melted metal at the moment when it was
about to become solid, you might have it
caught in a burning trap, or a small
quantity of metal might remain sticking to it
when you drew it out; either of which accidents
would inflict severe pain, and something
worse.

The spheroidal state of water is one of the
principal causes of the fulminating explosions
of steam-boilers. Attentive study of the cause
of these terrible explosions has led to the
invention and execution of a completely new
system of steam generation, which is equally
applicable to the smallest powers, such as
those of half-a-horse, as to boilers on the
largest scale. The small boilers constructed
on this system fill up a gap which hitherto
existed in the arts, by creating a workman-
power, a domestic-power engine; and the
study of matter in the spheroidal state, even
if it had produced no other result than this,
would have fully justified M. Boutigny's
perseverance in the path which he has
determined to pursue. And when we add to the
remarkable phenomena already mentioned,
the  suspension of chemical action and the
fixity of temperature in bodies in the
spheroidal state, the immense scope and
applicability of this new branch of physics
will be at once appreciated. That it has not
been taken up before, is almost a matter of
astonishment; for the leading phenomenon
must have been observed from the highest
antiquity,—from the appearance of man himself
upon the earth. The first attempts of
Tubal Cain to heat a flint, a bit of granite,
or a morsel of ore, on which he let fall a few
drops of water by  accident or design, must
have shown him those drops passing into the
spheroidal state. Nevertheless, there exists
no tradition that the facts were known to
antiquity, unless allusion be supposed to be
made to them by Solomon: "The fire had
power in the water, forgetting his own
virtue: and the water forgat his own
quenching nature." The words, however,
are equally applicable to Greek fire, potassium,
and other highly inflammable substances.
In later times, glass-makers became
acquainted with this property of water,
and applied it to their art in a very
ingenious manner; but, it was not till the
middle of the last century, that the phenomenon
was really observed with scientific
views, and that  nearly simultaneously, by Eller
and by Leidenfrost. Since then, it has been
more overladen with error than illustrated by
close investigation, until M.Boutigny devoted
his attention to it, more or less, every day for
the last twenty years. And now we catch a
glimpse of an immense circle of discovery,
comprising natural philosophy, chemistry,
geology, probably astronomy, perhaps even
universal nature.

For the exploration of this boundless field
for investigation, the life of one man, however
energetic, is insufficient. It will be something
if, two or three generations hence, a
more precise degree of knowledge shall have
been attained.

THE SIX GIANTS OF LEHON.

ONE of the prettiest and most romantic
rivers of France—  the Rance—has been
deprived of many of its natural beauties, by the
modern improvement of canalisation. What
it has gained in usefulness, it has lost in
attraction. It is more serviceable to the
trader, but less interesting to the tourist. A
Rhine in miniature it can boast, like that
celebrated stream, of having steep, rocky
banks, covered in some places with the ruins
of fortresses and castellated dwellings, where
petty tyrants, in their day, were the lords of
land and stream, and had the power, which
they too often exercised, of oppressing their
vassals, and spoliating the peaceful traveller.
To thickly-wooded acclivities and toppling
towers overhanging the Rance, there still
clings many a wild tale, and many a wondrous
legend. Such a legend I picked up one day,
whilst sauntering near the old bridge of the
secluded village of Lehon, which lies at the
bottom of a valley, enclosed with an
amphitheatre of precipitous hills.

As I approached the bridge, I observed
a man sitting straddle-legs on the central
wooden parapet. This man wore the short,
loose, blue blouse of the peasantry. His
lower limbs were encased in light- coloured
cord knee-breeches, and yellow gaiters.
His wide-awake, broad-leafed Breton hat was
cocked upon one side of his head, in a manner
which, as I conceived, was indicative of the
foreigner; and, as I went nearer, and discerned
that between his lips he held a black
pipe, not an inch long, I felt that I might,
despite the place in which he was encountered,
and the habiliments that disguised his nationality,
claim him as a fellow subject.

There was, however, a circumstance calculated
to shake my confidence as to my surmise,
with respect to the particular country
of the blue-bloused peasant, and that was
observing him in friendly conversation with
a white-bearded old man, who was, in face,
figure, and manner, undoubtedly a Frenchman.

Before I reached the bridge, the old man
had passed from his companion, leaving the
latter busily engaged, cutting into the
palm of his left hand thin slivers of tobacco,
and as he did so, consoling himself in his
solitary occupation with the doleful words of
a melancholy ditty addressed to Marie Louisa
upon the death of Napoleon I. Of that ditty,
I could, as I approached, hear the following
words recited:

"She may sigh by the winds on the great Mount Hyana,
While her hero yet sleeps in the isle of Saint Helana."