we still hear it sounded along one or other of the pretty little streets in the environs of the metropolis, and see the trimly-decked servant-girls tripping from the houses, and negociating the purchase of a "penn'orth." There are other descriptions of persons who, with horse and cart, cry through the streets "Blooming flowers for the garden," and in the season display many of the choice productions of the florist's care, as well as the ordinary shrubs and annuals; the charge being regulated by the rarity or peculiar beauty of the plant. When reasonable in price, the stock is soon disposed of, either to decorate the windows, or to dwellings, which, by successive additions, are often kept in a beautiful and highly gratifying state of luxu riance. Another description of early occupation is the post-products, to be gathered, and the superabundance reing of bills or placards announcing public amuse- duces the price so suddenly, that these intermediate ments, exhibitions, sales, losses, &c. The persons dealers between the shopkeepers and the costardthus employed are called billstickers; they receive mongers take advantage of the events, and, by purthe placards, some of which are between two and three chasing largely, supply the middle classes of society at feet square, from the proprietor, with orders to place a very reasonable rate. them in the most conspicuous situations. This they do most effectually. No surface which can be used is free from being plastered over with papers of all colours, and letters of all sizes. Let a house become uninhabited, and the windows and walls are covered three deep in a few days. When a house is burnt down, the billmen fly in crowds to the spot. While the ruins are yet smoking, and the gaping multi-proof of extensive communication among them. Shab-enrich the little plots of ground in the rear of the tude thronging to see the effects of the catastrophe, up go the flaunting placards on the gaunt gables of the adjoining domiciles. In a few hours the whole exterior of the ruin is an universal show of bills, of every imaginable colour and capability of attraction. Billsticking is a science. It requires "machinery." To hoist a square yard of wet paper fifty feet in height, and there impose it on a dead wall, is a feat which it is no easy matter to perform. The sticker's machinery consists of a number of ferruled sticks, which, like a fishing-rod, can be lengthened by joints; in the front he carries a large tin box containing his paste and brush. As soon as he reaches a proper place for the display of his placard, his padded cross-piece is fixed to the first joint, the paper is pasted, the handle lengthened, the notice mounts thirty, forty, or fifty feet, is stuck on the spot, and, being dexterously dabbed on the edges, is left in security and lofty attraction until obliterated by succeeding billstickers. The trade of the billsticker is less peculiar to London than that of the street-grubber. In the streets of London and Westminster, which have not been macadamised, persons may be seen with a large leathern bag attached to their girdle, and in a stooping position scraping between the paved stones of the carriage-way, with a flattened piece of wood, in search of nails that may have dropped from horses' shoes. It is said gold and silver at times go into the leathern bag, but the old horse-nail is the ostensible object of search, being valuable as iron properly welded, and best suited to be made into good nails for the shoeing of horses in perpetuity. Other persons may be observed picking up scraps of rag or paper; indeed, every refuse of the shops seems to be of some value when assorted for particular uses the linen to be cleansed and prepared for the paper manufacturer; woollen rags to be cleansed and prepared for grinding, so fine as to be strewed on those patterns of paper-hangings which are called flock; scraps of glove-leather to be cleansed and prepared for the making of size; pieces of string, coloured papers, or cotton, for the mills at which coarse brown packing-paper is manufactured; and pieces of iron and various discarded morsels of metal, useless when singly considered, but valuable in collected masses, and sold at the foundries. These pickers of the very refuse of the streets have their comforts, and instances have been known where their honesty in restoring lost valuables has been properly rewarded. There is a class whose regular search is for bones, arising from a knowledge of their convertibility. Bones are valuable for many purposes; the clear parts may be used for the handles of knives, toys, and or. namental objects; certain bones are adapted to burn for producing the best ivory-black, and are useful in chemistry. From every description of bone, grease for the soap-boiler may be extracted, and all are valuable when pulverised for the purposes of agriculture. These collectors appear to be the most humble and precariously supported of human beings, but they are civil, and superior to alms-begging. With a large rush basket, or more frequently two, they pursue their avocation; not one of them would refuse to give all the information in his power respecting the apparently degrading occupation by which he earns a subsistence. They usefully fill the station they have chosen, and furnish one among many other proofs, that in a large commercial community the most trifling details may become important by judicious management. If the stranger in London continue to observe all that may occur in the streets during the morning, his mind will become bewildered by the minuteness of the subdivision of labour, and in scrutinising the character and classification of the thousands about him. That one-half know not how the other half exist, is a remark frequently made by those who are struggling to obtain their daily food; and no saying is more true as regards the inhabitants of the metropolis. Numbers of persons, denominated costard-mongers, from the commodity in which they deal being carried on the head, may be seen hurrying from the respective markets with fish and various other necessaries of life. At their homes the fish are cleansed, the vegetables trimmed, and all made as attractive as possible; after which they proceed to cry their articles along the streets, but chiefly to call at the houses of those deemed occasional customers, to whom their at tention is regular and respectful. There are other dealers of this description, who appear in the streets with carts or asses with panniers, laden with such articles as may have overstocked the markets, and, in consequence, proportionably cheap-fish and vegetables more particularly. Fine sunny mornings will cause immense quantities of mackerel to glut the markets. Fine showers, followed by warmth, will com. pel peas, beans, cauliflowers, and other vegetable Within a few years past, venders of potatoes have multiplied surprisingly. The cry of this class of persons is "Taters all hot ;" and while thus sounding the name of their wares, they bear about large tin boxes, arranged with charcoal fires at the bottom; above are several drawers, in which are layers of potatoes baked, or baking-those on the top being steamed by the moisture from those below. The pur chaser is supplied with a morsel of butter and salt at discretion to a potato, and all for a halfpenny. These dealers are much encouraged by the industrious poor, and they deserve to be so. They sell a warm mouthful to many a cold and wearied passenger. There are also numbers of Jews constantly parading the streets, each with his bag and sonorous tone, crying "clow" (or clothes). These individuals purchase every description of wearing apparel, though at exceedingly low prices. It is said that an offer for an article made by one of the fraternity, however low, will never be advanced upon by another; furnishing a by as these Jews appear in the course of their occupation as gatherers of old clothes, many of them are opulent, and, when at home with their families, live in a degree of elegance which the rest of mankind are by no means aware of. Whatever may be the faults of the Jews, they will seldom if ever be found indulging in the low habits of the intemperate part of the population. They spend most of their leisure hours in the bosom of their families, at their own firesides. There are also great numbers of porters to be seen with packages of various sizes, and