a decayed oak,

"dry and dead,

Even

Still clad with reliques of its trophies old, Lifting to heaven its aged hoary head, Whose foot on earth hath got but feeble hold”–

-even such a tree as Spenser has thus described is strikingly beautiful: decay in this case looks pleasing. To such an oak Lucan compared Pompey in his declining state.

ENGLISH WOMEN.

Nothing could be more easy than to prove, in the reflected light of our literature, that from the period of our Revolution to the present time, the education of women has improved among us as much, at least, as that of men. In every age since that of Charles II., English women have been better educated than their mothers. For much of this progress we are indebted to Addison. Since the Spectator set the example, a great part of our lighter literature, unlike that of the preceding age, has been addressed to the sexes in common: whatever language could shock the car of woman, whatever sentiment could sully her purity of thought, has been gradually expunged from the far greater and better portion of our works of imagination and taste; and it is this growing refinement and delicacy of expression, throughout the last century, which prove, as much as anything, the increasing number of female readers, and the increasing homage which has been paid to the better feelings of their sex.

EXTRAORDINARY INVENTION.

An ingenious hat-maker has recently taken out a patent which, so far as we can judge of its meaning, far surpasses in absurdity even any that has yet been enrolled. He proposes to recover the spirits which have been employed in dissolving the gums used in "stiffening hats, hat bodies, bonnets, caps, and divers articles of merchandize, and converting such spirits (after rectification) into use, by sub

STATE OF EDUCATION IN THE SOUTH

OF FRANCE.

The number of young men at Lyons who were twenty years of age in 1827 was 835, of whom 285 could write and read, 329 read only, and 221 neither write nor read. In the rest of the department, of 1,919 young men of twenty who were examined, 787 could write and read, 139 could read only, and 993 could neither write nor read.

MANUFACTURES IN FRANCE.

It appears from a French paper, that the broadcloth manufactures in France have fallen off considerably. In 1825 there were six hundred cloth manufacturers in Elbeuf and its environs: there are now only four hundred. At Louviers, within the last three years, two-thirds of the clothmanufacturers have disappeared; and at Sedan the number is reduced onehalf.

FEMALE PORTRAITS.

Portraits of the most celebrated Beauties of all Nations is announced by Messrs. Longman and Co., under the superintendence of Mr. Alaric Watts. It is to consist of a series of portraits of the most beautiful and celebrated women of all nations, from an early period in the history of portrait-painting to the present time, with Biographical Notices; and comprise some of the finest specimens of Leonardo da Vinci, Raffaello, Holbein, Giorgione, Tintoretto, Titian, Sir Antonio More, Paul Veronese, Guido, Rubens, Velasquez, Vandyck, Mignard, Rembrandt, Murillo, Sir Peter Lely, Kneller, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Romney, David, Opie, Harlowe, and several of the most distinguished painters of the present day. For the sake of variety of style and costume, a chronological arrangement will be avoided; so that it is not improbable that the first Number may contain portraits by Titian, Guido, Mignard, Vandyck, and Sir Thomas Lawrence.

WE have all heard or read of a poor ass, which pined away in melancholy mood between two hay-ricks, because he found it impossible to decide whether the dexter or sinister mound was most worthy to be saluted by the first bite. They both shed their balmy fragrance upon the air, and each pouted out its tempting sides with an equality of beauty and curve marvellously perplexing. Poor fellow; there he stood, ruminating upon the point of etiquette, a subject upon which your genuine donkey studieth much, and acquireth strange and intricate notions. The sight must have been most moving and most melancholy to any of our species who might have beheld him in his embarrassment.

We have, however, great doubts whether there ever existed so stupid a four-legged ass upon the face of the earth. But, supposing the tale to be really true, we could find it in our beart much more easy to commiserate with such an ass as this, than with those of our own species, who, surrounded by a thousand sources of joy and comfort, and having well-known and unperformed duties, are ever exclaiming, "What's to be done?" The most delicious clover that ever was raked together by the blooming nymphs of the valley, never afforded so exquisite a treat to long-eared quadruped, as man experiences when conscious that he hath not left undone those things which he knows he is bound to perform. His mind is then

46 ATHENEUM, VOL. 2, 3d series.

filled with joy, and gladness, and gratitude, and praise. Light are his slumbers; and his dreams are soothing and airy as the flutterings and warblings of the feathered songsters of the woods. The whole creation hath then for him a new, and pure, and glorious charm; and he seemeth to have a feeling, as far as in this frail and ephemeral state he may be able, of "Good-will on earth and peace toward man." There is not one among the innumerable comforts which man enjoys, that doth not acquire a double zest from such reflections.

