"I'll do that,” replied the boy; and he withdrew to execute his commission. About three months after, Captain Chillingham's regiment received orders to proceed to Portsmouth, where it was to be embarked for Gibraltar. On the morning of their leaving the castle, James presented himself before his patron, from whom he had experienced much kindness, and to whom he was greatly attached, to take leave of him, which the warm-hearted boy did with tears in his eyes. His feelings were still more excited, when his patron, the captain, made him a present of a seven-shilling piece, in recompense for any extraordinary trouble which he might have had with his commissions. As this was the first gold coin which Jemmy had ever been in possession of, his gratitude was immeasurable; and after thanking and making his best bow to one who had shown him such kindness, he departed to his home at the head of the Cowgate, one of the happiest boys in Edinburgh. It would not further our story, nor is it in any way essential to it, to enumerate the various destinations to which Captain Chillingham's regiment was as signed during the following ten years, but it is essential to state, that at the end of this period it was ordered to the East Indies. During this long interval, Cap- | tain Chillingham had never once been in England; but his constitution was now so much shattered by the vicissitudes of climate to which he had been so long exposed, that he found it necessary, after he had been in India about two months, to solicit leave to return home for the benefit of his health. Having obtained this indulgence, he embarked at Bombay with a party who were about to proceed to England by the way of the Red Sea, where they were to disembark, and proceed overland, through part of Arabia and Egypt, to Alexandria. strange personage had begun to make certain confused "Can it be possible that you are that person?" "But," said Captain Chillingham, after a little more interesting parts of Egypt. This foreign expedition was exactly the sort of thing which jumped with the erratic humour of the lad, and he accordingly proceeded with great good will with his master. Most unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, for Campbell, his master died in the course of his travels, by which event he was suddenly thrown upon his own resources. In these circumstances he applied for assistance and advice to the Pasha of Kennah, who, struck with his personal appearance, which was singularly prepos sessing, and with his intelligence, proposed, half jestingly and half in earnest, that he should remain where he was, and that he would procure him some military appointment under the Turkish government. Campbell at once closed with the offer; and his appearing in the character in which we have latterly exhibited him, was the result. When met in the Desert by Mr Chillingham, he had been nearly seven years in the Turkish service; and in that time he had raised himself, by his bravery and good conduct, from one of the lowest commands in the army of that power, to the distinguished station he filled at the period alluded to in our story, and was, as already noticed, looked upon as one in the high road to further preferment. THE BASTILE. [The editors, while they think it necessary to mention that there is nothing fictitious in this story but the names, cannot help pointing to it as an exemplification of the advantage which often accrues, unexpectedly, from conduct for which there was no other motive than general benevolence. The kindness which the officer manifested towards his temporary servant, in obedience simply to the demands of good feeling, was unquestionably the means of saving him, in a later period of life, and in a remote part of the world, from a very great misfortune; and he thus purchased, The ship in which Captain Chillingham sailed at little else than a sentimental expeuse, what nothing with his party, which consisted of five persons, arelse perhaps could have obtained for him, and what rived safely at Cossier, where they landed, and made he certainly would have wanted, if he had happened preparations for crossing the Desert. At the close of to be a man of churlish nature, or one who looked the second day after their debarkation, these preparaupon his inferiors as a set of beings with whom he tions were completed, and the travellers proceeded on was expected to entertain no sympathy. It is thus their journey, accompanied by a long line of camels "Oh, but you mistake, Mr Chillingham," replied made clear that the man of kind nature, while exloaded with their luggage, and a week's supply of pro- Campbell, hastily; "these men, though they have posed, it may be allowed, to some hazards through visions for themselves and attendants. During the attacked you, certainly, for the purpose of plundering its operation, is also liable to reap from it great adtwo subsequent days, nothing of any consequence oc- you, are not robbers by profession: they are soldiers vantages; sowing, as it were, with gracious and soothcurred to the travellers in the Desert. They met in- in the pay of the Turkish government, and I am ing words, seeds which may afterwards grow up to his deed with several straggling Arabs and Turks mounted their commander; but they could not resist the temp-hand in splendidly compensatory benefits.] on horseback, and armed to the teeth, but these al-tation of spoiling you, such opportunities rarely com ways conducted themselves civilly towards them, and ing in their way; and it would have been more than generally went off after two or three words of cour- my life was worth to have attempted to prevent them; tesy. On the third day, however, just as the travel- but I will have every rascal of them soused for this lers were preparing to bivouack for the night, they when we get to Cossier. I shall have the head taken were thrown into a state of great alarm by suddenly from the shoulders of every tenth man of them at descrying a large body of armed and mounted Arabs, least, and the rest bastinadoed till they cannot stand; who rapidly approached them, and when within musket that they may depend upon. In the meantime, Capshot, halted, as if to reconnoitre, and arrange some tain Chillingham," continued Campbell, "I shall try, plan of attack. They then formed themselves into a though at the risk of having my throat cut, to save crescent, conched their spears, and in the next instant your property, at any rate, from their clutches, if you dashed at full gallop into the midst of the caravan, will be good enough to point it out to me. That of encircling it at the same time, so as to prevent the your friends, if it can be recovered at all, must be escape of any of the party. A number of the troop recovered by other means. What these means are, next dismounted, and commenced plundering the lug. gage of the travellers, and in a few minutes the ground was covered with opened and rifled packages. During this operation, he who seemed to be the leader of the troop, a remarkably fine-looking man of about six or eight-and-twenty years of age, and splendidly attired in the Turkish military fashion, remained at a short distance from the spoilers, in whose proceedings he took no part, and, indeed, seemed to take no interest. There was one object, however, which appeared to engross an extraordinary share of his attention: this was Captain Chillingham. On this gentleman he continued gazing with an earnestness, and an expression of inquiry, that both attracted the notice and greatly surprised him who was the subject of it. Nor was this surprise by any means lessened, when he saw the Turkish or Arabian chieftain, or whatever he was, suddenly put spurs to his horse, and advance towards him at full gallop. On observing this, Captain Chillingham's first impression was, that he was about to be attacked, and he instinctively drew a pistol from his belt, cocked it, and held it in readiness in his hand to discharge it at his supposed enemy. The Turk on approaching nearer observed this indication of hostility on the part of the captain, and waved his hand impatiently to deprecate any inimical intentions. Captain Chillingham understood the sign, and imme. diately dropped the point of his weapon. In the next instant, the Turkish leader was beside him; and what was his amazement, when the former, looking at him again attentively for a moment, said in a low whisper, and in as good English as he himself could have spoken, "Pray, sir, are you not Captain