others who are executing the commissions of their employers with attention and dispatch. Of this description there are many who live in respectability in the suburbs of the metropolis, one porter perhaps transacting business for several residents in his neighbourhood. He calls in the morning, receives orders to deliver parcels, and to pay or to take money in London, whatever be the amount. Confidence of this kind is never abused; he is sober and diligent, and therefore receives the reward he deserves. By one man in a neighbourhood thus acting as a servant to a number of householders, individuals are spared the expense of keeping special assistants. Of the various servants and assistants to the tradesmen and shopkeepers of the metropolis who crowd the streets, it would be useless, if not impossi- The collection is nothing, no doubt, in point of ble, to take notice; and the same may be said of those excellence to that of the Vatican or of other stores in attached to the wealthier classes. They require a host Rome; but keeping this comparison out of view, and of officials, who figure in the mass without increasing its value in a mercantile point of view; yet they, and speaking of it as an object within reach, the Louvre the establishments of which they form a part, put is into circulation an immense amount of capital, which, spreading through various ramifications, gives comfort to many, and furnishes subsistence to numerous industrious individuals. THE LOUVRE. NONE of the spectacles exhibited to strangers in Paris are usually beheld with such feelings of delight as the Louvre. It is delight accompanied with astonishment astonishment at the vastness of the collection of paintings and works of art stored up in a single build. ing. certainly a most extraordinary spectacle of its kind, and so well worthy of being visited, that, should the traveller see nothing else in Paris, his time and money will not be misspent in the journey. In the course of our rambling description of Paris, presented a few months ago in the Journal, we did little else than notice the external character and history of the Louvre, leaving a detail respecting its present collection of pictures and statues to form the subject of a subsequent paper, which may now be given. The Louvre, it may be mentioned, was for. merly one of the principal royal palaces in Paris. Here was held the court of the famed Henri Quatre; here figured, for a period, the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots. From being a place of royal resi dence, it at length, about the year 1700, became the seat of various academies, and latterly its chief apart. ments were dedicated to their present purpose-a na tional gallery of the fine arts, under the patronage of royalty. There was a period when the Louvre contained all the masterpieces of ancient and modern statuary, with all the most esteemed paintings of the various schools of Europe. Napoleon conceived the idea of rendering France renowned for possessing those productions of high art, which for a long period of time had induced the wealthy and the ingenious of different nations to visit Italy and Flanders. By right of conquest, the emperor of France therefore transferred The cries of London, about which so much has been written and said, seem to be softening into comparative silence; there are some, however, to which our fathers were strangers. "Dog's meat," and "Cat's meat," especially, cannot fail to attract the notice of strangers. This food for domestic animals is carried through the streets in miniature carts, drawn on two or four wheels by one or two dogs, who appear to be as well acquainted with the regular customers as the master, for they never fail to stop at the proper doors. These dealers are supplied with the meat by men who purchase old worn-out horses for the sake of their flesh, bones, and skin, and who possess large premises, where the animals are skinned, and the flesh boiled, and sold at moderate charges to the dog's-meat-men, who cut the masses of flesh into slices of a quarter of a pound each, through which a skewer is stuck, and thus handed to the servants. Persons in the country, who generally contrive to support their canine attend. ants by the offal of their tables, will be surprised to learn that the people of London purchase a peculiar aliment for them; but their surprise will lessen, when they reflect on the high price of all kinds of butchermeat in the metropolis. This causes families to purchase only as much as will leave none to be wasted, thereby leaving their domestic animals to be fed on inferior and lower-priced victuals. Besides, there are great numbers of warehouses and shops, where no cooking is carried on; and hence the cats and dogs of such establishments require special dishes for themselves. If the dogs of London be well cared for in to the Louvre all that was attractive in taste and ta this respect, care is also taken that they do something lent. Such was the effect of this vast assemblage of in return; their life is no sinecure. In all direc-works of art, that the advantages derived from the tions you see them yoked to little carts, belonging to various descriptions of tradesmen. It cannot be said that there is any peculiar breed of dogs employed in this branch of industry. You find individuals in harness of every imaginable tribe, from the thick. headed mastiff down to the puniest mongrel. We would advise no dog who values a leisurely idle life, to set his nose within the precincts of London. The English are the cleanliest people on the face of the earth. No doubt there are many in Scotland who might compete with them in this respect; still they must be allowed to carry off the palm of victory in all that respects perfect tidiness in the household me. nage. The English excel all the world in the matter of cleaning their windows and doors, and really give a wonderful air of neatness to their dwellings. The Scotch are not a window-cleaning nation-the Eng. lish are decidedly so. The window-frames glitter and sparkle like diamonds, from the Borders all along to the British Channel. The London housekeepers are not only remarkable for this particular, but also for the brilliant whiteness of the stone-steps and paths in front of their doors. They do not slop them over with the hazy trash called caumstone in the north, but have them rubbed with a much superior material, which they denominate hearth-stone. "Hearth-stones" is still one of the famous cries of London. We think influx of strangers were doubled in amount compared with previous years. By a catalogue published in 1814, this superb collection contained one thousand two hundred and twenty-four pictures of the first degree of excellence. By the terms of the capitulation of Paris to the allied powers, shortly after the battle of Waterloo, numbers of the most valuable productions of art were returned to the places whence they had been brought, and the gallery of the Louvre was consequently shorn of a great portion of its brilliancy. The vacant spaces caused by the removal were soon after occupied by the splendid series of pictures painted by Rubens, when under the patronage of Marie de Medicis, second consort of Henry IV.; which paintings had, till this period, enriched the palace of the Luxembourg-another royal residence in Paris. The Louvre was also sought to be restored in its attrac In the fine arts the term "school" means the peculiar drawing, colouring, and effect of some painter who taught in Rome, Venice, or other parts of the world. "School" also includes the works of all those who may have studied under, or who may have adopted the principles of, a particular master. tions, by additions from all the royal collections and other sources whence evident superiority of talent could be drawn. In consequence of these exertions, the Louvre now displays an assemblage of pictures ranking among the noblest efforts of the pencil. The entrance to the Museum of Paintings is from the Place du Musée. The vestibule, which first presents itself, is elegant, leading gradually, as you ascend a stair richly decorated with statues and bas-reliefs, into an antechamber correspondingly embellished;— thence you enter the saloon-a larger antechamber the walls of which are covered with pictures, chiefly of modern schools of art; thence to the grand gallery. The effect is here astonishing! The gallery is 1332 