THE LOCUST TREE.
A writer in the Long Island Star, highly recommends the cultivation of the Locust Tree, as a profitable business. He says the price of this timber is about seventy-five cents per cubic foot—that 200 trees will grow on an acre of land—or 20,000 trees to a hundred acres, which may average 20 feet per tree, which would give the enormous sum of $300,000. But suppose they amount to only $100,000, as the nett profits from 100 acres, in what way can the landholder expect so great a profit in 30 years, with the same probability of success, as from this? He mentions, that the timber, the seeds of which were planted by one man in England, was sold for 60,000l. sterling.
The locust becomes valuable in 15 years after planting, and in 25 or 30 years of full growth. It is easily raised by planting 15 or 20 trees to the acre; and as soon as the roots have spread, running a plough through the ground, and when it cuts the roots, new shoots will spring up.
This tree also invites the grass to grow under it, and the shade does not materially injure it; and while grass in the field is burnt up by the scorching rays of the sun, the locust grove will yield a rich and luxuriant pasture.
From Baldwin's London Magazine.
MEMOIRS OF RICHARD L. EDGEWORTH, Esq.[1]
The first volume contains such part of the memoirs of Mr Edgeworth as was written by himself, and is of a very different complexion from the second from the pen of his daughter. We see in every page of the former, evidence of that abundance of animal spirits, and healthy activity of body and mind, which often changed their channel of direction in the course of his life, without ever relaxing their innate spring, or losing any of their pristine force of impulse. It is indeed Mr. Edgeworth's boast, corroborated by his daughter's testimony, that he was unchanged by age, or events.—He seems to have had a ready and quick feeling for every thing that happened, just as the bulrush has a rapid sympathy with the breeze that passes over it, and raises its head exactly into its old position the instant it is gone by. Mr. Edgeworth began to marry at twenty, and continued the practice till late in life. In fact, matrimony and mechanics seem to have monopolized his fidelity: with dancing he was desperately enamoured at first, but his taste soon tired of it, though he is careful to assure us his legs never did. Gambling and dissipated companions possessed him for a time, but neither sullied his mind, nor permanently influenced his habits. Telegraphs and one-wheeled chaises, however, kept stronger hold of him: he was the first to send poetry across the channel by a chain of signals; and he contrived for himself a carriage in which his "legs were warned to lift themselves up," to escape being broken by posts, and in which he sat "pretty safe from wet," his feet being "secured by leathers which folded up like the sides of bellows."
One of his exploits in this commodious vehicle, he records in a tone of exultation with which we entirely sympathize:—
"On my road to Birmingham, I passed through Long-Compton, in Warwickshire, on a Sunday. The people were returning from church, and numbers stopped to gaze at me. There is or was a shallow ford near the town, over which there was a very narrow bridge for horse and foot passengers, but not sufficiently wide for wagons or chaises. Towards this bridge I drove. The people, not perceiving the structure of my one-wheeled vehicle, called to me with great eagerness to warn me, that the bridge was too narrow for carriages. I had an excellent horse, which went so fast as to give but little time for examination. The louder they called, the faster I drove, and when I had passed the bridge, they shouted after me with surprise. I got on to Shipton upon Stour; but, before I had dined there, I found that my fame had overtaken me. My carriage was put into a coach-house, so that those who came from Long-Compton, not seeing it, did not recognize me; I therefore had an opportunity of hearing all the exaggerations and strange conjectures, which were made by those who related my passage over the narrow bridge. There were posts on the bridge, to prevent, as I suppose, more than one horseman from passing at once. Some of the spectators asserted, that my carriage had gone over these posts; others said that it had not wheels, which was indeed literally true; but they meant to say that it was without any wheel. Some were sure that no carriage ever went so fast; and all agreed, that at the end of the bridge, where the floods had laid the road for some way under water, my carriage swam on the surface of the water."
Mr. Edgeworth was also, about the commencement of his career in mechanics, lucky enough to contrive a wheel which "should carry on a man as fast as he could possibly walk," that is to say, provided he "plied his legs with energy." On the first experiment being made, it answered its purpose so well as to give the lad within scarcely time "to jump from his rolling prison before it reached the chalk-pit; but the wheel went on with such velocity as to outstrip its pursuers, and rolling over the edge of the precipice it was dashed to pieces."
To recompense himself for this misfortune, he invented "a sailing carriage."
