relied upon; I knew a man who was said by certain reviews and literary cliques to be "a creature of large sympathies for the poor and oppressed," because he wrote touching things about them; but who would abuse his wife, and brutally treat his children, and harass his family, and then go and drink until his large heart was sufficiently full to take up the "man-and-brother" line of literary business, and suggest that a tipsy chartist was as good as a quiet gentleman. Of this class are the writers who even call livery "a badge of slavery," and yet, in truth, if the real slave felt as proud of his costume and calves as John feels, he might be considerably envied for his content by many of us.

As we entered the court-yard, a girl rose and asked Demetri if I wanted to buy her. I told him to say that I did, and would take her to England. She asked Demetri where that was, and on being told that it was so many days' journey, she ran away, declaring that she would never go so far with any body. We next went up to a circle of black females, who had clustered under the shade of a tree. A Turkish woman in her vail was talking to them. I made Demetri tell them that we had no slaves in England, as our queen did not allow it, but that every one was free as soon as they touched the land. This statement excited a laugh of the loudest derision from all the party, and they ran to tell it to their companions, who screamed with laughter as well; so that I unwittingly started a fine joke that day in the slave-market.

Going out in the day-time, it is not difficult to find traces of the fights of the night, about the limbs of all the street-dogs. There is not one, among their vast number, in the enjoyment of a perfect skin. Some have their ears gnawed away or pulled off; others have had their eyes taken out; from the backs and haunches of others, perfect steaks of flesh have been torn away; and all bear the scars of desperate combats.

Wild and desperate as is their nature, these poor animals are susceptible of kindness. If a scrap of bread is thrown to one of them now and then, he does not forget it; for they have, at times, a hard matter to live-not the dogs among the shops of Galata or Stamboul, but those whose "parish" lies in the large buryinggrounds and desert-places without the city; for each keeps, or rather is kept, to his district; and if he chanced to venture into a strange one, the odds against his return would be very large. One battered old animal, to whom I used occasionally to toss a scrap of food, always followed me from the hotel to the cross-street at Pera, where the two soldiers stand on guard, but would never come beyond this point. He knew the fate that awaited him had he done so; and therefore, when I left him, he would lie down in the road and go to sleep until I came back. When a horse or camel dies, and is left about the roads near the city, the bones are soon picked very clean by these dogs, and they will carry the skulls or pelves to great distances. I was told that they will eat their dead fellows DOGS IN CONSTANTINOPLE.-After an hour's-a curious fact, I believe, in canine economy. doze I woke up again, and went and sat by the They are always troublesome-not to say danwindow. The noise I then heard I shall never gerous-at night; and are especially irritated forget. by Europeans, whom they will single out among a crowd of Levantines.

[From the Autobiography of Leigh Hunt.] CHRIST-HOSPITAL WORTHIES.

To say that if all the sheep-dogs going to Smithfield on a market-day had been kept on the constant bark, and pitted against the yelping curs upon all the carts in London, they could have given any idea of the canine uproar that now first astonished me, would be to make the CHRIST-HOSPITAL is a nursery of tradesfeeblest of images. The whole city rang with men, of merchants, of naval officers, of scholone vast riot. Down below me at Tophané-ars; it has produced some of the greatest ornaover at Stamboul-far away at Scutari-the ments of their time; and the feeling among the whole eighty thousand dogs that are said to boys themselves is, that it is a medium, between overrun Constantinople, appeared engaged in the patrician pretension of such schools as Eton the most active extermination of each other, the Westminster, and the plebeian submission of without a moment's cessation. The yelping, and charity schools. In point of University honors, howling, barking, growling, and snarling, were it claims to be equal with the best; and though all merged into one uniform and continuous, other schools can show a greater abundance of even sound, as the noise of frogs becomes when eminent names, I know not where many will be heard at a distance. For hours there was no found who are a greater host in themselves. lull. I went to sleep, and woke again; and One original author is worth a hundred transstill, with my windows open, I heard the same mitters of elegance; and such a one is to be tumult going on: nor was it until daybreak that found in Richardson, who here received what any thing like tranquillity was restored. In education he possessed. Here Camden also respite of my early instruction, the dogs delight ceived the rudiments of his. Bishop Stillingfleet, to bark and bite, and should be allowed to do according to the memoirs of Pepys, lately pubso, it being their nature, I could not help wish-lished, was brought up in the school. We have ing that, for a short season, the power was had many eminent scholars, two of them Greek vested in me to carry out the most palpable service for which brickbats and the Bosphorus could be made conjointly available.

