when it rejects tea; sometimes has a relish for soup or broth when it is disinclined to solid food. In the absence of much exercise it will be found absolutely necessary, to the maintenance of any thing like health, to vary the dishes. We should not be understood to mean that the inmates of a house of business should have luxuries, but merely that the nature and ingredients of their food should be occasionally changed. Great attention should be paid to the apartments where the girls sleep; these should be thoroughly ventilated and kept clean; the number of females sleeping in one room should not exceed four. A reform in many of these apparently insignificant matters would enhance greatly the comfort and alleviate the physical sufferings endured by the apprentice. Let those who are disposed to laugh at some of the above recommendations as frivolous, reflect that there is no circumstance so trifling as not to derive value from the consideration that it detracts from the misery of a fellow creature.

It is time to draw this article to a close, protracted already to a considerable length. Imperfect as it is in the catalogue of the evils it attempts to describe, and incomplete in the remedies it suggests, enough at least has been said to shew that the case is not altogether a hopeless one and incapable of amelioration. We would not conclude our remarks, however, without a few observations to the young milliner herself, as well as to the mistress who employs her. To the former we would say: "Remember you have duties to perform, as well as rights to assert; shew by

your conduct that you are not unworthy of the sympathies which have been enlisted in your behalf. Endeavour to win the confidence and approbation of your employer by doing the work allotted you in the best and neatest manner you can. Be as diligent in her absence as in her presence. Be meek and gentle in your temper; pay a ready obedience to her orders; if any indulgence is shewn you, do not abuse it; and above all, forget not your religious duties; they will not only brighten and cheer the gloom of your daily daily toil, but they will strengthen you against those temptations which will frequently be thrown in your way."

To the employer our advice is: "Reflect that it is no small responsibility you have undertaken. The future conduct and happiness of the young women under your charge depend in a great measure upon you. Do not consider that they are under your roof for the single purpose of assisting to make you rich. While you enforce a rigorous discipline in the work-room, neglect not entirely the moral discipline of their minds. In your treatment of them, let that golden rule of Christianity, 'Do ye unto others as ye would they should do unto you,' guide and direct you. And while you expect from them

steadiness of conduct and rectitude of principle, remember, that what we see makes a far more vivid impression upon us than what we hear, and that example is more powerful than precept. Let your pupils, for so they may be called, learn to look up to you as a model for their virtuous imitation, and respect you as a friend."

In a debate some few years ago in the House of Commons, Sir Robert Peel excited considerable merriment

by calling Lord Palmerston " a pure old Whig." The expression was felt to be an equivocal one. It might be taken as an ironical allusion to the ostentation with which the noble lord then paraded what he termed "Whig principles " before the House,-principles which he, at that time, adhered to with the tenacity, and propounded with the zeal, proverbial in recent converts; or, still in the same spirit of quizzing, the right honourable baronet might have meant to allude to the weight of authority which the noble lord added to any intrinsic truth there might be in the political views referred to; because, from the opportunities he has had of testing the opinions of other political parties of which he has, during his long life, been a member, his preference for "Whig principles" might be held to be the result of settled conviction. There was still another sense in which the sly humour which dictated the phrase might have designed it to apply to the noble lord.

The sexagenarian juvenility of Lord Palmerston has been the subject of much good-humoured raillery. The public are already sufficiently familiar with the somewhat stale jokes which the newspapers have for some time applied to the noble lord, because they have chosen to assume that he, more than most men, sacrifices to the Graces.

