A writer who witnessed this discovery considers they must have been covered up 'many hundreds of years.' Early in 1862, a man in Tyr Nicholas Colliery, Cwm Tylery, near Newport, found in the nineinch bed of coal a live frog. The hole it was found in was not more than three and a half inches in diameter. There was a slight hollow over the coal where it was found; and the frog when released commenced moving about, but seemed larger and more lively next day. This was two hundred yards below the surface. In 1731 a toad was found in the heart of an old oak near Nantz, without any visible entrance to its habitation. Near Caen, in an elm at about four feet above the earth and exactly in the centre of the tree, a live toad of middle size, but lean, was discovered. When an opening was made, it 'scuttled away hastily.' This tree is also said to have been firm and sound. Some twenty years ago, in course of the excavations that were made in connection with the Hartlepool waterworks, the workmen found a toad imbedded in a block of magnesian limestone at a depth of twenty-five feet from the surface. The toad's eyes shone with unusual brilliancy, and it was full of vivacity on its liberation. The creature continued for some time in the possession of Mr Spence Horner, the President of the Natural History Society, and for a long period was in as lively a state as when found. Similar instances might be quoted as having occurred at Selksworth near Sunderland, at Kilmarnock, at some quarries near Cheltenham, and in other places. Only three years ago there was published a well-authenticated instance of a frog having been discovered in the root of an oak-tree-at least two hundred years old-near Balham, Surrey. How long it is possible for frogs to live without air and food, has been a matter of experiment many times; but in the face of wellestablished instances like those quoted, it is difficult to conduct experiments that will be considered as being of a conclusive character. That these creatures should be able to live not for centuries only but for ages, appears contradictory to all reason and common-sense. In some cases, frogs have been found in Cretaceous rocks. The oldest fossil toads and frogs occur in Tertiary rocks. If, therefore, those found in Cretaceous rocks had been there from their formation, it would be equivalent to saying that the live frog could be ages and ages older than its fossil relative. To most people, such a declaration would be the height of absurdity. If thoroughly inquired into, it would probably be discovered that in each case there was a fissure in the rocks or trees in which frogs have been found, large enough for the admission of water and the embryo frog which has developed there. It has been assumed by some that the frog naturally contains an acid, which by chemical action on the stone provides that the space at the frog's disposal shall be as large as its body. A second hypothesis is, that not the egg but the primary frog, scarcely larger than the egg itself, falls into the rock or tree, and continues to grow, deriving air and food in the form of small insects from the water that penetrates to its abode. Certain it is that frogs, when artificially secured in air-tight and water-tight vessels, speedily die. Experiments made by members of the French Academy a century ago proved this. Milne Edwards early in the present century inclosed frogs in vessels made impervious to air, and the creatures speedily perished. Three frogs were once inclosed in a close box for eighteen months, at the end of which time one was dead, and the remainder in a dying condition. Dr Macartney buried a toad in a vessel covered with a slate about a foot deep in the ground. At the end of a fortnight it seemed well and as plump as before. When, however, he inclosed the same toad in an air-tight vessel and buried it, it soon died, and at the end of a week was much decayed. Dr Buckland made some experiments which are claimed as conclusive. He placed twelve toads separately in twelve holes cut in blocks of hard flinty sandstone. They were firmly sealed in. The imprisoned animals were buried three feet deep on November 26, 1825. At the same time, four toads were deposited in holes cut in the heart of an apple-tree and the opening securely plugged. Four others were also placed in plasterof-Paris covered with luting. On December 10, 1826, all the buried toads were examined. All in the hard stone and in the tree, and two in the plaster-of-Paris, were dead. The remainder were dying; but some placed in a softer stone were in tolerably good health, and some were actually fatter than when placed in the