"For thy they name here that stounde
A knight of tabulle round,

As maked in the mappe mound
In storye full ryght."

The editor of the romance is inclined to consider the allusion here to the " mappe mound" as "altogether fanciful;" and it certainly is extremely obscure, unless the expression has a much wider import than that of a geographical chart or map, in the usual sense of the word. The editor, however, has himself noticed an example of its use in the larger sense of a written description of the "miracula mundi." It is, indeed, impossible to suppose that a tabula rotunda is synonymous with a mappa mundi; yet, among the "miracula," or memorabilia "mundi," suitable to the embellishment of a princely hall of the thirteenth century, our ancestors would, doubtless, have given place to Arthur and his knights.

A great and undefined antiquity is now generally allowed to the romances of the Round Table. They were, at all events, current in the Norman-French of Chrestien de Troyes, Manessier, and others, at the close of the twelfth century; and from Warton we learn that Henry was conversant with the romantic fictions of the age. Is it, therefore, unreasonable to suppose that, in pursuance of the king's order, Elias of Durham selected from the memorable things, of which the stories were then current and popular, the subject of a fabulous institution intimately associated by tradition with the castle of Winchester? If such was the fact, it was no unwarrantable deception, but a pleasant conceit, to delineate his subject on a circular board, purporting to be the very Table at which the king and his paladins were wont to sit.

Mr. Smirke, however, in the purity of antiquarian conscience, questions the admissibility of this tempting hypothesis. The mappe-mound of the Thornton romance-writer he believes to have been an historical and descriptive work, or "storye," such as Sir John Maundeville mentions in his Travels. The mappa mundi at Winchester was, probably, a geographical chart of the world, according to the notions prevailing among the learned of those days. There is, indeed, reason to believe that it was a familiar domestic ornament. Waltham Abbey is known to have possessed one; there still exists one belonging

to Hereford Cathedral; and, what is more in point, there was a mappa mundi of some celebrity at the royal palace at Westminster in the fourteenth century. The map varied in its shape; but, when it represented the entire globe, it was circular.

It ought not, therefore, to surprise us to find a chart of this kind in the hall of Winchester Castle; and it is a curious confirmation of this view, that a manuscript, formerly belonging to St. Alban's Abbey, of a date not very different from that of the hall itself, contains, among other circular diagrams or "schemes " representing various cosmographical theories, one which purports to be after the design of the architect of this very hall"Secundum magistrum Elya de Derham."

The mappa at Hereford, being intended for an altarpiece, represents the day of judgment on its margin. That of Winchester may, possibly, have contained some marginal illustration, of which the subject was Arthur and his Knights. In place of this, Mr. Smirke suspects the Table to have been substituted upon the occasion of subsequent repairs. Thus, the ". "pictures" of the hall were repainted in 44 Henry III.; and, in 1825, Edward I. celebrated the creation of many Knights at Winchester, when we observe that extensive repairs were executed. Still, Mr. Smirke leaves the determination of the precise date to those whose curiosity and leisure may induce them to search for decisive evidence among the records of the Exchequer.

In the mean time, Mr. Smirke concludes, we must be content to assign to this curious work of art a respectable, but moderate antiquity. With some allowance for repainting and reparation, it is, at all events, impossible to deny it an age of about four centuries:-it is possible that it may be extended to as many as six;but the chances in the present state of the evidence are in favor of some early, intermediate date.

By way of note, we may observe, that there is an old practice which may have originated in Arthur's Round Table. This is the "Round Robin,”—a circle divided from the center, like the famed Round Table; and in each compartment is a signature, so that the entire circle, when filled, exhibits a list without priority being given to either name.

