66 windy nonsense; "to renaygue," ie., to | English is strongly developed, is that of revoke at whist, or refuse, as a horse at a intentional mispronunciation, also very jump; "to collogue;" and a "glory-hole," dangerous and misleading in mixed soa lumber-room or general repository for ciety. This often grows out of some useless objects. Irish, also, are the actual blunder, and the desire to perpetuphrases, "of self" (sponte sud), "by ate it. Thus, a member of the writer's her (or his) lone," when an English speaker family, on encountering for the first time would say "by herself," and "dear knows," the word “Chloe " in the pages of a book "the dear knows," though readers of Mrs. she was reading aloud, boldly pronounced Ewing will remember that this is also to be it "Shaloo," to the great delight of all found in the mouth of Yorkshire speakers. present. To this day we find it hard to Unlike their English sisters, Irish ladies conform to the ordinary method of proare often in the habit of using harmless nouncing the word. Jeopardy," again, and picturesque expletives in the domestic if pronounced as it is spelt, is a much circle, occasionally borrowing them from more impressive word than in its threethe vocabulary of lower social strata. syllabled form. Here the grotesque effect Such are Glory be to goodness!" is arrived at, consciously or unconsciously, "Blessed hour!" and many others. Nem- by the conscientious effort after accuracy. esis is propitiated by the phrase, "In a In other cases a contrary process progood hour be it spoken," which answers duces the desired effect. The inability the purpose of the German unberufen. displayed by some persons to catch a Apart from accent or brogue, Irish people betray their nationality by the peculiar meaning which they attach to certain words. A cupboard is seldom so called, 19 press being its Irish representative; while the Celtic taste for floridity is evinced in a predilection for the term avenue," as opposed to "drive." 66 66 sound correctly is perfectly astounding. As an American would say, they cannot get within a foot of the right word. It is hardly necessary to add that such persons do not make good linguists or musicians. But, on the other hand, excellent cooks and most intelligent gardeners are to be found amongst them. Only a few weeks Turning from the Anglo-Irish dialect, ago, we heard some delightful instances which even in its most polite form is full of this word-torturing faculty as unconof individual turns of expression, to the sciously practised by one of the former consideration of the peculiarities of our class. This good lady always spoke of native tongue as spoken by natives, we "moustachio-nuts." Croquettes became would here call attention in passing to a "crocuses," and chervil "charcoal." subject already discussed in these col- After all, the strangest forms of Enumns, that of family lingos. A domes-glish are to be found in dictionaries, or, to tic argot is full of charm and peril. It is be more explicit, in the English half of the outward symbol of that intimate free-dictionaries compiled by assiduous formasonry which prevails between the mem-eigners. Polymeres's "English Modernbers of a circle who measure things by the Greek Lexicon" is a never-failing source same standard. On the other hand, persons who employ it to any great extent are constantly in danger of bewildering outsiders by using it in mixed society. In some cases it takes the form of intentional malaprops. Thus one family with whom the writer is acquainted constantly allude to the male or female "sect," and talk of " voluminous ?? a person with a figure. Surreptuously" is another favorite word of the same circles. Again, some families are in the habit of Anglicizing French words to express shades of meaning not to be found in the language of the dictionary. To pronounce dogmatically on any point is, in one such family lingo," to pontify," an excellent coinage, to be puzzled is "to be intrigued," and an easy attitude is said to be " degaged." Another trick observable in quarters where this tendency to tamper with the queen's 66 66 996 to com a of amusement to us. We cannot do bet- From St. James's Gazette. MY BROTHER HENRY. Ar first sight it may not, perhaps, seem quite the thing that I should be hilarious because I have at last had the courage to | annoying man; but, unfortunately for my kill my brother Henry. For some time, self, I loathe entering upon explanations however, Henry had been annoying me. to anybody about anything. When I ring Strictly speaking, I never had a brother for my boots and my servant thinks I want Henry. It is just fifteen months since I a glass of water, I drink the water and began to acknowledge that there was such remain indoors. Much, then, did I dread a person. It came about in this way. I a discussion with Scudamour, his surprise have a friend of the name of Keltie, who, when he heard that I was Henry (my like myself, lives in London. His house Christian name is Thomas), and his comis so conveniently situated that I can go ments on my youthful appearance. Bethere and back in one day. About a year sides, I was at that moment carving a and a half ago I was at Keltie's, and he tough fowl; and, as I learned to carve remarked that he had met a man the day from a handbook, I can make no progress before who knew my brother Henry. Not unless I keep muttering to myself, "Cut having a brother Henry, I felt that there from A to B, taking care to pass along