for need of a pilot and one or two other points, had no system of signals till 1817, when Captain Marryat, R. N., published the code still known by his name. This system came into extensive use in Britain, and, with modifications, was adopted in France, the United States, and other countries. It differs little from the code of Sir Home Popham, operating by means of flags representing figures; and the perplexities and difficulties attending its use increased with increasing commerce, and were more and more felt as other means of communication advanced towards perfection. Accordingly, in 1855, the Board of Trade appointed a committee of officers and gentlemen connected with the royal and mercantile marine to inquire into and report upon the subject of a code of signals to be used

at sea.'

One essential step had already been taken, without which no radical reform would have been possible. Perhaps the most frequent subject of communication at sea is the name of the vessel. Now we all know how little it does in individualising a man to tell us that his name is John Smith; and the case is much the same with ships. Thus there are endless Marys in the marine of Great Britain, and sometimes several belonging to the same port. In order to identify a ship, so as to distinguish her from others of the same name, it was therefore necessary to make known not only her name, but her port of registry, and number, and year of registry. Again, it often happened that ships, when sold, changed their port of registry, obtained a new number, and even a new name, in their new port, and so their characters were altogether changed.' Thus to individualise a vessel required repeated hoists of a variety of signals; and the operation, being tedious and troublesome, was often omitted when the communication would have been desirable. This evil was effectually remedied by the Merchant Shipping Act of 1854, which provides that every registered British vessel shall have a distinct number, in addition to her local number in a particular port. This 'official number' is permanently marked on the vessel's mainbeam, and remains invariable through all changes of port or ownership; and in the Mercantile Navy List, now published by authority annually, and with monthly supplements, the official numbers are placed in order against the vessels to which they belong. If such an official number, then, is signaled by symbols agreed upon, whoever has a copy of the shipping list can know, without a risk of mistake, what ship is meant.

This preliminary matter being settled, the committee above named resolved to reject the numeral system of signals, and have recourse to letters. In the code of signals contrived by them, eighteen flags are used, all readily distinguishable from one another by means of shape and colour, and each flag is made to represent one of the eighteen consonants of the English alphabet. The letters, be it remembered, are not used as letters to represent sounds, but as signs, to which arbitrary meanings are affixed. Let us see now how many distinct signals can be made with these eighteen flags. To begin with signals of two flags, single signs not being reckoned. The pair of flags, B and C, will form two signals, meaning one thing when B is uppermost, and another when C is uppermost; the same is the case with the pair B and D; and thus by ringing the changes on all the possible pairs, any one that will take the pains to try will find that no fewer than 306 permutations or distinct signals can be formed. In like manner, by hoisting three flags at a time, we get 4896 different permutations; and with hoists of four flags at a time, the permutations amount to 73,440. If it were convenient to use five flags at once, as many as 1,028,160 would be got; but as it is practically found essential that a signal be made at one hoist, with the flags all in a row, one above another, the employment

of more than four flags for one signal is liable to serious objections, and the necessity of this in the numeral systems was one of their chief faults. Confining the grouping of the flags or the letters they symbolise, then, to hoists of two, three, and four, the total number of distinct signals afforded is 78,642. A large proportion of these signals requires to be appropriated to telegraphing the official numbers of the ships composing the mercantile navy of Great Britain. The present number of registered vessels is about 35,000, and to provide for increase, and for the numbers vacant between their lapse, owing to the loss or condemnation of the ship, and their appropriation to new vessels, a range of 50,000 numbers must be provided, each with its own signal. These signals for numbers are all composed of four signs; and they have a distinctive character given them by being so contrived that the uppermost symbol in the hoist is always a square flag. In the Mercantile Navy List, containing the name and official number of every registered ship, there is joined with the official number its appropriated signal of four letters, corresponding with four flags, the numbers being arranged successively, and the single letters alphabetically, so that either the number or the letters signifying it are readily found. In this way, 'if the whole mercantile navy of Great Britain were at anchor together, and every vessel making her number at the same time, each one might be individualised by the four distinguishing flags composing her special signal.'

