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fisheries belonging to it ; with the value of the whole together in the time of King Edward, as well as when granted by King William, and at the time of this survey; also whe. therit was capable of improvement, or of being advanced in its value; they were likewise directed to return the tenants, of every degree, the quantity of lands now and formerly held by each of them; and what was the number of the villains or slaves; and also the number and kinds of their cattle and live stock. These inquisitions being first methodized in the county, were afterwards sent úp to the king's Exchequer; some of the particulars concerning which the jury were directed to inquire were thought unnecessary to be inserted. This survey, at the time in which it was made, gave great offence to the people, and occasioned a jealousy that it was intended for the foundation of some new imposition.
Notwithstanding the precaution taken by the Conqueror to bave this survey faithfully and impartially executed, it appears, from indisputable authority, that a false return was given in by some of the commis sioners. This was in the case of the Abbey of Croyland, in Lincolnshire; the possessions of which were greatly under-rated, both with regard to quantity and value. Perhaps similar or more interested inducements may have operated in other instances ; as it is said, Ralph Flambard, minister to William Rufus, proposed the making a fresh and more rigorous inquisition ; but it was never esecuted.
Nevertheless, in despite of this impeachment of its credibility, the authority of Domesday-book, in point of tenure, hath never been permitted to be called in question; for instance, when it hath been necessary to distinguish whether lands were held in ancient demesne, or in what other manner, recourse hath always been had to Domesday-book, and to that only, to determine the doubt. I lands were set down in that book, under the title of “terra regis" (land of the king); or if it was said there, “ rex habet" (the king holds it), such land, or such a town, it was
determined to be the king's ancient demesne. If the land or town was therein set down under the name of a private lord or subject, then it was determined to have been at the time of the survey the land of such private person, and not ancient demesne. Indeed, its name is said to have been derived from its definite authority, from which, as from the sentence pronounced at“ Domesday," or the "Day of Judgment," there could be no appeal. But Stowe assigns another reason for this appellation; “Domesday-book" being, according to him, & corruption of “Domus Dei-book"-a title given it because heretofore deposited in the king's treasury, in a place of the Church of Westminster, or Winchester, called “Domus-Dei" (the house of God); but this last expla. nation has but few advocates. This record is comprised in two volumes; one a large folio, the other a quarto. The first is written on 382 double pages of vellum, in a small, but plain character, each page haring à double column. Some of the capital letters and principal passages are touched with red ink; and some have strokes of red ink run across them, as if scratched out. This volume contains the description of thirty-one counties, arranged and written as follows:
Hantscire ... 5 Berrochescire
Devonscire ... ... 10 Cornualgie ... ...
Midelsexe ... ... ...
Oxenfordscire ... 15 Glowcest'scire ... ...
Wiricestrescire ... ...
Huntedunscire ... 20 Bedfordscire
Cestresciro ... 4..
Fol. Derbyscire ... ... ... ... ... 272 Snotingh'scire ... ... ... ... 280
d ... ... ... ... 293-367 Eurvicacire ... ... ... ... 228-376 Lindesig, or Lincolnshire, divided
into the West Riding, North
Riding, and East Riding ... 366 Towards the beginning of each country, there is a catalogue of the capital lords, or great landholders, who possessed anything in it; begin. ning with the king, and then naming the great lords according to their rank and dignity.
The other volume is in quarto ; it is written on 450 double pages of vellum, but in a single column, and in a large but very fair character. It contains the counties Essex, fol. 1: Norfolk, fol. 109; Suffolk, fol. 281, to the end.
Part of the county of Rutland is included in that of Northampton; and part of Lancashire in the counties of York and Chester.
The pound, so often mentioned in Domesday-book, says Sir Robert Atkins, in his History of Gloucester shire, for reserved rent, was the weight of a pound in silver, consist. ing of twelve ounces, which is equal in weight to three pounds and two shillings of our present money; the same weight in gold is now worth forty-eight pounds.
The shilling, mentioned in the same book, consisted of twelvepence, and is equal in weight to three shillings of our money. The denomination of a shilling was of different value in different nations; and often of a different value in the same
nation, as the Government thought fit to alter it. There was no such piece of money ever coined in this kingdom until the year 1504, in the latter end of the reign of King Henry the Seventh. In the Saxon times there went forty-eight shillings to the pound; then the shilling was accounted at fivepence; and every one of these pence being of the weight of our threepence, a shilling, then, must make fifteen pence; and fortyeight times fifteenpence a pound weight. In the Norman time, and ever since, a shilling was accounted twelvepence; and every penny, as aforesaid, weighing threepence, there must be the weight of three of our shillings in one shilling of the Norman computation; and, consequently, twenty Norman shillings do likewise make a pound weight.