the must be a mistake somewhere; so I sug-line CD, and sever the wing K from the gested that Keltie's friend had gone wrong body at the point F." There was no likein the name. My only brother, I pointed lihood of my meeting Scudamour again, out with the suavity of manner that makes so the easiest way to get rid of him seemed me a general favorite, was called Alexan- to be to humor him. "I therefore told him der. "Yes," said Keltie, "but he spoke that Henry was in India, married, and of Alexander also." Even this did not doing well. "Remember me to Henry convince me that I had a brother Henry, when you write him," was Scudamour's and I asked Keltie the name of his friend. last remark to me that evening. Scudamour was the name, and the gen- A few weeks later some one tapped me tleman had met my brothers Alexander on the shoulder in Oxford Street. It was and Henry some six years previously in Scudamour. "Heard from Henry?" he Paris. When I heard this I probably asked. I said I had heard by the last frowned; for then I knew who my brother mail. 'Anything particular in the let Henry was. Strange though it may seem, ter?" I felt it would not do to say that I was my own brother Henry. I dis- there was nothing particular in a letter tinctly remembered meeting this man which had come all the way from India, Scudamour at Paris during the time that so I hinted that Henry had had trouble Alexander and I were there for a week's with his wife. By this I meant that her pleasure and quarrelled every day. I ex- health was bad; but he took it up in anplained this to Keltie; and there, for the other way, and I did not set him right. time being, the matter rested. I had," Ah, ah!" he said, shaking his head however, by no means heard the last of Henry. 66 sagaciously, "I'm sorry to hear that. Poor Henry!" "Poor old boy!" was all I Several times afterwards I heard from could think of replying. "How about the various persons that Scudamour wanted to children?" Scudamour asked. "Oh, the meet me because he knew my brother children," I said, with what I thought Henry. At last we did meet, at a Bohe-presence of mind, "are coming to Enmian supper-party in Furnival's Inn; and, almost as soon as he saw me, Scudamour asked where Henry was now. This was precisely what I feared. I am a man who always looks like a boy. There are few persons of my age in London who retain their boyish appearance as long as I have done; indeed, this is the curse of my life. Though I am approaching the age of thirty, I pass for twenty; and I have observed old gentlemen frown at my precocity when I said a good thing or helped myself to a second glass of wine. There was, therefore, nothing surprising in Scudamour's remark, that, when he had the pleasure of meeting Henry, Henry must have been about the age that I had now reached. All would have been well had I explained the real state of affairs to this gland." "To stay with Alexander?" he person. Of course I laughed at that, and | by several persons that I was going to pointed out not only that I had the pleas- Bombay. In short, I saw that the time ure of Henry's acquaintance but that you had come for killing Henry. So I told and I had a talk about the old fellow every time we met. 'Well,' Keltie said, this is a most remarkable thing; for Tom,' meaning you, 'said to me in this very room, sitting in that very chair, that Alexander was his only brother.' I saw that Keltie resented your concealing the existence of your brother Henry from him, so I thought the most friendly thing I could do was to tell him that your reticence was doubtless due to the fact that Henry's private affairs were troubling you. Naturally in the circumstances you did not want to talk about Henry." I shook Scudamour by the hand, telling him that he had acted judiciously; but if I could have stabbed him quietly at that moment I dare say I should have done it. I did not see Scudamour again for a long time, for I took care to keep out of his way; but I heard first from him and then of him. One day he wrote to me saying that his nephew was going to Bombay, and would I be so good as to give the youth an introduction to my brother Henry? He also asked me to dine with him and his nephew. I declined the dinner, but I sent the nephew the required note of introduction to Henry. The next I heard of Scudamour was from Keltie. By the way," said Keltie, "Scudamour is in Edinburgh at present.' I trembled, for Edinburgh is where Alexander lives. "What has taken him there?" I asked, with assumed carelessness. Keltie believed it was business; "but," he added, "Scudamour asked me to tell you that he meant to call on Alexander, as he was anxious to see Henry's children." A few days afterwards I had a telegram from Alexander, who generally uses this means of communication when he corresponds with me. "Do you know a man Scudamour? reply," was what Alexander said. I thought of answering that we had met a man of that name when we were in Paris; but, on the whole, replied boldly: "Know no one of name of Scudamour.' About two months ago I passed Scudamour in Regent Street, and he did not recognize me. This I could have borne if there had been no more of Henry; but I knew that Scudamour was now telling everybody about Henry's wife. By-and by I got a letter from an old friend of Alexander's asking me if there was any truth in a report that Alexander was going to Bombay. Soon afterwards Alexander wrote to me to say that he had been told Keltie that Henry had died of