CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL.

ample care had been taken for the instruction of her pupils in other branches of polite female education. The professorial power of the establishment in the Rue des Demoiselles was immense; and the little army of gentlemen in white cravats and spectaclesall the literary gentlemen wore gold spectacles-was enough to make one feel learned and accomplished to look at them. There was 'Monsieur le Professeur de Littérature Française,' a bald-headed little man, evidently duly impressed with a sense of his own importance, and bursting with the beau discours which it would be his duty and delight shortly to pronounce. There was Monsieur le Professeur de Géographie et Cosmographie,' whose duty it was that evening to look wise, which he did-as an owl in spectacles. There were 'Messieurs les Professeurs' of History, of Natural Philosophy, of Writing and Arithmetic, of English, of Italian, and of German; of the Piano, of the Harp, and of Singing; of Drawing, of Dancing, and even of 'Gymnastique,' which latter functionary was habited in the uniform of an officer of the 'Sapeurs-Pompiers,' and displayed on his well-stuffed breast the cross of the Legion of Honour. Nor must I forget to mention the gentleman-although his name did not appear amongst the list of professors-whose business it was to conduct the religious instruction of the pupils, and who prepared them for the examinations of Monsieur le Curé' himself. He appeared to be a kind of 'Professeur de Religion,' I suppose of the orthodox faith of the country; but I cannot help believing that Madame Bidamont de St Maur, rather than lose a pupil, would have undertaken that he should have catechised in any religion required, even if it were that of a Turk or a Hindoo. La religion, at Number 8, was regarded, I fancy, pretty much in the same light as la danse, la gymnastique, or any other étude. The keeper and director of all the consciences of the establishment, the curé of the parish, was also present, and appeared to enjoy himself as much as anybody. No doubt, the distributions des prix at the ladies' schools to which he was invited, were looked forward to by him almost as joyfully as by the girls themselves. On all other occasions, his profession forbade him to be present at a soirée where he might enjoy the society of the fair sex.

Madame Bidamont de St Maur now takes her seat on one side of the table on which are displayed the various prizes, supported by Monsieur le Professeur de Littérature Française on the other. The smiling curé places himself on her right hand, the professors and teachers group themselves around, and, at a given signal, the 'young ladies'-between sixty and seventy in number-enter in due order. They are as well drilled as a corps-de-ballet, and are all dressed precisely alike in white muslin; each class being distinguished by broad sashes and bands across the shoulders of different coloured ribbons. They enter two and two, beginning with the youngest, and gradually rising to the 'finished' young lady, who, in all probability, has a bon parti, a desirable match, looked out for her as soon as she reaches home. Each pair formally salute the company, and then, dropping two folded papers into a gilt urn placed ready to receive them, take their places on the crimson-covered benches. When all are seated, the spectacle is as charming a one as the eye need to look upon. The many-coloured ribbons which served to distinguish the classes, divided the mass of white muslin, and the crowd of fresh young faces, into parterres as brilliant as ever the most cunning The gayest beds of tulips gardener could devise. and ranunculuses would have lost by comparison with them. Madame Bidamont de St Maur had already made a hit. The drilling and dressing had answered the purpose intended. All the mammas, by a process of ratiocination peculiar to the maternal mind, put the effect the young ladies produced in the aggregate

were therefore more than ever convinced that madame
down to the sole credit of their own daughters; and
was a most charming woman.

We had been greatly mystified by the dropping of
the folded pieces of paper into the gilt urn, but the
explanation was at hand. As soon as the last paper
had been deposited, the urn was carried to the table,
at which sat madame and the professor, and its con-
tents being emptied out, the voting papers-for such
they were-were examined and counted by them. The
pupil who had gained the most votes was to be pre-
sented with the couronne blanche-the prize for good
conduct, to be by her worn during the evening. This
prize, by which it was intended to reward and honour
the most amiable girl in the school, the girl best loved
by her companions, and the girl whom we should call
the best behaved-not the cleverest-was not con-
ferred, nominally at least, by the favour of madame;
or after grave consultations, like many of the other
prizes, between Monsieur le Curé and several of the
gentlemen in spectacles. The couronne blanche was
awarded by the girls themselves; and as Madame
Bidamont de St Maur never failed to turn to the best
account every opportunity of producing a dramatic
effect, the election took place by universal suffrage and
vote by ballot, on the evening of the distribution.
Whether these panaceas for all the ills which humanity,
political and administrative, is heir to, secured the
placing of the right girl in the right place on this occa-
sion, is more than I will undertake to say. It may be
also that the secrets of the urn were not so well kept
as our ballot society would desire, and that, after all,
the election was more or less the result of 'legitimate
influence.'