After providing for signaling the numbers of vessels, the system leaves upwards of 20,000 distinct signals for general subjects. In the 'Commercial Code of Signals for the Use of All Nations,' drawn up by the committee already spoken of, and published by authority of the Board of Trade, these subjects are classified, and each word or sentence has its appropriate symbol or group of letters prefixed. The ingenious arrangements by which simplicity in the act of signaling and ease of reference and interpretation are secured, could not be made intelligible unless the reader had the book in his hand. But one feature of the system deserves special notice-namely, that it is calculated to be international. The letters corresponding to the flags, not being used to spell words, but to signify things, their meaning is the same whether displayed from an English or from a French ship; in the French signalbook, the meaning of the symbols would of course be expressed in French. This is a real step towards a universal language; and it is earnestly to be hoped that before long the system will be in general use all over the world. The commercial code has been strongly recommended by the committee of Lloyd's, and by the ship-owners' associations of London and Liverpool; and active means are being taken to provide vessels with the necessary signals and books, and to secure its speedy and general adoption. It appears that the flags used in Marryat's code can, with the addition of four new ones, be applied to the commercial code, and that in the present state, captains of ships may, without much difficulty, avail themselves of either, as necessity requires.* It ought also to be mentioned, that a book of tables has been published, called the Companion to the Commercial Code of Signals, and henceforth to form part of the library of every ship-captain; by means of which, one ship may communicate to another, in one signal of three flags, the latitude or longitude, a matter often of vital moment. Who will say now that mariners have not their telegraph, as well as landsmen?

See Sea-signals Assimilated (Charles Wilson, London): a tract, price 1s., containing a full account of the whole subject. It is drawn up, we presume, under the auspices of Mr J. H. Brown, Registrar-general of Seamen, who has been a prime mover in this and other recent measures for the improvement of our mercantile marine.

64

VICTORIA BRIDGE AT MONTREAL. IMAGINE a bridge seven times and a half longer than Waterloo Bridge, or not a great deal less (176 feet) than two miles; imagine the span between the central piers to be 330 feet wide, and the other spans-twenty-four of them-242 feet; imagine this bridge to be a tube, like the one over the Menai Strait; and you will have a general idea of a work now actually in progress-the Victoria Bridge at Montreal. But the idea will be a very vague one; and to bring it more into shape, you must imagine that the river spanned by the monster tube runs frequently at the rate of ten miles an hour, and that it brings down the ice of 2000 miles of lakes and upper rivers with numerous tributaries, and piles it at Montreal to the height of thirty-forty-fifty feet. You will now obtain a notion of the necessary thickness and solidity of the work, and be able to suppose piers or supports, containing some 6000, and some 8000 tons of masonry. The whole weight of masonry in the bridge, when completed, will be about 220,000 tons, and the bulk three million cubic feet. The faces of the piers looking towards the current, terminate in a sharp-pointed edge, while the sides present to the avalanches of ice only smooth, bevelledoff surfaces. The stone is a dense blue limestone; 'scarcely a block of which,' says the Canadian News, from which we obtain these particulars, is less than seven tons weight, and many of those exposed to the force of the The blocks are breaking-up ice weigh fully ten tons. bound together, not only by the use of the best watercement, but each stone is clamped to its neighbours in several places by massive iron rivets, bored several inches into each block, and the interstices between the rivet and the block are made one solid mass by means of molten lead.' The tubes will be from nineteen feet high to twentytwo and a half feet in the centre, and their uniform width will be sixteen feet, the rail-track being five feet six inches, the national railway-gauge of Canada. The total weight of The bridge, it is caliron in the tube will be 10,400 tons. culated, will cost altogether about L.1,250,000. Mr Robert Stephenson and Mr M. A. Ross are the architects of this great work, and Messrs Peto, Brassey, and Betts the contractors. There can be no doubt,' says the Canadian News, that without the Victoria Bridge, the large and comprehensive traffic-system involved in the construction of the Grand Trunk Railway could only be partially, and, by comparison, ineffectually carried out at a very great cost. Montreal is the terminal point of the ocean-navigation, and is connected with the Lower St Lawrence and the ocean on one side, and with the great Canadian and American lakes-extending 2000 miles into the heart of the continent-on the other. It is also the centre from which lines of railway now radiate to Portland, Boston, and New York, and to which lines will converge from the Ottawa and the other rich, though as yet only partially developed districts of Canada.'