feet in length, presenting a magnificent perspective of columns, between which are vases of por alms," is full of feeling and masterly touch; the cattle possessed by a workman who has a little knowledge of drawing over another who is ignorant of its principles, that no opportunity should be omitted to render the mind familiar with paintings and sculpture. Most probably from an intimacy with works of art, and the taste thence derived, may be attributed that respect which is felt for such productions by the lower orders in France. A LEISTERING PLOY. [From Stoddart's Scottish Angler.] AMONG the amusements of the lower orders in Scotland, that of spearing, or, as it is more popularly termed, leistering the salmon, is by far the most excit ing. It is, we allow, a matter of no doubt that this method of destroying fish is greatly prejudicial to their increase; that by it vast numbers of salmon loaded with spawn are annually slaughtered, at a time are by no means prepared, without very solid reasons, sweepingly to condemn a practice permitted by imme. morial usage, and which obtains the character of a manly and vigorous sport. phyry, or alabaster busts of celebrated men; in the traordinary talent which is exhibited in the paintings when they can be turned to very little profit: but we mid-distance, and in the centre of the floor, is placed a globe of large dimensions, which judiciously contrasts with the numerous vertical lines of the gallery. The whole is lighted by windows and skylights, and is divided into nine divisions by arches, each resting on four Corinthian pillars of costly marble. The first, second, and third divisions of the gallery, contain pictures by artists of the French school. The fourth, fifth, and sixth divisions, display paintings of the German, Flemish, and Dutch schools. The seventh, eighth, and ninth divisions, are enriched by masterpieces of the Italian and Spanish schools. Amid the profusion of decoration, bas-relief, carving, gilding, and painting, which every where prevail, the eye becomes dazzled with the splendour, and the lid drops to introduce repose on a scene so instructive and magnificent. Proceeding along the gallery, artists from all nations may be seen with their palettes and pencils, emulating their predecessors, and among whom are many of the fair sex, whose talents are evident, even when compared with those of the beautiful originals before them. The enumeration of the pictures that form this col The varieties of excellence which the pencil is capable of displaying, may here be contemplated by all who are desirous of knowing by what means they may obtain information respecting the constituent parts of perspective, drawing, anatomy, expression, light, shade, colour, harmony, and general effect, in all the force with which they were impressed on the minds of different artists whose works are exhibited. most proper to commence with the modern, and, by In this display of talent, it has been considered way of climax, terminate with the old, masters. The wealth and splendour of successive pontiffs, by their encouragement to artists, tended to produce that exof the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, during which vast conception and vigorous execution led to the idea that painting should be more than a simple imitation of nature. Michael Angelo and Raphael are most prominent in beauty and energy; but these great requisites in painting are to be found in the works of all those painters who were employed to decorate the altars or the churches of Italy. The third division of the gallery of the Louvre, therefore, contains subjects, chiefly from sacred history, in which a fine imagination, regulated by expression and dig nified simplicity, present to us such surprising effects. Subjects from profane history are not very conspicuous in the Louvre; and, independently of the declining taste for such representations, they are in many respects inferior to those of a scriptural origin; among which the paintings of Carrache demand the visitor's attention. Nativities, crucifixions, and entombments, are varied in every variety of groupings. Martyrdoms of saints and early Christians are thickly scattered along the walls of the gallery. Those who have satisfaction in observing the treatment of the same subject by masters of the different schools of Italy, may find ample scope for comparison. Cimabue and Leonardo da Vincini of the Florentine school, Corregio of the school of Parma, Domenichino and Guido of the Bolonaise school, Paul Veronese and Titian of the Venetian school, and Raphael of the Roman and infant Jesus, with surprising purity of expres sion and beauty of representation, affected more or less by taste in design, depth of shade, or mellowness of touch. lection must be left to the catalogue, which may be school, have all exercised their talents on the Mother Here are also the splendid pictures by Rubens, commencing at No. 677 and terminating at 718, a few of which are from sacred history; No. 683 is a splendid picture, and the portraits, particularly No. 715, are finely painted; but it is the emblematic representations of the principal circumstances attending the life of Marie de Medicis, that display the power of Rubens in invention, gorgeous arrangement, surprising beauty of colour, and vigour of effect. The truth of Ruys dael's colour and touch in expressing water, is finely copied from nature in Nos. 720 and 721; the animals of Sneyders are perfect representations of nature, in 738 and 741; D. Teniers, in No. 760, "distributing The Museum of Antiques is also within the palace of the Louvre, occupying some spacious galleries beneath that appropriated to paintings. Here once were placed the finest specimens of ancient sculpture, those of the grand style of the art when brought to perfection by Phidias, Polycletus, Scopas, Lysippus, and other illustrious artists of Greece, who considered that figures could not be graceful if deficient in beauty, gesture, and expression, such as may be discovered in the Venus de Medicis and the Apollo Belvidere. Another style of high art is displayed in the Laocoon, where the sufferings of the body and the elevation of soul are expressed in every member with great energy and truth of expression. These three pieces of statuary, which continue to attract the attention and obtain the admiration of all beholders, were removed in 1815 to their previous stations in Italy. There are, however, sufficient in the museum to afford a high degree of pleasure. The different rooms bear the name of the principal object they each contain, as the hall of the Roman Emperors, the hall of the Seasons, the hall of Peace, the hall of Roman Senators, Orators, and others; the hall of the Centaur, the hall of Diana, the hall of the Candelabre, the hall of the Tiber, the hall of the Gladiator, the hall of Pallas, the hall of Melpomene. These are the chief, but there are others containing objects of extraordinary talent; the whole affording specimens of the mythological figures of ancient Greece-the illustrious individuals of Rome in perfect figures and in busts, together with modern tify the most ardent searcher after form, character, sculpture of exquisite workmanship, sufficient to graand expression, through all the gradations, from the ideal to the unsophisticated representation of the human figure. Amid these examples of surprising talent, numerous students may be seen copying, measuring the proportions, correcting their tastes, and improving their judgments. The ready access afforded to the Louvre to all classes of society naturally contributes to an extension of taste for the fine arts, the knowledge of which is of increasing importance to operatives in every department of commercial pursuit, more particularly where the study of form, hue, or adaptation of parts, as in mechanism, arrangement of colours, elegance of design, or conformity, become essential to practical efficacy and perfection." This is so strikingly evident in the advantages We have too great a love for our national amusements, to wish them altogether deranged by the unseasonable interference of the law; and with respect to the use of the leister as a method of killing fish, we would rather see it encouraged, within certain limits, south of Scotland, it never can be, as long as exists than tyrannically suppressed, which we know, in the the old spirit of the