Chillingham of the 29th regiment of foot ?" It was some time before the extreme surprise of the latter, at being thus addressed by a Turk in full military costume, and in the middle of the deserts of Arabia, would permit his making any reply. At length, however, he stammered out that he certainly was the person who had just been named. I thought so," replied the Turk; and immediately added smilingly, "Do you not recollect me, captain? Look at me again;" and he now raised his turban high on his forehead, to give a fuller view of his coun I shall mention before parting. Which are your collusion amongst his own men by any of his com- Having said this, and once more bidden an affec- The travellers pursued their journey. They stopped at Thebes, as they had been recommended to do by Campbell; and within the time he had mentioned, the whole of their property, with the exception of some trifling articles, was restored to them; but from this moment, neither Captain Chillingham nor any of his party ever saw or heard more of the son of the Edinburgh caddie, alias Abdel Hassan the Turkish commander, further than that he was in bigh favour with the Turkish government, and in a fair way of becoming a very great man. There only remains to be added to this little narrative some account of the circumstances which led to so extraordinary a change in the condition of the principal subject of it. Young Campbell, who was naturally of an enterprising turn, and whose appetite for travelling had been excited by some of the stories in the Collections" he had perused, by way of les. "No, upon my word I do not," said Chillingham; sons, at the school at the foot of the Bow, had been "that is, perhaps, I think-" and here he became ex-employed as a servant to an English gentleman of tremely perplexed, for some of the features of this | large fortune, about to set out on a tour through the tenance. | A NECESSARY adjunct of the arbitrary system whieh existed in France before the Revolution, was the state-prison termed the BASTILE, which was situ ated at the eastern gate of Paris, and consisted of several strong towers, surrounded by walls, a fosse, and other defences proper to a large fortress. It was originally built in 1370, though much enlarged afterwards; and it is remarkable that Hugh d'Aubriot, mayor of Paris, who was its original architect, was the first person confined in it. In the latter reigns of the French monarchy, it was under the superintendence of a governor, and an officer called the Lieutenant du Roi; it was garrisoned by a company of invalids, with proper officers; and there were also a physician, a surgeon, an engineer, a clerk, and a certain number of turnkeys and inferior officials. The apartments for prisoners were ranged above each other in the towers, and were usually about eighteen feet in extent, with one small grated window, being furnished with little besides a bed and a table. In the bottom of each tower, nearly on a level with the putrid ditch without, was a stone-constructed dungeon, in which were immured, without light or fire, such prisoners as had attempted to make their escape, or for whom a particular rigour was on any other account thought necessary. Down to the reign of Louis XVI., when a milder system commenced, the French monarchs and their ministers were in the custom of consigning obnoxious individuals, without compunction or form of law, to the horrors of this prison, whence, in very rare instances, were they ever after set at large. The French were in reality in those days so obedient to the government, that there was seldom occasion to take this means of punishing any thing like a positive state offence. The most of the prisoners were officers or employés, who had hesitated, on conscientious grounds, to obey the orders of their superiors; persons who had incurred, from whatever cause, the personal wrath of the king, his minister, or his mistress; and humble and innocent citizens, who might perhaps have allowed themselves to discuss too freely the measures of the government. If any purpose was to be served, or any passion to be gratified, even a word or a look was reckoned a suffi cient cause of imprisonment. The sole form requisite for the seizure and incarceration of a subject of France, was the issuing of a lettre de cachet, in which the king addressed the individual aimed at with a few words expressing his dissatisfaction with his conduct, and a desire that he should surrender himself in his castle of the Bastile, there to remain till further orders. These terrible letters were always delivered by persons who had the means of enforcing the request, and it is somewhat surprising that they were occasionally executed in other countries than France. A Leyden printer was seized in Holland by the command of Louis XIV., for printing a satire on his majesty, and conveyed to the prison of St Michel in Normandy, where he spent many years in a narrow cage of wood, till death put a period to his sufferings. An Armenian patriarch was seized at Constantinople, during the same reign, and died a prisoner in Paris. Nay, so lately as 1752, a lettre de cachet, obtained for private purposes, was executed in London on a M. Bertin de Fratteaux, who, being conveyed thence to the Bastile, remained a prisoner for the rest of his life. Each prisoner, on arriving at the Bastile, was examined before the Lieutenant du Roi, and commanded to give up every valuable he possessed, lest he might employ them to corrupt the keepers, as also his penknife or any other weapon with which he might be able to kill either himself or others. During this ceremony, the officers who were present, utterly regardless of the terror and apprehension appearing in every look and motion of the prisoner, commonly indulged themselves in a brutal pleasantry as the different articles were produced. It was then inquired what room was empty, and on receiving a proper answer, the wretched individual was conducted to his apartment. Here many would remain for months before they obtained the privilege of being shaved, which could not be done without a direct order from the minister of Paris. Clothes, furniture, and faggots, being supplied by the governor out of an allowance made by the king, generally became the subject of fraud with that officer, and were often given so scan. tily that the prisoners used to suffer grievously from cold. It would appear, however, that the inmates of the Bastile suffered more in the mind than in the body. On entering the gloomy fortress, they passed at once into a state of complete exclusion from the world. If the friends of the prisoner inquired after him, it was denied, even with oaths and imprecations, that he was in confinement; and the governor has been known to express his astonishment that they should suppose him to be in the Bastile. The only persons who visited the prisoners were the turnkeys and officers of the house. On these occasions, the most insidious questions were put to them, and their answers, carefully remembered, were afterwards written down. No one was allowed to approach them, in whom they could confide, or from whom they could ask advice. They never again heard of their nearest relations, nor did their nearest relations ever again hear of them. Day after day, year after year, passed on, and the unhappy prisoner knew not his offence, or the period of his punishment, or the condition of those in whom he was most interested. Roused, perhaps, by the hope of liberty, offered to him on the condition of his acknowledging guilt and betraying his accomplices, he might indulge in a momentary transport; but, finding that his keepers had only deceived him, he would sink into an unchangeable melancholy, which at length overpowered his reason. Many of the prisoners, however, from peculiarity of constitution, bore their sufferings better than others, and would even contrive to find amusement in their soli tary cells. mates. Re surprise and unbounded joy. On one old man alone An account of a still more interesting prisoner, and BIOGRAPHIC SKETCHES. THOMAS TELFORD. How frequently have we had to record that it is to Though Mr Telford afterwards abandoned the thriftless trade of versifying, he is said to have retained through life a strong "frater-feeling" for the corps, which he showed in a particular manner on the death of Burns, in exertions for the benefit of his family. Having completed his apprenticeship as a stonemason in his native place, he repaired to Edinburgh, where he