The latter is placed on a table made of oak from Nelson's ship the Victory. Turning to the last published number of the Journal of the Institution, we find among the subjects treated of, Military Drawing, Rotatory Storms, Camps of Exercise, Sails of Steam-vessels, and so forth. The author of the paper last mentioned is Mr Cunningham of the royal navy, who, some years ago, concealed himself behind a crane in Southampton docks, to escape the jibes and sneers of the bystanders who were watching the first trial of his method for reefing topsails from the deck. That method is, however, now widely adopted; and having observed the great vibration that takes place in the upper masts and rigging of screw-steamers, and the severe strain occasioned to the hull by the heavy weight aloft when rolling, Mr Cunningham has invented a new system of rigging, which diminishes the upper weight by about one-half, reduces the number of sails, has no yards to hinder the vessel's progress when steaming head to wind, and yet with all this improves the sailing qualities. It would not be easy to convey a description of the method without diagrams; but its chief peculiarities are, a preponderance of what sailors call fore and aft sails, and square-sail yards in two pieces, which, when the wind is ahead, range behind the masts out of the way. The experiments now making on two vessels at Portsmouth by order of the Admiralty, will, it is thought, determine the question whether or not there shall be an entire change in the rigging of screw-steamers. The By the enterprising endeavours of Baron von der Decken, and Mr R. Thornton, a somewhat vexed question in African geography has been set at rest; namely, that of the existence of the Snowy Mountains. A letter has been received from the two travellers above named, dated Zanzibar, November 12, 1861, in which they describe their journey from the coast to Mombas, in the interior, and from Mombas to Mount Kilimanjaro, which is 21,000 feet high, and is, as may be expected, covered with perpetual snow. travellers made a survey of their route by running a line of triangles from day to day, and if their measurements are accurate, the lower limit of the snow is at a height of 18,000 feet. They spent nineteen days in attempts at the ascent, but owing to the numerous natural difficulties, could not get higher than 8000 feet. But now that the mountain is known to be a 'great fact,' we doubt not that the Geographical Society will be entertained from time to time with accounts from adventurous explorers ambitious of reaching the summit. This discovery is the more satisfactory, as it confirms the narrative of the German missionaries, Krapf, Rebmann, and Echardt, who commenced their journeys in 1847, and went three times within sight of Kilimanjaro. The baron and his companion were the first Europeans to reach Lake Zipe, which is from twenty-five to thirty miles in length, two in width, and sends out a river, the Pangani. Hence we have another proof of the wellwatered condition of Eastern Africa. Mr Thornton was formerly one of Dr Livingstone's party, but through some disagreement he separated from them, and joined the baron. It may be that we shall get information concerning the same region from the doctor himself, or from Mr Consul Petherick, or Captain Speke. By information communicated to the Geographical Society, we learn that a new settlement has been successfully established at Port Denison, in Queensland. Thus the European population is extending northwards, and it appears that application has been made for permission to occupy a pastoral territory larger than England and Wales, lying north of the settlement in question, and reaching to within 300 miles of the Gulf of Carpentaria. At this rate, we shall hear before many years of lines of steamers from the Gulf to India and the Eastern Archipelago. Mr Hood, a member of the legislative council of Queensland, communicates a fact which-if it turn out to be a fact-will prove especially interesting to naturalists. After stating that remains of a fossil lizard had been sent from New Zealand to Professor Owen, he proceeds: There is said to be a possibility that the British Museum may still be adorned by a Dinornis; for, as is stated, a surveyor's party saw the footsteps of a gigantic bird, fourteen inches long and eleven wide on the spread, which had been impressed during the night over the tracks of the men made on the previous day. As the wingless birds in New Zealand are nocturnal in their habits, and as the district is exceedingly rocky, and full of caves, it is just possible that a surviving individual may there find its hidingplaces. Exertions are making to ascertain the truth of the report, and if correct, thoroughly to search the wild and unsettled districts which the bird is said to haunt.' Captain Crozier, who commanded the Terror in Sir James Ross's adventurous exploration of the antarctic seas, and who accompanied Sir John Franklin in his last fatal expedition to the north, is to be commemorated in his native town of Banbridge, Ireland, by