read, converse together, or take refreshments, as in the state cabin of a steamer, and as I understand it to be the case on some of the long railroads in the United States, where people value their time too much, and are too busy, to afford to go to sleep, or be idle for so many hours even in a railway carriage.

The line of vehicles along the departure parade is terminated by the luggage van, and the truck for private carriages. At twenty minutes before nine, P.M., this long procession started. In one hour and twenty minutes it had reached Tring; at a quarter before one, Coventry lamps hove in sight; and with a continuous movement, vibrating at times, and a noise generally drumming, but occasionally clashing, we reached Birmingham as the illuminated clock, under a much more stupendous colonnade than that of the terminal station in London, marked twenty-five minutes to two, A.M. *

One hundred and eleven miles of ground had thus been passed over in five hours (no prodigy for a railroad to be sure), before one could get fatigued. I am thus minute and particular, on behalf of such of my readers as are invalids, or of a trepidating nature, who will not be sorry to peruse what may appear trite, worthless, and commonplace to others.

If the starting from Euston station be striking in effect, the arrival at the Birmingham station is no less so. The sudden entering under the cover of a vast area, brilliantly lighted up like a fairy region, with the whole train, which pushes its course home to the very furthest verge of the platform, facing a grand building destined to give asylum and refreshment to the hundreds of passengers who arrive by the Liverpool train-is accompanied by sensations not experienced under any other circumstance. Neither are these sensations rendered tamer by the next spectacle, that, in the vast tea-room, offers itself during the halting time of threequarters of an hour's duration, allowed to such as have to proceed to Liverpool or Manchester; although the room in question is not so elegant and ostentatious as the great morning or refreshment saloon just alluded to, designed and erected by the same eminent architect to whose imagination the Doric arch of Eustonplace owes its origin.

The strange effect of suddenly behold

* The mail train now arrives at Birmingham ten minutes before one. Some other alterations have been made since this description was written.

ing, upon emerging from the slumbering and dark monotony of a night journey, three hundred people of both sexes, arranged, as if by magic, and in an instant, within a spacious and well-lighted room, around several cross lines of parallel tables, who, but five minutes before, were variously distributed and apart from each other in thirty different carriages-is in itself amusing. But its entertaining character is considerably enhanced, if we follow these people in their operations, attacking and demolishing tea, coffee, chickens, tough ham, and stale bread; beef, pork, and stuffed pies--and all in ten minutes, and for two shillings.

A VISIT TO THE NAPOLEON MUSEUM,

I LOVE to come in contact with relics of departed greatness or goodness. They seem, as it were, to connect past ages with the present time, and to give to the mind a tangible pledge of the existence of those celebrated men whom we have hitherto known only as the imaginary and immaterial occupants of books. What a thrill it gives me to look at the rude scratches of some of our sainted martyrs on the walls of the tower! What a sermon it is to see the words, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life," carved upon the solid granite by one who, centuries ago, proved his faithfulness at the stake or on the scaffold!

I still remember the pleasure which L felt in inspecting the library of Melancthon when it was brought over to London, about ten years ago, for the purpose of being sold. It had been preserved nearly in its state of primitive integrity since the death of that reformer; and I could almost imagine, as I turned over its antique oak or iron-bound tomes, that Melancthon's mild figure was about to enter the apartment, and draw out from the volumes before me some fresh elucidations of that Divine truth of which he had been made one of the revivers to the world. A museum of the relics of Napoleon was therefore an object well calculated to gratify the contemplative tastes of one who, like myself, loves to get into a corner away from the crowd, and meditate on the strange and chequered web of life that is continually being spun out before me. Relics of Napoleon!-what a strange sound! But a few years ago, and his name was filling the earth with fear and dread. Kings were raised or dethroned

by him, like puppets on a stage: and now where is all his power? It has passed away like a dream. The principal actors in those scenes have flitted away to their final account, leaving the lesson thrilling on the mind, that all flesh is indeed grass, and that verily it shall profit a man nothing should he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul.

The Napoleon Museum was exhibited, till within the last few weeks, in one of the rooms of the Egyptian Hall. It has been the result of the collection, by a private individual, during a period of five and twenty years, of objects of interest connected with the domestic and public life of that remarkable man. Portraits of Napoleon, his generals, the attendants of his court, are to be found in it in abundance; medals illustrative of the principal events of his career are also accumulated in it; with bronzes, autographs, and miscellaneous relics, all of more or less interest. The first thing which struck me, on entering the apartment, was a beautiful series of miniature portraits of the emperor, commencing with his likeness as the young officer of artillery, and terminating with a picture of him clothed in the imperial purple, for which his ambitious spirit so keenly panted. The first of the series is remarkably interesting. It represents him as wearing the republican uniform. His countenance is beautifully classical, and his eyes full of expression. Ambition had not then lighted them up with its baneful fires, as it soon afterwards did. His portrait as first consul follows next. His air in it seems more determined, as if he were in contemplation of that prize of empire which he so shortly afterwards seized. In the next picture of the group he is seen clothed in his coronation robes, his countenance flushed with the intoxication of triumph at having at last attained that airy pinnacle of power from which he was so rapidly to be precipitated. In the collection there is another full length portrait of him in the same dress, and in the act of putting the imperial crown on his own head. It was painted by the celebrated David " of the blood-stained brush," as he has been well called from his share in the atrocities of the first French revolution. If a proof were wanted of the inefficiency of mere secular accomplishments and genius to soften the heart, it would be found in the history of this artist, who, with intellectual powers of a really high order, could yet sit at the Committee of Public Safety with

