The Naturalist,

THE CLOVE.

THE clove is the unexpanded flower-bud of an East Indian tree, somewhat resembling the laurel in its height, and the shape of its leaves, which are in pairs, oblong, large, spear-shaped, and of a bright green colour. The flowers grow in clusters, which terminate the branches, and have the calyx divided into four small and pointed segments. The petals are small, rounded, and of a blueish colour.

The culture of the clove-tree was formerly a very important labour of the Dutch colonists in the Molucca or Spice islands; and, it has even been asserted, that, in order to monopolize the trade in cloves, the Dutch destroyed all the trees growing in other islands, and confined the propagation of them to that of Ternate. But, in 1770 and 1772, both clove and nutmeg-trees were transplanted from the Moluccas into the islands of France and Bourbon, and subsequently into some of the colonies in South America.

At a certain season of the year, the clovetree produces a great profusion of flowers. When these have attained the length of about half an inch, the four points of the calyx being prominent, and having, in the middle of them, the leaves of the petals folded over each other, and forming a small head about the size of a pea, they are fit to be gathered. This operation is performed between the months of October and February, partly by the hand, partly by hooks, and partly by beating the trees with bamboos. The cloves are either received on cloths spread beneath the trees, or are suffered to fall on the ground, the herbage having been previously cut and swept. They are subsequently dried by exposure to the smoke of

wood fires, afterwards to the rays of the sun. When first gathered, they are of a reddish colour, but by drying they assume a deep brown cast. When fresh gathered, cloves will yield, on pressure, a fragrant, thick, and reddish oil; and by distillation, a limpid, essential oil; the latter being that common in the shops of druggists. The use of cloves in domestic economy is too well-known to need description.

The clove pink, gilliflower, or July flower is of the same genus of plants with the spice clove, which it resembles in its pleasant aromatic smell. These flowers were used by our forefathers in the form of syrup, and as a pleasant vehicle for other medicines.

Notes of a Reader.

EXECUTION OF LORD FERRERS, IN 1760. [IN the third volume of the recently published Correspondence of Horace Walpole, we find a long letter occupied by a narrative of this memorable scene, or we should say, event; for, happily, such occurrences are but rare in the history of crime. We abridge the paper, by omitting a few unimportant passages.]

What will your Italians say to a Peer of England, an earl of one of the best families, tried, for murdering his servant, with the utmost dignity and solemnity, and then hanged at the common place of execution for highwaymen, and afterwards anatomized? This must seem a little odd to them, especially as they have not lately had a Sixtus Quintus. I have hitherto spoken of Lord Ferrers to you as a wild beast, a mad assassin, a low wretch, about whom I had no curiosity.

His misfortunes, as he called them, were dated from his marriage, though he has been guilty of horrid excesses unconnected with matrimony, and is even believed to have killed a groom who died a year after receiving a cruel beating from him. His wife, a very pretty woman, was sister of Sir William Meredith,* had no fortune, and he says, trepanned him into marriage, having met him drunk at an assembly in the country, and kept him so till the ceremony was over. -As he always kept himself so afterwards, one need not impute it to her. In every other respect, and one scarce knows how to blame her for wishing to be a countess, her behaviour was unexceptionable. He used his wife so ill, always carrying pistols to bed, and threatening to kill her before morning,

Cheshire. The title is now extinct.-D. (the late Sir William Meredith, Bart. of Hanbury, in Lord Dover.)

+ She afterwards married Lord Frederick Campbell, brother of the Duke of Argyll, and was an excellent woman. (She was unfortunately burned to death at Lord Frederick's seat, Combe Bank, in Kent.-D.)