a colossal statue mounted on a pedestal, which will be embellished with appropriate arctic emblems around the base. AN INVOCATION TO SPRING. COME quickly, O thou Spring! Come from the rosy South, In chariot of incense and of light, Walk softly o'er the Earth, Thou blessed Spirit of the Eden-time; Thy virgin herald's here The snow-drop bares her bosom to the gale, The lark now soars above, As if he felt thy freedom on his wings, The yet unbearded wheat Now timidly puts forth its tender leaf To drink sweet dews, for Winter, ancient chief, Crawls off with tott'ring feet. Your sorrows now inter, Ye dwellers in dark cities; Spring is nigh; To God, an anthem sing, When forth ye hurry to the fields of bloom; J. E. The Editors of Chambers's Journal have to request that all communications be addressed to 47 Paternoster Row, London, and that they further be accompanied by postagestamps, as the return of rejected Contributions cannot otherwise be guaranteed. Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH. Also sold by all Booksellers. THE WITNESS. SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 1862. IN THREE PARTS.-PART I I HAVE nothing but what is small and commonplace to say of myself. Left an orphan at a very early age, I was educated to be a governess, and I began my career 'in the nursery line,' at scarcely seventeen, and with rather a meagre stock of acquirements. I learned much by teaching; and at five-and-twenty I found myself well established in my vocation, and enabled to give the highest and most satisfactory references.' I have therefore no grievous descent in position or circumstances to narrate; no bitter regrets, nor heart-breaking recollections: I went on quietly, enacting the part for which I had long been prepared, and success in which was, in truth, the object of my humble ambition, and my lot as a governess has not been at all interesting or adventurous. I was never almost starved, never nearly beaten-no elder or younger sons fell madly in love with me, nor did their older relatives tempt me to sin and shame. I passed along an ordinary course, often neglected, and sometimes ill used, but more frequently treated with consideration, kindness, and respect; and at fifty-two I am able to rest from my labours on a secure little income, the result of long savings and a small legacy, and to settle myself in a comfortable lodging near two very dear pupils. It is at their earnest request that I am about to relate some very strange circumstances which occurred in one of the families in which I have resided. The scene of my terrible story was an enormous mass of irregular buildings of various dates, some of which reached back to the time of our earliest monasteries. It was called Greyfriars Abbey, and was situated near the coast, in a very remote part of Cornwall. My pupils were the twin daughters of a retired East Indian officer, who had lost a young and beloved wife in India, and had come home in broken health and spirits to live, as he best could, on a small pension. The only relation to whom he felt much attachment was a cousin, who, in the prime of her youth and beauty, had married a cross, gouty, old baronet of large fortune. At her earnest request, Captain Sinclair, with his two little girls, took lodgings in a village close to Greyfriars, where his cousin Lady Dighton, and her very disagreeable husband, were residing at the time of his return to England. After repeatedly disproving the prophecies of his PRICE 1d. medical attendants, by rallying from violent attacks of the gout in his head and stomach, and after a paralytic seizure which rendered him nearly helpless, the miserable old baronet, a burden to himself, and a curse to all around him, was found one morning dead in his bed, about a year after Captain Sinclair became his neighbour. Lady Dighton's jointure was enormous; it had been secured to her by a cunning and unprincipled father; and the death of Sir Thomas put her in possession of Greyfriars Abbey, a noble modern mansion called Fairley Park, in Hampshire, and a yearly income of many thousands. To the latter residence, every one who knew her felt confident she would repair as soon as common decency permitted, and many foretold that she would there speedily recommence the life of reckless gaiety into which she had plunged in the early days of her marriage. It was reported that she had been tricked into visiting Greyfriars by her jealous husband, and compelled to remain there. His paralytic seizure occurred about a twelvemonth after their arrival, and to the day of his death his unfortunate wife had been unceasingly the victim of his violent and capricious temper. Now, however, she was free. A pompous funeral conveyed the remains of Sir Thomas to the family-vault in the village church; his young and beautiful widow remained in decorous seclusion at Greyfriars during the whole of the ensuing twelvemonth, and the day after its termination, walked quietly, arm-in-arm with her cousin, Captain Sinclair, to the same church, whence they returned husband and wife. About