life was enormous, but the gaps made by death were speedily filled up with new victims. The expense for labour was a trifle. The slaves, in all probability, cost nothing; there is even reason to believe that they resigned their liberty, and undertook these horrid services, for the sake of subsistence, although their fare was only a handful of dry beans.* Some light is thrown on the methods for securing slave service in the history of Joseph. It was while the Pharaohs were engaged in their stupendous undertakings that Joseph, a poor Syrian boy, bought by Potiphar from the Midianite merchants, rose to consideration as a domestic slave in the royal household. Having attained the position of prime minister, a dearth ensues in the land; and how does his sagacity meet this disaster? By a provident foresight he stores up an abundance of corn in granaries, and sells it out to the people during the scarcity. But the first year exhausts their stock of money, flocks, and herds; all that they have is given for food. At the second year of dearth, therefore, they come to Joseph, and in desperation offer themselves, with their land, in exchange for subsistence. Wherefore shall we die before thine eyes, both we and our land? Buy us and our land for bread, and we and our land will be servants unto Pharaoh.' Joseph, no doubt expecting this climax, buys the people, and removes them to cities appointed for their reception, to which movement no objection appears to have been made. Then Joseph said unto the people-Behold, I have bought you this day, and your land, for Pharaoh: lo, here is seed for you, and ye shall sow the land' (Gen. xlvii. 23). At a single blow, this clever foreigner had reduced the free population of the country to the condition of serfs of the crown —a condition as nearly as possible that of the agricul- | turists of Egypt in the present day under Mehemet Ali. From similar glimpses of Grecian and Roman history, we learn that the abject poverty of the people made them thankful to resign their liberty, and become the bond-servants of opulent masters. In the latter days of the Roman empire, the great bulk of the population in Rome were mere hangers-on upon great men. Without a will of their own, or any means of individual enterprise, they gladly submitted to be the property of some one who would feed them. So also through what are called the middle ages, which succeeded the dismemberment of the Roman empire, we find a condition of slavery universal. The church, it is true, successfully interposed to prevent the open sale and deportation of human beings on the rude scale which had been formerly practised; but this only modified, without extinguishing, the principle of slavery, and the condition of dependency which ensued did not essentially differ from that which had prevailed among the Romans. Like circumstances produced like results. There was no diffusion of capital, no scope for individual exertions, no safety but under the protection of a chief. For many centuries, therefore, in England and Scotland, the peasantry, according to law and usage, were the fixed vassals, villeins, or serfs of barons, who gave them food, shelter, and clothing, in exchange for their services in peace and war. Necessity had thus not a little * A similar act of oppression was perpetrated by Peter the Great of Russia, when he caused the erection of St Petersburg. The work was compulsorily exccuted by serfs, who were wretchedly fed, and slept in the open air on the damp ground. The building of the city, it is calculated, cost the lives of upwards of three hundred thousand men. This event occurred in Europe within the last hundred and fifty years. to do with the slavery of the middle ages. To a poor man there was no choice between bondage and starvation, unless, indeed, he preferred the precarious life of an outlaw and robber. Nor did the bondage generally assume a harsh character. It was for the interest of a lord to take some degree of care of his vassals; and the expectation of living and dying in the same spot was considered a boon cheaply purchased by the resignation of independence. In sales of property, the vassals were disposed of, along with the lands and houses, to the new owner; thus, in deeds transferring property in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the words 'cum nativis, et eorum sequela' (with the natives, and their succession) frequently occur; and it is no unusual stipulation, that the purchaser shall not dismiss the bondmen into a state of self-dependent freedom.* The gradual dissolution of feudal usages, and the advance of popular rights, along with a general improvement of means, put an end to villeinage in Britain, though it is historically interesting to know that, within the last hundred years, men with their families were sold as pendicles of property in Scotland. We allude to the last fragment of legal serfdom in the British islands, as it existed in relation to the operative saltmakers and coal-miners. In justice to these men, it should be mentioned that they manifested no reluctance to receive their freedom; but the same thing cannot be said of the clansmen in the Highlands and Isles on the abolition of the heritable jurisdictions in 1748. They desired no civil privileges; they would have greatly preferred a perpetuity of feudal dependence on their chiefs; and old associations, along with their connexion with the soil, were not dissevered without violence. The truth is, the poor people's minds