having united in this place, and ascended towards the throat, they formed the cavity of the mouth, which terminated in two small lips, adapted to the performance of their respective functions. A small moveable tongue was inclosed within this cavity, which admitted or intercepted the passage of the air into the flute, according to the tune that was executed, or the quantity of wind that was requisite for the performance. A particular species of steel cylinder, which was turned by means of clock-work, afforded the proper movements to the fingers, lips, and tongue. This cylinder was divided into fifteen equal parts, which caused the ascension of the other extremities, by the aid of pegs, which pressed upon the ends of fifteen different levers. The fingers of the automaton were directed in their movements by seven of these levers, which had wires and chains attached to their ascending extremities; these being fixed to the fingers, caused their ascension in due proportion to the declension of the other extremity, by the motion of the cylinder; and thus, on the contrary, the ascent, or descent, of one end of the lever, produced a similar ascent, or descent, in the fingers that corresponded to the others; by which one of the holes was opened or stopped agreeably to the direction of the music. The entrance of the wind was managed by three of the other levers, which were so organized as to be capable of opening or shutting, by means of the three reservoirs. By a similar mechanical process, the lips were under the direction of four levers: one of which opened them in order to give the air a freer passage; the other contracted them; the third drew them back; and the fourth pushed them in a forward direction. The lips were placed on that part of the flute, which receives the air; and, by the different motions which have been already enumerated, regulated the tune in the requisite manner for execution. The direction of the tongue furnished employment for the remaining lever, which it moved in order that it might be enabled to shut or open the mouth of the flute.

The extremity of the axis of the cylinder was terminated on the right side by an endless screw, consisting of twelve threads, each of which was placed at the distance of a line and a half from the other. A piece of copper was fixed above this screw; and within it was a steel pivot, which was inserted between the threads of the screw, and obliged the cylinder above mentioned to pursue the threads. Thus, instead of moving in a direct turn, it was perpetually pushed to one side; the successive elevation of the levers displaying all the different movements of a professed

musician.

M. Vaucanson constructed another celebrated Androides, which played on the Provençal shepherd's pipe, and beat, at the same time, on an instrument called the tambour de basque. This

was also a machine of the first order, for ingenious and difficult contrivance. The shepherd bore the flageolet in his left hand, and in the right a stick, with which he beat the tabor, or tambourine, in accompaniment. He was capable of playing about twenty different airs, consisting of minuets, rigadoons, and country dances. The pipe, or flageolet, which he was made to play, is a wind instrument, of great variety, rapidity, and power of execution, when the notes are well filled and properly articulated by the tongue; but it consists only of three holes, and the execution, therefore, mainly depends upon the manner in which they are covered, and the due variation of the force of the wind that reaches them.

To give the Androides power to sound the highest note, M. Vaucanson found it necessary to load the bellows, which supplied the air to this tone, with fifty-six pounds weight, while that of one ounce supplied the lowest tone. Nor was the same note always to be executed by exactly the same force of air; it was necessary to pay the most accurate attention to its place on the scale, and to so many difficult circumstances of combination and expression, that the inventor declares himself to have been frequently on the point of relinquishing his attempt in its progress. In the tambourine accompaniment too, there were numerous obstacles to overcome; the variation of the strokes, and particularly the continued roll of this instrument, was found to require no small ingenuity of construction.

All other exhibitions of mechanical skill, in imitation of the powers of human nature, were destined, however, to give way, in 1769, to the pretensions of the Chess-Player of M. Wolffgang de Kempelin, a Hungarian gentleman, and Aulic Counsellor of the Royal Chamber of the domains of the Emperor in Hungary. Called in that year to Vienna by the duties of his station, this gentleman was present at some experiments on magnetism made before the Empress Maria Theresa, when he ventured to hint, that he could construct, for her Majesty, a piece of mechanism far superior to any of those which had been exhibited. His manner of remarking this excited the attention of the Empress, who encouraging him to make the effort, the Automaton ChessPlayer, which has since been exhibited in all the capitals of Europe, was, within six months after this period, presented at the Imperial court. It is a presumption in favour of the pretensions of this contrivance to be a master-piece of mere mechanism, that the original artist, after having gratified his exalted patroness and her court with the exhibition of it, appeared for many years indifferent to its fame. He engaged himself in other mechanical pursuits with equal ardour, and is said to have so far neglected this, as to have taken it partly to pieces, for the purpose of making other experiments. But the visit of the Russian

Grand Duke Paul to the court of Joseph II. again called our automaton to life. It was repaired and put in order in a few weeks; and, from this period, (1785) has been exhibited, at intervals, throughout Germany, at Paris, and in London; first by M. de Kempelin, and latterly by a purchaser of the property from his son; De Kempelin having died in 1803.

Our chess-playing readers will be able to appreciate the bold pretensions of this automaton. The entire number of combinations, which it is possible to form with the pieces of a chess-board, has never, we believe, been ascertained. To push forward a plan of our own steadily, and at the same time to anticipate the designs of an antagonist, requires a constant and acute discrimination, which long experience, and some considerable strength of memory, have been required to make availing, in all other cases. But this cunning infidel (for he assumes the figure of a Turk) drives kings, and castles, and knights before him with more than mortal sagacity, and with his inferior hand: he never, we believe, has been beaten; and, except in a very few instances of drawn games, has beat the most skilful chess-players in Europe. Dr. Hutton, on the supposition of its being altogether a mechanical contrivance, calls it "the greatest master-piece of mechanics that ever appeared in the world." We shall recount his pretensions in the words of an Oxford graduate, who published" Observations" on them, during his last visit in London, and subjoin a statement of the best attempts that have been made to account for his apparent skill, in a second article upon this interesting subject.