holes. From this it would appear that in positions where water can penetrate, frogs may live, and even thrive, although buried at a considerable depth, entirely away from the light and any visible means of subsistence. A YEAR'S WORK AT THE MINT. THE recently issued Report of the Deputy-master of the Mint, the Hon. C. W. Fremantle, giving an account of the operations of that department for the year 1884, is a more than usually interesting document. From it we learn that the amount of gold coined during the year exceeded by more than a million the amount coined in 1883, while the silver coinage was but little in excess of the average. The coinage of bronze, however, was larger than in any year since 1875. The total weight of metal melted down during the twelve months was 470 tons, made up as follows-a certain proportion of alloy being of course included-gold, 67 tons; silver, 198 tons; and bronze, 205 tons. The total number of coins struck out of this metal was 65,295,382, giving an average of more than 1,200,000 pieces per week throughout the year. Out of these, however, 8,932,081 pieces did not come within the limits of the standard legal weight, so that the number of pieces available for issue was reduced to 56,363,301, the value of these good pieces being, real or nominal, £3,157,966, 10s. 1d. Of this amount, £3,070,292, 10s. 5d. (41,093,301 pieces) consisted of imperial coinage, the remaining £87,673, 19s. 8d (15,270,000 pieces) being colonial coinage, for Canada, Jamaica, Hongkong, &c. All this coinage, both imperial and colonial, has been executed at the Mint, its increased coining-power rendering it unnecessary that any portion of the work of coinage should be intrusted to private firms. The greatest number of coins struck of any denomination was about 11,700,000, consisting, as will readily be supposed, of pence. Halfpence came next in point of numbers, nearly 7,000,000 of this coin being struck. The number of farthings struck was over 5,700,000, a seemingly large number, considering the present small general circulation of this coin. Of shillings, nearly 4,000,000 were coined; sixpences, over 3,400,000; threepences, over 3,300,000. Sovereigns and halfSovereigns were coined to the number of over 1,700,000 and 1,100,000 respectively. Of colonial coinages, that of bronze half-cents for the Straits Settlements was numerically largest, 4,000,000 of this coin being struck during the year. The profit, or seignorage as it is termed, for the year on the coinage of silver amounted to the sum of £91,870, silver bullion being purchased by the Mint for coinage at an average market price of 4s. 24d. per ounce, and issued in the shape of coin at the rate of 5s. 6d. per ounce, thus leaving a seignorage of 1s. 34d. per ounce. The seignorage on bronze coinage was unusually heavy, amounting to £72,000, the very large amount of bronze coinage executed, and the cheap rate at which bronze bars were bought in the market, both contributing to this result. After disbursements were deducted, the net profit realised on the transactions of the Mint for the year was £87,700, this being the largest amount realised in the last thirteen years, with the exception of 1883, when it was £135,713, the average net annual profit for the thirteen years being £23,000. In addition to the money coinages, over 10,000 medals of different kinds were struck at the Mint during the year, some 1100 of which, in gold, silver, and bronze, were for the Inter national Health Exhibition. The year 1884 was an exceptional one in respect to the importation of sovereigns from Australia. From 1875 to 1883 inclusive, the average yearly amount of sovereigns received from that country by the Bank of England was nearly 2,500,000; but last year the number was reduced to 284,040, or little more than a tenth of the usual amount. This is partly owing to the large loans raised in London by the Australian colonies, and the consequent exportation of sovereigns from this country. Another reason is that the reserves in the Australian banks were getting low, and it was found necessary to replenish them with gold from this country. The number of prosecutions for counterfeit coining during the year was 258, and the number of prisoners 500; as compared with 236 prosecutions and 460 prisoners in 1883; but the increase is in connection with metropolitan prosecutions only, the country prosecutions showing a decrease. The number of visitors admitted to view the Mint during the year was 8161. THE GOLDEN VIOLET. In the latest dramatic effort of Lord Tennyson, in that fine poem and stirring drama of Becket, there occurs in the Prologue a few words