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WHITE.

EDITED BY HERR HARRWITZ.

PROBLEM No. XXIII.-BY MR. M'COMBE.-White to move, and mate in four moves.

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GAME No. XXIII.-Played February 16th, 1853, between Mr. BODEN and Mr. GREENAWAY. Black-Mr. Boden. White-Mr. Greenaway.

1. K. P. 2.

2. K. B. to Q. B. 4.
3. K. Kt. to B. 3.
4. Q. Kt. to B. 3.
5. K. Kt. takes P.
6. K. B. to Q. Kt. 3.
7. Q. P. 2.

8. Q. Kt. takes P.
9. P. takes B.
10. B. takes Kt.
11. Castles.

12. K. B. P. 2. 13, K. B. to K. 4. 14. Q. to K. B. 3. 15. Q. to K. Kt. 3. 16. P. takes Q. 17. Q. B. to K. 3. 18. Q. B. P. 1. 19. K. B. to K. B. 3. 20. K. R. to Q. sq. (d.) 21. P. to K. Kt. 4.

1. K. P. 2.
2. K. Kt. to B. 3.
3. K. Kt. takes P.
4. K. Kt. to B. 3. (a.)
5. Q. P. 2.

6. K. B. to Q. 3.
7. Q. B. P. 2. (b.)

8. K. B. takes K. Kt. 9. Kt. takes Kt. 10. Castles.

11. Q. Kt. to Q. 2.

12. Q. Kt. to its 3. (c.) 13. Q. to K. R. 5. 14. Q. B. to K. Kt. 5. 15. Q. takes Q.

16. Q. R. to Q. Kt. sq. 17. Q. Kt. to Q. 2. 18. Q. Kt. P. 1. 19. B. to K. B. 4. 20. K. R. to Q. sq. 21. B. to K. 3.

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CORRESPONDENCE.

Photography. E. J.-We intend giving a series of papers on this highly important branch of art, with instructions for beginners. They will be commenced in our next number.

Ely and Ellesmere. B. M.-The original name of Ely was the Isle of Eels, so called because eels were formerly kept there. Ellesmere, or Eelsmere, derives its name from a similar cause.

Wild Flowers. F. P.-You are right; the early morning is a good time for collecting wild-flowers, the dew not being dried up by the sun. When they are full of sap, they lose their colours in the process of drying.

Origin of Turnpikes. N. W.-Turnpikes were so called from poles or bars swung on a staple, which allowed them to turn any way when the dues were paid. A turnpike road by law is twenty yards wide.

Floral and Human Clock.-The interesting article on the flowering of plants, entitled the "Human Clock," in page 350 of our last volume, was extracted from a valuable work entitled PhytoTheology, by Dr. Balfour, professor of botany at the Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh.

Diseases of House Plants. T. H.-You can employ tobacco smoke or tobacco water for removing the aphides on your room plants. Where the smell is not offensive, smoke blown from a common tobacco pipe is as effectual as any other method. Camphorated water may be used instead of tobacco. Sulphur or camphor will effectually remove mildew.

Fish. G.-The digestibility of fish varies considerably in different species. The oily fishes are more difficult to digest, and in consequence are unfit for invalids. Fish is rendered less digestible by frying. It is, in any form, less satisfying to the appetite than the meat of either quadrupeds or birds. As it contains more water, it is obviously less nourishing.

Success in Life. C. L.-It is a misfortune when a young man is aware that he will inherit property; it damps all his natural energy, he does not rely upon his own efforts, and becomes careless and extravagant. We advise you to depend upon your own resources, live frugally, and be industrious; and there is no question that, if you are mentally qualified for a commercial life, your success is certain.

Property Tax. S. N.-It is legal for the property tax chargeable on the rent of a house to be collected by the collector from the occupier, although the owner of the property has an income under the fixed sum; but the tax paid by the tenant can be recovered by the owner, on his proving before the Commissioners that his income from all sources renders him exempt.

Choosing Fire-grates. M. O.-We should advise you not to buy a fire-grate or stove with a polished steel front, for even with the greatest attention they are liable to become rusty, particularly during the summer, as then there is not any heat in them, and the vapours in the room become condensed on the surface of the cold polished steel. The best grates are those made of cast-iron, and black-leaded; and in choosing them be sure not to have those that are too open, as they are very liable to smoke.

Woman's Will. W. W.-The lines you mention are upon the pillar erected on the mount in the Dane-John Field, formerly called the Dungeon Field, Canterbury; but you have only quoted the two last lines. The complete verse is as follows:"Where is the man who has the power and skill

To stem the torrent of a woman's will?

For if she will, she will, you may depend on 't

And if she won't, she won't; so there's an end on 't."

Civility. S. S.-We allow that it is very tiresome to be annoyed as you have been, and we are glad to find that your courteous replies produced so happy an effect. "Civility," saith the proverb, "costs nothing and gains much." When a rich Quaker was asked the secret of his success in life, he answered, "Civility, friend, civility." Some people are uncivil, sour, sullen, morose, crabbed, crusty, haughty, really clownish, and impudent. Run from such men, as for your life. "Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit? There is more hope of a fool than of him.'

