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The most memorable incident in the history of Caris- I brook Castle, is the detention here of King Charles I. the year before his execution. The unfortunate monarch fled from Hampton Court on the 5th of November, 1647, attended by two confidential servants, but without having determined upon any particular place in which to take refuge. They rode all night, and finding themselves at daybreak in the New Forest in Hampshire, it was resolved to repair to Titchfield, a seat of the Earl of Southampton, in the neighbourhood of which they were. This, however, was not a place in which his Majesty could remain in security; and, after some deliberation, it was deemed best to send a message to Colonel Hammond, the Governor of the Isle of Wight, intimating the King's desire to avail himself of his protection. Charles thought that he might expect to find a friend in the Colonei, who was the nephew of his chaplain, Dr. Henry Hammond; but he was, in fact, a devoted partisan of Cromwell, through whose interest he had married a daughter of Hampden, and had also obtained his post of governor at this station. At first, however, on receiving the King into Carisbrook Castle, he treated him as a guest rather than as a prisoner-permitting him to ride wherever he chose, and to receive all who desired to see him. It was not till after some time that his movements were subjected to any restriction. Hammond then informed him that orders had been sent down for the instant dismissal of all his attendants; and they were accordingly compelled to take their leave the day following. As soon as they were gone, it was further intimated to the unhappy King that he must for the future consider himself as a prisoner within the walls of the castle. He was still, however, allowed as much freedom as was compatible with this species of confinement-being permitted to walk on the ramparts, and to amuse himself in a bowlinggreen, which Hammond caused to be formed for that purpose in a part of the castle-yard. He usually indulged himself in the former exercise in the morning, and in the latter in the afternoon. Much of his leisure was also occupied in reading; his favourite books being the Bible, the works of Hooker, Bishop Andrews, and Dr. Hammond, Herbert's Poems, the Jerusalem Delivered of Tasso, in the original, and Fairfax's translation of that poem, Ariosto, and Spenser's Fairy Queen. Many persons, it would appear, also still contrived to gain admission to his presence, under the pretext of desiring to be touched for the king's evil. The condition in which he was kept, however, was now undisguisedly that of a prisoner; and his thoughts as well as those of his friends

charge of the castle, declared he was ready to have shot his Majesty should he have actually commenced making his descent. After these repeated failures in the effort to obtain his liberty, Charles so completely abandoned himself to despair as even to neglect his person, allowing both his hair and his beard to remain unclipped and uncombed, till his appearance became at last savage and desolate in the extreme. In this state he remained till the 18th of September, 1648, when he was permitted to remove to Newport to confer with commissioners appointed for that purpose by the parliament, on giving his promise that he would not make use of the opportunity to attempt his escape. On the 29th of November he was seized here by a party of soldiers, and conveyed to Hurst Castle, on the coast of Hampshire, which he left only to undergo his trial and execution about six weeks after. The apartments in which he was confined at Carisbrook Castle are now in ruins-but a window is still pointed out as that by which he made the several attempts that have just been related to regain his liberty. This part of the castle is on the left hand upon entering the first court from the gate. A short distance further on, and on the same side, are the governor's apartments, almost the only portion of the interior of the castle which is now in a state of repair.

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were naturally directed to the means by which he might [Carisbrook Castle; shewing the window from which Charles I. effect his escape. The several attempts which he made for this purpose may be found detailed in the "Threnodia Carolina' of Sir Thomas Herbert, and still more minutely in Sir Richard Worsley's History of the Isle of Wight, where many particulars are published for the first time from manuscript documents. The first attempt was made on the 29th of December, and failed through the mismanagement of its conductor Captain Burley, the captain of Yarmouth Castle, who was besides so unfortunate as to be himself apprehended and executed for his share in the enterprise. To Charles the only result was increased severity of treatment and greater watchfulness on the part of his jailors. Some time after, at how the different animals which inhabit this little spot (a Remarkable Concord of Animals.-It is amazing to see the suggestion of a person of the name of Firebrace, who small island near Staten Land) are mutually reconciled. had contrived to find access to him by bribing the sen- They seem to have entered into a league not to disturb each tinels, he was induced to endeavour to escape from his other's tranquillity. The sea-lions occupy most of the seawindow during the night; but after getting his head coast; the sea-bears take up their abode in the isle; the through the bars he could not force through the rest of his shags have post in the highest cliffs; the penguins fix their body. Aqua fortis and files were then conveyed to him; quarters where there is the most easy communication to and but by this time the governor had obtained some inti- from the sea; and the other birds choose more retired places. mation of his former attempt; and when, after havingWe have seen all these animals mix together, like domestic destroyed one of the bars, the King was about to pass through the opening, he observed a number of people on the watch below, and instantly retired to bed. It is said that a Major Rolfe, who happened at the time to have-Cook's Voyages.

