to the comforts of its population. Werner, indeed, was the most learned miner of his time, he was the greatest benefactor to the important art of mining the world ever saw,-from his lecture-room proceeded all the most accomplished miners of the time when he flourished,-and these valuable men carried from Freyberg to the farthest corners of the earth, an admiration of the virtues and of the extraordinary talents and acquirements of their illustrious master. It affords us much pleasure to have it in our power to add to our feeble testimony of the splendid talents of the ever to be regretted and excellent Werner, that of his pupil, M. Villefosse, one of the most eminent scientific and practical miners in France.]

Several months have elapsed since the journals announced the death of M. Werner, Member of the Council of Mines of Freyberg, in Saxony, Knight of the Royal Order of Merit, and Foreign Associate of the Royal Institute of France. More than one voice, doubtless, has been raised in Germany to pay homage to the talents and the virtues of this illustrious German. In many a subterranean mine-work the miners of Saxony will have been already melted into tears by the melancholy words, "Our Werner is no more!" This simple announcement must have excited the most lively regrets even in the remotest countries, where the success of the mines was in a great measure the result of the labours of Werner, as it will be, during many ages, the finest monument of his glory.

In one point of view, it would be of great advantage that Werner should be still better known in France than he generally is. For a long time, indeed, the reputation of the professor of Freyberg has been, so to speak, classical among the French mineralogists, but it appears to be confined to the cabinets of our men of science, and has scarcely found its way into our mines. This, however, is its proper place; it is from thence that we now propose to do homage to the memory of this true friend of the miners, who consecrated his life to the advancement of their extensive, important, and arduous labours, and who has thus acquired an incontestable right to the gratitude of every country which possesses mines.

Born about the middle of the last century in the iron-work of which his father was proprietor, in the vicinity of Werhau, in Lusatia, Werner perceived, almost from his infancy, that the miners stood in need of a guide capable of leading them into new luminous paths,-of enabling them to distinguish mineral substances with promptitude and certainty,-of enlightening them in their researches, and in all their labours,-of collecting, comparing, and classifying the facts observed in the bosom of the earth;in short, of forming, for the benefit of the mines of all countries, a common treasure of acquired knowledge. He resolved to be that guide, and he speedily became so.

Having been appointed an officer of the mines at Freyberg, he constantly directed his studies towards that association which he had proposed to himself to effect between the practice of the art of mining, and the numerous sciences from which it may derive assistance. Werner, from observations on the mountains and mines of Saxony, anticipated, in some measure, the identity of structure which has been since observed in so many countries, in the rocks and mineral masses which constitute the exterior crust of our globe. From that time the mines of the whole world presented themselves to his mind as a subterraneous country, where the same general principles ought to prevail,where the same terms of art, whatever might be the difference of idioms, ought to facilitate a useful correspondence not only between the miners of all countries, but also, and above all, between the man of science and the workman. It was in the school of the mines of Freyberg, founded by the king of Saxony in the year 1766, that Werner occupied himself incessantly in laying down these principles, and fixing that language. He succeeded in this in the happiest manner, by attaching a precise and intelligible meaning to the expressions employed by him in describing objects, by adopting almost always the terms of common language; and he often did not even disdain to employ the phraseology in familiar use among the workmen.

To produce this important revolution in the art of mining, which has for a long time made Freyberg be re

garded as the metropolis of that subterranean country, Werner has published two works, neither of which exceeds a small volume in duodecimo. The first treats of the knowledge of minerals according to their external appearance, the second of the arrangement of the repositories of minerals in the bosom of the earth.

These works, originally written in German, have been translated into almost every language, and particularly into French. The principles of the first have been developed, with their application, in the "Traité de Mineralogie," which M. Brochant, chief engineer of the mines of France, has published, according to the school of Werner; the second has been the subject of a judicious analysis, which M. Coquebert de Montbret has inserted in the Journal de Mines, No. 18, and for a complete translation of which we are indebted to the principal engineer Daubuisson. The peculiar excellence of these two works of Werner is, that they are quite intelligible to every miner. They have been sometimes compared with the works of other scientific mineralogists, but to be convinced that there is no room for such a comparison, it is sufficient to consider that the objects of these authors were very different. Werner wished to enlighten practical men; he wished to promote the prosperity of those mines and iron-works, which are the chief resource of so many countries; for that purpose, Werner brought down science to the level of the workman, who gratefully seized the hand held out to his assistance. If, on the contrary, he had attempted to lead the workman to the heights of science, the latter would have refused to follow his steps,

It is not only by his writings that Werner has deserved well of the subterranean country, by rendering science popular there; as a professor, equally skilful and indefatigable, he taught during many years in the school of mines at Freyberg, the knowledge of simple minerals (oryctognosy), of

The works above alluded to are, the Treatise on the External Character of Minerals, of which we have an English translation by Mr Weaver of Dublin, the other is the work on the Natural History of Veins, which has been translated by Dr Anderson of Leith.

rocks, and of the repositories of minerals (geognosy); the art of working mines and of conducting iron-works. Those who were destined to direct the most celebrated establishments, not only in Germany, but also in distant countries, crowded to his lectures; and the audience of the professor of Freyberg had the appearance of a congress of miners from every nation.

