viously aware, and which adversity now brought into full play. He rose superior to circumstances, and determined, in place of permitting himself to fall a victim to them, to become their conqueror, by industry and perseverance, in acquiring a knowledge of the profession by which he meant to earn his future livelihood.

In accordance with this noble resolution, he immediately commenced an arduous course of reading, to which he not only devoted the day, but also a large portion of the night, and was soon rewarded for his industry by a feeling of satisfaction with his own conduct, and by an accession of happiness, arising from an active and honourable employment, to which he had been an entire stranger whilst Earl of Glenthorn. He who had before felt every exertion of mind, however slight, an intolerable punishment, now delighted in exercising the thinking and reasoning faculties with which nature had endowed him. The power of motive, too, lightened his labour, and effectually relieved him from that ennui which had embittered his previous life, and rendered all his possessions valueless.

On completing his terms in Ireland, Mr Donoghoe removed to London to finish his legal education in the Temple; and here he perseveringly followed out the rigid course of study which he had so manfully entered on in Dublin, and the result was commensurate with the means employed to attain it. He acquired a complete theoretical knowledge of his profession, which, added to his natural talents, and these were of a very high order, left no doubt of his future success.

When he had finished his terms at the Temple, Mr Donoghoe returned to Dublin, and commenced his caOn his first circuit his reer as a practising lawyer. earnings amounted only to two guineas; but small as this sum was, he received it with delight, as an earnest

of better things to come; for amongst other useful lessons which experience had now taught him, was the important one that pleasure to be enjoyed must be earned. For some time Mr Donoghoe's gains were trifling; but during this time, though winning little money, he was fast gaining a reputation as a sound and able lawyer; and an opportunity at length presented itself, which enabled him to break down the very slender barrier that now interposed between him and an extensive practice. A counsel who had been employed in an important case was suddenly taken ill, and Mr Donoghoe, who was known to have studied the question closely, was called upon by the judge, with the consent of the attornies and other counsel, to supply his place. Mr Donoghoe accepted the invitation, and spoke with an eloquence and ability that excited the highest admiration of the When he had concluded, a buzz of thanks and applause rose around him. The cause was gained, and from that moment he was looked upon as one of the most promising lawyers at the Irish bar. He had therefore now, by the mere force of his own talents, combined with an extraordinary degree of perseverance and resolution, and by the exercise of his natural faculties, fairly surmounted all the difficulties and disadvantages of his singular position. He had been thrown on his own resources, and these he had found sufficient, unaided by either wealth or rank, to conduct him to both riches

court.

and honours, while he had the additional happiness of thinking that the acquisition of these would be the work of his own hands-the proudest and most gratifying of all reflections.

Amongst the influential friends whom Mr Donoghoe was in the habit of visiting at this period, was Lord Y a nobleman possessed of every good quality which can adorn human nature, and who took the warmest interest in the fortunes of Mr Donoghoe. Here the latter was introduced to a Miss Delamere, a young lady of amiable disposition, of great good sense and beauty, and who was, by a singular coincidence, in so far as regarded their meeting, heir-at-law to the Glenthorn estate. An intimacy followed the introduction, which soon afterwards ended in the marriage of the parties.

singular position. He had been thrown on his own re-
sources, and these he had found sufficient, unaided by
either wealth or rank, to conduct him to both riches and
honours, and that by the proudest and most gratifying

course.

DISSECTION OF A CLASSIC POEM.
AKIN to the well-known good fortune of having had
a father born before one, is the advantage of having
been an author a few hundred years ago. It was then
much easier to obtain a respectable literary reputation;
and, moreover, living at a time when authors were
few, he who did succeed made such an impression on
his age, was so much spoken of in all kinds of con-
temporary records, that, even though his works might
cease to be read, his name could never afterwards be
obliterated. It is thus that many names are as fami-
liar in our ears as household words, and are handed
down by us with traditionary veneration to our chil-
dren, while the writings of the individuals who bore
them remain entombed in libraries, and the active
influence of their intellects has long since ceased.
But there are some more provoking cases than this.
We have old authors, whose writings are greatly in-
ferior to those of the present day, and indeed neither
possess any claim upon our sympathies nor are quali-
fied to instruct us, forced by prescriptive usage into
general use, especially among the young, who, it may
be observed, are wilfully surrounded by their elders
with all kinds of obsolete absurdities, and receive the
parting blessing of every expiring prejudice—as if the
human mind were fated to encounter all its worst dif-
ficulties when it was least able to struggle with them.
Meditating lately on this point, it occurred to us that
a good end might be served by a rigid inquiry into
the actual merits of some of those ancients, who so
overshadow and bear down "us youth;" and as it
happened that we were a good deal troubled at one
time with Virgil, and still bear a peculiar kind of
grudge against him, we resolved that upon him, and
particularly upon his celebrated heroic poem, should
our vengeance fall. Of course it is not in our power
to criticise in this place the diction of the Eneid; but
we shall do our best to give our unlettered readers a
notion of what constitutes the action of the poem,
which no one will deny to be an equally important
inatter, and one with which the reason of the reader
has much more to do.