were etiolated. They had not the vigour for self-reliance, and required some one to think and act for them. After long ages, civil equality was established in England; every man was declared to be free, and to be the absolute proprietor of his own person. This freedom, however, was not an unmixed good. In proportion as villeinage disappeared, mendicancy increased; and so great did this new evil become, that the state was obliged to institute a modified species of serfdom, under the title of a poor-law. By this, as finally arranged in the reign of Elizabeth, the poor, no matter what their mental or physical condition, once more established their right to maintenance out of the lands on which they were born. It was practically a villeinage without sale. For the baron, was substituted a parish overseer; and for the word vassal, might be read pauper. The pauper could not be disposed of like a beast of burden; but he could be compulsorily worked in exchange for the food and shelter to which he was driven or voluntarily clung. There the matter rests. At present, the expense in- || curred for the poor in England amounts to about six millions annually (L.5,039,703 in 1845); but this is independent of a vast number of charities; and were the dispensation of funds on a similar scale in Ireland and Scotland, the yearly cost of the poor in the United Kingdom would probably be not less than ten millions. The actual outlay in the present year, it is believed, will be twenty millions. * Merville, who died in 1189, minister of William L. of Scotland, granted to Henry de Saint Clair the lands of Hermandston in MidLothian, with two bondmen, Edmond the son of Bonde, and Gillemichael his brother, with their progeny, on this express condition, that they should not be removed from the lands.-Diplom. Scotice, pl. 75. Out of all this recital of facts, a humiliating confession is wrung. Civilisation has been as unsuccessful in preventing the growth of pauperism within the bosom of society, as ever barbarism was in avoiding the institution of slavery. Three thousand six hundred years ago, Joseph stayed the horrors of dearth by making the people serfs; England, to all appearance, can think of no other means of averting starvation, than by making the people parish paupers; that is, dependents on the land. While many millions of persons are dropping out of the ranks of independent labourers, and swelling the lists of the destitute, the talk is only of improved poor-laws: which signifies an extended encroachment on public means. serfdom amongst the rural population seems but the effect of a natural, though in reality an artificial, cause. While it is a leading principle in the poor-law to fix each man to his parish, a bounty may be said to be held out for the continuance of a qualified rural vassalage. This, however, must have an end. We see it coming. The natural energies of society and powers of self-rectification have not hitherto had fair play; they have been obliged to contend with all sorts of difficulties, the relics of a feudalism, dissipated only in name and a few of its forms. Nor is it in a frantic resumption of feudal obligations in all their mediæval integrity, as some would seem to argue, that the miseries of poverty are to be averted. Englishmen have not yet fallen so low as to wish to be slaves, in order to be insured their daily bread. Popular feelings, left to their free demonstration, would seem to point in a contrary direction; and humanity might be more graciously employed than in encouraging fallacies which are repugnant to the spirit of independence. What we desiderate is justice, not charity. Freedom in commercial intercourse has already been accorded, though as yet its benefits can scarcely be said to be visible. An abolition of the laws of entail, the unembarrassed sale and transference of land (out of which would arise a better system of tenantcies and cultivation), the constituting of the whole United Kingdom one great parish as respects the poor, colonisation on a large, a continuous, and systematic scale-are all so many additional means which the generation now growing up will have the fortitude to adopt for the relief of the country. Neither have we reason to despair of eradi From the facility with which masses of men relinquish habits of independence for the sake of mere creature support, it would appear as if there was a proneness to slavery in human nature which can be eradicated only by culture, and a concurrence of happy circumstances. The disappearance of feudalism, and the gift of personal freedom, along with the security of property, have unitedly raised Britain to a high pitch of glory. In no country in Europe is labour better remunerated, or skill and industry so sure of their reward. The progress of the humbler and middle classes has been correspondingly great; thirty millions of money in savings' banks, and some thousands of benefit and assurance societies, testify a prodigious advance in habits of foresight; while the extensive enginery at work to instruct and refine, gives promise of a condition of things much more satisfactory than now exists. At the same time, it is painfully evident that society, with all its increasing opulence and intelligence, does not rid itself of the ten-cating much of the tendency to pauperise in urban popudency to vassalage and pauperism. We cannot but consider this a curious phenomenon; and did we despair, as some do, of civilisation, we should, from appearances, acknowledge