She did not forget him quite, and often some trifling object or event would serve to renew her grief. But at other times she could sit and smile, pleased and contented, as though that sharp sorrow of bereavement had never been felt. The brothers and sisters had each other still-the fair betrothed had another lover-the mother had many sons-the dog had but one master. Fond and faithful to the end, with constancy that knew no change, that dumb creature's cold vigils on the stone at Brussels put evermore to shame our vaunted human love.

IT'S NOT FAIR.

THE following piece of drollery is extracted from 'The Bairnsla Foaks' an' Fogmoor Olmenack, for 1847, be Tom Treddlehoyle, Esq.'-an almanac in one of the provincial dialects of England, and therefore a curiosity in its way :'It's not fair for a chap to cry "cockles alive," when at the same time he naws thare all deead.

It's not fair, when onny boddy goaze to a grocer's shop ta bye coffee, and thay gie em it hauf chickory an mahogony sawdust.

It's not fair, when you goa for a stoan a flaar at hauf a craan, an they gie yo that at two an tuppance.

It's not fair, when you goa for hauf an ance a bacca, an thay weigh't paper we it.

It's not fair for a chap at sells milk, to goa tut pump before he goaze tut cah. It's not fair, when a woman goaze to buy a bit a tea, te hev sloe leaves an black-lead amang it.

It's not fair for a dressmacker to put folks off, be sayin at thave sum mournin cum in, when at same time thave

nowt at soart.

It's not fair, when a bairn goaze tut public-hause for a penarth a yist, an't landlord or't landlady tells it they hey noan ta spare, cos it father duzant goa an drink thear. It's not fair for a chap at macks hats, ta print or write "waterproof" it insides on em, when at same time he

naws at thale run like a riddle.

It's not fair for a womman at goaze ta bye butter, ta scrape abit we hur thum-nail off a ivvery hauf paund

homast at thear iz it market.

It's not fair for gentlefoaks, when thay want a job doing, to hurry it be sayin at thave sum cumpany cummin, when

at same time thav nowt at soart.

It's not fair for a chap at's ridein in a railway carriage, ta hev't windaz hoppand and shut just as heeze a mind. It's not fair for a womman ta goa into a linen-draper's shop, an, after looking an tummalin ivverything ovver at thear iz it plaice nearly, goa aught wethaught beyein owt. It's not fair for a chap ta hoist hiz umbrella aghtside a coach on a rainy day, an spaaght watter inta uther foak's neck hoyles.

It's not fair for a docktor to goa tut cherch or chappil, an leave word for him ta be fetch't aght it middle at sarvice, when he naws he izant wanted.

It's not fair, when a man or womman leaves a cumpany, for them ats left ta backbite abaght am.

It's not fair, when you go into a barber's shop to be shaived, te hev yer noaze-hoyles stopt up we lather, or hev yer chin cut.

It's not fair ta bid onny boddy a good mornin, an at same time not mean it.

It's not fair for a tailor allas ta want as much cloath for a little man as he duz for a big un.'

A lady suggests to us that there is one 'It's not fair' omitted, and she requests us to supply it.

It's not fair, when you buy a reel of cotton, to find that, except a little thread on the outside, all the rest is wood.

MANX SUPERSTITION.

The Manx place great reliance on fire protecting them from the influence of evil spirits. Not a family in the whole island, of natives, but keeps a fire constantly burning, no one daring to depend on his neighbour's vigilance in a thing which he imagines of so much importance, and every one firmly believing that, if it should ever happen that no fires were to be found throughout the island, the most terrible revolutions and mischiefs would immediately ensue.Train's Isle of Man.

HAPPINESS.

As in the sun the dewy violet trembles,
Trembles my spirit now with joy's excess,
So deep, that pain itself it nigh resembles,
Brimming with wordless, tearful happiness.
Oh let the incense of a thankful heart
Ascend to Heaven, as perfume from the flower,
That, seeing winter's shadow grim depart,
Lifts up its head unto the sun and shower;
Yet not forgetting, in the soft spring days,

The storms and frosts through which it safe has past; Wearing life out in glad and loveful praise,

And calmly sinking down to earth at last, Having its course fulfilled. Oh, then, may I Thus thankful, hopeful live, and thus contented die! D. M. M.

