NOWLEDGE IT IS NOT GOO Magazine. DRYBURGH ABBEY, RUINS OF DRYBURGH ABBEY. THIS noble relic of the olden time stands in a district rife with historical mementos and classic associations; but celebrated as is the spot, it derives its highest-although a melancholy-interest, from its being the last earthly resting-place of the illustrious SIR WALTER SCOTT. Dryburgh is situated in Berwickshire, about four miles from Melrose, in the most delightful and picturesque part of a sylvan vale. It rises on the north bank of the Tweed, which here makes a bold sweep, and is backed by hills covered with hanging woods of the most luxuriant foliage. When viewed from the opposite bank of the river, the "dark Abbaie," standing amidst the gloom of wood, on a verdant level, above the high banks of earth which confine the course of the rapid stream, sweeping around it, is seen to great advantage; and, whether we contemplate the time-worn ruin, the harmony of nature, or the remembrance of "the years that are past," the landscape is one of singular interest and beauty. It has been conjectured, that the name of Dryburgh is derived from the Celtic, Darach-Bruache, "the bank of the sacred grove of oaks, or the settlement of the Druids;" some vestiges of Pagan worship, (among which was an instrument used for slaughtering the sacrificial victims,) have been found on the Bass-Hill, an eminence in its vicinity, and seem to VOL. X. strengthen this conjecture. In the early part of the sixth century, a monastery is said to have been founded here by St. Modan, one of the first preachers of Christianity in Scotland. St. Modan was abbot in 522, but it is supposed, that after his death the com munity was transferred to Melrose *, since no subsequent mention is made of the Abbey till about the year 1150, when the present structure was founded by Hugh de Morville, Constable of Scotland, and Lord of Lauderdale, the district in which it is situated. According to the "Chronicle of Melros," Beatrix de Beauchamp, wife of the above, obtained a charter of confirmation from David the First, who assumes in the deed the designation of founder, and to this charter Hugh de Morville is a witness; but it sufficiently appears that this Abbey, on its new foundation, owed its establishment to these illustrious subjects, and was afterwards taken under the protection of King David, who was a most munificent patron of the Scottish monastic edifices. The cemetery was consecrated on St. Martin's day, 1150, but the community did not come to reside here until the 13th of December, 1152. The monks were of the Premon stratensian order, and were brought from Aluwick, In 1322, the Abbey was subject to a heavy calamity, a considerable portion being burnt and destroyed by the soldiers under Edward the Second, in revenge for certain insults offered them by the monks, who imprudently rang the church bells on their departure. King Robert Bruce contributed largely to its restoration, but it is doubtful whether it was afterwards rebuilt either in its original style or magnificence. In 1545, Dryburgh Abbey was again plundered and burnt by the English, under the Earl of Hertford. At the dissolution in 1587, (at which period the lands and revenues were annexed to the Crown), it was erected into a temporal lordship and peerage, by James the Fourth of Scotland, who granted the Abbey and its demesnes to Henry Erskine, created Lord Cardross, the second son of John, Earl of Mar, Lord High Treasurer of Scotland, and Mary, daughter of Esme Stewart, Duke of Lennox, the direct ancestor of David Stewart Erskine, Earl of Buchan, elder brother of Thomas Lord Erskine, Lord Chancellor, and uncle to the present proprietor, Sir David Erskine. pension-bridge over the Tweed, at a short distance from the Abbey, two hundred and sixty feet long, of a light and elegant appearance. His lordship, also, erected on the summit of a neighbouring hill, a colossal statue of the hero Wallace, which was placed on its pedestal on the 22nd of September, 1814, the anniversary of the victory at Stirling Bridge, in 1297, and occupies so lofty a situation, that it is visible even from Berwick, a distance of more than thirty miles. The statue is seventy feet high, and formed of red sandstone, painted white. The late Earl of Buchan, a nobleman of eccentric habits, felt a peculiar interest in the ruins of Dryburgh. He fitted up one of the dilapidated apartments of the Abbey, in a style corresponding to the original, which he called his sanctissimum, and to which he frequently resorted. In 1819, we are told by Allan Cunningham, that this nobleman waited upon Lady Scott, when Sir Walter was afflicted with a dangerous illness, "to intercede with her husband to do him the honour of being buried in Dryburgh." "The place," said the Earl, " is very beautiful,-just such a place as the Poet loves;" his lordship, however, became a tenant of the ancient cemetery before the lamented poet. The last resting-place of Sir Walter Scott is a small spot of ground in an area formed by four pillars, in one of the ruined aisles, which belonged to his family. His uncle, Robert Scott, and his lady, are, however, the only members of the family who lie interred there. From the limited dimensions of the place, the