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Mechanics' Dracle and Domestic Guide.

INFLUENCE OF PRUSSIC ACID

UPON VEGETATION.

M. C. J. TH. BECKER, in his Dissertatio de Acidi Hydrocyanici vi perniciosa in Pantas, which appeared at Jena in 1823, in 4to. has performed a number of experiments, fromwhich it follows that the Prussic acid prepared according to Vanquelin's method, destroys vegetable life in nearly the same manner as it acts upon animals. Grains immersed in this acid die, or lose their germinating faculty. The more delicate vegetables yield to it more readily than the robust ones.

• AMMONIA DISENGAGED FROM PLANTS DURING VEGETATION.

M. CHEVALLIER has determined the very curious fact, that the Chenopodium vulvaria spontaneously disengages ammonia in a very free state during the act of vegetation; and he has also found, in conjunction with M.Boullay, that a great number of flowers, even among those which have a very agreeable odour, spontaneously disengage ammonia during vegetation. M. Chevallier likewise obtained ammonia from the chenopodium vulvaria by distillation.

BENZOIC ACID IN THE OIL OF
DAHLIA.

M. PAYEN having obtained an éssential oil from the Dahlia, has determined, by numerous experiments, that it contains two substances, and that the crystallizable matter presents several of -the characters of Benzoic acid.

ON THE COMPARATIVE ADVANTAGE OF COKE AND WOOD AS FUEL.

SOME trials have been made by M. Debret on the heating power of coke and wood, when consumed in stoves at the Royal Academy of Music. Two similar stoves were heated, one by wood and the other by coke, and the temperature of the exterior taken at some distance from the fire.

The temperature of the flues was

at first 9o c., and the mean temperature at the end of six hours, was, by the wood, -139 c., by the coke, 16° c.; so that the increase by the wood was 4°, by the coke 7༠. These effects were produced by, seventy-three kilogrammes (163 pounds) of wood, worth three and a half francs, and twenty-four kilogrammes (53 pounds) of coke, worth one frane eighty cents. During the progress of the experiment another stove had been heated for several hours with wood, and the temperature had not risen above 13. The use of coke very quickly raised it to 15° or 16o. Hence it is concluded and with reason, that coke is much preferable for these purposes to wood; but where the stove is small the mixture of a little wood with the coke is recommended to facilitate the combus tion.-Bib. Univ. xxv. 237.

SUBSTITUTE FOR MILK OR
CREAM.

WHERE cream or milk cannot be got, it is an excellent substitute to beat up the whole of a fresh egg in a basin, and then gradually to pour boiling tea over it, to prevent its curdling. It is difficult, from the taste, to distinguish the composition of great use at sea, as eggs may be prefrom tea and rich cream. This might be served fresh in various ways.

TO TAKE MILDEW OUT OF
LINEN.

TAKE soap, and rub it well: then scrape some fine chalk, and rub that also in the linen; lay it on the grass; as it dries wet it a little, and it will come out at twice doing.

TO TAKE OUT SPOTS OF INK.

As soon as the accident happens, wet the place with juice of sorrel or lemon, or with vinegar, and the best hard white soap.

TO TAKE IRON MOULDS OUT OF
LINEN.

HOLD the iron-mould on the cover of a tankard of boiling water, and rub on the spot a little juice of sorrel and a little salt, and when the cloth has thoroughly imbibed the juice,wash it in ley.

(Correspondents in our next.)

LONDON:-WILLIAM CHARLTON WRIGHT, 65, Paternoster Row, and may be had of all Booksellers and Newsmen. [SEARS, Printer, 45, Gutter Lane, Cheapside.]

The Portfolio,

Comprising

II. THE SPIRIT OF THE MAGAZINES. III. THE WONDERS OF NATURE AND ART.

I. THE FLOWERS OF LITERATURE.

V. THE DOMESTIC GUIDE. IV. THE ESSENCE OF ANECDOTE AND WIT. VI. THE MECHANICS' ORACLE.

No. XCVI. [Or No. 12 of]

Vol.

LONDON, SATURDAY, NOV. 27, 1824.

[2d.

