I now have in my house, I take this mode of informing you that I charge two retorts with 240lbs. of coal, half Cannel and half Newcastle, from which I extract 1000 cubic feet of gas. To obtain this quantity of gas, when the retorts are cold, I use from 100 to 110lbs. of common coals, but when they are in a working state, that is to say, when they are once red hot, the carbonizing fuel amounts to about 25lb. per retort. The bulk of gas thus obtained, supplies 40 Argand's lamps, of the large size, for four hours per night, during the long winter evenings, together with eight Argand's lamps and about 22 single cock-spur burners, for three hours per night, in addition to which my printers employ 16 cock-spur burners for ten hours per day to heat their plates instead of charcoal fire. In the depth of winter we charge two retorts per day, but upon an average we work 365 retorts in 365 days. Now 365 retorts containing 12lb. of coal each, make 43800lb. which is equal to ten chaldrons of Newcastle and eight tons of Cannel coal. per £ s. d. - 32 10 0 0 · 40 O 10 Chaldrons of Newcastle coals, at 65s. make 0 30 0 0 Total expense of the gas-light 151 15 0 DEDUCT. 23 Chaldrons of coke, at 60s. per chaldron Ammoniacal liquor Tar 2000 3000 Nett expenses of gas-lights The lights used in the establishment, prior to the gas £119 15 Balance in favour of gas for one year Such, (adds Mr. Ackerman,) is the simple statement of my present system of lighting, the brilliancy of which when contrasted with our former lights, bears the same comparison to them as a bright summer sunshine does to a murky November day; nor are we as formerly suffocated with the effluvia of charcoal, nor the fumes of candles and lamps. In addition to this the damage sustained by the spilling of oil and tallow upon prints, drawing books and papers, &c. amounted annually to upwards of £50. All the workmen emVOL. VI. N. S. F ployed in my establishment consider the gas-lights as the greatest blessing, and I have only to add that the light we now enjoy, were it to be produced by means of Argand's lamps, or candles, would cost at least £350 per annum. I am with respect, Yours, Strand, March 13, 1815. With regard to the apparatus and machinery employed for the production and use of the gas, we cannot of course be expected to give in this place any description; indeed such description would be altogether unintelligible without the assistance of plates. Suffice it to say that the coal is introduced into iron cylinders called retorts, which being rendered airtight and placed upon the fire, the gaseous products are made to ascend together with other productions in the form of liquid. These last are conveyed into proper receptacles, while the gaseous matter is conducted by pipes into places for purification; and then, thus purified, made to pass into the several conduits for use. The products of coal treated in this manner, are, beside the gas in question, coke, coal tar, and an ammoniacal fluid, all of which are materials of much value and use; and, as we have seen by Mr. Ackerman's statement, cause a very considerable deduction of the required expenditure in the production of the gas. Mr. Accum concludes his treatise by replying to objections which have been made to the introduction of gas-lights, upon the supposition that their general adoption would expose us to innumerable accidents, from the inflammable nature of 'the gas, and the explosion of the apparatus in which it is prepared, or the bursting of the pipes by which it is con'veyed.' These apprehensions he proves to be all ideal and unfounded. • In fact (he says) no danger can arise from the application of gaslights in any way, but what is common to candle-light and lamps of all kinds, and is the fault of none of them. Even in this case the gas lights are less hazardous. There is no risk of those accidents which often happen from the guttering or burning down of candles, or from carelessly snuffing them. The gas light lamps and burners must necessarily be fixed to one place, and therefore cannot fall or otherwise become deranged without being immediately extinguished. Besides the gas-light flames emit no sparks, nor are any embers detached from them. As a proof of the comparative safety of the gas-lights, it need only be stated, that the Fire Offices engage themselves to insure Cotton Mills and other public works at a less premium where gas-lights are used, than in the case of any other lights.' Upon the whole, we may pronounce this work to be very creditable to its Author. The plates are sufficiently well exe cuted, and fully answer the purposes of illustration. There are two or three errors in the references; but they are too unimportant to be pointed out. Art. VII. Sancho, or the Proverbialist, 12mo. pp. 181. Price 5s. Cadell and Davies, 1816. THE design of this satirical narrative, is to expose the absurdity of some of those short, pithy, pointed, popular maxims, 'called Proverbs', as practical rules of conduct. Those which the Author selects from the code of 'national wisdom,' are of the most unpretending order, but their extensive currency, and their adaptation to the common propensities of our nature, render them sufficiently formidable to attract the attention of the Christian moralist, although there is reason to fear that all the artillery of ridicule will be inadequate to dislodge them from the heart. They consist of the following: Take care of 'Number One;' Do at Rome as they do at Rome;' Many men, many minds;'Seeing is believing;' Never too late to repent;" The nearer the Church the farther from God;' • Nullum numen abest si sit prudentia;' An honest man's 'the noblest work of God;' A warm enemy makes a warm 'friend;' and finally, He is nobody's enemy but his own.' As at least some of these oracular absurdities are such as few would deliberately adopt to their full extent, as the regulating principle of their actions, the Author has been led to suppose a rather extreme case of implicit imbecility in the person of his hero, not quite consistent perhaps with the respectability of character to which he afterwards attains; and to employ a broader style than would have been proper in the close depiction of real life. Some of the transitions described as taking place in the opinions and moral habits of Sancho, are, however, rather too violent, and partake too much of the facility of mechanism : but for this the Author may plead dramatic precedents without number. The following is the portrait of Aunt Winifred. 