His pupils, who all loved as much as they admired him, were soon dispersed throughout the mines of almost every country, full of ardour for the prosperity of these works, and possessed of the knowledge_necessary to secure it. Every where they established by their success the utility of the doctrines of Werner. His school was no longer confined to Freyberg, but extended throughout all the mines of the world; and the result of that sort of apostleship which was exercised in the name of Werner alone, by so great a number of his most distinguished scholars, is, that his principles and his language have become familiar to the practical miners of almost every country, from the mines of the Altaian mountains, even to those of Mexico.

Many Frenchmen had the happiness of studying under Werner in the school of Freyberg. MM. Brochant de Villiers, Daubuisson, de Bonnard, chief engineers of mines, have enjoyed this advantage, as well as the author of the present Notice; and many others of our countrymen. None of us can recollect without emotion the engaging frankness with which Werner welcomed Frenchmen. In the journeys which he made to Paris, our most illustrious Savans had themselves an opportunity of appreciating all the amiable qualities which that celebrated man united to the depth and variety of his knowledge.

May the homage which we pay to his memory in a Journal devoted to the service of the mines of France, contribute to the success of the efforts which the royal corps of engineers of mines have already made, and of those which they still contemplate, for the purpose of giving to the French workmen the benefit of that practical knowledge for which so many foreigners are indebted to the instructions of Werner.

THE LEGEND OF ST ROSALIE.

ALL that of fair the earth may boast
Are met within thy matchless coast,
And bask beneath thy summer sky,
Renown'd romantic Sicily!

A marvellous tale of thine I crave,-
When pestilence, with pernicious breath,
Spread desolation round, and death,
And of thy garden made a grave.
O'er that vast amphitheatre
Of pride, by poets named of old,
The orchard, and the shell of gold,
Hush'd were the tones of human stir ;-
Palermo raised her spiry head,
Frowning,-a city of the dead;
And, in a vale so bright--so fair---
Seem'd hope, united to despair:
The sun shone out; a sulphurous hue
O'erspread the sky, and dimm'd his light;
The pale moon, as she wander'd through,
Was lost amid the haze of night:
The air was poisoned; in an hour
Age withered, for the spoiler's power
Beyond the strength of man was great,
Dealing to all an equal fate :
The infant sickened at its play;
And Beauty, though it bloom'd at morn,
Ere evening of its light was shorn,
Ordained to fall a timeless prey:
There Manhood perished in its pride:
No dirge was sung o'er them that died;
No knell was toll'd; all silently
Within the twilight's ominous gloom,
High-low-from age to infancy,
Were mingled in one common tomb.

At morning's dawn, the tramp of feet
Was heard upon the silent street;
Now louder, clearer wax'd the sound;
Who came ?--an aged abbot dress'd
In sable cowl, and sackcloth vest,
By sickly thousands circled round:
Wild and distemper'd did he fly;
Bewilder'd glanced his hazel eye;
His feet unsandal'd and unshod;
And in his palsied hand he bore,
And wav'd on high a long white rod,
Such as the magi had of yore.

He mounted on a ledge of stone;
The assembled crowd he gaz'd upon,
And there 'twas silence all; intent
On him each moveless eye was bent;
And open every listener's ear,
The tidings of his call to hear-

"Twas at the dead of night," he said,
"I lay upon the rushy bed
Within my solitary cell ;-

I durst not sleep, I could not pray,
Nor there repose till dawn of day ;-

As toll'd the midnight bell,
Myself from off the couch I rais'd,
And on the moonless heavens I gaz'd:
When lo! a dim light, in the sky,
Appall'd my heart, and fix'd mine eye;
As backward silently I drew,
Broader it wax'd, and brighter grew :
Mysterious awe, and silent dread
Of something, that I could not name,
Weigh'd on my breast, and chill'd my frame,
While, as my bosom wildly stirr'd,
The hum of heavenly tones I heard,
And thus a silver tongue began―

Put away fear, and look, O man,
On her, who comes from heaven, to be
Of good to earth the messenger:
Put away fear, and look on me,
Tidings of good to thine and thee,
In the drooping vales of Sicily,
Brought me down, and bring me here!!