All I know for certain is, that the learned professor, after carefully counting the voting papers, declared that the choice of the electors had fallen on Mademoiselle Blanche de Bonneval; and that a very pretty girl, answering to that name, rose from her place, and advanced, blushing, to the table, amidst the unanimous plaudits of the spectators. The couronne blanche was handed to her with a few kind expressions, by no less a personage than Monsieur le Curé; and then, kneeling at the feet of Madame Bidamont de St Maur, the much-coveted wreath was fastened on her brow by that lady, who, affectionately embracing her, sent her back, more deeply blushing, and still more loudly applauded, to her constituents. As I have said, there may have been legitimate influence at work in spite of universal suffrage and the ballot; and, at the best, it is more than probable that the contest gave rise to petty jealousies and heart-burnings, and intrigues amongst the white-robed electors. But the effect of the election and the crowning of the chosen one was admirable. Madame Bidamont de St Maur may have waked feelings in the hearts of some of her pupils which would have been roused only too soon by contact with the world, but she had made another decided hit.

The choosing of the couronne blanche being thus concluded with all the éclat that could be desired, the young ladies displayed their musical accomplishments in a concert at which they were the sole performers. It commenced with a grand chaur, in which some thirty or forty of the girls took part, and which had been composed expressly for the occasion-the words by Monsieur le Professeur de Littérature Française, and the music by Monsieur le Professeur de Chant. The latter professor of course presided at the piano, and had every reason to be contented with the effect of his composition. Indeed, nothing could be prettier in its way than the effect produced by the fresh and well-trained voices of his pupils. As to the part which the other professor had had in this chorus-the words

from the few which reached my Britannic tympanum with sufficient distinctness for comprehension, I judge that the opportunity for a puff had not been

trebles; and sometimes the rattling of the small-arms is so sharp and quick, that it fairly dominates the heavy artillery; and thus from pianissimo to piano, from forte to fortissimo, and ffff isissimo, and far beyond what it is in the power of ordinary language musical to express, the grand morceau went on to its conclusion in a crash which nearly deafened the hearers. Need I say that the success was commensurate with the concluding noise? It always is so. The caterer of popular music who can contrive to make a piece end with the explosion of a powder-magazine, or the bursting of a boiler, will probably make a fortune.

The noise and fury of the jinale, the do of the prima donna, and the pretty scene of the election of the couronne blanche, had put everybody in a good humour for the real business of the evening-the distribution of the prizes. At last, then, the time had arrived for Monsieur le Professeur de Littérature Française to disburden himself of the beau discours which had long weighed so heavily upon him. AdjustFrenchman seldom speaks-to the following effect.

wasted; and that the chorus were made to sing of the delights of study in general, and of the merits of 'Numéro 8 bis' in particular. The chorus was followed by a solo on the harp, a nervous affair for the poor soloist; for when performing on this instrument, there is no possibility of half hiding one's self behind the music. The harpist is exposed from head to foot to the criticism of the company, and inelegance in playing is almost as fatal as want of skill. Madame Bidamont de St Maur, however, prided herself above all things on imparting elegance of manner to her pupils, and the pose of such of them as learned to play on the harp was especially attended to. On this occasion, both grace and talent were conspicuous in the harpist, who was no other than the pretty couronne blanche. She fully merited the hearty round of applause which she received when she courtesied and made way for a stately, dark-eyed girl, with a tragic cast of countenance, the prima donna of the pension, and the pet pupil of Monsieur le Professeur de Chant. Great things were expected of this damsel, and expecting his gold spectacles, he spoke, or rather read-a ation was not disappointed. Her style of singing was certainly not to my taste, but I was in a woful minority on that question; for when this prima donna of sixteen, by the aid of a violent jerk of the head, a frightful contortion of the mouth, and a sudden straightening of the arms, got up as high as do-my wife said it was do-the whole room burst into a storm of acclamations, and the face of Monsieur le Professeur de Chant absolutely beamed with delight. The prima donna was the trump card in the vocal department of the concert; but a charming little blonde who sang next, pleased me infinitely more. She sang a simple ballad with taste and feeling, and, to my mind, was not half so much applauded as she deserved to be.