seven years after that event, I was recommended to them as governess to the twin Sinclair girls, then more than twelve years old. There were no younger children. Fairley Park was still uninhabited; and Lady Dighton, who had gradually become a confirmed invalid, had never, since her second marriage, quitted the gloomy and once bitterly hated walls of Greyfriars Abbey. Every luxury that money could procure surrounded me in my new abode; my salary was very liberal, my apartments the best in a modernised part of the abbey; my pupils were gentle and intelligent, and I invariably met with the kindest courtesy from their father. He was an amiable, indolent, and somewhat melancholy man, who felt warmly grateful to me as his preserver from the misery of sending his girls to school. Numerous governesses had preceded me, and each in her turn had been worn out by the exceeding dulness and monotony of her life at Greyfriars; and when month after month went on, and the doting father found that I was perfectly contented, and that I never importuned him to consent to any schemes for the health and advantage of my pupils, which would have included pleasant plans and excursions for myself, I really believe his satisfaction and gratitude were unbounded. On my first arrival, I saw for several days only Captain Sinclair, and the twins Ellen and Janet. He made sundry confused and indistinct apologies for Lady Dighton, in which the words health, nerves, spirits, &c., were mingled and murmured without any specific mention of ill or ailment. Soon, however, I learned from the kind and sensible wife of the village vicar, the only lady who visited me, that it was strongly suspected the long trial of attendance on Sir Thomas had so greatly affected Lady Dighton, as to render her at times scarcely accountable for her many whims and eccentric proceedings. Mrs Dalton described the change in her health and habits as very gradual. For some time after the death of her husband, she had appeared to enjoy her freedom from the outbursts of his maniacal temper, and her relief from a life of the most miserable subjection. Up to the time of her second marriage, she went to church, walked and rode, or drove out as usual, and exhibited no particular variation in manner or spirits; but a few months afterwards, she gradually became weak in health and strangely nervous. Her complaint was called a nervous atrophy; her spirits were variable, and her behaviour capricious and strange. Although she ate voraciously, she grew more and more haggard in face and person, and resisted to the uttermost of her power every trial of the change of scene and air which was recommended as her best medicines. At length she consented to go for a few weeks to a watering-place within easy reach of Greyfriars. A house was taken, every luxury and comfort prepared for her, and the family arrived there one evening, with a host of servants and appendages. Before daybreak the next morning, Captain Sinclair roused the astonished household, and ordered the horses to be put to the carriages, and the whole party were again at Greyfriars long before their ordinary breakfast-hour. From that day, continued my informant, 'she never entered a carriage; her walks in the grounds become less and less frequent; and for more than the last twelve months she has never quitted her own apartments, which are the most ancient and the gloomiest in the abbey. Captain Sinclair does not share them; she will not even allow a servant to sleep in her room; and they say she bars her door every night, as if she expected to be murdered.' 'Does she see any one besides her own family?' 'No; not even a medical man. It is years since she has been to church, and since Mr Dalton or I have spoken with her. Poor Captain Sinclair humours her in everything. They have now been married more than seven years, and I am sure he has never had as many months of anything like comfort in her society.' 'How does he bear it?' indulgent master, and always ready to give the most liberal help to our poor. Mr Dalton never makes a claim upon his purse in vain. He thinks him a very good man; but he firmly believes that his heart is buried with his young wife in India, and that he has never felt more than gratitude and cousinly regard towards Lady Dighton. Moreover,' continued Mrs Dalton smiling, 'if you can endure the Greyfriars life, which no other lady in your place has yet been able to do, I really believe that no possible limit can be put to the gratitude he will feel towards you.' I am to be introduced to Lady Dighton this evening,' said I; 'we are to drink tea in her apartment.' "Oh, I know they do that sometimes,' she answered; and I have heard your predecessors lament over the custom. They said the girls got away as soon as possible after tea; that Captain Sinclair said little or nothing, and that they were left to listen to Lady Dighton's strange talk till the hour of their pupils' bedtime enabled them to escape.' 'Strange talk!' I repeated. 