Silver pence were anciently the only current coin of England; and, afterwards, about the reign of King John, silver halfpence and silver farthings were introduced. The penny was the greatest piece of silver coin until the year 1353, when King Edward the Third began to coin groats; and they had their name from their large size, for gross did signify great. Crowns and half-crowns were first coined in the reigu of King Edward the Sixth, in the year 1551, about two hundred and ninety years since.
It may not be improper to add, that a caracute, hide, or ploughland, was a certain quantity of about 120 acres.-Grosse's Antiquities.
ON THE NATURE, CAUSES, AND USES OF THE TWILIGHT.
As the most sublime, and at the is hidden from us, and behind the same time the most useful ideas result other half of the earth, he cannot from reflecting on the wonders of the project any of his rays directly to us. creation, it will not be an useless em He may, indeed, dart several of them ployment to consider attentively that upon the moon, or other planets, light which whitenis our horizon long which will be reflected, as from a before the sun, the immediate cause glass, and part of them sent back to of it, makes his appearance. This us. The usefulness of this is worthy order of nature has something sur- of our gratitude. prising in it; for we see the light no These benefits are increased by the otherwise than by the rays that flow atmosphere, which is framed and disto our eyes. Now the sun being as posed over our heads in such a manyet in that part of the heavens which ner that, notwithstanding its esten
sive mass, it suffers us to see the stars a moment suppose the atmosphere to that shine at an immense distance be destroyed, and we shall be confrom us; and yet its density bends vinced that it must be productive of and gathers for us an infinite num- the following cousequences:-1st, the ber of rays, of which we should rising of the syin would not be preotherwise be entirely deprived. ceded by any twilight, nor ushered in
Any ray, or portion of light, that by the aurora, there being nothing to falls directly and perpendicularly on reflect towards us the least of his the atmosphere, enters it without any oblique rays; but the most intense obstacle, and decends through it to darkness would surround us till the the earth, in the same right line. moment of his rising. 2nd, he would But those which fall obliquely upon in an instant break out from under it are either admitted into, or re- the horizon, show himself the same pelled from it, according to the situa- as he would appear towards the midtion of the luminous body. If its dle of his course, and would not in obliquity be more than 18 degrees, the least change his appearance till that is, if the object be more than 18 the instant of his setting, when it degrees below the horizon, all the would be equally obscure with regard rays flowing from it are turned aside to us as in the middle of the darkest and lost in the immense extent of night. The sun, indeed, would strike the heavens; but when the obliquity our eyes with a lively brightness, but is less than 18 degrees, the rays enter it would only resemble a clear fire, the atmosphere and are refracted to which we should see during the our sight.
night in the midst of a spacious This is the true cause of the aurora, field. It would be day-light, if you or dawn of day; and the same cause will, for we should see the sun and also produces its continuance and the adjacent objects around us; but principal beauty, even when the sun the rays which fell on such lands as is in his greatest degree of elevation are a little remote would be entirely and casts on us all his heat. The lost in the vast expanse of the hea earth, which receives these rays, beats vens. These lands would not be them back on all sides; they ascend perceived, and the night would still again into the atmosphere, which continue, notwithstanding the fire of once more returns us the greatest this bright and brilliant STAR. For, part of them. Thus it makes them instead of the white tint or colour doubly useful, preserving to us that which characterizes the day and dis splendour which is the beauty of plays all nature, by brightening the nature, and that heat which is the azure of the heavens, we should see soul of it; for it gathers together an nothing but a black deep, an abyss innumerable quantity of rays, the of darkness, wherein the rays of the greater or lesser union of which is sun would meet with nothing capable the measure of heat and cold. Thus, of reflecting them to us. It is true, the atmosphere becomes to man a the number of objects would seem to mantle of the finest texture, which, be augmented in the heavens, and the without making him sensible of the stars would be seen at the same time least weight, confines that vivifying with the sun; but it would always heat which would otherwise soon be be dark, and the difference of that lost.
darkness and our night would conThe atmosphere does, at the same sist in this, that those luminous time, cause and maintain around us bodies which now appear to be placed that brisk and universal light which in a pleasing and delightful azure, lays our whole habitation before our would then seem to fasten on a diseyes, and which, though it be a neces- mal mourning-carpet. sary consequence of the irradiation It may perhaps be difficult to conof the sun on the atmosphere, yet is ceive how the destruction of the the work of the latter, rather than atmosphere carries with it the loss the production of the sun itself. of that fine azure which adorns the
In order to elucidate this, which at heavens and delights the earth. But first may appear a paradox, let us for this will plainly appear, if it be considered what a quantity of rarefied water is raised on high, and buoyed up from the highest part of the atmosphere down to us. There never is a greater quantity of it collected there than in the finest summer-days, when there are no clouds or vapours to be seen; thus, though these waters, higher than the region of the clouds, escape our senses, our reason points out their existence. It is among these gatherings of light and rarefied waters always suspended over our heads that all the rays of light reflected from the surface of the land meet; and the atmosphere sends them back to us from all parts. This prodigious mass of rarefied waters which surrounds us, being a simple and uoiform body in its whole extent, the colour of it is always simple and constantly the same.