THE EDUCATION WHICH HALLOWS EXISTENCE. A man is not to be considered as educated because some years of his life have been spent in acquiring a certain proficiency in the language, history, and geography of Greece and Rome, and their colonies, or in bestowing a transient attention on the principles of mathematics and natural philosophy; nor is a woman to be considered as educated brilliant style, or speak French, German, or Italian with because she can execute a difficult piece of music in a fluency. Such attainments require little more than mere

mechanical recollection-the lowest of all the cerebral facul

ties; or the rapid transmission of an impulse from the sensitive optic nerve to the motor ones of the arms and fingers, which is nothing better than the instinctive movement of the animal; neither can the storing up the opinions of others, or the accustoming the tongue to the idioms of other languages, be properly termed an act of thought; for in such cases the capacity of combining ideas, of weighing and judging ere a course of action is adopted, remains even less exercised than in those who, though they are turned into the world with the mind, as it were, a tabula yet amid the difficulties and sufferings of poverty, somerasa to receive any impression, and too frequently a bad one, times learn to think. It is from the depths of man's interior life that he must draw what separates him from the brute, and hallows his animal existence; and learning is material to be separated and worked up in the intellectual no farther valuable than as it gives a quantity of raw laboratory, till it comes forth as new in form, and as increased in value, as the porcelain vase which entered the manufactory in the shape of metallic salts, clay, and sand. -Connection between Physiology and Intellectual Philosophy.

THE SPIDER'S THREAD.

That any creature could be found to fabricate a net, not less ingenious than that of the fisherman, for the capture of its prey; that it should fix it in the right place, and then patiently await the result, is a proceeding so strange, that, if we did not see it done daily before our eyes by the common house-spider and garden-spider, it would seem wonderful. But how much is our wonder increased when we think of the complex fabric of each single thread, and then of the mathematical precision and rapidity with which, in certain cases, the net itself is constructed; and to add to all this, as an example of the wonders which the most common things exhibit when carefully examined, the net of the garden-spider consists of two distinct kinds of silk. The threads forming the concentric circles are composed of a silk much more elastic than that of the rays, and are studded over with minute globules of a viscid gum, sufficiently adhe sive to retain any unwary fly which comes in contact with it. A net of average dimensions is estimated by Mr Blackwall to contain 87,360 of these globules, and a large net of fourteen or sixteen inches in diameter, 120,000; and yet such a net will be completed by one species (Eperia apoclica) in about forty minutes, on an average, if no interruption occurs!-Introduction to Zoology.

Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold by D. CHAMBERS, 98 Miller Street, Glasgow; W. 8. ORR, 147 Strand, and Amen Corner, London; and J. M'GLASHAN, 21 D'Olier Street, Dublin.-Printed by W. and R. CHAMBERS, Edinburgh.

Emaciated in mind, corrupted, and subservient, they no longer showed a vestige of their ancient national character; and, deserted by the Roman power, which had coddled them to their ruin, they became a defenceless