'Yes, it is sometimes very strange. Little as I ever saw of her, I know she could talk very strangely even before she shut herself up. The father was, I believe, an avowed infidel. I have heard from persons who knew him well that he was utterly devoid of religious principle. He lived entirely by his skill at cards and billiards and betting at races. Wretched man! he actually sold his beautiful young daughter to Sir Thomas. The pin-money and jointure settled on her were extravagantly large. No doubt he expected to long survive the old gouty baronet, but an apoplectic seizure carried him off only a few months after the marriage, on the race-course at Newmarket.' 'But of what nature is her strange talk?' 'Why, her father was a furious democrat as well as an infidel,' answered Mrs Dalton. 'He had been much in France, and had intimate friends among some of the leaders of the Revolution. Three important years of his daughter's life, those from fourteen to seventeen, were the years from '90 to '93, and they were passed in Paris, in the very heart of the horrors of that period. Lady Dighton is as familiar with the guillotine as you are with your scissors, and she talks composedly, and even approvingly, of men and things which we are accustomed to hold in utter detestation.' 'Well,' said I, 'I wish my first evening was over.' It passed, however, better than I expected. Lady Dighton's apartments were near the old chapel, and partly over the great monastic kitchen. Tradition appropriated them to the reigning abbots of the ancient brotherhood. Many small gloomy chambers were in that part of the abbey, abounding with intricate passages and unexpected little crooked staircases. She inhabited two chambers, one a sitting, and the other a bed room, both looking to an inner quadrangle of the abbey. A labyrinthine sort of communication with the more modern structure brought us at length to a great heavy door opening into a sort of lobby; and through another great heavy door Captain Sinclair preceded me into a moderate-sized and very gloomy apartment. The next instant, I was intro duced to Lady Dighton. She was tall and large-boned, but perfectly well made and proportioned; her features were high and handsome, a Roman nose, and large bright blue eyes, which seemed ready to start from her head, owing to the exceeding thinness of her face, the skin of which was stretched over her cheeks and nose so tightly as almost to give the idea that it must be painful to her. The complexion must have been originally delicately fair and blooming; it was now one uniform tint of pale yellow, except a bright crimson stain on each high cheek-bone; thin and scarlet lips, never entirely covering the large, white, projecting upper teeth, which were unpleasantly conspicuous when she spoke. A low forehead, lined and interlined with wrinkles, spreading into what are called crows-feet at the temples; eyebrows and eyelashes almost sandy coloured. A quantity of very light hair, mingled with gray, and with a natural wave all over it, but always so carelessly arranged that it looked frizzy and untidy, and was covered only by a black-lace half-handkerchief, tied in a loose knot under the chin. Her dress was a rich figured silk wrapping-gown, of a dark colour, open in front, but folded over so as not to shew the petticoat; a magnificent shawl upon her shoulders, and two or three others lying about on the sofa on which she was seated. I never saw her in any other costume. There was a table before her with a few books and writing materials upon it. The rest of the furniture was old and heavy; and all around looked as if the inhabitant of the place cared neither for beauty nor order; and so it was. The pleasures of the eye, like every other pleasure, had passed away from the miserable woman for ever. manner. She rose to receive me with much courtesy. She spoke little during the evening; but her manners were those of a perfect gentlewoman, and there was nothing unusual in her conversation. Afterwards, however, as she became more familiar with me, I found an increasing change in her language and She was fond of paradox and of making startling assertions, affecting the very vitals of morality and truth. It was often difficult to perceive how far she was in earnest, but too frequently there was a bitter sincerity in the vehemence with which she would maintain that there was no tangible reality in crime. The dreadful guillotine experience of which I had been told, could be clearly traced in her definitions of homicide, and even murder. According to her doctrine, that 'kind of being, Circumstance,' might cast over the most flagrant offences so softening a shade as to change their whole nature and appearance. Captain Sinclair always seemed to be as much annoyed as his quiet nature permitted, when she thus expressed her wild opinions to me. The girls always got away as soon as possible after tea; and when the conversation took any turn that displeased their father, it was his custom to rise from his seat, and walk up and down the room; and I well knew that, as he drew near the door for about the third or fourth time, he would slink