REASON AND UNDERSTANDING, ACCORDING TO COLERIDGE.

the statements of Coleridge respecting reason and understanding. (1.) Friend, vol. i, pp. 207, 208. (Pickering.)—"That many animals possess a share of understanding perfectly distinguishable from mere instinct we all allow. Few persons have a favorite dog, without making instances of its intelligence an occasional topic of conversation. They call for our admiration of the individual animal, and not with exclusive reference to the wisdom in nature, as in the case of σropyǹ, or maternal instinct or of the hexangular cells of the bees. . . . We hear little or nothing of the instincts of the 'half-reasoning elephant,' and as little of the understanding of caterpillars and butterflies."

flect and generalize. . . . . The whole process [of the understanding] may be reduced to three acts, all depending on, and suppos

first, the appropriation of our attention; second, (and in order to the continuance of the first,) abstraction, or the voluntary withholding of the attention; and, third, generalization: and these are the proper functions of the understanding."

Aids to Reflection, vol. i, p. 182, note :— "So far, and no farther, could the understanding carry us; and so far as this, 'the faculty judging according to sense' conducts many of the inferior animals, if not in the same, yet in instances analogous and fully equivalent." Does Coleridge, then, mean us to understand him as saying, that many of the brutes can reflect, abstract, and generalize?

(3.) Friend, vol. i, p. 259:-" Reason! best and holiest gift of God, and bond of

which the majesty of man claims precedence above all other living creatures— mysterious faculty, the mother of conscience, of language...

(2.) Friend, vol. i, pp. 216, 217.-"For a moment's steady self-reflection will show us that, in the simple determination 'black is not white,' or 'that two straight lines cannot include a space,' all the powers are implied that distinguish man from animals: first, the power of reflection; second, of comparison; third, and therefore suspension of the mind; fourth, therefore of a controlling will, and the power of acting from notions, instead of mere images exciting appetites; from motives, and not from mere dark instinct." And after relating a story about a dog who appeared to have employed the disjunctive syllogism, (in relation to which see Cottle's Reminiscences, vol. i, pp. 48, 49,) Coleridge remarks:-"So awful and almost miraculous does the simple act of concluding, 'take three from four, and there remains one,' appear to us, when attributed to one of the most sagacious of all brute animals."

Aids to Reflection, vol. i, p. 175: "Understanding is the faculty of reflection, reason of contemplation." And page 176:-"The understanding, then, considered exclusively as an organ of human intelligence, is the faculty by which we reVOL. I, No. 3.—T

Aids to Reflection, vol. i, pp. 176–182. Coleridge here gives his reasons for considering language a property of the understanding; and, in page 195, adds :-" It is, however, by no means equally clear to me that the dog may not possess an analogon of words which I have elsewhere shown to be the proper objects of the 'faculty judging according to sense.""

Does Coleridge mean that the inferior animals may have language ?— London Notes and Queries, No. 136.

THINK.

HOUGHT engenders thought. Place

low it, and still another, until you have written a page. You cannot fathom your mind. There is a well of thought there which has no bottom. The more you draw from it, the more clear and fruitful it will be. If you neglect to think yourself, and use other people's thoughts, giving them utterance only, you will never know what you are capable of. At first your ideas come in lumps, homely and shapeless; but no matter-time and perseverance will arrange and refine them. Learn to think, and you will learn to write; the more you think, the better you express your ideas.

THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER.

BY MRS. H. C. GARDNER.

Where yon willows skirt the water,
Shaded from the sun's fierce gleam,
Stands a miller's rustic cottage

By the margin of the stream.
Stealing softly through the marshes,
Sparkling in the shady nook,
Dancing o'er the polished pebbles

Speeds the tinkling, laughing brook.
Green ferns wave along the hillside,
And the jutting crags on high,
In their lofty, soften'd grandeur,
Seem to lean upon the sky.
Flowers are doubtless there; but sweetest,
Fairest of the blossoms wild,
All unconscious of her beauty,
Blooms the miller's only child.
"Lily of the Primrose Valley,"

Often is she call'd; but when
To her check the soft blush stealeth,
Seems she like the wild rose then.
Proud the miller's dark eye resteth

On her curls of shining brown,
Eagerly his quick ear listeth

Her light step across the down.

Glad he hears the silvery echo
Of her voice along the glen,
And her smile is like the sunlight
Of his own bright youth again.
All day long, on love's sweet mission,
Speeds she joyously and free-
Wearied not until the twilight
Deepens o'er the daisied lea.
Then the aged miller's blessing
Softly falls upon her head,
And serene and loving angels
Spread their wings above her bed.