In the first place, there is not one word of truth, and hardly any trace of even natural probability, in The object of the poem the narrative of the Eneid. was to give the most agreeable shape to the self-flattering fables which the Romans cherished respecting their origin as a nation; as if some poet of the present day were to attempt to compose a volume of fine heroics out of those exploded chronicles which trace the British to the Roman Brutus, and represent the Scottish monarchy as founded in the time of Alexander the Great. No existing author could now make such an attempt, because the people know those chronicles to be false, and would not care for the subject-matter of them although they were true; but the Romans in the days of Virgil were ignorant enough to feel pride by In the meantime, Glenthorn castle was one continued a lying account of their origin, and, strange to say, scene of riot and vulgar dissipation. Poor Christy, as we we, though capable of despising such nonsense in reshall still call him, the best natured and most generous fellow in the world, had not sufficient prudence or strength ference to ourselves, are still prostrate in veneration of the nonsense of the Romans. The poem opens with of mind to conduct his own family; his wife filled the a profession on the part of the poet to sing the advencastle with tribes of her vagabond relations, and was himtures of the hero Eneas, in the course of his voyage self carried every night to bed in a state of helpless intoxication; and to add to poor Christy's unhappiness, his from Troy, after its destruction by the Greeks, to the shores of Italy, where he was destined to form those setson "Johnny," for whose sake he had submitted to the tlements from which the Romans derived their origin. misfortune of becoming an earl, had, while in drink, set fire to the curtains of his bed, and perished in the flames Fictitious as this person and all his adventures were, which ultimately consumed the whole castle. Unable they might have perhaps formed the material of a longer to bear with the miseries of his situation, Christy poem which should please the imagination, and even wrote to Mr Donoghoe, who had now assumed the name improve the moral faculties of the reader. But ficof Delamere as more euphonious, to inform him of what tion, to be in any case tolerable, must have probabihad happened. This letter, which was throughout highly lity which the Eneid has not. At the very begincharacteristic of the writer, thus concluded-"I write this ning, a fabulous deity called Juno, represented as the to beg you, being married, of which I give you joy, to queen of heaven, and as a personage of very savage Miss Delamere, that is the hare-at-law, will take possesand revengeful temper, comes forward as the direcsion of all immediately, for I am as good as dead, and will tress of the whole series of events. Being anxious to give no hindrance. I will go back to my forge, and, by the help of God, forget at my work what has passed; patronise a new African settlement called Carthage, and as to my wife, she may go to her own kith and kin, and learning that this was decreed to be eventually if she will not abide by me. I shall not trouble her long; overthrown by a race derived from Troy-remembermay the blessing of God attend you, and come to reigning, moreover, that the Trojan Paris had insulted her over us again, when you will find ine, as heretofore, your by preferring the beauty of Venus to her own-fell loyal foster-brother, CHRISTY DONOGHOE." Juno repairs to Eolus, the god of the winds, whom 'Glenthorn castle is now rebuilding," adds Mr Dela- she requests to raise such a tempest in the Meditermere to the memoir which he all but concludes with the ranean as will be sure to destroy the fleet of Eneas; letter above quoted, "and when it is finished, and when for which service she promises him one of her maids I return thither, I will, if it should be desired by the pub- of honour as a wife. The deity immediately hurls a lic, give a faithful account of my feelings. I flatter mylance at the cave in which he keeps his winds, and lets self that I shall not relapse into indolence; my underthem forth through the rent, so that in a very short standing has been cultivated; I have acquired a taste for while a dreadful tempest arises, by which one ship is convinces me literature; and the example of Lord Y sunk and the rest dispersed. Neptune, however, the that a man may at once be rich and noble, and active and god of the sea, hears in his residence at the bottom happy." the uproar that is going on above, and, indignant at an unauthorised storm, scolds the winds and smooths the ocean, and is even so kind as to send a few Tritons to push the vessels off the sandbanks on which they

He had therefore now, by the mere force of his own talents, combined with extraordinary industry and perseverance, and by the exercise of his natural faculties, fairly surmounted an the difficulties and disadvantages of his

had stuck. The Trojans then get ashore on the coast of Lybia, but in a very distressed condition.

Venus, the goddess of beauty, who is represented as the mother of Æneas, now comes in tears before her father Jupiter, and complains of the mischief which his spouse was working against her son; in counteraction, too, she alleged, of a heavenly decree formerly issued in favour of Eneas. Jupiter consoles his fair daughter, and sends his messenger Mercury to procure a. favourable reception for Æneas at the court of Carthage. Venus then puts on the disguise of a huntress, and throws herself in the way of her son, as he wanders with his friend Achates on the Lybian coast. She represents herself as a member of the Carthaginian community, recently planted in the neighbourhood by Dido, a Tyrian princess, who had fled from her native city in consequence of the murder of her husband by her brother Pygmalion. To this princess she desires him to go with his com panion, and, to prevent all obstruction by the way, she envelopes them in a cloud impervans to mortal At the same time, and by the same supernatueyes. ral direction, his Trojans approach the town, where all are welcomed with the greatest hospitality by Queen Dido. In sober historic truth, Dido (or rather Elissa, which was her real name) lived three hundred years after the presumed era of the fabulous Æneas, and, what may be new to some of our readers, stood in the relation of aunt to the Jezebel of scripture; but an anachronism like this, though it could not be tolerated in modern fiction, forms but a trifling objection where supernatural agency is called upon to develope almost every event. The Carthaginian queen gives the Trojans a grand feast, during which she fondles Ascanius, the son of Eneas, in her lap. Venus, however, who foresaw this little occurrence, had taken care to substitute for Ascanius, her emissary Cupid, the god of love, who takes the opportunity to inspire the queen with an ardent passion for the Trojan hero. At the close of the feast, Dido requests her guest to give a relation of all his adventures up to the period

of his arrival in her dominions.