found employment, and continued, with unremitting application, to study the principles of architecture, agreeably to the rules of science. Here he remained until the year 1782, when, having made a considerable proficiency, he left the Scottish capital, and went to London under the patronage of Sir Wil. liam Pulteney (originally Johnstone) and the family of Pasley, who were natives of the parish of Westerkirk. Telford now found himself in a scene which presented scope for the efforts of his talents and industry. Fortunately he did not long remain unnoticed or unemployed. His progress was not rapid, but it was steady, and always advancing; and every opportunity of displaying his taste, science, and genius, extended his fame, and paved the way to new enterprises and acquisitions. The first public employment in which he was engaged was that of superintending some works belonging to government in Portsmouth dock yard. The duties of this undertaking were discharged with so much fidelity and care as to give complete satisfaction to the commissioners, and to ensure the future exercise of his talents and services. Hence, in 1787, he was appointed surveyor of the public works in the rich and extensive county of Salop; and this situa tion he retained till his death. A detail of the steps by which Mr Telford subsequently placed himself at the head of the profession of engineering, would most likely only tire our readers. It is allowed on all hands that his elevation was owing solely to his consummate ability and persevering industry, unless we are to allow a share in the process to the singular candour and integrity which marked every step in his career. His works are so numerous all over the island, that there is hardly a county in England, Wales, or Scotland, in which they may not be pointed out. The Menai and Conway bridges, the Caledonian canal, the St Katharine's docks, the Holyhead roads and bridges, the Highland roads and bridges, the Chirke and Pontcysulte aqueducts, the canals in Salop, and great works in that county, are some of the traits of his genius which occur to us, and which will immortalise the name of Thomas Telford.. Telford's genius. In the year 1808, he was employed Nor was the British empire alone benefited by Mr by the Swedish government to survey the ground, and lay out an inland navigation through the central parts of that kingdom. The design of this undertaking was to connect the great fresh-water lakes, and to form a direct communication by water between the North Sea and the Baltic. This gigantic undertaking he fully accomplished, with the assistance of experienced British workmen. The histories of the Bastile are full of attempts made to train spiders by supplying them with food; and to satisfy the craving of the faculties for Thomas Telford was born in the year 1757, in the exercise, by ascertaining the dimensions of the room, parish of Westerkirk, in the pastoral vale of Eskdale, or counting in different directions the studs upon the a district in the county of Dumfries. His parents door. Some have spent whole days in pouring water from one dish into another, or in disposing in fanciful occupied a station in the humble walks of life, which, arrangements the pieces of which their faggots were however, they filled with becoming respectability. composed. In later and more humane times, the ri- The outset in life of their son Thomas corresponded gour of the confinement was in some instances abated to their situation in society, and was strikingly humafter a certain space. The prisoners were allowed to ble and obscure in comparison with its close. He bewalk daily for an hour in one of the courts, though still within view of a soldier or guard. If any strangan the world as a working stone-mason in his native ger appeared, they were obliged instantly to retire. parish, and for a long time was only remarkable for By applying to the lieutenant of the police, they might the neatness with which he cut the letters upon those obtain permission to attend mass, which was performed frail sepulchral memorials which "teach the rustic at least every Sunday in the chapel belonging to the moralist to die." His occupation, fortunately, afcastle. They were conducted separately from their apartments, and sat in covered niches, where they forded a greater number of leisure hours than what could hear without being seen. Some were allowed are usually allowed by such laborious employments, the conveniency of pens, ink, and paper, and were and these young Telford turned to the utmost advanpermitted to write to their friends; but all their let-tage in his power. Having previously acquired the ters passed through the hands of the lieutenant of the elements of learning, he spent all his spare time in kind in the world. They connect the land with the police, by whom they were frequently opened and read, so that few of them reached the persons for whom they were intended. They likewise had the use of books from a library founded by a prisoner in the beginning of the last century, and augmented by the contributions of his successors. It consisted of about five hundred volumes. Some of the captives were permitted to read in the library, while others had the books brought to them by their keepers. After much and frequent solicitation, a prisoner of scientific taste obtained the use of mathematical instruments; but on inspecting the case, he found that the compasses were exceedingly small, and made of bone. There is one passage in the history of the Bastile, without which this branch of our article might be reckoned incomplete. We shall therefore give it in as few words as possible :-Louis XVI., at the commencement of his reign, ordered the registers of the Bastile to be examined, and a number of prisoners to be set at liberty. The intelligence was received with poring over such volumes as fell within his reach, Nor pass the tentie curious lad, Thy country's sons, who far are spread, cipally spread in Great Britain by his great work, Mr Telford's fame as a civil engineer has been printhe Dublin road from London to Holyhead, including the Menai and Conway bridges. The Menai bridge, one of the greatest wonders of art in England, is un. questionably the most imperishable monument of his capacity for extensive undertakings. This bridge is constructed over the small strait of the sea which inthe island of Anglesea, and carries the road which proceeds onward to Holyhead. Before its erection, the communication was carried on by means of ferryboats, and was therefore subject to delays and even dangers. The bridge is at a point near the town of Bangor, from near which its appearance is strikingly grand. It is built partly of stone and partly of iron, on the suspension principle, and consists of seven stone arches, exceeding in magnitude every work of the two main piers, which rise 53 feet above the level of the road, over the top of which the chains are suspended, each chain being 1714 feet from the fastenings in the rock. The first three-masted vessel passed under the bridge in 1826. Her topmasts were nearly as high as a frigate ; but they cleared 12 feet and a half below the centre of the roadway. The suspending power of the chains was calculated at 2016 tons; the total weight of each chain, 121 tons. This stupendous undertaking occasioned Mr Telford more intense thought than any other of his works: he told a friend (Dr James Cleland) that his state of anxiety for a short time previous to the opening of the bridge was so extreme, that he had but little sound sleep, and that a much longer continuance of that condition of mind must have undermined his health. Not that he had any reason to doubt the strength and stability of every part of the structure, for he had employed all the precautions that he could imagine useful, as suggested by his own experience and consideration, or by tervenes betwixt the mainland of North Wales and | had for some years been subject, and which at length lost. "At it again, my boys!