[From the German.]

THE ORIGIN OF THE MOSS-ROSE.

A SPIRIT of air gaily roam'd o'er the flowers: Sleep fell on his eyelids-he needed repose, And sought for a refuge from dews and from showers,

Beneath the rich leaves of a beautiful rose. The Spirit awaken'd, and eager to grant

Some boon to the flower that had saved him from harm,

"O! tell me," he murmur'd, "thy wish or thy want;"

"I ask," said the rose, "one additional charm." The Spirit bewail'd the fair flower's discontent; "I may not," he sigh'd, "to improve thee presume;

How balmy, how sweet, is thy exquisite scent! How lovely thy shape! and how vivid thy bloom !"

Yet still to his promise resolved to be true,

His fancy he task'd some new grace to propose; Then smiled, waved his wings, and exultingly

threw

A vail of soft clustering moss o'er the Rose. The Rose's vain sisters rejoiced in their pride, That their charms had not suffer'd so grievous a loss: [aside, But brief was their triumph-all pass'd them To gaze on the Rose with the vesture of moss;

Revealing this truth-that though gladly we greet

Attractions and grace that our senses inthrall, We never can deem them entirely complete, Till humility casts her soft vail o'er them all.

THE RULER'S DAUGHTER.

BY REV. M. E. W. POWELL.

Beneath the shadow of a sheltering palm
The Ruler's dwelling stood. From spicy groves,
And ripen'd fields, and incense-breathing flowers
Came up sweet breezes, like the fragrant gales
From "Araby the blest."

On a low couch reclined a fair young girl
Smote by the fever-spirit; his dark wing
Was brooding o'er her, and, alas! she lay
In all her beauty, on the bed of death!
Not many days since her sweet silvery tones
Were in that dwelling heard, and gently fell,
Like liquid music, on the list'ning ear:
That voice is silent now, or faintly heard
In stifled moanings, and upon the brow
Amid her clustering curls is the pale seal
Of the destroyer set. The velvet cheek
Is scorch'd by fever, and the soft blue eyes
Have lost their dove-like beauty. How the soul
Of the fond father sunk within him there
As he beheld the gentle little one

His love had nurtured, droop, and fade, and die,
While yet the Healer linger'd! Forth he went,
And cast himself in tearless agony
Low at the feet of Jesus, praying him
To speed his coming-ere the pulse of life
Had ceased forever.

There came a messenger in breathless haste-
"Why trouble ye the Master? She is dead!"
Then fearful agony swept o'er the heart
Of the bereaved one; but gentle words
Of the Redeemer sweetly soothed his grief
And cheer'd his spirit, tho' he knew not why.
They seek the chamber where the child is laid-
The strife is past, and heavenly peace at length
Hath settled o'er the brow. The rosebud lip
Once more is wreath'd with smiles. The gentle
eyes

Are closed as if in slumber. On the cheek Lingers one parting tear. Can this be death? "She is not dead but sleepeth :" bitter scorn Curl'd each contemptuous lip, and one replied, "Nay, but the child is dead."

And warm'd the icy clay.

"Talitha-cumi!" and the low sweet voice, Scarce heard by those beside him, piercing heaven,

Was heard amidst its shoutings.

Blessed Redeemer! thine almighty word-
That raised the dead to life, and from the dust
Call'd up the body, fresh and beautiful-
Hath still its wondrous power! The mournful cry
Of trembling nature, when the fearful soul
Shrinks from some hour of trial, never fails
To reach thy gracious ear. Teach us to call
For help on none but thee: then shall we know
More than the Ruler's joy, when his sweet child
Was given in answer to his humble prayer.

THE mountain tops are glancing

With ice all silvery sheen, And autumn from the valley Strips the wreaths of leafy green. The slopes around the village Still verdant meadows show, But all the meadow flow'rets

Are wither'd long ago.

