lished a steam-packet on the Thames, to ply between Gravesend and London," which was the first that did so for public accommodation, although Mr. Laurence, of Bristol, who introduced a steamboat on the Severn soon after the successful operations on the Clyde, had her carried to London (through the canals) to ply on the Thames; but, from the opposition of the watermen to the innovation, he was in the end obliged to take her to her first station." In 1815 a steamboat made a passage from Glasgow to London; in 1818 one went from New York to New Orleans; and in 1820 a service of steampackets was established between Holyhead and Dublin. In 1838 steam communication between Great Britain and America was established. On April 4 of that year the Sirius, a ship of 700 tons burden and of 250 horse-power, sailed from Cork; and on April 8 the Great Western, a ship of 1340 tons and 450 horse-power, sailed from Bristol. Both arrived at New York on the same day-April 23-the Sirius in the morning, and the Great Western in the afternoon. Henceforth steamvessels became very largely employed for long voyages, and the old idea that they were suitable only for short passages was quite abandoned. In concluding this brief sketch of the introduction of steam-navigation we may mention that the screw-propeller, which has almost driven paddle-wheels out of the field, first began to be generally used about 1840. As early as 1804, however, Stevens tried at New York a vessel fitted with a screw-propeller, driven by one of Boulton & Watt's engines.

Steam-communication had, as we have seen, its opponents in early days; it has its opponents still. Mr. John Ruskin-a name never to be pronounced without reverence by all who admire great genius, unflinching courage, and lofty morality— has frequently lifted up his voice against our railway system and the havoc it plays in marring the loveliness of the finest natural scenery. "You think," he writes in one of the early numbers of Fors Clavigera, "it a great triumph to make the sun draw brown landscapes for you. That was also a dis

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covery, and some day may be useful. But the sun had drawn landscapes before for you, not in brown, but in green, and blue, and all imaginable colors, here in England. Not one of you ever looked at them then; not one of you cares for the loss of them now, when you have shut the sun out with smoke, so that he can draw nothing more except brown blots through a hole in a box. There was a rocky valley between Buxton and Bakewell once upon a time, divine as the Vale of Tempe; you might have seen the gods there morning and evening-Apollo and all the sweet Muses of the Light-walking in fair procession on the lawns of it, and to and fro among the pinnacles of its crags. You cared neither for gods nor grass, but for cash (which you did not know the way to get); you thought you would get it by what the Times calls 'railroad enterprise.' You enterprised a railroad through the valley; you blasted its rocks away, heaped thousands of tons of shale into its lovely stream. The valley is gone, and the gods with it; and now every fool in Buxton can be at Bakewell in half an hour, and every fool in Bakewell at Buxton; which you think a lucrative process of exchange-you fools everywhere." So far, no doubt, Mr. Ruskin's denunciations of railways are well enough founded. The steam-engine unquestionably detracts from the beauties of scenery; but when we consider the many advantages which railways bring in their train we cannot but wonder that Mr. Ruskin should be so blind to them. To the tired artisan and the overworked clerk they afford the means of breathing for a few hours the fresh country air, which otherwise they might never have the opportunity of enjoying. Before the railway, a “day in the country" was the privilege of but few towns-people; now it is the privilege of many. If a few bits of choice scenery have been destroyed by the inroads of the "iron horse," it must be remembered that to thousands railways have brought the boon of enabling them to revel in country delights which had formerly been reserved for a few wealthy tourists.