A RICHMOND DINNER THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. We find, in the Lansdowne manuscripts, that about Christmas 1509, certain officials of the court of King Henry VIII. dined together at the village of Shene, now called Richmond; and that at the end of the entertainment, my host of the Star and Garter, with many salutations, handed to them the following bill: For brede, 12d.; ale, 3s. 4d.; wyne, 10d.; two leynes moton, 8d.; maribones, 6d.; powdred beef, 5d.; two capons, 2s.; two geese, 14d.; five conyes, 15d.; one legge moton, 5 lb. weight, 4d.; six plovers, 18d.; six pegions, 5d.; two dozen larkes, 12d.; salt and sauce, 6d.; buter and eggs, 10d.; wardens and quynces, 12d.; herbes, 1d.; spices, 2s. 4d.; floure, 4d.; whight cuppes and cruses, 6d. which, summed up, gives exactly L.1 sterling as the total expenses of this aldermanic feast. Many a party, gentle and simple, has since that time dined at the Star and Garter, but none ever got so many substantial things for their twenty shillings as the subjects of young King Henry VIII.-The Statesman.

A LAY OF LUCKNOW. ASLEEP!-amid the awful thunder

That speaks of coming doom, While swarming hosts of fiendish foes Round Lucknow's fortress loom. Worn out by toil and sufferingDeath closing darkly roundThe daughters of the island-race Lay on the hard, cold ground.

The Englishwoman's troubled rest
Is broken fitfully;
But hushed in motionless repose,
The head upon her knee,
A Scottish woman pillowed there,
Dreams of the far-off home,
Where her old father from the plough
At eventide will come.

What sudden sound 'mid that wild roar
The charmed vision breaks,
As springing from her kindly couch,
The Highland woman wakes?
The Scottish ear-the Scottish heart
'Mid that stern din of war,

Hears the shrill Highland bagpipe speak-
The slogan sound afar!

'We're saved! I hear Macgregor's peal, Aye foremost in the fray

Oh, Highland hearts and hands are true;
We're saved this blessed day!'
She stands amid the hero band

Who wage the hopeless strife,
The harbinger of coming aid,
Of rescued love and life.

No. 213.

OF POPULAR

LITERATURE

THE ZEMINDA R.

Ar the present time, the landed aristocracy of India are invested with a more than common interest, and deserve something more than a mere passing notice. They hold in their hands the power of good and evil to an extent scarcely dreamed of in Europe, and for the reason, that in Asia all real power is highly despotic, especially in the provinces. If the petty trader, the writer, the agent, the broker, with a score of others of various grades and occupations, are constantly in the habit of tyrannising over those beneath them, how much more must we expect oppression from the allpowerful zemindar-the dispenser of life and property -the owner of not only all the broad acres within his zemindary, but of all the men, women, and children existing thereon.

In the northwest, it was long popularly supposed that civilisation had made great strides, that European ideas were fast triumphing over Asiatic prejudices and eastern habits, and that, in fact, the people were comparatively free, enlightened, and happy. Never was error more complete. Doubtless, more had been done by the government of the northwest towards preparing the people for better things, but in reality as little had been accomplished there as elsewhere. None but those who have laboured in an eastern climate know what it is to bear the heat of the day; none but those who have striven against the darkness and corruption of the Asiatic mind know how sadly slow the work progresses. Even the men for whom you are striving, the poor ryot, the oppressed trader, the poverty-stricken villager, all are dead against you. So strange are they to any generous sentiment, so shut out from sympathy with the rest of the world, that they cannot, they will not, place belief in the labours of the European in their behalf. They spurn the proffered aid; they turn away from protection, convinced in the dark recesses of their own diseased minds, that behind all the fair language and pleasant promises of the white man, there lurks some secret plot for their more complete bondage and destruction.

In reality, then, the tyrannical zemindar possesses fully as much power in the northwest as in Upper or Lower Bengal. We have said that he holds the power of life and property. This is not a mere figure of speech, but a stern, everyday matter of fact. The British authority is supposed to reign paramount over every other power within the limits of the Honourable Company's territories. Outwardly, this is indeed the case; but in reality it is a mere fiction. When the collector or the magistrate of the district passes through with a small army of retainers and native

PRICE 1d.

officials on revenue or judicial tours of inspection, all is deep deference to the English name, and for the time it is highly convenient to allow the fiction to pass current; but, once out of sight, all idea of British supremacy vanishes, and the reign of the native recommences-the zemindar is again all-powerful for good or for evil. Alas, how seldom for the former!