body of the author of Waverly, has been placed in a direction north and south, instead of the usual fashion; and thus, in death at least, he has resembled the Cameronians, of whose character he was supposed to have given such an unfavourable picture in one of his tales. Peace be to his ashes! In beholding the ruins in their present state, the usurpation of nature over the works of man is everywhere apparent. The structure is, indeed, completely overgrown with foliage; evergreens may be seen flourishing amidst the solemn desolation of a roofless apartment; in others, the walls are clothed with ivy to their summits; and on the top of some of the arches, trees of considerable growth have sprung up, which add to the adornment of the venerable edifice. The age of these trees is a certain proof of the antiquity of its destruction. The original design of the Abbey was cruciform, divided in the breadth into three parts, by two colonnaded arcades; the transepts and choir have all been short; a part of the north transept which is still standing, is called St. Mary's In the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, there is a aisle, and is a beautiful specimen of early English singular narrative of an unfortunate female, who Gothic architecture. The fine Norman arch, origi- inhabited a vault amidst the ruins of the Abbey, nally the western doorway, shown in our view, is between eighty and ninety years ago, She was enriched with ornaments in general use at the period popularly called the Nun of Dryburgh, and from an the Abbey is said to have been founded; the sculp-account she gave of a spirit who used to arrange her ture is chaste, and unaffected by time, and it may, perhaps, be considered the most striking feature of the remains. The monastery is in a state of utter ruin and decay; and nothing is entire but the chapter-house, St. Modan's chapel, and the adjoining passages. The chapter-house is forty-seven feet long, twenty-three broad, and twenty in height; at the east end there are five early English pointed windows; the western extremity contains a circularheaded centre window, with a smaller one on either side. The hall is adorned with a row of intersected arches. Mr. George Smith, architect, states in his valuable and interesting description of the Abbey:From a minute inspection of the ruins, we are led to believe that there are portions of the work of a much earlier date. The arch was the distinctive feature of all structures of the middle ages; and among these ruins we observed no fewer than four distinct styles of arches; namely, the massive Roman arch with its square sides; the imposing deep splayed Saxon; the pillared and intersected Norman; and last, the early English pointed arch. These differ not only in design, but in the quality of the materials, and in the execution. The chapter-house and abbot's parlour, with the contiguous domestic dwellings of the monks, we consider of much greater antiquity than the church. The stone of which the structure is built, is a "hard pinkish-coloured" sandstone, which is in a good state of preservation. A fine tree that still flourishes in the vicinity of the ruins, is supposed to have been planted seven hundred years ago. The late Earl of Buchan constructed a wire sus habitation at night, whilst she wandered forth to solicit the charity of the neighbouring gentry, it was believed that the vault was haunted; and to this day it is regarded with superstitious dread by the peasantry. During the day-time she immured herself in the vault, but could never be prevailed upon to assign a reason why she adopted so remarkable a course of life. Sir Walter Scott, however, who relates the anecdote, says,— It is believed that it was occasioned by a vow, that during the absence of a man to whom she was attached, she would never look upon the sun. Her lover never returned. He fell during the civil war of 1745-6, and she never more beheld the light of day. In concluding our account of Dryburgh, we should not omit to enumerate some of the "ancient ruins,” and storied sites, in the immediate vicinity of this enchanting spot. The stately Melrose, whose "broken arches," and " foliaged tracery," have been so exquisitely portrayed by the Poet's magic pencil, the magnificent ruins of Jedburgh and Kelso,-Smailholm Castle, the scene of Sir Walter's childhood, Abbotsford, where he closed his illustrious career,the Vale of Glendearg, with its scenes of " faery," and the Eildon Hills, from whose three-forked summits, we are told by Scott, that "you may see the scenes of forty-two songs, and ballads, and battles, all of old renown,"-are within the compass of a few days' excursion, and all derive their highest interest from their association with the author of Waverley.. GAMBLING IN FRANCE. I HAD the curiosity to look into a gambling-house in the Palais Royal, Paris, in order to enable me to describe the scenes going on; and all of these "hells," it should be observed, are under the protection of the Government. No ceremony was necessary, save that of undergoing the scrutinizing glances of the professional gentlemen, who were exercising their calling, seated round a table, whirling a ball in a kind of hollow dish, and cutting cards. They evidently