that history goes on in a circle, and brings a state of refinement round to the necessities and institutions of barbarism. The phenomenon, however, is incidental, not natural. Feudal usages have bequeathed to all classes the disposition to worship rank, by what may almost be called a blind instinct. This is strikingly manifested in the elections of members of parliament. On these occasions, not alone the peasantry, who may be held excused in their half-etiolated state, but the largest and most intelligent communities, are seen voluntarily committing the management of their affairs to parties not the most suitable on general grounds, but because they possess a title, or some other qualification equally aside from the duties which are to be performed. A similar species of subserviency pervades all the higher seats of learning; of which no more conspicuous example could be given than the late exaltation of a prince-merely because he was a prince-to be chancellor of the university of Cambridge. Phrenologists, I suppose, would call all this a large development of Veneration, If things are to be called by their proper names, it is a lingering principle of serfdoma spirit of grovelling and detestable meanness. Where men, opulent and learned-perhaps we can hardly say educated, in the true sense of the word-are found cherishing feelings as grotesque as they are unreasonable, we have the less occasion to wonder at a disposition in the uninstructed masses to lapse back into habits of feudal dependence. Vast numbers are poor by inheritance, and having grown up a three-fourth idle existence, they naturally cling to the soil on which they have been cradled; and as the poor-laws, with false benevolence, strengthens the traditional attachment, lations. It can doubtless be said, with too much truth, that there are large masses of men whom prosperity does not bless-that the fruits of labour only furnish means for dissipation. But to charge this entirely to the score of human nature would be manifestly unjust. In other countries, where refined taste and harmless mirthful recreation have not for ages been proscribed, we see no such consequences. A consciousness of this fact is dawning on Britain; and in the ameliorations already affected, we have no unreasonable hope that foresight will increase along with a general improvement in the tastes and habits of the people. What might not be achieved by education alone, were common sense, instead of the miserable prejudices of party, to be allowed the ascendancy! The contingencies of human affairs will ever, unfortunately, create a certain amount of dependent poverty; but that millions of beings, able-bodied, and not deficient in intellect, should accumulate in a hopeless species of serfdom, burdensome to society, betrays a woful want of statesmanship, and is an impeachment of the national understanding. Without dreaming of a Utopia, we can conceive a state of things in which a far higher and more diffused civilisation than the present will exist, and with which the spirit and practice of vassalage will scarcely find itself congenial. Nature has no deliberate design for the maintenance of slavery. But she unequivocally demonstrates what men may very easily become, morally and physically-by neglect and misusage, gravitating nearly to the character of brutes; and by culture and favourable circumstances, ascending to a condition only a little lower than the angels! History, religion, observation, everything enforces this everlasting truth. Man must elevate himself. His Creator has most graciously pointed out the means by which he may soar to Heaven! W. C. THE LAMETER. AN IRISH STORY. NUMEROUS have been the stories about Irish weddings -the heedlessness with which they are undertaken, the frolics, fights, and follies with which they have been too often the occasion. I believe, however, there is room for one story more. At all events, it is one I picked up in the country, and I give it pretty much in the language of the narrator, a lively middle-aged lady, whom I met at a party one evening in Cork. Last summer-proceeded the lady-when I was on a visit to the seat of my cousin, Captain Johnson, in the county of Wicklow, the family was a little amused with a queer sort of wedding which took place in the small town in the neighbourhood: it was the marriage of one of the servants, and we therefore took some interest in the affair. My cousin, you must know, is a great improver-none of your old set of squires, who let things go to wreck and ruin. The estate was dreadfully incumbered when he succeeded to the inheritance, but he soon put everything to rights, and now keeps a firstrate body of servants to execute all kinds of farm-work. The estate is partly hilly and pastoral, so he has a cowherd to take care of the cattle. This cowherd, Garritt Byrne by name, was a rather good-looking young man, with a long frieze coat and capacious capes, and he usually carried a very sufficient-looking cudgel, which I daresay he knew how to flourish in proper style. Garritt, I found, was a kind of favourite. His mother had been a nurse to some of the family at the Hall, and this gave him a claim to consideration. Whether from having been a little bit spoiled from this cause, I cannot tell, but Garritt had grown up somewhat self-conceited, and took things rather easily, even when they concerned his own welfare. But this of course is not very uncommon among us Irish. Be this as it may, Garritt on one occasion