But the great hit in the concert, not even excepting the roulades, the screams, and the contortions of the prima donna, was the morceau with which it concluded. This was a 'grande fantasie pour six pianos et douze executantes'- -a grand fantasia for six pianos and twelve performers, arranged expressly for this solemnity by Monsieur le Professeur de Piano. Half-adozen cottage pianos-we may thank Heaven they were not grands-are wheeled from the adjoining rooms, and ranged back to back in the centre of the gallery, like line-of-battle ships prepared for action. Twelve music-stools are placed before them; a dozen pensionnaires take their seats thereon, and twelve pair of hands, ninety-six crooked fingers, and fourand-twenty bent thumbs suspended over the keyboards, await but the signal to commence the attack. As Monsieur le Professeur de Piano takes his place between the two lines of instruments, curiosity is at its height. The stillness is like the breathless silence we hear of as usual just before hostile fleets open on one another their thousand iron throats. Monsieur le Professeur is evidently impressed with the solemnity of the moment: he taps once on the nearest piano; his white-gloved hand saws the air, up, down, and across, after the manner of musical commanders. 'Un-deux -trois-quatre;' up goes the white glove, and-but what a disappointment to the ear! Instead of a terrific onslaught on the six instruments by the whole body of performers with their two dozen hands, and their ten dozen fingers and thumbs, a single hand begins piano, pianissimo, somewhere far down in the bass. Instead of the thundering broadside from every ship which we all expected with trembling curiosity, a feeble rumbling only is heard on the extreme left. Presently, however, another hand comes into play, and then another and another; one vessel after another gets into action, and soon a tremendous cannonade is kept up along both lines. Sometimes the big guns of the six basses are worked so vigorously that they completely drown the pattering musketry of the six

After telling us with what pleasure he performed his duty on that occasion, because of the very favourable report he had to give of the progress made during the past year, he entered into a detailed account of what had been done by each class in each branch of study. Then, in well-rounded and sonorous phrases, he expatiated on the delights of knowledge, and reminded his young friends of the immense advantages they enjoyed at 'Numéro 8 bis, Avenue des Demoiselles,' where professors of grand talent, and a lady watching over them with soins tous maternels, were unceasingly endeavouring to accomplish the most ardent hopes of their dear parents. In short, he delivered himself of a discours which, as he meant that it should, pleased everybody. When he alluded to the motherly care of Madame Bidamont de St Maur, and spoke of the sacrifices and exertions before which she would not shrink in order to assure herself of the happiness and wellbeing of her pupils,' what a capital puff it was in the ears of the anxious parents present! When he ran through the whole list of studies, from cosmographie to la gymnastique, and one big word after another rolled out of his mouth or twanged from his nose as the pronuncial exigencies of his native Gallic required, it seemed that No. 8 was a fountain of all knowledge, and a source of every fashionable accomplishment. satisfactory, too, this report of the progress made by the pupils; how gratifying to all parties the announcement that this year' the conduct of all had been most satisfactory; how pleasing to find that, from the department of elementary theology-the catechism

How

to that of la danse-'that elegant accomplishment more than ever necessary to those destined to mix in the brilliant society of our time'-the young ladies had surpassed the expectations of their professors. No wonder that, capping his lucid statement of all these agreeable facts with a magnificent peroration, the learned professor concluded a speech more than half an hour long amidst the acclamations of all present.