out of our company in a somewhat cowardly manner. I did not like to argue with her, but as I could not without incivility leave her till the bedtime of the children, it was sometimes impossible to avoid argument, and even remonstrance. This she bore wonderfully well, though often with an air of silent superiority and compassion for the obstinacy of my prejudices; but there were moments, few and far between, when she was evidently impressed and softened, especially, strange to say, when I almost involuntarily quoted a few words from the Holy Book she affected to despise. It was indeed strange to see how they would seem to tell upon her, and then, for a brief moment or two, an expression of such utter and helpless misery would pass over her poor haggard face, that I could hardly bear to look at her; but it was only pity that I felt, and a confused sort of curiosity, for she never attracted or attached me. the year '92, our lodgings were in a street that led She paused, and that expression of hopeless misery of which I have before spoken passed strangely into her face, and I was tempted to say: Ah, if we could see the future, life would be intolerable; it is mercy that hides it from us.' In a moment, the sad, and, I may say, human expression was gone, and that of hard and proud defiance lighted up her great bright eyes as she answered contemptuously: Mercy! where is it? What stuff is it made of? It is idle to foul our tongues with words that have no meaning. Mercy! where is it found? Not on earth, where every creature preys upon some other; not in heaven, looking down, cold and pitiless, on the unutterable misery of earth. To live is to suffer!' Very thankful was I that the entrance of a servant compelled her to pause, and that at the same moment the old clock of the abbey struck the hour of my leave-taking. Lady Dighton had made me more than usually uncomfortable that evening, and I sat for some time in my own room thinking of her before I joined the children. She was the only cloud that shadowed my present mode of life. Comforts and luxuries surrounded me; my pupils were intelligent and affectionate; and even the I had been at Greyfriars about a twelvemonth, very servants, copying their kind and courteous master, when one evening-the last we ever spent together behaved to me with a pleasant civility that I had -she was more than usually disposed to enter into never before met with. My salary would enable me conversation. Something was said of the likeness to lay by largely for old age or sickness every year of the twins to each other, and we both agreed that I continued at Greyfriars, and I saw no definite that it was not more, nor even so much, as is often termination to my engagement; for Captain Sinclair seen between sisters of different ages. 'I once,' had not scrupled to say more than once of late, that said she, 'saw a most wonderful likeness; it was he should be most thankful if I could remain permaunder very peculiar circumstances; I shall never nently with his girls, and superintend their introforget it. When I was in Paris with my father induction into society. It was true that Lady Dighton 212 CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. M'Ilvar, was a clever young Scotch lawyer, of an old Highland family, and that they were making a little fishing and sketching tour together when this misfortune befell them. Captain Sinclair, whose kind heart better accorded with his old Indian habits of hospitality than with those of Greyfriars, soon settled it authoritatively with Mr Davis, that he and his friend were to consider themselves as fixtures till the invalid was able to be removed with perfect safety. for dinner, and when we met again, it was a pleasant surprise to me to see how this unexpected guest had We separated soon after this conversation to dress aroused Captain Sinclair from his ordinary languor and silence. The next morning, Mr Davis brought who, he said, protested he was quite well, and was grumbling most dreadfully at the surgeon's continued us very excellent reports of 'Mac,' as he called him, orders that he should be kept perfectly quiet, and at his old nurse's stubborn adherence to them. When, however, another day had passed, and all fear of evil consequences from the injury to the head had vanished, Mr Davis told us at dinner that Mac had announced his determination to join our party on the following day. am,' said he laughing. troubled me at times, and I found that I did not get accustomed to her ways so much as I had supposed I should do. She frequently so startled and distressed me, that I could not dismiss the recollection from my mind, nor resist an uneasy sort of curiosity about her, for which I often reproached myself. But this was a small evil compared with my numerous blessings; and I well remember that on this particular evening, though more perplexed and grieved by her than usual, the end of my reflections was a strong determination to continue at Greyfriars even for her sake-to do my utmost to win upon and soften that unhappy lady, and, if possible, to