molest the other. Nay, I have often observed the eagles and cattle and poultry, in a farm-yard, without one attempting to vultures sitting on the hillocks among the shags, without the latter, either young or old, being disturbed at their presence.

ON MOTION-(Concluded).

We will now suppose that the spectator is carried forward on one straight line with one velocity, while the object moves along another straight line, not in the same direction, with another velocity. Let A be the first position of the spectator, and B that of the object; let A 1, 12, 23, &c. be the spaces described in successive minutes by the spectator, and B 1', 1'2', 2'3', &c. those described in the same successive minutes by the object. At the end of the first minute the line in which the spectator sees B will be 1 1'; and if through A we draw A 1" of the same length and in the same direction as 1 1', the object B will appear to the spectator, who imagines himself at rest, as if B had moved through B 1". Similarly, the apparent motion of B in the second minute will be from 1" to 2", and so on. It may seem rather strange, that in this case the apparent motion of B should be in a line which has no obvious connexion with A 1 or B 1', but we may in a few words, make the result seem highly probable. The spectator A is moving towards the left edge of the paper, and so is the object B, though obliquely; but in this respect it is evident by a look at the figure that A gains upon B, so that B will appear to fall back towards the right, as is the case in the line B 1′′ 2′′. Again, A 1 2 is in the same direction as the top of the paper, while B 1' 2' moves obliquely towards the bottom: this appearance will still be preserved in the apparent motion; so that this latter must be in a line which falls towards the right of the paper going from the top to the bottom, which is the case in B 1" 2". Draw BC equal to A lor l' 1" and in the direction contrary to the motion of A join C1"; the figure B 1'1" C is what is called in geometry

B are in a line with the sun, and are said to be in con junction. The lines AB, 11', 22′, &c., which are the distances of Venus from the earth at the end of the successive portions of time, are transferred, keeping their lengths and directions to the lower figure. Thus A 3" is equal to 3 3′ and in the same direction; and 3" is the apparent place of Venus at the end of the third interval to the spectator on the earth, who imagines that he has remained at rest.

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a parallelogram, having its opposite sides in the saine direction; and B 1", one of the diagonals of this parallelogram, is the apparent motion of B during the first minute; from whence the following rule is derived :— To find the direction and velocity of the apparent motion of an object, when both the object and spectator are moving in right lines, draw through the first position of the object two lines, the first being the real motion of the object for one minute, the second being in magnitude the real motion of the spectator in one minute, but contrary in direction. Form a parallelogram of which these two lines shall be sides; the diagonal of the parallelogram which passes through the first position of the object is the apparent motion of the object in the first minute. Thus we know the direction in which the object appears to move, and the velocity of its apparent motion. By the same process, the apparent motion may be found, when the object or spectator, or both, move in curves instead of straight lines, as in the subjoined diagram; in which, to avoid confusion, the figure which determines the apparent motion is removed from that which represents the real motions.

The figure nearly represents a part of the apparent motion of an inferior planet, that is, one nearer to the sun than the earth is,-Venus for example. The sun is S, the centre of the two circles; A is the earth, moving through A 1, 12, 23, &c., in those successive equal portions of time during which B or Venus describes BI' 1'2', 2′ 3, &c. At first setting out A and * The word second, hour, day, or any other time may be substi

ted throughout for rainute.