The zemindar owns the land on which tens of thousands of his fellow-men have their being, dwell, toil, and die; but not only does he claim the soil by which they live-he insists on his right to everything it produces over and above their most pressing wants for the support of life; nay, he even sets up a claim to their liberty and their life. All are his, according to the popular reading of the Indian Rights of Man. Wo to the Bengalee who dares to think otherwise! Sad and certain, indeed, would be his fate.

Of course, all of this class are not precisely similar in their characters, dispositions, and mode of managing their zemindaries. There are well-defined varieties of the species. I have known men of rather enlarged views upon general matters, who have had an English education, mixed much with European society, were au fait at European politics, and whom one might have expected to have governed their ryots not only with a lenient, generous rule, but in an enlightened manner: these men would have scorned any personal acts of oppression, yet they could never be brought to recognise the ryot's claim to anything beyond a mere animal existence, and often, by their indifference to their affairs, permitted the grossest acts of extortion and tyranny.

Short-sighted as their policy undoubtedly is, inasmuch as the ryot labours no more than he can possibly avoid under this exacting system, they cannot be brought to believe in the possibility of liberality inducing greater exertion, or in the European theory of a prosperous tenantry making a fat landlord. The screw is placed on wherever it is deemed expedient; and unfortunately for both landlord and tenant, it is generally thought to be expedient. When we speak of the screw,' we do so in no figurative language, but as having reference to the actual thing done and performed; not always, though frequently, by the zemindar personally, or of his own knowledge, but by the subordinates and middle-men of the estate, whose name is closely resembling that of legion.' The zemindar is feared rather than loved.

Sreenath Deb Chunder Roy, a zemindar of large possessions in Lower Bengal, and personally known to me, may be very fairly taken as a sample of the general run of these landed aristocrats of British India. Of commanding figure, noble features, and graceful easy manners, he is undoubtedly far above the majority

of his fellow-zemindars, in personal appearance. In activity and mental energy, he is perhaps superior to many of the class; but in the daily routine of his zemindary, and in the treatment of his ryots, he is the true type of the Bengal landlord.

Chunder Roy's zemindary lies in the rich valley of the Ganges: his own family resting-place is on the banks of that sacred stream. His castle stands amidst lofty trees and spacious meadows, commanding a view far up and down the stream. Within a short ride of the district town of Luckypore, his mansion is well placed both for purposes of his own zemindary and for general business; for Luckypore is an important town, to which vast numbers of baboos resort for trading, and where the zemindar can turn the various produce of his land and his ryots to the best account: where he can dispose of the sweat of their brows at the highest price per factory maund, and obtain the utmost marketable value for every seer, maund, and beegah of their bones and sinews squeezed out in the shape of jute, hemp, linseed, cotton, indigo, and sugar, to say nothing of saltpetre and a few common dye-stuffs. Viewed at some little distance, the castle and grounds of the zemindar wear a most imposing appearance. The building does not perhaps strike one as belonging to any particular order of house architecture, either eastern or western; but then it is extensive; there are large porticos, and no end of windows. The lofty trees, dotted about the grounds, give a park-like appearance to the place, while its general exterior is improved by the stately landingplace from the river-bank to the grounds, and the round white building, whatever it may chance to be, which abuts upon the river from one side of the ghât, with a flagstaff peering high above its walls, like a willow-wand against the deep azure of the sky.

The zemindar's grounds and house were planned by a first-rate English architect, and, if report speaks true, the work cost several lacs of rupees. Nativelike, however, Chunder Roy could not persuade himself to abide by the Englishman's plans, and accordingly clipped the verandahs of their fair proportions, stuck in loopholes instead of windows, allowed the gravel-walks and terraces to become overgrown and ruinous, so that what wears a very magnificent exterior at a mile distant, becomes a sort of deserted palatial prison at a closer inspection.

and patched with old tawdry relics of bygone splendour. One might well imagine his state-apartments to be the property-rooms of a third-rate London theatre. His own private rooms are small and filthy enough for any back-slums of old Edinburgh or ancient London, where the fresh air and the glorious light of day enter but through wooden traps and accidental slits in the wall, diluted with all kinds of effluvia and dimnesses. O the intolerable heat of that inner sanctuary of Chunder Roy! How tantalising the mimic punkalis, how aggravating the sight of the waving branches of huge green trees outside, bending gracefully to the noonday breeze!