'She was a little, round, well-conditioned person, with a remarkable air of self-complacency. Her eye was rather dull; her mouth had that sort of gentle elevation of the corners, which is not an unusual symbol of satisfaction with ourselves, and of a kind of quiet contempt for others. She was neatness itself; so that if the Hindoos, who have, it is said, at least thirty thousand divinities, and therefore must have a god or goddess for almost every thing, should ever determine to erect a pagoda to the Goddess of Neatness, they would, I am persuaded, feel a very serious loss indeed in my aunt, as the priestess of it. She was, moreover, so remarkably punctual as to render any clock or watch almost unnecessary in the place where she lived.' pp. 1-2. When, from Lady-day to Michaelmas, she appeared in fine weather at the sheep-fold (for she was scrupulously attentive to her health) to catch the morning breath of the sheep, it was precisely eight o'clock. When she stooped in the broad, sunny, gravel walk, to gather agrimony or rosemary for her breakfast, it was precisely nine. At five minutes after nine her bell rang-not for family prayers-I wish it had but for Harry to bring Pug and two cats their breakfast. Exactly ten minutes after this, the first hissings of her own urn were heard; and, at precisely ten, this great business in the life of an idle person being accomplished, the breakfast vanished-crumbs and all. My aunt was constitutionally cautious. The high sense she had learned to entertain of her own value to the community, had so strengthened this inbred tendency, that the greatest part of every day was spent in considering how the rest of it might be spent in safety. Some of her neighbours were even scandalous enough to say, that, if she took a long journey, she was always " booked." And, as to weather, she was at once the barometer and thermometer of the neighbourhood in her own person. The minutest variations of cold and heat, of damp and dry, might be traced, with the greatest accuracy, in the colour and consistency of her shawl and gloves. "Having thus noticed her physical properties, I must now proceed to her moral qualifications. She was a person, then, as somebody says, "of more temper than passions." The first discovered itself so strongly in the circle of the family, that, whoever else might question its energy, the footman, the housemaid, and the cook were never heard (though the subject was most dutifully made the perpetual topic of cuisinery discussion), to express a doubt upon the subject. As to her passions, I really believe that the strongest was the love of herself, and of myself. I speak of this love of the two as a single passion, because, I think, she chiefly loved me as her own property.' pp. 3-5. But that peculiarity in the moral constitution of the old lady, which is of the most prominent importance in the Narrative, was, that she was passionately addicted to proverbs.' As for the "Proverbs of Solomon," I have observed that the lovers of other proverbs are very often the most ignorant of these. Thus, most certainly, was it with my aunt. She had no acquaintance with Solomon; but with every uninspired oracle of this kind she had an almost incredible familiarity. She ate, she drank, she walked, she lived, and, what was worse, as I had no choice in the matter, she constrained me to eat, to drink, to walk, to live, by proverbs.'. pp. 7-8.. Aunt Rachel is the complete contrast to her Sister, except that she is represented as 'quite as neat, and nearly as punctual." 'Her repugnance to a proverb, or maxim, or any thing approaching to a neat, pointed, pithy, oracular, sententious saying,' is in pretty exact proportion to her sister's unbounded reverence for them. But Aunt Rachel's character will be best illustrated by an anecdote. Sancho gets into sad disgrace by too literally acting up to his Aunt Winifred's solemnly reiterated maxim to take care of Number One.' 'that I have done.' This is all,' exclaims the boy, "My dear boy," said the good natured Rachel, " you quite mistake the matter; and as your aunt is too unwell just now to explain herself, I, in my poor way, will do it for her. She could mean no more by taking care of Number One,' than that it was every person's duty to take care of himself. But then the best way to take care of yourself, Sancho, is to please God, and to be just and kind to others."" "But aunt," said I, "there is nothing about pleasing God, and being good and kind to others, in the proverb." "No, there is not," she replied; "but still my sister meant all this, and a great deal more, as she would soon convince you, Sancho, if she were well. You understood the proverb to mean that you should indulge yourself in all that pleased you best at the moment; your aunt meant that you should do what was best for yourself upon the whole." 'Now, not a word of this last distinction did I understand. But as I held my tongue-which is a rule I earnestly recommend to all persons in similar circumstances-my aunt Rachel did not find me out, and accordingly proceeded, 666 My dear Sancho," she said, no man ever became good or great who was very fond of himself; good and great men live for others. Look there, my boy;" and I turned my eyes to a fine сору of Rubens' Descent from the Cross, to which she pointed-" The Son of God," said she, I came down to live and to die for others." pp. 40-41. 66 Sancho is at length sent to college. He there becomes acquainted with one of that very numerous class of 'honest fellows,' designated by the phrase, "He is nobody's enemy but his own,' We suspect the delineation is but too faithful a copy of many an original. The following incident is, we think, exceedingly happy and well timed. A society of Churchmen, who had for the last century been engaged, among other, benevolent designs, in conveying the knowledge of Christianity to the Heathen, convened a meeting near my aunt's mansion-house, to consider the means of extending to about sixty millions of poor idolatrous Hindoos the knowledge of Christianity. Now, whatever Religion and sound Wisdom might urge upon so plain a point, mere Prudence could not but be alarmed at an attempt, however quiet, to disturb the creed of sixty millions of people. Accordingly, having entered the assembly, I rose, and to the admiration of my aunt, made the following oration. "I rise, Sir, to oppose the motion which has been submitted to this assembly on the following grounds: "In the first place, the Hindoos are savages, and Christianity was not designed for savages. "In the second place, the religion of the Hindoos is a very good religion-why, then, should we try to change it? "In the third place, their religion has made them excellent slaves |