lar at Whitby; but that beautiful phenomenon was certainly witnessed there, though the period, calculating from the formation to the dissolution of the annulus, did not exceed one minute thirty seconds it was accompanied by a tremulous or undulatory motion, and seemed as if the lines were interrupted, or appeared to break or dissolve into each other.

On the evening previous to the eclipse, the atmosphere exhibited considerable dryness, for a saline efflorescence had covered the entire surface of the pier like hoar frost.

Prior to the commencement of the phenomenon on the 15th May, I retreated from Whitby and took my station in a sequestered spot among the cliffs, that I might in solitude and silence contemplate, undisturbed, the glorious spectacle. In the shade at this spot at 1h. and 42′ p. m. the thermometer indicated a temperature of 68° F.; it then fell gradually at the rate nearly of two degrees for every ten minutes. At the period of the formation of the annulus, and of course of that of greatest obscuration, the temperature had fallen to 53° F. From this moment it gradually rose, and the thermometer at the close of the eclipse stood at 60° F. It is stated that during the period of greatest obscuration in the total eclipse of 1724, the thermometer had fallen only 2°. Short says, in reference to the eclipse of 1748, that they experienced no perceptible sensation of cold during its progress; but M. Cassini de Thury, who accompanied the King of France to Compeigne to observe this eclipse, states the reverse, though the thermometer fell only 2°. (Reamur?) In the present case, I not only became sensible of the increased cold, but the grassy carpet of the ground around me felt perceptibly damp. In fact, the hygrometry of the atmosphere was considerably changed. At 2h. and 50′ p. m. the flowers of the ficaria ranunculoides began to close, were soon afterwards followed by those of the daisy, and towards the termination of the eclipse all had sunk to rest, and the closure of their petals was complete; forming a beautiful illustration of the somnus of that great naturalist, the distinguished LINNEUs, as applied by him to the repose of plants. Several other flowers which enamelled the sod around me, were also more or less affected. A few flowers of the daisy and ficaria ranunculoides, which I had culled during the eclipse when their petals were closed, afterwards re-opened their flowers when put into water and exposed to the sunbeam.

I may be permitted to remark that shortly after the impact and the umbra had made its appearance on the solar disc, I observed a faint light on the left of the apex of the umbra; it might be a de

ceptio visus, but a somewhat similar appearance was witnessed by the celebrated MacLaurin in 1737, immediately before the completion of the annulus, towards the middle of the moon's circumference, not yet in contact with the disc of the sun.

During the period of the eclipse, insect life was still and motionless; the birds of the air flew near the ground, and there was a peculiar solemnity in the silence which reigned around me-unbroken save by the song of the lark, which rose at intervals: even the "attic warbler" was mute, however, during the maximum obscuration. At the close of the eclipse numerous insects appeared, and the lark soared higher with its welcome note. The atmosphere had been almost free from clouds, but floating cumuli collected and condensed; and toward the close of the eclipse had rallied, as if in sympathy round the standard of the sun. The diminution of light was by no means so great as many had expected; no stars were visible-Venus, perhaps, might have been seen had not clouds at the time obscured her path. The light, during the greatest obscuration of the sun, was quite peculiar; nature assumed a lurid aspect, and the sea, too, had a different livery from its usual tone of colour. It was not a twilight hue,-it was "itself alone," such as I have seen in looking through a Claude Lorraine glass. The Prophet's language describes it-"The light was neither clear nor dark. It was not day nor night." During the solar eclipse of 1820, I was among the Serpentine rocks near Portsoy, Scotland, and the diminution of light on that occasion seemed greater than in the present instance.

My distance from the tide-gauge did not enable me to consult it during the eclipse; but the usual height of the tide would have had its maximum on the 15th ultimo at 3h. 43': it did not, however, begin perceptibly to recede until four o'clock p. m., if it did not rather continue to flow so long. A death-like silence seemed to pervade the great deep, but about the maximum obscuration of the sun, I heard a wave below me "utter its voice," and "dash hoarse along

the shore."

A friend informed me, while at Horncastle, that the tulips and anemonies in his garden there, shut their flowers during the eclipse, his bees ceased to work, the Thrush carolled his vespers or 66 even song," and the poultry retired to roost. At Hull the maximum of temperature in sunshine was 86° F., and the maximum in shade 74° F. The minimum in sunshine during the eclipse was 64°5, and in the shade 64° F. At 3h. 27' p. m. the thermometer in sunshine was 1° 30' lower, there than in the shade: and a friend at Sheffield told me a similar phenomenon was observed in that town. I am inclin

ed to think that this is entirely attributable to the difference of contraction in the base and stem of the instruments, from the variation in the rate of cooling; that in the sun being more rapid in its transition than the other.

I remain, Sir, yours, &c.

Hull, 22nd June, 1836.

J. MURRAY.

SIR,

TO THE EDITOR OF "THE ANALYST."

During a voyage across the Atlantic in the New York Packet Ship, Roscoe-Captain Delano-our conversation one day happened to turn on "the non-permeability of glass by water," when the Captain very obligingly allowed me to copy the following notes from his log-book; which notes I have great pleasure in forwarding to you, as they confirm the experiments made by Mr. Rudder, of which a description is given in the 13th number of The Analyst.