The second and third books of the Æneid are occupied by this relation, which comprehends as many absurdities as any other part of the poem. Eneas tells how the city of Troy was taken, after a ten years' siege, by the stratagem of a wooden horse, containing warriors, being introduced through the walls; a story full of superstitious absurdities, and in point of fact totally incredible. The hero was himself informed of the fate of the city by the ghost of Hector, which appears to him in his sleep, and after assuring him that he should become the founder of a new Troy in other lands, brings him the statues of the gods from the temple, to be carried away by him and reinstated in that settlement. He escapes through the burning and ravaged streets, with his father Anchises on his back, and his son Ascanius led in his hand; but Creusa, his wife, who walked by his side, was lost by the way, and perished. He then builds a fleet, and with a considerable party arrives in Thrace. Here erecting an altar, and wishing to overshade it with green boughs, he pulls up a tree, and to his horror sees blood gush from the wounded ground. While wondering at this prodigy, he is informed by a voice that the blood is that of his brother-in-law Polydore, who had been After atoning for his murdered and buried here. unintentional offence by the erection of a tomb over the spot, he sails to Delos, and asks the oracle of that island what place the gods had appointed for his habi tation. By a mistake of the oracle's answer, he settles in Crete; but his household gods give him the true sense of the response in a dream, and he immediately sets sail for Italy. Landing upon the Strophades in the Ionian sea, the Trojans attempt to make a dinner out of the native flocks, but, when preparing to fall to, are invaded by a flight of loathsome supernatural creatures called harpies, with the faces of women and the bodies of birds, which steal their meat. After a vain attempt to repel these unwelcome visitors by the sword, Eneas is informed by one of them, that, for his making war on the harpies, he and his companions should hereafter experience such famine as would cause them to eat their very dishes. next touches at Chaonia, where he finds another party of Trojans settled under the government of a Trojan prince, and from the latter, who is also a priest, receives some prophetic information respecting his future voyages. In sailing for the Italian shore, he sees on the coast of Sicily a troop of Cyclops, colossal giants with one eye each, who endeavour to destroy his fleet.

He

His father Anchises dies and is buried in Sicily. The narrative then concludes with an allusion to his being driven by a tempest upon the coast of Africa, where he now was.

Dido is next represented as suffering under a consurning passion for the Trojan stranger, which Juno becomes anxious to see indulged, as it promises to detain Æneas from his course, and to make her favoured Lybia, instead of Italy, the seat of that universal empire of which the Trojan was destined to be the founder. She therefore co-operates with her rival Venus to bring about a match between the pair, and for this purpose contrives a stratagem, which we cannot permit ourselves to describe. Eneas, lost to all recollection of his high destiny, now sits down idly in Carthage, and seems inclined to go no farther, when a neighbouring king, Iarbas, who had sought the hand of Dido in vain, takes it upon him through spite to acquaint Jupiter with what was going on, and

prompts the god to send down Mercury to warn the Trojan against the danger of his present disobedient course. At a hint from Mercury, Æneas abandons the duty of superintending the rise of Carthage, and makes secret preparations for recommencing his voyage. This, however, he does not manage so adroitly as to keep Dido in ignorance of his intention. She immediately begins to storm, calls him a base traitor, and threatens as a ghost to haunt him for ever. In spite of every threat and entreaty, he persists in obeying the will of the gods, and escapes during the night. Dido then mounts a funeral pile, and puts an end to her life. The whole conduct of the hero in this part of his history is opposed to morality and honour, and, being represented as the result of a pious obedience to the will of heaven, it could not fail to have a most pernicious effect upon the minds of the young, if the young ever read this or any other classic with real attention.