It is a very different thing when an invading host retires after it has inflicted its first dread blow, and leaves the country in a subjugated and denationalised condition. From that instant the people, no longer permitted, or called on, to think decisively for themselves, become gradually emaciated in mind-etiolated. Their noble faculties wither and die, while subserviency, and many base and pitiful passions, take their place. By far the greater number of conquests have been of this permanently - ruinous character. The Romans always adopted the plan of leaving their conquered countries in the charge of servants delegated from headquarters; at one period they had as many as twenty large states tributary to their treasury, and undergoing this dismal process of demoralisation; each state, the longer it was kept, sinking the deeper into a condition of mental imbecility. Readers of history will here call to mind the character of the Britons at the final departure of the Romans, after four centuries of tutelage. From having been a courageous and active-minded race, they had become altogether poor-spirited, and incapable of planning any means of defence or self-government. Such was the abjectness of their situation, that they earnestly implored the Romans to remain for their protection. Stay, oh stay, to think, to act, to do for us.' A group of children left to shift for themselves could not have presented a more piteous spectacle of incapacity; and the Britons on this occasion were really deserving of pity. They could not be blamed for being etiolated. During four hundred years, a period of at least eight generations, they had, from father to son, never been allowed to interfere in public affairs. The Romans had managed everything, according to orders received by letters from Rome, or agreeably to certain laws, of which the Britons had no distinct knowledge, and for which they could entertain no respect. Driven almost out of their weakened senses by the refusal of the Romans to stay or come back to help them, and suffering from the vengeful incursions of the Scots and Picts, they sent an invitation to the Saxons to condescend to come and take charge of them. Never did mendicant pen so humble a petition. The following are the words, as given by a cotemporary historian of some credit:-The poor and distressed Britons, almost worn out by hostile invasions, and harassed by continual incursions, are humble suppliants to you, most valiant Saxons, for succour. We are possessed of a wide, extended, and a fertile country; this we yield wholly, to be at your devotion and command. Beneath the wings of your valour we seek for safety, and shall willingly undergo whatever services you may hereafter be pleased to impose.' What a picture! England crying, Come, take me!' Poor etiolated Britons! We hope things were quite settled to your minds when Hengist and Horsa put brass collars round your necks, and sold you, as an article of commerce, at so much a dozen!

As the unfortunate Britons on this occasion passed under the yoke of the Saxons, so did the Greeks about the same period, and from precisely the same cause, sink under the thraldom of kindred Gothic tribes.

which had cost the Romans two hundred years to conquer, drop with comparative ease into the hands of the Goths. Four centuries as a led-farm of Rome had taken away all pith from its mental composition. And so likewise with Gaul, and other Roman dependencies. Of almost every one of them the same sorrowful tale may be told. They all went on well enough so long as their Roman masters held them in charge; but no sooner had the pro-consular governments been withdrawn, in consequence of a general derangement of affairs at home, than each submitted itself to the keeping of tribes of energetic intruders. According to the accounts of historians, the Roman provinces became the prey of Teutonic races, in consequence of an effeminacy of manners introduced from Rome, and also from the East. Historians, in presenting this reason for the dismemberment of the Roman empire, wrote according to the philosophy of their times. A better knowledge of social economics, and of the working of the human faculties, now tells us that luxury and refinement are not always causes of national degeneracy. Rude conquerors, abandoning themselves to unaccustomed indulgences, will no doubt lose their original character, as was the case with the invaders of Italy. The same explanation, however, will not suit the class of cases to which we allude. In these, the primary source of ruination, as I apprehend, lay in the emaciation of the people's minds, from lack of proper exercise. Kept in a state of tutelage, and disheartened by conquest, their nobler faculties were repressed, and only the meaner class of feelings and appetites found scope for indulgence. Hence the universal ruin which ensued on the withdrawal of the Romans. The parallel was everywhere complete. In all the countries which that great nation acquired by conquest, there was finally found a meanspirited, shuffling, and slavish population. Jew, Greek, Spaniard, Gaul, and Briton were all alike modified by differences of race. Every one of them was less or more etiolated. There can be nothing more clear, from the uniformity of these facts, than that delegated national managements are invariably demoralising, and effect more permanently-disastrous results than the first crash of rapine and military conquest.