An experiment to ascertain the pressure of the sea, off the Isle of France, 8th May, 1826, ship Florida :

1. A glass globe, bought for the purpose, was fastened to the leadline and sunk by three leads to the depth of 280 fathoms.

2. On the same line, 18 fathoms above the globe, I put a small bottle with an air-tight glass stopper.

3. Forty fathoms above this, a stout glass bottle, with a good cork sealed and covered with three coats of linen dipped in hot pitch. Each coat was allowed to cool before the other was put on.

4. Thirty fathoms above this, another bottle was attached to the line, much stouter and corked and sealed like the first, with only one covering of cloth.

5. Forty fathoms above this was a small bottle filled with fresh water, well corked.

6. Thirty fathoms from this an empty bottle, corked tight and sealed, a sail-needle passed through the cork and projecting on both sides.

On hauling up the line

The empty bottle (No. 6) with the sail-needle was half full of water, and the cork and sealing as perfect as ever.

The cork of the second (No. 5) was loose and raised a little, and the fresh water a little brackish.

The third bottle (No. 4) which was sealed and covered with a single piece of sail cloth, came up with very little water in it, and the cork and cover of cloth pitched quite perfect.

The fourth bottle (No. 3) with the covers of linen, was broken, except the neck where the line was fast.

The fifth bottle (No. 2) which had a long glass stopper, was about half full of water.

The globe (No. 1) came up in all respects as it was sent down, with not one drop of water in it.

Time of experiment, one hour.

I remain, Sir, yours, &c.

H. T. M.

Chester, Sept. 12, 1836.

BIRMINGHAM SOCIETY OF ARTS.

EXHIBITION OF PAINTINGS BY THE OLD MASTERS.

WE have had several such truly magnificent collections of pictures by the old masters amassed within the walls of this institution, that we cannot but deem the opinion of some contemporary prints, that the present exhibition is superior to any of its predecessors, rather an unfair decision. We are apt to think most highly (in many instances) of that which we have seen most recently; and with such a gallery as this before our eyes, even we ourselves, perhaps, do less than justice to the gems of art which have gladdened us in former years. We will, therefore, avoid all opinion on this subject, prudently observing, with Mrs. Malaprop, that "caparisons are odorous;" and straightway proceed to employ the brief space to which a pressure of scientific matter limits us, in pointing out to our readers a few of our especial favourites in this truly splendid collection.

Portraits of a Lady and Child, by Vandyck, is, without any doubt, the loveliest portrait in the rooms; and we question if Britain contains its parallel. Every peculiar charm and perfection which characterise the paintings of this eminent master are here assembled; and over all is thrown a something more than painting, an indescribable effect which makes us think the history of the beings before us some half-remembered tale, and fancy strives to supply what memory has not to give. The figure of the lady, robed in black, is graceful and composed; no consciousness of the painter's eye being fixed upon her appears in her sweet, calm, and beautiful

face sad, yet quietly proud, is the expression of her fine, yet somewhat care-touched features. Her eye gazes beyond the scene which other eyes discern; her thoughts are wandering to other times and by-gone scenes, and, it may be, to scenes whose very happiness is sad to think upon, when memory alone remains. Her fair boy stands beside her, in all childhood's bloom and beauty, and seems as if trying to look graver than his wont, because his mother is sad. She clasps his little hand convulsively in hers, as if in all her reveries he formed a part. But we are losing the picture in the beings it pourtrays and is not this the highest praise of art? Is not the acknowledgment of excellence we thus unwittingly yield, of more worth than all the technicalities and criticism in the world? The generality of professed artistical critics would tell us of the mellow colouring, pearly tints, combinations of primary, secondary, and tertiary shades, and heaven knows how much more learned mechanism. But they cannot enjoy a glorious work like ourselves; when, fascinated by its reality, we thus become the slaves of its creator's genius. We shall consider this reality and romance by Vandyck the gem of the exhibition.

Christ contemplating the Cross, said to be by N. Poussin. We have an engraved portrait of that unhappy artist; it is far from amiable in expression, though, being painted by himself, he might have played the flatterer. But we tremble to imagine the terrific frown that would have darkened his "visnomy" could he have seen the unco queer productions which posterity would take his name in vain to dignify. This is a most amusing caricature, and that is all we can say of it.

The Holy Family, bearing the name of Da Vinci, is enough to arouse his wronged spirit in a most unholy rage. And its companions in mendacity on the same wall, attributed to Vandyck, ought to be swept out of the rooms, as rubbish unworthy the presence of better things.

The two large Sea Views, by Vernet, are grand pictures; true to the life, both in colour and effect. The hazy appearance of the distance, with the spectre-like vessels half-seen, half-lost; the rocky shore, and brilliant foreground, combine to render these splendid works most true transcripts of the particular aspect of nature which they represent.

Diana Hunting, by Rubens, in the same room, has all the faults of this painter, and none of his beauties. We greatly doubt both its authenticity and the correctness of the title; at any rate it is a very libellous portrait of the chaste, virgin goddess.

Vandyck's wondrous portrait of himself, in the same room with the above, is alike beautiful as a work of art, and interesting from its evident connection with an important event of his life. The rich and powerful colouring of the fine head, the spirited position, and general expression, rivet the gazer's eye on this superb portrait. A lovely picture of Frances, Countess of Dartmouth, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, clad in the garb of olden times, next engages us;

VOL. V.-NO. XVII.

P