got himself into trouble by his aisyness. One of the dairymaids, whose name was Judith, was the beauty of the county. She had fine black hair, handsome features, and a clear skin; but besides these personal attractions, she was a girl of some taste, and always kept herself as neat as a new pin. She was also intelligent and sprightly; her voice usually led the song in the cow-house and dairy, and much confidence was placed in her by her master and mistress. At eighteen, Judith had many admirers, but only two aspired to her hand. It was generally believed that Judith had placed her affections on Garritt Byrne, and all other lovers had moved off in consequence, except one. This was an elderly man, not by any means goodlooking, a little lame, and very rich. On account of his personal infirmity, he was called the Lameter-a term commonly applied in Ireland [as it is in Scotland] to a lame person. The Lameter, however, for all his limping gait, was a brisk, confident-sort of man, not easily daunted; and although he was aware of Judith's preference, he still hung on perseveringly, trusting to some lucky turn in his favour. Judith, it must be owned, acted rather coquetishly. She used to give the Lameter now and then a look of encouragement, which maintained his hopes; though the truth was, all her jiltish airs were employed in order to bring Garritt to a distinct arrangement as to the marriage. But Garritt, in his aisy way, looked on the encouragement of the Lameter as a piece of nonsense, and only laughed at the idea of Judith giving him up for such an insignificant rival. Garritt and Judith had been long attached to each other; explanations had been made; and for more than a year they had agreed on being married, as soon as each had gathered up what was thought sufficient. This agreement was known in the house, and every article that was not required again, or had lost its fellow, was put by for Judith. Before the year was out, Garritt made known that he had accumulated the requisite sum; but he spoke not of the wedding, except as still in prospect, and seemed as if he did not know his own mind. No woman likes to be trifled with in this kind of way. Judith's pride was concerned, and she resented the affront so far as to hint that she did not intend to wait on Garritt Byrne's pleasure much longer, not she. At last she said decidedly that Holy Eve should see her married. She was not afraid of finding a husband. Garritt laughed louder than ever at the idea of the Lameter. Summer glided past, autumn came on, and Garritt was often away in the mountains for days at a time with his cattle. He seemed to pay little attention to Judith's coldness of manner; nor did he appear to remember her threat; yet every one else felt assured that she would put it in execution. As Holy Eve drew nearer, there were evident preparations for a wedding. A white dress was bought and made up; no one, however, knew who was to be the happy man. The Lameter was not oftener at the house than usual in the evenings, but he appeared more elated than was his wont, and Judith appeared sadder and more anxious. Judith was promised a house near the Hall, and was to continue to be dairymaid; so that it made little difference to her master who her husband was to be. The morning of Holy Eve came, and Garritt Byrne was in the mountains with the cattle, where he had been for several days previously, and there appeared no sign of his return, or preparation on his part for joining in the evening's ceremony and amusements. A large barn was cleared out, and doors laid on the floors of the lower rooms for dancing on. A large room on the second storey, which was gained by narrow steep stairs, boarded at each side, was laid out with tea-tables, where the young ladies presided. The evening drew on; the bride was dressed in her white gown and a lace cap with white ribbons; the fiddlers arrived, the tea was ready, and the company come. No doubt now remained as to who was the happy man; for the Lameter arrived in full dress, with white waistcoat and cravat, and a new suit, and looked brisker than ever. He carried a jar of whisky and a glass, and regaled the dancers, who were setting to with might and main. Most of the female part of the company were taking tea up stairs with the bride; and the Lameter and the bride's brother accordingly came up to see that all was going on rightly. Judith was deadly pale, but showed no symptom of altering her determination. She received the bridegroom's awkward compliments with a smiling face as she handed him a cup of tea. A report having spread from below that the priest was coming, for a few moments she appeared stupified; then suddenly turning to the Lameter, she said aloud, 'Have you a ring?' This was an awkward question. The Lameter stammered out, No; I never thought of getting one.' 