fever, deeply regretted; and asked him to be sure to tell Scudamour, who had always been interested in the deceased's welfare. The other day Keltie told me that he had communicated the sad intelligence to Scudamour. "How did he take it?" I asked. "Well," Keltie said reluctantly, "he told me that when he was up in Edinburgh he did not get on well with Alexander. But he expressed great curiosity as to Henry's children." "Ah," I said, "the children were both drowned in the Forth; a sad affair we can't bear to talk of it." I am not likely to see much of Scudamour again, nor is Alexander. Scudamour now goes about saying that Henry was the only one of us he really liked. From Nature. THE SCIENTIFIC WRITINGS OF JOSEPH UNDER the above title, two handsome or As may be inferred from the earlier of these dates, when Faraday was still an assistant to Sir Humphry Davy, in the laboratory of the Royal Institution, and Henry a private tutor in a family at Albany, New York, many of these papers are reprinted for their historical interest rather than for their present scientific value; but his fellow-countrymen, in acknowledging Faraday's pre-eminence, delight to point out in how many particulars Henry walked pari passu with him in the vols. 8vo, pp. 1082. Washington: Smithsonian InThe Scientific Writings of Joseph Henry, Two stitution, 1886. The great work of Professor Joseph Henry's life-in which his strength and calmness of judgment, his high-minded independence and self-effacement, enabled him to achieve the highest results the organization of the Smithsonian Institution upon its present liberal basis, in the face of not a little opposition from persons of more contracted views. was then nearly untrodden paths of electro- | the extreme complexity of the phenommagnetism, under immense relative disad-ena. vantages. As early as 1835, Henry, then a professor at Princeton, New Jersey, connected his residence with his laboratory in the philosophic hall by a telegraph, in which the galvanic circuit was completed through the earth - probably the first realization of that familiar property on which all our telegraph circuits are now dependent. It was a little later (in 1842) that he showed the writer of this short "These I's are egos, and not oculi," is a notice, under promise of secrecy, an ex- line from some forgotten squib which he periment which at the moment greatly was wont to quote when self-interest interested him. A long bar of iron was seemed to obscure the only interest prewrapped in a coil or ribbon of copper, half cious to him that of science in its widest an inch wide; two copper wires, each ter- scope, and the advancement of human minating in a small ball, were soldered to knowledge. He lived to see the wisdom the bar. On holding these balls to the of his policy gratefully acknowledged by ears, and transmitting a strong current his countrymen and the scientific world. through the coil, a very distinct musical Although a very fertile inventor, and the note was heard each time the current was author of many ingenious contrivances made or broken. He narrowly missed now in use to facilitate the working of the forestalling Faraday in the great discov- electric telegraph, he never patented anyery of producing electric currents by the thing. In his own words, he "did not rotation of an electro-magnet or move- consider it compatible with the dignity of ment of its armature. Henry caused an science to confine the benefits which might electro-magnet of unusual power to be be derived from it to the exclusive use of constructed in August, 1831, with a view any individual." The expression is not to realizing his conceptions on this sub-carefully chosen; it simply means that he ject. He was at the time accidentally declined to derive selfish advantage from interrupted in pursuing his experiments, his discoveries. A very brief and modest and did not resume them until May or statement by himself of what these were June, 1832; and in the mean time (in Feb- in relation to the electro-magnetic teleruary, 1832) Faraday had made his inde- graph is reprinted in vol. ii. from the pendent discovery.* As early as 1843, Smithsonian annual report for 1857. In Henry proposed "a new method of apply- collecting and reprinting these papers, the ing the instantaneous transmission of an institution has raised a worthy monument electrical action to determine the time of to Henry's memory, and made a valuable the passage of a (cannon) ball between two contribution to the history of physical sciscreens, placed at a short distance from ence. J. H. L. another in the path of the projectile," and contrived a self-recording apparatus reading to the one-thousandth part of a second. As at that time Hutton and the ballistic pendulum reigned supreme- and this is not an experiment easily made in a laboratory — it does not appear that he carried it out. Perhaps the most elaborate of his numerous researches is that on the transmission of sound in relation to fog. signalling, carried on at the expense of the United States Lighthouse Board for several years from 1865 onwards, concurrently with those on which Professor Tyndall was at that time engaged for the Trinity Board. That these distinguished men did not always meet with the same effects, or draw the same conclusions from them, is but a natural consequence from Philosophical Magazine, April, 1832. From St. James's Gazette. THE LAKE CITY OF BORNEO. EARLY one morning in March a gunboat left the island of Labuan, where