But no-he gazeth listlessly upon his duties, and neglecteth them till they either accumulate, or, by perpetually recu..ng to his mind, they seem to address him in the language of reproach; and then he endeavors to avoid or forget them, for the present, by engaging, with feigned avidity, in schemes of idle folly or miscalled pleasure; or saunters, grovelling on, with his feelings benumbed, into the paths of apathy and dreaming procrastination. Alas! this is no imaginary picture. Well do we remember the worthy Dr. Smithers, who was the rector of a village scarcely a mile from the small town whereat we were first bewildered in the mazes of Greek verbs. He was a good man withal, and truly he might well be called a gentle man, for "he bore his faculties so meekly," that he would not, by any act of his, have given pain

to a worm; but he seemed ever to be in perplexity, and inquiring "What was to be done?"

" November skies were chill and drear," when the weak, though really worthy couple, were sitting by their fireside, and Mrs. Smithers addressed her spouse," Really, my dear Charles, it's high time that we settled what's to be done with the boy. He's now near sixteen, and yet"

"Ah! I know what you would say," yawned the prebendary, for so high up what he sometimes hoped should be the episcopal ladder had the good man climbed, "I have often thought of it. Charles, you know, my dear, is no common youth, or it would be easy to dispose of him. But, I have several plans in my head-I have been thinking-yes-let me see -Well, just at present-I hardly know what's to be done-however"and thus he would go on prosing for some half hour or so, with the kind intention of satisfying his wife's mind by what he said; yet most especially bewildered within himself, and continually thinking, "What's to be done?"

He had thought proper, on taking possession of his prebend, which was in fact little better than a nominal honor, to take his doctor's degree, and consequently became a marked character in our thinly-populated neighborhood. The advancement of one grade in society was gratifying to him, not so much perhaps on his own account as on that of his daughter and his son Charles; and, though last not least, because his dear Emilia looked with most benign complacency upon his well-powdered wig. Well do we remember it, and the awe with which it inspired us in our boyish days. It was a full-blown caxon, one of the last of the cauliflowers; and might be seen, surmounted by a most orthodox "fire-shovel" hat, moving to and fro about the little market-town above the doctor's slender figure, which, supposing the wig to have been really one of Flora's sportive productions, might well have represented the stalk thereof.

The whole neighborhood was delighted when the Doctor's promotion was made known; for he was a general favorite, and never suspected to have been unduly puffed up by his new dignity save once, and that was upon the occasion of his walking into the "County Ball" room with his wife hanging upon his arm, followed by his daughter Emilia and the aforesaid Charles. It was a proud day for the good man, for the great ones of the land thronged around him, and offered their congratulations; and the son of the Lord Lieutenant danced with Emilia; and anon there came about him, and were introduced unto him, some odd dozen of people, who either remembered him at Oxford, or had met him at Squire Smith's, Brown's, Jones's, or Robinson's. Then was the Doctor sensible that he had become a "lion," and he felt that there was an opening made for the way of his children in the world, and his fond paternal heart leaped within him for joy, and he resolved, in every possible way, to avail himself of every advantage in his power for the welfare of those so dear to him. So, when he got home, he sate himself down seriously to consider "What was to be done?"

Weeks and months rolled on, but he had come to no decision. Indeed, it was unlikely that he should, seeing that dreams and visionary hopes and wishes were all that occupied his fancy, and could form no solid basis whereon to commence his plans. In this dilemma he consulted our uncle, a military man, who retained to the last that decision and energy of character so essential in his profession, and of which the Doctor stood so wofully in need.

"What's to be done!" exclaimed the veteran, repeating the words with which his reverend friend concluded what he meant to be a distinct explanation of his hopes, expectations, resources, &c. "What's to be done! I'll tell you what's to be done. Send your boy to college as soon as he can be admitted. Neither you nor I are