-steady-steady- the zeal and talents of his very able and faithful as- ments. The Caledonian canal is another of Mr Telford's splendid works, in constructing every part of which, though prodigious difficulties were to be surmounted, he was successful. But even this great work does not redound so much to his credit as the roads throughout the same district. That from Inverness to the county of Sutherland, and through Caithness, made not only, so far as respects its construction, but its direction, under Mr Telford's orders, is superior, in point of line and smoothness, to any part of the road of equal continuous length between London and Inverness. This is a remarkable fact, which, from the great difficulties he had to overcome in passing through a rugged, hilly, and mountainous district, incontrovertibly establishes his great skill in the engineering department, as well as in the construction of great public communications. The genius of this distinguished engineer, as has been stated, was not confined to his profession. Dr Currie says, in his Life of Burns, "A great number of manuscript poems were found among the papers of Burns, addressed to him by admirers of his genius, from different parts of Britain, as well as from Ireland and America. Among these was a poetical epistle from Shrewsbury, of superior merit. It is written in the dialect of Scotland (of which country Mr Tel. ford is a native), and in the versification generally employed by our poet himself. Its object is to recommend to him other subjects of a serious nature, similar to that of the Cottar's Saturday Night,' and the reader will find that the advice is happily enforced by example. It would have given the editor pleasure to have inserted the whole of this poem, which he hopes will one day see the light; he is happy to have obtained, in the meantime, his friend Mr Telford's permission to insert the following extracts."-Then come the permitted extracts, from which the subjoined, written at Shrewsbury, is selected : "Pursue, O Burns, thy happy style, When tender joys, with pleasing smile, And through the wood No distant Swiss with warmer glow Than still have mine, With songs of thine. O happy bard! thy gen'rous flame Was given to raise thy country's fame; For this thy charming numbers came-Thy matchless lays : Then sing, and save her virtuous name To latest days." Mr Telford was not more remarkable for his great professional abilities than for his sterling worth in private life. His easiness of access, and the playfulness of his disposition, even to the close of life, endeared him to a numerous circle of friends, including all the most distinguished men of his time. He was the patron of merit in others, wherever it was to be found; and he was the means of raising many deserving individuals from obscurity to situations where their talents were seen and soon appreciated. Up to the last period of his life, he was fond of young men and of their company, provided they delighted in learning. His punctuality was universal, a very rare quality in men of genius. In the course of his busy life he taught himself Latin, French, and German. He understood algebra well, but thought that it led too much to abstraction, and too little to practice. Mathematical investigation he also held rather cheaply, and always, when practicable, resorted to experiment to determine the relative value of any plans on which it was his business to decide. He delighted in employing the vasc in nature to contribute to the accommodation of man; yet he did not despise minutiæ-a poin; too seldom attended to by projectors. For some years before his death, he gradually retired from professional employment, and he latterly amused his leisure hours by writing a detailed account of the principal undertakings which he had planned and lived to see executed. This work, illustrated with plates, is, we believe, in a state of forwardness for publication. The immediate cause of Mr Telford's death was a repetition of severe bilious attacks, to which he ADVENTURE WITH A WHALE. seaport in the state of Massachusetts; among the rest shot up alongside of the English boat; but the honour of the nation, too, was at stake; they bent to their oars with fresh vigour. Five athletic Englishmen, each with a bare chest that would have served for the model of a Hercules-with arms of brawn and sinewswayed their oars with a precision and an earnestness that for a minute left the contest doubtful. The Eng. lish commander, seeing how effectually Seth managed the stroke-oar with his foot, braced himself in a simi. The noble animal-for it was a right whale of the lar attitude of exertion, and his boat evidently gained its food from time to time, and annihilating its thou-speed of his rival with dismay. The whale, too, was largest class-held on its course up the bay, scooping upon the Nantucketer. Seth saw the increase of sands of smell fish at a dive; leaving the boats far in just rising ahead. The bubbles of his blowing, and the rear, and darting off in new directions, until those of his efforts at rising, were beginning to ascend. It who were most on the alert, or rather those who pulled was a moment of intense anxiety. The rushing the most constantly, were fain to give up the chase, train or vortex of water told that he was near the Intent upon his prey, the and to lie on their oars. whale appeared unconscious of the dangerous vicinage of the ships, and played among them with a temerity which evinced a tameness, or perhaps an ignorance of its danger, that plainly showed he had never been chased by the whaler, nor hurt by the harpoon. The animal, gorged with its fishy meal, at last commenced its retreat from the bay; and the boats manœuvred to head him off as he retired. Obeying the instinct of his nature, he now showed his looks, and vanished from the sight before the boats could get within striking distance. A calculation being made where he would next appear (for beneath the water the whale does not deviate from a direct line in his horizontal progress), a general race ensued; and each strove, as if life were on the issue, to arrive first upon the spot. found the foremost boats a fuil mile behind the whale Some twenty minutes' steady and vigorous pulling when he rose again to breathe. Several boats were unluckily ahead of Seth (of Nantucket) in the chase, as their position at starting enabled them to take the lead when the animal began to push for deeper water. But Seth's men had been resting on their oars, while nearly all the others had exhausted their strength in following the whale among the ships; and the captain judged rightly, that, in darting after his tiny prey, he would lead them all a bootless dance. He had determined to wait for the retreat, and then to hang upon the rear of the enemy. surface. Both commanders encouraged their men anew by a single word; and then, as if by mutual consent, all was silent, except the long, measured, and vigorous stroke of the oars. "For old England, my lads!" shouted the one. "Remember old Nantucket, my boys!" was the war-cry of the other. Both plied their oars with apparently equal skill; but the hot. Englishman lost his temper as the boat of Seth shot up again head and head with him, and he surged his foot so heavily upon the after-oar, that it broke off short in the rowlock! The blade of the broken oar became entangled with the others on the same side, while the after-oarsman lost his balance, and fell backward upon his leader. "I bid thee good-bye!" said Seth, as he shot ahead. An oath was vociferated by the Englishman. Way enough-peak your oars!" said Seth to his men. The oars bristled apeak, after the fashion of the whale-fishermen. The harpooner immediately seized and balanced his weapon over his head, and planted himself firmly in the bow of the boat. At that instant the huge body of the whale rose above the surface; and Seth, with a single turn of his steering-oar, brought the bow dead upon the mouster, a few feet aback of the fin. Simulta neously with the striking of the boat, the well-poised harpoon was launched deep into the flesh of the ani. mal. "Starn all !" shouted Seth. The boat was backed off in an instant; and the whale, feeling the sting of the barb, darted off like the wind! The well-coiled line flew through the groove of the bowpost with incomparable swiftness, and it presently began to smoke, and then to blaze, with the rapidity of the friction. Seth now took the bow with his lance, exchanging places with the harpooner, and quietly poured water upon the smoking groove, until it was cooled. The oars were again peaked, and the handles inserted in brackets fixed on the ceiling of the boat beneath the thwaits, the blades projecting over the water like wings; and the men, iumovable, rested from their long but successful pull: and much need did they have of the relief, for a more arduous or better contested chase they had never experienced. The line in the tub was now well-nigh run out; and the boat-steerer, with