Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 63, No. 389, March 1848Various
History
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 63, No. 389, March 1848
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.
BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
NO. CCCLXXXIX. MARCH, 1848. VOL. LXIII.
CONTENTS.
MR COBDEN ON THE NATIONAL DEFENCES 261
ROMANISM IN ROME 281
CRIMES AND REMARKABLE TRIALS IN SCOTLAND 293
SIR SIDNEY SMITH 309
MY ROUTE INTO CANADA 328
THE INTERCEPTED LETTERS: A TALE OF THE BIVOUAC 340
GREENWICH TIME 354
A MILITARY DISCUSSION TOUCHING OUR COAST DEFENCES 362
HUDSON'S BAY 369
THE BUDGET 383
EDINBURGH:
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, 45, GEORGE STREET;
AND 37, PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON.
_To whom all Communications (post paid) must be addressed._
SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM.
PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS; EDINBURGH.
MR COBDEN ON THE NATIONAL DEFENCES.
It is popularly averred by our Southern neighbours that the house of
every Englishman is his castle. No doubt to a certain extent this may
be true. In the modern mansion, as in the ancient fortalice, the
victualing department is always a matter of prime importance, and
Chubb's patent safety lock may be accepted as a convenient substitute
for the portcullis. Yet, after all, we suspect that the resemblance,
if the matter be closely investigated, will turn out to be rather
imaginary than real. A castle, according to the ideas which we have
imbibed from an early course of miscellaneous and feudal reading, must
have been a sort of earthly paradise, and the possessors of it wholly
exempt from that never-ending series of daily persecution to which we,
unhappy moderns, are subjected. With a good eight-foot thick wall of
solid masonry around, a moat broad enough to baffle the leap of Flying
Childers, and deep enough to have drenched the scalping-lock of
Goliath of Gath, and a few falconets and patereroes symmetrically
arranged along the parapets, a man might afford to enjoy a quiet
night's rest without dread of duns, or any fear of the visits of that
most malignant of unexecuted ruffians, the tax-gatherer. He might give
a jocular rejoinder to the summons of the pursuivant who appeared
before his gates with the intelligence of a further railway call; and
dismay any invading snip by the apparition of a scarecrow dangling
from a gallows on the summit of the donjon-keep. Nay, if currency were
absolutely indispensable for the purpose of paying the garrison,
Castle Dangerous would be more effective than the bank parlour has
shown itself in late times under the operation of Sir Robert Peel's
Act for the perpetuation of national bankruptcy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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