spoken by Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine referring to the 'golden violet,' which it may interest our readers to know had its origin with the troubadours of the thirteenth century. They established a tribunal called the Court of Love at Aix, in Provence, which was composed of ladies and gentlemen of the highest rank, who settled all questions relating to love and marriage with the greatest gravity. Rules were laid down for general observance, to which strict adherence was enforced; and so flourishing was this Society, that similar ones were soon established in the neighbouring provinces. The most remarkable of these in later years was at Toulouse, and numbered amongst its members the Countess de Bauffremont, the Marchioness de Saluce, the beautiful Brunissende, niece of Cardinal Talleyrand, and many other names, illustrious in the history of those times. Madame de Genlis says that the first literary réunions in France owe their origin to these meetings. Their formation was a singular feature of the time; for at that period Europe was dis tracted by commotion and civil war, and the clangour of arms was heard everywhere. But women can distract themselves from such things, as they can also from the dominion of pain, and Frenchwomen of the highest rank and beauty contended for the prize of The Golden Violet, which was given by way of encouragement to youthful competitors for the best composition either in poetry or prose. But poetry held the foremost place; nor were charades and enigmas considered unworthy of notice; and however trivial the subjects considered may at first sight appear, it must be remembered that the critical discussions took place between the chivalrous men of the middle ages, and by them the prize was awarded. This will explain the pride with which Eleanor of Aquitaine says: "I speak after my fancies, for I am a troubadour, you know, and won the violet at Toulouse; but my voice harsh here, not in tune-a nightingale out of season; for marriage, rose or no rose, has killed the golden violet.' A PORTRAIT. DARK eyes, from which a pure, calm soul looks out; And follows, flying, all her movements sweet. Nor is she frivolous this gleesome girl; Her heart is open to the poor and sad; Haunt thy calm dreams nor wait thy pillow nigh Thy presence gladdens earth; may all things fair Be thine own handmaids whilst thou dwellest there! Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Pater noster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH All Rights Reserved. POPULAR LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART Fifth Series ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832 CONDUCTED BY R. CHAMBERS (SECUNDUS) No. 85.-VOL. II. SATURDAY, AUGUST 15, 1885. ROUND FLAMBOROUGH HEAD. 'LINE-OF-BATTLE-SHIP, ahoy!' The lusty hail rouses the skipper of the Volsung as he is reclining lazily in the well of the canoe, with his legs dangling picturesquely overboard, and his half-closed eyes dreamily watching the throat of the mainsail, from whose peak the burgee of the Royal Canoe Club flutters bravely; and meditates, as he listens to the music of the waters, upon the utter freedom and perfect gladness of a canoeist's life. A coble is running free across our bows before a westering breeze, and the man at the tiller, with a broad grin on his jolly bronzed face, is nodding a cheery greeting. Morning, Bob. How much longer will the tide run?' 'An hour an' more yet, sir.-You'll make the Head easy!' And on the Trixie rushes through the water, her white sides gleaming in the sun as she heads for the distant harbour of Bridlington, whilst the Volsung is steered for a speck out seawards which is bobbing on the waves. 'North Smithie buoy,' reports the pilot as we draw abreast the great red-and-white ringed cylinder, round which the tide is running like a millrace, as though it would tear it from its moorings twenty-seven feet below. 'Keep her away a couple of points,' is the order. The rudder moves gently; the sheet is slacked off, and the little craft slips merrily onward towards the cliffs of Flamborough. The muffled moan of the surf on shore away on the port beam grows louder, and our lookoutman catches now and again a long line of white where the rollers are breaking on the rocks. A toss, a plunge, and splash comes a burst of foaming water over the bows along the deck, and we are in a reach of broken waves; for there is an 'overfall' here-foul ground below, over which the currents eddy and swirl, especially at tide-turn, however calm a day it be. But the skipper has been through this before, and so PRICE 1d. goes straight at the crested surges