a thick buckskin mitten or nipper, as it is called, for the protection of his hand, seized hold of the line, and, in a twinkling, caught a turn round the loggerhead, to enable the man at the tub-oar to bend on another line. The rapidity of the animal's ploughed deeply and laboriously, leaving banks of water on each side, as she parted the wave, that overtopped the men's heads, and effectually obscured the sight of every object on the surface. The swell of the closing water came after them in a heavy and angry rush. The second line was now allowed to run slowly from the loggerhead; and a drag, or plank about eighteen inches square, with a line proceeding from each corner, and meeting at a point like a pyramid, was fastened to it, and thrown over to deaden the speed of the whale. Another and another drag were added, until the animal, feeling the strong backward pull, began to relax his efforts; and presently he suddenly descended, though not to the full extent of the slackened line. It now became necessary to haul in the slack of the line, and to coil it away in the tub carefully; while the men pulled with their oars, to come up with the whale when he should rise to the surface. There were others, however, acquainted with the soundings of the bay, whose tactics were scarce inferior to Seth's; and the advantage gained over him by several boats was proof of this, or at least of the superior accuracy of their calculations. It was a long time since Seth had given chase to an animal of the right whale breed: he had grappled of late only with the spermaceti; and therefore it was not to be wondered at, at this time, and under the circumstances, that some around him should beat him in manœuvr ing in the bay. But, in the steady chase, he knew that he could count upon the speed and bottom of his boat's crew, and he was now resolved to contest for the victory. "We have a clear field now, my boys -give way steadily-we gain upon them-give the long pull, the strong pull, and the pull together-keep her to it-heave ahead, my hearties!" Such were the words of Seth, as, with eyes steadily fixed upon a certain point, and with his steering-oar slightly dipped at times, he guided the light whale-boat unerringly towards the place where he expected the whale to re-flight the while was inconceivable. The boat now appear. One by one he had dropped his antagonists by the way, until three only remained, manfully struggling between him and the prize. The whale again breathed at the surface, and the distance between the headmost boat and the animal was found to be diminished to half a mile, while the ships in the bay were run "hull down." The pursuers were now out upon the broad ocean. Those who had abandoned the chase in despair were slowly returning to their ships. The rigging of the vessels was manned by anxious spectators, watching the motions of the tiny specks out at sea with beating hearts. The whale again cast his flooks into the air, and sunk from the view of his pursuers. Now came the tug of war. "You must beat those foreigners ahead," said Seth to his men, "or crack your oars: they are of good American ash, and will bear pulling," continued he: "Give way with a will!-pull-pull, my lads; that whale will not sink again without a harpoon in his body; and 'twill never do to tell of at home that we allowed men of other nations to beat us. Keep your eyes steadily on your oars; mark the stroke of the after-oar, men and give way for the credit of the Grampus!" Here Seth braced himself in the sternsheets, seized the steering-oar with his left hand, and placed his right foot against the after-oar, just below the hand of the oarsman. "Now pull for your lives!" said he, "while I add the strength of my leg to the oar :-once more!-Again, my boys!-once morethere we pass the Spaniard!" claimed the mortified native of Spain. The additional momentum of Seth's foot, applied to the stroke-oar, had done the job; but two more boats were to be passed-and quickly tec-or all the labour would be "Diabolo!" ex All things were soon ready again for the deadly attack. The ripple of the whale, as he ascended, was carefully marked; and when he again saw the light of day, a deep wound, close to the barbed harpoon, was instantly inflicted by the sharp lance of Seth. It was the deathblow. "Starn all!' was the cry once more-and the boat was again quickly backed off by the oarsmen. The infuriated animal roared in agony, and lashed the ocean into foam. The blood gushed from his spout-holes, falling in torrents on the men in the boat, and colouring the sea. The whale, in his last agony, is a fearful creature. He rose perpendicularly in the water, head downwards, and again writhed and lashed the sea with such force, that the people in the retreating boats, though ten miles distant, heard the thunder of the sound distinctly! The exertion was too violent to last long; it was the signal, of his dissolution. His lifeblood ceased to flow, and he turned his belly to the sun. The waif of the Grampus floated triumphantly above the body of the slaughtered Leviathan of the deep-and the peril of the hardy crew was over. GAME BIRDS. [From Sir William Jardine's Naturalist's Library.] AMONG the extensive tribe of Gallinaceous birds are the Tetraonida, or Grouse, being the principal part of that class of birds which in sporting language have been called game. "Very few of these have been domesticated for the use of man, but their preservation in a wild state, and means for an abundant capture, have in all ages exercised the ingenuity of the inhabitants of civilised districts, and at this time form a large account in the luxuries of populous cities; while in countries in a state of purer nature, they are much used as a wholesome and general food. Among the true Gallinaceous birds, we find the different members living very much upon the ground, the power of flight limited, from the great weight of their bodies or unwieldiness of plumage, and very commonly an extraordinary developement of the parts composing the tail. In the present family, the ground is still their prevailing habitation, though many of them frequently perch and roost on trees. Their power of flight is ample, very strong, in some, as the genus Pterocles; extremely rapid, but in a few forms almost as little used, as among the Pavonidæ. Some portion of these useful birds are spread over every re. gion of the world, and in almost all localities. The section of the grouse to which the muirfowl of Britain and the ptarmigan belong, occupy the wild heathy districts of the temperate circle, and extend to the most barren and alpine mountains, or the extremes of polar cold. The true grouse, again, to which the European wood-grouse belongs, occupy the forest and bushy grounds, and extend almost as far. The partridges prefer open countries free from wood, and draw near to cultivation; but within the tropics there are one or two forms, which, like the grouse, prefer the brush and wood, where, on the branches, they are safer from the attacks of the numerous tribes of reptiles which swarm around them. The gangas, again, or, as they have been named, the sand-grouse, frequent the most barren districts in the world, the plains of India, and the trackless deserts of Africa and Arabia, far from the haunts of men, and almost as far from food and water; but endowed with powers for extensive locomotion, they traverse in a day leagues of the waste. All breed upon the ground, making scarcely any nest, and, with a few exceptions, they lay a number of eggs. In one or two instances, two broods are hatched in the season, but this is rare, and only continues where the regions are very warm. The cry of most of these birds is harsh, in a few deep and hoarse; it is uttered only in the breeding season; in cases of dispersion, and at morn and even like a roll-call to see that none are wanting. The plumage is subject to considerable variation between the males and females during the breeding season; and in those which inhabit northern regions or alpine districts, a change of plumage in winter, different from that of spring or summer, takes place. Among the true grouse, such as the wood-grouse, blackcock, and beautiful birds of America, the males are distinguished by a plumage of deep glossy black, tinted with blue or green, or they have broad and conspicuous patches of these colours mingled with the other shades. The females are invariably of a brown or greyish-brown ground tint, barred or waved with black. The