ILLUSTRATIONS OF HUMANITY.

No. XXIII. THE "FOURTH ESTATE”— NEWSMEN AND NEWSBOYS.

IN ancient times, it is said that there were three estates of the realm-kings, lords, and commonswhich said three in one were supposed harmoniously to govern our country. But the "fourth" estate which has grown into a giant in these our days, has a capacious receiver-like Aaron's rod, it swallows up all the What would king, lords, and commons be, without the newspaper? It overshadows them, it reveals them, it controls them, it awes them! The newspaper walks through the city, flies over the country, sits on the house-top, and enters the privy chamber. Marvellous power of modern times-mighty for good, and mighty for evil!

rest.

The constituents of the "Fourth Estate" are not a little heterogeneous. There are editors-but what they are like, nobody knows, for they reside in a "region of invisibles," beyond the reach of mortal ken. There are reporters, and one gets a distant glimpse of them in the House of Commons, or the Central Criminal Court; they have the semblance of human beings, with this difference, that while every body else is listening, they are employed, like jugglers, in catching the words as they fly through the air. Besides editors, reporters, publishers, and printers, there is a mysterious class called proprietors—a far more awful branch of the "fourth" estate-the tremendous" demogorgon" of the press, one wink of whose eye could slay a basilisk. Why they are called "proprietors," is a profundity of metaphysics,-for plain men cannot unravel the complication of thought, by which a certain creature receives the appellation of proprietor of a newspaper-proprietor of a sheet of paper, which is no sooner printed, than it flies off into many hands and many lands-black-winged ravens that go forth from the ark, to return no more!

We should therefore be without any tangible demonstration of the "Fourth Estate," were it not for the "peep o' day boys," whom our artist has here held up to public view. These grim old men and grinning urchins prove a fact; and as they swarm about Catherine street and the Strand, or rush from Fleet street to Printing-house square, the philosophic observer, as he gazes on them, can say "These are types." Not printing types, recollect, but simply tpyes-say newspaper types, or types of the newspaper. These little rascals are elements of civilization; not one of them but can take the Sun in his hand, or put the Age in his pocket, or whisk the United Service under his arm. And amongst the many things to attract a stranger's gaze, as he walks from St. Paul's to Charing Cross, and marvels at the never-ending tide of existence which pours up and down that mighty channel, there is one as marvellous as all the rest, namely, little fellows distributing Globes, discharging Couriers, and getting rid even of the enormous pressure of the Times, with a lively celerity, as if it were "no trouble at all, but rather a pleasure!"

The old fellow in the foreground is a genuine newsman--he not only sells news, but he reads them. He stands unmoved amid the rush of the young fry; he sells papers, to be sure, but then he must know the "result of the division." That lad has seen a "crisis" once too often to be frightened; even his old hat seems to say,

"When the world is rinning roun' about, it's time enough to flit,

And we've aye been provided for, and sae will we yet!" As for the boys, they know nothing about whigs and tories-" ins or outs." The newsman blows no horn, but great flaming placards catch the wandering gazer's eye" second edition, sir-Times, Chronicle, Post: Patriot, sir, hav'nt got it-here, Bill, that gentleman

wants a Hatless."

We have occasionally walked to the London Post Office, to enjoy that fine sight, the evening departure of the mail coaches-a sight which might have been witnessed in all its glory only two or three years ago, but which is already to be numbered amongst the things that were. We have also occasionally stood in the hall of the Post Office, to witness the arrival of the newspapers on a Saturday afternoon-a sight which is not, certainly, of a very grand or dignified character, but often full of exciting fun.

Suppose it to

and

Let us indulge in a reminiscence. be Saturday afternoon. Some grand parliamentary event has just occurred; the House of Commons came to a division, at five o'clock in the morning, on a question the issue of which has been waited for by the nation with "intense anxiety" during the past week. Public curiosity has not been quenched by anticipation, nor has the intelligence been filtered through the London "Dailies" into the provincial cisterns. The newspaper window of the Post Office is thrown up, a receiver stands in the open space. Men and boys, from all the great newsvenders of the metropolis, are staggering, rushing, jostling up the steps, with sackloads of newspapers, those silent messengers, whose red stamp lends them wings, and enables them to fly over the kingdom. It is just six o'clock. Hark! slowly, deliberately, and solemnly, the bell of St. Paul's sounds out one! The ear, accustomed to the hasty chuck or clink of some common steeple-bell, should come and listen to St. Paul's, in order to have an idea of the dignity of sound. It is six o'clock-the newspaper window of the post office will be shut in less than a minute. Yet how long, how awful, seems the space between the stroke of one and two! In that brief moment how many sacks of newspapers have been emptied through the open window !-how many hundreds of worthy provincialists secured from the fidgets for a living day! Two now booms through the air, and the panting newsman, relieved of his load and his anxiety, wipes his forehead as he gazes on his sack-laden companions, each of whom has come a very considerable distance since the first sound of the bell, and now staggers up to the window with a full conviction of the preciousness of time-of even a moment! Three is struck, and its deep vibratory hum seems to render more in

