policies were opened on his recapture, and great must have been the indignation of his high-minded wife when she afterwards heard this trait of city character. The advent of the German emigrants furnished another opportunity. In 1765, upwards of 800 men, women, and children lay in Goodman's Fields in the open air, without food. They had been brought by a speculator from the Palatinate, Franconia, and Suabia, and then deserted by him. In a strange land, without friends, exposed by night and by day to the influences of the atmosphere, death was the necessary result. On the third day, when several expired from hunger or exposure, the callous-hearted assurance speculators were ready, and wagers were actually made as to, how many would die in the week. In the western part of the metropolis considerable feeling was exhibited for these unhappy creatures, and in the country a charitable fervour was excited in their, behalf; but indubitably the greatest interest was felt by those operators in the Alley and underwriters of Lloyd's coffee-house, who had made contracts on their distresses and speculated on their deaths. The benevolent spirit of England, however, soon put this infamous speculation to an end, by providing the unfortunate Germans with food, shelter, and the means of emigration."

it

says Mr. Francis, "immediately saw and seized the advantage. Agents were employed to seek out, in Scotland and elsewhere, robust men of ninety years of age, to select none but those who were free from the hard labour which tells on advanced life, and to forward a list of their names. The Marquis of Hertford added to his vast wealth by choosing as nominees those who were remarkable for high health; on two only taking annuities of 26007. Wherever a person was found at the age of ninety, gently touched by the hand of time, he was sure to be discovered by the agents of the money market, the members of which speculated with, but scarcely perilled, their wealth on the lives of these men on such terms.

"The inhabitants of the rural districts of Scotland, of Westmoreland, and of Cumberland, were surprised by the sudden and extraordinary attention paid to many of their aged members. If they were sick, the surgeon attended them at the cost, of some good genius; and if they were poor, the comforts of life were granted them. In one village the clergyman was empowered to supply the wants of three old hale fishermen during the winter season, to the envy of his sick and ailing parishioners. In another, all the cottagers were rendered jealous by the incessant watchful attention paid to a nonoThese are only specimens of the heartless and genarian by the magnate of the place. It was demoralizing practices which then raged through- whispered by the less favoured that he had been out society, and which might be indefinitely mul- given a home near the great house; that the cook tiplied. They will suffice, however, to give a had orders to supply him with whatever was nice picture of the sordid spirit of the times. This and nourishing; that the laird had been heard to custom of speculating on human life was afterwards say he took a great interest in his life; and that rendered illegal by an act of the legislature, as was he even allowed the doctor twenty-five golden also a fraudulent system of annuities which had guineas a year so long as he kept his ancient speedily usurped its place. Notwithstanding the patient alive. One man was chosen of above numerous ephemeral and spasmodic attempts to ninety, who would walk eight miles any day for promote assurance during all this time, there were, sixpence. There were two baronets offered, illusappears, in 1808, only three offices of any stand-trative of an old story. Both were nonogenarians; ing in existence. Alternate excitements and panics both were sound, wind and limb: the one was rehad either ruined or fatally shaken the host of markable for his extreme temperance, the other for schemes that had sprung up from time to time. drinking two bottles of wine daily; but both were The public having at length come to entertain a first-rate lives. well-founded horror of life annuities granted by private persons, the government determined to become dealers in them, though in doing so they committed an alarming mistake in their calculations, of which the public were not slow to take advantage. Speculators soon found that the government charge for a life annuity afforded a very remunerative investment, and even the insurance offices made considerable profit by purchasing and re-selling them. But the measure of their gains was the extent of the loss to the treasury of the country; and so immense was the waste of the public money alleged to be, that a great outery was justly raised against the continuance of this financial blunder. After much dogged delay, Mr. Finlaison was employed to construct some corrected tables, which were laid before the house in 1829. Able actuaries soon detected a fatal flaw in these new tables, as regards the terms payable by aged persons, which were far too low. This fresh error was pointed out to the authorities, but they refused to rectify it, and the act was passed.