such men as Robespierre and St. Just, and assist in the cruel slaughter-under the mockery of the name of liberty-of some of the noblest and most excellent of his fellow countrymen. From these associations, I looked with much interest at this picture, particularly as Napoleon himself had sat for it, and had expressed himself much pleased with it. In another part of the room is a small picture of the emperor as he appeared at St. Helena after death. His countenance is, of course, unearthly pale; and his lips are blue and livid. The martial cloak which he wore at the battle of Marengo is thrown across his cold remains. Ten thousand persons, I was informed, visited in Edinburgh this picture when it was exhibited, without any other accompaniment. Although fine as a work of art, it is interesting principally from its subject. As I gazed upon it, I could not help thinking of the war of the elements that was raging at St. Helena on the night of Napoleon's decease, and on his last-muttered words, "Tête d'armée," showing “the ruling passion strong in death." Here, I thought, was the end of all his wondrous career. He that conquered so many kings, lay at length, in this picture, himself conquered by the king of terrors!a sharer in that common lot of man, to a premature arrival at which his insane ambition had wantonly hurried so many millions of his fellow creatures. How little peace could all his glory, I reflected, have brought to his dying pillow; and how unspeakably more to be envied, at such a season, is the condition of the meanest, most lowly believer in Christ Jesus! I felt, in gazing at this picture, the full force and marvellous applicability of the prophet's words: "They that see thee shall narrowly look upon thee, and consider thee, saying, Is this the man that made the earth to tremble, that did shake kingdoms; that made the world as a wilderness, and destroyed the cities thereof; that opened not the house of his prisoners?" Isa. xiv. 16, 17.

Adjoining this picture of Napoleon's remains, is another profanely representing his apotheosis, or his preparing to take his seat among the gods, like the other celebrated heroes of heathen antiquity. This picture is said to have cost 3,000 guineas; if so, it must have been a sad and unnecessary expenditure of money upon a worthless subject. The picture itself is, no doubt, exquisitely beautiful. The colouring is amazingly soft and deli

Thus hampered by our icy prison, we only emerged occasionally so as to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond, and to estimate our slow and devious progress. At length, by great skill on the part of Couttet, and patience on the part of all of us (for we remained inseparably tied together all this time), by clambering down one side of a chasm, up another, and round a third, hewing our steps,* and holding on one by one with the rope, we gradually extricated ourselves from a chaos which at first sight appeared absolutely impenetrable, and that without any very dangerous positions."

At length, after several toilsome hours, they saw a comparatively easier field before them; and the old familiar features of the Mer de Glace, with the Jardin in the distance, the branching icy beds of the Tacul, the Charmoz, and the Moine became apparent. They halted about one o'clock; for we had now reached water, always a joyful sight to those who have been long wandering over the fields of snow. We drank of it freely, and the guides added fresh libations of brandy, which caused them to complain of intolerable thirst and heat of the head all the way to the Montanvert, which, by confining myself to cold tea and a very little wine with water, I entirely escaped.

MINES AND MINING. No. I.

THE past history and present condition and extent of mining operations, present to a reflective mind many considerations of no small interest. It is impossible to think of the invaluable utility of coal and iron only-to say nothing of what are usually termed the precious metalswithout being astonished at the inexhaustible magazine which is treasured up underneath the surface of this globe, expressly, as it would seem, for the comfort and advantage of man. And what extraordinary results may be effected by ingenuity and persevering labour in turning these hidden riches to account. But they teach us other lessons likewise. In how many pages of their history, especially in that of the metallic mines, do we read the vanity and uncertainty and unsatisfactory character of all that wealth which is emphatically "of the earth, earthy," which “ some having coveted after," have "fallen into foolish and hurtful lusts," and "pierced themselves through with many sorrows.' Nor can it be denied that there is much to sadden the heart, in the contemplation of the physical and moral degradation to which so many of our fellow-men have been and are still subjected in carrying on these vast operations, and that even in our own comparatively happy country, in large districts of which, it has been calculated that nearly twice as many human beings are employed in the gloomy regions beneath the ground, as in cultivating its surface in the cheerful sunshine and bracing atmosphere above. What can be done to meliorate their condition and to impart to them more fully the glad tidings of the gospel of peace? Surely this is a question well worthy the attention of every Christian philanthropist.

"We all felt," continues the Professor, "an exuberant cheerfulness at being relieved from our embarrassments, and ran cheerfully down the magnificent glacier (du Géant), leaping crevasses, which at another moment we would rather have avoided. Soon on the platform at the confluence with the Glacier de Léchaud, all was plain and direct, and I reached the Montanvert at a quarter before four P.M. Without fatigue, headache, or lassitude. Here I remained, intending to spend some weeks. My guides, having finished their brandy, descended to Chamouni, where their arrival created, I was told, some astonishment, as no one had before crossed the Col du Géant in a single day, and as it was supposed that the fresh snow must at any rate have rendered the attempt impracticable. I slept that night somewhat sounder and longer than usual, but rose next morning with a freshness and elasticity to which the inhabitant of the plains is a stranger."

* A geological hammer, sharpened at one end, is nearly as good an implement for this purpose as a hatchet. For this reason, amongst others, I generally wore it. A person so provided, if he falls uninjured into a crevasse, possesses the most essential means of extrication.

When the attention of men was first directed to these subterranean resources, we do not know; but, from the notices of the use of metals in the sacred records, it is evident that it must have been at a very early period. Silver is spoken of as a medium of commerce in the days of Abraham; and nearly all the more valuable metals are mentioned in the book of Job, who is supposed to have lived in patriarchal times. But even before the flood, copper and iron at least were well known; for Tubal Cain, we are told, "was an instructor of every artificer in brass (copper) and iron." But before these