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of 4038 feet was 32 degrees; the temperature of the atmosphere (and probably that of the water at the surface of the sea) being at the same time at 594 degrees.

This is likewise attested by the difference subsisting between the temperature of the sea at the surface and at great depth, at the tropic, though the temperature of the atmosphere there is so constant, that the greatest annual changes seldom exceed five or six degrees; yet the difference between the heat of the water at the surface of the sea, and that of the depth of 3600 feet is not less than 31 degrees; the temperature at the surface being 84 degrees, and at the given depth below no more than 53 degrees.

For the Literary Magazine.

THE IRON MASK.

THERE are few readers who have not heard of the man in the iron mask, and who have not felt their curiosity deeply interested in the solution of that famous mystery. The best account of this extraordinary personage has been published by Soulavie, in his memoirs of Richelieu. The solution he gives is worthy, in its importance and dignity, of the mystery to which it relates.

According to this historian, the following authentic paper was written by the governor of this prisoner, a short time before his death:

The unfortunate prince whom I have brought up, and taken care of till the close of my life, was born September 5th, 1638, at half past eight. His brother, the present sovereign, Louis XIV, was born in the morning of the same day, about twelve o'clock. But the births of these princes presented a striking contrast, for the eldest's was as splendid and brilliant as the youngest's was melancholy and private.

The king, soon after the queen was safely delivered of the first

VOL. III. NO. XXI.

prince, was informed, by the midwife, that her majesty was still in labour. This intelligence alarmed him greatly, and he ordered the chancellor of France, the first almoner, the queen's confessor, and myself to remain in her apartment till she was delivered, as he wished us to be witnesses of the steps which he meant to take, if she gave birth to another dauphin; for it had been foretold, by some shepherds, that the queen was pregnant with two sons; they also reported that they had obtained the knowledge by divine inspiration. This report was soon circulated through Paris, and the people, alarmed by it, loudly asserted that, if this prediction was verified, it would cause the total ruin of the state. The archbishop of Paris was soon informed of these transactions, and, after conversing with the shepherds, ordered them to be closely confined in the prison of Lazarus; for the serious effect their prophecy had produced in the minds of the people had given the king some uneasiness, because it made him reflect on the disturbances he had to fear in this kingdom. He informed the cardinal of this prediction, who, in his answer, said that the birth of two dauphins was not impossible, and that, if the peasant's prophecy should be realized, the last born must be concealed with the greatest care, as he might, when he grew up, conceive that he had a right to the crown, and cause another league in the kingdom.

During the queen's second labour, which lasted several hours, the king was tormented by his apprehensions, for he felt a strong presentiment that he should soon be the father of two dauphins. He desired the bishop of Meaux not to leave the queen till she was delivered, and afterward, turning to us all, said, sufficiently loud to be heard by the queen, that, if another dauphin should be born, and any of us should divulge the secret, our heads should answer for it: for, added he, his birth must be a secret of state, to 7

prevent the misfortunes which would follow the disclosure, as the salic law has been silent concerning the inheritance of a kingdom on the birth of male twins.

The event which had been foretold soon after arrived, for the queen, while the king was at supper, gave birth to a second son, much smaller and handsomer than the first; and the poor infant, by his incessant cries, seemed to lament his entrance into a world where so much misery was in store for him. The chancellor then drew up a certificate of this extraordinary event, but the king not approving it, it was burnt in our presence, and it was not till after he had written a great many that his majesty was satisfied. The first almoner endeavoured to persuade the king that he ought not to conceal the birth of a prince; to which his majesty replied, that reasons of state absolutely required the most inviolable secrecy.

The king soon after dictated the oath of secrecy, which he desired us all to sign. When this important business was concluded, he sealed the oath to the certificate, and took possession of it. The royal infant was then given to the midwife; but, to deter her from revealing the secret of its birth, she was menaced with death if ever she gave the least hint of it; we were all, like wise, strictly charged not even to converse with each other on the subject.

His majesty dreaded nothing so much as a civil war, and he thought that the dissentions which would certainly occur between the two brothers, if they were brought up as such, would certainly occasion one; the cardinal, also, when he was invested with the superintendancy of the prince's education, did every thing in his power to keep this apprehension alive.

The king ordered us to examine carefully the poor child's body, to see if he had any marks by which he might hereafter be known, if his brother should die; for he always

purposed, in that case, to put the infant in possession of his rights.

During the infancy of the young prince, M. Peronnette, the midwife, treated him as if he were her own son, but, from her great care and manner of living, every one suspected that he was the illegitimate son of some rich nobleman.

As soon as the prince's infancy was over, cardinal Mazarin, on whom his education had devolved, consigned him to my care, with orders to educate him in a manner suitable to the dignity of his birth, but in private. M. Peronnette continued to attend him in my house in Burgundy till her death, and they were warmly attached to each other.