It appears that, according to the tables thus authorized, a man of ninety years of age, by paying 1007., would receive for life an annuity of 627. The shrewd gentlemen of the Stock Exchange,"

"The offices were besieged with contracts on such men as these. Notwithstanding the heavy losses which government had sustained by the previous tables, they lost much more by the present oversight; for against lives chosen with so much care and nursed with so much attention, there was not a chance." It is difficult to say to what extent this fresh speculation would have proceeded, had not Mr. Goulburn availed himself of a clause in the act, to cease granting annuities which might prove unprofitable to government.

We had intended to have alluded to some of the strange and romantic instances of fraud upon in surance offices given in the volume before us, and especially to the impudent career and disastrous end of the "Independent and West Middlesex Fire and Life Insurance Company;" but we find our space already exhausted. We need not here enter upon a consideration of the present progress and prospects of general assurance, as inost of our readers will be more or less conversant with this aspect of the subject. We cannot conclude this historical retrospect, however, without expressing our gratitude that a principle of such great value to the community has been at length rescued from the hands of the Thugs of the commercial world,

and made to minister in so many ways to the welfare of the families of those who are wise enough to avail themselves of its diversified benefits.

PLANETARY OBSERVATIONS IN
THE EAST.

appearance till it shone out in its full splendour. This time I was exceedingly gratified, just as stars of the first and second magnitude were beginning to appear, to see two extremely faint points of light near the planet, which I felt sure were satellites. On pointing my telescope towards them, my first impressions were confirmed, and I almost leaped for joy.

"Since that night, I have many times, at the same hour of the evening, had a similar view of these tele

the fact of their visibility. I must, however, add that none of my associates, who at my request have attended to the subject, are sure that they detect them, though the most sharp-sighted individual feels some confidence that he can do so. As these friends, however, are not practical observers, their failure to see the satellites does not at all shake my belief that I have seen them myself. The time during which these satellites are visible is hardly more than ten minutes. The planet itself soon becomes so bright that they are lost in its rays. I will not stop to discuss the question, in itself a most interesting one, why they are visible at all, when stars of the third and fourth magnitudes are not distinguishable, but merely give the facts in the case, knowing that you will reason on them far better than I can. Both the fixed stars and the planets shine here with a beautifully steady light, and there is litthe twinkling when they are forty degrees above the horizon.

