28 Young Man in Prison. (VOL. 4 he had the letter in his hand; he held the hand that I had taken fell lifeless it out to me, and putting it into mine, upon the bed; and an inward groan again had recourse to the dictionary: was the last symptom of life that shewand pointing to the word "resignation," ed itself. The next moment he was I said “ I would bave it so.” numbered among the dead! He shook his head, and put his finger I returned to my house smitten with upon the word " rejected." I then grief, and subdued by the sad spectacle understood that he felt his resignation which I had witnessed. I know not, might be rejected, as he had attempted indeed, a more difficult, or a more tryto take away his own life. I asked him ing duty of the pastoral office, than that if this was what he meant? He pressed which calls him to the death-bed of the my hand in assent." If you feel re- self-murderer. In instances of insanity, signed, it is the effect of your repentant the question is not left to his decision; consciousness. The wound which you but in those which the overwhelming have inflicted upon yourself, was the force of disappointed pride and infuriresult of despair; but resignation is the ated passion produce, the responsibility companion of hope. You resign your of a spiritual counsellor is fearfully imself to the merciful goodness of your plicated-He is conscious that he dares GOD-You acknowledge your unwor- not inculcate an unqualified hope, and thiness-You rely on the intercession of he feels that it is not for man to consign your Redeemer-You abhor the ini- his fellow creature to condemnation and quities of your life-You abjure the in- despair-be can only in such cases fidel principles which actuated you to wherein time is given, between the deneglect every religious duty--You shud- plorable act and the hour of death, exder with the deepest contrition at the cite the repentant reflections of the dydeed of self-destruction-You repulse ing man to an abhorrence of the rashevery idea of self-justification--You ness of the deed, and of the criminal cast away every plea-every argument pursuits which have led to it. Yet as which the unbeliever has advanced in it generally happens, that, when reflecdefence of suicide. The death you tion returns to the perverted mind, it have sought, you now dread as likely brings with it a profound regret at havto deprive you of everlasting life. Do I ing prematurely cut itself off from the interpret your mind aright ?" continuance of life, it requires much He turned over the pages of the dic- penetration to discover whether the tionary with haste, and put his finger penitence avowed be the genuine soron the word "Yes," then upon that of row of a renewed heart:-and notwith"Believe"—"Saviour”—“ Eternal”-standing the most faithful efforts on the "Blessedness." Well, then, you would have me conclude that you die in this belief?" He placed his hand upon his breast, and raised his eyes to Heaven. I then told him, that he was in the hands of his Almighty Creator, and I committed him to his disposal, imptoring a sentence of mercy for his soul. He stretched out his right hand towards me, and lifting his left to his head, I saw that the surgeon's apprehension was realized. A drowsiness was already come upon him; and the short convulsive twitches of the body, which usually precede dissolution when mortification takes place, became more frequent. At last, a general insensibility spread itself over his whole frame part of the minister to make this discovery, he is too frequently compelled to content himself with recommending the wretched offender to the Divine Mercy, and with assuring him that it is infinite, and extends beyond the contracted limits of human judgment-still, he trembles at the possibility of the affrighted soul's clinging to a presumptuous dependence on the one hand, or on the other, sinking into the sinful despondency of a repulsive mistrust. It is a most afflictive strait, both for the bewildered patient, and for him from whom he looks for comfort and support in his last moments of remorse and dread. The humane sympathies of the man may incline the minister towards the milder course of administering consola VOL. 4.] Young Man in Prison. 29 tion to the patient-but the godly faith- iniquity, which at once becomes the fulness of the christian guide forbids limit of his crimes, and the cause of him to temporize with the justice of their punishment. It is then that reHeaven. It is true, he calls to mind flection returns, and his conscience arins where it is written that "mercy rejoiceth itself against him-that conscience against judgment," but with the ac- which might have preserved him, had knowledgement of the one he is con- he listened in time to its seasonable adstrained to blend the convictions of the monitions, now persecutes him with other, and he knows there is no imme- maddening thought on what he has diate alternative. In the case before been, what he is, and what he might me, I beheld a young man, who, from have been. He now possesses no powthe earliest period of