"It ceas'd; and reverently I rais'd My eye to hers :-around her blaz'd A halo of celestial light,

Which seem'd more beautiful, more bright
And lovely, 'mid surrounding night ;—
My terrors fled; I saw her stand,
More glorious far than aught that earth
Within its circuit e'er gave birth,
A palm branch in her hand,
And round her twining vestures white,
That, with their lustre, dimm'd the sight,
Terror dwells not with purity-
And here on me it deign'd to shine;
Oh! as, entranc'd, I fixed mine eye
Upon the countenance divine,
The frailties of my state I felt,
And downward on my knees I knelt:
As from the comb the honey drips,
So came these words from sainted lips-
'Once like thyself on earth I dwelt;
But not with trifles, that employ
The gay and giddy, sought I joy;
From man to solitude I stealt,
Ere fifteen summer suns had shed
Their ripening influence o'er my head;
For secret inspirations came,
To warm, with holy zeal, my frame:

Yet dare not I to man recount,
How I my princely kindred left;
How angels bore me up the mount,
And pointed me a secret cleft,
Where night by night, and day by day,
I might repose, and fast, and pray,—
And banish earthly reveries ;-
A token which will not decay,
Remains that so I did, my knees
Have worn the very rock away!

No tokens reach'd my palace home; And none have learn'd what did betide,

Though twice nine generations from
The hour that saw my death, have died!-
Celestial minds, believe me, bear
A sympathy for mortal care;
And shed a healing holiness,
O'er virtues struggling with distress;
I saw, with pity in mine eye,
The land of my nativity;

I heard, with anguish at my heart,
Her groans; and pray'd I might depart
To earthly realms, and there essay
The blots of misery to efface;
The sick in heart to cheer; and chase
The spirit of the plague away.

"Tis granted me; where now I tell,
Go thou at morning light; my bones,
Unburied, mingle with the stones,
In Pelegrino's mountain cell :-

Thrice round the walls let them be borne With anthems to the Prince of Peace; And ere the smile of second morn, Palermo's pestilence shall cease!'

"With rapture, and in reverence,

I clasp'd my palms, and bow'd my head;
Upward I turn'd my eyes; but thence
The glorious messenger had fled;
And, in the aisle of fretted stone,
Upon the couch, I knelt alone!"

He ceas'd: and, from the market place,
The innumerous multitude depart;
The smile of joy on every face,
And rapture in each heart:
To Pelegrino's mount they march'd;
The abbot clomb the craggy mound;
The crevice of the rock he search'd;
And, mingling with the stones around,—
What was his wonder, there to see
The saintly bones of Rosalie !
The fathers took their robes of white,
The crosier, and the cross; delight
Shone in the abbot's eye;

For, as they slowly pass'd in turn,
He held within a silver urn
The relics of her sanctity.

Then, two and two, the vestals pass'd;
A reverential look they east
Upon the holy man ;

And aye the cross was sign'd betwixt,
In term of sacred awe: and next
The choristers began,

In mingling melody, to raise
The hymn of penitence and praise :
Thrice, round Palermo's walls they went
With feet unshod, and faces bent
On earth, in deep humility;
Lo! halting, as they gazed on high,
The melting vapours died away;
Again burst out the azure sky,-
The cloudless canopy of day:
The glorious sun shone on the hills;
And gently swept the southern breeze
Along the vales, and wav'd the trees,
That dimm'd, with shade, the mountain rills.
O'er every tower and turret head,

The standard's flaunting length unroll'd;
And, as the joyful tidings sped,
The bells in every convent toll'd,

VOL. I.

As starting from the visions wild
Of wretchedness, Palermo smil'd!

On Monte Pelegrino stands
A chapel, rais'd by grateful hands,
Above the cave-upon the spot,
Where sacred solitude she sought;
Her sainted image lies enshrin'd
Within the cleft, where, day by day,
She pour'd to heaven her fervent mind,
And kneeling, wore the rock away!
Fair Sicily! 'twas thine to know
The work of wonder wrought for thee;
And, grateful, it was thine to show
Thy reverence for fair Rosalie ;
Since now she reigns, of saints by far
The greatest in thy kalendar!

LADY MARGARET.

[The following fragments of a Scottish ballad were discovered tied up with a number of law papers, principally dated 1590. Some lines, where it was deemed practicable, have been completed by conjecture; the MS. is thus endorsed, in a male hand, " my umquhill deir sister, my lady Eufame's sang, quhilk she would sing unto hir lute."]

LADY MARGARETTE was as faire as May,
As won in the north countrie ;-
Alace! that she luvit a pirate knicht,

Wha wanderit o'er the sea!