steadily; and soon we are rocking on smoother waters, where the long swell comes rolling in from the open sea, and can look about at the glorious scene around. How grand the Head looks, towering straight out of ocean, as though it knows what an important point it is upon the seaman's chart, and how he shapes his course by its wave-worn front. A little back from the cliff-line stands the white tower of the lighthouse, shimmering in the rays of the sun, which, catching the glass walls of the lantern-room, flash them into a huge diamond of dazzling brightness. Flamborough Head light is one of the finest in the world, a revolving one, which shines once every halfminute, and can be seen twenty-one miles away. Two whites to one red Indicates Flambro' Head, says the North Sea pilot-book, meaning that it shows two white lights in succession and then a red. It is a dioptric light, having one powerful lamp, round which a circular frame of six faces, composed of great glass prisms, revolves by clockwork; the third and sixth faces having sheets of ruby glass before them to give the red effect to the light. The cost of the lantern only was seven thousand pounds. When the sun has sunk behind the Yorkshire wolds, its work begins; the lamp is lighted, and the clockwork wound. Then the watch pacing steamer's deck, Jack Collier taking his 'trick at the wheel,' and the bluff yawlsman riding to his nets far out at sea, will see a tiny point of light grow and grow, until a brilliant beam of brightness flashes across the darkness, and then dies down again and leaves all black awhile. Then a ruby glimmer begins to show, and flashes into a star, which throws a crimson glare upon the waves. To the right is the 'old lighthouse,' a tower of ancient date, surmounted by a flagstaff, from which a red-and-white striped pennant is flying. Long years ago, tradition says, it was used to burn a beacon, to warn the mariner from the dangerous coast; now, it is a signal-station, so All along the coast are openings in the rocks to tiny cavelets; and many a grim tale can the fisher-folk tell how, after fierce gales when gallant ships have disappeared, they have found crushed mangled bodies jammed in those clefts, or lying tangled in the 'oarweed' of the rocks below; and they will point out a cave some forty feet above high-water mark where once a desperate sailor, who had seen his mates sucked down by the greedy breakers, climbed, and was found all gashed and bruised long after by seagull-hunting fisher-lads. that the passing ship can send word of her the Queen out into the open sea again, her whereabouts to her owners, at the other side majesty certainly bears a striking resemblance of the Atlantic perhaps. To the left, at the to a lady in all the glory of a modern 'dressedge of the point, is a battery, where, during improver.' fogs, a rocket is thrown up every ten minutes, which bursts high up with a loud report; whilst beneath is the opening to a long dark cavern, where the waters gurgle sullenly and lap the rocky walls in blackness invisible. Around us, the wavelets dance joyously in the sunlight, with 'Flamborough divers' and sea-parrots darting into them and out again; whilst steamers are screwing their way along, bound north, smoking bravely, and spouting the water from the engine-room ports, and 'Geordies' (or colliers), dirty schooners, and lumbering brigs, with now and then a smarter brigantine or trim barque, Ten minutes' run brings us to one of the are working their way before the steady land-glories of Flamborough, the great 'Five-arch breeze. Farther out, a splendid four-masted ship, Cave.' A lofty pointed archway leads in from her snowy canvas drawing every stitch-with the sea; and paddling steadily under it, we are stun'sails alow and aloft is gliding majestically in a huge vaulted chamber, whose groined roof southward, piling up a heap of sparkling water springs from one massive central column of under her bows, which foams under her counter ragged chalk, and whose floor is far down under and streams away in a broad hissing track the translucent emerald water, sixteen feet below. behind. Two passages lead inward, and in the gloom the water sobs in unseen hollows as the Volsung cautiously works her way along the larger of the two, until a fear seizes the skipper lest, in the darkness, the tide, which has begun to flow, may lift the tiny craft on to some point of rock, and then surging back, cause her to heel over and roll the crew out into the black deep water; so he shouts the order, 'Go astern;' and she shoots out through the most northerly opening into the bright sunlight again. But whilst we