"The carriage was light, steady, and ran with amazing velocity. One day when I was preparing for a sail in it, with my friend and schoolfellow, Mr. William Foster, my wheel-boat escaped from its moorings, just as we were going to step on board. With the utmost difficulty I overtook it, and as I saw three or four stage coaches on the road, and feared that this sailing chariot might frighten their horses, I, at the hazard of my life, got into my carriage while it was under full sail, and then, at a favourable part of the road, I used the means I had of guiding it easily out of the way. But the sense of the mischief which must have ensued, if I had not succeeded in getting into the machine at the proper place, and stopping it at the right moment was so strong, as to deter me from trying any more experiments on this carriage in such a dangerous place. Such should never be attempted except on a large common, at a distance from a high road. It may not however be amiss to suggest, that upon a large extent of iron rail-way, in an open country, carriages properly constructed, might make profitable voyages from time to time with sails instead of horses; for though a constant or regular intercourse could not be thus carried on, yet goods of a certain sort, that are saleable at any time, might be stored till wind and weather were favourable."
One more of Mr. Edgeworth's ingenious inventions is all we can allow to this subject:—he offered for a wager to produce a wooden horse that should carry him safely over the highest wall in the country!
"It struck me, that, if a machine were made with eight legs, four only of which should stand upon the ground at one time; if the remaining four were raised up into the body of the machine, and if this body were divided into two parts, sliding, or rather rolling on cylinders, one of the parts, and the legs belonging to it, might in two efforts be projected over the wall by a person in the machine; and the legs belonging to this part might be let down to the ground, and then the other half of the machine might have its legs drawn up, and be projected over the wall, and so on alternately. This idea by degrees developed itself in my mind, so as to make me perceive, that as one half of the machine was always a road for the other half, and that such a machine never rolled upon the ground, a carriage might be made, which should carry a road for itself. It is already certain, that a carriage moving on an iron rail-way may be drawn with a fourth part of the force requisite to draw it on a common road. After having made a number of models of my machine, that should carry and lay down its own road. I took out a patent to secure to myself the principle; but the term of my patent has been long since expired, without my having been able to unite to my satisfaction in this machine strength with sufficient lightness, and with regular motion, so as to obtain the advantages I proposed. As an encouragement to perseverance, I assure my readers, that I never lost sight of this scheme during forty years; that I have made considerably above one hundred working models upon this principle, in a great variety of forms; and that, although I have not yet been able to accomplish my project, I am still satisfied that it is feasible."
Justice, however, will not permit us to go to other matters contained in these most entertaining biographical notices, without cautioning the reader not to take the standard of the utility and intelligence of Mr. Edgeworth's mechanical pursuits, from these specimens of his achievements in this line. He effected much of a more useful nature, and appears to have had very considerable talent in his way—but so in fact had King Corny.
Mr. Edgeworth's first marriage was the only unsuitable one of the several it was his fortune to make; and not finding his wife cheerful at home, he says, led him to seek cheerful company abroad. In fact, before the death of his father, we find him quite involved in the vortex of dissipation and fashion. His picture of the beau monde of those times is not without its charm. "Among the ladies who visited the Mrs. Blakes, was a Miss Dalton, the famous "Fanny, blooming fair," whom Lord Chesterfield has celebrated. He was ingenious enough to detect the legerdemain tricks of the "celebrated Comus." Miss D. told him that her relation, the famous Sir Francis Blake Delaval, had also discovered these secrets, and believed himself to be the only man in England who possessed them. This brought about an acquaintance, or rather intimacy, between Mr. Edgeworth and Sir Francis, from the description of the incidents of which we derive much amusement. They arranged together the house in Downing street, where Sir Francis lived, for the representation of conjuring tricks.
"The ingenuity of some of the contrivances, that were employed in our deceptions, attracted the notice not only of those who sought mere amusement, but of men of letters and science, who came to our exhibitions. This circumstance was highly grateful to Sir Francis, and advantageous to me. I, by these means, became acquainted with many men of eminence, to whom I could not at any period of my life have otherwise obtained familiar access. Among the number were Dr. Knight, of the British Museum: Dr. Watson; Mr. Wilson; Mr. Espinasse, the electrician; Foote, the author and actor, a man, who, beside his well known humour, possessed a considerable fund of real feeling; Macklin, and all the famous actors of the day. They resorted to a constant table, which was open to men of genius and merit in every department of literature and science.—I cannot say that his guests were always "unelbowed by a player;" but I can truly assert, that none but those who were an honour to the stage, and who were admitted into the best company at other houses, were received at Sir Francis Delaval's.
They got up the tragedy of the Fair Penitent here, to allow the late Duke of York, who afterwards died suddenly at Rome, to play Lothario; and "he was as warm, as hasty, and as much in love, as the fair Calista could possibly wish." A pleasant supper-party, he says, they had at the King's Arms, Covent Garden, after the performance.
