of plain, beyond which glistened, like a lake under his beams, volumes of cloud spread like an ocean on every side. Ever-changing, it gathered in mountain heaps, richly shaded for a brief interval until the sun was closed from view, when neutral-tinted gloom took possession of the field. The earth was again visible through breaks, and the creeping morning mists were still resting upon its surface. Daylight | was gathering strength, and again the clouds closed over in dense and rugged volumes, deeply shadowed and intersected with deep ravines. On the utmost verge of a deep valley, the sun rose again, this time flooding the atmosphere with a sea of brilliant light. Mountains of cloud sunk as we rose to view them, bathed in a golden glow. Clouds swept boldly over, casting their shadow upon lake and mountain scene, and added by force of contrast to the brilliant tints below. The cold was intense. Looking to the east, the moon was calmly visible, pale and suspended over distant peaks of clouds, rising apparently from seas of cotton.

We had risen to a height of three miles; our boots were sheathed with ice. Sound was sharp and clear, and divided the keen moist air with a ringing echo. Stratus below, cirrus above; a sea of clouds around, 1000 feet in depth, and underneath, the surface of the earth, without a ray of sun, murky and dim. The scene around possessed elements of grandeur which bore no relation to the sun-rise of earth. Grouped around the car, above and below our level, were summits of Alpine cloud, sloping to their base in glistening plains of light, or towering upward from sheets of stratus which descended to earth, or the more simple form of mist and haze, which still clouded the atmosphere below. High overhead floated the cirrus in the deepening azure of the morning light. Thus we were conscious of height and distance, in the position of the clouds, their structure, and the true bulk which they attain. Light and colour helped us to explore their territory; and in the kingdom of illusive forms we realised the finest applications of the principles of colour and the force of contrasted shadow. Colour has always seemed to me a distinctive beauty in a field of vapour. Clothed in hues of neutral grey, the clouds are tinged with the

prevailing blue of the atmosphere. Immersed in a transparent medium, they receive upon their surface remote modifications of the reflected glories of sunrise and sunset. Without traces of local colouring, a field of cloud looked down upon from above is diversified with hues allied to the tertiary divisions of the chromatic scale. In one glance I have seen olive, russet, and citrine, together deepening into grey or blueish shadows. Should the sun be setting, it gilds the brown, pale shadows of the topmost clouds, and will show probably wreaths of newlyforming vapour, ready to descend, and crown the topmost summit of Alpine peaks, which rear themselves from a mass of dense shapeless shadows in the grey obscurity of formless clouds. I am speaking now as an observer among the clouds, where the line of the horizon is the circumference of a circle, of which the balloon itself marks the centre.

With reference to the numerous details of landscape, the clouds, regarded from the surface of the earth, have a subordinate relation. But as a leading element of beauty in all compositions, they are readily to be recognised, whether applying to the actual scene in nature, or to its representation. In point of colouring, their value may be estimated according to the importance of the tertiary degrees of the chromatic scale. These triple tints assist in contrast, and, when neglected, induce monotony, Compounded of pure colour, they are the base upon which must rest its most brilliant effects, and are a natural medium through which near objects fade into the remoteness of the horizon. Blended and diffused by atmospheric action into neutral and indistinguishable hues below the clouds, these milder harmonies cast into strong relief the bolder features of the landscape, and, in a pictorial sense, complete the natural range of colour belonging to earth and atmosphere.

In these remarks, I wish to emphasise the fact, that cloud effects seen from the earth, however beautiful they may be, are but representations upon a plain surface of the actual scenery above; and that, to advance our knowledge of cloud formation, the further study of the visible vapour of the air must be proceeded with among the clouds. In no other way shall we obtain unprejudiced results.

JAMES GLAISHER.

But while the difference between sanity and in

sanity is theoretically defined by our lawyers with the utmost strictness, it may not be amiss to ask whether there is not another power-and that one of unqualified evil-which exists among us, and which, while it carries with it not one trace of insanity, is yet equally dangerous and far removed from the natural condition of the human mind. By it men are driven to the commission of the most wicked actions, without either the slightest apparent reason or provocation, and even while they are at the same time fully alive to their moral duties. Nay, it even occasionally goes so far as to make them abhor the very crime they are committing, appearing indeed to place them in the position of demoniacs.