Lord

Palmerston is too respectable, both in talents and character, to be affected by such harmless nonsense; more especially as it is, in point of fact, founded on error. Nor should we here so particularly refer to the subject, but that not only in his outward man, but also in his mind, the noble lord certainly does reverse some of the usual laws of Nature. Although from early youth he has been, in some capacity or other, before the public, and, during the greater part

VOL. XXXIII. NO. CXCV.

of the time, in the service of the state, it is only of late years that he has "come out " either as a statesman or as an orator. Perhaps this may have arisen from constitutional indolence, yet the restless activity of his subsequent ministerial career almost forbids the assumption. It may have been because he did not desire to thrust himself prominently before the public while he still occupied a position in the senate, or filled situations in the government comparatively subordinate; but a reference to Hansard will shew that at no time was the noble lord deficient in a characteristic propensity for self-display, although his efforts in parliament for many years scarcely distinguished him from the ordinary herd of level speakers. Like the blossoming of the aloe, the parliamentary fruition of his genius, though long delayed, is marvellous. Few, indeed, are the men who, after passing through a youth and manhood of indifference, apathy, or, at the utmost, of persevering mediocrity, could, long after the middle age has passed, after the fire of life might be supposed to be almost exhausted, blaze out, like the sacred flame on the altar of the fire-worshipper, at the very moment of decay. In this respect, as in many others, Lord Palmerston is a puzzle. He has begun where most men end. Long passed over and forgotten by Fame, he suddenly recalls her, and arrests her in her flight, compelling her to trumpet forth his name. Not even recognised as a statesman, but classed among the Red Tapists; as a speaker ranked with the steady-paced humdrums; he was almost the very last man in the House of Commons on whom one would have fixed as being likely ever to rival Lord John Russell in the leadership of the Whig party. Suddenly, without apparent cause, without its being discovered that he had become possessed of the elixir of life, he astonished his contemporaries by

Y

soon as he could find breath to make any exclamation at all. "What have I been saying, or what have you been understanding all this while, Mrs. Proby? How vexatious, that I should have forgotten to inform you! though I thought you might have guessed that the wife I have in view is Mary Simpson!"

"Mary Simpson!" ejaculated, or rather shrieked out Mrs. Proby.

"Why, ay, Mary Simpson! who else should it be? Is there any thing so prodigiously wonderful in that? You surely could not for an instant conceive-pshaw! that would have been ridiculous, indeed!"

Thus saying, and eager to make his exit from a scene where he now sustained a very embarrassing part, he reached the door with more than the agility of a bridegroom, when, on his jerking it open, who should fall into his arms but the identical blooming Mary Simpson herself?

Struck by the very unusual length

of this morning's breakfast, and wondering wherefore the bell had summoned no one to clear the things away, she had come into the hall, and, hearing her own name pronounced in a very emphatic tone, was listening against the door, when Mr. Bradford suddenly opened it as described.

Here was a fine tableau vivant! all the finer and more natural for being quite an impromptu, since not all the previous study and rehearsing in the world could have got it up with such spirit and effect: the actors were all perfect in their parts. It is, however, far easier, as all novelwriters know, to get people into striking situations, than to get them out again naturally and cleverly. We shall not, on this occasion, attempt it, but leave the task of extricating Mary from her master's embrace, and all the parties from their awkward embarrassment, to the graphic imagination of our readers.

WHEN Waller was shewn some verses by the Duchess of Newcastle, On the Death of a Stug, he declared that he would give all his own compositions to have written them; and being charged with the exorbitance of his adulation, answered, "That nothing was too much to be given that a lady might be saved from the disgrace of such a vile performance." This was said by the courtly Waller of the thrice noble, illustrious, and excellent princess, as she calls herself, Margaret Lucas, the wife of the thrice noble, high, and puissant prince William Cavendish, duke, marquis, and earl of Newcastle. But the worth of all the poems by the Duchess of Newcastle is not to be tested by her poem on the death of the stag; nor should her abilities be looked meanly upon through the contemptuous smartness of a happy remark.*

Wit and satire have done much to keep her down. Pope has placed her

PEPYS.

works in the library of his Dunciad hero:

"Here swells the shelf with Ogilby the

great;

There, stamp'd with arms, Newcastle shines complete."

