The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1876-06-10 00:00:00

ur Fonbon 6ortrspttitbent.

[We deem it right to state that we do not at all tines
Identify ourselves with our Correspondent's opinions.]

Nine years ago this summer London received a note-
worthy visitor. He was lodged in Buckingham
Palace, the Royal Standard waved gaily over the
building in token that a reigning sovereign was under
its roof; he was entertained with great alnagnificence
at Guildhall—the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs receiving
titles of distinction in consequence; he dined in digni-
fied state tvith the Queen at Windsor; a review of the
fleet was held in his honour at Spithead ; and he was
invested by her Majesty in person with the Order of
the Garter. Who was this illustrious guest? Who
but the Sultan of Turkey, the thirty-third in male
• descent from the founder of the dynasty, the absolute
ruler of millions both in Europe and in Asia, the yen--
table representative of the Prophet, the type of earthly
-1 power and grandeur! He had then been on the Throne of
the Grand Turk six years ; and although people did not
Low much about him, it was hoped that contact with the
4: progressive civilization of the West, and the spectacle
of the results of energy to be witnessed amid the ever-
shifting panorama of life in London and Paris, would
have beneficial results upon the mind of the Sultan—
that is, if it were possible for it to receive them. It has
since been seen that the Turkish ruler was utterly
incapable of learning any lessons of this kind. He
went from bad to worse. With a civil list of two
millions sterling per annum for his own personal expen.
diture, ha built one new palace after another at the
expense of the nation, and by his extravagance
brought his empire to bankruptcy. No wonder
that at last even the fatalistic Moslem rose in revolt
against such an embodiment of incapacity and mis-
rule, and declared that they would no longer have this
man to reign over them. And now the news which
has been flashed over by the telegraphic wires that
Abdul Aziz has committed suicide gives a tragic end-
ing to the historical drama in which he had played so
prominent a part. The history of the Turkish Em-
pire, now extending over several centuries, has shown
that when its rulers were mentally strong it grew;
when they were weak it decayed, until it has reached
its present degradation in that descendant of Othman
who has just passed away. Yet it was not always so.
Instead of the slothful luxury of the Seraglio, the heirs
of Royalty in the heyday of Turkish glory were
educated in the council and in the field. From early
youth they were entrusted by their fathers with the
command of provinces and armies; and this manly
discipline must have essentially contributed to the
vigour of the monarchy. The custom, which was
dropped by the Sultans, was taken up by the rulers of
Prussia, and in each case we have seen the results.
The King of the Belgians has been making a short
visit to London; but his Majesty runs over to see us
so frequently, and is so well known in our midst, that
we now make no stranger of him. Brussels is really
nearer to our shores in point of time, than many parts
of our own islands are to the metropolis. You can now
easily breakfast in the Belgian capital and dine in the
English on the same day. In these days of cheap and
rapid continental trayel, our people possess more
personal knowledge of many parts of Europe than of
their own country, either on the islands or of the main-
land. How many, for instance, know by experience any-
thing of the wild grandeur of the scenery in the far-off
Hebrides, or of Orkney and Shetland? Are the lonely
solitudes of Mayo and Galway or the unrelieved
desolation of Connemaia aught but a name to millions
of our population? Yet you find immense numbers
who can tell you all about the geography of the Place
de la Concorde and the Rue Royale in Paris, the
antique glories of ,the Cathedral at St. Denis, and the
splendours of the spacious Palace at Versailles. And
as you can now get a return ticket to Brussels for about
thirty shillings, no wonder that the independent and
• compact little Belgian kingdom is such a favourite
resort of those who have a few pounds in the autumn
to spare. The people are hospitable, more especially
In the country districts, and the cost of living is very
reasonable—no mean consideration for many who go
upon a holiday.
The brief vaeaticn which Parliament takes at Whit-
suntide is the last to b 3 enjoyed by that assembly
before the final break-up, when the cry is "Away to
the woods, away !" There are now ten weeks of hard
stern work before our legislators; and no long time
will elapse until the overcrowded order-book must be
lightened by the throwing over of some of the
measures which now stand there nightly never to be
reached. If the House could only agree to conduct its
business upon some fairly intelligible principle, so far as
opposed Bills are concerned, an enormous amount of
valuable time might be saved. For instance, in
consequence of the early hour at which the London
papers now go to press, it is found impossible to
report at length anything which happens after mid-
night; and many members, therefore, contend that no
opposed measure ought to be taken subsequent to the
time when Big Ben has struck twelve. This, how-
ever, does not meet with general acquiescence, but as
a minority possesses an almost incalculable power of
stopping the way by incessant divisions, no way is
made. An hour and a half, from twelve to half-past
one in the morning, is sometimes spent in this way,
with the result that the majority has to give way at
last, and nothing has been done. Meanwhile, public
business must necessarily stand still, and this leads to
what is called late in the session, "the massacre of
innocents," or the wholesale slaughter of unoffending
measures which, owing to want of time it is impossible
to pass.