I had frequent conversations with the queen during the subsequent disturbances in this kingdom; and her majesty has often said to me, that if the prince's birth should be discovered during the life of the young king, his brother, the male-contents, would, she feared, take advantage of it to raise a revolt among the people; for, she added, that it was the opinion of many able physicians, that the last born of twins was the first conceived, and of course the eldest. This fear did not, however, prevent the queen from preserving, with the greatest care, the written testimonies of the prince's birth; for she intended, if any accident had befallen his brother, to have recognised him, though she had another

son.

The young prince received as good an education as I could have wished to have received myself, and a better one than was bestowed on the acknowledged princes.

When he was about nineteen, his desire to know who he was increased to a great degree, and he tormented me with continual solicitations to make him acquainted with the author of his existence; the more earnest he was, the more resolute were my refusals; and when he saw that his entreaties did not avail, he endeavoured to persuade me that he thought he was my son.

Often, when he called me by the tender name of father, did I tell him that he deceived himself; but, at length, seeing that he persevered in this opinion, I ceased to contradict him, and gave him reason to believe that he was really my son. He appeared to credit this, with a view, no doubt, of forcing me, by this means, to reveal the truth to him; as I afterwards learned that he was at that very time doing all in his power to discover who he was.

Two years elapsed in this manner, when an imprudent action, for which I shall ever reproach myself, revealed to him the important secret of his birth. He knew that I had received, at that time, many expresses from the king; and this circumstance, probably, raised some doubts in his mind, which he sought to clear up by opening my scrutoire, in which I had imprudently left many letters from the queen and the cardinal. He read them, and their contents, aided by his natural penetration, discovered the whole secret to him.

I observed, about this time, that his manners were quite changed, for, instead of treating me with that affection and respect which I was accustomed to receive from him, he became surly and reserved. This alteration at first surprised me, but I too soon learnt the cause.

My suspicion was first roused by his asking me, with great earnestness, to procure him the portraits of the late and present king. I told him, in answer, that there was no good resemblances of either, and that I would wait till some eminent painter should execute their pic

tures.

This reply, which he appeared extremely dissatisfied with, was followed by a request to go to Dijon. The extreme disappointment he expressed on being refused alarmed me, and from that moment I watched his motions more closely. I afterward learnt that his motive for wishing to visit Dijon was to see the king's picture; he had an intention also of going from thence to

the court, that was then kept at St. Jean-de-Las, to see and compare himself with his brother.

The young prince was then extremely beautiful, and he inspired such an affection in the breast of a young chambermaid, that, in defiance of the strict orders which all the domestics had received, not to give the prince any thing he required without my permission, she procured him the king's portrait.

As soon as the unhappy prince glanced his eye on it, he was forcibly struck by its resemblance to himself; and well he might, for one portrait would have served for them both. This sight confirmed all his doubts, and made him furious. He instantly flew to me, exclaiming, in the most violent passion, "This is the king! and I am his brother! here is an undeniable proof of it." He then showed me a letter from cardinal Mazarin that he had stolen out of my scrutoire, in which his birth was mentioned.

I now feared that he would contrive means to escape to the court during the celebration of his bro ther's nuptials; and to prevent this meeting, which I greatly dreaded, I soon after sent a messenger to the king, to inform him of the prince's having broken open my scrutoire, by which means he had discovered the secret of his birth. I also informed him of the effect this discovery had produced in his mind. On the receipt of this letter his majesty instantly ordered us both to be imprisoned. The cardinal was charged with this order; and, at the same time, acquainted the prince that his improper conduct was the cause of our common misfortune.

I have continued from that time till this moment a fellow-prisoner with the prince; and now, feeling that the awful sentence to depart this life has been pronounced by my heavenly judge, I can no longer refuse to calm both my own mind and my pupil's, by a candid declaration of this important fact, which may enable him to extricate himself from his present ignominious state if the

king should die without issue. Ought I to be obliged, by a forced oath, to keep a secret inviolably, with which posterity ought to be acquainted?

For the Literary Magazine.

LESSONS TO BAD HORSEMEN.

THE following instructions are worthy of general attention, on many accounts. In the first place, there is scarcely a man or woman, in any class of society, who does not, in some degree, stand in need of them, and to whom they may not be highly serviceable in the second place, they are eminently conducive to the ease and safety of the reader: and, thirdly, they are calculated to preserve that noble and deserving animal, the horse, from a great deal of unnecessary suffering. These lessons are divested of all technical refinement and obscurity, and can be throughly understood by almost every reader.