Border. taking cannot fail to be interesting to our readers. We shall accordingly attempt to sketch off as graphi. cally as possible a leistering ploy on one of our waters. A short description of this national mode of salmon. The months most suitable for this amusement in the southern districts of Scotland, are those of October and November, about and immediately after closetime. On the subsiding of a heavy flood, which, during these months, brings into the tributaries of Tweed a considerable number of salmon, grilses, and sea-trout, a party is generally formed, composed of the male inhabitants of the parish or district, from old men of threescore down to boys in their earliest teens. For several days previous, the blacksmiths, miles about, are employed in sharpening up and repairing the leisters or salmon spears, which are commonly three or four pronged, and have long slender shafts formed of ash or fir. Torches also of pitch, rosin, old ropes, and flax, are made ready-the state of the water is discussed and a mimickry of the bustle prevalent before a foray, or martial adventure, is enacted among the petty villages or farm-houses bordering upon the stream. On the afternoon of the intended operations, and immediately previous to their setting forth, every public-house contains a number of small and select groups, talking over their former feats and fortunes. Here is no less a personage than the Ettrick Shepherd, a good hand both at the rod and leister; on his right sit Wat Amos, and David Turnbull, landlord of the Gordon Arms, below Benger Knowe; to the left of the poet are seated Thorburn of Juniper Bank and Forster of Coldstream, without question the ablest anglers on Tweedside; at another corner you may discern Walter Brydon of Ettrick, surrounded by a bevy of Scotts, Laidlaws, and Andersons. Jamie," as Mr Hogg terms his only son, lingers impatiently outside, and, though a boy, is by no means unlearned in the art of transfixing a salmon. Here, too, is old "Jock Gray," the Edie Ochiltree of Sir Walter Scott, the veriest gaberlunzie man in broad Scotland, and one of the best mimics alive. "Wee But the sun is now gone down, and a star or two peer out from the eastern bend of heaven. Yarrow, chafing her banks, is listened to by the eager band who are assembled outside the Gordon Arms, some armed with leisters, others waving red and gleaming torches, which cast their far reflections into the core of twilight. At length the order to march is given by the Ettrick Shepherd, and in the space of five mi. nutes our gallant group of Borderers are waist-deep in the bridge-pool, on the look-out for a salmon. One who has not witnessed it will be surprised at the effect of a torch held over a stream during a dark night. Without being magical, it is astonishing; every pebble is revealed, every fish rendered visible in places even where the water is some fathoms deep. None of these, however, occur in Yarrow; in its most unfordable parts, you will seldom meet with any very profound or dangerous abysses. It is one with variety; an almost uniform depth of channel, of those rarely wrought waters which blend harmony with a pleasant mutability in the aspect and forma. tion of its banks. But, ho! a salmon is discovered; and the rapid plunge of a leister from the arm of a brawny shepherd, followed by an exclamation of disappointment, indicates that it has escaped his too eager and agi tated aim; yet its fate is fixed-there is cooler blood, and a more practised hand, present, than that of this untried youth: for there stands Thorburn, his nicely poised leister directed, as if from his eye, upon the broad flank of the silvery fish, as it rushes, arrowlike, up the current. A shout, not loud but joyous, proclaims the success of the blow, and, fast pinned by the unerring spear, writhes a fine newrun grilse in four feet water, unable to break from the firm hold of its relentless captor, who soon drags it ashore and completes its destruction. And, now, two other fish are under inquiry; for Wee Jamie, who is prowling about the banks, avers he disturbed some enormous monsters, which swam leisurely down towards the next pool: and there to be sure they are, milter and spawner, large, unclean, copper-coloured salmon. Immediately almost the whole group are mingled closely together, in some confusion; for each one is anxious to strike, however imperfect the glimpse he obtains of his object. Aloof, however, from the rest stand the Ettrick Shepherd and Wat Amos, calculating upon the return of at least one of the fish to the former pool. Nor are they in error; for, though vigilant, those below have strangely mismanaged, and spoilt their opportunity-one of them extinguishing with the end of his leister the torch-light which directed his eye to the salmon; another losing his balance in the very act of striking, and sousing himself head over heels in water not over-highly tempered; and a third, after having hit one of the fish, allowing it to dash upwards towards Mr Hogg, who in true style brings it to land, transfixed to the spine, and scarcely able, ere it expired, to make any thing like a struggle to escape. The party in a short time passing Altrive, move up towards Douglas Burn, near the mouth of which three or four other fish are killed, one of them a large yellow trout, weighing above five, the rest grilses, under ten pounds. To a spectator at a short distance, not previously aware of what is going on, a group of salmon leisterers must possess a singular and romantic appearance, asaociating itself strongly with the olden times of Border adventure. The torches, with crimson flare, searching the hill-walled heaven, and hurrying, in all directions, fire and shadow over a dark mass of waters; the figures, some fully exposed, others dimly visible, and thrown suddenly into view by the intervention of a stream of red light; the surrounding extent of moorland and pasture, embellished with a few gaunt trees and a mouldering tower; here a solitary sheep fence, there a quiet hut; and, with these, the strange intermixture of human voices all necessarily must work upon the imagination with a power and vividness which is seldom experienced among the more ordinary elements of poetry and romance. But here is a gallant chase, worth fifty fox-hunts. No tiny fish have they started, or we mistake, but a twenty-pounder at least, judging from the huge tail which is helming it along the shallows. How it scuds, like the dolphin bark of Orion, or a rainbow rocket, throwing up ruby sparks! What a brilliant track of fire is there in its rear! And now it has escaped the ford, and the discharge of not a few leisters from the stragglers above; and here it is, in a long, dark, narrow pool, with a hollow bank of clay at one side, the other a flat layer of pebbles; it swims now more at its ease, in a sort of fancied security, although still restless, and every now and then probing with its chin the indentations and cavities of the left-hand embank. ment. among the whole party. The best, a fresh-run galmon, is allotted to Mr Hogg, who, with his true Border hospitality, invites his friends to wash it down with a sober jug of that true preventive of colds and rheumatisms, whisky-toddy. The more rustic groups repair, some to the Gordon Arms, and others to their own dwellings, to enjoy the comforts of a huge fire and hot supper. Leistering in Scotland, in broad rivers like the Tweed, is sometimes practised from a boat; and, in the Solway Firth, where the tides run rapid and the water is shallow, a horse was wont to be employed. We believe the method of spearing fish from the saddle is still in vogue, and can easily believe, that, although followed for profit, it affords no small or ignoble amusement among such perilous and unsteady sands as those which occur in the south-western districts of Scotland. KNOWLEDGE LEADS TO COMFORT. [From the Working Man's Companion.] WHEN a boy has got hold of what we call the rudiments of learning, he has possessed himself of the most useful tools and machines which exist in the world. He has got the means of doing that with extreme ease, which, without these tools, is done only with extreme labour. He has earned the time which, if rightly employed, will elevate his mind, and therefore improve his condition. Just so is it with all tools and machines for diminishing bodily exertion. They give us the means of doing that with