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In all these propositions we have supposed that the eye of the spectator is so good, that he can by means of it detect any change, however small, either in the direction or magnitude of the object. This is far from being a correct supposition; and the apparent motion of objects will be modified accordingly. In the first place, distances can only be well compared with one another when they are, from one end to the other, within the lowest limits of distinct vision; and even in that case the eye is a bad judge, unless the distances have some prominent points in them, to prevent their presenting one unvarying line. Again, the eye being naturally no judge of distance, the accuracy of the decision in any case will entirely depend upon the previous habits of the person making it. For example, a landsman is not used to see any large expanse utterly unbroken by a variety of objects, and his eye being unused to measure the proportions of ships, or of a line of coast, he is very apt to mistake the relation of their apparent to their real magnitude. Hence when he goes to sea, every distance seems shorter than it really is, and he will imagine himself to be almost close to the shore or to another ship, when he is in fact more than a mile distant from both. Also a channel or arm of the sea will appear to have very little breadth, when in fact it is several miles across. Neither can the eye, even

when experienced, form a notion of the interval which | verse, and we may add that he also already began to separates two distant objects, without taking into ac- display a genius for English poetry of the very highest count the apparent magnitudes of the objects them- promise. selves. If lines be drawn from the two ends of the object AB, meeting in E, the eye of the spectator, the angle or opening which the two lines make at E is that from which he judges of its magnitude; and when he

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says that the object grows smaller as he walks from it, it is the angle BEA of which he speaks. Another and larger object CD might be so placed as to appear at the same angle, and consequently of the same magnitude. How then do we judge between two objects which appear under the same angle, and which we yet know to be at very different distances? Partly by the greater or less distinctness with which we see them, and partly, if the object be a common one, by the idea we have already formed of its real size, which causes us to form a notion as to how far off such an object must be, in order to appear to us of such a size, or under such an angle. If, for example, a man had been used to pass at some distance from a tower, situated on a wide level heath, remote from other objects; which tower was pulled down and replaced by another of exactly the same figure, but only half the size;-this man, on passing by again, would at first sight imagine that he was much farther from the tower than usual, though perhaps a second view might lead him to observe that the distinctness remained the same as before. If, however, the day were misty, he could not well make the latter remark, and would certainly imagine that he was farther from the tower than usual. Most people observe that in a foggy day objects appear larger than usual, which arises from this, that the angle under which they are seen being unaltered, and the distinctness diminished, the mind refers that diminution of distinctness to an increase of distance, and the objects appear farther off in the same angle, just as they would do if they were larger. For a contrary reason, distant objects appear nearer than usual in a very clear day. If a colossal statue were placed at a great distance from the spectator, the latter, if he had no reason to know that the statue was larger than the usual size, would imagine that it was much nearer to himself than it really was, and would place it at just that distance at which an ordinary man ought to stand, in order to appear under the same angle as the statue. When the distance of an object is so great that we cannot measure it at all by our senses, as in the case of the heavenly bodies, all phenomena, which arise merely from change of distance, are unperceived unless also accompanied with a change of direction. Hence the stars appear to us to be placed in a sphere or surface, every point of which is at the same distance

from our eye.

THE WEEK.