tense the excitement, though the pert post-office hall keeper disturbs all our philosophy, by switching his cane about, and yelping out, "Go on! go on!" Four! onwards still they come, each man darting aside, as he is himself relieved, and empty sacks are tossed over the heads of fresh arrivals. Five ! it still pours newspapers as if it poured potatoes! And at last six booms out, as if the great bell were a rational and a merciful creature, willing to stretch its prerogative to the utmost, for the benefit of man. Even while the last sound is swinging through the air, dozens of "Weeklies," expected at some remote place of our isle, have saved their destination for that night; but as the vibration still continues, down comes the window with a thundershock, and the few, just in time to be too late with their burdens, stand for a moment to receive the grinning congratulations of their luckier brethren, and then turn back as heavy as they came!

Railroads have partly destroyed the "living reality" of this scene, as they have destroyed the beauty of the departure of the mail coaches. There are day mails as well as night ones; and that which misses going off at night, is taken away in the morning.

ON THE CREATION.

BY MR. T. R. J. POLSON.

Of all the subjects for contemplation of which I am aware, nature, dressed in her wild uncultivated garb, would seem to me the most interesting and attractive. Clad in all the magnificent vestments of majestic grandeur and awful sublimity, she causes admiration to glow within us, and proclaims in her most sequestered retreats, the excellent character of that Being, whose eye pervades all her scenes, and to whose sovereignty, nature, both wild and grand, cultivated and otherwise, must prostrate herself in humble submission,-acknowledging him as her Governor and supreme Controller. If we visit her in her sylvan retreats, we are overwhelmed with surprise,—if we repair to the gloomy cavern, and walk through its numerous recesses, we are struck at the appearance she assumes there, if we ascend the side of a craggy and abrupt precipice, we are astonished at beholding her operations there. See her bedecking the fields in spring, and casting her golden cloak over her extensive demesne in the autumnal quarter, and what emotions will not be produced within us! But in fact, wheresoever we behold her, she appears in God-like majesty, presiding over every scene, and dispensing favours on every thing within her sphere. And how admirably calculated are such scenes as these to beget within us some of the loftiest reflections! If we turn our eyes from the gently running rivulet to the impetuous river, throwing its mighty waters with irresistible fury down the inaccessible side of some rocky cliff, we are led to remember, with infinite delight, that Almighty Being at whose right hand are rivers of pleasure, and joys for evermore. In the vegetable kingdom if we transfix our eyes upon some tender scion, after we have beheld the huge oak and lofty pine, we think of that Being in whose presence is the tree of life which never fades, and of whose fruit we all hope to be one day participating. Nature, the theme of many an aspiring poet, declares, vociferates throughout her boundless empire, the entity of our Eternal King, his glory, wisdom, and bounty, and would call upon us to adore Him. In obedience to what He desires, she spreads jessamines and hyacinths in the

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unenlightened negro's path, when he knows not from whom they come, or whose wisdom paints them in their inimitable shade; in obedience to His command her feathered throng charm the ear with their symphonious sounds, and dedicate to Him their ceaseless songs.

That meditation tends in an admirable manner to exalt one's ideas, and to fill one's mind with the most dignified conceptions, cannot be doubted. No person will be so audacious as to abnegate a truth which is so obvious and apparent; or to deny that the mind of man, that inestimably valuable talent, entrusted to him by his Creator from the first moment of his existence, is capable of improvement. This, the chief criterion and distinguishing characteristic between the rational and irrational creation, was given to him, that in the exercise of its powers, he might be convinced of the excellence and supremacy of his Creator, and that he might be enabled to form a more accurate estimate of what he ought to make the primary object of his existence, than what he could otherwise have done in the absence of this capacity. Through the medium of the mind we are assured of the corruptibility of our external frame, and the immortality of its inhabitant; we no longer imagine ourselves created merely for caprice, and the ostentation of an ambitious Creator,—we conceive ourselves no longer of ignoble origin, but realise in our nature, traces of a Divine character; in the exercise of this faculty we are prompted to lift our affections from off the sordid, sensual, and perishable things of this world, and to fix and establish them in that more heavenly land, where