expected that I would offer to join them; but knowing the excellent proverb in their own language, which says," Ce n'est que le premier pas que coute," I took no notice of their significant looks, but continued a spectator of the scene, without the slightest intention or desire to take part in it. Every stranger who was not content, like myself, to be a mere lookeron; but who, instigated by the sight of their tempting gold, seated himself at the table, was sure, I particularly remarked, to be for a short time a winner. After that, the tide, very unaccountably of course, turns against him. He continues to lose faster than he won, and yet continues to play on in fretful desperation, so long as his cash holds out. At length he finds his plus converted into minus, after which he either decamps completely fleeced for that time, or remains to witness the defeat of others. houses form no small proportion of those numerous wretches who destroy themselves in Paris. If there be a touch still wanting to this deplorable picture of human folly and depravity combined, it is the truly horrible reflection that such persons are sanc tioned and patronized by the Government. More than Vespasian sordidness must be theirs, who basely condescend to derive a profit from them, by legalizing the wholesale iniquity and vice. Some will be disposed to think, that, unless it were in the power of the Government to put down gambling altogether, which is of course impossible, it may as well turn to its own advantage the evil it cannot suppress. Miserable, detestable policy! If laws cannot entirely remove the evil, they may do much towards checking it, at least they ought to attempt it. A government cannot prevent a plague or epidemic, yet there is no reason wherefore it should import infection, or aid the progress of contagion, Were there not one gambling-house, or one victim to gambling, the less, on that account, still a government should reject with scorn, even the idea of being accessary, however remotely, to such villany. Connected with gambling is Suicide; and most awful is the catalogue of those who, in the course of each year, destroy themselves, as the sole remedy for that misery in which they have involved themselves, thereby literally exemplifying the text, "The wages of sin is death." Utterly devoid of every kind of religious feeling, unchecked by the slightest moral restraint, detesting the world that renounces them, and utterly abhorring themselves, already feeling all the pangs of hell itself in their bosoms, what wonder is it, I would ask, if, in their desperation, they give themselves up to utter perdition, defy that great Almighty Being who made them, and, rushing headlong on their final destruction, take the fatal leap in the dark?" Truly may these most unhappy men be said to " Curse God and die!” [From WILLIAM RAE WILSON'S Route through France.] Most unquestionably it is most iniquitous in any government to countenance such a vile and unprincipled traffic, alas! the source of so much real private misery and wretchedness, and of such widely-spreading demoralisation; yet one feels quite as much contempt as pity for the besotted dupes of such barefaced villainy. After all that has been said on the subject, and those exposures made in regard to the system itself, every man of common sense must surely have his eyes open to the consequences; no one, therefore, who is not an unprincipled knave, or a consummate fool, would sit down to a gamblingtable. Aye, but say they who apologize for vice, the pursuit is so alluring and fascinating, that the victim is entrapped before he is aware of it. Now this is only an additional reason for eschewing it altogether, with the determination of not suffering even a little curiosity to induce us to make a single experiment. The man who considers whether he shall try his luck at the gambling-table, is lost inevitably. If not ruined in purse, why they become sharpers by profession, monsters hardened in iniquity, bankrupts in character, abandoned in principle, the most corrupt of the corrupt, of the abject the most abject; in fact, it requires the heart of a demon to witness the horrible scenes that occur in these dens or sinks of vice. I shall never forget one mean-attired wretch, who, like others, was at first successful, but, afterwards, losing his gains, became so exasperated, that he threw down Double Napoleons to a great amount; these just shared the fate of the rest, on which was seized with a perfect agony of despair; he stamped his feet, tore his hair, clenched his hands, groaned, and the horrors he thus acted were rendered more thrilling by the fiend-like imperturbability of the human monsters who had plundered him. Their countenances exhibited not the slightest emotion; it was their vocation, and, to do them justice, they appeared most perfectly fitted for it. After witnessing such a display, no one, I think, who was not actually a candidate for Bedlam, would suffer himself to take the chance of being reduced to a similar condition. In such cases, remonstrances are absolutely worse than vain, nor does the victim attempt it; the only intelligible remark he suffers to escape him is," Demain la Morgue;" indeed, the frequenters of gambling-gaged. REFLECTIONS