According to Mr. Buckler, who published a valuable | account of this palace a few years ago, the length of the hall in the inside is above 101 feet by about 36 in width. "The interior," says this writer, "is magnificent. The taste and talent of ages are concentrated in its design; and it is scarcely possible to imagine proportions more just and noble, a plan more perfect, ornaments more appropriate and beautiful; in a word, a whole more harmonious than this regal banquettingroom." The windows, which, however, have been long built up, are ranged in couples along both sides; and each series is terminated by a bay window at the west or upper end of the hall. But the most conspicuous ornament of this fine room is its splendid roof. "The main beams of the roof," says Mr. Buckler, 66 are full 17 inches square and 28 feet long, perfectly straight and sound throughout, and are the produce of trees of the most stately growth. A forest must have yielded its choicest timber for the supply of this building; and it is evident that the material has been wrought with incredible labour and admirable skill." This hall was undoubtedly the erection of Edward IV., whose well-known symbol, the expanded rose, is still to be seen on various parts of the building. About four years ago the public attention was called to the state of this beautiful remnant of our ancient architecture, which it was understood there was an intention of levelling with the ground, on the pretext that the roof in some parts showed signs of decay, and threatened to fall if not taken down. It had been resolved, it seems, to re move the roof to some new building at Windsor or elsewhere, and then to demolish the rest of the hall. By the exertions, however, of some individuals of taste and influence a reconsideration of the subject was obtained; and eventually it was determined by the Government to advance a small sum, in order to effect such a partial repair of the hall as might at least secure its stability for the present. The work was committed to the superintendence of Mr. Smirke, by whom it was executed with much ability; and the roof is now once more restored, as far as was practicable, to its original strength and beauty. In other respects, however, the hall, we believe, still remains in the state in which it was previous to the repairs, and continues to be used as a barn. NAPLES has been considered by some travellers to rival, and by others to surpass, in beauty, Constantinople, which we have described to our readers. This ancient and every way remarkable city rises like an amphitheatre at the back of a magnificent bay more than thirty miles in circumference, which, from the beauty and luxuriance of its shores and the picturesqueness of its scattered islands, is perhaps unrivalled even in the Mediterranean. The view of the city from the head of the bay, when seen for the first time, appears too lovely to be real. It runs in a long and gentle curve round the sea-shore, rising inland up the declivities of gentle hills, which above the line of the city are covered with vineyards and gardens, and speckled with villas and monasteries. The summit of one of these hills is crowned by the massive palace of Capo di Monte, that of another by the spacious monastery of San Martino and the castle of St. Elmo, in the rear of which, and high above, stretches the wooded mountain of the Camaldoli, with another picturesque monastery on its brow; and the ridges of these hills immediately behind Naples are fringed in many places with romantic looking villages, and here and there with groups of the graceful Italian pine-tree. To the right of the city, at the distance of about four miles, rises the conical volcano of Vesuvius, at whose feet repose the villages of Portici and Resina, which stand over the ancient city of Herculaneum (buried by an eruption of the mountain) and are connected with the capital by an almost uninterrupted chain of suburbs and hamlets. To the left, starting close from the extremity of the city, projects the gentle promontory of Posilippo, entirely covered with beautiful little villages, country seats, towers, gardens, and groves. And at the back-ground of nearly the whole of this VOL. 1. magical picture tower the bold summits of part of the Apennine chain of mountains. The view from the city is not less admirable; besides Vesuvius and Posilippo, and the winding shores of the bay, it commands, immediately in front, the rugged and most picturesque cliffs of the island of Capri; a little to the left of that island Cape Campanella, the extremity of a peninsula as grand as that of Posilippe is gentle; and, glancing along that coast until it is surmounted at a corner of the bay opposite to Vesuvius by the sublime heights of Mount St. Angelo, whose rocky summit is ornamented by a small white hermitage, the eye can take in the towns of Massa, of Sorrento (the birth-place of the poet Tasso), of Vico, of Castellamare, and many villages on the declivities of the mountains, or on the cliffs that rise on that side perpendicularly from the bay. The interior of the city, like Constantinople, is not equal to its external appearance and the scenery around it. How indeed could it be so? But, also like Constantinople, its interior is much better than travellers have generally chosen to describe it. Naples, which occupies the ground of both Palapolis and Neapolis, towns of ancient and Grecian origin, is an open and irregularly built city; its greatest length is along the sea-shore, where it extends in a curve of about three miles and a half; its breadth is very unequal; at the west end (which, as in London, is now the fashionable part) it is so much contracted between the hills of Vomero and Belvedere and the sea as only to allow of one or two parallel