Then came madame's turn to make a speech, and very well she did it too-saying, not reading, what she had to say in a ladylike, conversational style, which was really very pleasing to listen to. Of course, she addressed her pupils as mes chères enfants, and assured them how much she had their temporal and eternal welfare at heart. She had a kind word for all of them; for those who were going to leave her not to return, and for those whom she hoped to see again after the vacances. She flattered herself that she had earned, as she had striven to merit, their confidence and affection. She assured them of the deep interest she should always feel for them, whatever Dieu should

CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL.

have in store for her; and wishing them all an affec- Rye, although of nearly the same composition, has
tionate adieu, in a voice nicely modulated to express less tenacity in the gluten, and the bread made from
just the fitting degree of emotion, sat down, having it has therefore less lightness; while oatmeal, although
convinced her guests that she was not only charming much richer in gluten than fine wheaten flour, has so
and amiable, but très spirituelle as well. The vigour little tenacity as to be quite incapable of being baked
and evident heartiness with which her pupils applauded into a spongy loaf at all.
her little speech throughout, proved at any rate that
she was popular with them, and that if circumstances
made her worldly, her nature was not unkindly.

A flutter of expectation now ran through the ranks
of the pensionnaires, for the prizes were about to be
given. Madame took up a roll of paper, and saying:
It is now my pleasing duty to announce the names of
those young ladies who have been thought worthy of a
reward for diligence in their various studies,' or rather
the French equivalent for that phrase, the distribution
of the prizes at once commenced. Each recipient, on
her name being called, walked up to the table, and
having been crowned with an ivy wreath, received her
prize, and returned to her place. The first prize
awarded in the first class was for 'Littérature Fran-
çaise et Style;' the second, for history; and so on to
singing, dancing, and the polka. In those days, polka-
ing was just coming into fashion, and the giving of a
prettily dressed doll to a pretty child of seven, a great
pet of the whole school, as a prize for her proficiency
in this much-talked-of dance, created quite a sensation,
as doubtless it was intended it should. Though, of
course, not to be taken au sérieux, the prix de polka was
one of the most successful strokes of the evening. The
remarks which the professor of 'Littérature Française'
had made as to the progress of the young ladies in
their various studies, were fully borne out by the num-
ber of prizes which it had been thought advisable to
award. I think that every pupil had at least one, and
some had as many as half a dozen, so that they all
went home rejoicing, and every mamma was more or
less content.

The prizes having all been distributed, the affair, after a few more well-chosen words from madame, was over. The girls came down from their seats, and mingled with their friends and relatives. Books were eagerly held up for the inspection of admiring parents, and the little prix de polka became the subject of universal attention. Madame Bidamont de St Maur received on all sides well-merited compliments on the result of her exertions; and Monsieur and Madame Smit, amused rather than captivated, departed in their citadine for the Hôtel des Bouledogues Britanniques.

IMPROVEMENT IN BREAD-BAKING. A NEW process of bread-baking, the invention of Dr Dauglish of Malvern, is at present undergoing a course of successful experiment at the works of the Messrs Carr in Carlisle, and promises to effect at once an improvement in quality and the saving of about a tenth of material. The idea proceeded upon is not new-that has been long known, and frequently made the subject of experiment; but the process by which the theory can be successfully reduced to practice is now for the first time brought forward.

When the dough, mixed with yeast, under the old system, is placed in a warm atmosphere, in an hour or two it begins to rise or swell, in consequence of a portion of its starch being converted into sugar, and this changed into alcohol and carbonic acid. The gas permeates the dough, forming, in its efforts to escape, little cells, where it is imprisoned by the tenacity of the gluten, which forms about 10 per cent. of fine flour. It is this mechanical peculiarity of wheaten flour which has made it the chief food of mankind.