ON QUITTING A CONVENT. As I mounted my horse to quit the convent, the last beams of the sun were setting, and the forest-trees cast their lengthened shadows along the ground. A cross, the em blem of peace, was placed on a pedestal before the door. The beauty and seclusion of the spot appeared to have marked it out as peculiarly fitted for the enjoyment of tranquil happiness; but the misjudging piety of man had robbed him of those temperate pleasures which nature had so lavishly prepared for his gratification. The oak and fern reminded me of the deep glades of England, and the majestic cypress of Portugal, with its waving branches, impressed the scene with a character of Oriental grace: yet, even on such a calm and heavenly evening, the monks were not allowed to walk beneath the shade of their foresttrees so active and ingenious were the founders of this convent in devising methods to heighten the privations of its inmates, as if the common course of human passions and anxieties did not render the cup which all must drink sufficiently bitter, without perverting the plainest dictates of common sense to render it still more unpalatable. [Portugal and Gallicia, by an English Nobleman.] YOUTH beholds happiness gleaming in the prospect. Age looks back on the happiness of youth; and, instead of hopes, seeks its enjoyment in the recollections of hopes. COLERIDGE THERE is an active principle in the human soul, that will ever be exerting its faculties to the utmost stretch, in whatever employment, by the accidents of time and place, the general plan of education, or the customs and manners of the age and country, it may happen to find itself enBLACKSTONE. OXALIC ACID. THE name of this acid is derived from a plant, in scientific language called Oxalis acetosella. Its common name is wood-sorrel. From the juice of this plant oxalic acid may be obtained in considerable quantities, as it may also from that of the Rumex acetosa, or common sorrel, and the several varieties of rhubarb. Oxalic acid was discovered about sixty years ago by SCHEELE, a celebrated Prussian chemist. There is reason to believe that it exists in a much greater number of plants than is generally suspected. It having been remarked that the shoes of persons who had been walking in a field of chick-peas* were curiously corroded, it occurred to a French chemist that this effect must have been produced by some property possessed by the plant. On cutting off some of the fine hairs of the chick-pea, they were found to yield an acid liquor, which, on further examination, proved to be an aqueous solution of pure oxalic acid. It rarely happens, however, that the acid is found pure. In the plants we have mentioned, as furnishing it in the greatest abundance, it almost always occurs in combination either with potash or lime. Compounds formed of oxalic acid and other substances are denominated oxalates. Hence the union of the acid with potash constitutes oxalate of potash, with lime, oxalate of lime, and so on with many others. It has lately been ascertained that several kinds of lichent, a species of plants which are generally, although improperly, called mosses, contain nearly half their weight of oxalate of lime. These plants, These plants, we are informed, thrive in barren places, and even on rocks, where no other vegetable could exist for a single day; their peculiar constitution admirably adapting them for preparing the way for a higher order of vegetable life. By this simple fact we are forcibly reminded that all the operations of Divine Providence are the result of design; exhibiting, in their minutest particulars, special thought and foresight. To an unreflecting observer, the humble lichen just mentioned may appear so insignificant, as scarcely to deserve the name of a plant. Let him not thence infer a waste, or a misapplication, of creative power. The Most High has formed nothing in vain. In the economy of nature an important office has been assigned to the lichen, and for its due performance it is endowed with functions no less remarkable than those of the most fragrant flower, the most beautiful shrub, or the most stately tree. In common with other vegetable productions, the lichen possesses, what may with propriety be termed, a power of selecting those particles of matter which are best fitted for its growth and maturity. Man, with all his justly-valued stores of knowledge, would labour in vain, were he to attempt to make oxalate of lime out of the materials the lichen has to work with. That little plant "toils not, neither does it spin," but it manifests capabilities for appropriating from the rock, or other surface to which it adheres, from the moisture with which it is occasionally refreshed, and from the atmosphere with which it is surrounded, just what is necessary for its nourishment, whilst that of an opposite tendency is uniformly rejected. At length it falls into At length it falls into decay, and in its place springs up a distinct order of The chick-pea is a native of Spain. It is smaller than the common pea. + Lichens appear in the form of thin flat crusts, covering rocks and the bark of trees, or in foliaceous expansions, or branched like a shrub in miniature. Some of them resemble