comparative ease, which, without them, can only be done with extreme drudgery. They set at liberty a great quantity of mere animal power, which, having then leisure to unite with mental power, produces ingenious and skilful workmen in every trade. But they do more than this. They diminish human suffering-they improve the health-they increase the term of life-they render all occupations less painful and laborious-and, by doing all this, they elevate man in the scale of existence. The present Pasha, or chief ruler of Egypt, in one of those fits of caprice which it is the nature of tyrants to exhibit, ordered, a few years ago, that the male population of a district should be set to clear out one of the ancient canals which was then filled up with mud. The people had no tools, and the Pasha gave them no tools; but the work was required to be done. So to work the poor wretches went, to the number of fifty thousand. They had to plunge up to their necks in the filthiest slime, and to bale it out with their hands, and their hands alone. They were fed, it is true, during the operation; but their food was of a quality proportioned to the little profitable labour which they performed. They were fed on horse-beans and water. In the course of one year, more than thirty thousand of these unhappy people perished. If the tyrant, instead of giving labour to fifty thousand people, had possessed the means of setting up steam-engines to pump out the water, and scoop out the mud-if he had even provided the common pump, which is called Archimedes's screw, and was invented by that philosopher And now it is concealed from notice by the agitated for the very purpose of draining land in Egypt-if the state of the water, into which, through means of its people had even had scoops and shovels, instead of snout, it has shaken down no inconsiderable quantity being degraded like beasts, to the employment of their of clay; but the random search of Wat Amos's leis- unassisted hands-the work might have been done at ter has again compelled it to trust to its fins, and it a fiftieth of the cost, even of the miserable pittance of dashes up in fine style through a series of pools, fol-horse-beans and water; and the money that was lowed by the whole group of sportsmen. A slight saved by the tools and machines, might have gone to contortion of the tail indicates that it has received furnish profitable labour to the thousands who perished some small injury, but its speed is scarcely dimi- amidst the misery and degradation of their unprofit nished, and it slips almost miraculously from underable labour. the shower of leisters with which again it is rapidly assailed. As yet, Thorburn has held back; but now, although third in the attack, one may observe, hung in air, his fatal spear, thrown from the steadiest hands among modern Borderers, and down, at the very feet of the Ettrick Shepherd, it falls unerringly upon the head of the devoted fish, which, hard pressed, is employing every means to escape. In leister fishing, allowance must always be made for the refractory nature of the water; and it is necessary, where the pool is of any depth, to strike below, and not at the fish. Salmon are rather attracted than frightened by the torch, and will often, if not otherwise disturbed, move slowly up towards it, or balance themselves steadily upon their fins within reach of the eager sportsman. You say, probably, that this is a case which does not apply to you, because you are free men, and cannot be compelled to perish, up to your necks in mud, upon a pittance of horse-beans, doled out by a tyrant. Exactly so. But what has made you free? Knowledge. Knowledge-which, in raising the moral and intellectual character of every Englishman, has raised up barriers to oppression which no power can ever break down. Knowledge-which has set ingenious men thinking in every way how to increase the profitable labour of the nation, and therefore to increase the comforts of every man in the nation. Is it for the working men of this country, or for any other class of men, to say that knowledge shall stop at a certain point, and shall go no farther? Is it for them to say, that although they are willing to retain the infinite blessings which knowledge has bestowed upon them— the improved food, the abundant fuel and water, the cheap clothing, the convenient houses, the drainage and ventilation which make houses healthful, the preservation of life by medical science, and the profit and comfort of books-that we are to rest satisfied with what we have got; or rather, if the destroyers of machinery are to be heard, that we are to go back to what we were five hundred years ago? Depend upon it, if we once begin to march backwards, however slow may be the first steps, the retreat towards ignorance, instead of the advance towards knowledge, will soon become pretty quick; till at last there would be one mad rush from civilisation to uncivilisation. But our group of hunters are now somewhat wearied. Then comes the labour of the despot, who has been The torches, one by one, are consumed. A cold frost comparatively idle while knowledge was labouring. settles down over the atmosphere, and even works There is no halting-place then; and the mud and itself into the wet garments and plaids of the satisfied horse-beans of the Pasha of Egypt will be the proper Lowlanders. Above a score of fish have they immo-end and the fit reward of such monstrous folly and lated salmon, grilses, sea-trout, and yellow-fins-wickedness. and here they lie in a goodly heap, to be shared out Machinery enters into competition with human la Sometimes an otter is killed by the leister, for that animal is as keen a hunter as man himself, and knows well the season when salmon spawn, and in what mood of water they can be captured with the greatest ease. A chase of this kind surpasses all other sports -the power and sagacity generally displayed by the otter increasing not a little the fervour and interest of the pursuit. One of these creatures, transfixed by the salmon spear, has been known to twist itself round the shaft, and divide it by the mere strength and sharpness of its teeth. Its great cunning, also, will enable it sometimes to escape, after being severely, if not mortally, wounded. bour; and, therefore, there are some people who say let us tax machinery to support the labour which it supersedes. The real meaning of this is—let us tax machinery, to prevent cheapness of production, to discourage invention, and to interfere with a change from one mode of labour to another mode. There are temporary inconveniences, doubtless, in machinery; but we think that every man who suffers from these inconveniences possesses in himself the power of remedying those evils, or at least of mitigating them. But it appears to us that any proposed remedy for a temporary evil, which has a tendency to arrest the course of improvement, is a little like the ancient wisdom of the Dutch market-woman, who, when the one pannier of her ass is too heavily laden with cabbages, puts a stone into the other pannier to make matters equal. MISAPPLICATION OF TALENTS. NOTWITHSTANDING our repeated announcements to the effect that we respectfully decline receiving contributions for our paper, hardly a day passes that does not bring us a literary communication of some sort or other. It is in vain that we say we do not require this kind of assistance-others know better; individually, they perhaps allow that our regulation is in a general sense judicious, but that it can by no means apply to their communication, which is described as every way worthy of meeting the public eye. What a curious principle of human action does this special pleading unfold! What a combination of vanity and misapplication of mental labour! When we originally announced that we did not require communications, it was from the perfect conviction that none would be sent to us of the least value, and were therefore desirous of being spared the disagreeable duty of reading over what could not possibly be of any use. Experience has fully proved the correctness of this opinion. Writing for the press is a business that requires not only peculiar faculties, but long and persevering study. There is a knack in it, which, like every thing else in science and art, must be learned. The first efforts of writers are exceedingly defective. They sometimes strike upon a good idea, but