Eminent writers, both theological and scientific, have attempted to prove that the demoniacs of Scripture times were simply persons who laboured under phases of insanity, or suffered from some hallucination. The Old and New Testaments in many parts, however, appear to directly contradict this supposition, and the twenty-fourth verse of the fourth chapter of St. Matthew may especially be quoted. Here it is written, "Even those who were possessed with demons, and those who were lunatic, and those who had the palsy." Here a distinct line of separation seems to be drawn between the demoniac and the madman. True, many theologians and among them Hugh Farmer, who wrote on the demoniacs of the New Testament, about the middle of the last century-seem to hold that paralysis, and more especially epilepsy, were included in the term "demoniacal possession." But such could hardly have been the case, since no evil tendency seems to be connected with paralysis, while in the attacks of epilepsy, the mind of the patient is so totally prostrated, that he is incapable of entertaining any wicked idea or action. We have, therefore, every reason to believe, that the Scriptures in no way intended to include these diseases under the head of demoniacal possession.

A marked difference may be discerned between the demoniac and the lunatic. A madman never acknowledges himself to be insane; the supposed demoniac, on the contrary, while firmly insisting that he is in his right senses, fully believes himself to have been impelled to the commission of his crime by the influence of some power he was unable to withstand. Nothing is more common than to find in our prisons persons labouring under this conviction. Mrs. Meredith, the Honorary Secretary of the Female Branch of the Prisoners' Aid Society-a lady who has had great experience among our female convicts, having been appointed by government to visit the women confined in the Brixton Prison-assures me that it is very common to find among them, those who readily admit the crime for which they have been incarcerated, as well as the enormity of their sin. Such persons will allow that they were fully convinced of its wickedness at the time of its perpetration; and yet they will insist that they had not at the moment

the power to control themselves. During their imprisonment, they will even frequently burst out into uncontrollable fits of violence without the least provocation, and at the same time use the most blasphemous language. When, however, the attack is over, they calmly admit they were fully aware of their outrageous and causeless behaviour, and insist that they were impelled to it by the Devil. Many of them, indeed, are perfectly well aware when an attack is impending, and will frequently tell the warders in their own phraseology, that "they are sorry to say they feel a 'break out' is coming on."

Another extraordinary feature in these attacks is the almost supernatural strength which the women seem for the time being to possess. Mrs. Skyring, a lady of unimpeachable veracity, who was for many years the lady visitor to the female convicts in the Millbank Prison, informs me, that she has frequently seen three or four powerful men severely taxed, in taking one female prisoner of no great muscular power to her cell, and that their exertions were such, that the perspiration poured off their faces. When she visited the prison, one morning, some years since, she found that a woman, who was subject to such attacks, had the night before, in a paroxysm of unprovoked fury, broken her iron bedstead into pieces. "How is it possible?" said Mrs. Skyring to her, "that you could have had the strength to do it?" "Oh, ma'am !" was the woman's reply, "I did it easily then, but I couldn't do it now, or anything like it. When the Devil is in me, I could break up one twice as strong as that is." A woman of the name of Kearns, whose case is mentioned in the "Memoirs of a Prison Matron," and whom I afterwards saw in the Convict Lunatic Asylum, at Fisherton, near Salisbury, was another instance of the super-human power possessed by women during attacks of this kind. When in Millbank Prison, she would tear the iron bars from the fastenings in the stone steps to use them as weapons of defence; and when confined for punishment in the dark cell, she would tear up the flooring with her hands. At Fisherton, where, by the way, not the slightest insanity (according to the legal definition of the term) could be detected in her, it required the united strength of three powerful male warders to hold her. She, too, was perfectly well aware of the approach of the attack, and when not under the paroxysm, was generally a quiet well-conducted person. Lately, a woman, subject to a similar infirmity, was sent by the authorities from one of our prisons to Fisherton, as a lunatic, but notwithstanding all the skill and experience of the medical officers of the asylum, not a single trace of insanity could be detected in her, and she was sent back to the prison she had come from.

Among male prisoners the uncontrollable spirit of evil is equally developed, although it generally shows itself in a different way. Fits of passion are less frequent among them, while hardened

wickedness is perhaps more common. Between the paroxysms of fury, females will conduct themselves in an orderly and respectable manner, but with similar cases in male prisoners, the warders are never certain.

