designs were sanctioned and his abilities honoured more freely there than on his native soil. Here his honours were confined to some tributes of applause at public dinners, and to the statue by Gibson, the sculptor, which the Liverpool merchants have honoured themselves by erecting to his memory in St. George's Hall.

His health was shaken by a journey which he took into Spain with Sir Joshua Walmsley, to examine and report on "the Royal North of Spain Railway," and which on inspection and inquiry he discountenanced, with a consideration for the shareholders which many of them did not appreciate till late. His closing labours were chiefly devoted to his extensive collieries at Claycross and his lime-works at Ambergate, on behalf of the latter of which he actively promoted the Ambergate and Manchester Railway, which received the sanction of Parliament in 1848, and which was the last line in the promotion of which he took any part. A pleasing picture is given of his closing years at Tapton, rearing pumpkins, petting animals, hatching birds' eggs by artificial heat, and conceiving and applying glass cylinders to take the sharp curves and gradients out of his cucumbers. He was present when Sir Robert Peel cut the first sod of the Trent Valley line. This was the last meeting he attended, with the exception of one at the Leeds Mechanics' Institute, where he encouraged his audience, as his custom was, in homely phrase, by telling the story of his life and pointing its moral. The rest of his days were spent at Tapton with his dogs, rabbits, and birds, and in the culture of exotics. In fact, the heat of his forcing-houses is thought to have brought on the fever which carried him off on the 12th of August, 1848, in the sixty-seventh year of his age.

"He was one of Nature's gentlemen," and "nothing was • more remarkable than his extreme ease and self-possession in the presence of distinguished and highly-educated persons." Like many other simple and natural characters, he appears to have retained his boyishness to the very last. To the last he knew every bird's nest on his grounds, and rather late in life he would sometimes invite Mr. Bidder to a quiet wrestle in their office when business was slack. It is said by one who knew him intimately, and who is not prone to take an exaggerated view of character, that there were times when his eye kindled and his frame dilated under the influence of some conception which he had been working out abstractedly, and when in homely but luminous phrase he became actually eloquent. An incident of

his visit at Sir Robert Peel's house, Drayton Manor, is in this sense very remarkable :

"One Sunday, when the party had just returned from church, they were standing together on the terrace near the hall, and observed in the distance a railway train flashing along, throwing behind it a long line of white steam. "Now, Buckland,'* said Mr. Stephenson, I have a poser for you. Can you tell me what is the power that is driving that train?" 'Well,' said the other, I suppose it is one of your big engines.' 'But what drives the engine?' 'Oh, very likely a canny Newcastle driver.' 'What do you say to the light of the sun?' How can that be?' asked the doctor. It is nothing else,' said the engineer; it is light bottled up in the earth for tens of thousands of years,-light, absorbed by plants and vegetables, being necessary for the condensation of carbon during the process of their growth, if it be hot carbon in another form, and now, after being buried in the earth for long ages in fields of coal, that latent light is again brought forth and liberated, made to work, as in that locomotive, for great human purposes.' The idea was certainly a most striking and original one; like a flash of light, it illuminated in an instant an entire field of science."

Such, then, was George Stephenson: man and boy, pitman and prince of the natural powers of his century.—Abridged from 'The Times' newspaper.

BERNARD PALISSY.

BERNARD PALISSY is supposed to have been born in the south of France, in the diocese of Agen, about the year 1510. His father was probably a worker in glass, to which trade Bernard was brought up. His parents were poor people-too poor to give him the benefit of any school education. "I had no other books," said he afterwards, " than heaven and earth, which are open to all." He learnt, however, the art of glass-painting, to which he added that of drawing, and afterwards reading and writing.

When about eighteen years old, the glass trade becoming decayed, Palissy left his father's house, with his wallet on his back, and went out into the world to search whether there was any place in it for him. He first travelled towards Gascony, working at his trade where he could find employment, and occasionally occupying part of his time in land-measuring. Then he travelled northwards, sojourning for various periods at different places in France, Flanders, and Lower Germany.

* Dr. Buckland was Dean of Westminster, and a famous geologist.

Thus Palissy occupied about ten more years of his life, after which he married, and ceased from his wanderings, settling down to practise glass-painting and land-measuring at the small town of Saintes, in the Lower Charente. There children were born to him; and not only his responsibilities but his expenses increased, while, do what he could, his earnings remained too small for his needs. It was therefore necessary for him to bestir himself. Probably he felt capable of better things than drudging in an employment so precarious as glass-painting; and hence he was induced to turn his attention to the kindred art of painting and enamelling earthenware. Yet on this subject he was wholly ignorant; for he had never seen earth baked before he began his operations. He had therefore everything to learn by himself, without any helper. But he was full of hope, eager to learn, of unbounded perseverance and inexhaustible patience.