As the world now stands, it would not be difficult to select countries suffering under an enfeebled state of intellect chiefly from the influence of despotic or delegated managements, both equally overshadowing and injurious. What example more remarkable than that offered by the whole of modern Germany. From this vast region issued the great and impetuous hordes which overran the Roman provinces, and imparted a solid foundation to many European states. After a lapse of fourteen hundred years since the occurrence of these events, we in vain seek for a remnant of the valour, once the terror of the world. Fruitless would be the search for the slightest resemblance between the ancient Suevi, Alemanni, Saxons, Vandals, Lombards, Franks, and other great Teutons-the races, in short, among whom our own liberties were cradled— and the etiolated modern German nations. First subdued by Charlemagne, himself a Frank, and afterwards, in detached portions, passing under the thraldom of his less magnanimous successors, they have finally shrunk into insignificance, and been lost to honourable European

history-a hundred millions of people in a state of tutelage, stifling the recollection of a great name in the fumes of an odious narcotic, heard talking of liberty only at inglorious tavern brawls, and with every action watched over and regulated by a crew of moustached barbarians. Such is Germany, only the less etiolated because of its naturally vigorous mental constitution. How humiliating the spectacle which greeted the sight a few years ago in the 'free' city of Frankfort cannons loaded with grape-shot pointing down the main street, and ready to be fired by a mixed Prussian and Austrian guard. An incomparable receipt this for national etiolation.

If desirous of seeing a few living specimens of mental deterioration, arising in no small degree from delegated management, the late Spanish dependencies in Central America will at once present themselves to our imagination. In these distant possessions the native races were barbarously annihilated, and the tributary states were peopled entirely by adventurers from the mother country. These settlers were by no means of inactive mental habits, and yet their descendants in Mexico and elsewhere have latterly proved their incompetency for independent national management. Ruled for centuries by a deputed and despotic authority, their attempts at self-government are among the most laughable things in modern history. Ignorant, idle, and quarrelsome, they would appear to be only waiting for a transatlantic Hengist and Horsa to put collars round their necks. And considering the manifold iniquities of their ancestors, who can pity them? Who also can entertain the smallest compassion for Spain, in this instance the great head-quarters of transgression? How startling for the present age to be called on to witness the punishment of outrages committed centuries ago by Cortes on the unoffending Montezuma !

Carrying our eye northwards along the American continent, we are presented with a lesson of another kind. Seventy years ago, Britain owned a number of dependencies facing the Atlantic, the seat of a peaceful and industrious population. Governed on the led-farm principle, there cannot be a doubt that the inhabitants would in time have become etiolated, and unfit for any independent line of action. A strange piece of mismanagement, however, on the part of the mother country saved them from this disaster. One day in the year 1764, an aged military gentleman presented himself to an assembly of notables in these distant settlements, and communicated orders to the following effect, in answer to certain remonstrances previously sent to the mother country-In the first place,' proceeded he, you, the people of this led-farm, are not in future to buy any article of manufacture whatsoever from any country but England. Secondly, you are not to sell any of your produce to any country but England. Thirdly, all the articles you buy from England shall pay a tax before you get them. Fourthly, you are not to manufacture a single article yourselves, in order that English tradesmen may not be cheated of your cash. Fifthly, these, and all other arrangements, according to statute made and provided, must be submitted to without inquiry or interference; for, gentlemen, it is my duty to tell you that you have literally nothing to do with the laws but to obey them.' This oration, though uttered with all the becoming dignity of a courtier, and although followed by an inspiring anthem from a regimental band, failed to have that weight which the venerable and too-confiding speaker anticipated. Those addressed had been for some time in

the course of etiolation, but not being much gone in the disease, they took upon them to resist the proposed arrangements as unconstitutional. A good deal of haranguing, brawling, and fighting ensued; and the end of it was, that the aforesaid notables never stopped till they had turned out of the country all the old colonels and broken-down men of fortune who had been sent to govern and etiolate them. After that, the people bought and sold as they liked, manufactured what they liked, and managed their public concerns as they liked. Thus was insolence properly punished.