Eneas, now sailing from Africa, is driven by a storm upon the coast of Sicily, where he once more lands, and is well received by a prince named Acastes, of Trojan lineage. He there pays divine honours to the memory of his father Anchises, institutes funeral games, and ordains prizes for the conquerors. A large portion of the fifth book is taken up with minute descriptions of the games, in which, strange to say, only one supernatural event occurs, the taking fire of an arrow in the air. This event, however, is an augury of another which is about to take place. While the Trojans are celebrating the games, the women are holding a kind of wake at the tomb of Anchises. Juno sends her messenger Iris in disguise into the midst of the female band, and, by means of an artful speech, instigates them to set fire to the ships. The queen of heaven thought by this to prevent the foundation of the empire in Italy; but she is mistaken. At the prayer of Eneas, Jupiter sends a heavy shower of rain, which quenches the conflagration, after it had destroyed only four vessels. Eneas now resolves to leave a great number of females and old people behind, and to pursue his voyage with the diminished fleet. But ere he sails, the ghost of his father appears to him, and commands him to descend into the dominions of Pluto, in order that they might have an interview, and that Anchises might show to his son his future course and all the ensuing glories of his race. His mother at the same time implores Neptune to grant him a safe voyage to Italy, which the god of the sea readily promises, and immediately proceeds to still the waves by coursing over them in his chariot. Æneas, assured by the sight of Neptune at this employment, sets sail, and reaches the shore without any other accident than the loss of his helmsman Palinurus, who, by the machinations of the god Somnus, in other words by falling asleep at his post, tumbles into the sea.

Landing in the province of Cuma, the pious hero seeks the cave of an oracular female personage, named the Sybil, who foretells to him the adventures he shall meet with in Italy. This supernatural being also un

dertakes, at his request, to conduct him down to hell, which, according to Virgil, was accessible by a dark and dismal cave descending from the opposite shore of a neighbouring lake. The description of this extraordinary journey and of the infernal regions is certainly fine in the original; yet it is only a poetical view of a series of childish heathen superstitions, and so far from having any moral aim or effect, tends rather to confuse the moral sense. For instance, the spirits of those whose bodies have not been buried are represented as doing penance on that account for a hundred years, before being carried across the river Styx. In the happier department of these regions, the hero meets his father, who not only shows him the shades of his illustrious ancestors, long dead and gone, but those of his posterity also, among whom the poet places all such contemporaries of his own as he desired to flatter or court.

Eneas there is a bloody battle; Turnus killing Pal-
las, the son of Evander, while the Trojan slays Me-
zentius. In the eleventh book, Æneas erects a trophy
of the spoils of Mezentius, grants a truce for the
burial of the dead, and sends home the body of Pallas
with great solemnity. Latius calls a council to pro-
pose offers of peace to Eneas, which occasions great
animosity betwixt Turnus and Eneas in the mean-
time, there is a sharp engagement of the horse, wherein
a heroine called Camilla signalises herself, and is
killed. Turnus, worsted in this engagement, pro-
poses to settle the dispute by a single combat with
Eneas: articles are agreed on, but broken by the
subjects of the native prince, who wound Æneas. He
is miraculously cured by Venus, forces Turnus to a
duel, and kills him; with which incident the poem
concludes.

Now, we would just ask, is a nonsensical tale like
that related above, full of gross superstition and
barbarous slaughters, designed only to flatter an ig.
norant nation, detailing and approving of an unjust
aggression by one tribe upon another, entitled to
the honour in which it is still held? Is such a
work calculated either to improve the sentiment of
veneration for a true Deity, or to improve the sen-
timents of justice and kindness towards our fellow-
creatures? will such a horrible confusion of natural
and supernatural tend in the least to strengthen the
reasoning powers, clear the perception of cause and
effect, or enable us better to judge of real men and
real things? Assuredly not. It may be granted that
here and there a good maxim drops from the mouth
of a personage of the poem-as where Eneas tells his
shipwrecked sailors that in time they may look back
upon their hardships with pleasure, and where the
Sybil tells the Trojan prince not to yield to obstruct-
ing evils, but to go the more boldly against them.
bulk of the work is a glorification of the inferior pro-
But such things occur rarely and accidentally: the
pensities, and tends, if its study has any tendency
at all, to make us contemplate without a proper moral
repugnance almost every kind of crime. Such is one
of the most famous of those books which for centuries
mankind have pretended to admire, in defiance of a
wisdom which would dictate its being left quietly to
oblivion, or only preserved as an instance of a fine
poetical genius spent upon an unfortunate subject.

BIOGRAPHIC SKETCHES.

CUVIER.

GEORGE CUVIER, the most eminent naturalist in mo-
dern times, was born August 23, 1769. The place of his
nativity was the little town of Montbeliard, in Switzer-
land, formerly the capital of the district so called, and
which, up till 1796, formed part of the German do-
main of the Duke of Wurtemburg. His father was
a distinguished officer in a Swiss corps in the pay of
France, and who, after forty years' service, retired to

His

tition he composed and delivered a poetical oration on
the prosperity of the principality, which he is said to
have recited with astonishing effect; but from the
base treachery of his master in the Gymnase, he
lost the just reward of his able composition.
merits, however, had now become so conspicuous as
to attract the notice of Duke Charles, uncle of the
present king of Wurtemburg, who, upon an interview
with him, became so much interested in his welfare,
that he sent him, upon his own (Duke Charles's)
charges, to the Académie Caroline at Stuttgard, a
seminary founded by the duke himself, and in which
he took the deepest interest. This was in 1784, when
His various
Cuvier had entered his fifteenth year.
talents, or rather his unbounded capacity, had now
the means of expanding itself upon the wide range of
studies afforded to its exercise. The pupils were in-
structed in almost every branch of knowledge, but
more particularly those connected with civil polity;
and many of them became in after years the ministers
not only of the various courts of Germany, but even
of Russia and other states. Cuvier was inferior to
none in the ready acquisition of every subject of study;
but amidst all his occupations, that of natural history
was pursued with an ardour that increased in propor-
tion to the means of self-instruction which he pos-
sessed. He read Linnæus, Reinhart, and all the other
best authors; inspected all the museums within his
reach; collected specimens; and drew and coloured
insects, birds, and plants, in his hours of recreation.
Even then he began to perceive the great advantages
which the study of entomology (anatomy of insects)
would lend to his future investigations, while its pro-
secution led to the acquisition of habits of minute ob-
servation.