IN a letter recently written by Mr. Stoddart, an Ame-scopic objects, and think I cannot be mistaken as to rican missionary, to Sir Jolin Herschel, bart., from Oroomiah, in Persia, we have some striking facts related in reference to the appearances presented by some of the principal planets of our solar system. "No one," he says, "has ever travelled in this country without being surprised at the distinctness with which distant objects are seen. Mountains fifty, sixty, and even a hundred miles off are projected with great sharpness of outline on the blue sky; and the snowy peak of Ararat, the venerable father of mountains, is just as bright and beautiful when two hundred miles distant as when we stand near its base. This wonderful transparency of the atmosphere frequently deceives the inexperienced traveller; and the clump of trees indicating a village, which seems to rise only two or three miles before him, he will be often as many hours in reaching. In this connexion you will be interested to know that the apparent convergence of the sun's rays, at a point diametrically opposite its disk, which, if I mistake not, Sir David Brewster "Having come to a satisfactory conclusion about the speaks of as a very rare phenomenon, is here so com- satellites of Jupiter, I turned next to Saturn. This mon, that not a week passes in summer, when the planet rose so late in the night that I had not seen it whole sky at sunset is not striped with ribbons, very while watching Jupiter, and I was very curious to much like the meridians on an artificial globe. But it know whether any traces of a ring could be detected by is after nightfall that our sky appears in its highest the naked eye. To my surprise and delight, the brilliancy and beauty. Though accustomed to watch moment I fixed iny eyes steadily upon it, the elongathe heavens in different parts of the world, I have tion was very apparent, not like the satellites of never seen anything like the splendour of a Persian Jupiter, at first suspected, guessed at, and then pretty summer evening. It is not too much to say, that, clearly discernible, but such a view as was most conwere it not for the interference of the moon, we should vincing, and raised my wonder that I had never made have seventy-five nights in the three summer months, the discovery before. I can only account for it from superior for purposes of observation to the very finest the fact, that, though I have looked at the planet here nights which favour the astronomer in the New with the telescope many times, I have never scrutiWorld. nised it carefully with the naked eye. Several of my "When I first came here I brought with me a six-associates, whose attention I have since called to the foot Newtonian telescope of five inches aperture, of my own manufacture, and though the mirrors have since been much tarnished, and the instrument other wise injured, its performance is incomparably superior to what it was in America. Venus sometimes shines with a light so dazzling, that at a distance of thirteen feet from the window I have distinguished the hands of a watch, and even the letters of a book. Some few months since, having met with the statement that the satellites of Jupiter had been seen without a glass on Mount Etna, it occurred to me that I was in the most favourable circumstances possible for testing the power of the unassisted eye, and I determined at once to make some experiments on the subject. My attention was, of course, first turned to Jupiter, but for a considerable time with no success. It was always so bright, and shot out so many rays, that it seemed quite impossible to detect any of its moons, even at. their greatest elongation from the planet. I varied the experiment in several ways, by looking through the tube of a small telescope, from which the lenses had been taken, and also by placing my eye near the corner of a building, so as to cut off the most brilliant rays of the planet, and yet leave the view unobstructed to the right hand or the left; but in neither case could I find any satellite. Some time after I was sitting on the terrace as daylight was fading into darkness, and thought I would watch Jupiter from its first distinct

planet, at once told me in which direction the longer axis of the ring lay, and that too without any previous knowledge of its position or acquaintance with each other's opinion. This independent collateral testimony is very satisfactory to me. I have somewhere seen it stated that in ancient works on astronomy, written long before the discovery of the telescope, Saturn is represented as of an oblong shape; and that it has puzzled astronomers much to account for it. Am I not correct in this impression? and if so, is it not pos sible that here on these elevated and ancient plains, where shepherds thousands of years ago watched their flocks by night and studied the wonders of the glorious canopy over their heads, I have found a solution of the question?

The

"After examining Saturn I turned to Venus. most I could determine with my naked eye was, that it shot out rays unequally, and appeared not to be round; but, on taking a dark glass of just the right opacity, I saw the planet as a very minute but beautifully defined crescent. To guard against deception, I turned the glass different ways and used different glasses, and always with the same pleasing result. It may be that Venus can be seen thus in England and elsewhere; but I have never heard of the experiment being, tried. Let me say here, that I find the naked eye superior for these purposes to a telescope formed of spectacle glasses of six or eight magnifying power."

other nations, and her own aounaance and prosperity. And in addition to these grounds of preeminence, looking at the earlier part of its progress, there is nothing which more distinguishes the Thames, nothing which more entitles it to palm and sceptre, than the noble edifices which rise beside its path, with all their picturesque accessories and storied associations.

THE Thames is the king of English rivers, the sovereign of that fair commonwealth of streams which wind and wander, silver-clad, among our green meadows and wooded hills, through our busy towns and by our quiet villages; reflecting from their faces the scenes they pass, and enter- We purpose during these summer weeks to take taining by their cheerful company those who some strolls along the river-side, and to stop and ramble on their banks in genial mood. His is examine a few of the far-famed edifices and other a right royal course-a regal progress of some objects which bid welcome to, and repay with a two hundred miles, across a rich domain. Nine large gratification, the intelligent and goodcounties rejoice in his presence, while they border humoured tourist. And while we specially direct his banks with manifold beauties, and increase his attention to remarkable buildings on the banks, fulness and strength with their affluents and we shall not overlook the natural scenery which tributaries. For a fourth portion of his course-environs them, nor the changeful aspects of the that which he runs last on his way to the sea-he carries on his bosom the costliest treasures of the world. No river in any clime can boast such wealth of shipping, such a prodigious amount of stores and merchandise, as the Thames, between the Nore and London Bridge. Not so often as was once the case. but still very often, does the traveller catch the first view of the great metropolis from this huge river-inlet, and nowhere can such an impression be derived of England's preeminent commercial resources, her traffic with