several vessels of the China squadron were lying, conveying the admiral and a party of officers to visit the sultan of Brunei; a Malay potentate who in former days ruled over the whole of the north of Borneo. Brunei, the largest city in Borneo and one of considerable antiquity, is situated on the Brunei River, about fifteen miles from its mouth. The river, varying from two to four hundred yards wide, flows through lovely scenery; the low hills which confine it on either hand being covered with most luxuriant tropical vegeta tion, conspicuous among which are groves | What little trade there is is in the hands of a small colony of Chinese, whose houses are conspicuous as the only ones built on the bank. of cocoanut-palms. As we steamed slowly up an occasional alligator thrust his snout out of water, monkeys chattered in the trees, and birds of brilliant plumage darted across the river; but, save for numerous fish-traps or pens, formed by driving bamboos into the river bed, we saw hardly any sign of human handiwork until a bend in the river brought the city itself to view. As we approach the town we observed, rising on the hillside from a small clearing in the dense jungle, a tall white flagstaff, at the top of which floated the union-jack; below it, built on piles in the river, was a commodious house, with verandahs and a long entrance hall. As we reached this a Malay canoe, vigorously propelled by two paddlers, darted out and came alongside, conveying a venerable-looking, picturesquely clad old Malay, who came on board and announced himself as the British resident at Brunei. A few minutes later we dropped anchor opposite the palace, in the main street, some two hundred yards wide. We were speedily surrounded by a crowd of canoes, slender shallow dug-outs. A few of their occupants offered creeses for sale; but the majority seemed to lack the commercial instinct, and suffered the indulgence of their curiosity to be interfered with by no schemes for turning so unexpected an event to their material advantage. The town consists entirely of houses built on piles, and it occupies the greater part of a nearly circular lake, from a quarter to half a mile in diameter, formed by the widening out of the river. The main stream sweeps round close to one bank, and is skirted on its shore side by a line of houses, among which is the palace; but the mass of the town lies on the other side. The houses are of wood, roofed for the most part with palm-leaves, one or two with sheets of zinc; the palace is distinguishable from the rest only by its greater extent, and by an orange ensign, which was hoisted on our arrival. The population, formerly about thirty thousand, is now only twelve thousand and is decreasing. The chief occupation of the inhabit ants is fishing; they have little inclination for commerce, and a large proportion of them are hangers-on of the sultan, whose revenue, about thirty thousand dollars, consists chiefly of the subsidies paid by Sarawak and the British North Borneo Company, and the rent of the Muara coalmines near the mouth of the river, which are now being worked by a European. A great part of this he spends on his harem. Ancient as the city is reputed to be, the hills which run down to the verge of the lake are for the most part densely covered with jungle, showing no signs of cultivation, except just round the half-dozen Chinese dwellings. The natives live over the water, and draw the major part of their food from it; the paddle and the net are more congenial to their hands than the axe and the plough, and their repugnance to manual toil effectually supplements the pious instinct which forbids them rifling with sacrilegious hands the bowels of their hills, reputed as they are to abound in mineral wealth. On one of the hills was a large cemetery, with a small temple close to the bank; apparently it is only when the last great ill has befallen him that the Malay can rest on shore. Shortly after noon the sultan received the admiral and the rest of us in audience. We were ushered into a long wooden hall, furnished with a long table, and with a raised daïs covered by a decorated canopy at one end. Along the walls hung some framed and glazed passages from their sacred book. The supply of chairs was at first inadequate; and when at last we were all seated the various character of our seats armchairs, rocking-chairs, stools, etc. indicated that the resources of the palace had been severely strained. We were served with coffee and cigarettes the latter eight or nine inches long, made of tobacco rolled in palm-leaf; and then, while the admiral through his interpreter carried on a somewhat fragmentary conversation with the sultan, we sat and smoked our cigarettes, which were excellent, and observed our surroundings. A sort of balcony which ran round the hall was crowded with young princes of the blood, too numerous to count; who gazed at us with rounded eyes, while as many of their mammas as possible peeped through chinks in the wall of the hall which abutted on the women's quarters. The sultan is an intelligent-looking elderly man, showing evident signs of the debauchery in which he spends the major part of his ample revenue. He was clad in the usual native dress, with a richly ornamented creese thrust into his girdle and a goldembroidered skull-cap. His two chief ministers sat by him and took part in the conversation; one was rather a handsome man, the other far from it. After taking leave of the sultan we |