elly, whilst others consist only of a powdery substance. we plants. These owe their existence, on the particular spot they occupy, to the ruins deposited there by their predecessors. Hence we learn, that whilst often overlook what is petty, nothing, however small, is deemed worthless, or is disregarded by Him whom no name or language can sufficiently describe, whose power is omnipotence, whose presence is universal, whose knowledge is omniscience, whose creations extend and constitute space, and whose existence is eternity." Oxalic acid is easily made by dissolving lump-sugar in aqua-fortis (nitric acid), a circumstance which has caused it to be sometimes called acid of sugar. By the action of nitric acid, many other substances besides sugar are converted into oxalic acid. Of these we may here mention starch, gum, most of the vegetable acids, several varieties of fruit, wool, hair, silk, and the whites of eggs. To chemists, the composition of oxalic acid is a subject of great interest, and has engaged a very large share of their attention. We fear it would not be so to our general readers, for whose sake we purposely abstain from employing a greater number of chemical, and other scientific terms, than are really necessary. Those who have read an account of oil of vitriol (sulphuric acid) ‡, will probably remember that oxygen is there mentioned as imparting to sulphur its acid properties. In the instance before us we are equally indebted to its agency. Oxygen is the acidifying principle in oxalic acid, which contains it combined in in certain proportions with carbon (the chemical name for charcoal). The acid crystallizes in slender four and six-sided prisms, which, when quite pure, are perfectly white and very brilliant. At a temperature of 50°, pure oxalic acid requires about fifteen times its own weight of water to dissolve it; at 57°, nine times its weight is sufficient; the solubility rapidly increasing with the increase of temperature. As the oxalic acid of commerce frequently contains minute quantities of nitric acid, the presence of the latter so greatly facilitates the solvent properties of water, that at 60° it often happens that oxalic acid may be dissolved in twice or three times its weight of that fluid. Oxalic acid, as may be justly inferred from its name, is sour. Its acid properties are so intense, that if one grain be dissolved in 3600 grains of water, there will be sufficient acidity to be perceptible to the taste; and Professor Brande informs us, that in 200,000 (two hundred thousand) times its weight of water, the acid may be detected by means of a very simple test. The uses of oxalic acid are not very numerous. In the arts, it is chiefly employed by calico-printers, and by straw and Leghorn bonnet-makers. In domestic economy, it is used for cleaning boot-tops. This circumstance, viewed in connexion with the carelessness with which medicines are sometimes vended and taken, and the resemblance which the crystals of the acid bear externally to those of Epsom salt (sulphate of magnesia), has occasioned many fatal instances of poisoning. It is gratifying, how. ever, to observe that these accidents occur less frequently than formerly. Nothing can be easier than to detect an error of the kind to which we have alluded,--by simply tasting the crystals, or, if they have been dissolved, the be oxalic acid, no mischief can possibly ensue; and solution. By doing this, even should it happen to as that is intensely sour, it cannot for a moment be mistaken for Epsom salt, the flavour of which, See Saturday Magazine, Vol. X., p. 139. ادار although not positively salt or bitter, yet partakes in an eminent degree of both. Moreover, if the crystals of the two substances be closely examined, it will be found that they are not exactly alike, and the exercise even of ordinary caution, first, by observing, and next by tasting, will enable most persons to distinguish the one from the other. Several acids which are termed poisons, destroy life, when taken into the stomach, solely by their violent action upon the parts with which they come in contact. It seems, however, that oxalic acid is literally a very active poison; instances having occurred in which it has proved fatal when diluted with large quantities of water, and used as an acidulated drink. A quarter of an ounce of the crystals, it is believed, is sufficient to produce death. It is imperative on those who have occasion for this dangerous material, not only to put it in a place of security, but they ought never to keep it with medicines of any kind. In addition to this, let us impress on them that no circumstances can ever justify them in permitting it to be purchased by children. When, by accident or design, oxalic acid has been taken or administered, the symptoms of which are great pain, with a burning sensation at the stomach, accompanied by violent retchings, prompt measures are demanded. There may not always be a choice of antidotes at hand, but we will enumerate several, any one of which, if judiciously and instantly applied, might be the means of preserving life. Chalk, whiting, or magnesia, mixed either with warm or cold water, are the best antidotes with which we are acquainted. In the absence of all these, which