professors, to wit, Barnes, and the present Mr. Scholefield, the latter of whom attained an extraordinary succession of University honors. The

rest are Markland; Middleton, late Bishop of the smallest boy that could ever have attained to Calcutta; and Mitchell, the translator of "Aris- so distinguished an eminence. He was little in tophanes." Christ-Hospital, I believe, toward person, little in face, and he had a singularly the close of the last century, and the beginning juvenile cast of features, even for one so petite. of the present, sent out more living writers, in It was MITCHELL, the translator of Aristophaits proportion, than any other school. There nes. He had really attained his position premawas Dr. Richards, author of the "Aboriginal turely. I rose afterward to be next to him in the Britons;" Dyer, whose life was one unbroken school; and from a grudge that existed between dream of learning and goodness, and who used us, owing probably to a reserve, which I thought to make us wonder with passing through the pride, on his part, and to an ardency which he school-room (where no other person in "town- may have considered frivolous on mine, we beclothes" ever appeared) to consult books in the came friends. Circumstances parted us in after library; Le Grice, the translator of "Longus:" life: I became a reformist, and he a quarterly Horne, author of some well-known productions reviewer; but he sent me kindly remembrances in controversial divinity; Surr, the novelist (not not long before he died. I did not know he was in the Grammar school); James White, the declining; and it will ever be a pain to me to friend of Charles Lamb, and not unworthy of reflect, that delay conspired with accident to him, author of "Falstaff's Letters" (this was hinder my sense of it from being known to him, he who used to give an anniversary dinner to especially as I learned that he had not been so the chimney-sweepers, merrier than, though not prosperous as I supposed. He had his weakso magnificent as Mrs. Montague's); Pitman, a nesses as well as myself, but they were mixed celebrated preacher, editor of some school-books, with conscientious and noble qualities. Zealous and religious classics; Mitchell, before men- as he was for aristocratical government, he was tioned; myself, who stood next him; Barnes, who no indiscriminate admirer of persons in high came next, the editor of the "Times," than places; and, though it would have bettered his whom no man (if he had cared for it) could views in life, he had declined taking orders, have been more certain of obtaining celebrity from nicety of religious scruple. Of his admirfor wit and literature; Townsend, a prebendary able scholarship I need say nothing. of Durham, author of “ Armageddon,” and several theological works; Gilly, another of the Durham prebendaries, who wrote the "Narrative of the Waldenses;" Scargill, a Unitarian minister, author of some tracts on Peace and War, &c.; and lastly, whom I have kept by way of climax, Coleridge and Charles Lamb, two of the most original geniuses, not only of the day, but of the country. We have had an embassador among us; but as he, I understand, is ashamed of us, we are hereby more ashamed of him, and accordingly omit him.

COLERIDGE I never saw till he was old. LAMB I recollect coming to see the boys, with a pensive, brown, handsome, and kindly face, and a gait advancing with a motion from side to side, between involuntary consciousness and attempted ease. His brown complexion may have been owing to a visit in the country; his air of uneasiness to a great burden of sorrow. He dressed with a quaker-like plainness. I did not know him as Lamb: I took him for a Mr. "Guy," having heard somebody address him by that appellative, I suppose in jest.

