the spectators did not distinctly see the points of her fingers enter into the lead, and it is very improbable that she lifted any of it with her fingers, if it continued fluid. It is not possible to lift quicksilver in that way, and if the lead was so cold that a small portion could be congealed by the contact of her finger, it is probable that globules or bits of half congealed lead would have fallen back from them into the ladle; nothing resembling which was observed. But after all, although the melting point of lead is 600° Fahrenheit, it does not appear that there is any very great difficulty in immersing the finger for a moment in melted lead. M. Dodart says, that plumbers will often plunge their hands in melted lead to get out pieces of iron thrown in purposely. Mr Tilloch's plumber informed him that any one might draw his finger through melted lead, and having in his hand a laddle full of melted solder, he instantly passed his finger through it. He added, that it was necessary that the finger should be perfectly dry, if otherwise, the person might get what is called a thimble, i. e. some of the metal would stick to the finger, and give a severe burn. Mr Tilloch even learnt from a gentleman, that he saw an iron-founder skim melted iron with his hand, who said that he could only do it when the iron was boiling hot, if of a lower heat it would burn him. This last fact can only be explained by the finger being surrounded by a coating of vapour preventing the contact of the iron, whereas, at the lower heat, a portion of the iron might be congealed by the contact of the cold hand, and give an iron thimble, which burns by its continued contact. Experiment thirteenth was the most singular of this class, unless it was altogether a juggling trick. She poured what seemed melted lead into her mouth, and after chewing produced out of her mouth a small piece of lead. The only doubts are, whether the liquid metal poured into her mouth was really lead, and whether the piece of metal she produced out of it was the same she poured in fluid. Also, of all the experiments which Mr Richardson performed, M. Dodart found that of swallowing melted glass the most difficult of explanation. M. Dodart thinks that it may be done by dexterously using a great quantity of saliva, and accustoming the parts to bear a great degree of heat. To me, this explanation seems inadequate, and if there be no deception in it, even admitting the quantity to be very small, and that, by pouring it in a fine thread of some length through the air, it is as much cooled as is compatible with its fluidity, it furnishes the most remarkable proof of the degree of heat which the human body can sustain, without injury, for the contact is not momentary, but continued until the lead be considerably cooled. Some curious experiments made by Dr Spry of Plymouth, shew, however, that melted lead is not always fatal, even when it reaches the stomach. When the Eddystone lighthouse was burnt down, one of the light-keepers, in attempting to throw a bucket of water upon the burning cupola, was covered with a torrent of melted lead, which burnt his face and shoulders severely. He also asserted that some of it had gone down his throat, but was not believed, as he was not very ill until the day before his death, which took place on the eleventh after the accident. The body was opened by Dr Spry, who found a mass of lead in the stomach weighing seven ounces and a half. As the doctor performed the dissection without any professional witness, the accuracy of his statement was now called in question, and, in defence of his character, he poured melted lead in various quantities, over the throats of fowls and dogs, which survived several days, and were at last killed and dissected in the presence of Dr Huxham, to prove that the lead had actually reached the stomach. In experiment fourteenth there could be no deception. The lead was considerable in quantity, and was just congealed when she struck it repeatedly with the naked sole of her foot. The duration of the contact here, as in the case of the iron, was only momentary, and it must be observed, that the lead was rapidly cooled by being poured out very thin, so as to expose one very large surface to the air and another to the stone. There is a very simple experiment, which shews how rapidly heated bodies are cooled by contact with a good conductor of heat. If a muslin handkerchief, the finer the better, be drawn tight over a metal watch, a red cinder, or even the red hot poker, may be laid upon the muslin without burning or scorching it, even although the cinder be allowed to lie till it cool, or the watch become so hot that it cannot be held in the hand. In regard to the experiments with the red hot shovel, it may be remarked, that the edge was very thin, and would therefore quickly lose its great heat; that her husband, to prove that it was very hot, struck the edge into a piece of dry wood, which it set on fire, and attracted the attention of the spectators, in experiments first and fourth, while the iron was cooling a little. Again, she drew only the very edge along her leg and arm, and it is barely possible that she was so dexterous as not to touch them, and she did not allow it to stop an