Cuvier had only been four years at Stuttgard (during which time, however, he had won many marks of distinction-amongst others the order of chevalerie, which was only granted to five or six of the pupils out of four hundred), when the disturbed condition of France and Germany, occasioning the departure of his patron and the discontinuance of his father's pension, obliged him to leave that seminary; and he took what appeared to his companions to be the desperate resolution of becoming tutor in a private family-that of Count d'Héricy, a Protestant nobleman-with whom he removed to Caen, in Normandy, in July 1788. Change of residence, society, and circumstances, however, could not for a moment damp the persevering assiduity of Cuvier, and the transition from an inland to a maritime situation only contributed to direct his active mind into new channels of study and investi gation. He here began to study the anatomy of fishes, compare fossil with recent species, and from their dissection was conducted to the developement of his great views on the whole of the animal kingdom, by which he subsequently read the physical history of creation through all its phases, as in a book. Whilst engaged in making records of his observations simply for his own guidance and use, he was unwittingly rectifying the mistakes and oversights of all preceding and contemporary naturalists.

Nearly six years passed over Cuvier's head thus usefully and tranquilly employed, whilst France was undergoing the dreadful ordeal of the revolution. But its impulse at last reached his retreat. A society or union, like those which were organised by the populace throughout every other part of the empire, and which armed the inhabitants against themselves, was about to be established at the neighbouring town of Fécamp, when Cuvier, who per

and the neighbouring landholders to anticipate its formation by constituting the society themselves. Of this body Cuvier was appointed secretary, and the members, instead of discussing sanguinary affairs at their meetings, devoted their attention solely to the consideration of agriculture. At one of these meetings a speech was delivered by a venerable-looking individual, who resided in the neighbourhood under the character of a surgeon. Cuvier, however, although he had never seen him before, quickly recognised in the speaker the author of certain valuable articles on agriculture in the Encyclopédie Méthodique, and approaching him after the sitting was finished,

his native town with a small pension and a military title of honour. He there espoused a young lady of good family, to whose admirable management and superintendence the future eminence, if not indeed the very existence, of George Cuvier, who was the second son, is mainly to be attributed. He was of an extremely delicate constitution, and, equally with the view of strengthening his body and enlightening his mind, she directed his attention to the beauties of outward nature. To the latest day of his life, Cuvier che-ceived the impending danger, prevailed on his employer rished, with the most lively fondness, every reminiscence of this excellent woman, and in his later years, when immersed in the toils of legislation and science, expressed the warmest gratitude to any one who brought him a bouquet of the flowers which his mother had more especially loved. Under her instructions On his return to upper air, Æneas once more sets sail, and coasting along alone, Cuvier was taught to read with facility when only for a little way, finally arrives in the mouth of the four years of age. She also instructed him in sketchTiber, where he was destined to found his new em- ing, while she fostered in every way the desire for pire. The poet, however, devotes the whole of the solid information which he so early manifested, by last six books, or one-half of the poem, to a narrative procuring a supply of historical and scientific works, of the difficulties he encountered before he could form calculated to expand his youthful mind. When he a proper settlement. Latinus, the aged king of Labecame of age to learn Latin, she not only attended tium, is favourable to his views, and promises him his only daughter Lavinia, the heiress of his crown. him to and from the school personally, but even unTurnus, a neighbouring prince, being in love with dertook the superintendence of his daily lessons, and the princess, favoured by her mother, and stirred up had the satisfaction of finding that he maintained a by the unrelenting Juno, breaks the treaty which was superiority over all his schoolfellows. When ten made, and engages other chiefs in his quarrel. Pre- years old, Cuvier was removed to a higher school, parations are made for war. Turnus sends for Dio-called the Gymnase, where his progress attracted parmedes, the enemy of the Trojans, and Æneas goes in person to beg succours from Evander and the Tuscans; in which object he succeeds. The god Vulcan, at the request of Venus, then makes an excellent suit of armour for Eneas, and draws on his shield the most memorable actions of his posterity-another opportunity of introducing allusions flattering to Roman pride. Turnus, taking advantage of the absence of the Trojan hero, sets fire to his ships, which are kindly transformed by Jupiter into sea-nymphs. The Trojans, pressed in their camp, send Nisus and Euryolus to acquaint Eneas with their condition; and the adventures and death of these youths, who are sworn friends, constitute almost the only part of the whole poem that is calculated to gratify the moral feelings. Jupiter, now calling a council of the gods, forbids them to engage in either party. At the return of