stream itself, at morning, noon, and sunset; and, though we shall eschew all wearisome prosaic moralisings, it cannot be doubted that ever and anon something will suggest itself which points to higher themes and interests; for who can glide along or wander near a river, in a thoughtful way, without finding much that ought, by God's grace, to mend his mind and purify his heart, and make him altogether a wiser and a better man?

We shall begin neither at the beginning nor at the end, for neither place would suit our particular

purpose. The celebrated places by the Thames are mostly in the middle of its course, and therefore it is thereabouts we shall ramble and loiter; inviting the friendly companionship of our readerfor we like to feel ourselves in company-and, under that impression, to think aloud. In this middle portion of the Thames region, however, we shall not commence at the end nearest to the source, but at the end nearest to the sea; for somehow or other, in all our river rambles we like to penetrate upwards towards the fountain, rather than downwards towards the mouth. And again, as ours is a summer ramble, we must not enter within the range of London smoke. The Tower, and Somerset House, and Lambeth Palace, and many other objects architecturally imposing and full of historic interest, are very tempting; but we have to tear ourselves unwillingly away from them, for we are bent, under the influence of these bright blue skies and yonder magnetic green fields, upon confining ourselves to rustic haunts.

Traversing the silent highway, up from Westminster, the first point really wearing a country aspect is Fulham, of which Putney Bridge commands a striking view. Leaning over it, and watching the quiet onward flow of the deep broad tide-so quiet, onward, deep, and broad for centuries on centuries past, like time itself-a thing of sameness, yet a thing of change, blending identity with variation most mysteriously-our eyes are at length drawn away from poring over this metaphysical puzzle-this moral emblem-to look on the noble and majestic row of trees on the right hand before us, forming so cool and pleasant a shade on a hot summer's day by the water-side; and to survey, through the openings of the foliage, a spacious mansion of modern appearance, but with antique appurtenances; and hard by that, and nearer to the bridge, the tall tower of a medieval church. Here we have Fulham Palace and Fulham Church, two buildings that might detain us much longer than either you, gentle reader, or we have time to spare.

We do not intend to dabble in etymologies, which of all archæological matters are the most dry, unsatisfactory, and unprofitable. We have said nothing about the derivation of the word 'Thames;" we have not even adverted to Gibson's vindication of its claim as an independent appellation; how then can we think of dwelling on such an inferior inquiry as to how Fulham came by its name-whether it means Foulham, a dirty place; or Fowlham, a place for birds? Since the birds are now singing very cheerfully in the Bishop's Walk, as the path is called, under the trees just mentioned, we shall accede to that derivation, at least for the nonce; and making our way under their broad protecting branches, with the river on one side and a moat surrounding the palace on the other, we come up at last to a goodly gateway and lodge, which, by special permission from the present distinguished occupant of the palace, we proceed to enter. That distinguished individual, as everybody knows, is the Bishop of London, and here from a very early period his episcopal prede cessors have had a summer residence. The manor was granted to Bishop Erkenweld in the year 691, and has ever since been held uninterruptedly by his successors. We cannot ascertain when or by

whom a palace was first built. We are left to paint upon the blank of a remote age some rude old castellated structure, encircled by a moat, yet, from its open and exposed situation by the waterside, showing, so Selden says, that bishops were held sacred persons whom nobody would hurt, while noblemen lay within the city for safety and security. The present buildings are mostly modern, but some parts remain of ancient date, which we shall notice as we proceed.