instant on any spot. But admitting all this, the mass of the iron heated, and the degree of heat seem to have been sufficiently great to have scorched an ordinary person, if approached almost into contact with the skin for a very short time. In experiment second, in which she stamped on hot iron, there was no doubt of the iron being very red, or of the reality of the contact; but it was only instantaneous. Experiment third was not very satisfactory, for, whether from accident or design, she touched her hair very slightly, and transiently, and only with the base or cooler part of the shovel. Indeed, daily experience shews that hair is singed and burnt by a very moderate heat. There could be no doubt of her touching the red hot iron with the surface of her tongue in experiment fifth. But it is less dangerous to touch a heated solid with a moistened surface. Hence, laundresses and many workmen try the heat of their tools by touching them with a wetted finger, and hence also it is, that courage only is required to enable any one to touch red hot iron with the tongue. One of Mr Tilloch's correspondents informed him, that he had repeatedly seen a friend pass over his tongue, without any injury, a red hot poker, and on his assurance, that no hurt would ensue, he ventured to repeat it himself, and found that it may be done with the utmost safety, the only effect being a light taste in the mouth of carbonated hydrogen, and a very slight soreness for a short time. It is only necessary that the tongue be wet with saliva before it is put out of the mouth, and that the poker be of course quickly passed over it. He explains it by supposing, that the sa◄ liva is vaporised, and in fact prevents the iron from even actually touching the cuticle. A plumber also told Mr Tilloch, that he had often passed a piece of red hot iron over his tongue, and seen others do it without injury, but that it was necessary that the iron should be very red; if only of a black heat, nearly but not red hot, it was sure to burn the tongue most severely. Mr Tilloch considers this curious fact as analogous to what takes place with a drop of water let fall on a plate of red hot iron, which takes a much longer time to evaporate than a similar drop let fall on hot iron, which would hardly shine in the dark. Busbeck, the traveller, saw a Turkish dervise roll about a piece of red hot iron several times in his mouth, and heard the saliva hiss as if it were quenched in water. It is easy to put small pieces of live coal into the mouth and champ them between the teeth; they are quickly cooled by the saliva, and prevented from resting in one place. The burning sulphur which Richardson added to render the experiment more frightful, in fact rendered it easier, by covering the red charcoal, which is much hotter than the burning sulphur. In experiment tenth and eleventh there could be no deception, and they indisputably demonstrated great insensibility to the painful sensation excited by heat. The candles used were common moulded and wax candles, burning brightly, and so placed as to produce a very high temperature, at the distance at which their wicks were applied to her arms and feet. I find that I can pass the flame of a very thick candle as slowly and as near my hand and arm as Signora Girardelli. A great deal seems to depend upon moving the candle steadily, and not allowing it to rest any where. This is beautifully illustrated in the singeing of muslin, which, in the process of the manufacture, is drawn over a red hot cylinder to burn away the ooziness and loose threads. But while I have thus endeavoured to reduce the powers of this lady to their real value, still, with every de main in an oven till a leg of mutton was baked, but I must defer what I have to say to another opportunity, as I fear I have already occupied too many of your pages. PERUVIAN MONSTER. duction, the degree in which she is capable of resisting the impression of heat is altogether an object of rational curiosity. She ascribes it to a secret composition which she applies to such parts of her body as she wishes to protect, and even states, that its effect gradually wears off in an hour or two. That she may apply something to her skin and mouth is possible, but DANCING bears and dancing dogs nothing of the kind was visible dur- have long been exhibited, in country ing the exhibition, or when she was places, for the entertainment of the examined soon after it. No applica- vulgar; but, in our day, such shows tion whatever could have any direct seem to have risen in the scale of geneffect in reducing her sense of pain tility,-the dogs now performing their from heat, unless in so far as it guard- evolutions in splendid apartments in ed her body from its direct influence, the principal streets of our capital, by preventing its passage, as a glove and a shaved bear (under the catching or very thick cuticle would do. It name of "Peruvian Monster") reis only in the same way that any ap- ceiving visitants in a commodious caplication could suspend or prevent the ravan on the Earthen Mound! Of all redness which is the invariable conse- quadrupeds, the Brown Bear has been quence of the stimulus of heat ap- subjected to the greatest cruelties in plied to the surface. But the