And Horace Walpole, a far inferior poet to the duchess, endeavoured to turn to ridicule, not the duchess only, but the duke-to do for the names of Cavendish and Lucas what he had attempted to do for Sydney and for Falkland. But Walpole, who affected a singularity of opinion, raised a laugh, and a laugh only; there is too much good sense in the duchess's writings, and too much to love about her character, to deprive her altogether of admirers. Charles Lamb delighted in her works; Sir Egerton Brydges shewed his respect for her genius by reprinting, at his private press, her own little, delightful autobiography, to which he appended a selection of her poems. And

Mr. Dyce, who has as much good taste as variety of knowledge, is too well acquainted with her writings to dislike them; and, fresh from "Greek and Latin stores," can yet return to her pages with renewed enjoyment, and lose nothing in a reperusal of the complete works of the Duchess of Newcastle.

As if certain that some day or other the curiosity of after-ages would be extended to her own personal history, the duchess drew up A True Relation of her Birth, Breeding, und Life-the too short but charming piece of autobiography we have already referred to. Her father was Sir Thomas Lucas, of St. John's, near Colchester, in Essex; her mother's maiden-name was Elizabeth Leighton. Margaret was born about the year 1626.

Of her brothers she says:-
:-

"There was not any one crooked or anyways deformed; neither were they dwarfish, or of a giant-like stature, but everyways proportionable, likewise wellfeatured, clear complexions, brown hairs, but some lighter than others; sound teeth, sweet breaths, plain speeches, tunable voices-I mean not so much to sing as in speaking, as not stuttering or wharling in the throat, or speaking through the nose, or hoarsely (unless they had a cold), or squeakingly, which impediments many have."

How they were bred," she continues, she was too young to recollect; "but this I know, that they loved virtue, endeavoured merit, practised justice, and spoke truth.” ...

"

Their practice was, when they met together, to exercise themselves with fencing, wrestling, shooting, and such-like exercises, for I observed they did seldom hawk or hunt, and very seldom or never dance, or play on music, saying it was too effeminate for masculine spirits; neither had they skill, or did use to play, for ought I could hear, at cards or dice, or the like games, nor given to any vice, as I did know, unless to love a mistress were a crime; not that I knew any they had, but what report did say, and usually reports are false, at least exceed the truth."

Of these brothers, one became the first Lord Lucas; the youngest was the Sir Charles Lucas, whose melancholy but heroic end is told so affectingly by Lord Clarendon. had," says his sister, "a superfluity of courage."

"He

Her own breeding, she says, was according to her birth and the nature of her sex. Her mother, of whom she speaks in the highest and most affectionate terms,―

"Never suffered the vulgar servingmen to be in the nursery amongst the nurse-maids, lest their rude love-making might do unseemly actions, or speak unhandsome words, in the presence of her children. As for the pastimes of my sisters," she says, and their pastimes were her own, "when they were in the country, it was to read, work, walk, and discourse with each other. Commonly they lived half the year in London. Their customs were, in winter time, to go sometimes to plays, or to ride in their coaches about the streets, to see the concourse and recourse of people; and, in the spring time, to visit the Spring Garden, Hyde Park, and the like places; and sometimes they would have music, and sup in barges upon the water; these harmless recreations they would pass their time away with; for, I observed, they did seldom make visits, nor ever went abroad with strangers in their company, but only themselves in a flock together; agreeing so well, that there seemed but one mind amongst them."

Margaret was a mere girl in her teens when she went to Oxford to become one of the maids of honour to Henrietta Maria; an office, she tells us, she had a great desire to fill, and to which she "wooed and won' her mother's consent to her seeking and accepting. But in the then disturbed state of the three countries, Oxford was not long a place for Henrietta; and the queen, accompanied by her youthful attendant, left, in 1643, the shores of England for the court of the French king. In April, 1645, for she has herself recorded the period, Margaret Lucas had the good fortune to see the Marquis of Newcastle for the first time. This nobleman, whose name for loyalty deserves to be proverbial, had come to Paris to tender his humble duty to the queen. The fight at Marston Moor, that ill-fated field to King Charles, had been fought some ten months before; and Newcastle,

seeing the utter hopelessness of the king's cause and the complete exhaustion of his own finances, had resigned his command, and retired to the Continent.