'Because,' said Judith, with a toss of her head, 'I will never be married with a key, a straw ring, or the priest's watch-chain; I must have a real gold ring of my own.' If the Lameter had had wings, he would have flown to gratify fair Judith's slightest wish; but as he had none, he hopped over to measure her finger, assuring her that he would buy her the handsomest ring in the town; and taking her brother along with him, he proceeded to the house of the only jeweller (otherwise watchmaker) to get one. The priest's coming was a false alarm; for he was not thinking of stirring yet, and was sitting at a snug fire taking a tumbler of punch in his own house. Judith became more composed; she had gained a delay, which might yet be lengthened, by her finding some fault with the ring when it came. But she appeared to fear the arrival of the priest, as she knew that she must then submit quietly to her own decree. But priest or bridegroom were not come yet, and no sound could be heard but of the music and dancing below stairs. A quarter of an hour passed; Judith was anxiously listening, when suddenly the large gate in the yard was opened with violence: in a minute after, heavy, quick steps were heard on the stairs, the door burst open, and there appeared Garritt Byrne in his long gray coat, covered with mud, and out of breath. His eyes were dazzled with the blaze of light; he passed his hand across them, and was soon beside Judith. He could not speak, but his arm was round her waist; a stride or two brought them to the door, and before the women recovered from their surprise, or could make any resistance, supposing them to have been willing, they were down the stairs. Garritt seized a dark cloak, which one of the dancers had hung at the door, and wrapping it round Judith, they hastily crossed the yard, passed through the gate, and took the road to the town. Not a word was spoke by either as they walked swiftly along. As they passed the jeweller's shop, Judith cast in a fearful glance, and saw her brother and late bridegroom still engaged choosing and bargaining for a ring. Judith breathed quicker, and drew closer to Garritt at the sickening sight. On they walked, until they gained the far end of the town, where the priest resided. Garritt stopped at his door, and gave one thundering knock. The priest's boy (a man of fifty), not very remarkable for brightness of intellect or sharpness of sight, opened the door, and welcomed the bride and bridegroom, as the former threw off the dark mantle on entering the priest's parlour, and displayed her white dress. His reverence was sitting at his warm fire, and was trying to prevail on himself to leave it, and make ready to attend the wedding at Squire Johnson's, and was now most happy to find that the young couple were so considerate as to come to him; and knowing that Judith was to be the bride, he did not suspect in the least that there had been a change of bridegrooms; and thought that all was right, although he might have noticed the soiled face and hands and dirty dress of Garritt. The money was paid, the boy and the cook were called in, and the ceremony was performed in a short time. Judith was not now so particular about a gold ring, when the priest took a small brass curtain ring from his pocket, and gave it to Garritt, with a knowing wink, to 'place on her finger. The priest gave them his blessing, and they were soon beyond pursuit, and safely housed in the mountains among Byrne's relatives, uncles and cousins by dozens' of the name-the whole affair reminding one of the story of the brave Lochinvar, and perhaps equally worthy of versification. but both were absent. The whole party were ready for pursuit, but they had no leader, and did not know what way to take; and none of them agreed on what to do ; but they all allowed that it would look very foolish to the country to have let the bride be taken off from among them. Some said they could not be blamed, when the bridegroom and the bride's brother were away, and had left her in women's care. The Lameter and his intended brother-in-law returned in the midst of confusion, and asked why the music had ceased and the dancers left off. It was some time before one of the party told what had happened; the Lameter looked confounded at first, but soon rallied, and pretended to take the matter coolly. The brother was enraged, and took several young men with him to look for Judith; but, fortunately, they did not think of going to the priest's house, until it was too late to find her there. The Lameter made a speech, in which he said that although the bride was gone, yet whisky and the fiddlers remained, and he begged of all the company to make merry. They thought that they could not do better, and the music and dancing commenced again: the Lameter gave them plenty of whisky, and they were as noisy and merry as before. It was reported that the Lameter asked several of the handsomest young girls present that night to accept of his hand and fortune; but they all told him that they would do no such thing as to take Judith's leavings. So they all refused the honour then; but it is certain that he got a wife long before the next Holy Eve, and that she was present on that night, and the prettiest girl there when Judith disappeared. Before many days were over, Judith was attending the dairy, and Garritt the cows, just as if nothing had happened them; and Garritt proved a very quiet, kind husband, and Judith a tidy, smart little wife. it is this: I would have all young men learn not to put Now for my moral-said the lady in conclusion-and off their weddings too long after they have wooed and won, and have sufficient means to marry, the damsel of their choice. And I would warn all young women to beware of making rash resolutions, the keeping of which might destroy their happiness for ever. ANGLO-INDIAN LADIES. IN a recent number* we gave a general picture of the English in India, and we are now tempted by an article To account for Garritt's indifference, and his late, in the Calcutta Review' to descend to particulars. The though sudden appearance, it must be told that he article is called French