VALMONDI,

OR THE UNHALLOWED SEPULCHRE,

A Supernatural Romance, by Mr. MATURIN.

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NOTE.-Our ARTIST has eclipsed the "SCENE PAINTER" and " PROPERTY MAN." The Demon in the Original Tale is described as ASCENDING with his Victim imperceptibly beyond the bounds of Vision. No egress from the Apartment could possibly have been effected; yet "When his Associates hastened together to the Apartment, "IT WAS EMPTY-not a vestige of its last inhabitant remained."-EDIT.

VOL. IV.

M.

The Flowers of Literature.

-00

VALMONDI,

Or, The Unhallowed Sepulchre.

THE foundation of the extraordinary production on which the drama of VALMONDI is built, is as remarkable as the superstructure itself. A passage in one of Maturin's Sermons runs thus: "At this moment, is there one of us present, however we may have departed from the Lord, disobeyed his will, and disregarded his word, is there one of us who would, at this moment, accept all that man could bestow, or earth afford, to resign the hope of his salvation? There is not one-not such a fool on earth, were the Enemy of Mankind to traverse it with the offer."

This passage, it seems, suggested the idea of a powerful and not sufficiently known, or duly appreciated Novel, "Melmoth the Wanderer," -8 work abounding with transcendant beauty, both of conception, of imagery, and of language; containing episode of character and intensity of interest, scarcely, if at all, to be equalled in the wide circle of romance: pictures of actual life nowhere to be found of equal and fearful effect. The Novel itself possesses, to our best feelings, something of a still more imperative nature: its author, an exemplary, and we are bound to believe, a respected functionary of our religion, states distinctly in his preface, that he is compelled to write novels to ensure the means of subsistence, denied him by the imposed poverty of his profession!

On" Melmoth," as Maturin has produced it, is founded a busy, showy, most expensive, and we are bound to say, an effective drama, which the Management of the Adelphi Theatre has christened Valmondi.

The story hinges on the fearful although somewhat hacknied circumstance in dramatic concerns, of an ambitious and self-willed mortal exchanging his eternal welfare for temporal power, and the uncontrouled means of enjoyment, by a league with the Arch Enemy The main incidents of "Melmoth," are necessarily violently compressed in order to condense a story occupying four volumes into a entertainment of three hours, and for the character of originality, which, with all our liking of the Adelphi Theatre's version, and our warmest good wishes, we consider need not have been so anxiously sought it is, however, obtained, and most successfully, and three hours of more rational and glowing

delight can no where perhaps be spent in the presence of dramatic horrors, than in this splendid little theatre.

It would be difficult to give, within our limits, even a complete sketch, however slight, of this story, and with four splendid engraving, closely representing the last scene, and some extracts from the original story, in the glowing and energetic language of Maturin himself. The first of these is one which most impressively describes the presence of the infernal spirit in the person of the condemned and self-immolated victim. The scene is a bridal feast. "The ceremony which Father Olavida had just been performing, had cast a shade over the good father's countenance, which dispersed as he mingled among the guests. Room was soon made for him, and he happened accidentally to be seated opposite the Englishman (with Maturin the victim of the Evil One). As the wine was presented to him, Father Olavida, a man of singular sanctity, prepared to He hesiutter a short internal prayer. tated-trembled-desisted; and, putting down the wine, wiped the drops from his forehead with the sleeve of his habit. His lips moved, as if in the effort to pronounce a benediction on the company, but the effort again failed, and the change in his countenance was so fearful, that it was perceived by all the guests. So strong was the anxiety with which the company watched him, that the only sound heard in that spacious aud crowded hall, was the rustling of his habit, as he attempted to lift the cup to his lips once more in vain. The guests sat in astonished silence. Father Olavida, alone remained standing; but at that moment the Englishman rose, and appeared determined to fix Olavida's regards by a gaze like that of fascination. Olavida rocked, reeled, grasped the arm of a page, and at last, closing his eyes for a moment, as if to escape the horrible fascination of that unearthly glare (the Englishman's eyes were observed by all the guests, from the moment of his entrance, to effuse a most fearful and preternatural lustre), exclaimed, " Who is among us? Who? I cannot utter a blessing while he is here; I cannot feel one. Where he treads, the earth is parched! where he breathes the air is fire! where he feeds, the food is poison! where he turns, his glance is lightning! Who is among us? Who?" repeated the priest, in the agony of adjuration, while his cowl fallen back, his few thin hairs around the scalp, seemed alive with terrible emotion, his outspread arms protruded from the sleeves of his habit, and extended towards the