streets; there is more open space towards the centre, where it extends northward as far as the hills of Capo di Monte and Capo di Chino, between which beautiful eminences and the sea stands the most populous part of the town, including the old city, whose ditches 2 M and walls are still to be traced in many places. Its | greatest breadth from south to north, or from the seashore to the foot of Capo di Monte is little short of two miles. The ground it occupies is of course very uneven, which is the cause of some internal inconvenience and of great external beauty. About 400,000 souls inhabit the space described, so that Naples, as to population, must be reckoned among the great capitals of Europe. The Strada Toledo, which traverses the city for three quarters of a mile, is the principal street in Naples, and, at least, one of the most populous, busy, and noisy streets in the world. Nothing can be more striking than the contrast between a street of Constantinople, and this or almost any other street of Naples. There the pedestrians are few and taciturn, and there are no equipages; here abound wheeled carriages of every description, from the humble hack corricolo with its single little horse, to the gay carriage of the noble with its pair or double pair of proud steeds; and the noise made by the rattling wheels of these thronging vehicles is equalled by the vociferousness of the crowding footpassengers, and by the men, women, and children that ply their business by the sides of the streets. Though the Neapolitan taste in architecture is generally far from good, there are some fine and imposing palaces on the Toledo, where indeed all the houses are lofty; and as, in despite of a faulty government the general civilization of Europe has of late years crept into that extremity of it, many of the nuisances complained of in former times have been gradually disappearing, and the Strada Toledo and some other parts of the town assuming an aspect of general decency and comfort. According to the accounts of those who have known it during all that interval, the progress of Naples has been very considerable since 1815. If Toledo could be made a little wider, it might become indeed a splendid street. As it is, however, it is as wide as the generality of the streets on the Continent; but, in the lower or old part of Naples, the narrowness of the streets is such as to be ridiculous and almost incredible. There is an extensive quarter called "Napoli senza Sole," or Naples without Sun, and where in reality, from the height and closeness of the lines of buildings, that luminary never shines. In some of those streets a man may stand in the middle, and, by stretching out his arms, touch the houses on either side of him. Here inhabit the poorer and the genuine Neapolitans of the old school, unchanged as yet by the civilization of Europe, and probably in all things much the same as when the fisherman Masaniello, with the populace of these quarters, discomfited and humbled the Spanish viceroy. The number of churches in the whole city is immense, amounting to several hundreds. There is more than one street entirely occupied by convents. But of these clumsy monastic edifices, which were made to cumber the soil chiefly during the misrule of the superstitious Spaniards, many have long been converted into inns, manufactories, colleges, and schools, and the orders or societies to which they belonged have been suppressed. One of the most striking features of Naples is the predominance everywhere of volcanic matter. The three hills upon which the city chiefly stands (to say nothing of Vesuvius on one side of it, and the lake of Agnano, the Astruni, and the Solfatara on the other, which are so many extinct volcanoes) are themselves three exhausted and worn-down craters; the ground in many places is hollow; sources of water impregnated with sulphur gush out in the town; every street is paved all over with broad flags of dark lava cut and brought from Mount Vesuvius; the subterranean road through the grotto of Posilippo, and nearly every other road where it enters the capital, is paved with the same material-one, the road of Portici, for a distance of five or six miles. In the construction of the houses, lava and volcanic debris are worked up with tufa. Blocks of lava meet you everywhere. They are thrown into the sea to form piers and jettees, and the finer sorts furnish materials to carvers and other artisans, who cut them into snuff-boxes, paper-pressers, chessmen, and chimney-piece ornaments. ANCIENT MODE OF CATCHING ELEPHANTS IN INDIA. * IN a former number (July 21) a short account was given of the present mode of capturing elephants in India. The reader may perhaps not be unwilling to compare it with the ancient way of taking these huge animals, as we have it transmitted to us in Arrian's book on India. Arrian was a Greek writer of the second century of our era, who derived his information from the memoirs left by Alexander's generals, and those drawn up by other Greeks who visited India between the time of Alexander and the age of the compiler. "The Indians hunt other wild animals just as the Greeks do; but their mode of taking the elephant is quite peculiar, as indeed the animal itself resembles no other. Having picked out a level piece of ground, open to the sun, they inclose by a ditch a circular space large enough for the encampment of a considerable army. The width of the ditch is about 30 feet, and the depth about 24. The earth that is dug out is heaped up on each margin of the ditch, and serves as a wall. In the exterior wall thus formed they make excavations, which serve as hiding-places, from which, through certain holes that are left for supplying light, they watch the elephants as they approach and enter the