sensi- its confined or domesticated state, if bility to the impression of heat may it can be so called. But probably the be very much modified by peculiari- poor Bruin, whose eyes have been put ty of constitution and by habit, and out, and who, with an iron ring passed this insensibility to the painful action through the cartilage of his nose, is of heat, the Signora must possess in a cudgelled through the country by a very great degree. Again, no appli- vagrant showman, is less to be pitied cation could diminish or destroy the than the miserable wretch which is chemical action of heat in scorching or penned up in a cage, and periodically charring the hair and skin, except by ab- subjected to the suds and the razor. sorbing it, or preventing its passage. Of this we are certain, that the latter These effects, however, require a cer- exhibition savours as much of cruelty, tain mass of matter, although less of and more readily excites disgust. We some kinds than of others. It seems are not, indeed, quite sure about the entirely out of the question, in this propriety of permitting the exhibiinstance, that any application should tion. We believe that inexperienced act as a mere non-conductor of heat persons, observing how readily the 2in producing the effects evinced, as nimal employs the fore-foot as a hand, heat is only rendered latent during and that this organ is furnished with the liquefaction of a solid, or the con- five toes or fingers,-do not take time version of a solid or fluid into vapour. to observe the webs between the toes, But in none of the experiments was or to remark that the largest finger is there any vapour produced, nor any on the outside,-pass over even the melting of a varnish on her skin, both shape of the snout, and much more of which would have been sufficiently the nictitating membrane of the eye, visible, if they had existed at all. Be--and hastily conclude that the crea sides, the Signora asserts, that she has remained in an oven while a leg of mutton was baked; but she will scarcely pretend that she could apply her composition to the membrane lining the air-cells of her lungs. The pretence that she owes her powers to the possession of a secret, I, therefore, look upon as merely intended to satisfy the minds of those persons who would otherwise consider her as an impostor. I meant to have taken notice of Signora Girardelli's proposal to re ture is something preternatural,-a conclusion to which, perhaps, (certainly very improperly,) they are invited by the mysterious language of the exhibitor. We have heard that an exhibition of the same kind was last year attempted at Leeds, but that the Mayor put it down. Being neither a naturalist nor a lawyer, the method he took was to order the animal to be shot;-the vulgar were thus confirmed in their absurd belief, and the worthy magistrate subjected himself to an action of damages. N. REVIEW OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. Canto Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. the Fourth. By Lord BYRON. Svo. London, Murray. 1818. WE are clearly of opinion, that, notwithstanding all the praises which have been lavished upon Lord Byron's poetry by his contemporaries, the deep feeling of the power of his genius is reserved as a luxury for after ages; and that, when the attention of mankind ceases to be distracted by the conflicting claims of those rival poets who now, so honourably for the age, are contending for immortality, the works of Lord Byron will be perused with an admiration which those of no other living writer will be able to awaken. The truth is, that the poetry of this author is not only of a cast superior to most of that of which the present age has been so prolific, but is also of a species quite new and unexampled. In former times, a line that awakened any of the deeper feelings of our nature, and, in the calm of their closets, made mankind alive to those powerful sympathies which relate only to the more extraordinary events of life, was valued as a gem which gave interest and worth to the whole composition of which it formed a part. It was retained in the memory, and enthusiastically repeated whenever the romantic and the tender happened to meet; and that author was supposed to have attained the highest felicity in his art who could adorn his pages by even a scanty portion of such "pearls of price." It has been reserved for Lord Byron to produce whole poems replete with sentiments of this nature. Trained in the discipline of ardent passion, he has been able to look with a steady eye upon those terrible wonders of our common nature, of which other minds have only had some faint and occasional perceptions; and, gifted at the same time with a courage and an openness, which led him fearlessly to attempt the task assigned him, he has trod in the highest sphere of his art, with a majesty and a glory which have eclipsed the splendours of all contemporary genius. We are persuaded that the perusal of the fourth and last Canto of Childe Harold must awaken many interesting reflections in the minds of those who recollect the progress of the author's mind, and can compare the varying tones of feeling by which the different parts of that work are characterized. The fact is, that Lord Byron