His

Milton left the university, after taking his degree of Master of Arts, in 1632, and went to reside with his father, who, having acquired a competency, had retired from the metropolis to Horton, in Buckinghamshire. Here he passed the following five years in assiduous study; and during this interval he appears to have produced both his exquisite Masque of Comus, which is stated in the title to have been performed at Ludlow Castle, in 1634, before the Earl of Bridgewater, and some of the principal of his minor poems-his Arcades, his Lycidas, and his two incomparable lyric chaunts the l'Allegro and the Il Penseroso. In 1638 he left England with the purpose of completing his education by foreign travel; and visited in succession Paris, Nice, Genoa, Pisa, Florence, Rome, and Naples. Honours from both the learned and the great waited upon the accomplished Englishman wherever he appeared. The state of his native country, however, worn by dissensions, and manifestly on the eve of a great convulsion, appealed too strongly to his patriotic ardour to suffer him to protract his stay abroad; and returning by the way of Geneva he again reached home after an absence of about fifteen months. He did not now resume his residence with his father. He probably considered that for the unsettled times which were apparently at hand the fit preparation which it behoved every man to make was the adoption of some way of earning his bread by his own independent exertions; and, hiring a house in St. Bride's church-yard, he opened a seminary for the instruction of youth in the classic languages. school having soon increased in number he was induced to remove to a larger house in Aldersgate. How long he continued to devote himself to this laborious occupation is not ascertained; but in 1641 we find him for the first time coming before the world as an author. His earliest production from the press was a violent attack upon the Hierarchy. It was followed by several others in the same style; and these efforts must no doubt have aided powerfully in augmenting and directing the storm which now beat against the Church, and eventually laid it prostrate. From this time forward Milton may be considered as a public character. For the following twenty years-the period of the Civil War and of the Protectorate-his pen was never idle; and several of the occasions on which it was employed were such as to bring him conspicuously before his country, and, it may be said, all Europe. In 1643 he married; and soon after, his wife having left him and refused to return, he published in succession his four tracts on the Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce, in which he maintained that the contumacy of one of the two parties of itself dissolved the conjugal connexion, and entitled the other to form a new union. His wife, however, thought fit to repair to him and ask his forgiveness. In 1644 he published his Tractate on Education,' in the form of a letter to his friend Hartlib. appeared his noble defence of the liberty of the press, entitled, 'Areopagitica, or a Discourse for the Liberty of unlicensed Printing. This year also there issued from the press the first edition of his poetical productions, comprising the several pieces that have been already mentioned. In 1649 he published his Tenure of Kings and Magistrates, in vindication of the execution of the King. Soon after he was appointed Latin Secretary of State. His Eiconoclastes (an attack on the famous Eikon Basilike, attributed to the deceased monarch), his two splendid Defences for the People of England (in Latin) in answer to Salmasius, in the course of the composition of the second of which he lost his sight, and other tracts on the same subject, were the fruits of what leisure was left him by the duties of his office between this time and the year 1655, when he resigned his public

DECEMBER 9.-The anniversary of the birth of MILTON. This illustrious poet was born in Bread-street, London, in 1608, and was the eldest son of John Milton, the descendant of an ancient family, but who had been disinherited by his father for abandoning the Catholic faith, and followed the profession of a scrivener. Milton's education was at first conducted at home under the care of a private tutor. He was then sent to St. Paul's School, from which he proceeded, in 1624, to Christ College, Cambridge. He is recorded to have distinguished himself at the university as a writer of Latin

The same year

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employment. His first wife having died in 1651, after the birth of three daughters, he had married a second in 1654, and he lost her also, to whom he was much attached, in 1657. Steady to his principles, he did not cease, even after the death of Cromwell, and in the midst of the almost universal trepidation which had seized upon his party, still to employ his pen in calling upon his countrymen to rally around what he deemed the cause of liberty. But his efforts were vain. On the Restoration, although he was at first apprehended, he eventually escaped with no farther punishment than a sentence of disqualification for holding any public office. Some of his tracts too were ordered to be burnt by the common hangman. But he was turned from his political career only that he might enter upon another far more glorious. Driven from the service of his country on the scene of public affairs, the old man now reverted to the quiet pursuits of his youth. Many years before, he had in one of his early controversial publications announced his intention, if God should grant him life, of dedicating his faculties to produce for the honour of his country some work in the mother tongue, which men should not willingly let die. He now set himself to the fulfilment of this self-imposed task. The result was the production of Paradise Lost, the grandest work in the whole range of poetry. It was published in 1667; in 1671, the Paradise Regained and Sampson Agonistes followed in one publication. The year before, the illustrious author had also given to the world a History of Britain, down to the era of the Norman Conquest; and in 1672 he published a new Scheme of Logic, in Latin. During the two following years also he continued his literary labours, and even sent one or two more productions to the press. He left a posthumous Latin work on The Christian Doctrine,' which was found in the State-Paper Office, and was edited and translated by Dr. Charles Sumner, the present Bishop of Winchester. This was published in 1825. He died at his house in Bunhillfields, on the 10th of November, 1674. He had married a third time about the year 1661; but left no family except the three daughters whom he had by his first wife. gaitosh has ru ai yllisowog bobis bint ylleu Je,dom

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ODE TO AN INDIAN GOLD COIN.
Written in Chérical, Malabar.