Equally good scholar, but of a less zealous temperament was BARNES, who stood next me on the deputy-Grecian form, and who was afterward identified with the sudden and striking increase of the Times newspaper in fame and influence. He was very handsome when young, with a profile of Grecian regularity; and was famous among us for a certain dispassionate humor, for his admiration of the works of Fielding, and for his delight, nevertheless, in pushing a narrative to its utmost, and drawing upon his stores of fancy for intensifying it; an amusement for which he possessed an understood privilege. It was painful in after-life to see his good looks swallowed up in corpulency, and his once handsome mouth thrusting its under lip out, and panting with asthma. I believe he was originally so well constituted, in point of health and bodily feeling, that he fancied he could go on all his life without taking any of the usual methods to preserve his comfort. The editorship of the Times, which turned his night into day, and would have been a trying burden to any man, completed the bad consequences of his negligence, and he died painfully before he was old. Barnes wrote elegant Latin verse, a classical English style, and might assuredly have made himself a name in wit and literature, had

Every upper boy at school appears a giant to a little one. "Big boy" and senior are synonymous. Now and then, however, extreme smallness in a senior scholar gives a new kind of dignity, by reason of the testimony it bears he cared much for any thing beyond his glass to the ascendency of the intellect. It was the of wine and his Fielding.

custom for the monitors at Christ-Hospital, What pleasant days have I not passed with during prayers before meat, to stand fronting the tenants of their respective wards, while the objects of their attention were kneeling. Looking up, on one of these occasions, toward a new monitor who was thus standing, and whose face was unknown to me (for there were six hundred of us, and his ward was not mine), I thought him

him, and other schoolfellows, bathing in the New River, and boating on the Thames. He and I began to learn Italian together; and any body not within the pale of the enthusiastic, might have thought us mad, as we went shouting the beginning of Metastasio's ode to Venus, as loud as we could bawl. over the Hornsey-fields.

LEIGH HUNT DROWNING.

T Oxford, my love of boating had nearly cost

a

of drowning in the river Thames, in consequence of running a boat too hastily on shore; but it was nothing to what I experienced on this occasion. The schoolfellow whom I was visiting was the friend whose family lived in Spring Gardens. We had gone out in a little decked skiff, and not expecting disasters in the gentle Isis, I had fastened the sail-line, of which I had the direction, in order that I might read a volume which I had with me, of Mr. Cumberland's novel called "Henry." My friend was at the helm. The wind grew a little strong, and we had just got into Iffley Reach, when I heard him exclaim, "Hunt, we are over!" The next moment I was under the water, gulping it, and giving myself up for lost. The boat had a small opening in the middle of the deck, under which I had thrust my feet; this circumstance had carried me over with the boat, and the worst of it was, I found I had got the sail-line round my neck. My friend, who sat on the deck itself, had been swept off, and got comfortably to shore, which was at a little distance.

My bodily sensations were not so painful as I should have fancied they would have been. My mental reflections were very different, though one of them, by a singular meeting of extremes, was of a comic nature. I thought that I should never see the sky again, that I had parted with all my friends, and that I was about to contradict the proverb which said that a man who was born to be hung would never be drowned; for the sail-line, in which I felt entangled, seemed destined to perform for me both the offices. On a sudden, I found an oar in my hand, and the next minute I was climbing, with assistance, into a wherry, in which there sat two Oxonians, one of them helping me, and loudly and laughingly differing with the other, who did not at all like the rocking of the boat, and who assured me, to the manifest contradiction of such senses as I had left, that there was no room. This gentleman is now no more, and I shall not mention his name, because I might do injustice to the memory of a brave man struck with a panic. The name of his companion, if I mistake not, was Russell. I hope he was related to an illustrious person of the same name, to whom I have lately been indebted for what may have been another prolongation of my life.

On returning to town, which I did on the top of an Oxford coach, I was relating this story to the singular person who then drove it (Bobart, who had been a collegian), when a man who was sitting behind surprised us with the excess of his laughter. On asking him the reason, he touched his hat, and said, "Sir, I'm his footman." Such were the delicacies of the livery, and the glorifications of their masters with which they entertain the kitchen. From the Autobiography of Leigh Hunt.