The old man

he addressed him as the Abbé Tessier. was at first much alarmed, for he had fled from Paris and concealed himself under his present disguise, to avoid the common doom of all who then bore the hated name of Abbé; but Cuvier soon quieted his fears, and they became thenceforward the most intimate friends. Tessier perceived at once the extraordinary talents and acquirements of his new acquaintticular attention. He was singularly diligent and ance. "At the sight of this young man," he wrote to thoughtful, with a memory of uncommon retention. his friend Jussieu, "I felt the same delight as the But the author who attracted all his regard in his lei- philosopher, who, when cast upon an unknown shore, there saw traces of geometrical figures. M. Cuvier sure moments, was Buffon, the whole of whose plates, is a violet which was concealed among common herbs. even at this early age, he faithfully copied and coHe has great acquirements; he draws plates for your loured, manifesting at the same time the most extra- work, and I have urged on him to give botanical lecordinary aptitude for mastering the driest details of tures this summer. He has consented to do so, and nomenclature. His acquisition of the dead languages, I congratulate the students on the fact, for he demonmathematics, and geography, was not less remarkable, strates with great method and clearness. I doubt if and he pursued all these studies with an ardour that there is to be found a better comparative anatomist; he is indeed a pearl worth the picking up. I contriwould seem incompatible with the indulgence of childbuted to draw M. Delambre from his retreat; do you ish sports. now help me to draw M. Cuvier from his, for he is Cuvier was destined for the church, and from the made for science and the world." The immediate repoverty of his parents, became a candidate for admis.sult of these warm recommendations was the transsion to the fee school of Tabingen. In this compe- mission of some of Cuvier's papers to Paris, where

their great value was properly appreciated; and in a few months afterwards he was appointed colleague of M. Mertreid in the newly created chair of comparative anatomy at Paris, whither he removed, being then only twenty-six years of age.

Cuvier's first thoughts, on finding himself placed in a respectable and permanent situation, were for his distressed relatives. His mother was then dead, but he invited his father and brother to come and live with him; and after seeing them comfortably settled, he applied himself to his favourite studies with a zeal that nothing could repress. He was every where heard with delight and conviction, for he had already, before coming to Paris, adopted those extensive views, and arrived at those profound and sagacious conclusions, which guided his investigations into physical nature, and shook to their base all the then existing зystems of Linnæus and other naturalists. Besides his public lectures and private pursuits, he published during the first year of his residence at Paris more than half a dozen treatises on various subjects of natural history, in which the most expanded views were combined with evidence of the minutest accuracy and arrangement. He especially impressed on his pupils the importance of entomological study. A young medical student came to him upon a certain occasion, full of a discovery he supposed himself to have made in dissecting a human body. Cuvier immediately asked him if he was an entomologist, to which the other replied in the negative. "Go, then, and anatomise an insect," said Cuvier, "and then reconsider the discovery you have made." The young man did so, and returned to Cuvier to confess his error. "Now," said Cuvier, "you see the value of my touchstone." His discovery of the red blood of the leech, and the other animals which he grouped in the class Annelides, was made in 1796; and in 1797 he read his celebrated memoir on the nutrition of insects, in which he showed the manner in which respiration was carried on by trachea, and how the nutritious fluid diffused itself over the whole internal surface of the body, so as to be every where absorbed.

France; and he thus discharged the double duty of
teaching natural philosophy at that latter institution,
and lecturing on comparative anatomy at the Jardin
des Plantes. It is painful to state that his pecuniary
remuneration for this great labour was neither com-
mensurate in amount nor regular in its payment.

In 1800, Cuvier commenced his celebrated "Lec-
tures on Comparative Anatomy," which were com-
pleted in five years. They were delivered from notes,
and with a persuasive eloquence perfectly unrivalled.
His skill in delineating forms was so great, and the
rapidity and exactness with which he produced them
so extraordinary, that it seemed to his pupils as if he
rather created living objects than inanimate repre-
sentations. He did not consider the whole organic
structure of each animal separately and at once, but
examined an individual organ through the whole
series of animals in succession. It was by this me-
thod that he was ultimately led to the revealment of
an order of facts illustrative of the theory of the
earth. It was by the combination of mineralogical
observation and the sciences relating to organic struc-
tures, that the successive eras of the earth were made
apparent. As it would, however, only encumber the
present sketch to notice the extent of his geological
discoveries, we shall leave these to form the subject of
a separate article.