It was the sight of an elegant cup of Italian manufacturemost probably one of Luca della Robbia's make-which first set Palissy a-thinking about the new art. A circumstance so apparently insignificant would have produced no effect upon an ordi- . nary mind, or even upon Palissy himself at an ordinary time; but occurring as it did when he was meditating a change of calling, he at once became inflamed with the desire of imitating it. The sight of this cup disturbed his whole existence; and the determination to discover the enamel with which it was glazed thenceforward possessed him like a passion. Had he been a single man he might have travelled into Italy in search of the secret; but he was bound to his wife and his children, and could not leave them; so he remained by their side groping in the dark in the hope of finding out the process of making and enamelling earthenware.

At first he could merely guess the materials of which the enamel was composed; and he proceeded to try all manner of experiments to ascertain what they really were. He pounded all the subtances which he supposed were likely to produce it. Then he bought common earthen pots, broke them into pieces, and, spreading his compounds over them, subjected them to the heat of a furnace which he erected for the purpose of baking them. His experiments failed; and the results were broken pots and a waste of fuel, drugs, time, and labour. Women do not readily sympathise with experiments whose only tangible effect is to dissipate the means of buying clothes and food for their children; and Palissy's wife, however dutiful in other respects, could not be reconciled to the purchase of more earthen pots, which seemed to

her to be bought only to be broken. Yet she must needs submit; for Palissy had become thoroughly possessed by the determination to master the secret of the enamel, and would not leave it alone.

For many successive months and years Palissy pursued his experiments. The first furnace having proved a failure, he proceeded to erect another out of doors. There he burnt more wood, spoiled more drugs and pots, and lost more time, until poverty stared him and his family in the face. Thus," said he, "I fooled away several years, with sorrow and sighs, because I could not at all arrive at my intention." In the intervals of his experiments he occasionally worked at his former callings, painting on glass, drawing portraits, and measuring land; but his earnings from these sources were very small. At length he was no longer able to carry on his experiments in his own furnace because of the heavy cost of fuel; but he bought more potsherds, broke them up as before into three or four hundred pieces, and, covering them with chemicals, carried them to a tile-work a league and a half distant from Saintes, there to be baked in an ordinary furnace. After the operation he went to see the pieces taken out; and, to his dismay, the whole of the experiments were failures. But though disappointed, he was not yet defeated; for he determined on the very spot to "begin afresh."

His business as a land-measurer called him away for a brief season from the pursuit of his experiments. In conformity with an edict of the State, it became necessary to survey the saltmarshes in the neighbourhood of Saintes for the purpose of levying the land-tax. Palissy was employed to make this survey, and prepare the requisite map. The work occupied him some time, and he was doubtless well paid for it; but no sooner was it completed than he proceeded, with redoubled zeal, to follow up his old investigations "in the track of the enamels." He began by breaking three dozen new earthen pots, the pieces of which he covered with different materials which he had compounded, and then took them to a neighbouring glass-furnace to be baked. The results gave him a glimmer of hope. The greater heat of the glass-furnace had melted some of the compounds; but though Palissy searched diligently for the white enamel he could find none.

For two more years he went on experimenting without any satisfactory result, until the proceeds of the survey of the saltmarshes having become nearly spent, he was reduced to poverty again. But he resolved to make a last great effort; and he

began by breaking more pots than ever. More than three hundred pieces of pottery covered with his compounds were sent to the glass-furnace; and thither he himself went to watch the results of the baking. Four hours passed, during which he watched; and then the furnace was opened. The material on one only of the three hundred pieces of potsherd had melted, and it was taken out to cool. As it hardened, it grew white-white and polished! The piece of potsherd was covered with white enamel, described by Palissy as singularly beautiful!" And beautiful it must no doubt have been in his eyes after all his weary waiting. He ran home with it to his wife, feeling himself, as he expressed it, quite a new creature. But the prize was not yet won--far from it. The partial success of this intended last effort merely had the effect of luring him on to a succession of further experiments and failures.

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In order that he might complete the invention, which he now believed to be at hand, he resolved to build for himself a glassfurnace near his dwelling, where he might carry on his operations in secret. He proceeded to build the furnace with his own hands, carrying the bricks from the brickfield upon his back. He was bricklayer, labourer, and all. From seven to eight more months passed. At last the furnace was built and ready for use. Palissy had in the mean time fashioned a number of vessels of clay in readiness for the laying on of the enamel. After being subjected to a preliminary process of baking, they were covered with the enamel compound, and again placed in the furnace for the grand crucial experiment. Although his means were nearly exhausted, Palissy had been for some time accumulating a great store of fuel for the final effort; and he thought it was enough. At last the fire was lit, and the operation proceeded. All day he sat by the furnace, feeding it with fuel. He sat there watching and feeding all through the long night. But the enamel did not melt. The sun rose upon his labours. His wife brought him a portion of the scanty morning meal,-for he would not stir from the furnace, into which he continued from time to time to heave more fuel. The second day passed, and still the enamel did not melt. The sun set, and another night passed. The pale, haggard, unshorn, baffled, yet not beaten Palissy, sat by his furnace, eagerly looking for the melting of the enamel. A third day and night passed-a fourth, a fifth, and even a sixth,—yes, for six long days and nights did the unconquerable Palissy watch and toil, fighting against hope; and still the enamel did not melt.

It then occurred to him that there might be some defect in the