But it is rather in our Criminal Lunatic Asylums that cases assuming the form of demoniacal possession, generally manifest themselves in acts which set at defiance all legal definitions of insanity. A case of the kind came under my own notice some few years since in the Convict Lunatic Asylum at Fisherton. A prisoner who had been tried for an attempt to murder, was convicted, and sentenced to penal servitude for life. While undergoing the probationary term of solitary confinement, he had shown some symptoms of insanity (whether real or assumed it would be impossible to say, for sometimes prisoners feign it with great skill), and had in consequence been sent to the Asylum. Here he had been placed in a ward in which some score of the most dangerous patients in the establishment were confined. At the Fisherton Asylum, neither handcuffs, strait-waistcoats, nor lock-up cells are used to restrain the patients-discipline being main- | tained amongst them solely by a very efficient and powerful staff of warders, who are generally chosen from pensioners of the Army or Navy, and are always men of good character. One morning when this class of patients was in the airing-ground-a space surrounded by high walls and not more than a quarter of an acre in extent-the prisoner alluded to, for some real or imaginary provocation, made an attack upon another patient. One of the warders on duty (a remarkably powerful and good-tempered man, and a great favourite with all) interfered to preserve order, and succeeded in separating the disputants, sorely to the annoyance of the aggressor, who threatened to be avenged on the warder for his interference. Some weeks passed over without the fellow taking any notice of what had happened beyond occasionally scowling sullenly at the warder, which he treated with perfect indifference. One morning, however, when the warder entered the yard, the prisoner suddenly sprang upon him, and with some weapon, which he held in his hand, attempted to stab him in the throat. So well had the blow been aimed, that it would certainly have severed the carotid artery, had not the warder suddenly jumped aside; as it was, he received a deep wound in the shoulder. He immediately seized the prisoner and threw him on the ground, when the other warders came to his assistance. The man was secured, and the weapon he had used -a sharp piece of iron fixed firmly in a wooden handle with some string-was taken from him.

Now this was a case which, according to the law, exhibited no symptom of insanity. A trifling provocation had been received, which the prisoner had determined to avenge. By some means he procured (or more probably found) a small piece of an iron hoop, which, unobserved, he had ground to the sharpness of a razor. He then obtained two

pieces of wood, which, most probably by means of the piece of iron already in his possession, he fashioned into the shape of a handle. He then managed to get a piece of string, with which he neatly fastened the two pieces of wood together with the iron between. How he contrived to do all this, incessantly watched as he was, it is difficult to imagine. He possibly fixed the iron in the handle when in bed, with his hands beneath the clothes, and when the warder was asleep, for one officer remained in the ward all night, his bed being enclosed by a strong iron cage into which he locked himself, that he might not be murdered in his sleep, but which he could leave at a moment's notice to quell any disturbance that might arise.

Another singular feature which appears generally to distinguish this particular tendency of the mind from insanity is, that the individual, although perfectly well aware of the crime he is about to commit and the consequences which may attend it, has neither pleasure nor satisfaction in its perpetration; and the victim is generally one who has given him no cause of offence whatever. On the contrary, indeed, he is often one to whom he is tenderly attached. The only thing which the lunatic and the supposed demoniac appear to have in common, is that neither seems to repent of the fault he has committed, though the latter will frequently regret the sorrow he has caused to others by his crime. For the victim himself he has none whatever.

A singular difference exists also in the means of curing the two classes. Over the lunatic religion appears to have no power, beyond a certain sort of sedative influence; while with the other its power is not unfrequently very great. On conversing some years ago on the subject of demoniacal possession with an eminent minister of religion, he told me that he fully believed in the possibility of this disease, and of the power of religion over it, for he had experienced its effects in his own person. He had a daughter, who was then grown up, to whom, when a child of about ten years of age, he had an extraordinary affection. Every action of her life was a source of intense interest to him, and one of his greatest pleasures was to instruct her and develope her mind himself. Without his love suffering the slightest abatement a terrible desire to destroy her came upon him. The feeling gave him great horror, and he attempted to overcome it

but in vain. In despair he applied to an eminent physician for advice, and candidly told him the whole history of the case. The physician prescribed change of air, amusement, and separation from the child. The minister followed the advice, and the terrible desire appeared to leave him, but, on again meeting with his daughter, it came over him in full force. He now determined to try the effect of earnest and continual prayer. The attacks became far weaker and with longer intervals between them. On each successive return of the temptation—no matter how slight-he immediately offered up a

prayer, and the thought left him. He continued this system, till at last he completely conquered the desire, and it never returned to him.