enclosure. Then having placed three or four very tame female elephants within the enclosure, they leave one entrance, which is made by bridging over a part of the ditch; and that the elephants may not have any suspicions, they throw a great quantity of earth and grass on the bridge to prevent the animals from seeing what it really is. Having done this, the hunters hide themselves in their holes. Now the wild elephants never come near inhabited spots in the day-time, but when it is night they ramble about in all directions, and feed in herds, following as a leader the largest and boldest of their company, just as cows follow the bulls. When the elephants have come near the enclosure, they discover the females both by their noise and smell, and hastening towards the spot they run round the ditch till they find the bridge, over which they all try to push into the enclosure. The huntsmen, on seeing the elephants within the ditch, quickly take the bridge down, while others of the party run to the neighbouring villages to let the people know that the elephants are caught. A large party now mount all their strongest tame elephants, and ride straight to the enclosure, where they wait till the wild elephants are much weakened for want of food and water. When the hunters think the elephants are thus sufficiently subdued, they set up the bridge again, and the tame elephants entering the place commence a fierce contest with the wild ones, which naturally terminates in favour of the tame animals, as their opponents are quite exhausted by what they have suffered. The riders now getting down from their elephants tie the feet of the wild ones, while they are in this helpless state, and then urge the tame animals to beat them till they fall down. The next process is to put ropes round their necks and to mount them as they lie on the ground. To prevent the elephants, however, from throwing off their riders or doing any other mischief, they make an incision with a sharp knife in the skin of the neck all round, and fit the rope into it, that the pain from the sore may make the animals keep their heads steady. The elephants being thus compelled to remain quiet, and feeling that they are subdued, are led by a rope which is attached to the tame ones. "All the young elephants, and those that are not worth having, the huntsmen let go. The rest are taken to the villages, where they give them green reeds and grass; but at first they refuse to eat, being quite dispirited and sorrowful. The Indians in the mean time stand round and endeavour to soothe them by singing, and cymbals and drums." * Arrian on India, cap. 13. Distinction between Invention and Discovery.-The object of the former is to produce something which had no existence before; that of the latter, to bring to light something which did exist, but which was concealed from common observation. Thus we say, Otto Guericke invented the airpump; Sanctorius invented the thermometer; Newton and Gregory invented the reflecting telescope; Galileo discovered the solar spots; and Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood. It appears, therefore, that improvements in the arts are properly called inventions; and that facts brought to light by means of observation, are properly called discoveries.-Dugald Stewart. miserable hut, on the banks of the river Awatska; the guests A Chord struck.-Whilst we were at dinner, in this of a people with whose existence we had before been scarce acquainted, and at the extremity of the habitable globe: a solitary, half-worn, pewter spoon, whose shape was familiar to us, attracted our attention; and, on examination, we found it stamped on the back with the word London. I cannot pass over this circumstance in silence, out of gratitude for the many pleasant thoughts, the anxious hopes, and tender remembrances, it excited in us. Those who have experienced the effects that long absence and extreme distance from their native country produce on the mind, will readily conceive the pleasure such a trifling incident can give.-King's Voyages. Logarithms.-Logarithms in calculation are like the steam-engine in mechanics. They enable the calculator to overcome every obstacle, and render the most intricate combinations of number comparatively easy. Before the time of Napier, their inventor, men devoted whole days to computation, which can now be accomplished in a few hours. The world imagine mathematicians to be mere calculators, whereas few calculate less, if the number of characters employed be regarded. By the aid of logarithms they are enabled with a very few figures to compute quantities which logarithms shortens nearly every calculation. would entirely baffle the ordinary arithmetician. The use of An Awkward Situation.—Mr. Slaney, in his little volume on British Birds, reviewed in our last number, quotes the following interesting adventure from Gilpin's admirable work the low flat shores in Hampshire, opposite the Isle of Wight; on Forest Scenery. The scene of the adventure was on the hero of it a wild-flowl shooter: "Mounted on his mud pattens, he was traversing one of these mud land plains in quest of ducks; and being only intent on his game, he suddenly found the waters, which had been brought forward with uncommon rapidity by some peculiar circumstance of tide, had made an alarming progress around him. To whatever part he ran, he found himself completely invested by the tide; a thought struck him, as the only hope of safety; he retired to that part which was yet uncovered with water, and sticking the barrel of his gun, (which, for the purpose of shooting wild-fowl, was very long,) deep into the mud, he resolved to hold fast by it as a support against the waves, and to wait the ebbing of the tide. A common tide, he had reason to