"Macklin called for a nightcap, and threw off his wig. This, it was whispered to me, was a signal of his intention to be entertaining. Plays, play-wrights, enunciation, action, every thing belonging to eloquence of every species, was discussed. Angelo, the graceful fencing-master, and Bensley, the actor, were of the party.—Angelo was consulted by Bensley, on what he ought to do with his hands while he was speaking. Angelo told him, that it was impossible to prescribe what he should always do with them; but that it was easy to tell him what should not be done—"he should not put them into his breeches' pockets"—a custom to which poor Bensley was much addicted. Pronunciation was discussed; the faults in our language in this particular were copiously enumerated. "For instance," said Macklin, "Pare me a pair of pears." You may take three words out of this sentence, of the same sound, but of different meanings, and I defy any man to pronounce them in such a manner as to discriminate the sounds, or to mark to any ear by his pronunciation the difference between the verb to pare, the noun of number, a pair, and the fruit, pear. The pompous Bensley undertook that Powel, who was remarkable for a good ear, should do this. Bensley, who mouthed prodigiously whilst he spoke, was put behind a curtain, that the motion of his lips might not assist Powel in judging what meaning he intended to express by each of the words as he pronounced them. One of the company was placed behind the curtain, and to him Bensley was previously to communicate, whether he proposed to pronounce the word denoting the action, the noun of number, or the fruit. Bensley failed so often, and so ridiculously, that he became quite angry, and charged Powel with wilful misapprehension. To defend himself, Powel proposed that Holland should try his skill; but Holland had no better success. During these trials, I concerted by signs with Sir Francis, a method of pointing out my meaning, and I offered to try my skill. The audience with difficulty restrained their contempt: but I took my place behind the curtain, and they were soon compelled to acknowledge, that I had a more distinct pronunciation, or that Sir Francis had more acute hearing, than the rest of the company. Out of twenty experiments, I never failed more than two or three times, and in these I failed on purpose, to prevent suspicion. I had made my confederate understand, that when I turned my right foot outward, as it appeared from beneath the curtain, I meant to say pare, to cut; when I turned inward, pair, a couple; and when it was straight forward, pear, the fruit. We kept our own counsel, and won unmerited applause. Amidst such trifling as this, much sound criticism was mixed, which improved my literary taste, and a number of entertaining anecdotes were related, which informed my inexperienced mind with knowledge of the world."
One of the many excellent anecdotes which Mr. Edgeworth introduces relative to the extraordinary man of the town with whom he was now passing his time, we shall give as a sample. Sir Francis had contrived to represent the borough of Andover, in several Parliaments, by practising a series of tricks on his constituents:—but at length, he sustained a reverse of fortune, and his electioneering success terminated.
His attorney's bill was yet to be discharged. It had been running on for many years; and though large sums had been paid on account, a prodigious balance still remained to be adjusted. The affair came before the King's Bench. Among a variety of exorbitant and monstrous charges, there appeared the following article.
"To being thrown out of the window at the George Inn, Andover—to my leg being thereby broken—to surgeon's bill, and loss of time and business—all in the service of Sir F. B. Delaval.—Five hundred pounds.
"When this curious item came to be explained, it appeared, that the attorney had, by way of promoting Sir Francis' interest in the borough, sent cards of invitation to the officers of a regiment in the town, in the name of the mayor and corporation, inviting them to dine and drink his Majesty's health on his birthday. He, at the same time, wrote a similar invitation to the mayor and corporation, in the name of the officers of the regiment. The two companies met, complimented each other, eat a good dinner, drank a hearty bottle of wine to his Majesty's health, and prepared to break up.—The commanding officer of the regiment, being the politest man in company, made a handsome speech to Mr. Mayor, thanking him for his hospitable invitation and entertainment. "No, Colonel," replied the mayor, "it is to you that thanks are due by me and by my brother aldermen for your generous treat to us." The colonel replied with as much warmth as good breeding would allow: the mayor retorted with downright anger, swearing that he would not be choused by the bravest colonel in his Majesty's service.—"Mr. Mayor," said the colonel, "there is no necessity for displaying any vulgar passion on this occasion. Permit me to show you, that I have here your obliging card of invitation."—"Nay, Mr. Colonel, here is no opportunity for bantering, there is your card."
Upon examining the cards, it was observed, that notwithstanding an attempt to disguise it, both cards were written in the same hand by some person, who had designed to make fools of them all. Every eye of the corporation turned spontaneously upon the attorney, who, of course, attended all public meetings. His impudence suddenly gave way, he faltered and betrayed himself so fully by his confusion, that the colonel, in a fit of summary justice, threw him out of the window. For this Sir Francis Delaval was charged five hundred pounds.—Whether he paid the money of not, I forget."