The following case will also show the power of prayer in repelling attacks of the kind. A married lady, about five-and-thirty years of age, who was the mother of several children, and lived on terms of great affection with her husband and family, was noticed to become sullen and abstracted in her behaviour, without any apparent cause. For some time she struggled silently against the feeling, but it increased in intensity till at last it developed itself into acts of great harshness and even cruelty to the children, and of aversion towards her husband. Her behaviour caused much alarm and grief to her family and friends, and she was narrowly watched; yet nothing could be discovered indicative of insanity. A change also came over her religious ideas. She had been a regular and attentive attendant at a place of worship, but she suddenly ceased to go at all; nor could any arguments induce her to alter her conduct. The attack continued to increase, although she appeared occasionally to struggle energetically against it, and in these intervals she would be exceedingly kind to her children, though it was easy to detect that her affection was rather assumed than real. At last she confided to a female relation, that her mind had lately undergone a complete change, for which she could not account. She told her she had taken the strongest dislike to her husband, (whose behaviour to her had always been of the most affectionate description,) and a horrible wish continually came over her to attack her children, to whom she had hitherto been a most exemplary mother. This friend, naturally dreading the consequences which might arise from such an abnormal condition of the mind, informed the lady's husband, who immedistely applied for advice to a physician of great experience in diseases of the mind. He ordered that she should be instantly separated from her family, and placed where she could have plenty of amusement, besides change of air and scene. The husband determined to act on the suggestion, and a female friend of the family, residing at Brighton, readily agreed to take charge of the unfortunate | lady till a change for the better should take place.

For several weeks after her arrival at Brighton, she did not exhibit the same animosity towards her husband and family, but her mind in regard to religious subjects evidently became worse. She refused to join the family at prayers, nothing could induce her to enter a place of worship, and she would frequently burst out into the most blasphemous expressions against the Deity himself. Her husband now became dreadfully alarmed, and requested the minister of his chapel, au eminent Nonconformist divine, for whom his wife had a great respect, to try if it were not possible to bring her to a better frame of mind. His request was willingly acceded to, and the minister left London for Brighton. To his great regret the lady received

him coldly and sternly. She told him she had no desire to see him or any of his profession, and requested him to leave the house. He attempted to soothe her, and, assisted by the lady of the house, with great tact drew her into conversation on indifferent subjects. Having thus attracted her attention, he suddenly proposed that she and the lady of the house should join him in prayer. She made no objection, though it was evident she felt no pleasure in the proposition, and the three kneeled down at the table, the lady being opposite to the minister, who, covering his face with his hands, commenced a long and earnest prayer. After some time had elapsed, he thought he felt occasionally a slight movement of the table, but he took no notice, and without removing his hands continued praying. Presently his attention was attracted by the sound of a strong sobbing on the part of the lady, who shortly afterwards burst into a violent flood of tears. The minister ceased praying, and with the help of the lady's friend, succeeded in consoling her to a considerable extent. In the evening he again offered up prayer, and this time the lady joined with evident willingness. He visited her afterwards several times, and a gradual but perceptible change for the better took place. She resumed her religious duties, and shortly afterwards returned to her husband, perfectly restored in mind, and became the same pious and affectionate wife and mother she had been before her illness, which never again returned.

I may here quote another case which came under my own observation, in which a totally different system was adopted. A young widow-lady of good character, but without any particularly pious tendency, and of a somewhat gay disposition, suddenly conceived a strong aversion to her two children, whom she had hitherto treated with great kindness. Her friends noticing her altered behaviour, and dreading the results, proposed, under medical advice, that she should be separated from her children, to try the effect of change of scene and amusement. The plan was adopted, and the children were placed under the care of a respectable woman in London. The mother, meanwhile, went to Paris, where she resided at a respectable Boarding House. During her stay she entered into every kind of amusement and gaiety, and gradually her aversion to her chil dren left her, and after a residence of some months in the French capital, she returned to London. It was judged best, however, that the children should not reside with her, but continue under the care of the person in whose charge they had hitherto been. To this she made no objection, but visited them frequently; always showing the greatest affection for them. One morning the woman in whose charge they were, received a note from the mother, requesting she would call on her without delay as she had something she wished particularly to communicate to her. The woman imminediately left home to call on the lady, but on her arrival at the house, was informed by the servant that her mistress had been