Before we cross the moat, and pass through the gates, do just turn and look at the fine avenue of lime-trees, running up beside the moat, as far as the Fulham road. They were planted at the time of the Revolution by bishop Compton, when king William and his Dutch companions introduced into this country their own national taste for gardening, and, among other things not so graceful, taught our fathers to plant long straight avenues, which now after the lapse of ages look so venerable and even august, and make us feel the ancient nobility of the domain they cover. We pass the lodge, that picturesque accompaniment of an English mansion, and feel how cheerful are the smiles of the trees and flowers around us, and how very merry all those little butter-cups on the lawn-like mead are looking, as they nod and laugh under the gentle fanning of summer winds.

We soon reach the principal entrance, under a large brick gateway, built by Fitzjames in the reign of Henry VII. It forms the western end of the palace, and through it we come into a quadrangle, surrounded by plain piles of building in the Tudor style, retaining still their primitive appearance, with a stone fountain of ancient form but modern workmanship standing in the middle. Here in loneliness and quietude, as the hot sun disposes the imagination to indulge in dreamy pictures of the past, one thinks of antique processions which have swept through that old gateway, and marched up to the entrance-porch in state, filling the quaint old square with ecclesiastic, civil, or military pomp-with gaiety, bustle, and merriment. In addition to dim visions of what might have been in earlier times, there comes very distinctly before us reminiscences of what has been. The high and mighty sovereign Elizabeth enters with all her courtiers and attendants on a visit to bishop Bancroft, whom we see with lowly reverence advancing to meet his royal mistress. And then there comes king James, just before his coronation, to enjoy the hospitalities of the same bishop. And then there come Charles I and Henrietta to dine with bishop Mountaigne. And lastly there comes, telling of great changes in church and state, his highness the protector Cromwell to partake of a magnificent entertainment prepared for him by colonel Edmund Harvey, to whom parliament had sold the palace.

Having amused one's self with these facts of the past, it is time to enter into the palace, where, however, but few vestiges of its former character remain, the building being for the most part modernized, and presenting now the aspect of an abode commodious, handsome, and tasteful, rather than magnificent and imposing. In bishop Robinson's time, about 1715, large alterations were made, and the once princely extent of this episcopal residence was much diminished. All the buildings

northward of the great dining-room were pulled down, and about fifty or sixty rooms left, besides the chapel, hall, and kitchen. Subsequent additions and repairs, especially under bishop Howley and his present lordship, have brought the whole into the state we find it. What once formed the grand hall is now the bishop's private chapel. To the left of the principal entrance, and in the painted windows, three on the west and one on the east -through which the light comes with an effect chastened and sombre-there may be traced the arms of the see and of its successive occupants-a | study for masters of heraldry, but a subject too minute and technical for us to notice here. Beyond the private apartments is the library, probably erected by bishop Sheldon, and forming the east side of the palace next the garden. Here are portraits of the prelates down to Randolph, and a good collection of books in original bindings, bequeathed by Porteus-altogether very tempting to a student. The place is a most fitting one in which to read Sherlock and Lowth; the lawn and trees outspread before the window very much as those accomplished scholars and divines beheld them, when, under their soothing influence, they thought over matters of criticism and taste, and of themes more important than either.

The present dining-room is quite modern. What is now the kitchen enjoyed that higher distinction till of late; and it is very curious to see the richlydecorated ceiling and some of the panels of the wall still there, surmounting the goodly fireplace, the shelves and dressers, and all the other conveniences for the culinary art. The windows now look out into a dull and gloomy little garden, but of old they commanded a view of the meadows; and here, in the reign of George III, on the 4th of June, the bishop of London, after the royal levee, used to entertain his episcopal brethren in celebration of his majesty's birthday, when the exhibition of the haymakers at their rustic toils in front of the dining-room formed a part of the usual entertainment. It was by bishop Sherlock that the room was built, and by bishop Howley that it was metamorphosed.

