fingers, and as he twists it around upon its
material axis, he may think of the great artificer
of the universe, having the feeling, if not
knowing, the words of the poet:—

'In ambient air this ponderous ball HE hung.'

Contemplative, or not, the colourer steadily
pursues his uniform labour, and the sphere is
at length fully coloured.

The globe has now to be varnished with a
preparation technically known as 'white
hard,' to which some softening matter is
added to prevent the varnish cracking. This
is a secret which globe-makers preserve.
Four coats of varnish complete the work.

And next the ball has to be mounted. We
have already mentioned an instrument by
which the brass meridian ring is accurately
graduated; that is, marked with lines
representing 360 degrees, with corresponding
numerals. Of whatever size the ring is, an
index-hand, connected with the graduating
instrument, shows the exact spot where the
degree is to be marked with a graver. The
operation is comparatively rapid; but for the
largest globes it involves considerable expense.
After great trouble, the ingenious men whose
manufactory we are describing have
succeeded in producing cast-iron rings, with the
degrees and figures perfectly distinct; and
these applied to 36-inch globes, instead of the
engraved meridians, make a difference of ten
guineas in their price. For furniture they
are not so beautiful; for use they are quite
as valuable. There is only one other process
which requires great nicety. The axis of the
globe revolves on the meridian ring, and of
course it is absolutely necessary that the poles
should be exactly parallel. This is effected by
a little machine which drills each extremity
at one and the same instant; and the operation
is termed poleing the meridian.

The mounting of the globe,—the completion
of a pair of globes,—is now handed over to
the cabinet-maker. The cost of the material
and the elaboration of the workmanship
determine the price.

Before we conclude, we would say a few
words as to the limited nature of the demand
for globes.

Our imperfect description of this manufacture
will have shown that experience, and
constant application of ingenuity, have
succeeded in reducing to the lowest amount the
labour employed in the production of globes.
The whole population of English globe-makers
does not exceed thirty or forty men, women,
and boys. Globes are thus produced at the
lowest rate of cheapness, as regards the
number of labourers, and with very moderate
profits to the manufacturer, on account of the
smallness of his returns. The durability of
globes is one great cause of the limitation
of the demand. Changes of fashion, or
caprices of taste, as to the mounting—new
geographical discoveries, and modern information
as to the position and nomenclature of
the stars—may displace a few old globes
annually, which then find their way from
brokers' shops into a class somewhat below
that of their original purchasers. But the
pair of globes generally maintain for years
their original position in the school-room or
the library. They are rarely injured, and
suffer very slight decay. The new purchasers
represent that portion of society which is
seeking after knowledge, or desires to manifest
some pretension to intellectual tastes. The
number of globes annually sold represents to
a certain extent the advance of Education.
But if the labour-saving expedients did not
exist in the manufacture the cost would be
much higher, and the purchasers greatly
reduced in number. The contrivances by which
comparative cheapness is produced arise out
of the necessity of contending against the
durability of the article by encouraging
a new demand. If these did not exist,
the supply would outrun the demand;—the
price of the article would less and less repay
the labour expended in its production; the
manufacture of globes would cease till the old
globes were worn out, and the few rich and
scientific purchasers had again raised up a
market.

            THE GHOST OF THE LATE
                MR. JAMES BARBER.

                  A YARN ASHORE.

'"Luck! " nonsense. There is no such
thing. Life is not a game of chance any more
than chess is. If you lose, you have no one
but yourself to blame.'

This was said by a young lieutenant in the
Royal Navy, to a middle-aged midshipman,
his elder brother.

'Do you mean to say that luck had nothing
to do with Fine Gentleman Bobbin passing for
lieutenant, and my being turned back?' was
the rejoinder.

'Bobbin, though a dandy, is a good seaman,
and—and—.' The speaker looked another
way, and hesitated.

'I am not, you would add—if you had
courage. But I say I am, and a better
seaman than Bobbin.'

'Practically, perhaps, for you are ten years
older in the service. But it was in the theoretical
part of seamanship—which is equally
important—that you broke down before the
examiners,' continued the younger officer,
in tones of earnest but sorrowful reproach.
'You never would study.'

'I'll tell you what it is, master Ferdinand,'
said the elderly middy, not without a show
of displeasure. 'I don't think this is the
correct sort of conversation to be going on
between two brothers after a five years'
separation.'

The young lieutenant laid his hand soothingly
on his brother's arm, and entreated
him to take what he said in good part.

'Well, well!' rejoined the middy, with a