The beneficial effects of steam-communication on society and on commerce have been so often recapitulated that it would be

idle to dwell on them. It has welded into closer intercourse the different sections of society; it has united the towns and villages of the kingdom by one continuous net-work; it has done much to place the inhabitant of the metropolis and the inhabitant of the remote country village on a footing of equality as regards intelligence and as regards commercial advantages. By the increased facilities it affords for travelling it has opened. men's minds and done away with multitudes of absurd prejudices. To the business man it has proved an unmixed benefit. It has extended the market for his goods; it has saved his time, and consequently his money; and it has added greatly to the wealth of the country. Charles Mackay sings no less wisely than beautifully when he exclaims:

"No poetry in railways! Foolish thought

Of a dull brain, to no fine music wrought,
By Mammon dazzled! Though the people prize
The gold untold, yet shall not we despise
The triumphs of our time, or fail to see
Of pregnant mind the fruitful progeny,
Ushering the daylight of the world's new morn.
Look up, ye doubters! be no more forlorn!
Smooth your rough brows, ye little wise! rejoice,
Ye who despond! and with exulting voice
Salute, ye earnest spirits of our time,

The Young Improvement ripening to her prime,
Who, in the fulness of her genial youth,
Prepares the way for Freedom and for Truth;
And break the barriers that, since earth began,
Have made mankind a foreigner to man.
Lay down your rails, ye nations, near and far;
Yoke your full trains to Steam's triumphal car;
Link town to town; and in these iron bands
Unite the strange and oft-embattled lands.

Peace and Improvement round each train shall soar,
And Knowledge light the Ignorance of yore;

Men joined in amity shall wonder long

That Hate had power to lead their fathers wrong;

Or that false glory lured their hearts astray,
And made it virtuous and sublime to slay."

THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.

COOKE, WHEATSTONE, AND OTHERS.

It has often been observed, that of all the many wonderful inventions which in recent ages have altered and improved the face of the world, none is more striking and extraordinary than the electric telegraph. The simple rustic, as he wanders along the dusty highway, sees the long, bare poles with the iron wires stretched along them, motionless save when the passing breeze causes them to vibrate; and, however ignorant he may be, he knows that along these wires messages of life and death from perhaps the farthest corner of the land are passing and repassing, and that should any mischance, such as a tempest of wind, occur to break them, the interruption of public business caused by the accident would be greater than if, a century ago, a snow-storm or other casualty had prevented the transmission of her Majesty's mails. How he accounts for this wonderful phenomenon will depend upon the degree of culture to which. he has attained. If in a very primitive condition, it is not impossible that he will (as the present writer, at an early period of his existence, remembers to have done) anxiously scan the wires for the piece of paper containing the message that is floated along them, and, as he scans them in vain, will sagaciously conclude that the piece of paper is invisible owing to the incredible speed with which it is wafted along. If, however, his education has been superior to allowing him to fall into such a childish piece of ignorance as this, he will veil his want of knowledge under a cloud of words, and, like many of his betters-shall we say the majority of people?-sum up his

comments on the subject in the remark, "Wonderful thing, electricity!" Most persons, except those practically connected with the matter, are content to reap the fruits of that wonderworking power, without bothering themselves about what it is, or by what means it has been pressed into the service of mankind. Into the details of telegraphic manipulation and apparatus we do not propose to enter. To give some account of the successive steps by which the electric telegraph has been elevated from something little better than the position of a scientific toy to a work of the greatest practical importance and value, is the object of the present chapter.

From the earliest times the want was felt of some instrument which would enable signals to be communicated to those at a distance. Especially in the time of war was this want experienced. It was a matter of the greatest consequence to be able to communicate with allies, so that the various divisions of an army should be acquainted with each other's movements or warned of the approach of a common foe. Beaconfires were, of course, the earliest and most convenient mode of doing this, and these were employed for many ages, from Scriptural times down to days comparatively modern. Various more or less ingenious devices, mostly worked by the aid of the telescope, were by-and-by introduced, none of them, however, of very much practical importance. These, therefore, we need not take up space by enumerating, though the latest of them merits a passing notice. It originated thus: A Frenchman, Claude Chappé, when at school in a religious establishment at Angers, contrived an apparatus consisting of a post bearing a revolving beam and circulatory arms, with which he conveyed signals to three of his brothers who were at a school about half a league distant, and read them off with a telescope. The experiences of his youth were not lost upon him, and in 1792 he laid his plans before the French Legislature, stating that "the speed of the correspondence would be such that the legislative body would be able to send their orders to the frontier, and receive an answer back, during the continuance of a single sitting."