SLAVE of the dark and dirty mine!
What vanity has brought thee here?
How can I love to see thee shine
Só bright, whom I have bought so dear?
The tent-ropes flapping lone I hear,
For twilight converse, arm in arm;

The jackal's shriek bursts on mine ear,
When mirth and music wont to charm.
By Chérical's dark wandering streams,
Where cane-tufts shadow all the wild,
Sweet visions haunt my waking dreams,
Of Teviot lov'd while still a child,
Of castled rocks stupendous pil'd
By Esk or Eden's classic wave,

Where loves of youth and friendship smild,
Uncurs'd by thee, vile yellow slave!
Fade, day dreams sweet, from memory fade !-
The perish'd bliss of youth's first prime,
That once so bright on fancy play'd,

Revives no more in after-time."
Far from my sacred natal clime
I haste to an untimely grave;

The daring thoughts that soar'd sublime,
Are sunk in ocean's southern wave.
Slave of the mine! thy yellow light
Gleams baleful as the tomb-fire drear.
A gentle vision comes by night,

My lonely widow'd heart to cheer;
Her eyes are dim with many a tear,
That once were guiding stars to mine:
Her fond heart throbs with many a fear!-

I cannot bear to see thee shine.
For thee, for thee, vile yellow slave,
I left a heart that lov'd me true!

I cross'd the tedious ocean-wave,
To roam in climes unkind and new
The cold wind of the stranger blew
Chill on my wither'd heart:-the grave
Dark and untimely met my view-
And all for thee, vile yellow slave!
Ha! com'st thou now so late to mock

A wanderer's banished heart forlorn,
Now that his frame the lightning shock

Of sun-rays tipt with death has borne ? From love, from friendship, country, torn, To memory's fond regrets the prey,.

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Vile slave, thy yellow dross I scorn! Go mix thee with thy kindred clay The preceding poem was published amongst the Remains of Dr. Leyden, a young Scotch physician of great promise, who died in India at an early age.

SONNET.

SLEEP, Silence' child, sweet father of soft rest,
Prince whose approach peace to all mortals brings,
Indifferent host to shepherds and to kings,
Sole comforter of minds which are opprest.
Lo! by thy charming rod all breathing things
Lie slumbering, with forgetfulness possest,
And yet o'er me to spread thy drowsy wings
Thou spar'st, alas, who cannot be thy guest.
Since I am thine, O come, but with that face
To inward light which thou art wont to show,
With feigned solace ease a true-felt woe;
Or if, deaf god, thou do deny that grace,
Come as thou wilt, and what thou wilt bequeath,
I long to kiss the image of my death.

DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN.

The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln's-Inn Fields.

LONDON:-CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST.

Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied Wholesale by the following Booksellers, of whom, also, any of the previous Numbers may be had:

London, GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley. Manchester, ROBINSON; and WEBB and

Bath, SIMMS.

Birmingham, DRAKE.

Bristol, WESTLEY and Co.

Carlisle, THURNHAM; and SCOTT.

Derby, WILKINS and Sox.

Devonport, BYERS.

Exeter, BALLE.

Doncaster, BROOKE and Co.

Falmouth, PHILP.

Hull, STEPHENSON,

Kendal, HUDSON and NICHOLSON,
Leeds, BAINES and NEWSOME.
Lincoln, BROOKE and Sons.

no plant Liverpool, WILLMER and SMITH.

SIMMS.

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rinted by WILLIAM CLOWES, Stamford Street.

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