WILLIAM PITT.

BY S. T. COLERIDGE.

THE following very graphic and very severe

critical estimate of WILLIAM PITT, the great Prime Minister of England during the stormy era of the French Revolution, was written by COLERIDGE for the London Morning Post, with which he was then connected. It appeared in the number of that paper, dated Wednesday, March 19, 1800. We copy it from COLERIDGE'S "Essays on His Own Times," just published in London.

PLUTARCH, in his comparative biography of Rome and Greece, has generally chosen for each pair of lives the two contemporaries who most nearly resemble each other. His work would, perhaps have been more interesting, if he had adopted the contrary arrangement and selected those rather, who had attained to the possession of similar influence or similar fame, by means, actions, and talents, the most dissimilar. For power is the sole object of philosophical attention in man, as in inanimate nature: and in the one equally as in the other, we understand it more intimately, the more diverse the circumstances are with which we have observed it coexist. In our days the two persons, who appear to have influenced the interests and actions of men the most deeply and the most diffusively are beyond doubt the Chief Consul of France, and the Prime Minister of Great Britain; and in these two are presented to us similar situations with the greatest dissimilitude of characters.

William Pitt was the younger son of Lord Chatham; a fact of no ordinary importance in the solution of his character, of no mean significance in the heraldry of morals and intellect. His father's rank, fame, political connections, and parental ambition were his mould; he was cast, rather than grew. A palpable election, a conscious predestination controlled the free agency, and transfigured the individuality of his mind; and that, which he might have been, was compelled into that, which he was to be. From his early childhood it was his father's custom to make him stand up on a chair, and declaim before a large company; by which exercise, practiced so frequently, and continued for so many years, he acquired a premature and unnatural dexterity in the combination of words, which must of necessity have diverted his attention from present objects, obscured his impressions, and deadened his genuine feelings. Not the thing on which he was speaking, but the praises to be gained by the speech, were present to his intuition; hence he associated all the operations of his faculties with words, and his pleasures with the surprise excited by them.

But an inconceivably large portion of human knowledge and human power is involved in the science and management of words; and an education of words, though it destroys genius, will often create, and always foster, talent. The young Pitt was conspicuous far beyond his