What are those azure-arched skies, which we confound with the starry heaven? are they, then, nothing more than a little air and water? and what we took for the heaven only a cover wrapped close round the earth? It is, indeed, nothing else ; and this is a new wonder, which requires more
than a bare admiration. It is no less
THE ISLAND AND CAVE OF ELEPHANTA. OVER against the castle of Bombay, you to the opening or portal of a about the distance of five miles, lies large cavern, hewn out of a solid the very small but famous island of rock, into a magnificent temple; for Elephanta. It cannot at most be such surely it may be termed, conbut about three miles in compass, sidering the immense workmanship and consists of almost all hill: at of such an excavation, and seems to the foot of which, as you land, you me a far more bold attempt than see, just above the shore, on your that of the pyramids of Egypt. right, an elephant coarsely cut in There is a fair entrance into this stone, of the natural size, and at subterraneous temple, which is an some little distance not impossible to oblong square, in length about be taken for a real elephant, from thirty yards by thirteen yards broad. the stone being naturally of the The roof is nothing but the rock cut colour of that beast. It stands on a flat at the top, and in which I could platform of stones of the same not discern anything that did not colour. On the back of this ele- show it to be all of one piece. It is phant was placed, standing, another about ten feet high, and supported young one, appearing to have been towards the middle, at equi-distance all of the same stone. Of the from the sides, and from one an. meaning or history of this figure other, with two regular rows of pil. there is no tradition old enough to lars of a singular order. They are give any account.
very massive, short in proportion to Returning then to the foot of the their thickness, and their capital hill, you ascend an easy slant, which, bears some resemblance to a round about half way up the hill, brings cushion, pressed by the superincum
bent mountain, with which they are also of one piece. At the further end of this temple are three gigantic figures, the face of one of them is at least five feet in length, and of a proportional breadth. But these representations have no reference or connexion either to any known history or the mythology of the Gentoos. They had continued in a tolerable state of preservation and wholeness, considering the remoteness of their antiquity, until the arrival of the Portuguese, who made themselves masters of the place, and in the blind fury of their bigotry, not suffering any idols but their own, they must have been even at some pains to deface them as they now remain, considering the hardness of the stone. It is said they even brought cannon to the demolition of images, which greatly deserved to be spared for the unequalled curiosity of them. Of this Queen Catherine of Portugal was, it seems, so sensible, that she could not conceive that any traveller would return from that side of India without visiting the wonders of this cavern; of which, too, the sight appeared to me to exceed all the de. scriptions I had heard of them.
About two-thirds of the way up this temple, on each side, and front. ing each other, are two doors or outlets, into smaller grots or excavations, and freely open to the air. Near and about the door-way, on the right hand, are several mutilated images, single and in groups. In one of the last, I remarked a kind of resemblance to the story of Solomon dividing the child, there standing a figure with a drawn sword, holding in one hand an infant with the head downwards, which appears as if in the act to cleave it through the middle. The outlet of the other, on the left hand, is into an area of about seven yards in length, and four yards in breadth, at the upper end of which, as you turn to the right, presents itself a colonnade covered at the top, of ten or twelve feet deep, and
in length answering to the breadth of the area ; this joins to au apartment of the most regular architecture, an oblong square, with a door in perfect symmetry, and the whole executed in quite a contrary taste and manner from any of the oldest or best Gentoo buildings anywhere extant. I took particular notice of some paintings round the cornices, not for anything curious in the design, but for the beauty and freshness of the colouring, which must have lasted some thousands of years, on supposing it contemporary with the building itself. The floor of the apartment is generally full of water, its pavement or groundwork not permitting it to be drawn off, or to be soaked up. For it is to be observed, that even the cavern itself is not visitable after the rains, until the ground of it has had time to dry into a competent hardness. In the very sultriest days of the heats there cannot be imagined a cooler or pleasanter retreat; foc, though the air be almost on fire round you, you are no sooner entered the cave than you are refreshed with a sensible coolness, the three openings above mentioned not only furnishing sufficient light, but a thorough draught of air, that does not so much convey freshness into the cave, as it receives it from constant temperature, preserved to it by its impenetrability to the sun, from the thickness of the mountainous mass above it. And even the light that comes into it through the portals has lost, by the way, all the force of those fiery particles to which it gives so great an activity.
Returning to my subject, the island contained nothing more that is worthy of notice. There are not above two or three huts upon it, which is not surprising, considering the little land there is to cultivate, and that there is no water on it but what is saved from the rain.Grosse's Voyage to the East Indies, in 1798.
The Bible is a revelation of the gracious heart of God and the wicked heart of man.
When we send our hearts on errands to heaven, how often do they loiter and play by the way!