beating her, and jealous without provocation, that she got separated from him by act of parliament, which appointed receivers of his estate in order to secure her allowance. This he could not bear. However, he named his steward for one, but afterwards finding out that this Johnson had paid her fifty pounds without his knowledge, and suspecting him of being in the confederacy against him, he determined, when he failed of opportunities of murdering his wife, to kill the steward, which he effected. Having shot the steward at three in the afternoon, he persecuted him till one in the morning, threatening again to murder him, attempting to tear off his bandages, and terrifying him till in that misery he was glad to obtain leave to be removed to his own house; and when the earl heard the poor creature was dead, he said he gloried in having killed him. You cannot conceive the shock this evidence gave the court-many of the lords were standing to look at him-at once they turned from him with detestation. The very night he received sentence, he played at picquet with the wardours and would play for money, and would have continued to play every evening, but they refused. Lord Cornwallis, governor of. the Tower, shortened his allowance of wine after his conviction, agreeably to the late strict acts on murder. This he much disliked, and at last pressed his brother, the clergyman, to intercede that at least he might have more porter; for, said he, what I have is not a draught. His brother represented against it, but at last consenting (and he did obtain it)-then said the earl, "now is as good a time as any to take leave of you-adieu !" A minute journal of his whole behaviour has been kept, to see if there was any madness in it. Dr. Munro, since the trial, has made an affidavit of his lunacy. The Washingtons were certainly a very frantic race, and I have no doubt of madness in him, but not of a pardonable sort. Two petitions from his mother and all his family were presented to the King, who said, as the House of Lords had unanimously found him guilty, he would not interfere. Last week my Lord Keeper very goodnaturedly got out of a gouty bed to present another: the King would not hear him. "Sir," said the Keeper, "I don't come to petition for mercy or respite; but that the 4,000l. which Lord Ferrers has in India bonds, may be permitted to go accord ing to his disposition of it, to his mistress, children, and the family of the murdered man." "With all my heart," said the King, "I have no objection; but I will have no message carried to him from me." However, this grace was notified to him and gave him great satisfaction; but unfortunately it now appears to be law that it is forfeited to the sheriff of the county where the fact was com. mitted; though when my Lord Hardwicke

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was told that he had disposed of it, he said to be sure he may before conviction.

Dr. Pearce, Bishop of Rochester,* offered his service to him: he thanked the Bishop but said, as his own brother was a clergyman, he chose to have him.

On the last morning he dressed himself in his wedding-clothes, and said, he thought this, at least, as good an occasion of putting them on as that for which they were first made. He wore them to Tyburn. This marked the strong impression on his mind. His mother wrote to his wife in a weak, angry style, telling her to intercede for him as her duty, and to swear to his madness. But this was not so easy: in all her cause before the Lords, she had persisted that he was not mad.

His courage rose where it was most likely to fail,—an unlucky circumstance to prophets, especially when they have had the prudence to have all kind of probability on their side. Even an awful procession of above two hours, with that mixture of pageantry, shame, and ignominy, nay, and of delay, could not dismount his resolution. He set out from the Tower at nine, amidst crowds, thousands. First went a string of constables; then one of the sheriffs, in his chariot and six, the horses dressed with ribands; next Lord Ferrers, in his own landau and six, his coachman crying all the way; guards at each side; the other sheriff's chariot followed empty, with a mourning coach-and-six, a hearse, and the Horse Guards. Observe, that the empty chariot was that of the other sheriff, who was in the coach with the prisoner, and who was Vaillant, the French bookseller in the Strand. How will you decipher all these strange circumstances to Florentines? bookseller in robes and in mourning, sitting as a magistrate by the side of the earl; and in the evening, everybody going to Vaillant's shop to hear the particulars. Lord Ferrers at first talked on indifferent matters, and observing the prodigious confluence of people, (the blind was drawn up on his side,) he said,-" But they never saw a lord hanged, and perhaps will never see another." One of the dragoons was thrown by his horse's leg entangling in the hind wheel: Lord Ferrers expressed much concern, and said, "I hope there will be no death to-day but mine," and was pleased when Vaillant told him the man was not hurt. Vaillant made

excuses to him on his office. trary," said the earl, "I am

A

"On the conmuch obliged to

Zachariah Pearce, translated from the See of Bangor in 1756. He was an excellent man, and infirm, he presented to the world the rare instance of later in life, in the year 1768, finding himself growing disinterestedness, of wishing to resign all his pieces of preferment. These consisted of the Deanery of Westminster and Bishoprick of Rochester. The Deanery he gave up, but was not allowed to do so by the Bishoprick, which was said, as a peerage, to be inalienable.-D.