Without feeling any very decided prepossession in favour of the descendants of these contumacious Americans, it is impossible not to see that their minds are anything but etiolated. Two or three of the neighbouring states, which accidentally continued as led-farms at the great upbreak, have to all appearance got far into the etiolated condition: but beyond the early stages of the disease the Americans never went; and if anything be wrong with them now, it is an over, not an under, activity of brain. I repeat they may not be a people with many qualities to be admired; but, considering what they have done in seventy years, merely from being left to the untrammelled exercise of their own faculties, they may be allowed to have some grounds for boasting. In these seventy years, they have achieved greater things than they could possibly have attained in a thousand under the deadening influences to which they were originally exposed. How fortunate for human progress, how fortunate for Great Britain, their escape from etiolation!

Was it fortunate for us? No historical event was ever more so. Nations conducted at a distance, and under delegated management, cannot, in the nature of things, fulfil the ambitious desires of their owners. Providence would seem to have set a limit to the capacity of hired service, in order to check inordinate aggrandisement. Were it otherwise, the world would long since have realised the idea of universal empire. An Alexander, a Charlemagne, or a Napoleon, would have been king of all the kingdoms of the earth. The dishonesty, however, the petty selfishnesses, and other failings of delegated servants, not to speak of the varying contingencies of human affairs, will ever prevent this catastrophe. But, independently of these preventives, there is one which in itself would keep all extravagant expectations in check; and that is, the prescriptive burden which every nation imposes on itself, by dishonestly attempting to make another nation pay it tribute, either in the form of direct money contributions, or in a forced and unnatural course of trade.

A judicious father of a family endeavours to cultivate a power of self-reliance in his children; and having done his duty in this respect, he leaves them to themselves when the proper time arrives for their setting up on their own account. After this, the relationship is one of affection only. Why should nations act differently with respect to their conquests or offshoots? The true course of policy for nations of the paternal order, should consist in getting their dependencies as quickly as possible into a condition for managing their own affairs on a principle of growing nationality and independence; while their treatment of them in other respects ought to be of that generous and confiding nature which would leave on both sides a feeling of affectionate relationship. And all this, not because it would be best on economical grounds, but because it is preferable from moral and ulterior considerations. Nations should learn that they are not, any more than individuals, ex

empted from the obligation of acting honestly and disinterestedly; that they cannot outrage natural and fixed laws without incurring the penalties of transgression.

Again, in closing these tableaux, does that terrible spectre, IRELAND, rise to oppress the imagination. What a noble country might it not have been, if exposed to a different course of circumstances since the period when it shone a star of light in an age of medieval darkness! But regrets are now vain. All the Archæologist can do, is to wander amidst its glorious ruins, and search for traces of a refinement which centuries ago was laid ruthlessly in the dust. And must he not, in performing this classic and mournful pilgrimage, ponder on the transgressions of his ancestors, and fear that the sins of the fathers will be visited on the children even unto the present remote and guiltless generation? If such be the doom, what an ending to an ignoble chapter of history-the most stupendous example of retributive justice which the mind of the moralist could conceive! An everlasting marriage of Intelligence to Imbecility -Truth to Falsehood-Industry to Sloth-Peace to Turbulence-Riches to Beggary-Life to Death! Let us drop the curtain, and hide the appalling spectacle. Not so, however, can we extinguish that maniac shout whose echoes linger dolefully in our ears-'Why did you take me?-why did you keep me?-why did you demoralise me, and unfit me for self-reliance? Now that my mind is gone, and I am in a state of idiocy, I shall cling-cling-cling to you for ever!'

W. C.

A STORY FOR A WINTER FIRESIDE.
BY MRS CROWE.

ONE evening on which a merry Christmas party was assembled in an hospitable country mansion in the north of England, one of the company, a young man named Charles Lisle, called the host aside, as they were standing in the drawing-room before dinner, and whispered, I say, Graham, I wish you'd put me into a room that has either a bolt or a key.'

'They have all keys, or should have,' returned Mr Graham.

The key of my room is lost,' returned the other; I asked the housemaid. It is always the first thing I look to when I enter a strange bedchamber. I can't sleep unless the door is locked."

'How very odd! I never locked my door in my life,' said Mr Graham. I say, Letitia,' continued he, addressing his wife, here's Charlie Lisle can't sleep unless his door's locked, and the room you've put him into has no key.'