VALMONDI.

awful stranger, suggested the idea of an inspired being in the dreadful rapture of denunciation. He stood, still stood, and the Englishman, that unearthly being, stood calmly opposite him. "Who knows him?" exclaimed Olavida, starting apparently from a trance; "who knows him? who brought him here?"

The guests severally disclaimed all knowledge of the extraordinary visitor, and each asked the other in whispers, who had brought him there? Olavida then pointed his arm to each of the company, and asked him individually, " Do you know him?" "No! no! no!" was uttered with vehement emphasis by each individual. "But I know him," screamed Olavida, "by these cold drops!" and he wiped then off; "by these convulsed joints!" and he attempted to sign the cross, but could not. He raised his voice, and evidently speaking with increased difficulty, "By this bread and wine, which the faithful receive as the body and blood of Christ, but which his presence converts into matter as viperous as the foam of the dying Judas,-by all these I know him, and command him to be gone! He is—he is—” and he bent forwards as he spoke, and gazed on the Englishman with an expression which the mixture of rage, hatred, and fear, rendered terrible. All the guests rose in affright and terror at these words; the whole company now presented two singular groupes, that of the amazed guests all collected together, and repeating, "Who, what is he?" and that of the terrific and unearthly Englishman, who still stood unmoved, and seemingly immoveable as a rock; and Olavida himself, who dropped DEAD in the attitude of pointing to him.

Another passage, which our Engraving illustrates, will sufficiently elucidate our observations on this extraordinary picce in the drama it produces a stage effect really unique, and, for the extent of the theatre, we should speak but lightly of its merits, were we to stop when we say it is UNPRECEDENTED IN ITS SPLENDOUR, and UNRIVAL ED IN ITS EFFECT.

"At the sound of their approach, he half started up, and demanded what was the hour. They told him. "My hour is come," said the Wanderer, "it is an hour you must neither partake or witness: the clock of eternity is about to strike, but its knell must be unheard by mortal ears!" As he spoke they ap. proached nearer, and saw with horror the change the last few hours had wrought on him. The fearful lustre of his eyes had been deadened before their late inter

179

view; but now the lines of extreme age were visible in every feature. His hairs were as white as snow, his mouth had fallen in, the muscles of his face were relaxed and withered, he was the very image of hoary decrepit debility. He started himself at the impression which his appearance visibly made on the intruders. "You see what I feel," he exclaimed; "the hour then is come. I am summoned, and I must obey the summons

my master has other work for me! Men, retire! leave me alone. Whatever noises you hear in the course of the awful night that is approaching, come not near this apartment, at peril of your lives. Remember," raising his voice, which still retained all its powers, "remember, your lives will be the forfeit of your desperate curiosity. For the same stake I risked more than life, and lost it! Be warned, and retire!" They retired, and passed the remainder of that day without even thinking of food, from that intense and burning anxiety that seemed to prey on their very vitals. At night they retired, and though each lay down, it was without a thought of repose: repose, indeed, would have been impossible! The sounds that soon after midnight began to issue from the apartment of the Wanderer, were at first of a description not to alarm, but they were now exchanged for others of indescribable horror. In a short time the sounds hecame so terrible, that scarcely had the awful warning of the Wanderer power to withhold them from attempting to burst into the room. These noises were of a mixed and most indescribable kind. They could not distinguish whether they were the shrieks of supplication, or the yell of blasphemy: they hoped inwardly they might be the former. Towards morning the sounds suddenly ceased; they were stilled as in a moment. The silence that succeeded seemed to them for a few moments more terrible than all that preceded. After consulting each other by a glance, they hastened together to the apartment. They entered!—IT WAS EMPTY! Not a vestige of its last inhabitant remained, or was to be traced within.