Every horse should stand still when he is mounted. This will be readily granted; yet we see how much the contrary is practised. When a gentleman mounts at a livery-stable, the groom takes the horse by the bit, which he bends tight round his under jaw: the horse striving to go on, is forced back; advancing again, he frets, as he is again stopped short, and hurt by the manner of holding him. The rider, meantime, mounting without the bridle, or at least holding it but slightly, is helped to it by the groom, who being thoroughly employed by the horse's fluttering, has at the same time both bridle and stirrup to give. This confusion would be prevented, if every horse was taught to stand still when mounted. For, bid your groom, therefore, when he rides your horse to water, to throw himself over him from a horseblock, and kick him with his leg, even before he is fairly upon him. This wrong manner of mounting is

what chiefly teaches your horse the vicious habit against which we are here warning. On the other hand, a constant practice of mounting in the proper manner, is all that is necessary to prevent a horse's going on till the rider is quite adjusted in the saddle.

The next thing is, that the rider mount properly. The common method is to stand near the croup or hinder part of the horse, with the bridle held very long in the right hand. By this manner of holding the bridle before you mount, you are liable to be kicked; and when you are mounted, your horse may go on some time, or play what gambols he pleases, before the rein is short enough in your hand to prevent him. It is common likewise for an awkward rider, as soon as his foot is in the stirrup, to throw himself with all his force to gain his seat: which he cannot do, till he has first overbalanced himself on one side or the other: he will then wriggle into it by degrees. The way to mount with ease and safety is, to stand rather before than behind the stirrup. In this posture take the bridle short, and the mane together in your left hand, helping yourself to the stirrup with your right, so that your toe may not touch the horse in mounting. When your left foot is in the stirrup, move on your right till you face the side of the horse looking across over the saddle. Then with your right hand grasp the hinder part of the saddle;. and with that and your left, which holds the mane and bridle, lift your self upright on your left foot. Remain thus a mere instant on your stirrup, so as to divide the action into two motions. While in this posture, you have a sure hold with both hands, and are at liberty either to get safely down, or to throw your leg over and gain your seat. By this deliberate motion likewise, you avoid, what every good horseman would endeavour to avoid, putting your horse into a flutter.

When you dismount, hold the bridle and mane together in your

left hand, as when you mounted; put your right hand on the pommel of the saddle, to raise yourself; throw your leg back over the horse, grasp the hinder part of the saddle with your right hand, remain a moment on your stirrup, and in every respect dismount as you mounted; only what was your first motion then becomes the last now. Remember not to bend your right knee in dismounting, lest your spur should rub against the horse.

Hold your bridle at a convenient length. Sit square, and let not the purchase of the bridle pull forward your shoulder; but keep your body even, as if each hand held a rein. Hold your reins with the whole grasp, dividing them with your little finger. Let your hand be perpendicular; your thumb will then be uppermost, and placed on the bridle. Bend your wrist a little outward; and when you pull the bridle, raise your hand toward your breast, and the lower part of the palm rather more than the upper. Let the bridle be at such length in your hand, as, if the horse should stumble, you may be able to raise his head, and support it by the strength of your arms, and the weight of your body thrown backward. If you hold the rein too long, you are subject to fall backward as your horse rises.

If, knowing your horse, you think a tight rein unnecessary, advance your arm a little, but not your shoulder, toward the horse's head, and keep your usual length of rein. By this means, you have a check upon your horse, while you indulge him.

If you ride with a curb, make it a rule to hook on the chain yourself; the most quiet horse may bring his rider into danger, should the curb hurt him. If, in fixing the curb, you turn the chain to the right, the links will unfold themselves, and then oppose a farther turning. Pat on the chain loose enough to hang down on the horse's under lip, so that it may not rise and press his

jaw, till the reins of the bridle are moderately pulled.

If your horse is used to stand still when mounted, there will be no occasion for one to hold him: but if he does, suffer him not to touch the reins, but that part of the bridle which comes down the cheek of the horse. He cannot then interfere with the management of the reins, which belongs to the rider only; and holding a horse by the curb (which is ever painful to him) is evidently improper when he is to stand still.

Do not ride with your arms and elbows as high as your shoulders; nor let them shake up and down with the motion of the horse. The posture is unbecoming, and the weight of the arms and of the body too, if the rider does not sit still, acts in continual jerks on the jaw of the horse, which must give him pain, and make him unquiet, if he has a tender mouth or any spirit.

Bad riders wonder why horses are gentle as soon as they are mounted by skilful ones, though their skill seems unemployed: the reason is, the horse goes at his ease, yet finds all his motions watched; which he has sagacity enough to discover. Such a rider hides his whip, if he finds his horse is afraid of it, and keeps his legs from his sides, if he finds he dreads the spur.

Never let your legs shake against the sides of the horse; and neither keep your arms and elbows high, and in motion, nor rivet them to your sides, but let them fall easy. One may, at a distance, distinguish a genteel horseman from an awkward one the first sit still, and appears of a piece with his horse; the latter seems flying off at all points.

To have a good seat is to sit on that part of the horse, which, as he springs, is the centre of motion; and from which, of course, any weight would be with most difficulty shaken. As in the rising and fall. ing of a board placed in æquilibrio, the centre will be always most at

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