"Every thing eternal is, and nought shall grieve us more." One of the most precious gems that a person has is his mind, and this talent, given him by the Author of his being, should be duly appreciated. To improve it, if it be susceptible of improvement, which none will fail to admit, should be our earnest desire, insomuch that all the talents which we have given us, should be duly valued, and proper attention paid to the improvement of each. None of our Lord's talents are to be buried in the earth, else why should they have been given, or of what advantage would they have been to us? He who would do this, must necessarily deserve to be called an unprofitable servant; signal disadvantages attend him in his journeyings through this probationary sphere, ignorance enshrines itself around his soul, and casts a gloom over the pleasantest and gayest of his hours.

Certainly he that values his immortal soul, will not neglect to feed it with the precious truths of the Gospel ; he will not but endeavour to subdue all carnal propensities, since he knows they will only tend to impede him in his journey to heaven, and to retard him in his progressions in the way leading to eternal life. Contemplation will not tend in the slightest to obstruct him; it will rather urge him to proceed, to magnify his Creator, to lessen his opinions of the world, and while he considers religion to be divine, it will not fail to act as an impetus, actuating him in all his concerns, and exciting him to secure his mansion in the skies, as an object greatly to be desired, dearer to him than all things, and of incalculable value. It is also to be inferred, that since the mind of man can be made subservient to such a noble and excellent purpose, the neglect of the cultivation of it, is highly criminal and condemnatory. There is no person but has had given him some opportunity of improving his intellectual faculties, the omission of which cannot but involve him in losses, and materially injure his best interests in the several states of life in which it may happen that he may be placed. By neglecting this, even his secular interests are blighted; he can fill no situation of importance

-he reigns without emitting one brilliant spark, for he is eclipsed by the brightness of those who surround him, like the glow-worm and stars, that no longer appear dazzling, when Sol peeps above the horizon. How many in the decline of life have been known to repine at not having embraced in their young days, the varied opportunities they were afforded of enriching their minds! The young should not defer this work, in expectation of more favourable opportunities approaching; this may never be the case; the present time can only be called our own, and surely it should not be permitted to pass in frivolous amusements, when our futurity depends upon the use we make of it.

To contemplate the works with which we behold ourselves environed, cannot fail to originate in the mind some of the most sublime and lofty ideas respecting Jehovah. Glory and majesty veil themselves around him, which though impenetrable to mortal vision, usher him into our minds as the Original of all-the glory of the heavens, and the preserver of all things. The mind of man, although the inhabitant of an earthly tabernacle, a temple of clay, is capable of ranging through a much more extensive sphere than we might at first imagine, from the narrow limits in which it has its abode. Though destined to continue with man in his journeyings below, it does not necessarily confine itself to the speculation of what is earthly; it soars to regions immeasurably distant, and loses itself amidst the glory and excellence of innumerable worlds, each endeavouring to surpass in glory and brilliancy, manifest attestations of the exalted character of that infinite Being, from whom emanates that resplendent glory with which Scripture informs us the celestial Canaan is bedecked, and of whose transcendent excellence we cannot conceive even the faintest idea. Weak and fragile as unenlightened man appears, he is possessed of powers, of which the strongest, most stately, and most beautiful of the other animals which exist around him cannot boast. Beauty of form, and symmetry, it must be confessed, are conspicuous in his external appearance; but his internal and actuating parts are not less worthy of admiration: if he make a proper application of them, cultivating his intellectual faculties, and appreciating them as they deserve, an imperishable halo will enshrine itself around his soul, which, even when his body shall have been consigned into the silent receptacle of mortality, nay, long after it shall have analysed itself into its mother composition, will shine with increasing lustre and effulgent radiance, until it be appointed to a mansion of immortality in the land beyond the grave. As eternal happiness is the chief aim of our existence, all our contemplations should be made subservient to this grand object; and those which tend to effect this, should certainly merit our warmest consideration. In the exercise of the powers of ratiocination, the mind should be constantly employed even from the earliest years-I repeat it, even from the earliest years, as the mind in its infant state is most easily impressed, and most susceptible of imbibing those immortal sentiments, which if attended to, cannot fail to facilitate and promote our good both here and hereafter. The mind in its soft and tender state, should be properly seasoned and supplied with information. It should be made to exercise itself from the earliest period possible, by reflection and retention. Education ought to be initiated in it, when it is young and flexible; and by these means we shall be able to indulge more confidently the hope of its casting a sunshine over the evening of our lives, and of making that latter stage pass more agreeably and gaily, provided we can review a pleasing retrospect, and solace ourselves with the reminiscences of a well-spent life. The procrastination of this most important work, is attended with some of the most