At this announcement all the ladies looked with surprise at Charlie Lisle, and all the gentlemen laughed; and how odd!' and what a strange fancy!' was echoed among them.

6

'I daresay you do think it very odd, and indeed it must appear rather a lady-like particularity,' responded Lisle, who was a fine active young man, and did not look as if he were much troubled with superfluous fears; 'but a circumstance that occurred to me when I was on the continent last summer has given me a nervous horror of sleeping in a room with an unlocked door, and I have never been able to overcome it. This is perhaps owing to my having been ill at the time, and I can scarcely say I have recovered from the effects of that illness yet.'

Naturally, everybody wanted to hear what this adventure was the programme being certainly exciting and so one of the visitors offered to exchange rooms with Charlie Lisle, provided he would tell them his story; which accordingly, when assembled round the fire in the evening, he began in the following words:

-

'You must know, then, that last year, when I was wandering over the continent, partly in search of the picturesque, and partly to remedy the effects of too much study, or rather too hasty study-for I believe a take it easy, as the Irish say I was surprised one man may study as much as he pleases, if he will only evening by a violent storm of hail, and it became so suddenly dark, that I could scarcely see my horse's head. I had twelve miles to go to the town at which I intended to pass the night, and I knew that there was no desirable shelter nearer, unless I chose to throw myself on the hospitality of the monastery of Pierre Châtel, which lay embosomed amongst the hills a little to the romantic and interesting in a residence at a convent, east of the road I was travelling. There is something but of that I need not now say anything. After a short mental debate, I resolved to present myself at the convent gate, and ask them to give me a night's shelter. So I turned off the road, and rang the heavy bell, which was answered by a burly, rosycheeked lay brother, and he forthwith conducted me He to the prior, who was called the Père Jolivet. some time on politics and the affairs of the world; and received me very kindly, and we chatted away for when the brothers were summoned to the refectory, I begged leave to join them, and share their simple repast, instead of eating the solitary supper prepared for me. There were two tables in the hall, and I was seated next the prior, in a situation that gave me a pretty good view of the whole company, and as I cast my eyes round to take a survey of the various countenances, they were suddenly arrested by one that struck me as

about the most remarkable I had ever beheld. From the height of its owner as he sat, I judged he must be a very tall man, and the high round shoulders gave an idea of great physical strength; though at the same time the whole mass seemed composed of bone, for there was very little muscle to cover it. The colour of his great coarse face was of an unnatural whiteness, and the rigid immobility of the features favoured the idea that the man was more dead than alive. There was altogether something so remarkable in his looks, that I could with difficulty turn my eyes from him. My fixed gaze, I imagine, roused some emotions within him, for he returned my scrutiny with a determined and terrific glare. If I forced myself to turn away my head for a moment, round it would come again, and there were his two great mysterious eyes upon me; and that stiff jaw slowly and mechanically moving from side to side, as he ate his supper, like something acted on by a pendulum. It was really dreadful: we seemed both bewitched to stare at each other; and I longed for the signal to rise, that I might be released from the strange fascination. This came at length; and though I had promised my self to make some inquiries of the prior concerning the owner of the eyes, yet not finding myself alone with him during the evening, I forbore, and in due time retired to my chamber, intending to proceed on my journey the following day. But when the morning came, I found myself very unwell, and the hospitable prior recommended me not to leave my bed; and finally, I was obliged to remain there not only that day, but many days-in short, it was nearly a month before I was well enough to quit the convent.

In the meantime, however, I had learnt the story of Brother Lazarus-for so I found the object of my curiosity was called; and had thereby acquired some idea of the kind of influence he had exercised over me. The window of the little room I occupied looked into the burying-place of the monastery; and on the day I first left my bed, I perceived a monk below digging a grave. He was stooping forward with his spade in his hand, and with his back towards me; and as my room was a good way from the ground, and the brothers were all habited alike, I could not distinguish which of them it was.

"You have a death amongst you?" said I to the prior when he visited me.