plumage of the young differs from both in being of paler shades, and in the markings being more irregular and contused. In the Lagopus or ptarmigan, the males are deep brown or yellow, barred with black and a lighter shade; females always of a lighter tint, and the paler markings more conspicuous. In winter the change is to pure white, having the quills or tail-feathers only dark. Among the partridges and quails the difference is not gene. rally so great, but there is always some distinguishing mark, often black or deep brown. The wattles, caruncles, and naked spaces, so frequent about the heads of the Pavonidæ, we find represented in the beautiful scarlet skin above the eyes, and which in spring becomes much developed and brightened in colour. With regard to the common partridge, or Perdix cinerea, a detailed description of this familiarly known bird is unnecessary. It is distributed extensively over Europe, and, according to Temminck, extends to Barbary and Egypt, where it is migratory. It is almost every where abundant in our own island, the more northern muiry districts excepted. It follows the steps of man as he reclaims the wastes, and delights in the cultivation which brings to it as to the labourers a plentiful harvest of grain. They are perhaps most abundant in the lower richly cultivated plains of England, but even the south of Scotland supplies many of the more northern markets with this game. Very early in spring-the first mild days even of February the partridges have paired, and each couple may be found near the part selected for their summer abode, long before the actual preparations for incubation have commenced. These are begun at a later period than generally imagined, and even in the beginning of September, particularly in the wilder dis tricts, the young are not more than half-grown. The nest is formed, or rather the spot where the eggs are to be deposited is scraped out in some ready-made hollow or furrow, or placed under cover of a tuft of grass, and from twelve to twenty eggs are deposited. This mode of nidification prevails through the whole genus. No nest is made, and often no great care of concealment is displayed. In cultivated countries the young grasses and corns are their favourite breeding places, the former often fatal from the hay-harvest having commenced before the brood is hatched. The choice of a place of security for their eggs is not always the same, for Montague mentions a pair which successively selected the top of an old pollard oak, and Mr Selby writes of having known several parallel cases. It is a singular trait in the habits of many birds, that those often of a wild nature will select the most frequented parts for their nests. Both partridges and pheasants are often discovered with the nest placed within two or three feet of a highway or footpath, where there is a daily passage of men and animals. The parents, as if knowing their safety depended on sitting close, remain quiet amidst all the bustle, and often hatch in such places. During incubation, the male sedulously attends, and will generally be found near, if the female is intruded upon by any of her less formidable enemies. When the brood is hatched, both lead about the young and assist them to their food; and mild and timid as the partridge is generally described, instances have been seen where the love of offspring prevailed, and a vigorous defence was successfully maintained against a more powerful assailant. Among the many instances of such defence mentioned by various authors, we shall notice one of the latest which Mr Selby has recorded in the last edition of his History of British Ornithology :- Their parental instinct, indeed, is not always confined to mere devices for engaging attention; but where there exists a probability of success, they will fight obstinately for the preservation of their young, as appears from many instances already nar. rated by different writers, and to which the following may be added, for the truth of which I can vouch. A person engaged in a field, not far from my residence, had his attention arrested by some objects on the ground, which, upon approaching, he found to be two partridges, a male and female, engaged in battle with a carrion-crow; so successful and so absorbed were they in the issue of the contest, that they actually held the crow, till it was seized and taken from them by the spectator of the scene. Upon search, the young birds (very lately hatched) were found concealed amongst the grass. It would appear, therefore, that the crow, a mortal enemy to all kinds of young game, in attempting to carry off one of these, had been attacked by the parent birds, and with the above singular success.' Such displays are, however, comparatively seldom witnessed or indeed exercised, for nature has implanted another device in the greater numbers of this family, in which the organs of defence are in reality weak, against their many assailants, both animal and feathered. Stratagem is resorted to, and the parent feigns lameness and even death to withdraw the aggressor. The noise and confusion which occurs when a person suddenly and unawares comes on a young brood of partridges is remarkable. The shrieks of the parents, apparently tumbling and escaping away with broken legs and wings, is well acted, and often succeeds in withdrawing the dog and his young attendant beyond the possibility of discovering the hiding places of the brood. When this is attained, their wonted strength is soon recovered, a flight to a considerable distance is taken, but by the time the aggressor has reached the marked spot, the bird has again circuitously come up with her charge, and is ready to act her part if again discovered. Partridge-shooting is one of the most esteemed sports of the British fowler; and when pursued in a sportsman-like manner, with finely bred dogs, is of considerable interest. The county of Norfolk has been long celebrated for the number of its partridges, as well as for her zealous agriculturist, Mr Coke, one of the first shots in the kingdom." A DROP OF WATER. How common, and yet how beautiful and how pure, is a drop of water! See it, as it issues from the rock, to supply the spring and the stream below. See how its meanderings through the plains, and its torrents over the cliffs, add to the richness and the beauty of the landscape. Look into a factory standing by a waterfall, in which every drop is faithful to perform its part, and hear the groaning and rustling of the wheels, the clattering of shuttles, and the buzz of spindles, which, under the direction of their fair attendants, are supplying myriads of fair purchasers with fabrics from the cotton-plant, the sheep, and the silk-worm. Is any one so stupid as not to admire the splendour of the rainbow, or so ignorant as not to know that it is produced by drops of water, as they break away from the clouds which had confined them, and are making a quick visit to our earth, to renew its verdure and increase its animation? How useful is the gentle dew, in its nightly visits to allay the scorching heat of a summer's sun! And the autumn's frost, how beautifully it bedecks the trees, the shrubs, and the grass; though it strips them of their summer's verdure, and warns them that they must soon receive the buffetings of the winter's tempest! This is but water, which has given up its transparency for its beautiful whiteness and its elegant crystals. The snow, too-what is that but these same pure drops thrown into crystals by winter's icy hand ?—and does not the first summer's sun return them to the same limpid drops? The majestic river, and the boundless ocean, what are they? Are they not made of drops of water? How the river steadily pursues its course from the mountain's top, down the declivity, over the cliff, and through the plain, taking with it every thing in its course! How many mighty ships does the ocean float upon its bosom! How many fishes sport in its waters! How does it form a lodging-place for the Amazon, the Mississippi, the Danube, the Rhine, the Ganges, the Lena, and the Hoang Ho! How piercing are these pure limpid drops! How do they find their way into the depths of the earth, and even the solid rock! How many thousand streams, hidden from our view by mountain masses, are steadily pursuing their courses, deep from the surface which forms our standing place for a few short days! In the air, too, how it diffuses itself! Where can a particle of air be found which does not contain an atom of water! How much would a famishing man give for a few of these pure, limpid drops of water? And where do we use it in our daily sustenance ?