is, in one sense, of all poets perhaps that ever lived, the most complete and fearless egotist, and his works have uniformly borne the exact impression of the feelings that prevailed in his heart at the moment of composition. When the first two cantos of Childe Harold appeared, we accordingly found them most profusely replenished with the indications of a mind that searched anxiously through life for some form of beauty of which it vainly hoped to discover the reality, and that dwelt upon the past as upon some celestial dream that had given place to substantial and hopeless misery. In his various works which appeared between this period and the publication of the third canto of Childe Harold, the feelings of the author were evidently in some degree quieted,-and pathetic lamentations over the wrecks of antiquity, or gloomy delineations of love and crime, employed the powers of a mind which must ever feel its highest gratification in the indulgence of great and overpowering emotions. No reader can forget the terrible tone of anguish which broke forth in the magic sounds of the third canto,-nor will those who are best able to judge of what is exquisite in poetry ever be able to separate the recollection of the sublime description of an Alpine thunder-storm, from the idea of a mind that found a solace for its own mighty struggles in the tremendous uproar of the elements of Nature. We apprehend it will be equally clear to most readers, that the concluding canto, which is now before us, is characterized by a tone decidedly more subdued; and those who love the poet for his lay, will hail the symptoms which this volume discovers, as the harbingers of feelings infinitely more suitable to our nature, and honourable to the author himself, than the utmost splendour which it is possible to associate with the dark or sceptical propensities of our hearts. We by no means intend it to be believed, from any thing we have now said, that Lord Byron has entirely given up that powerful vein of pathe tic description, or that terrible energy of indignant denunciation which every reader must have recognized as the peculiar characteristic of all his Lordship's former writings. The feelings of a haughty mind that has been once deeply wounded in its pride, or in its love, are not easily healed, though they may close for a season; and perhaps no poet ever represented this instructive characteristic of our mysterious constitution with better effect than Lord Byron himself, in the following stanzas: "But ever and anon of griefs subdued There comes a token like a scorpion's sting, Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued; And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever it may be a sound A tone of music,-summer's eve-or spring, A flower the wind-the ocean-which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound; "And how and why we know not, nor can trace Home to its cloud this lightning of the mind, But feel the shock renew'd, nor can efface The blight and blackening which it leaves behind, Which out of things familiar, undesign'd, When least we deem of such, calls up to view The spectres whom no exorcism can bind, The cold-the changed-perchance the dead-anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost-too many!-yet how few!" We find, accordingly, that in the course of this poem, amidst all the softened tone which it displays, there are occasional bursts of the same indignant spirit which has, on other occasions, so recklessly thrown itself in the face of mankind. We do not wish to quote the most remarkable of these; we mean the curse pronounced in the middle of the poem; because powerful though it be, considered merely as a proof of the fearful ener gy of the author's talents, it appears to us, like every thing else of the same kind which his works contain, much more worthy of being omitted than inserted. We rather choose, therefore, to present, in the first place, such extracts as evince the power of the author, without being associated with any of those terrible passions which degrade and ravage humanity. Our readers may take the following splendid description of an autumnal sunset in Italy. "The Moon is up, and yet it is not night- crest Floats through the azure air-an island of the blest! "A single star is at her side, and reigns With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still Yon sunny sea heaves brightly, and remains Roll'd o'er the peak of the far Rhætian hill, As Day and Night contending were, until Nature reclaim d her order :-gently flows The deep-dyed Brenta, where their hues instil The odorous purple of a new-born rose, Which streams upon her stream, and glass'd within it glows, "Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar, From the rich sunset to the rising star, strews Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till-'tis gone-and all is gray." The following lines, intended to communicate the poet's admiration of the author of the "Jerusalem," appear to us to conclude with one of the finest bursts of generous indignation that has ever been expressed. "And Tasso is their glory and their shame. Hark to his strain! and then survey his cell! And see how dearly earn'd Torquato's fame, And where Alfonso bade his poet dwell: |