"And after," says the duchess, "he had stayed at Paris some time, he was pleased to take some particular notice of me, and express more than an ordinary affection for me; insomuch that he resolved to choose me for his second wife; and though I did dread marriage, and shunned men's companies as much as I could, yet I could not, nor had I the power to refuse him, by reason my affections were fixed on him, and he was the only person I ever was in love with. Neither was I ashamed to own it, but gloried therein, for it was not amorous love; I never was infected therewith; it is a disease, or a passion, or both I only know by relation, not by expe. rience: neither could title, wealth, power, or person, entice me to love; but my love was honest and honourable, being placed upon merit, which affection joyed at the fame of his worth, pleased with delight in his wit, proud of the respects he used to me, and the affection he profest for me." Having but two

sons," she says in another place, "he purposed to marry me, a young woman, that might prove fruitful to him, and increase his posterity by a masculine offspring. Nay, he was so desirous of male issue, that I have heard him say he cared not so God would be pleased to give him many sons, although they came to be persons of the meanest fortune; but God, it seems, had ordered it otherwise, and frustrated his designs by making me barren; which yet did never lessen his love and affection for me."

The widower of fifty-two prevailed with the fearful maiden of twenty-one, they were married.

"A poet am I neither born nor bred,

But to a witty poet married," she was wont to say in after life, and certainly the Marquis of Newcastle was not without pretensions to literature his comedies are bustling pieces of intrigue and wit, characteristic of his age, and very readable; at least we have found them so. His lyrical attempts are sad failures. He was the munificent patron and friend of Ben Jonson and Sir William Davenant, and lived long enough to succour Shadwell and befriend Dryden.

rage, and most accomplished in those qualities of horsemanship, dancing, and fencing, which accompany a good breeding, in which his delight was. Besides that he was amorous in poetry and music, to which he indulged the greatest part of his time; and nothing could have tempted him out of those paths of pleasure, which he enjoyed in a full and ample fortune, but honour and ambition to serve the king when he saw him in distress, and abandoned by most of those who were in the highest degree obliged to him and by him." "He liked," Cla

rendon adds, "the pomp and absolute authority of a general well, and preserved the dignity of it to the full; and for the discharge of the outward state and circumstances of it, in acts of courtesy, affability, bounty, and generosity, he abounded; which, in the infancy of a

war, became him, and made him, for some time, very acceptable to men of all conditions. But the substantial part and fatigue of a general he did not, in any degree, understand (being utterly unacquainted with war), nor could submit to, but referred all matters of that nature to the discretion of his lieutenant-general King, a Scotchman. In all actions of the field he was still present, and never absent in any battle; in all which he gave instances of an invincible courage and fearlessness in danger; in which the exposing himself notoriously did sometimes change the fortune of the day, when his troops begun to give ground. Such articles of action were no sooner over than he retired to his delightful company, music; or his softer pleasures, to all which he was so indulgent; and to his ease, that he would not be interrupted upon what occasion soever; insomuch as be sometimes denied admission to the chiefest officers of the army, even to General King himself, for two days together, from whence many inconveniences fell out."

The times pressed hard upon the marquis and his lady, as they did indeed upon every loyalist abroad. "The people would have pulled," she says, "God out of heaven, had they had the power, as they pulled royalty out of his throne." Of the large rental of his estate, not one farthing could the marquis get for his own use, and he lived on his credit abroad, which was large, till even it was exhausted. His wife was once left, she tells us, at Antwerp, as a pawn for his debts.

"He lived on credit," says the duchess, "and outlived his trust, so that his steward was forced at one time to