-or rather, where do we not use it? Which portion of the food that we have taken during our lives did not contain it? What part of our body, which limb, which organ, is not moistened with this same faithful servant? How is our blood, that free liquid, to circulate through our veins without it? How gladly does the faithful horse, or the patient ox, in his toilsome journey, arrive at the water's brink! And the faithful dog, patiently following his master's track-how eagerly does he lap the water from the clear fountain he meets in his way! The feathered tribe, also-how far and how quick their flight, that they may exchange the northern ice for the same common comfort rendered liquid and limpid by a southern sun! Whose heart ought not to overflow with gratitude to the abundant Giver of this pure liquid, which his own hand has deposited in the deep, and diffused through the floating air and the solid earth? Is it the farmer, whose fields, by the gentle dew and the abundant rain, bring forth fatness? Is it the mechanic, whose saw, lathe, spindle, and shuttle, are moved by this faithful servant? Is it the merchant, on his return from the noise and the perplexities of business to the table of his family, richly supplied with the varieties and the luxuries of the four quarters of the globe, produced by the abundant rain, and transported across the mighty but yielding ocean? Is it the physician, on his administering to his patient some gentle beverage, or a more active healer of the disease which threatens? Is it the clergyman, whose profession it is to make others feel-and that by feeling himself that the slightest favour and the richest blessing are from the same source, and from the same abundant and constant Giver ?—An anonymous American writer. TO A VERY YOUNG FRIEND, WITH A PRESENT OF In brilliant colours Man's career. The dauntless heart, the spotless truth; To the uninitiated in the mysteries of fashionable life, it may be necessary to explain, that the letters P. P. C. are inscribed on a visiting card when the visitor is about to leave the place, being a contraction of Pour prendre conge-to take leave. Column for Young People. THE last time I addressed you it was for the purpose of putting you in the way of learning how to form opinions on those matters of interest and importance which would most likely come under your observation at your entrance into the busy scenes of life. You will recollect that I told you that opinion depended very much on time and place, and that in making up your mind on many points, you will require to keep in view the age in which you live, and the genius of the nation to which you belong. I am now going to show you the reason for attending to these things, and hope my explanations will be the means of sav. ing you from appearing ignorant or ill instructed when you commence taking a share in the conversation of intelligent persons. peo The history of a country describes the origin and advancement of society in that country. It shows how society took the form it now bears-how the ple were once in a state of lawless barbarism-and how, step by step, little by little, sometimes by warlike efforts, at other times by pacific measures, they at length attained a state of civilisation, good order, and peace; in which condition the rights of all are respected. After history has gone thus far, it usually stops. It seldom, if ever, says any thing about the genius of the people whose progress it has been detailing. Now, unless you know something of the genius of a nation, the formal details of the historian are of little use. I shall tell you what is meant by this word genius, when applied to a whole nation. The genius of a nation signifies the tone of mind of the people at large, their peculiar way of thinking and acting, their religious belief, their respect or contempt of the law, their regard for gradations of rank, and so forth. Almost every nation in the world differs in these respects. The genius of one is favourable to law and good order, that of another consists in a turn for fighting and liv. ing on the plunder of neighbours; one shows a genius for habits of industry, while another exhibits a taste for idleness and poverty. All these, and such like varieties of genius, depend in some measure on the situation and climate of a country, on the mixture of races composing its inhabitants, but, I believe, principally on the nature of the events which have occurred in the course of its history; for it is from these events that originate the character of the education of the people, and the institutions which regulate them in their various relations of public and private life. Such is national genius, and such you must seek to determine before settling in your own mind upon what is right or wrong in respect of national usages. A thing may be right abstractly—that is, without reference to the genius and present necessities of a nation-but it may be wrong, decidedly improper, when we apply it to the exigencies or tastes of a particular people. What suits one nation will not suit another, and that is what you should always keep in mind in the forming of your opinions. It is probable that the time will come when all nations will both think and act much alike, and that in the spirit of a ripened intelligence; but it may be one or ten thousand years before mankind reach this condition; and in the meantime it is our duty to make the best of the circumstances in which we as well as others are placed. Let us now illustrate the application of this rule of thought by one or two examples. elevated station or rank. Every one tries to appear if there were a yearning after these follies among man- nourable character consistent with their rank. In with what is. The principles of human nature apply in a similar manner in solving the mystery, why there are men enjoying riches which they never wrought for, and may be undeserving of. They enjoy their possessions by right of inheritance-an arrangement of the highest value in a well-regulated society. If there were no right of inheritance, all that a person would contend for would be merely that which was calculated to support him during life: thus industry would lose its chief spur, idleness would ensue, and national deterioration would be the consequence. No rational mind will maintain that when a father of a family, or any one who has no family, has acquired property, and dies, that it shall belong of right to any or to all who can get possession, by fraud, force, or any other means. Right by inheritance is therefore a proper thing, and must be maintained at all hazards, even although it often enriches fools. It is a right which need not be grudged, for it is seldom that those who never wrought for riches know how to guide them with prudence, and they soon enough reduce themselves to the level of those having only a moderate competence. i that can be said about it. Little more than a hundred years since, the king's advocate for Scotland accused a poor old woman in the county of Caithness of being a witch, and caused her to be tried, condemned, and burnt at a stake. If any public prosecutor ia these more intelligent times were to cause an old woman to be put to death on such a pretence, we would be entitled to call him a monster both of cruelty and ignorance. But we cannot safely apply these epithets to one who lived a century ago, unless we learn that he exceeded the temper of the age; because at that period the laws, the defective state of education, and the influence of early prejudices, concurred to produce atrocities at the thought of which we now cannot help shuddering. We must therefore judge of events by the light of the times in which they occurred. never by the light of an advanced period in national annals. I might bring this point before your understanding Ten years ago, men were in a still more forcible way. hanged for sheepstealing; but the law is altered, and it is now thought wrong to put this class of criminals to death. Men are, however, still hanged for highway robbery; but in ten years hence, the law may be changed, and this class of evil-doers may in a similar manner be saved from the gallows, and punished in some milder way instead. The system of punishment may in this manner go on modifying for a century, and at that distance of time it may happen that no criminal