When the dough is placed in the oven, the fermentation goes on more rapidly; the little cells grow into large bubbles; the alcohol escapes and is dissipated; till at length, when the heat is about the boilingpoint, it kills the yeast, and the fermentation is suddenly at an end. The use of the yeast is to evolve we see, it can do only at the expense of the dough, gas in order to give lightness to the bread; but this, To save this waste, it was necessary to charge the by first converting a portion of its starch into sugar. dough with ready-made (carbonic acid) gas, instead of making the gas of its own substance; and this was repeatedly tried by mixing the flour with aërated water, but with no good result, since, in the very act of mixing, the gas escaped. In this stage of the business, Dr Dauglish conceived the idea of employing, in the This, in point of fact, is his operation of mixing, sufficient pressure to prevent the escape of the gas. invention; but a vast deal of patient ingenuity, was required to make it work practically. In a wellwritten article on the subject in a local paper, the Carlisle Examiner, the following account is given of the apparatus and its action: 'The apparatus constructed at the works in Caldewgate consists of the ordinary gas generator and holder used by soda-water makers, and of a set of powerful pumps, for forcing the gas into the water contained in a condenser; also, for pumping a pressure-that is, a volume of gas-into a kneading or mixing vessel, which is a strong iron globe, capable of containing more than two sacks of flour, and furnished with arms revolving by steampower. To work the apparatus, flour is put into the mixer, and water into the condenser, the pumps set to work, and, when sufficient gas has been pumped into these vessels, the water is let into the mixer, and the arms set agoing. In eight minutes, the dough is mixed. The pressure is then let off, and the dough rises instantaneously. Thus, in about half an hour, the usually tedious and uncertain process of breadmaking has been accomplished, and there has also been effected the saving of that precious tenth of nutritious matter which would have been wasted in exhalation, or by conversion into alcohol. The baker is delivered from the hard necessity of setting his bread at night, and watching for its rising in the morning. Alternations of cold and heat are rendered powerless over the heaviness or lightness of our breakfast-loaves. Time, labour, and material are saved, and thus bread rendered both purer and cheaper.'

But there is something of importance in breadOur be constructed on a good principle, or every other making besides raising the dough. The oven must advantage will, to a certain extent, be lost. present oven has come down to us as an heirloom from our ancestors, and we have never thought of examining it by the lights of science. In the Carlisle experiments, however, it was found that the bread, however It was ably what might have been expected, and this led to artistically made by the new process, was not invarian inquiry into the principle of the oven. discovered that the heated vaults we use for the purpose, in which the heat radiates down upon the bread, are unfavourable to lightness; whereas in Paris and Vienna, where the heat rises from the bottom, and

passes through the loaf, the top-crust is soft, and the bread as spongy as is desirable. On this latter principle, therefore-new, we believe, in England-the ovens were constructed for the unfermented bread.

We may add, as something that will appear curious to many of our readers, that the bulk of light bread-or rather, the space it fills-is but one-sixth solid matter, and five-sixths aëriform, and that, consequently, very high pressures are needed to make such light bread.' These pressures, however, are so effectual by the new process, that even when the dough is rolled out into biscuit, it retains the gas in minute cells, and thus a novel and superior kind of bread is produced under a familiar name. This has struck Messrs Carr & Co. so much, that we believe it is their intention to confine the use of the apparatus to their original occupation-the manufacture of biscuit; although their doing so will not exclude the public from the advantage of the invention in their daily bread, since it is Dr Dauglish's intention to treat liberally with all who desire to avail themselves of his patent.

THE BLUE CAV E.

ticated superstition. I would not maintain upon oath that he believed absolutely in Orcus and the Sybil; but there were ideas in his mind, connected with ancient creeds, which dominated all his thoughts, and imparted a peculiar colour to his faith. Our two boatmen-which, however, is no marvel-were to the full as much under the influence of ancient superstitions as himself. Paganism had come down to them as a sort of secret inheritance, of light or darkness penetrating through their everyday belief, until it reach much further down into their minds, where it underlay all their notions and imaginings, and impressed upon their characters an extremely peculiar stamp. They were afraid of the night, afraid of the moon, afraid of the shadowy figures which the wood-crowned islands threw here and there upon the surface of the deep. It seemed to them that by disturbing at such hours the gentle ripples with our oars, we were guilty of something like sacrilege, towards what power they could not tell, or would not, for perhaps in their hearts they had familiarised their apprehensions much more distinctly than they chose to acknowledge. Nemesis bears a wide sway over the earth, but more especially enfolds the Mediterranean with her broad wings. There she resumes every night her ancient empire, and makes the hearts of all who go abroad beneath the sky pant and thrill with a consciousness of her presence.