believe, would not in that place have reached above his middle, but this was a spring-tide and brought forward by a strong westerly wind. The water had now reached him; it covered the ground on which he stood; it rippled over his feet; it gained his knees, his waist. Button after button was swallowed up, till at length it advanced over his very shoulders. With a palpitating heart he gave himself up for lost. Still, however, he held fast by his anchor: his eye was eagerly bent in search of some boat which might take its course that way; but none appeared. A solitary head, sometimes covered by a wave, was no object to be descried from shore at the distance of half a league. Whilst he was making up his mind to the terrors of certain destruction, his attention was called to a new object! He thought he saw the uppermost button of his coat begin to appear. No mariner could behold a cape at sea with greater transport than he did the uppermost button of his coat! But the fluctuation of the water was such, and the turn of the tide so slow, that it was yet some time before he durst venture to the flood. At length, however, a second button appearing at assure himself that the button was fairly above the level of intervals, his sensations may rather be conceived than described; and his joy gave him spirits and resolution to support his uneasy situation four or five hours longer, till the waters I had fully retired." IN passing down the Clyde, after having proceeded about fifteen miles from Glasgow, the traveller finds himself opposite to a very lofty dark-coloured rock, rising from the level sands, almost close to the right bank of the river. This is the Castle of Dunbarton. It appears to have been a military fortress almost from the first occupation of this part of the island. Under the name of Arcluid, or Aleluid (that is, the place on the Clyde), it is said to have been the capital first of a Caledonian, and afterwards of a British or Welsh kingdom, which was in early times established in this district. Its modern name, Dunbarton, there can be little doubt, is merely a corruption of Dunbritton, that is, the town of the Britons. Bede, who flourished in the beginning of the eighth century, speaks of it as the principal fortress which the Britons possessed in his days. When the Saxons extended their conquests to the north, all this district of Scotland, as far as to the Frith of Forth, was for a long time a sort of disputed territory, and was sometimes in the possession of the Saxons, and sometimes in that of their northern enemies, the Caledonians or Picts. The Saxon kingdom of Bernicia was considered as properly embracing the whole country to the banks of the Forth. Dunbarton, however, and probably other strongholds in the same region, were captured more than once from their nominal Saxon sovereigns by the more ancient occupants of the island. At last, however, in 756, Dunbarton, after having been for some years in the hands of the Picts, was recovered by Edbert, King of Northumberland, the garrison being obliged to surrender on account of want of provisions, and it continued for several ages afterwards to form a portion of the Saxon or English dominions. Some writers have thought it probable that Dunbarton was even occupied as a station by the Romans; and the tourist Pennant is convinced that the Roman fleet must have anchored, on one occasion, immediately under the rock. A fragment of an old building crowning one of the summits has been conjectured to be the remains of a Roman pharos or light-house. The rampart erected by Agricola between the Friths of Forth and Clyde, as well as that subsequently raised by Lollius Urbicus, the lieutenant of Antoninus Pius, nearly in the same direction, terminated in this neighbourhood; and traces of the latter (popularly known by the name of Graham Dyke) are still to be seen not far from the town of Dunbarton. The town stands on the left or east bank of the Leven, about three-quarters of a mile to the north of the Castle, which is situated at the confluence of that river with the Clyde. On occasion of an unusually high tide, the rock is sometimes quite insulated-but in general the ground is dry between it and the town. Dunbarton was made a royal burgh by Alexander II. in 1221. The rock itselt was wont to be looked upon as the key to the western highlands, and as therefore one of the most important of the Scottish fortresses. It is, as we have mentioned, of very great height; and about half way up it divides, and forms two summits, with a large chasm or hollow between. In this hollow is a well, about fourteen feet deep, which affords a constant supply of water. Dunbarton certainly would not now stand a well-conducted assault above a few hours; but it used to be deemed all but inaccessible, and therefore impregnable, except by the expedient of starving the garrison. There was anciently a tract by which it could be ascended from the northern side; but that has been long built up; and the only ac cess to the buildings now is from the south. Of these buildings the principal is the governor's house, which is fortified by a few cannon. The garrison consists merely of a small number of invalids. Amply protected, however, by nature against both force and stratagem as Dunbarton Castle was deemed to be, it was once taken by assault; and the exploit is altogether one of the most extraordinary on record. In 1571 a truce had been arranged between the adherents of the Scottish Queen, Mary, and her opponents, or, as they called themselves, the party of the King, her son. It expired on the 1st of April. The Regent, or head of the insurgents, at this time was the old Earl of Lennox, the grandfather of the young King. According to some accounts it was the Regent himself who devised the |