of any description is liable to be executed. But when the gallows and the scaffold are thus no longer in requisition, will the people who live at the time be justified in calling us cruel? Will it be fair for them to say, "Ah, they were a shockingly cruel set of people who lived about the year 1835; they hanged their highwaymen and many other criminals; after half starving the poor wretches, they brought them out of small cells from prisons, and in the presence of great assembled multitudes they hung them up with ropes about their necks, as if they had been dogs, and as if the spectacle were calculated to delight and edify the thousands of beings who looked upon their execution; while we, we who live in the year 1935, by a different course of management, are able to reclaim to who have gone astray." It would be very unfair for the paths of rectitude those unfortunate individuals them to say so; because when we hang people, we do it for the best. We act, not from cruelty, but from the lights of our time. Let this therefore be kept in mind when you are about to pass judgment on the conduct of nations and individuals in past ages of the world. Let it also not be forgotten when forming an opinion of the behaviour of nations in the present day, which are still far behind in regard to civilised usages. From what has been said, I hope you are now sufficiently aware of the propriety of estimating the genius and peculiar necessities of a people when forming an opinion respecting the value of their usages and institutions, as well as of the danger of assenting at once to any proposition, merely because it happens to be maintained by a large mass of society. You cannot but see the necessity for deliberating coolly on many matters of consequence before taking any share in public disquisitions; and I can assure you beforehand, that if you rashly start your opinions in company without taking such a precaution, you will only run the chance of being laughed at for your presumption, and of undergoing the humiliation of altering your ideas as soon as you grow up to the years of sober manhood. It has been contended by some persons that there should be a periodical division of land and property, and that every member of the community shall have an equal share. This is a very ridiculous doctrine. When you look around upon society in this country, If it were understood that at certain periods all kinds you perceive that the people are divided into classes of of property would be divided, no one would exert various degrees of rank and condition; some with himself to store up the fruits of his industry; and the titles of distinction, others without any titles whatever; country would become little better than a desert. Be- One day during the siege of Oporto, a major of the some rich, some poor, and many in a middle state be- sides, supposing a division were actually to take place, Miguelites and two soldiers advanced very gallantly between great wealth and poverty. You perhaps ima- and that all were to be made equal, it is easy to see fore the rest, in an attempt to storm the Scotch post; gine that all this is wrong, and that by natural right all that inequality would immediately ensue, and then but they were shot dead, and their bodies, and some ought to be upon a level. But reflect a little: consider there would be a necessity for a new division; such an ar- others, lay so near the lines, that they soon became the difference of talent among the people individually, rangement would amount to this, that the idle were to be very offensive. Some of the Scotch went to their and turn over in your mind what is the genius of the supported by the industrious, which involves a principle colonel (Shaw), and asked leave to bury them; but he nation. You learn by the perusal of history, that, as so monstrous that it could never be carried into effect. was at first unwilling to grant it, as the Miguelites soon as mankind began to consort together, they be- In all questions of this kind, you must take care not were so inveterate in their opposition as to fire on gan to separate into ranks and conditions: he who to be borne away by the fantastic theories of men, unarmed burying-parties, and they might be shot. was the bravest was made leader or king; he who was who, though perhaps well-meaning in the main, al-Weel, sir," said the men, "let us at ony rate try the most clever or the most prudent became the most low their judgment to be warped by the delusions of to bury the brave little bodie of a major, and the twa wealthy; he who indulged in idleness, or was without a warm imagination. Keep in view the constitution of lads that lie nearest us; they showed themselves to be ability, became the poorest. From this kind of be- human nature and the principles which guide it, mo- gude sodgers." He granted the request, and they acginning all ranks and conditions sprung; and subse-dified as these may happen to be by education and complished their object.-Alexander's Sketches of Porquent events have modified society into what you now the influence of national genius. tugal. see it. You say that this explanation would do very well if we now found that those who enjoy distinctions in rank were the cleverest of the people: if we found that the rich had always wrought for and were therefore most deserving of riches. I am glad you have brought the question to this point. It brings me to the matter of our national genius, and also to that of rank and wealth going by inheritance. Abstractly, honorary titles are contemptible: they are fantastic trappings, which a wise man would not covet. But it is the genius of the British people to love titles and divide society into ranks. Some thousand years hence they may think differently and more wisely; nevertheless, they at present have no such notions, and it would be idle to contend against an existing whim. This love of title pervades the whole of society. The lowest person likes to be designated by the title of Master, or its contraction Mr. The more honorary term Esquire is also readily assumed by all who consider themselves somewhat elevated in the scale of society; and I never yet heard of any one refusing to be created a baronet or a lord. A similar, if not still more striking instance of this species of feeling is found in the universal desire to assume an In order to be able to reason correctly on the events When every shopkeeper had a sign hanging out of history, and form your opinions of the actions of before his door, a dealer in snuff and tobacco, on Fish kings, warriors, statesmen, and other personages of Street Hill, carried on a large trade, especially in topast times, you must endeavour to instruct yourself bacco; for his shop was greatly frequented by sailors with respect to the state of morals, or the genius of from the ships in the river. In the course of time, a society, at the period to which you are called upon to person of the name of Farr opened a shop nearly oprefer. By an inexcusable inattention to this circum-posite, and hung out his sign, inscribed, The best stance, exceedingly few common readers, indeed very tobacco by Farr." This attracted the attention of the few of our best writers, judge correctly of the moving sailors, who left the old shop to buy "the best tobacco events of history. When a person living in the pre- by far." The old shopkeeper, observing that his opsent enlightened age peruses the accounts of the burn- ponent obtained much custom by his sign, had a new ing of men and women in the sixteenth century, for one put up at his door, inscribed, "Far better tobacco holding a particular belief, he is apt to be led away by than the best tobacco by Farr." This had its effect; his feelings, and exclaim that those who caused the his trade returned, and finally his opponent was burning of these men and women were guilty of bar- obliged to give up business-Freemasons' Review. barous and blameable cruelty. Here he probably falls into an error. Were he to investigate the genius of the period, he would find that thousands of pious tender-hearted people considered these burnings to be any thing but cruelties. And what is more, he would find that the party whose members suffered, caused burnings in their turn when they gained the ascendancy. It was the genius of the age to destroy people for not thinking as they were bidden to think, and that is all LONDON: Published, with Permission of the Proprietors, by ORR Stereotyped by A. Kirkwood, Edinburgh. |