distressing consequences. The intellects become languid, the faculties weakened, and in consequence our ideas of almost every subject are very faint, and we can form no comparative estimate of any of the sublime works that meet our eyes in every direction. Study and diligence must become concomitants whenever any advantage is expected to be reaped. Every professor must first devote a few years' application to the object after which he is in quest,-and so should we, in order to reap any intellectual advantage, avail ourselves of every opportunity that is afforded us, appreciating our moments as they deserve.

A general, when he contemplates the capture of any city or town, will use the utmost circumspection and caution; carefully meditating every attack beforehand, and thinking of the most effectual means of discomfiting the enemy, and securing to himself his possessions. Honour and fame prompt him to act thus. He loves to add laurels to his brow, and to perpetuate his fame by his signal successes. But what are these? "The laurels of the warrior are only the ensigns of our mortality." We read of the mighty acts of the valiant, and the many victories they achieved; but the king of terrors" presided at the scene, and consigned hundreds, nay, perhaps thousands of them, friends and foes, to their parent dust. Our immortal destiny is only realised in the achievements of the philosopher. The trophies of victory bring to our recollection the brevity and vanity of our existence; philosophic truth exalts our ideas of characters of an immortal nature, "That will flourish and bloom, When the brow of the warrior lies shrouded in gloom."

PERILOUS VISIT TO AN ASIATIC
VOLCANO.

[The following account of a perilous expedition to a volcano in one of the Sandwich islands, has been drawn up by Professor Silliman, from the statements of two American captains, who visited the volcano in 1838.]

EARLY in the morning, on the 7th of May, Captains Chase and Parker, in company with several others, left the port at Lord Byron's Bay, for the purpose of visiting the celebrated volcano of Kirauea. After travelling a few miles through a delightful country, interspersed with hill and valley, and adorned with clusters of trees, hung with the richest foliage, they came to a forest several miles in extent, so entangled with shrubs and interwoven with creeping vines, that its passage was extremely difficult. On issuing from this, the scenery again wore a pleasing aspect, but was soon changed into a dreary waste. Their route was now in the direct course of a large stream of lava, thirty miles in length, and four or five in breadth. The lava was of recent formation, with a surface, in some places, so slippery, as to endanger falling, and in others so rugged, as to render it toilsome and dangerous to pass. Scattered around, were a few shrubs that had taken root in the volcanic sand and scoriæ; and on each side of the stream grew a stunted forest. Mouna Roa and Mouna Kea were seen in the distance, and on either side stretched the broad expanse of the ocean, mingling with the far horizon. The party had travelled nearly the whole extent of the current of lava before sunset: they were, however, much fatigued, and gladly took possession of a rude hut erected by the islanders, where they slept soundly through the night. Early the next morning, ere the sun rose, they resumed their journey, and soon a beautiful landscape broke upon their view; but its delightful scenery detained them only a few moments, for the smoke of the volcano was seen rising gracefully in the distance. Quickening their march, they arrived soon after nine o'clock at a

smoking lake of sulphur and scoriæ, from which they collected some delicate specimens of crystallised sulphur, and proceeded on.

The next object which attracted their attention was a great fissure five or six hundred feet from the crater. It was about thirty feet wide, five or six hundred feet long; and from all parts of it constantly issued immense bodies of steam, so hot that the guides cooked potatoes over it in a few minutes. The steam on meeting the cold air is condensed; and not far from the fissure on the north, is a beautiful pond formed from it, that furnishes very good water, and is the only place where it occurs for many miles. The pond is surrounded with luxuriant trees, and sporting on its surface were scen a large flock of wild fowl. It was now ten o'clock; and the whole party, since passing the lake of sulphur, had been walking over a rugged bed of lava, and standing by the side of vast chasms of fathomless depth. They had now arrived at the great crater of Kirauea, eight miles in circumference, and stood upon the very brink of a precipice, from which they looked down more than a thousand feet into a horrid gulf, where the elements of nature seemed warring against each other. Huge masses of fire were seen rolling and tossing like the billowy ocean. From its volcanic cones continually burst lava, glowing with the most intense heat. Hissing, rumbling, agonizing sounds came from the very depths of the dread abyss, and dense clouds of smoke and steam rolled from the crater.