Let

We had just rowed by Castel-a-mare, when the doctor round to me and said: You mentioned to me yester-a sudden thought apparently striking him-turned day that you had never visited the Blue Cave. us do so now. The play of colours is more marvellous by day; but the sense of solitude, the silence, the mingling of light and shadow, the movement and murmur of the half-fabulous water, will be more exciting, more charming by far at this delicious hour." I assented readily, and we moved on. It is no doubt in which we sit forms the point of contact between two very common to imagine at such times that the boat universes-the universe above, and the counterpart of the same universe below-and that we are upheld and borne along by we know not what power between these two systems of existence; touching neither,

WHOEVER has travelled much in the south, must have necessarily made the observation, that in certain states of the atmosphere everything around you appears startlingly unreal. Here, in the north, the world has a substantial aspect about it. You look upon it, you touch it, and you are fully persuaded of its permanence and solidity. But as you approach the extremity of the temperate zone, you often appear to be floating through a delusive creation, which expands, and gleams, and scintillates about you; now immersed in light, now enveloped with shadow; now contracting, now dilating, until your imagination becomes a prey to a sort of dim scepticism independent altogether of reason. At all events, this is what I myself have often experienced, when hovering in dreamy abstraction about the shores north and south of the Mediterranean. Our existence is divided everywhere into two very distinct parts-the life of the day, and the life of the night-mingling with neither, yet powerfully acted upon which, to the least poetical and fanciful of our species, must necessarily be distinguished by striking contrasts

from each other.

I had a friend at Naples, somewhat old even when we first met, who seemed in his experience to have reversed the great principles of life. Having been solid, logical, and somewhat material in his youth, he had become romantic and imaginative as he advanced in years. To him, nothing was so delightful as to contemplate the universe as a sort of diversified mirage, moulded by the plastic power of the soul into infinite variety, and stretched out like a fantastic picture beneath the moon. Lazy people are everywhere the best adapted to keep alive this sort of dreamy propensity; and the Neapolitans being pre-eminently lazy, my worthy friend found the paradise of his fancy in the Bay of Naples, where, with a couple of boatmen at his command, he used frequently to put forth soon after nightfall, and move about in silence over the gleaming waters, and between those lofty and fantastic islands which, studding the whole distance from Misene to Sorrento, cut off the Bay from the Mediterranean. During my stay, I accompanied him more than once on these moonlight excursions.

The doctor-for my friend had studied divinity, and risen to a high position in the church-was, in spite of his profession and the duties it devolved upon him, considerably more than half a pagan; not as scholars often are, through a mere learned deference to the freaks of the imagination, but from genuine, unsophis

by the influences of both. The water was still and ent. We looked down into it, and far away in its smooth as glass, and seemingly far more transparunfathomable depths beheld moon and planets, and constellations flinging towards each other their golden light, until the concave was one blaze of splendour. Above, the eye was encountered by the same phenomena. For a while, no one uttered a word. The sailors moved backwards and forwards; the oars dipped, bright drops, like showers of molten pearl, rained over forward, and shores, woods, islands flew past as in the them as they ascended into the air; the boat moved panorama of a dream. Here and there, a long way off, lights twinkled between the trees; and as we moved among the islands, vast piles of masonry like prisons rose high among the rocks. I was not ignorant that thousands of brave hearts, in anguish and bitterness, were at that very moment throbbing freely within. Their owners had dared to dream of improving the social condition of their countrymen, and this, in most parts of the world, being a crime, they were expiating their proud fancies upon an insufficient supply of bread and water in those dungeons. But under the inspiration of the picturesque, we sometimes become hardhearted, or else discover the knack of escaping from painful topics to enjoy the beauty that is before us. At anyrate, we were not so sad as might have been expected, and approached the precipices of Capri quite in the humour to enjoy all their grandeur. We had shot out a little into the Mediterranean to the northwest of Capri, and there paused a while to gaze at that mimic Alp thrusting up its rugged bulk out of