expanding intel- er to remedy the past, no opportunity lect to the dreadful instant of self-mur- to secure the future, and no escape from der, had given the reins to his passions, the present. He feels that he is accurs. and had unhesitatingly violated the pu- ed by man, rejected by God, and haterest principles of moral, social, and reli- ful to himself. The burden of reflecgious restraint the profligate notions tion becomes too heavy for his mind to of the libertine, and the corresponding bear, weakened as it is in all its best insolence of the infidel, had supplanted energies, by a life of dissipation, and every just, honourable, and pious feel- overwhelmed by self reproach, no ing of the heart; the most lamentable strength is left for endurance, no fortiConsequences ensued, and even before tude offers its aid to hold him up behe had contemplated the probable issue neath the pressure of that retribution -for it is repugnant to humanity to that crowds upon his soul in all the suppose, that, had this heedless criminal various shapes of personal disgrace, uniforeseen the destruction which his guilt versal execration, and a remorseful reproduced, he would have deliberately miniscence, fruitiess of every other conpersevered in his evil ways-that, could sequence but such as leaves him in the he have contemplated, as the insepara- forlorn state of utter privation of all ble certainties of his transgressions, a good, and a desolate consciousness that father's heart riven in twain, and a mo- he suffers the deserved recompense of ther's intellect overturned by his impla- his iniquity, unpitied and disowned by cable disobedience-a friend's wife de- all who knew him. He awhile surveys graded to infamy and contempt, and his condition-he looks around him that friend himself murdered, by his li- from the brink of the precipice on which centious villainy he would have delib- he stands---he sces the clouds of darkerately arranged his plans to effect the mess behind him, he hears the thunder progressive accomplishment of deeds so of wrath and judgment threatening him full of horror and perdition. But, of on all sides, even now, the lightnings of all the delusions to which man is sub- divine vengeance burst upon his devoject, those with which his own corrupt ted head ! No kindly refuge presents heart obscures his judgment, are the itself-no friendly arm upholds him--most subtle and destructive-" So far no shelter, no defence within his reach ! I will go, and no farther," is the decep- In every blast of the storm denunciation tive persuasive with which he satisfies astounds his ear. He casts a look behimself at his first outset in vice. Vain, neath him-a fathomless abyss yawns presumptuous resolve !--Some other to receive him. He thinks no longer. allurement courts his senses, the gratifi- he rushes upon the terrible alternative. cation of which demands a farther for- and makes his woes eternal! feiture of honour and virtue-this at- But, sir, I will no longer dwell upon tained, another, and another still suc- so melancholy a picture, which there is ceed, until he finds himself so enveloped too much reason to fear, bears the porin the maze of depraved enjoyment, that traiture of the life and death of many a he loses all power to retrieve himself by self-destroyer, among those victims of a retreat, and he plunges forward, with a faithless world, who have sacrificed a, desperate ardour, to some enterprize in life of early hope and future promise to 30 30 Ancient Customs-The Ducking Stool, &c. [VOL. 4 And the contaminations of the lawless. and mangled remains of mortality. the vile, and have involved in the mise- most fervently do I pray that it may ries of their fall, the happiness of pa- arouse the salutary emotions of earnest rents, and the consolations of all who consideration in the heart of every have relatively or socially been unfor- youth who reads it, and so induce him, tunately allied to and connected with before it be too late, to make the wiser them. I now subjoin the letter which choice of that path of life thro' which the individual whose death I witnessed, religion and virtue will guide his steps put into my hands a few moments be- in peace, into the happy possession of a fore his burthened soul shook off the glorious immortality. ANCIENT PUNISHMENT OF SCOLDS, &c. From the London Monthly Magazine. BRITISH MUSEUM. FROM ORIGINAL PAPERS IN THE 3d ducking stool, of plain oak, with an iron bar before it to confine the person in the seat, but made no inquiries about it. I mention these things, as the practice seems now to be laid aside. "TRUN DUCKING STOOLS. RUMBELLUM is an engine of punishment which ought to be in everie libertie that hath view of frank pledge, for the coercion of scoldes and unquiett women, vulgarlie called ducking stooles; but these tumbrills, as you may read in an auncient statute, were also ordayned for the punishment of bruers breaking the assize."