As for his zenana, the rooms of the female portion of his family are never approached by man, unless he be a younger brother. What they are like, I once had an opportunity of judging during a very brief period when they were cleared out for some repairs. Rooms an Englishman would scarcely call them: cribs or dens for tame beasts would approach more nearly to their description. Furniture they have none. A few dowdy mats, some resayes or padded cotton quilts, a hookah or two, and a miserable, dimly burning lamp-these constitute the essentials of a Hindoo lady's apartment. I could not wonder the fever had compelled the zemindar to remove his family, and make some changes in the economy of his private rooms. The only marvel to my mind was that any member of the family had escaped the pestilence cooped up in those vile dungeons.

To behold our friend the zemindar cast off the daily dingy rag which scantily encircles his waist, don the ample flowing robes of white, the rich silken vest, the gay, many-folded head-dress, and sally forth from the inmost recesses of his dusty, reeking crib, and spring into his carriage, surrounded by armed and many vestured retainers-to behold this would appear almost as marvellous as Cinderella's transformation. Certainly Chunder Roy leaves behind him fully as much dirt as the young lady of the fairy tale.

The life of a zemindar in the mid districts of Bengal may fairly be set down as one of almost daily excitement. With as many cases to decide as any ordinary justice of the peace-with as many clients to see and converse with as a solicitor of fair reputation-with as many broils, lawsuits, and actual downright fights as an Irish tenant or an English blackleg, the Hindoo zemindar must necessarily lead a pretty active life, if he wishes to hold his own, to say nothing of holding his neighbour's, which, unfortunately, a considerable number of them have a national weakness for aiming at.

One day's work will suffice for a sample of most of the three hundred and odd days which-knocking off half of the Indian festivals-make up his year of business. A few disputes amongst his ryots about a brass totah, or somebody's wife, or a bullock, are soon disposed of; then come some land and tithe questions

But amidst all this, the zemindar is a happy, prosperous man. He dresses in the most approved fashion, drives horses of the best breed, feeds on the dainties of the land, and is housed, if not in courtly style and comfort, according to western ideas, at any rate in eastern palatial splendour. His suites of rooms are most extensive, though they are rather dimly lit by poor wooden casements, and entered by low doorways; his furniture and fittings were once of the most costly description; now they are faded, tattered,

their consequences, as the ryots find to their cost; then some question in which the government is mixed up has to be discussed, and the result is that 'Honourable John' is done, as completely as though he were a ryot.

It is rare, indeed, that a day passes without some plotting or scheming about land. This, indeed, is the great source of material wealth in India; and it is consequently the origin of half the lawsuits, and threefourths of the assaults, affrays, and murders in Upper and Lower Bengal. A neighbouring indigo-planter, one of the Company's European interlopers,' has perhaps made advances to some villagers to cultivate indigo for him on their lands, bringing him the plant when ripe, to be manufactured into indigo, which is the most common method followed throughout India. The zemindar fancies or believes that these ryots and their

land own him as their lord and master, consequently that they must not toil for the planter though he should pay them double or treble the price obtainable from the zemindar. Here, then, is one most fertile source of deliberation and schemes. The growth of the enemy's plant has to be watched and reported upon; and as the time for culling and carrying it approaches, the zemindar has to prepare his lattials or fighting-men, to protect the party who are to remove this produce of the European foe.

The planter gets intelligence of what is going on, and he too musters his lattials in full force, armed not merely with sticks and clubs, but with spears, swords, and firearms. The mustering is not a mere matter of form: never were any men so desperately bent on mischief as the instigators of these lattials; never was life so ruthlessly flung away in acts of open daring as on these occasions. Neither the planter nor the zemindar appears in person, though on the day of strife they will be sure to be within sight of the skirmishing-ground. Perhaps the magistrate of the district hears of the intended breach of the peace, and despatches a strong party of armed Burkemdazes to repress the riot. But wo betide the police officials should they dare to shew their faces on the ground! The contending parties, forgetting their strife for the moment, unite in a common attack upon the general foe, who of course are quickly defeated, and leave the contending parties to fight it out. It is not easy to say why, but it is quite certain that on these occasions nine encounters out of ten end in favour of the European party, though perhaps inferior in numbers, and in no ways of a better class of lattials.