have been watching the passing ships, the wind and tide have borne us onward, and we just get a glimpse of Silex Bay, where the sandy beach gives a landing for the coastguards living in that group of white cottages up there, and whose entrance is guarded by Adam and Eve'-two rocks which stand out on either hand; then huge cliffs shut it in, and we sail under a grim wall of chalk towering two hundred feet above us into the sky. Kittiwakes and gulls sun themselves in the ledges, and the shrill note of the curlew echoes from the land; whilst the warm sun is over all, bathing the glaring cliffs and shining upon green waters, until, far down, can be seen the long seaweeds waving over the sunken rocks, a very picture of peace and quiet. But a terrible place is this when the wild gale is lashing the North Sea into fury, and sending huge seas thundering against these cliffs, and whirling the foam-scud up into the black sky, and driving it far inland in big flakes. Then the ill-fated vessel caught by those breakers is lost, and the harsh scream of the seabird and shrieking storm-blast are the requiem of the doomed crew aboard. The breeze has died away inshore here, so we will get the canvas stowed snugly out of the way. 'Stand by! Ready! Hoist away! Belay!' The tiny blocks squeak musically; there is a flutter of white canvas, and then the sprit-mainsail is brailed up close against the mast. 'Out paddle! Easy ahead.' Now a picturesque little bay breaks the cliffline with two curious pillar-rocks, rising up some distance from the land amongst the waves, known as the 'King and Queen.' The King has a wide archway piercing his royal person, through which the Volsung darts; and then, as she slips round Close by is 'Robin Lythe's Hole,' a spacious cavern, named after a famed smuggler, and having a roomy entrance from seawards, with a smaller leading to the right out into a bay round a point. At low water, this cave may be explored on foot from the upper end; but care must be taken not to be caught by the tide, for it fills at high water. Rounding the point, we get a fine view of the 'North Sea Landing,' a little cove bounded on either hand by bluff cliffs, and having a strip of sand and shingle for a beach, and then a steep slope leading up inland to the village. On this incline are drawn up long lines of gaily painted boats, the famed cobles which brave the rough North Sea. The lifeboat house stands half-way up the cliff, doors open, showing the Gertrude on its 'skids' within; and under the lee of it, basking in the warm sunshine, are three or four old men, clad in reddish canvas trousers, blue guernseys, and battered sou'-westers; whilst not far off, half-a-dozen sturdy women in short blue serge petticoats and linen bonnets are at work on the boats, singing blithely a simple hymn-tune; one and another looking up now and again to cast an eye down to the beach, where a group of barelegged youngsters are playing at the water's edge, Chambers's Journal, Aug. 15, 1885.] ROUND FLAMBOROUGH HEAD. and helping a bronzed fellow to launch a coble, in which he and his boy in the bows are going to take a party to see the caves. These are fisherfolk of Flamborough-or 'Little Denmark,' as it has been named-members of a community exclusive yet in all its ways; they are still a colony to themselves, direct descendants of the old vikings who landed here when 'Ida the Flameman' came to conquer wild Northumbria long centuries ago. They speak of all outsiders as foreigners' to this day, and marry religiously amongst themselves. Tyburnia and Mayfair are not more exclusive than Flamborough town! There are no more daring or skilful boatmen to be found anywhere than real Flamborough men-big muscular fellows, with clear blue eyes and fair golden hair and beards. Sons following their fathers unquestioningly, take to the sea and the hard calling of a fisherman's life; whilst the daughters learn from their mothers to knit the warin blue guernseys, and gather and prepare the shellfish for bait. The hazel-eyed girl listens to the fisher-lad's bluff wooing; and when he has part share in the coble he helps to man, marries him, and shares his lot, paints his boat, mends his nets, and bravely helps him all she can. Many a night she will lie awake to listen to the hoarse howling gale sweeping up from the sea, and pray for a precious boat tossing far out upon the angry waters; and hasten down in early morning to meet the flowing tide, anxious to hear that 'blessedest, best sound, the boats' keels grating on the sand.' Like enough, there is a sad dark day in store for her, when the gallant coble comes in no more, and nought is