generally contrive to lose it amidst a series of long-winded inexplicable sentences. They go wildly round and round in a mist of words; and when you finish the perusal of their article, it is ten to one if you can tell what it is all about. Such, in most cases, is the sort of papers that are sent to us for insertion. The writers, no doubt, mean well, but this would form a poor excuse for us if we were to fill our columns with their productions. They write anonymously, at least in as far as regards the public, and have therefore nothing to fear; but we stand in a very different position in relation to our readers. We are under a pledge to furnish only "meals of healthful, useful, and agreeable mental instruction." Being thus responsible for every line which we issue, we cannot, on any pretence, admit the stray undigested contributions of persons unpractised in the business of writing for the press. The great number of communications sent to us in a state quite unfit for publication, leads to the reflec tion that there must be a very great number of individuals who misspend their time in attempting literary composition. The number of persons, in particular, who write verses, must be immense-far greater than the world has any just conception of. We have often wished that we knew the names of our rhyming con. tributors, in order that we might have it in our power to enforce the propriety of their turning their talents they follow may be a solace to the feelings, but has to some really useful purpose. The pursuit which extremely little chance of ever raising them one step in the ladder of fortune, or of being beneficial to their race in any respect whatever. Instead of frittering away their valuable time in such a vain pursuit, how much more honourable would it be for them to attempt to rise, through a steady application of their mental energies, in the business to which they have attached themselves. Upon this subject, Mr Godwin, in his work entitled "Thoughts on Man," has the following observations, which are well worthy of being treasured in the minds of literary aspirants. "Little progress has yet been made in the art of turning human creatures to the best account. Every man has his place, in which, if he can be fixed, the most fastidious judge cannot look upon him with disdain. But to effect this arrangement, an exact attention is required to ascertain the pursuit in which he will best succeed. Every human creature, idiots and extraordinary cases excepted, is endowed with talents, which, if rightly directed, would show him to be apt, adroit, intelligent, and acute, in the walk for which his organisation especially fitted him. There is, however, a sort of phenomenon, by no means of rare occurrence, which tends to place the human species under a less favourable point of view. Many men are forced into situations and pursuits ill assorted to their talents, and by that means are exhibited to their contemporaries in a light both despicable and ludicrous. But this is not all. Men are not only placed by the absurd choice of their parents, or an imperious concurrence of circumstances, in destinations and employments in which they can never appear to advantage: they frequently, without any external compulsion, select for themselves objects of their industry, glaringly unadapted to their powers, and in which all their efforts must necessarily terminate in miscarriage. I remember a young man, who had been bred a hair-dresser, but who experienced, as he believed, the secret visitations of the Muse, and became inspired. With sad civility and aching head,' I perused no fewer than six comedies from the pen of this aspiring genius, in no page of which I could discern any glimmering of poetry or wit, or in reality could form a guess what it was that the writer intended in his ela. borate effusions. Every manager of a theatre, and every publishing bookseller of eminence, can produce you, in each revolving season, whole reams, almost cartloads, of blurred paper, testifying the frequent recurrence of the phenomenon. The cause of this painful mistake does not lie in the circumstance, that each man has not from the hand of nature an appropriate destination, a sphere assigned to him, in which, if life should be prolonged to him, he might be secure of the respect of his neighbours. One of the most glaring infirmities of our nature is discontent-one of the most unquestionable characteristics of the human mind is the love of novelty. We are satiated with those objects which make a part of our business in every day, and are desirous of trying something that is a stranger to us. But the progress of a man of reflection will be, to a considerable degree, in the path he has already entered. If he strikes into a new career, it will not be without deep premeditation. He will attempt nothing wantonly. He will carefully examine his powers, and see for what they are adapted. The fool dashes in at once. He obeys a blind unreflecting impulse. His case bears a striking resemblance to what is related of Oliver Goldsmith. Goldsmith was a man of the most felicitous endowments. His prose flows with ease, copiousness, and grace. His verses are among the most spirited, natural, and unaffected in the English language. Yet he was not contented. If he saw a consummate dancer, he knew no reason why he should not do as well, and immediately felt disposed to essay his powers. If he heard an accomplished musician, he undertook to enter the lists with him; and his failure in such attempts must necessarily have been ludicrous. The applause bestowed on others will often generate uneasiness and a sigh, in men least of all qualified by nature to acquire similar applause. We are not contented to proceed in the path of obscure usefulness and worth. We are eager to be admired, and thus often engage in pursuits for which perhaps we are of all men least adapted. Each one would be the man above him. And this is the cause why we see so many individuals, who might have passed their lives with honour, devote themselves to incredible efforts, only that they may be made supremely ridiculous. This is the explanation of a countless multitude of failures that occur in the career of literature. Nor is this phenomenon confined to literature. In all the various paths of human existence that appear to have something in them splendid and alluring, there are perpetual instances of daring adventures, unattended with the smallest rational hope of success. In reality, the splendid march of genius is beset with a thousand difficulties. A multitude of unthought-of qualifications are required; and it depends at least as much upon the nicely maintained balance of these, as upon the copiousness and brilliancy of each, whether the result shall be auspicious." SLAVERY IN ANCIENT ROME.-If we examine the avocations of slaves in ancient Rome, we shall find that they occupied every conceivable station, from the delegate superintending and enjoying the rich man's villa, to the meanest office of menial labour or obsequious vice; from the foster-mother of the rich man's child to the lowest condition of degradation to which women can be reduced. The public slaves handled the oar in the galleys, or laboured in the public roads. Some were lictors, some were jailors. Slaves were executioners, watchmen, watermen, scavengers. Slaves regulated the rich palace in the city, and slaves performed all the drudgery of the farm. Nor was it unusual to teach slaves the arts. Virgil made one of his a poet, and Horace himself was the son of an emancipated slave. The physician and the surgeon were often slaves. So, too, the preceptor and the pedagogue, the reader and the stage-player, the clerk and the amanuensis, the buffoon and the mummer, the architect and the smith, the weaver and the shoemaker, the undertaker and the bearer of the bier, the pantomime and the singer, the rope-dancer and the wrestler-all were bondmen. The armiger, or squire, was a slave. You cannot name an occupation, connected with agriculture, manufacturing industry, or public amusement, but it was the patrimony of slaves. Slaves engaged in commerce; slaves were wholesale merchants; slaves were retailers, and the managers of banks were slaves. Educated slaves exercised their professions for the emolument of their masters. Of course, the value of slaves varied with their health, their beauty, or their accomplishments. The common labourer was worth from L.15 to L.20, the usual price of a negro in the West Indies, when the slave-trade was in vogue. A good cook was worth almost any price. An accomplished play-actor could not be valued at less then Ì.1600. ́A ́good fool was cheap at less than L.160. Beauty was a fancy article, and its price varied. Mark Antony gave L.1600 for a pair of beautiful youths, and much higher prices were paid. About as much was paid for an illustrious grammarian. A handsome actress was worth far more: her annual salary might sometimes be L.2600. The law valued a physician at L.48. Lucullus, having once obtained an immense number of prisoners of war, sold them for 3s. a-head-probably the lowest price for which a lot of able-bodied men was ever offered.