fellows, both at school and at college. He was had penetrated only through glasses and covers; always full grown: he had neither the promise who had had the sun without the breeze; whom nor the awkwardness of a growing intellect. no storm had shaken; on whom no rain had Vanity, early satiated, formed and elevated itself | pattered; on whom the dews of heaven had not into a love of power; and in losing this colloquial fallen! A being, who had had no feelings convanity he lost one of the prime links that connect nected with man or nature, no spontaneous imthe individual with the species, too early for the pulses, no unbiased and desultory studies, no affections, though not too early for the under- genuine science, nothing that constitutes individstanding. At college he was a severe student; uality in intellect, nothing that teaches brotherhis mind was founded and elemented in words hood in affection! Such was the man—such, and generalities, and these too formed all the and so denaturalized the spirit-on whose wisdom superstructure. That revelry and that debauch- and philanthropy the lives and living enjoyments ery, which are so often fatal to the powers of of so many millions of human beings were made intellect, would probably have been serviceable unavoidably dependent. From this time a real to him; they would have given him a closer enlargement of mind became almost impossible. communion with realities, they would have in- Pre-occupations, intrigue, the undue passion and duced a greater presentness to present objects. anxiety with which all facts must be surveyed; But Mr. Pitt's conduct was correct, unimpressi- the crowd and confusion of those facts, none of bly correct. His after-discipline in the special them seen, but all communicated, and by that pleader's office, and at the bar, carried on the very circumstance, and by the necessity of perscheme of his education with unbroken uniformi-petually classifying them, transmuted into words ty. His first political connections were with the and generalities; pride, flattery, irritation, arReformers, but those who accuse him of sym-tificial power; these, and circumstances resempathizing or coalescing with their intemperate bling these, necessarily render the heights of or visionary plans, misunderstand his character, office barren heights, which command, indeed, and are ignorant of the historical facts. Im- a vast and extensive prospect, but attract so aginary situations in an imaginary state of things many clouds and vapors, that most often all rise up in minds that possess a power and facility prospect is precluded. Still, however, Mr. Pitt's in combining images. Mr. Pitt's ambition was situation, however inauspicious for his real being, conversant with old situations in the old state of was favorable to his fame. He heaped period things, which furnish nothing to the imagination, on period; persuaded himself and the nation, though much to the wishes. In his endeavors to that extemporaneous arrangement of sentences realize his father's plan of reform, he was probably was eloquence; and that eloquence implied wisas sincere as a being, who had derived so little dom. His father's struggles for freedom, and knowledge from actual impressions, could be. his own attempts, gave him an almost unexamBut his sincerity had no living root of affection; pled popularity; and his office necessarily assowhile it was propped up by his love of praise ciated with his name all the great events, that and immediate power, so long it stood erect and happened during his administration. There no longer. He became a member of the Par- were not, however, wanting men, who saw liament-supported the popular opinions, and in through this delusion; and refusing to attribute a few years, by the influence of the popular the industry, integrity, and enterprising spirit party, was placed in that high and awful rank of our merchants, the agricultural improvements in which he now is. The fortunes of his coun- of our land-holders, the great inventions of our try, we had almost said, the fates of the world, manufacturers, or the valor and skillfulness of were placed in his wardship—we sink in prostra- our sailors to the merits of a minister, they have tion before the inscrutable dispensations of Prov- continued to decide on his character from those idence, when we reflect in whose wardship the acts and those merits, which belong to him and fates of the world were placed! to him alone. Judging him by this standard, they have been able to discover in him no one

The influencer of his country and of his species was a young man, the creature of another's pre-proof or symptom of a commanding genius. determination, sheltered and weather-fended from all the elements of experience; a young man, whose feet had never wandered; whose very eye had never turned to the right or to the left; whose whole track had been as curveless as the motion of a fascinated reptile! It was a young man, whose heart was solitary, because he had existed always amidst objects of futurity, and whose imagination, too, was unpopulous, because those objects of hope, to which his habitual wishes had transferred, and as it were projected, his existence, were all familiar and long established objects! A plant sown and reared in a hothouse, for whom the very air that surrounded him, had been regulated by the thermometer of previous purpose; to whom the light of nature

They have discovered him never controlling, never creating events, but always yielding to them with rapid change, and sheltering himself from inconsistency by perpetual indefiniteness. In the Russian war, they saw him abandoning meanly what he had planned weakly, and threatened insolently. In the debates on the Regency, they detected the laxity of his constitutional principles, and received proofs that his eloquence consisted not in the ready application of a general system to particular questions, but in the facility of arguing for or against any question by specious generalities, without reference to any system. In these debates, he combined what is most dangerous in democracy, with all that is most degrading in the old super

stitions of monarchy; and taught an inherency of the office in the person, in order to make the office itself a nullity, and the Premiership, with its accompanying majority, the sole and permanent power of the State. And now came the French Revolution. This was a new event; the old routine of reasoning, the common trade of politics were to become obsolete. He appeared wholly unprepared for it: half favoring, half condemning, ignorant of what he favored, and why he condemned, he neither displayed the honest enthusiasm and fixed principle of Mr. Fox, nor the intimate acquaintance with the general nature of man, and the consequent prescience of Mr. Burke.

himself to be persuaded to evince a talent for the Real, the Individual; and he brought in his POOR BILL!! When we hear the minister's talent for finance so loudly trumpeted, we turn involuntarily to his POOR BILL-to that acknowledged abortion-that unanswerable evidence of his ignorance respecting all the fundamental relations and actions of property, and of the social union!

when the feeling is passed away-remains to connect itself with the other feelings, and combine with new impressions!) The mere man of talent hears him with admiration-the mere man of genius with contempt-the philosopher neither admires nor contemns, but listens to him with a deep and solemn interest, tracing in the effects of his eloquence the power of words and phrases, and that peculiar constitution of human affairs in their present state, which so eminently favors this power.