ON HUMOur.

EVERY age has a style of humour peculiar to itself, and is, in general, little able to taste or appreciate that of another. One cause of this may be, that it is more the province of humour to paint the manners than the passions of mankind; and, from the subject not being permanent, the best-wrought piece must fall into disrepute.

This may go some way towards elucidating the fact, which I am endeavouring to explain; but, though perhaps in the right road, we are not yet arrived at the object of our search. For one age is often indifferent to the humour of another, even where that humour has been exercised on subjects, which, if they do not deserve permanent praise, seem at least to merit the applause of one century as much as that of another.

We must, therefore, I believe, search for the main cause in the character of the age itself. I should say that of the present consists (to make a word for the occasion) in a certain matter-of-fact

ness, a necessity of "touching something real," and the incapability of enjoying fun, by itself fun. Hence it admires no description of pleasantry that has not a pointed moral or sting; and seems to have less sense of humour, which may be termed the raw material, than of wit, which may be likened to the manufactured article; a preference which sorts well with the mechanical temper of the times. I suppose, for instance, that there are few at present who would like the excellent fooling, which rejoiced the marrow of Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, when the clown spake of the Vapians passing the Equinoctial of Queubus. Hence it follows, that such works as those of Count Antoine Hamilton, which delighted people of the 18th century, appear to those of the 19th (as a friend of mine once observed to me) "such stuff as might be collected from the walls by the white-washer of Bedlam." But this species of humour is not more thrown away on the present generation, than that natural and spontaneous vein, which amuses by a perpetual play of fancy, without forcing the images which it conjures up upon the sight, or shewing the texture, colour, and direction, of every puppet, which it puts in motion. Hence, (to express myself like a Scotch lawyer) the writings of Addison and Steele are gone into desuetude, and the Spectator is almost a dead letter. To this sort of tacit sentence I cannot, for myself, subscribe: I prefer the ancient wits to the modern, and see nothing superior in the latter, except their precision and the emphatic mode in which they inculcate their ideas. Their pleasantry is certainly more pointed and more palpable than that of their predecessors; but why is this so? It is because their beat is narrower, and it is therefore more easy for them to run down their prey. For, observe the manœuvres of a modern wit, and you will find that his art lies in some single trick of pleasantry, upon which he works with as much earnestness as if he were labouring a point of law. His humour lies in the juxtaposition of incongruous images, in whimsical alliteration and association, or, in short, in some one trick which is, in my eyes, worthless as soon as it is discovered. The old school did not reject such means; but their motto was "Wit at several weapons;" and their tricks of fence so various, that it was difficult to parry or detect them. They "gave point" as well as the moderns, but the readers of the present day seem to be too much dazzled by their feints and their flourishes to estimate the sharpness of their thrusts.-To instance what I mean, I should cite Rabelais, who seems to have entirely fallen in public estimation, and is a writer now seldom quoted but for his extravagance; yet what a vein of moral epigram and satire runs under this, while half of those, who gaze upon his rapid and whirling current, are unable to discern the precious stones, which pave the channel. I remember once passing some days, during the time of the Continental blockade, and consequent fall of Colonial produce, in the

house of a West Indian gentleman, as distinguished for the variety of his accomplishments, as the brilliancy of his hospitality, who surprising me with Rabelais in my hand, and quarrell ng with me for the perverseness of my taste, I defied him not to laugh at a passage which I was then reading, but which he pronounced to be absolute nonsense. This was the assignment made by Pantagruel to Panurge of the rents of the perriwinkles and cockle-shells; upon which he observes, that in a good shell-year this revenue was considerable, but that Panurge was a fellow to live as if perriwinkles were always at par." And this you think humorous ?" said my friend; "now to me it appears absolute stuff." "Nay,” replied I, delighted to have him upon the hip, "you are the last man who has a right to say so; for substitute sugar-hogsheads for perriwinkles, and what have you done but play Panurge ever since you came to your estate ?"

THE HUMOROUS MAN.

THERE is, I believe, no cause of offence so disproportionately punished as the trick of singularity. Let the Humorous Man, as he was termed in the old comedy, confine his caprices within the safest limits, he is generally considered dangerous, and is almost always unpopular. Yet, in opposition to this general antipathy, it may be maintained with truth, that no grave vices are necessarily incidental to such a character, that it guarantees the absence of some hateful qualities, and is a security even for some useful virtues.

For, first, the humorist is usually free from malignant qualities. He has a safety-valve for his worst passions; and, like Shakspeare's Menenius Agrippa," what he thinks, he utters, and spends his malice in his breath."

But I am, I confess, more disposed to prove the virtues than the innocence of the humorist. To the point: he is certainly, generally speaking, independent in his opinions, and thus may be, by no far-strained construction, considered as a useful subject and natural supporter of civil liberty. A very acute and distinguished French statesman at least proves the converse of the proposition where he observes, that no one is so cut out for a courtier as a man "sans honneur et sans humeur;" observing that it is a mistake to translate the last word by ill-humour, the expression meaning, in older French, what is properly explained through synonyms in the Dictionnaire de l'Academie as fantaisie, caprice. If the humorous man then is to be considered as of some utility in society, why is he in such bad odour with those among the serious, who do not come under the definition of solemn asses? Or why (and this seems the most inexplicable difficulty) if he be free from rancorous passions, does he so generally offend, while the interested or malicious man ordinarily makes few enemies in comparison? Why these different characters should produce such different and unde