-North American Review. PETER M'CRAW. TUNE-Bonnie Dundee. [We find this good-humoured jeu-d'esprit in the second edition of "Songs, by Robert Gilfillan," just published. From a first edition, which appeared a few years ago, Mr Gilfillan's songs are extensively and favourably known for their pleasing qualities of melody and sentiment. They are chiefly in the Scottish language, in which the author must now be considered as almost the only worthy successor of Burns and Tannahill. The present poem has a good deal of the spirit of Casti's Giuli Tre, a series of two hundred sonnets respecting the troubles consequent to a poor poet from an insoluble debt of three small silver pieces.] O! do ye ken Peter, the taxman an' vriter? Ye're weel aff wha ken naething 'bout him ava: They ca' him Inspector, or Poor's Rates CollectorMy faith! he's weel kent in Leith, Peter M'Craw ! He ca's, and he comes again-haws, and he hums again, He's only ae hand, but it's as gude as twa; He pu's 't out an' raxes, an' draws in the taxes, An' pouches the siller-shame! Peter M'Craw! He'll be at your door by daylight on a Monday, On Tyesday ye're favoured again wi' a ca'; E'en a slee look he gied me at kirk the last Sunday, Whilk meant "Mind the preachin' an' Peter M'Craw!" He glowrs at my auld door as if he had made it, He keeks through the keyhole when I am awa'; I thought to be happy wi' friends ower a drappie, bred loyalty unto Virtue which can serve her without a livery." These are qualities that hang not upon any man's breath. They must be formed within our. selves; they must make ourselves-indissoluble and indestructible as the soul! If, conscious of these possessions, we trust tranquilly to time and occasion to render them known, we may rest assured that our character, sooner or later, will establish itself. We cannot more defeat our own object than by a restless and fevered anxiety as to what the world will say of us. Except, indeed, if we are tempted to unworthy compliances with what our conscience disapproves, in order to please the fleeting and capricious countenance of the time. There is a moral honesty in a due regard for character which will not shape itself to the humours of the crowd. And this, if honest, is no less wise. For the crowd never long esteems those who flatter it at their own expense. He who has the suppleness of the demagogue will live to complain of the fickleness of the mob.-Bulwer's “ Student." STATE OF PRINTING IN PORTUGAL.-In Lisbon there are only two printing-offices-the one publishes a weekly newspaper, and employs four compositors and two pressmen; the other prints a twice-a-week paper, and employs six compositors and two pressmen. In Oporto there are three printing establishments upon a similar scale, one of which is supported by the English merchants, and the work executed in it is chiefly in the English language. The types are of a very in ferior description, and the press is an extremely rude and inefficient machine, the impression being imparted from the types to the paper by the weight of a large stone, which is raised and lowered by a rope and pulley attached to the ceiling. What a woeful contrast to the beautiful types and powerful screw and lever presses of Britain-not to speak of our wonderful steam-machines, some of them printing at the rate of four thousand sheets per hour. In June 1833, there were in Edinburgh fifty-four printing-offices, and seven hundred and fifty-four individuals employed in them, besides a considerable number out of employment; while in the same year there were in the city of Lisbon only two printing establishments, with fourteen men in both! The manuals of the church are mostly imported from France, and those who possess them, seem to know their contents chiefly by rote, as, with few exceptions, they were unable to read any other works which were casually presented to them. -Weekly Chronicle. DENSITY OF Bodies at difFERENT DEPTHS.Professor Leslie observes, that air compressed into the fiftieth part of its volume has its elasticity fifty times augmented: if it continue to contract at that rate, it would, from its own incumbent weight, acquire the density of water at the depth of thirty-four miles. But water itself would have its density doubled at the depth of 93 miles, and would attain the density of quicksilver at the depth of 362 miles. In descending, therefore, towards the centre, through nearly 4000 I'm auld, now, an' donner't, though yince I was honour'd-miles, the condensation of ordinary substances would Oh, Peter, tak pity and some mercy shaw! I yince had a hunder o' notes-do ye wonder?- Ye've made a toom house to me, Peter M'Craw! There's houp o' a ship though she's sair press'd wi' dangers, surpass the utmost powers of conception. Dr Young says that steel would be compressed into one-fourth, and stone into one-eighth, of its bulk at the earth's centre. However, we are yet ignorant of the laws of compression of solid bodies beyond a certain limit, though, from the experiments of Mr Perkins, they ap pear to be capable of a greater degree of compression than has been generally imagined. Mrs Somerville. THE "HERO IN HUMBLE LIFE." We have much pleasure in mentioning that the following sums have been received, betwixt the 3d of June and the present date (July 8), for James Maxwell, the individual mentioned under the fictitious name of Cochrane in the article entitled "A Hero in Humble Life," and There's nae fair maids strayin', nae wee bairnies playin' transmitted by us to him, as an additional tribute of re Ye've muckle to answer for, Peter M'Craw! But what gude o' grievin' as lang's we are leevin', My banes I'll sune lay within yon kirkyard wa'; There nae care shall press me, nae taxes distress me, For there I'll be free frae thee, Peter M'Craw! • W. Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh; Simpkin and Marshall, London. † A devout legend, common in the seventeenth century, above the entrances of houses. CHARACTER. Among the happiest and proudest possessions of a man, is his character-it is a wealth it is a rank of itself. It usually procures him the honours, and rarely the jealousies of Fame. Like most treasures that are attained less by circumstances than ourselves, character is a more felicitous reputation than glory. The wise man, therefore, despises not the opinion of the world-he estimates it at its full value-he does not wantonly jeopardise his treasure of a good name-he does not rush from vanity alone, against the received sentiments of others-he does not hazard his oostly jewel with unworthy combatants and for a petty stake. He respects the legislation of decorum. If he be benevolent, as well as wise, he will spect for his merits. Medicus, London,-deducting postage A Family in Edinburgh Two Ladies, per Mr Izett, Edinburgh G. W.. London G. M. Torrance, George's Square, Edinburgh Rev. Charles Findlater, Newlands Besides these sums, we have learnt with much satisfaction that the passengers on board a steam-vessel which Maxwell was lately conducting down the Clyde, having their attention attracted to the article referring to him, subscribed the sum of L.9, 17s. in his behalf; making in all L.51, 3s. 41d. which we have been the glad means of obtaining for this excellent person. Waterloo Place, Edinburgh, July 8, 1835. LONDON: Published, with Permission of the Proprietors, by On & SMITH, Paternoster Row; and sold by G. BERGER, Holywell Street, Strand: BANCKS & Co., Manchester: WRIGHTSON & WEBB, Birmingham; WILLMER & SMITH, Liverpool: W E. SOMERSCALE, Leeds; C. N. WRIGHT, Nottingham; M. BINGHAM, Bristol; S. SIMMS, Bath; C. GAIN, Exeter; J. PURDON, Hull; A. WHITTAKER, Sheffield; H. BELLERBY, York; J. TAYLOR, Brighton; GEORGE