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. 29, 1860.] ascertained that the maximum of magnetic intensity corresponds with the minimum of inclination; and that for both the period of oscillation is 11 days, which is precisely the shorter period assigned by Wolff to the solar spots.

To express these results in less technical language, when the luminous atmosphere of the sun is more equally diffused, indicating the highest energy of that constitutive force pervading, vitalising, and perchance evolving it; then, through the tremulous medium of the intervening ether, the earth thrills responsively with intenser life. This epoch of exceptional magnetic intensity is that specially signalised by auroras, more or less vivid, by atmospheric perturbations, and occasionally by volcanic convulsions.

The remarkable auroras of last autumn have been succeeded by anomalous and unkindly seasons, ominous of coming sorrow, which, if not within the power of man to prevent, he might have been prepared to alleviate, or courageously endure, had he been better able or more willing to “discern the face of the sky,” if not from love of abstract science, from the lower consideration of his material comfort.

Whatever the wilful ignorance of man, since he is rarely entirely deprived of divine guidance, or unillumined by transient gleams of light—obscured and diffracted though it be by the medium through which it is transmitted—might not the vague alarm of antiquity represent a dim and confused apprehension that auroras were symbols of the variable activity of a central force, with the fluctuations in which the condition of the earth, as the abode of human life, was connected?

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the native artist has faithfully pourtrayed horse-breaking in Japan in the accompanying sketch, the early training of those Nipon steeds must partake considerably of our English ideas of human education in the last century, the fortiter in re prevailing considerably over the suaviter in modo. And the system appears in both cases to have been successful in producing hard-mouthed steeds, and obstinate old parties; we in England suffer from the latter, the traveller in the land of the Day Dawn has to encounter the former.

Our steeds, though spoilt in the mouth, are in other respects nice little animals, compactly built, hardy, and exhibiting considerable care in breeding, grooming, and stabling. But their appearance is most extraordinary. Two stood before us—one equipped purely à la Japonnaise, which I will first describe; for in the wilder parts of Japan, as well as amongst native travellers who have great distances to go, this is still the usual mode of conveyance, although not considered as honourable as being carried by porters in close boxes called “norimas” and “cangos.” The horse has reins of common blue cotton material, fitted to rather a cruel bit; the reins are split, and hang down on either side for men to lead it by. The animal’s shoes are of straw, plaited—a sort of sandal tied with strings round the lower part of the fetlock; the saddle consists of a simple wooden tree, fastened over a cloth; the saddle-tree has crupper and breast-straps, both highly necessary in so hilly a country. From either side of the saddle-tree hang down two leather flaps. Our servants rush at the poor steed, carrying two huge lacquered boxes, each half as long as the animal; they strap the boxes together in such a way that they hang suspended over the saddle against the flanks of the horse, the two leather flaps before mentioned serving to prevent them rubbing through its ribs. Another trunk is now brought, and placed across the saddle-tree, and partially secured to it. The traveller’s sleeping mat and padded quilt are now spread over all, and tied here and there to boxes, flaps, and saddle-tree. Poor Rozinante looks very like the hobby-horse of an ancient “mysterie”—merely a head, tail, and a deal of drapery. The traveller now mounts, going up, as Mr. Rarey has at last discovered to be the proper way, straight over the shoulder. Our Japanese attendant, however, in doing so, looks much more like an old lady getting up into a four-post bed, than to an Alexander mounting a Bucephalus. Balancing himself carefully on the top of the pile of boxes, and placing his legs where he can find room, our friend now commences to stow away in sundry holes and corners, or to tie to divers strings, an appalling number of articles: yet they are all necessary. First comes the lanthorn; it hangs prominently to the bows, so to speak, of this animated ship. On it our arms or crest have been duly emblazoned. By night there must be a light in it; and whether by night or by day, it announces our rank and dignity to the authorities, police, or fellow-travellers. Then there is a string of the copper coin of the country, far too cumbrous for the pocket; a clothes brush and fly-flap; a paper waterproof coat; a broad-brimmed tile for heavy rain or strong sunlight; and, lastly, a bundle of spare straw shoes for the horse. Thus equipped, with two men to lead, and two more on either side to assist him in preserving his balance, our Japanese friend signs that he is ready. We therefore approach the other animal, which at a short distance looks as if it was just ready to take part in a deadly tilt in Front-de-Bœuf’s castle. Our horse looks warlike enough, but what shall I say of the one of a Japanese noble just arrived? It is indeed a gorgeous creature; its headstall richly ornamented with beautiful specimens of Japanese skill and taste in casting, chasing, and inlaying in copper and bronze, the leather perfectly covered with these ornaments. The frontlet had a golden or gilt horn projecting. The mane was carefully plaited, and worked in with gold and silver as well as silken threads. The saddle, which was a Japanese imitation in leather, lacquer, and inlaid bronze, of those in use amongst the Portuguese and Spaniards in the days of Albuquerque, was a perfect work of art, and only excelled in workmanship, weight, and value by the huge stirrups. The reins were of silk; a rich scarlet net of the same material hung over the animal’s shoulders and crupper. The saddle-cloth was a leopard’s skin; and, lastly, as a perfect finish, the long