Pictures of the English in Innever believed that Judith really intended to put her dia;' and we select it for notice, because we cannot help threat into execution; and as he had no intention of hur-being tickled with the idea of an Englishman, broiling in rying the marriage, so he was contentedly attending to his master's cattle in the mountains, about five miles an almost intertropical climate, sitting down to defend off. He had put them in their sheds, and foddered them himself and his womankind from the strictures of a for the night, and had just succeeded in lighting a good Frenchman. Between the two, one would think the fire in his own hut, when his little brother disturbed truth must out; and more especially since the Count de his quiet by rushing in as the sun was setting, and Warren, being an officer in the Company's army, enwith more energy than his brother Garritt ever pos-joyed every opportunity of observing the society it is sessed, he cried out, as he gasped for breath, Garritt, man, what are you about sitting there, when Judith's wedding is going on? The priest is bespoke; and unless you have some life in yer heels, the Lameter will have her before an hour!' his object to criticise. If the fact were otherwise-if the count were a mere bookmaker, who described at second-hand, the contest would have little interest for the spectator; but as it is, there is a certain equality in the literary warfare, which satisfies our notions of fairplay; and as we watch the parties, we feel as if we were umpire in the contest. 6 Garritt waited not to answer this astounding news; but he had life in his heels for once, for, like an arrow from a bow, away shot Garritt down one hill and up the next, and never halted until he arrived at the gate: The career of a young English woman in India, Count a friend awaited him there, who told him that he was de Warren tells us, is a tragi-comic sort of history;' not too late; he scarcely drew breath until he secured and, to prove the assertion, he traces her fortunes from Judith. It is impossible to describe the confusion the time she leaves England, where, it seems, she has which ensued after the disappearance of the two lovers; the younger females were not sorry that Garritt had grown up without portion, without connexions, withtaken the bride; but the uproar was great down stairs out beauty, and consequently without even the hope of when the men heard of it; for the noise they were an establishment.' These are grave charges at the outmaking prevented them from hearing Garritt, and no set. She is poor, plain, ungenteel-in short, an adven one had seen him passing up or down the stairs. They first called for the Lameter, and next for Judith's brother, * Journal, No. 164. turess; and in this desperate plight, all on a sudden there turns out to be somebody or other at Calcutta or Madras who will take charge of the consignment if she is sent out to them. The girl is of course in the seventh heaven; she has nothing to leave at home, and everything to look for abroad; and she sets sail, therefore, for the asylum that is offered her, 'full of health, of hope, and of gaiety, on a voyage of discovery in search of a husband.' . rance or her 'gentility,' to keep a khansamah, or male housekeeper, who is the greatest thief in the world. 'No concession is made to circumstances or to places. Even when travelling, the ladies will not abate one ribbon from their toilet. Change of climate-change of fortune-nothing will induce an Englishman to descend from his first style of living. He will live as he has lived; and when he is ruined, he will run into debt rather than submit to be poor, and live like a poor All this is denied by the reviewer. The age of dam- man.' The reviewer admits that there is some truth in sel-errantry, he says, is past. The greater number of this charge of extravagance; but denies that even a young ladies who embark for India on board our splen- ruined man necessarily finds his moneyless bride a did passenger ships, turn their faces towards the East, burden. 'We could point,' says he, to numberless because their home is there. Their legitimate protectors instances of regimental subalterns, who, having been reside in India, and they are but returning to the pa- involved before marriage, have, after a few years of rental roof, from which the circumstances of their posi- wedded life, extricated themselves, by prudence and tion have temporarily banished them. They do not good management, from their incumbrances, and yet often arrive in the country with very extravagant no- all the time kept up a much more respectable appeartions of the splendid establishments in store for them-ance than others who have been carelessly frittering or indeed with any very absorbing thoughts of the great away much larger sums.' He asserts that marriage is matter of matrimony at all.' The circumstances of by no means the business of young ladies; that they are their position' will be a mystery to some of our readers, in no hurry whatever; that they spend a reasonable and we must therefore explain, that children of Euro- time under their guardians' roofs; and that young pean parents do not thrive-indeed rarely live-in India gentlemen do not think any worse of them for having after a certain age. It is necessary to send them home, learned one class of domestic duties before they address to have their constitution strengthened, or formed, by themselves to the study of another.' He admits, howtheir ancestral