YOUNG, Dublin; and all other Booksellers and Newsmen in Great Britain and Ireland, Canada, Nova Scotia, and United States of America. remember that character affords him a thousand utili Complete sets of the work from its commencement, or num. bers to complete sets, may at all times be obtained from the Pub Stereotyped by A. Kirkwood, Edinburgh. Printed by Bradbury and Evans (late T. Davison), Whitefriars CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "THE BOOK OF SCOTLAND," &c., AND BY ROBERT CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "TRADITIONS OF EDINBURGH," "PICTURE OF SCOTLAND," &c. No. 184. TROUBLES OF THE NEWLY MARRIED. To judge from the smiling emblems with which the fancy of the poets has invested the fact of being married, one would suppose it to be a matter of unmingled jocundity. Hymen, the Graces, every better looking deity, is pressed into the service of the young couple, and he who is not happy on his marriage day is set down as one who will newer be happy. I fear, on the contrary, that, in a great majority of cases, the nuptial era is one of the most 'disagreeable that occurs in the course of a lifetime. This character, I would say, may not belong to it through any fault in the parties, and certainly through none in the great institution itself, but in consequence of a vast variety of little fretting troubles which hardly ever fail to attend the devising and accomplishment of a matrimonial union-troubles only the more pestilent that they seem so inappropriate to a time from which such different results were expected. From the moment, indeed, that a marriage is suspected to be on the tapis, to the time when the world has ceased to think of it, all is annoyance and perplexity, at least to the gentleman insomuch that I sometimes wonder how people can venture on purchasing even a life's happiness at the expense of such a severe preliminary trial. It is needless, however, to wonder at this so common adventure, seeing that it is generally entered upon under the influence of a maxim which would perhaps be found at the bottom of more wonderfully hazardous enterprises than we are aware of that it is better to go on than to draw back. A youth falls into the dream styled love; he looks and sighs, as he thinks, in secret; under thousands of pretences wonderfully imposing upon himself, he contrives to perform thousands of little services to the beloved object; he even attempts verse, and, thrusting into the young lady's album a few anonymous pieces of his own, in which he thinks he has expressed all his romantic feelings, sees with mortified but excusing surprise, that she appreciates nothing about them but the neatness of the penmanship. For weeks, for months, he goes on thus, contriving all kinds of unalarming pleas for visits, spending the time of these visits in a kind of subdued transport, and yet wondering when he retires that he did not enjoy them more. When sensible that it would be improper to call, he has a consolatory pleasure in approaching the part of the town where she lives, and, if he can get a real business reason for passing her abode, it is almost as good as a call. By night, the lamp which he sees in her window is as a harbour-light to which tend all the thoughts that form his spiritualised existence. He can gaze on it for hours, and, when it is extinguished, feels as if himself, not she, were involved in dark. ness. By day, to meet but her schoolboy brother, whistling unreflectingly along, is a pleasure to him. The very dogs and cats of the establishment have an interest for him. And all his callings, his obsequiousnesses, his watchings, his abstractions, he believes to be unobserved. No one, he supposes, pays the least attention to what he is about, or forms any conclusion from his conduct. He sees, for his own part, no harm in it; he looks forward to no consequences; he never once thinks of what it is all tending to when suddenly, some fine day, a free-spoken friend astounds him with " Well, I hear you're going to get Miss Graham!" Going to get Miss Graham! Cupid, protect us! He can only blunder through a denial, and faintly smile away the horrible impeachment. Going to get Miss Graham! To hear her whom he has pictured as the ideal, the angelic, thus spoken of as a mere Miss, capable of being married! To be himself brought-he, the boy SATURDAY, AUGUST 8, 1835. amed ald PRICE THREE HALFPENCE. ish, the bashful, who but last year could hardly face neral, very jealous respecting their own interests, and One of the earliest of the troubles to which the youth thus unwittingly subjects himself, is the very raillery which usually gives him the first notice of his situation. To the gross and inconsiderate world, that appears only a good joke which to him is a matter of the most profound and affecting sentiment. They accordingly scruple not to assail him with innumerable waggeries, which, though he might have been most ready to join in them had the case been another's, now give him all the pain which a pagan worshipper feels at seeing his idols treated disrespect fully. Under these profanations of his most sacred and endeared idea, he has to writhe up to the marriage day, long ere which they are apt to be lost sight of in other thick-coming miseries, the grandest of which usually arises from the friends of the parties. Who, I would ask, ever heard such a sentence as, "Mr Wilson is engaged to Miss Smith," without its being immediately followed by another, "And I hear the friends are," &c.-ten to one, something to the old tune of the course of true love never did run smooth. One thing may be calculated upon for certain, that the friends of one of the parties are dissatisfied, seeing that those very circumstances which conciliate the one side, make the opposite party think themselves wronged. Men are reputed to be, in ge married next week; but she is terribly perplexed about her friends. She does not like to have a racket, and the room, too, is small; but, then, how to make a selection ? She cannot have her aunt Thomson's family without having her uncle Johnson's. For every Black she asks, she must have a White; and you know the Blacks and the Whites were at daggersdrawing all last winter. And then there are Mr Wilson's friends also to be attended to, who are such strange people-she does not think they will agree at all with her own friends. In short, it is quite a dilemma." Uncles, moreover, expect their advice to be taken about the situation of a house, and aunts about the choice of curtains and crockery; and the gentle man must drag his bride through fifty streets he never was in before, to visit friends whom he has not seen more than once since he was a child, but the half of whom, feeling a reviving interest in him at the present crisis of his life, are mortally offended, if he do not pay them a proper degree of homage. The unfor tunate youth has perhaps lived all his days happily, without reflecting that he had friends: they were people out of his sight and out of his mind, and all connection appeared to have ceased. If he had any acquaintance of them at all, it was only kept up by a nod of recognition once in three or four years across the grave of some mutual kinsman; and having parted at one churchyard gate, he never met them again till they were thronging in at another. But as a battle taking place in a habitually peaceful country would be sure to collect the usual birds of prey, even though they had previously appeared to be extirpated, so does a marriage call up thousands of these friends, with their dim and half-forgotten claims of notice and courtesy. He now hears of cousins, nephews, and grand-aunts-in-law, whose names he scarcely knew before; and as the very novelty and singularity of the circumstances render it difficult to give to each the exact degree of attention that is due, he is sure to send four-fifths of them back to their customary obscurity, with pleas of offence, of which perhaps he does not enjoy the full benefit till his own children are to be wedded, when the whole circumstances are of course renewed. Another trouble arises from acquaintances. The gentleman and the lady have both had acquaintances, with whom they have respectively lived very happily till now. Marriage, however, alters the face of one's visiting list. There is, be it observed, an eclat in being |