Sennerin-The young girl who has the care of the herds sent to the higher region of the Alps in summer. As the pasturage is good only a few weeks on those heights, and the distance great, it is customary for the herdsmen and some of their families, to take with them domestic provisions, and not descend till the pasture time is over. They dwell in temporary cottages. Grun describes the return with much simple beauty and a delicate touch of romance.

Hark! Hark! What from the mountain
Like joy-bells peals along?

What through the dale resoundeth
Like sweetest bridal song?
"Tis, with her herd returning,
The youthful Sennerin;
Down from the Alps she cometh,
Her home once more to gain.
The fairest of her heifers

Bears tinkling bells with pride,
With fresh flower-wreaths bedecked
Moves foremost like a bride.
Round her in frolic measure
The whole herd press and play,
As gay young friends together
Make glad some festal day
The swarthy bull, as stately

As such a chief should be,
Brings up the rear, as Abbot brings
A bridal company.

Before the nearest dwelling

Three times the maiden cries; Through alp, and dale, and village,

Far, far, the glad sounds rise. The matrons and the maidens

All quickly round her stand, And warm and true the Sennerin Reaches to each her hand.

"A thousand welcomes, fair and fresh, Brought from green alpine height! How long, how very long since we Have met each other's sight!

"For all the long, long summer

I sat there quite alone With the herd and with the blossoms, As sunlight-moonlight shone." With look serene her greeting

She gives to the young men, To one alone, the bravest,

She gives no greeting then.

He never seems to heed it,
Lets it pass with smiling mien ;-
Can it be true that fair one

So long he hath not seen?
He wears a hat all garlanded

With Alpine roses round;Ne'er blooming in the valley

Are such Alpine roses found.

SIMPLE QUESTIONS SCIENTIFICALLY ANSWERED.

FROM DR. BREWER'S "GUIDE TO SCIENCE."

removes all disagreeable tastes and smells, whether they arise from animal or vegetable matter.

Why does charcoal remove the taint of meat? Because it absorbs all putrescent effluvia, whether arising from animal or vegetable matter.

What is charcoal ?-Wood which has been exposed to a red heat, till it has been deprived of all its gases and volatile parts.

Why are water and wine casks charred inside? Because charring the inside of a cask reduces it to a kind of charcoal; and charcoal, by absorbing animal and vegetable impurities, keeps the liquor sweet and good.

Why does a piece of burnt bread make impure water fit to drink?-Because the surface of the bread, which has been reduced to charcoal by being burnt, absorbs the impurities of the water, and makes it palatable.

Why should toast and water, placed by the side of the sick, be made of burnt bread?-Because the charcoal surface of burnt bread prevents the water from being affected by the impurities of the sick

room.

it passes over the fire, becomes lighter for being heated; and, being thus made lighter, ascends the chimney, carrying the smoke with it.

What is smoke ?-Small particles of carbon, separated by combustion from the fuel, but not consumed.

to absorb the acids and impurities of a sick stomach.

Why are timbers, which are to be exposed to damp, charred ?-Because charcoal undergoes no change by exposure to air and water; in consequence of which, timber will resist weather much longer, after it has been charred.

Why does water simmer before it boils?

Why do some chimneys smoke?-Because fresh air is not admitted into a room so fast as it is consumed by the fire; in consequence of which, a current of air rushes down the chimney to supply the deficiency, driving the smoke along with it. Why are some parts of the ceiling blacker and more filthy than others?-Because the air, being unable to penetrate the thick joints of the ceiling, passes by those parts, and deposits its soot and dust on others more penetrable.

Why is water purified by being filtered through charcoal ?—Because charcoal absorbs the impurities of the water, and

bottom of the kettle, being formed into steam sooner than the rest, shoot upward; but are condensed again, as they rise, by the cold water, and produce what is called simmering."

66

Why will a pot filled with water never boil, when immersed in another vessel full of water also ?-Because water can never be heated above the boiling point: all the heat absorbed by water after it boils, is employed in generating steam.

Why does a kettle sing, when the water simmers?-Because the air, entangled in the water, escapes by fits and starts through the spout of the kettle; which makes a noise like a wind instrument.