you. I feared the disagreeableness of the duty might make you depute your undersheriff. As you are so good as to execute it yourself, I am persuaded the dreadful apparatus will be conducted with more expedition." The Chaplain of the Tower, who sat backwards, then thought it his turn to speak, and began to talk on religion; but Lord Ferrers received it impatiently. However, the Chaplain persevered, and said, he wished to bring his lordship to some confession or acknowledgment of contrition for a crime so repugnant to the laws of God and man, and wished him to endeavour to do whatever could be done in so short a time. The earl replied, "He had done every thing he proposed to do with regard to God and man; and as to discourses on religion, you and I, sir," said he to the clergyman, "shall probably not agree on that subject. The passage is very short; you will not have time to convince me, nor I to refute you;, it cannot be ended before we arrive." The clergyman still insisted, and urged, that, at least, the world would expect some satisfaction. Lord Ferrers replied, with some impatience," Sir, what have I to do with the world? I am going to pay a forfeit life, which my country has thought proper to take from me-what do I care now what the world thinks of me? But, sir, since you do desire some confession, I will confess one thing to you; I do believe there is a God. As to modes of worship, we had better not talk on them. I always thought Lord Bolingbroke in the wrong to publish his notions on religion: I will not fall into the same error." The Chaplain, seeing sensibly that it was in vain to make any more attempts, contented himself with representing to him, that it would be expected from one of his calling, and that even decency required, that some prayer should be used on the scaffold, and asked his leave, at least to repeat the Lord's prayer there. Lord Ferrers replied, "I always thought it a good prayer; you may use it if you please."

While these discourses were passing, the procession was stopped by the crowd. The earl said he was dry, and wished for some wine and water. The Sheriff said, he was sorry to be obliged to refuse him. By late regulations they were enjoined not to let prisoners drink from the place of imprisonment to that of execution, as great indecencies had been formerly committed by the lower species of criminals getting drunk; "And though," said he, " my lord, I might think myself excusable in overlooking this order out of regard to a person of your lordship's rank, yet there is another reason which, I am sure, will weigh with you :-your lordship is sensible of the greatness of the crowd; we must draw up to some tavern; the confluence would be so great, that it would delay the expedition which your lordship seems so

much to desire." He replied, he was satisfied, adding,-" Then I must be content with this," and took some pigtail tobacco out of his pocket. As they went on, a letter was thrown into his coach; it was from his mistress, to tell him, it was impossible, from the crowd, for her to get up to the spot where he had appointed her to meet and take leave of him, but that she was in a hackney-coach of such a number. He begged Vaillant to order his officers to try to get the hackneycoach up to his. "My Lord," said Vaillant, you have behaved so well hitherto, that I think it is pity to venture unmanning yourself." He was struck, and was satisfied without seeing her. As they drew nigh, he said, "I perceive we are almost arrived; it is time to do what little more I have to do;" and then taking out his watch, gave it to Vaillant, desiring him to accept it as a mark of his gratitude for his kind behaviour, adding, "It is scare worth your acceptance; but I have nothing else; it is a stop-watch, and a pretty accurate one." He gave five guineas to the Chaplain, and took out as much for the executioner. Then giving Vaillant a pocket-book, he begged him to deliver it to Mrs. Clifford, his mistress, with what it contained, and with his most tender regards, saying, "The key of it is to the watch, but I am persuaded you are too much a gentleman to open it." He destined the remainder of the money in his purse to the same person, and with the same tender regards.

When they came to Tyburn, his coach was detained some minutes by the conflux of people; but as soon as the door was opened, he stepped out readily and mounted the scaffold; it was hung with black, by the undertaker, and at the expense of his family. Under the gallows was a new invented stage, to be struck from under him. He showed no kind of fear or discomposure, only just looking at the gallows with a slight motion of dissatisfaction. He said little, kneeled for a moment to the prayer, said, "Lord have mercy upon me, and forgive me my errors,' and immediately mounted the upper stage. He had come pinioned with a black sash, and was unwilling to have his hands tied, or his face covered, but was persuaded to both. When the rope was put round his neck, he turned pale, but recovered his countenance instantly, and was but seven minutes from leaving the coach, to the signal given for striking the stage. As the machine was new, they were not ready at it: his toes touched it, and he suffered a little, having had time, by their bungling, to raise his cap; but the executioner pulled it down again, and they pulled his legs, so that he was soon out of pain, and quite dead in four minutes. He desired not to be stripped and exposed, and Vaillant promised him, though his clothes

must be taken off, that his shirt should not. This decency ended with him: the sheriff's fell to eating and drinking on the scaffold, and helped up one of their friends to drink with them, as he was still hanging, which he did for above an hour, and then was conveyed back with the same pomp to Surgeons' Hall, to be dissected. The executioners fought for the rope, and the one who lost it cried. The mob tore off the black cloth as relics; but the universal crowd behaved with great decency and admiration, as they well might, for sure no exit was ever made with more sensible resolution and with less ostentation.