is not very likely, soda, lime, or even soap and water, may be substituted. The object must be, not only to dislodge the poison from the stomach, but to arrest its influence on the system generally, and this will be effected by the means we have indicated, as oxalic acid forms with lime, magnesia, and soda, salts which are not poisonous. In such a case, however, it is scarcely necessary to remark that no time should be lost in procuring medical assistance. WOODY FIBRE, AS AN ARTICLE OF food. R. R. A MOST important article of vegetable food, however unpromising it may at first sight appear, is LIGNIN, or WOODY FIBRE. It is true, that wood, or sawdust, does not sound palatable; but when we consider it, spun, as it were, into those delicate tissues of cells and tubes which form the receptacles of the pulp and juices of our most delicious fruits, sometimes yielding an agreeable and crisp resistance, as in the apple; and at others, melting down in a more attenuated form, as in the beurré pear and the peach; or as forming the more substantial skeleton, as it were, of our eatable vegetables, as in the lettuce, cabbage, French bean, and others; we at once see its claims to a place among esculent, and even nutritive principles. The accumulation of the elements of which woody fibre is composed, by the organic powers of the vegetable world, is something very surprising: the dry timber of an average-sized oak weighs, for instance, about sixty tons; its durability, and its density in some kinds of timber, is also wonderful; so are its uses and applications in the varied forms into which it is elaborated by the hand of Nature; as in hemp, flax, cotton, &c., and the different fabrics into which it is manufactured, such as canvass, linen, calico, paper, and so forth; giving us cables, ropes, thread, &c. To the chemist all these things appear still more remarkable, when he finds that the woody fibre, or ligneous part of vegetables, is analogous in compostion to the neutral products, starch, gum, and sugar; and that they are in fact mutually convertible; for woody fibre is a hydrate of carbon, regarded in reference to its atomic constitution; so that, assuming, as just stated, that the woody fibre of a moderate-sized oak weighs sixty tons, we have here a consolidation of thirty tons of charcoal or carbon, and thirty tons of water. When woody fibre comes before us as an article of diet, it has other curious and important bearings. If any form of lignin, such as saw-dust (cleansed from all foreign bodies, such as resin, extractive matter, &c.), rags, or paper, be rubbed up with a little sulphuric acid, taking care that the action of the acid does not go to the extent of charring, and if the acid be afterwards abstracted by adding to the mixture an alkali, or some powdered chalk, it will be found that the wood has been changed into a species of gum: if we now boil this gum for some hours in acidulated water, (imitating the process for the conversion of starch into sugar,) it gradually becomes converted into sugar: hay, straw, leaves, shavings, in short, any form of ligneous fibre, may be similarly converted; and although we do this but clumsily and inconveniently in our laboratories, being, as we are, but Nature's journeymen, Nature herself carries on these transmutations with the most wonderful results, as we see in the ripening of fruits, where the hard woody texture gradually softens down into sweet and luscious pulp, as in the ripening of the pear, the grape, the strawberry, and, in short, almost all fruits. Lastly, let us look at the effect of heat on wood. If we burn wood in the open air, it undergoes apparent, but far from real, destruction, as we have already remarked: burned with imperfect access of air, its most volatile and combustible parts go off, and its charcoal, or at least a considerable part of it, remains : if distilled, instead of burned, tar, oil, water, and vinegar, are produced; but if pure woody fibre, such as beech saw-dust, from which all soluble matters have been carefully washed out, be reduced to a very fine powder, and then cautiously roasted or baked, it acquires characters not unlike those of corn-flour, and when duly mixed with yeast, or leaven, it ferments, and makes an uniform spongy bread, much more palatable than that usually eaten by the peasantry of many parts of Europe, and infinitely preferable to that which is made in times of scarcity from bran and the husks of corn. Such is a short outline of the history of the WoODY FIBRE, considered merely in reference to its chemical properties; and should a subject be at any time required for an essay on the power, wisdom, and goodness of God in the works of the creation, a more prolific or apposite one could scarcely be selected. [Abridged from the Magazine of Popular Science.] As the harmony and solidity of a building can only be secured by a strict attention to every part of the structure, which can then, and then only, be considered as complete, when nothing can be withdrawn or altered, without a striking injury to the whole; so also in education, if any part whatever be either omitted or displaced, there will always be some defect or obliquity remaining which injures the whole effect.-BISHOP OTTER, |