Till the year 1810 an old decayed chair existed in the gardens, in which it was said that Bonner used to sit and judge the protestants; and many readers will remember that frightful wood-cut in the Book of Martyrs, entitled “The right picture and true counterfeit of Bonner and his cruelty in scourging of God's saints in his gardens at Fulham." There he is, fat and burly in figure and ferocious in countenance, as history tells us that he really was, thrashing with merciless severity the victims of his intolerance. We should be glad to think that in this monster's heart there could come a touch of humanity. John Byrde, a deprived bishop of the reformed church, we are told, found an asylum with Bonner, and upon his coming, Lysson says, quoting Anthony Wood," he brought his present with him, a dish of apples and a bottle of wine." But on turning to the Athenæ Oxoniensis, we find that Wood adds: While he was there, he exhorted Mr. Hawkes, convented for pretended heresy before Bonner, to learn of his elders, and to bear with some things, and be taught by the church not to go too far. In that queen's reign he became Bonner's suffragan, and vicar of Dunmow in Essex." The whole story rather shows the pliability of poor Byrde than the humanity of the notorious Bonner. Deprived of the bishopric on the accession of Elizabeth, Bonner remained in confinement till his death, in September, 1569, when he was privately buried at midnight in St. George's, Southwark, "to avoid the notice of the citizens, and the vengeance of the people." " By his night-burial," says bishop Grindall, his successor, writing to Sir W. Cecil, "both these inconveniences have been avoided, and the same generally liked; what shall be endued of it at court I cannot tell; it is possible the report of his burial hath not there become public; but this I write unto you is the very truth."

In a postscript to this same letter, dated Sept. 9th, 1569, the writer says: "My grapes this year are not yet ripe; about the end of the next week I hope to send some to the queen's majesty." This gives us a glimpse of the early fame of the Fulham gardens, the grapes of which seem to have had a reputation like the strawberries of my Lord of Ely Of course we think, while standing here, of the in his Holborn gardens. A few days afterwards many distinguished men who have assembled round Grindall sent his annual tribute to the queen, of the hospitable board which the room once contained, the first-fruits of his vines, which, under the cir nor do we forget the visits of Haunah More here in cumstances, nearly brought him into great trouble; the time of Porteus, but fancy that we see the smiles for it was reported that the plague had broken out of the amiable prelate, as his poetical guest reads in his house at Fulham, which alarmed the queen to him her now well-known lines on Bonner's and court, lest contagion should have been conveyed ghost. Bonner's ghost! that haunts with ghastly by the bishop's present. He wrote to Cecil in selfterror both the palace and the gardens, in contrast vindication, acknowledging that one of his housewith other memories bright and pleasant! How hold had just died, but not of the plague; adding, different that man's beginning was from the pro-" But I thank God there is none sick in my house. gress and conclusion of his life! He went to Rome to plead for Catherine's divorce, and so inveighed against the tyranny of the pope, that his holiness threatened to throw him into a caldron of molten lead. At Paris, he favoured Coverdale in the printing of the scriptures, and used to visit the translator, and at his own cost give him and his associates English dinners. The only principle on which these acts can be harmonized with others in his life is, that in the first of the cases just mentioned he was seeking the favour of Henry, and in the second the favour of Cromwell, Henry's chief minister and Coverdale's avowed friend and patron.

Neither would I so far have overseen myself as to have sent to her majesty, if I had not been more assured that my man's sickness was not of the plague: and if I suspected any such thing now, I would not keep my household together as I do."

Grindall's grapes have brought us into Fulham gardens, whose celebrity from his time became matter of historical interest. Fuller, in his "Worthies," informs us that Grindall brought the tama risk-tree from Switzerland and planted it at Fulham, "where the soil being moist and fenny well complied with the nature of this plant, which since is removed and thriveth well in many other places."