. In | The town, probably the church, of Manchester, 1642, during the siege of Manchester by the earl of was originally a place of sanctuary, and one of the Derby, the college-house had been used as a store. eight places to which this privilege was confirmed by house by the troops within the town. In 1649, the the statute of 32 Henry VIII. in 1540-1. But the Independents converted it into a meeting-house. privilege was transferred to Chester in the following After the death of Mr. Chetham*, it was purchased year, as it had been found to operate to the prejudice • Mr. HUMPHREY CHETHAM, a great benefactor to the college,

of the wealth, credit, and good order of the place. whom Fuller briefly mentions among his Worthies of England, was John Huntingdon was the first Warden of Manchesborn in July 1580. He was descended of an ancient family, and ter, appointed in 1422. The very Rev. Thomas obtained his wealth chiefly by supplying the London market with fustians, a material of dress then in almost general use throughout

Calvert, D.D., is the present Warden, appointed in the nation. By this commerce, which was probably conducted on 1823. an extensive scale, Mr. Chetham acquired opulence; while his strict

Many of our readers are aware, that it is intended integrity, his piety, and works of charity, secured him the respect and esteem of those around him. His chief residence was Clayton to erect a bishop's see at Manchester. The Collegiate Hall, near Manchester, at that time surrounded by a moat, the Church is to become the Cathedral, and the diocese traces of which are now to be distinguished. “He was," says Fuller, "a diligent reader of the Scriptures, and of the works of

will consist of those parts of the county of Lancaster, sound divines; a respecter of such ministers as he accounted truly which compose the deaneries of Amounderness, godly, upright, sober, discreet, and sincere. He was high sheriff' of

Blackburn, Leyland, Manchester, and Warrington, tbe county of Lancaster, A. D. 1635, discharging that office with great honour, insomuch that very good gentlemen of birth and and which now form part of the diocese of Chester. estate did wear his cloth at the assize, to testify their unfeigned af In the Second Report of the Ecclesiastical Commisfection to himn." The charity of Mr. Chetham was not to appear only after his

sioners, published last year, it is stated that the esta. death. During his life he had “taken up and maintained fourteen blishment at Manchester is already so similar to that boys of the town of Manchester, six of the town of Salford, and two proposed for the cathedrals of the new foundation, of the town of Droylsden ; in all twenty-two. By his will, bearing date Dec. 16, 1651, he directed that the number of boys should be

that little change will be required besides the alteraincreased to forty; bequeathing the sum of £7000 for the purchase tion of titles from Warden and Fellows to Dean and of an estate, the profits of which are to be applied to the support of this establishment. The operations of this benevolent institution

Canons. have been since greatly extended by judicious management, and due attention to the views of the founder. Mr. Chetham bequeathed also the sums of £1000 for the purchase of books, and O BLESSED health! thou art above all gold and treasure ; £100 for a building, as the foundation of a public library; for the 'tis thou who enlargest the soul, and openest all its powers augmentation of which he devised the residue of his personal estate. • He further left £200," says his biographer, “to purchase godly

to receive instruction, and to relish virtue. He that has English books to be chained upon desks in the churches of Man.

thee has little more to wish for; and he who is so wretched chester Bolton &c."

as to want thee, wants everything with thee.-STERNE,

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