alleviate her sufferings, whatever might be their origin. Little did I think that a casual circumstance of the very next day would soon scatter the whole family, and leave me to seek another home. I have said that Greyfriars was situated in a remote and wild part of Cornwall. Among the accompaniments of such a situation, difficult and even dangerous roads were naturally to be expected. One peculiarly meriting that character led down the steep hill which sheltered the abbey to the north, into what was by courtesy called the high road through the village, and on the morning which followed the conversation I have just related, two gentlemen-tourists, in their own gig, met with an accident in descending it. Captain Sinclair was roused from a pleasant simmer over a new magazine by the news that a carriage was broken to pieces within a short distance of the abbey-gates, one gentleman killed on the spot, and another dreadfully hurt. scene of the disaster, accompanied by all the male answered Mr Davis; and his family, it is said, On reaching the and several of the female servants, he found mat'He springs from a very ancient Highland stock,' ters not quite so bad as they had been repre- scarcely a bonnet among the M'Ilvars, I believe, that sented. There was indeed a gig with a wheel has not a bee of some sort or other in it. Many of are always clever and odd, as he is. lying by its side, the shafts and traces broken, and his ancestors were celebrated second-sight seers. There is the horse nowhere visible; a gentleman lay on the father and mother were first-cousins, and he himself bank, evidently in considerable pain, and his companion, apparently unhurt, was endeavouring to father's death, which, to say the least of them, are His support and assist him. can remember some circumstances connected with his ately despatched a man on horseback for the nearest and I doubt not a quick and observant boy. His Captain Sinclair immedi- very curious. surgeon, and, with the aid of a door taken off the father's return home was hourly expected after a long He was then about six years old, hinges, and a mattress and pillows, the sufferer was absence in England. It was, he says, a still summer brought to the abbey, and laid down in one of the evening; there was a long and winding approach lower apartments. He soon recovered enough to sit through the grounds to their house, and he and his up, and presently to stand up, saying, that the only elder brothers and sisters were anxiously listening injuries he had received were a blow on the head, for the distant sound of wheels, that they might which had stunned him for a few minutes, and some be ready to rush to the door, when suddenly his considerable mischief, he feared, in the left arm. surgeon, who had luckily been met with in the "It is a stranger who is coming!" At that moment, village, soon ascertained that it was only a simple they began to hear the sounds they were watching The mother stood up, and looking vacantly around, said: fracture just above the wrist, that would cause, after for; but their attention was soon painfully drawn to a few days, little more than inconvenience. He could their mother, who sank upon the ground, shrouding not pronounce so positively as to the head. Leeches her head in a shawl, and, as the carriage passed the and lotions were to be applied without loss of time, nearest gate, she looked up with a ghastly countenance and the patient was to be kept perfectly quiet in a and said: "Your father is dying on an English beddarkened room for at least eight-and-forty hours. strangers are watching over him! He is gone! he is The apartment into which he had been carried was a dead!" Mac declares that this was all exactly true. parlour in the modernised part of the abbey; a bed His father had been taken suddenly and dangerously and other requisite appendages were quickly moved ill on his homeward journey; the approaching carinto it; and after the leeches had done their work, he riage brought a messenger with these sad tidings, and was left, by the doctor's directions, in perfect quiet, it was afterwards ascertained that he had expired with only the old housekeeper to attend to him. before they reached his family.' When Captain Sinclair and the other gentleman came to us in the drawing-room, I recognised in the latter an acquaintance of some years' standing. He was uncle to a pupil whose education I had what is called finished, and who continued to be a dear friend of mine. and he said he thought himself fortunate in finding We were glad to see each other, it thus certified that he was not swindling himself into the hospitable walls of Greyfriars. a pleasant sort of mock ceremony, he begged me to vouch that he was the Rev. Horace Davis, With rector of Castle-Stepworth, in Somersetshire, and brother-in-law to Joseph Baker, Esq., in whose house we had become acquainted with each other. He then told us that his unlucky companion, Mr vouched for by an eye and ear witness, quite old asked Captain Sinclair. I never heard that he could boast any knowledge of |