Angler's Weather-Guide. J. C.-The lines you have sent are, we believe, misquoted. best of our recollection, they run thus:

When the wind is in the east,
Then the fishes do bite least;
When the wind is in the west,
Then the fishes bite the best;
When the wind is in the north,
Then the fishes do come forth;
When the wind is in the south,

To the

It blows the bait in the fish's mouth. If we are wrong, perhaps some of your brotheranglers will correct us.

Wasting Time. O.-Some persons are always wasting time, and there is no doubt this is the case with you, for by your own statement other people do twice as much work as yourself, and many even perform thrice as much. Never heedlessly waste even a minute-it can never be recalled; but endeavour to cultivate a love of hoarding time. In this, and in this only, be miserly, for spare minutes are the gold dust of time; and Young wrote a true as well as a striking line, when he taught that "Sands make the mountain, moments make the year." Of all the portions of our life, the spare minutes are the most fruitful in good or evil. They are gaps through which temptations find the easiest access to the garden of the soul.

Ancient Mode of Burial. JOHN DARBY (Norwich).-Formerly it was contrary to the law to bury people in cities, and even in churches; and it continued in force until the beginning of the ninth century. However, a few exceptions were sometimes made. The burying in churches is said to have originated from the practice of building churches over the graves of the martyrs in the country, and of removing their remains and relics into the city churches. The kings and emperors were buried in the churchyard, or in the porch of the church; afterwards some few people were allowed to be buried in the churchyard, and then it became general. By degrees the kings, bishops, and others were allowed to be buried in the church; and ultimately it became a privilege which the bishops and presbyters granted to whomsoever they pleased. We appear to be going back to the ancient mode of burying without the city-a most salutary custom.

Inconstancy. FERDINAND.-You have no right to sport with the feelings of any lady; and although you may not have actually proposed to marry her, yet your actions have been such as to lead her to suppose that you prefer her to the other ladies. Nothing could be more injudicious (if you do not care about the lady) than to send her bouquets, with verses attached to them. An indifferent person would not have acted thus. Remember Cobbett's remarks upon this subject. "Vanity," he says, "is generally the tempter in this case; a desire to be regarded as being admired by the woman-a very despicable species of vanity, but frequently mischievous, notwithstanding. You do not, indeed, actually, in so many words, promise to marry; but the general tenor of your language and deportment has that meaning. You know that your meaning is so understood; and if you have not such meaningif you be fixed by some previous engagement with or great liking for another-if you know you are here sowing the seeds of disappointmentand if you, keeping your previous engagement or greater liking a secret, persevere, in spite of the admonitions of conscience, you are guilty of deliberate deception, injustice, and cruelty."

Poisoned Confectionary. EMMA.-It is a great pity that confectioners do not colour the ornaments for cakes, &c. with harmless substances; if they did, such accidents as you relate would not occur. Very recently, four children in a family were nearly poisoned by eating some of the ornaments off a cake; and when part of the same ornaments were analyzed, arsenic was discovered. They order these matters better in France, for every shopkeeper is prevented selling anything that is likely to endanger the lives or health of the people. Sir F. Head informs us, in his "Faggot of French Sticks," that "no one is allowed to act as a chemist, to prepare or sell any medicine, until he has passed a strict examination; and after he has received his patent, he is

prevented from selling any poisonous substance until he has appeared before the prefect of police to petition for permission to do so, and to inscribe the locality in which his establishment is situated; and even then he is restricted from selling poison except under the prescription of a physician, surgeon, or apothecary, which must be dated and signed; and in which not only the dose is designated, but the manner in which it is to be administered. The pharmacien, or chemist, is required to copy the prescription, at the moment of his making it up, into his register, which he is required to keep for twenty years, to be submitted to the authorities whenever required. Moreover, poisons of all sorts, kept by a chemist, are required to be secured by a lock, the key of which must be in his own possession." In England any shopkeeper can sell poisons, and hence the many serious accidents and cases of wilful poisoning that occur from time to time.

Churns. "A COUNTRY SUBSCRIBER."-For the large operation of the dairy farmer, a better application than the churn of his forefathers has not yet been discovered. The annexed sketch displays a useful kind of modern churn. With re

gard to the rancid taste of butter; when once it is acquired it is never again fit for the table, but it may be so purified as to be by no means useless for pastry purposes. The disagreeable acids are all, to a certain extent, soluble in water. Butter should therefore be placed in clean fresh spring water, over a slow fire, and kept there until the water boils. This will evaporate, wash out, and volatilize the acids. It may then be skimmed off, and put in fresh cold water, again to undergo the boiling process. If after this it be washed thoroughly, it will be found free from any bad effects upon pastry, but very insipid, and unfit for the table.

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seen.