* Cole, 48, 172. An Act that every Alderman's Wife shall have a Scarlet Gown. Md. 7 Oct. 2d. Eliz. It was ordained that every alderman who has been mayde before Christmas next shall buy for his wife a gown of scarlet; and that When I was a boy, I remember to every mayor, before the Michaelmas have seen a woman ducked for scold- next, after his election, buy for his wife ing; the chair hung by a pulley fasten- a scarlet gown, upon forfeiture of 101. ed to a beam about the middle of the five pounds to the use of the town, 50s. bridge, in which the woman was con- to the poor man's box, and 50s. to the fined and let down under the water use of the mayor. And that their three times, and then taken out. The wifes shall wear their gowns at the bridge was then of timber, before the feasts following Christmas day, Easter present stone bridge was built. The day, Ascension day, Whitsunday, &c. ducking stool was constantly hanging &c. To forfeit 20s. for every default; in its place, and on the back pannel of 5s. to the poor's box, 5s. to the mayor, it was engraved, "devils laying hold and 10s. to the use of the town. of scolds," &c. Some time after a new chair was erected in the place of the old one, having the same devices carved on it, and well painted and ornamented. When the new bridge of The Gule of August, a term frestone was erected in 1754, this was taquently used in old deeds, means no ken away, and I lately saw the carved more than the first of August, from the and gilt back of it nailed up by the Latin word gula, a throat; from a shop of one Mr. Jackson, a silversmith, person at Rome being cured of a disorin the Butcher-row, behind the town, der in that part by kissing the chains who offered it me, but I did not know of St. Peter, with which he was bound what to do with it. In Octob. 1776, in the persecution under Nero. The I saw in the Town-hall the old one ; I nean behind, or rather partly on the ened by us from Loaf-mass; a mass of same is also called Lammas-day, softsoatherest corner of the modern one, a thanksgiving for the fruits of the earth, or of the corn, being anciently celebrat * Statute 51. Henry III. statute of assize.. Ordinance for the town of Cambridge. THE GULE OF AUGUST. VOL. 4.] Journal of a Tour in England, by the Austrian Archdukes. 31 ed in England on this day, and not some have supposed; for in all ancient from any lambs being offered on that Saxon books it is called hlaf-mass day by tenants to their landlords, as that is, loaf-mass. Cole, xxiii. 12. ; JOURNAL OF A TOUR IN ENGLAND. SITRACTED FROM THE MS. NOTES OF THEIR IMPERIAL HIGHNESSES THE ARCHDUKES JOHN AND LEWIS, OF AUSTRIA. From the New Monthly Magazine, August, 1818. HAVING received a third series of the pieces of wood which are to form the remarks of these illustrious the head are first put together, and the Travellers on England from Vienna, we resume our extracts. The manufactory in which casks are made by machinery, which we saw in Glasgow, is very remarkable. The possessor of it gets the birch wood from the Scotch mountains, and the oak from North America. All the wood is cut by circular saws, which are put in motion by a steam engine. By the first cut the wood receives the proper length for the pipe staves. We saw wood eight inches thick cut in a moment. The workman lays the piece across two iron bars, and presses it against a second saw, which cuts the block lengthwise into as many staves as its thickness allows. In the space of one minute, from twelve to fourteen staves were cut in our presence, from two and a half to five feet in length; the sides of the staves are also fashioned by saws. Thus prepared, they put them into the machine by which they are to be bent. Every size of casks has a machine of its own. A table bears a double bar of iron circularly bent, according to the curve which the stave is to receive; on this table is a contrivance, like the cutting-blade of the saw mills, upon which the stave is laid; it is brought to the saw by a handle: a second presses it together: the saw is narrow, and the stave, pressed in the direction of the arc of a circle, receives the necessary curvature. This stave also receives from the saw such a bending, that by means of the connection between the two iron bars and the cutting blade, it takes the second form. whole put into the cutting machine, by which it is seized and quickly turned round in a circle, in the middle of which is the machine. By means of a cutting iron the rim is cut circularly: two other slanting pieces of iron smooth the rim. The workman can at pleasure draw these irons farther away or nearer to him, and the bottom of the cask is thus finished in a few moments. They bore holes in these bottoms, that they may be fastened together with wooden nails. As these casks are designed for rum, the aroma is extracted by a particular process. When the staves are placed in order, they put the cask into an iron cylinder of the same form and size. The cask rests on a moveable cross over an axis, the cylinder stands perpendicular, the staves project a little over its edge, and an instrument consisting of three cutting knives is now put on this rim; one of the irons makes a cut in which the head is to be