climate; and they are seldom recalled till ever, that India does not improve their aspect' (the they have grown up into young lads or young women. count's charge is, that it makes them yellow), but hints But what strikes us as a terrible omission on the part that the men do not look upon beauty as consisting in of the reviewer, is his passing over, without remark, rosy cheeks or plump proportions: or if they do,' adds the charge of plainness. No; we will not think this an he philosophically, why, it is assuredly much better, as omission. It is contemptuous silence. It is a disdain- the roses must fade and the plumpness dwindle, that ing to reply to an imputation too obviously and extra- this distressing change should take place before, and vagantly false for serious refutation. As for his gra- not after, marriage.' tuitous remark upon the slight hold which the subject of matrimony takes upon a young girl's imagination, we confess we have some doubts; but the truth is, neither he nor any other individual of our sex has the least right to venture even upon a surmise about the matter. The adventuress, however, has arrived in Calcutta, and looks around her for what, according to Count de Warren, she has come-a husband. 'Assuredly she will not have any difficulty in finding one; she will only be embarrassed by the number she may choose fromold and young, civil and military, patrician and plebeian; from the old general with his periodical bilious attacks and his parchment visage, which has not perspired for the last ten years, for the sun has sucked out all the moisture, to the young red-and-white ensign, who makes eyes at them whilst he wipes off the large drops that roll down his forehead. She is scarcely landed, before, in the very first fortnight, she is overwhelmed with offers of marriage. The poor young creature is so stunned with the flatteries which buzz in her ears, that at length her poor little head, never one of the strongest, is completely turned. She begins to think that she really possesses all the perfections which are attributed to her; and she is told so often that she is an angel, that she knows not how to limit her pretensions in the great matter of the établissement. The aunt preaches to her, morning and night, against lowering herself by condescending to dance with any one under the rank of a first-class civilian, or an officer of high standing, in the enjoyment of a fat appointment, who can bestow on his bride thrice indispensable things, and which in India are considered necessary for the happiness of conjugal life; namely, a silver teapot, a palanquin with a set of bearers, for visits by day, and a buggy for the evening drive.' Count de Warren's opinion of the manners of his adventuresses is not very favourable:- As for the women with whom one has to dine and to talk, nothing can be more silly or more scandalous than the conversation to which one is condemned. It is not that they want mind or capacity-they are generally better educated than our own women-but it is that detestable fashion, which compels you always to view them through an odious medium. An English lady, showing her ability to converse on serious subjects with a man of merit, incurs the risk of being taunted as a savante-a blue-stocking; the greatest injury that can be inflicted upon her. It is becoming in her to appear offended if you talk rather seriously about politics or literature; but she will call forth all her eloquence, and never halt, whilst she favours you with all the details of the nursing, the weaning, and the physicking of her children; or, better still, pulls to pieces the reputations of her neighbours. The position of the young married women is still more deplorable. They have to choose between two evils-an affectation of ignorance on the one side, impossible after all they have read, from their very infancy, in unmutilated (non châtiées) editions of the Bible, or an abandonment of the most enticing, the most "romping" description. The one class appear to be astonished at everything, ever returning for answer the everlasting words, “oh dear me!" the other throwing themselves at the heads of all the men, with a prodigal display of loud talking and loud laughing in the worst possible taste.' On this subject the reviewer remarks, that young ladies from England pretty nearly resemble young ladies in England; that there is more domesticity in Indian life than formerly; that ladies are, for the most part, to be seen at home happy, contented, amiable; and that they are very skilful in adapting their conversation to the supposed calibre of their hearers-a circumstance which may account, he hints, for the views adopted by the count. Failing in all efforts to make a desirable match, we are told by the count that the lady all-forlorn' at length goes pretendedly for the sake of her health to a distant station, and there marries a poor subaltern. But now we have the ladies at dinner. If you are a A marriage like this is of course unfortunate. The Frenchman, you will be thunderstruck at the enormous wife has no domestic habits, no knowledge of house-quantity of beer and wine absorbed by these young keeping; and instead of getting her husband's affairs English ladies, in appearance so pale and delicate. into some sort of order, and introducing economy into could scarcely recover from my astonishment at seeing his establishment, she compels him, either by her igno- my fair neighbour quietly dispose of a bottle and a half I |