TALES OF THE AFFECTIONS. BY THE COUNTESS D'ARDOUVILLE.

RESIGNATION.

I AM about to relate, simply, what I have It is one of the melancholy remembrances of my life-one of those thoughts towards which the mind turns back with pensive softness in some disheartening hour. There breathes from it a renouncement of the too lively hopes of this world-a spirit of self-denial that quells the murmur rising to our lips, and invites to silent resignation. If ever these pages be read, I would not have them read by such as are happy-the thoroughly happy. There is nothing here for them-neither invention nor action. But there are hearts that have in some degree suffered, and have had many dreams, and are apt to be readily made sad-persons

VOL. XI. NO. CXXVII.

who, when perchance they observe and suffering, or should a sound resembling a sigh strike their ear, would pause to listen and to sympathise. To such I can address myself, almost at random, while I relate a story, simple, as is all that is true, and touching, as is all that is simple.

In the north of France, near the Belgian frontier, there is a town, altogether small, obscure, and unknown. The requirements of war have encircled it with high fortifications, which seem to crush its pitiful houses in their centre. This poor town, bound up tightly in a network of walls, has never been able to let one small house straggle over the ditch that surrounds it. As its population increased, it diminished its market-places and pent up its streets, at the sacrifice of space, regularity, and health. The houses, heaped up as they are one upon another, and smothered by the walls of the

F

fortification, present, from a distance, only the appearance of a prison.

The climate of the north of France, though without extremes of cold, is of a sullen sadness. Dampness, fogs, rains, and snow obscure the heavens, and freeze the earth during six months of the year. A thick and black smoke from the coal-fires, rising above each house, adds even more to the sombre appearance of this little town of the north.

with a small door between them, and a garret above. The walls were painted of a deep gray colour, the windows stopped up with numerous panes of thick greenish glass-an obstacle through which the light of day could never pierce to brighten the interior of the dwelling. The lane, besides, was too narrow for the sun even to appear there, and a perpetual shade reigned on the spot, and made it always cold, whatever, elsewhere, might be the heat of the day.

In winter, when the snow was frozen on the steps of the alley, it was impossible to walk without risking a fall; and thus, 80 deserted had it become, I, perhaps, was the only person who once a-day came up the lane. I never remember meeting a passenger, or seeing even a bird perched for an instant in the crevices of the wall.

mournful house has no inhabitants but such as are near the end of their existence, and whose aged bodies give them neither sorrow nor regrets. How terrible to be young such a place!"

I shall never forget the chilling impression of sadness I felt in passing over the drawbridges which serve as its entrance. I asked myself, with a shudder, if it were possible there were beings who could be born and die here without knowing anything of the rest of the earth. There have been actually some destined to such a fate. But Providence, which has a hidden good-“It is to be hoped," I said to myself, "this ness in all the privations it imposes upon us, has bestowed upon the inhabitants of this town a need of labour-a necessity to acquire the means of living, that are wanting here and so taken away from these poor disinherited children all time for observing whether their sky be lowering and without sun. They have no thought of what they never had. For my part, however, as I entered this sombre and smokebeclouded city, I called to mind every day of sunshine that had gone to the measure of my life-all the hours I had passed in liberty, and the enjoyment of a pure sky; and I felt grateful at that moment for what I had always hitherto regarded as gifts equally common to all mankind-light, air, and a free horizon. I resided eighteen months in that small town, and was just beginning to murmur at so long a captivity, when what I am now about to tell you happened.

To reach one of the gates of the fortification, I was obliged, in taking my morning's walk, to go every day down a narrow little lane, that more resembled a ladder; for the earth had been dug out in the form of steps to render it easier of access. For a long time, as I traversed this steep and dark alley, my thoughts were in advance of my feet, and I thought only of the open country beyond, towards which I was making my way; but one day it happened that my eyes rested upon a poor dwelling, the only one that seemed to have inhabitants. It consisted only of a ground-floor, having two windows,

The humble dwelling was always in silence, not a sound of noise escaped from it, nought could be seen in motion about it. It was calm as the tomb; and every day I said to myself "Who can possibly live there?"

Spring came. In this alley, ice was changed to dampness, then dampness gave way to dryness; next some blades of grass pushed themselves up at the foot of the walls. The corner of sky, a sight of which could be got at with some difficulty, became clearer. In a word, even in that dark passage the spring vouchsafed to throw a shadow of life. But the little house remained altogether without noise or motion about it.

Towards the month of June, I was taking my every-day walk as usual, when I sawforgive the expression-I saw, with a feeling of profound regret, placed in a glass on the ledge of one of the windows in that house, a little bunch of violets.

To love flowers one must, if not actually young, have preserved some of the memories of youth; one must not be entirely absorbed in the matter-of-fact life; one must possess the delicious faculty of doing nothing without being idle-I mean, of living in dreams, memories, and hopes. In the enjoyment brought us by the perfume of a flower there is a certain delicacy of soul. It is a touch

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