As his reasonings, even so is his eloquence. One character pervades his whole being. Words on words, finely arranged, and so dexterously consequent, that the whole bears the semblance of argument, and still keeps awake a sense of surprise; but when all is done, nothing rememAfter the declaration of war, long did he berable has been said; no one philosophical recontinue in the common cant of office, in decla-mark, no one image, not even a pointed aphorism. mation about the Scheldt and Holland, and all Not a sentence of Mr. Pitt's has ever been quoted, the vulgar causes of common contests! and or formed the favorite phrase of the day-a thing when at last the immense genius of his new unexampled in any man of equal reputation. supporter had beat him out of these words (words But while he speaks, the effect varies according signifying places and dead objects, and signifying to the character of his auditor. The man of no nothing more), he adopted other words in their talent is swallowed up in surprise; and when places, other generalities-Atheism and Jacob- the speech is ended, he remembers his feelings, inism-phrases, which he learned from Mr. but nothing distinct of that which produced them Burke, but without learning the philosophical-(how opposite an effect to that of nature and definitions and involved consequences, with genius, from whose works the idea still remains, which that great man accompanied those words. Since the death of Mr. Burke, the forms and the sentiments, and the tone of the French have undergone many and important changes: how, indeed, is it possible that it should be otherwise, while man is the creature of experience! But still Mr. Pitt proceeds in an endless repetition of the same general phrases. This is his element; deprive him of general and abstract phrases, and you reduce him to silence. But you can not deprive him of them. Press him to specify an individual fact of advantage to be derived from a war, and he answers, Security! Call upon him to particularize a crime, and he exclaims, Jacobinism! Abstractions defined by abstractions! Generalities defined by generalities! As a minister of finance, he is still, as ever, the man of words and abstractions! Figures, custom-house reports, imports and exports, commerce and revenue-all flourishing, all splendid! Never was such a prosperous country, as England, under his administration! Let it be objected, that the agriculture of the country is, by the overbalance of commerce, and by various and complex causes, in such a state, that the country hangs as a pensioner for bread on its neighbors, and a bad season uniformly threatens us with famine. This (it is replied) is owing to our PROSPERITY-all prosperous nations are in great distress for food!-still PROSPERITY, still GENERAL PHRASES, uninforced by one single image, one single fact of real national amelioration; of any one comfort enjoyed, where it was not before enjoyed; of any one class of society becoming healthier, wiser, or happier. These are things, these are realities; and these Mr. Pitt has neither the imagination to body forth, nor the sensibility to feel for. Once, indeed, in an evil hour, intriguing for popularity, he suffered

Such appears to us to be the prime minister of Great Britain, whether we consider him as a statesman or as an orator. The same character betrays itself in his private life; the same coldness to realities, and to all whose excellence relates to reality. He has patronized no science, he has raised no man of genius from obscurity; he counts no one prime work of God among his friends. From the same source he has no attachment to female society, no fondness for children, no perceptions of beauty in natural scenery; but he is fond of convivial indulgences, of that stimulation, which, keeping up the glow of selfimportance and the sense of internal power, gives feelings without the mediation of ideas.

These are the elements of his mind; the accidents of his fortune, the circumstances that enabled such a mind to acquire and retain such a power, would form a subject of a philosophical history, and that, too, of no scanty size. We can scarcely furnish the chapter of contents to a work, which would comprise subjects so important and delicate, as the causes of the diffusion and intensity of secret influence; the machinery and state intrigue of marriages; the overbalance of the commercial interest; the panic of property struck by the late revolution; the short-sightedness of the careful; the carelessness of the far