On

Wurtemburg, about the same time made him com.
mander of the order of the crown. During the same
year, he lost the favour of the court by steadily re-
fusing the appointment of censor of the press; but
he incurred a much heavier dispensation in the loss
of his only remaining child Clementine, a beautiful
young woman, on the eve of marriage. In 1830, he
again visited England along with his stepdaughter
Mademoiselle Duvancel, and they happened to be in
London during the revolution of the barricades.
his return to Paris, Cuvier was most graciously re
ceived by Louis Phillippe, by whom he was, in 1832,
created a peer of France. But he lived not long to
enjoy his dignity. On the 9th May he was attacked
by partial paralysis in his arms, and aware in what
it was to terminate, made his will and arranged some
important matters with the most perfect calmness.
On the 11th, his legs were paralysed, but so powerful
was the love of science within him, that he sought to
illustrate a paper which he had previously read in the
Institute by reference to his own case, saying, "It is
the nerves of the will that are affected," alluding to
the distinction between the nerves of the will and
those of sensibility, and the discoveries of Sir Charles
Bell and Scarpa. To M. Pasquier, who saw him ou
the 12th, he remarked, "I had great things still to
do. All was ready in my head. After thirty years
of labour and research, these remained but to write,
and now the hands fail and carry with them the
head." On the 13th, after vainly trying to swallow
a mouthful of lemonade, he gave the draught to his
stepdaughter to drink, saying it was delightful to see
those he loved still able to swallow. After which af-
fectionate remark, he calmly expired.
both

Cuvier was an uncommonly fine-looking man,
in person and features, his countenance being indi-
cative of that talent and intelligence by which he was
distinguished. His manner was noble and dignified;
he was kind and conciliatory to all; and his charity
and benevolence were unbounded. His application
was prodigious. He was never without occupation,
and his only relaxation was in the change of his ob-
jects of business or study. Amid his multifarious
occupations out of his house, if he had only a quarter
of an hour to spare before dinner on his return, he
availed himself of it to resume some composition in-
terrupted since the night before on some scientific
subject. During his drives through the city, he read
and even wrote in his carriage, having a desk fitted
up in it for that purpose. He dined betwixt six and
seven, after which, if he did not go out, he immedi-

tions of study, from one quarter of an hour to another, was one of the most extraordinary qualities of his mind; and we will conclude our notice of this great man by observing, that the habit he had acquired of never being idle, of being undisturbed by interrup tions, and of returning to unfinished labours as if no such interruptions had occurred, was shown in his instance to be so valuable, that if it is to be acquired by those who do not naturally possess it, it merits the strongest efforts of the mind for its attainment.

To his researches into fossil remains Cuvier ever attached the utmost importance. His writings on these and other subjects are indeed so numerous, that it is impossible for us even to attempt a list of them. His labours increased with his years, in magnitude and diversity, but only to show the extent of his capacity. After Bonaparte's return from Egypt, and being declared First Consul, Cuvier was elected secretary to the class of physical and mathematical sciences, of which Bonaparte was president. The latter soon perceived the value and variety of Cuvier's talents, and selected him as one of the six general inspectors appointed in 1802 for the purpose of establishing a lyceum school in each of thirty cities of France. While absent on this duty, Napoleon made the secreThe period of Cuvier's removal to Paris was fortu.taryship of the class of physical and mathematical nately that when the arts and sciences and social or- sciences perpetual, with a salary of 6000 francs. der were beginning to be re-established after the con- In 1803, Cuvier married Madame Duvancel, the vulsions of the revolution. The National Institute, widow of a fermier-general, who was guillotined in one of the noblest societies of Europe, was founded in 1794, and who brought four young children home with 1796; Cuvier was one of its original members, and her. Madame Cuvier appears to have been an admifor more than thirty years maintained the most dis- rable woman, and to have proved an invaluable tinguished rank amongst them. His appointment in blessing to her husband. She bore him four children, the Jardin des Plantes had now fixed him in the midst all of whom, as well as his stepchildren, were suc of those objects to which his life would have been de-cessively taken from him, excepting one of the latter.ately retired to his study, where he continued till ten voted by inclination; and from the day of his appoint. In 1808, Cuvier was appointed one of the councillors, or eleven. His extreme facility for study, and of diment to the day of his death, his labours were devoted for life, of the New Imperial University; and Bona-recting all the powers of his mind to diverse occupato forming and completing the collections of which it parte (now emperor) about the same time employed can now boast, and which, in every respect, may al- him to write a history of the progress of the humost be pronounced unrivalled. The intensity of his man mind from the year 1789. Of this work, to devotion to this occupation was strongly manifested which Cuvier applied himself with his usual ardour, upon a remarkable occasion in the year 1798. Bona- Baron Pasquier says, "We were present when it parte was then preparing for his expedition to Egypt, was read to the emperor in the council of state, and and deputed M. Berthollet to select some scientific men such scenes are never effaced from the memory. Nato accompany the armament. Berthollet particularly poleon had asked merely a report, and under that recommended Cuvier, who accordingly received a no- unassuming title, the skilful reporter had raised a tification of his appointment; but, undazzled by the monument, which stands like a Pharos between two flattering nature of the proposal, and the prospects it ages, showing at once the road that had been traheld out of advancing his private interests, by bring- versed, and that which still ought to be pursued." ing him into frequent and personal communication His situation as university councillor brought him with Napoleon, he had the firmness to decline the frequently into the emperor's presence to discuss afhonour, saying that he was conscious he could much fairs of administration. During the years 1809 and more advance the science of natural history by the 1810, he was appointed to organise the academies of steady prosecution of it at the Jardin des Plantes, than the Italian States. In 1811, he was employed to form by any casual study of it elsewhere. And well did he academies in Holland and the Hanseatic towns. prove the sincerity of his motives. Soon afterwards Upon these duties he entered with all the enthusiasm he published his Tableau Elémentaire, consisting of of his benevolent mind, and no employment could 710 octavo pages, which was only a precursor to his have been more delightful. Napoleon was so much great work, Règne Animal, or the Animal Kingdom, in pleased with the manner in which he discharged his which he adopted Daubenton's two grand divisions of task, that he conferred on him the title of Chevalier, vertebrate and invertebrate animals: dividing each and also named him in 1813 maître des requetes in the into four great classes, and subdividing them into or- council of state. During these various tours, Cuders, genera, and species. Cuvier also produced at the vier prosecuted his study of natural history unremitsame time his first "Memoir on Fossil Bones," be- tingly. ing an essay on the fossil bones of the larger quadrupeds, particularly those of the elephant, the mastodon, the hippopotamus, the rhinoceros, &c. A view of the specimens he collected, first opened to the gaze of foreigners after the peace of 1814, could alone enable any one to form a proper estimate of the labours of Cuvier's. These collections, when inspected, broke up the slumber of many old institutions; caused renewed investigation into neglected specimens in other countries, and spread an active love for the pursuit of natural history through all ranks of the people. And be it observed, that, when Cuvier first began this anatomical collection, his materials consisted but of a few skeletons tied together like so many fagots, and put away in the lumber-room of the college.