FORESIGHT.

THE overthrow of some persons' fortunes, and the sudden rise of those of others, are worthy subjects of reflection ; consequently, says a French observer, "I never give alms to a beggar without saying to him-Friend, think of me if you happen to become a Minister, a Director, or a Deputy.”

THE FATAL MARKSMAN.

(Continued from page 164.)

"Let me see your gun," said the soldier. "Ah, I thought so: this gun has been charmed, and you'll never get a true aim with it again: and more than that, let me tell you, if the charm was laid according to the rules of art, you'll have no better luck with any other gun you take in hand.”

William shuddered, and would have urged some objection against witchcraft; but the stranger offered to bring the "To old question to a simple test. soldiers, the like of me," said he, "there's nothing at all surprising in it. Bless your soul; I could tell you stories stranger by half, from this time to midnight. Now, here, for instance, is a ball that cannot fail to go true, because it's a gifted ball, and is proof against all the arts of darkness. Just try it now: just give it a trial. I'll answer for it."

William loaded his piece, and looked about for an aim. At a great height above the forest, like a moving speck, was hovering a large bird of prey. "There! that old devil up there, shoot him." William laughed, for the bird was floating in a region so elevated as to be scarcely discernible to the naked eye. "Nay, never doubt," repeated the old soldier, "I'll wager my wooden leg you'll bring him down." William fired, the black speck was seen rapidly descending; and a great vulture fell bleeding to the ground.

taken to remove it; but, without exactly knowing why, he shrank from telling of the inevitable balls, and laid the blame upou a flaw in his gun, which had escaped his notice until the preceding night.

"Now, dame," said the forester, laughing: "who's wrong now, dame, I wonder? the witchcraft lay in the gun that wanted trimming; and the little devil, that by your account should have thrown down old father Kuno's picture so early this morning, I'm partly of opinion lies in a cankered nail."

"Oh! that's nothing at all," said the soldier, observing the speechless astonishment of his companion, "not worth speaking of. It's no great matter to learn how to cast balls as good as these; little more is wanted than some slight matter of skill, and a stout heart; for the work must be done in the night. I'll teach you and welcome, if we should chance to meet again. Meantime here's a few braces of my balls for you," and so saying he limped off. Filled with astonishment William tried a second of the balls, and again he hit an object at an inaccessible distauce: he then charged with his ordinary balls, and missed the broadest and most obvious mark. On this second trial, he determined to go after the soldier; but the old soldier had disappeared in the depths of the forest; all was pleasure when William returned, as formerly, with a load of venison, and gave practical evidence to old Bertram that he was still the same marksman he had shown himself in his noviciate. He should now have told the reason of his late ill-luck, and what course he had

"What's that about a devil?" asked William.

"Nay, nothing but nonsense," replied the old man: "this morning, just as the clock was striking seven, the picture fell down of itself; and so my wife will have it that all's not right about the house."

"Just as it was striking seven? Ha!" And the old soldier flashed across William's thoughts, who had taken his leave at that identical time.

In a few days William had so familiarised himself to the use of his enchanted balls, that he no longer regarded it with any misgiving. Every day he roamed about in the forest hoping to meet the wooden-leg again; for his stock of balls had sunk to a single pair: and the most rigorous parsimony became needful, if he would not put to hazard his final success on the day of trial. One day, therefore, he positively declined attending the old forester a hunting; for, on the next, the duke's commissioner was expected; and it might so happen that before the regular probation, he would call for some exhibition of his skill: At night, however, instead of the commissioner, came a messenger from him to bespeak a very large delivery of game for court,

and to countermand the preparations for his own reception until that day se'nnight.

On the receipt of this news, William was ready to sink to the ground; and his alarm would certainly have raised suspicions, had it not been ascribed to the delay of his marriage. He was now under the necessity of going out to hunt, and of sacrificing, at least, one of his balls. With the other he vowed to himself that he would not part for any purpose on earth, except for the final shot before the commissioner, which was to decide his fate for life.

Bertram scolded, when William came back from the forest with only a single buck for the quantity of venison ordered was very considerable. Next day he was still more provoked on seeing

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