fastened, the second cuts off the top rim, and the third planes it. When this is done, the iron hoops are put round, and the cask is finished. These casks form a principal export article to the American islands. The circular saws and the hoops are made in the same manufactory: the former, of steel bands, from Sheffield, which they cut and file; the hoops are of wood, and are bent without the aid of fire. The saw-dust and the chips are distilled in a great retort, from which they obtain vinegar as well as tar. We also viewed the great Clyde Canal, the navigation of which is of the The staves of birch wood are then utmost importance to the trade of made up into bundles for sale. Those Glasgow, Liverpool, Dublin, Belfast, of oak wood they make into casks in the Londonderry; and also Leeds, Newcasmanufactory itself. For this purpose tle, and Hull. It may be said that all the 32 Journal of a Tour in England, by the Austrian Archdukes. [VOL. 4 coasts of Great Britain and Ireland, in From Glasgow you may visit the their trade with Russia, Sweden, Nor- Highlands of Scotland; but the bad way, Denmark, and all the north part season, and constant fogs, hindered us of Germany, derive essential benefit from taking this journey. The country from it, as it shortens the distance from is fine: handsome villas surround the about eight hundred to one thousand city, and on the north the mountains miles. This canal is particularly of great rise in an amphitheatre. Ben-Lomond, importance in winter, during the season one of the highest mountains of Scotland, when ships cannot sail round Scotland. as well as those which surround LochIn that season three ships are employed Lomond, are visible. in the canal in breaking up the ice. On the 2d of December, we left The construction of this great work Glasgow, and took the road to Edin. was begun in the year 1768, andfinish- burgh, only turning a little aside to see ed in the year 1790: it reaches the the Carron Works. The road leads river Clyde near Bowlingbay, and both over the hills and the Monkland canal. seas thus have a communication. The So much as we could distinguish through Company who undertook the construc- the thick fog, the country lies high, and tion of it by consent of Parliament, is is well cultivated. Beginning at Kilsyth, called the Society for the Navigation of fourteen miles from Glasgow, where the Forth and Clyde. The expenses horses are changed, you leave the valley, amounted in the year 1799 to 421,525l. in which the canal flows, to your right; sterling; which sum was by an act of at which place a marsh has been formed. Parliament recognised as the Company's The digging of the canal was here the capital. The number of share-holders most difficult, on account of the thick is at present one hundred and twentyeight; and the income it was said amounted in the year 1815 to 50,000l. sterling. The canal of Monkland, which belongs to another Company, is united with the Clyde canal. slime, which in some paces is fifty feet deep, at the bottom of which loan and sand are first met with. The canal was obliged to be dug in a turf-ground. An iron rail-way goes from one coalInine to the canal, and crosses the road. The country between Edinburgh and Glasgow, as we were assured, is the richest in coals of any in the whole The city of Glasgow becomes more extensive and beautiful every day; almost in every street old houses are seen to vanish to make room for beautiful country. All the hills of the southern buildings; only last year about four hundred new houses were built. The many manufactories, the navigation on the Clyde and in the canal, the neighbourhood of the sea,all these greatly contribute to enliven the city and its environs. But the poverty of the people seems however to be greater than in other British cities. chain of the Pentland range, to the Northerly granite and basalt mountain, are supposed to be full of coals, and would, it is calculated on these data, be enough to supply the consumption of Great Britain for a thousand years to come. Where the marsh ends, the water declines to the East, and here the sluices The defection of the American Colo- begin. You then reach Falkirk, a little nies was a severe blow to the trade of town, in which there is a great coal Glasgow, from which it has, however, magazine for the Carron works. Two perfectly recovered, through the new roads lead to it. The Carron works sources which have been opened to it in the West Indian markets, and the European continent; and these have been greatly facilitated by the navigation of the canal and the Clyde. In the year 1768, a bridge was built over the river Clyde, which has 7 piers, built in a curve against the stream, in order to break the force of the current. lie in a beautiful valley, two miles to the north of Falkirk, and the great number of the ever-smoking chimnies announces them already at a distance. Nobody is admitted without the permission of the owners. The building is immensely large, and regularly built along the Carron, which is navigable to the canal. The ore is purchased in |