[In the next letter, Walpole says:]

That wonderful creature, Lord Ferrers, of whom I told you so much in my last, and with whom I am not going to plague you much more, made one of his keepers read Hamlet to him the night before his death after he was in bed-paid all his bills in the morning as if leaving an inn, and half an hour before the Sheriffs fetched him, corrected some verses he had written in the Tower in imitation of the Duke of Buckingham's Epitaph, dubius sed non improbus vixi. What a noble author have I here to add to my catalogue!

SHAPE OF THE EARTH ILLUSTRATED.

We have likened the inequalities on the earth's surface, arising from mountains, valleys, buildings, &c. to the roughness on the rind of an orange, compared with its general mass. The comparison is quite free from exaggeration. The highest mountain

known does not exceed five miles in

perpen

dicular elevation: this is only one 1,600th part of the earth's diameter; consequently, on a globe of sixteen inches in diameter, such a mountain would be represented by a protuberance of not more than one hundredth part of an inch, which is about the thickness of ordinary drawing-paper. Now as there is no entire continent, or even any very extensive tract of land, known, whose general elevation above the sea is any thing like half this quantity, it follows, that if we would construct a correct model of our earth, with its seas, continents, and mountains, on a globe sixteen inches in diameter, the whole of the land, with the exception of a few prominent points and ridges, must be comprised on it within the thickness of thin writing paper; and the highest hill would be represented by the smallest visible grains of sand.—Sir J. Her schel, on Astronomy.

APPEARANCE OF THE EARTH FROM THE MOON. If there be inhabitants in the moon, the earth must present to them the extraordinary of appearance a moon of nearly 2° in diameter, exhibiting the same phases as we see the moon

to do, but immovably fixed in their sky, (or; at least, changing its apparent place only by the small amount of the libration,) while the stars must seem to pass slowly beside and behind it. It will appear clouded with variable spots, and belted with equatorial and tropical zones corresponding to our tradewinds; and it may be doubted whether, in their perpetual change, the outlines of our continents and seas can ever be clearly discerned.-Ibid.

INUNDATION OF THE VAL DE BAGNES.

[MR. BROCKEDON, in his Excursions in the Alps, lately published, relates the following interesting particulars of this catastrophe:]

Around St. Branchier we saw the fearful effects of the great inundation of the Valley of Bagnes in 1818. The height which the torrent attained is seen in the desolation it has left; vast blocks of stone, which were driven and deposited there by the force of the waters, now strew the valley; and sand and pebbles present an arid surface, where rich pasturages were seen before the catastrophe. The quantity and violence of the water suddenly disengaged, and the velocity of its descent, presented a force which the mind may calculate, but cannot conceive.

In the accounts which have been given of this event, the object of the writers has been merely to describe the catastrophe, and the extent of its injuries; but in reading the account of M. Escher de Lenth, published in the Bib. Univ. de Genéve, Sci. et Arts, tom. viii. p. 291, I was most forcibly struck with the unparalleled heroism of the brave men who endeavoured to avert the evil, by opening a channel for the waters, which had, by their accumulation, become a source of terror to the inhabitants of these valleys.

In the spring of 1818, the people of the Valley of Bagnes became alarmed on observing the low state of the waters of the Drance, at a season when the melting of the snows usually enlarged the torrent; and this alarm was increased by the records of similar appearances before the dreadful inundation of 1595, which was then occasioned by the accumulation of the waters behind the débris of a glacier that formed a dam, which remained until the pressure of the water burst the dike, and it rushed through the valley leaving desolation in its course.

In April 1818, some persons went up the valley to ascertain the cause of the deficiency of water, and they discovered that vast masses of the glaciers of Getroz, and avalanches of snow, had fallen into a narrow part of the valley, between Mont Pleureur and Mont Mauvoisin, and formed a dike of ice and snow 600 feet wide and 400 feet high, on a base of 3,000 feet, behind which the waters of the Drance had accumulated, and formed