Before Sir John Lubbock's Act of 1871 made the
first Monday in August a Bank Holiday, Whitsun-
tide was the most generally observed holiday of the
working classes. More people seemed to be about
than at Easter, when the weather, as a rule, is any-
thing but settled; yet there have been Whit-Mondays
which have proved most disasteous to the enjoyment
of those who have sought pleasure and recreation.
Such a day was Whit-Monday, 1874, when the morn•
ing broke splend:dly, and tens of thousands, dressed in
light summer attire, went forth rejoicing. By-aad-
bye vast banks of cloud overspread the sky; the thunder
pealed with a terrific crash and rattle; and the rain de-
scended for hours literally in pails-full. Utterly unpre-
pared for such a visitation, and without any protection
f-om the unanticipated tempest, not only were dresses
spoiled, but colds were caught, and the health of many
a constitution impaired. It is possible that the first
Monday in August is now as thoroughly observed by
the working classes as Whitsuntide—for after that has
gone there are no more recognised public holidays until
Boxing Day, a spell of nearly five months. That is
the longrst interval of the whole.
The "leafy month of June" is one the praises of
which have been sung by poets in various ages.
Coming when the days are at their longest, and
nearly at their hottest, and when the opportunities
for out-door enjoyment are full and ample, it
generally leaves pleasant memories behind it. If
some are inclined to ask "What's in a name ? "
the answer would b 3 a great deal, so far as the
appellations of the months asks concerned. June, for
instance, is suggestive of long summer days and
agreeale excursions; while the very mention of the
word December carries the memory back to times of
gloom and darkness, when the sun no longer shines
upon the land. The name of the month is derived from
the goddess Juno, one of the lights of ancient mytho-
logy. If the ancients did nothing else for us they gave
us lasting names for the months of the year which
the vicissitudes of 2,000 years have been unable to
change. Only one serious attempt to alter it was made,
and that was in the time of the first French Revolu-
tion, when the months were called according to
the seasons; and for example the 20th of May
to the 18th of June was ordered thenceforth
to be known as Prairie], which being interpreted
eignifieth Pasture month. Old things were to pees
away, and all was to become new. People, however,
never took kindly to the contemplated conversions of
the months into mere descriptions of the progress of
Nature's works, and the original mode of calculation
was restored by Napoleon.
It is somewhat remarkable that of the two great
ranges of mountains in Western Europe, one should
enjoy BO much larger a share of popularity than the
other. Every summer are the Alps crowded by throngs
of English tourists, who seem almost to outnumber the
native population. But in the Pyrenees, which would
seem to the impartial critics to offer nearly equal
charms, the British tourist is almost unknown.
For one who starts from this country to explore
the great mountain range between France and
Spain, at least a hundred rush off to Switzerland. Yet
if the scenery of the two districts be compared, an
artist might well hesitate to which he should give the
palm; and if a study of the inhabitants be at all an
object with the traveler, there is little doubt that the
rustic of the south of France is as lively and cheerful
as the Swiss. Some parts
.of the temperate and
pleasantly-wooded valleys of the Pyrenees are recom-
mended as places of sojourn for those who suffer from
bronchial affections. Both mountain ranges have been the
scenes of fierce fighting in times gone by—the Pyrenees
more especially in 1813, when a series of engagements
took place between the British army under the Duke
of Wellington, and the French, under Marshal Soult,
the lattec being defeated. Exactly a quarter of a cen-
tury afterwards these two distinguished men met
tinder ver.y different circumstances, It was at the
coronation of Queen Victoria in Westminster Abbey,
on the 23th of June, 1838. Marshal South was then
French Ambassador to the Court of St. James's, and
formed one of a brilliant company entertained by the
Duke of Wellington that evening at Apsley House.
It is satisfactory to note that, while the Loudon
School Board is attending to the mental improvement
of the children of the metropolis, their physical deve-
lopment is not torgotten, some time ago a schema of

military drill was introduced —a step well calculated to
expand the chest, to quicken the eye, and to exercise the
muscular power. The more recent agreement to
recognise swimming as a branch of public edusation
will do much to encourage an extremely useful and
healthy art, and one in which, to pre-eminently mari-
time people as the English are singularly deficient.
Even among sailors, who have been bred near the sea
eoast, it is by no means uncommon to find complete
ignorance of what to them is a vital branch of know-
ledge. There can be little question that the decision
of the Board was right in principle, however difficult
it may be found to give it practical effect,
owing to the comparative paucity of swimming-
baths in the metropolis. Physical education
f,)r girls, too, is commanding more attention,
and a simple gymnastic apparatus is now often Lt-
tached to the playground of many a day-school. From
the excess of females over males, it seems clear that a
certain proportion of the former must inevitably earn
a living by manual labour more or lees severe. Hence
the importance of giving them when young such an
amount of physical education as will render them
capable of doing hard work in after years.
There is an act of parliament in existence on our
statute-book which is unknown to the code of our im-
mediate neighbours across the Channel, and it is
directed against what in its own language are described
as "lotteries, little-goes, and unlawful games." An ex-
ception was, however, made in favour of art-unions, and
its expressed object was to promote the encouragement
of the fine arts. It was chiefly through the agency of
these that the works of Turner, Wilkie, and Mediae,
were made known to their countrymen. The skill of
the engraver has multiplied them a hundredfold.
Take for instance those two grand historical paintings
of Maclise in the Houses of Parliament, representing
two of the most signal victories ever won by British
arms—one upon the sea, and the other upon the land—
Trafalgar and Waterloo. Both have been engraved
upon steel, thanks to the Art Union principle, and in
their neat maple frames may now be seen on the walls
of large numbers of British homes. The cffi)rescence
upon the walls of the Palace of Westminster may
gradually destroy the magnificent work of Maclise ;
but the figures have been transferred to enduring Steel,
which is well calculated to resist the effacing figures of
decay.

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