But the fight does not end with the field of indigo which occasioned it: the defeated party seeks revenge either by destroying other crops of his adversary, or by burning a village or two on his land. It matters not who suffers, provided it can in any way reach the enemy; and herein is the greatest evil of these affrays. The Indian zemindar passes a considerable portion of his life in open or secret warfare with his species, like any other untamed beast of prey. With the government, with planters, with traders, with ryots, he is ever at strife. During the recent mutiny and rebellion, he has had ample scope for his belligerent qualities; and in many instances has not failed to avail himself of them. Where he has not done so, it has arisen from no inherent love of peace, order, or justice, but simply from the conviction which, in the breast of the Hindoo, is ever present, that discretion is the better part of valour.' Where numbers triumphed for the time, he has proved that, despite the press, the steam-engine, and the telegraph, India has not felt much internal social change. We have clipped the tiger's claws, but not washed out his spots.

6

AN UNCOMFORTABLE NIGHT. 'My dear Harry,' exclaimed my mother, as one winter's evening we all sat together in the library at Uplands'My dear Harry, if you must positively yawn in that outrageous manner, I think your own room is the proper place to do it in.'

'Was I yawning?' said Harry, starting up from his nook near the fireplace. I beg everybody's pardon; but we had a long day after the cocks, as you know, Kenneth; and besides, the wind made such a noise in the trees near my window last night, that I positively did not close my eyes.'

Harry looked apologetically at our guest, Mr Brunton, a shrewd, sensible-looking man of about fifty years old, who glanced at him with a quaintly amused air as he spoke.

Harry leaves to others the dignity of suffering in

silence, like Sancho Panza,' said my father. If you really are such a victim to want of rest, you had better take yourself off, and make up for lost time.'

'Harry was using the words in their conventional sense,' said Mr Brunton. If you had really ever known what it was to pass a night utterly without sleep, you would not think much of being kept awake or disturbed by a noise. The nearest approach to what the French call une nuit blanche that I ever passed, is marked by anything rather than a white stone in my memory.'

'What was it?'

about it?' we all said; headed by Harry, whom this 'Where were you?' 'Do tell us attack on his fit of drowsiness had roused into full animation.

Before I let Mr Brunton tell his story, I had better explain who he is, and how it happens that we are all glad to listen when he speaks.

Mr Brunton is an old college-friend of my father's; and frequently visits us, partly in that capacity, and partly that my father, who farms his own estate of Uplands on an extensive scale, may profit by his valuable advice in many, matters connected with modern scientific husbandry. Mr Brunton is an eminent agricultural chemist, and his services in this capacity are sought by many landed proprietors and large farmers throughout Great Britain. His skill is great in offering to nature the necessary compensation, in the shape of chemical compounds, strange to the eye and repulsive to the nose, for the drain upon her constitution which is required to produce the abundant grain and root crops expected by 'high farmers' as the reward of their expenditure of skill and capital; and in this useful branch of modern science, Mr Brunton has few, if any rivals.

But his active and enlightened mind is not satisfied to work only in this, its legitimate field of action; he has considerable skill in many kindred sciences, and has dabbled in most of the 'ologies;' and, above all, he possesses from nature the valuable gift of making his mental resources available in an easy and pleasant manner, for the amusement and instruction of others. It would be difficult to find a more agreeable companion; and accordingly, whenever he makes his appearance at Uplands, the entrance of the gentlemen into the library after dinner is the signal for us all to take up our station near the lamp, beside the fire, or in the shady nooks between the chimney-piece and the book-cases on each side of it, and prepare for a long pleasant evening of amusing conversation.

It was this, the family custom of some years' standing, which drew so much attention to Harry's unbecoming state of drowsiness; and caused a general flutter in the party, when Mr Brunton, in reply to our inquiries, promised to give us an account of the most uncomfortable night he ever had passed.

The fire was stirred, the moderator-lamp wound up; my mother's spectacles were rescued from impending destruction, and dexterously fished from under the table by little Marion, and we all declared ourselves ready to listen. Mr Brunton began thus:

It is about ten years, since I was proceeding from London to Glasgow, to attend a meeting there of the Highland Agricultural Society; and by some stupid oversight of my own, or mistake of the railline, and rapidly approaching Liverpool, before I disway authorities, found myself sent off the main covered the error. It was late and dark, and I have a particular objection to any unnecessary degree of discomfort; therefore, as there would still be time enough