known, until some wreckage floats ashore, or a dead man lies on the wan wet sands. There is an old woman, worn and bent now by many a hardship, who will tell a tale as sad as ever told-How one night, years ago, a tempest swept the seas and burst upon the far-off fishing fleet; and in the cold gray dawn, women paced the beach searching with terribly eager eyes amongst the breakers. Ah, sir, it was a dowly day for me and mony ither. I got my poor bairn and his father up fra the rocks yan after ither and took 'em right hame ath'ort our donkey's back, the salt water dripping sairly all th' way. My man's face had an all unrestful look; belike he'd thowt o' me, and how I'd greet; but Ned's war all a smile. Ay, Lord! 'twas trouble then.' They never speak of the lost husband or sweetheart here as drowned, but use an expression pathetically quaint and simple, and say, 'The sea gat him.' Yet, though loss and sorrow too often are their lot, the Flamborough men are a cheerful, manly race, who do their work fearlessly without foreboding, ready alike to work their nets and lines, help put a crew aboard some disabled vessel, or man the lifeboat. Crossing the bay, and standing well out to weather a reef of rocks which runs like a submerged pier from the northernmost point, we steer for a narrow lofty cleft in the chalk, where the tide rises and falls some two feet each time the swell rolls in. Watching a favourable chance, the pilot makes a dash between the lifts of the sea, and the canoe 515 glides into the cool twilight of the Kirk Hole.' There is a wonderful echo here; and as our cabin-boy breaks into the chorus, 'Oh, we're three jolly, jolly sailor-boys,' the chords fluttering aloft are caught and flung back by the listening crannies in softer strains, until they die away in the distant hollows of the rocky dome overhead. The water swishing amongst the pebbles at the far end of the cave sounds like a song of coy maidens hiding in the purple seaweed; and as we follow the winding waterway out through another entrance, fancy can almost catch glimpses of laughing eyes peeping round the jagged points and edges, until a burst of sunlight streaming onward from Thornwick Bay' drives the enchanting visions of beauteous sea-nymphs back into the dim gloom behind. A peep into the 'Smuggler's Cave,' whose deep sandy beach was of old often scored by the keels of swift boats as they ran their cargoes of contraband goods here from some saucy lugger in the offing, and whose long dry passage inland was a favourite 'hide' for 'dooty-free swag-and we head northward again, skirting the bay with its golden patch of sand until we round a jagged spur of rock into 'Little Thornwick Bay.' A lonely awesome cove is this, with more gloomy caverns, and a wild chasm called the Devil's Washpot,' up which angry seas dash in fury, and then foam madly out through a well-like opening on to the cliff above, in seething spray. From here the ruggedness of the coast is lost, and 'Speeton Cliffs' show a smooth front of whiteness, which gradually grows darker in colour, until rich brown clay reaches in a great curve to Filey, and its famed Brig showing a line of black upon the water. Away beyond, half lost in purple haze, the old castle of Scarborough looks out from its bold headland over seas, and then the sky and occan meet in a bond of sober gray. But the afternoon is wearing on, and the weather is looking dirty to windward, and we ought to be laying a homeward course, or shall lose the best of the tide, which is setting strongly down the coast. Already, raindrops are beginning to plash into the water and hum upon the decks, so don sou'-wester and oilskin, and look alive, pilot! "Bout ship.' A dreary drizzle is wrapping the land and blurring the gliding panorama of cliff and caves as we paddle southward, on past the North Landing and the mist-shrouded 'King and Queen. The wind is freshening fast, whitehorses' are showing upon the heaving seas ahead, and the little boat plunges heavier into each following surge, shipping every now and again an awkward comber into the well. 'Look out, helmsman; starboard, hard!' The paddle dips sharply twice, and she swings round just in time to meet a huge seething roller stem on; the next instant, her bows are buried deep under the hissing water, and then, with a gallant stagger, she shakes herself free, and flinging the glistening spray from off her arched deck, glides down into a hollow of the waves. It is too rough now to keep our course parallel to the coast, and we must stand out to sea and meet the wind-waves; for, to let her get broadside on, the end would be speedy. So the Volsung |