Such awful, thrilling sights and sounds were almost sufficient to make the stoutest heart to recoil with horror, and shrink from the purpose of descending to the great seat of action. But men who had been constantly engaged in the most daring enterprises-whose whole lives had been spent on the stormy deep, were not easily deterred from the undertaking. Each one of the party, with a staff to test the safety of the footing, now commenced a perilous journey down a deep and rugged precipice, sometimes almost perpendicular, and frequently intersected with frightful chasms. In about forty-five minutes they stood upon the floor of the great volcano. Twenty-six separate volcanic cones were seen, rising from twenty to sixty feet; only eight of them, however, were in operation. Up several of those that were throwing out ashes, cinders, red hot lava, and steam, they ascended; and so near did they approach to the crater of one, that with their canes they dipped out the liquid fire. Into another they threw large masses of scoriæ, but they were instantly tossed high into the air.

A striking spectacle at this time was its lakes of melted lava. There were six; but one, the south-west, occupied more space than all the others. Standing by the side of this, they looked down more than three hundred feet upon its surface, glowing with heat; and saw huge billows of fire dash themselves on its rocky shore-whilst columns of molten lava, sixty or seventy feet high, were hurled into the air, rendering it so hot that they were obliged immediately to retreat. After a few minutes the violent struggle ceased, and the whole surface of the lake was changing to a black mass of scoriæ; but the pause was only to renew exertions, for while they were gazing at the change, suddenly the entire crust which had been formed commenced cracking, and the burning lava soon rolled across the lake, heaving the coating on its surface, like cakes of ice upon the ocean-surge. Not far from the centre of the lake there was an island which the lava was never seen to overflow; but it rocked like a ship upon a stormy sea. The whole of these phenomena were witnessed by the party several times, but their repetition was always accompanied with the same effects. They now crossed the black and rugged floor of the crater, which was frequently

divided by huge fissures, and came to a ridge of lava, down which they descended about forty feet, and stood upon a very level plain, occupying one-fourth of the great floor of the crater. This position, however, was found very uncomfortable to the feet, for the fire was seen in the numerous cracks which intersected the plain only one inch from the surface. Capt. Chase lighted his cigar in one of them, and with their walking-sticks they could in almost any place pierce the crust, and penetrate the liquid fire. Sulphur abounds every where in and around the volcano; but here the whole side of the precipice, rising more than a thousand feet, was one entire mass of sulphur. They ascended several feet, and were detaching some beautiful crystallised specimens, when accidentally a large body of it was thrown down, and that rolled into a broad crack of fire, and obliged them immediately to retreat, for the fumes that rose nearly suffocated them.

They had now been in the crater more than five hours, and would gladly have lingered; but the last rays of the setting sun were gilding the cliffs above, and they commenced their journey upward, which occupied them about one hour and a quarter. They repaired to their rude hut, and while the shades of evening were gathering, despatched their frugal meal. Curiosity, however, would not allow them to sleep without revisiting the great crater. Groping along, they reached the edge of the precipice, and again looked down into the dread abyss, now lighted up by the glowing lava. The whole surface of the plain, where they had observed cracks filled with fire, appeared as though huge cables of molten lava had been stretched across it. While examining these splendid exhibitions, the entire plain, more than one-fourth of the whole crater, was suddenly changed into a great lake of fire; its crusts and volcanic cones melted away, and mingled with the rolling mass. They now hurried back, astonished at the sight, and shuddering at the recollection that only a few hours had elapsed since they were standing upon the very spot. The next morning they returned to the crater for the last time. Every thing was in the same condition: the new lake still glowed with heat, the volcanic cones hurled high in the air red hot stones mixed with ashes and cinders, and accompanied with large volumes of steam, hissing and cracking as it escaped, and the great lake in the south-west was still in an agitated state. The situation of the volcano of Kirauea is very remarkable, differing from every other of which we have an account. It is not a truncated mountain, rising high above the surrounding country, and visible from every quarter; nor is it seen until the traveller, after crossing an elevated plain near the foot of Mouna Roa, suddenly arrives at a precipice from which he looks down into its dread immensity.