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558 effectual manner, and, what is more to the purpose, with entire impunity to the match-maker from his old disease. Messrs. Bryant and May have solved the difficulty in their patent safety matches. The peculiarity of these consists in the fact that the match can only be struck by rubbing it on the prepared surface—friction alone not being sufficient. The match is dipped in chlorate of potass (its chief ingredient), mixed with red lead, black oxide of manganese, sulphuret of antimony, and glue; whilst the box, in lieu of sand-paper, is smeared with amorphous phosphorus, sulphuret of antimony, and glue. Thus, without the box the match is worthless. There are certain inconveniences attending this divorce, but the advantages are, on the other hand, very great. The accidents that happen to ordinary lucifer matches, in consequence of their spontaneous combustion in hot weather, is a well-recognised cause of many disastrous conflagrations.

We have ourselves heard the late Mr. Braidwood deplore the immense loss of property brought about by this cause. Again, the very slight amount of friction required to light them is another cause of fires; even mice and rats gnawing wax vestas have been known to fire the match by their teeth touching the phosphorus. Accidents to life are continually taking place through ladies treading accidentally on matches carelessly thrown upon the ground.

Lucifer matches are a well-known cause of fires, both accidental and incendiary, in the agricultural districts. The matches which the boy keeping birds always keeps about him, are often used to fire a stack. The labourer threshing in the barn, or working in the stable, will often pull out a congreve, and by accident let one fall; something crushing it, and a fire happens in a moment. So well are some fire-offices aware of their losses from this cause, that in their policies they insert a clause prohibiting the carrying of lucifer matches by farm-servants. The general use of the new kind of match would at once do away with all fear of accidental fires arising from their use. At all events, Dr. Bristowe acknowledges that the only effectual method of preventing the deplorable disease under which the match-maker now suffers is the prohibition of the use of common phosphorus altogether, and we think that, if the legislature does not adopt this precaution, society should; as it is nothing less than criminal to persist in the use of an article which causes such misery, when a perfectly harmless method of manufacture is in full operation, without causing the slightest derangement of health to the workers in it. A. W.

is a short walk from Bremm to Cochem across the crest of the hill. By following a stream before we arrive at Eller, up a glen, the way may be made still shorter, as it is unnecessary to follow the zigzags of the carriage-road, which resemble those over a Swiss pass. The road leads down to a little village on the river, about half-a-mile from Cochem, shortly after leaving which a view of remarkable beauty discloses itself. The town and castle of Cochem are seen in the foreground, dark against the dazzling evening sun; beyond them in misty distance the glen, where stands on a more lofty height the Castle of Winneberg, and height behind height beyond. On the right bank of the river is a bright-green level, covered with trees, through which peer the church-tower and houses of Cond. The writer in “Murray’s Guide Book,” whose displeasure was excited by the Valley of Elz, has again fallen foul of Cochem as being one of those places which look very well at a distance, but are very dirty on close acquaintance. Here he is scarcely just. Cochem is decidedly cleaner than most picturesque places; and picturesque places are hardly ever clean except in Holland. But it is to be feared he is an insatiably fastidious gentleman, who would even wash Murillo’s beggar-boys. Places full of quaint gables, and tumble-down turrets, and old arches, and bits of embattled walls, and wondrously lofty narrow streets, must be what is commonly called dirty, as every painter knows who attempts to sketch them in the midst of a swarm of urchins. It would be impossible to have the rich Prout browns consistently with baths and wash-houses. And yet I saw a scene which brought to mind the Odyssean Nausicaa and her maids of honour engaged in washing the linen of the royal household of Alcinous; for early in the morning the whole female population of Cochem seemed to have turned out to get up their linen at the mouth of the brook which runs into the Moselle, unconsciously composing an excellent picture. Cochem is a place which well rewards a stay of three or four days, as it may be made the centre of many interesting excursions, besides being in itself full of antiquities, as well as the liveliest port on the Moselle. It is, perhaps, not generally known that it owns a little steamer, which leaves early in the morning for Coblentz, and returns in the afternoon, at lower fares than those charged on the steamers which are usually advertised.

Near the place where the Enderbach (Rivus Andrida) flows into the Moselle, there is a fine old gateway and tower, with a house built on to it, forming a most grotesque object on both sides; behind this a winding way leads up to the former Capuchin convent, now used as a school. Here lived the famous literary character, Father Martin, of Cochem, who usually signed his name “P. Martinus, a useless Capuchin.” He died near Bruchsal, in 1712, leaving several works, which are still read in the Eifel country—amongst others his “Great Life of Christ,” containing a description of Hell, which for detail may vie with Dante’s. Higher up we come to the ruins of the castle, of which some towers of enormous strength still remain. In the fosse is seen a grand old walnut-tree. The town is mentioned as early as A.D. 876, in a record of the Abbot of Prüm Ansbald. In the tenth century the Counts Palatine of Aix held Cochem in fee to the Empire. The abbeys and cloisters here and in the neighbourhood were richly endowed by the exiled Polish Queen Richezza, or Richenza, daughter of the Count Palatine Ehrenfried, and Matilda, niece of Otto III. She died in 1060, and was buried in the