They couldna meit in the greene forest,

Nor yet in hall or bower,

But they'd walk on the lone sea sandes,
At the mirk and midnicht hour.
And they'd walk on the lonelie sandes,
By the wann licht o' the moon,
Till the sun raise red o'er yonder fell,
And glittered the waves abune.
Beware, beware, ye maidinnis fair,
Of ugsome kelpie sprite !-
But maist beware o' your ain sweet luve,
Gin ye walk by the pale moon licht!

"Now Willie, if you luve me weel,
As aft you've said and sworn,
Oh wedd me in yon halie kirk
Before my babie's borne !"

"Now Margarett, if you luve me weel,
Urge no such thing to be,
Till I returne from my father's lande,
That's farr beyond the sea."
With flowing tide, and shipp of pride,
That false knicht sail'd away,
And many a tear his true love shedd,
I wott, that drearie day.

And many a langsome look she cast

Atween the sea and the air,
And all to descry that statlie shipp,-

In lyfe she ne'er saw mair.
"I weipe by day, I weipe by nicht,
The salt tearis drown my ee;

I weary for my ain sweet luve, But his face I cannot see." 30

When six sad months were past and gone,
Her cheeke wext pale and leanne;
Her golden belt was all too tight,
Too short her robes of greene.

To braid her hair she didna care,

Nor sett her golden kell;

"There's no room in my coffine sister, Save for my trustie brand,

And that should strike thee to the heart,
Had I now a fleshlie hand."

This lady turn'd her by the shore,
To reach her stately tower,

Dryed aye just where they fell.

She fand nae rest in the green forest,

Nor yet in hall or bower,

But she was pleased wi' the lonlie sandes,
At the mirk and midnicht hour.
There to the wave she'd fondlie rave,

And answere the sea-bird's cry ;— "I see the mast-he comes at last ;" He never mair cam nigh.

"I weipe by day, I weipe by nicht,
I weipe false Willie's scorn;
But ne'er shall I weipe the world's spite
When my poor babie's born."

It was on a nicht, and a mirk mirk nicht,
That forth would Margarett fare;
And she's gane to yon lone kirk-yard;
Hir kin lay buried there.

Now she's gane to hir father's grave,
And touched the marble chest ;
"Oh father deir, mak room for mee,
I fain wald find some rest."
"Awa, awa, thou ill woman,

An ill death may'st thou die,
Were my coffine all the warld wyde,

There's nae room for such as thee." Now she's gane to her mother's tomb, And kissed the feet of stone;

"Oh, mother sweit, mak room for mee,My dayes on earth are done."

66 Away, away, deir Margarett,
Away, and lett mee sleip;
Thou must not stretch thee at my syde,
And I downa hear thee weip."
Now she's gane to her brother's grave,
Ance deir to him was shee ;-

Is there anie room in thy coffine, brother,
For I fain would reste with thee."

As the water-lilie flower.

He wore a garlande o' the green sea-weed, And a robe o' the white sea-foam,"Now faire befalle thee, babie mine,

I bidd thee welcome home." "When I was in life, Lady Margarett, Such kindnesse you did not keip; The cradle you gave was a rocking wave, And the sea-gull to sing me asleip." "Thou sleip'st nott worse beneath the bryne,

Than I on my silken bed;

I cannot rest for those hands of thine

That freeze my brow to lead.

Thou sleip'st not worse beneath the sand, Than I amydd the down;

I cannot rest for thy little feet

That patter my bed aroun.
My days of youth are days of ruth,
I've mickle dreed o' pine;

And sorrow's cup whilk I've drunk up,
Is bitterer far than bryne."
"Soe I will take a plunge, babie,

I'll take a plunge with thee,
We'll soundlier sleep in others arms,
For all the roaringe sea."

Now Willie was sailing his good shipp,
I wot on a simmer's day,
When up there rose a cloud i' the south,
A dark and drumlie grey.

And howdinge saftlie o'er the waves,
Between that cloud and the sea,
Twa snow-white birds he thought cam on,
And marvel'd what they might be !
But when they nigh'd the statlie shipp,
Pale grew the pirate band,

For there stood a lady cladd in whyte,
Wi' a young boy in her hand.

"That shape is like my Margarett's,
As like as like may be;

But when I look on that blue swollen face,
I canna think it she.

"That neck is as white as Margarett's,
As lang that yellow hair;
But how gat ye that bloodie wound,

Bound up with green sea-ware ?" "Leap down, leap down, thou false traitor, Leap down, leap down, and see;

If thou leaps't not down to me and my babe,

We'll climb the shipp to thee."