Circumstances by degrees contributed to the success of Cuvier's labours. Wherever French armies marched, it was their pride to collect whatever might enrich the increasing collections at Paris; and under the directions of Cuvier, the numerous contributions thus received were arranged according to the system which his eloquent lectures explained. By labours which knew little intermission, and with the help of these daily increasing stores, he was enabled to lay the foundations of comparative anatomy, to make the discovery of ancient zoology, and to introduce a reform throughout the whole series of the animal kingdom. The death of M. Daubenton, in 1799, opened the way for the succession of Cuvier as Professor at the College de

The extraordinary talents of Cuvier, blended as they were with so much dignity of character and so much experience, were indispensable to France under all the successive changes of government which happened during his lifetime. The consulate, the imperial government, the restoration, the monarchy of July, did but anew direct public attention to the civil services of a man whose attainments and whose sagacity were for all time. He was the favoured, admired, esteemed, of all parties, and yet independent. Undistracted by all the changes that befell his country, he was ever occupied with her best interests, and endeavouring to diffuse that mental and moral preparation, without which he well knew the political rights she so urgently sought would prove the reverse of blessings. After the restoration, Louis XVIII. bestowed on him the dignity of councillor of state, and he was thus called on to take a considerable share in the internal administration of his country, as president of the committee of the interior, an office which involved him in endless details of business. In 1818, he visited England for six weeks, and during his absence from Paris, had the distinguished honour of being created one of the forty of the Académie Française. In 1819, he was named grand-master of the university, and in the same year was created a baron. In 1826, Charles X. bestowed on him the decoration of grand officer of the legion of honour; and his old sovereign, the King of

A GERMAN SETTLEMENT. NEAR Cape Girardeau, in the state of Missouri, and at no great distance from the western banks of the Mississippi, Mr Flint, in the course of his travels as a preacher, lighted upon what he terms a "curiosity" in such a district, namely, an isolated but pure German settlement. We beg to transcribe his account for the entertainment of our readers :-" These people have here preserved their nationality and their language more unmixed than even in Pennsylvania. At a meeting in the woods, where it was supposed four hundred German people were present, there were not half a dozen of people of English descent. The women are not able to express themselves well in English. The men, though they understand the colloquial and familiar language, yet express themselves with the peculiar German accent, pronunciation, and phrase, so as to be very amusing, if not sometimes ludicrous. They are principally Lutherans, and came some of them directly from Germany, but the greater portion from North Carolina and Pennsylvania. They have fixed themselves on a clear and beautiful stream called the White-water, which runs twenty-five miles, and loses itself in the great swamp. Located here in the forest-a narrow settlement of Germans unmixed with other people, having little communication except with their own people, and little intercourse with the world, having besides all the coarse trades and manufactures among themselves, they have preserved their peculiarities in an uncommon degree.

They are anxious for religious instruction, and love the German honesty and industry. But almost every farmer has his distillery, and the pernicious poison, whisky, dribbles from the corn; and in their curious dialect, they told me, that while they wanted religion, and their children baptised, and a minister as exemplary as possible, he must allow the honest Dutch, as they call themselves, to partake of the native beve. rage. And they undertook to prove that the swearing and drunkenness of a Dutchman was not so bad as that of an American.

The vast size of their horses, their own gigantic size, the peculiar dress of the women, the child-like and unsophisticated simplicity of their conversation,

amused me exceedingly. Nothing could afford a more
striking contrast to the uniformity of manners and
opinions among their American neighbours. I at-
tended a funeral, where there were a great number of
them present.
After I had performed such services
as I was used to perform on such occasions, a most
venerable-looking old man, of the name of Nyeswun-
ger, with a silver beard that flowed down his chin,
caine forward and asked me if I were willing that he
should perform some of their peculiar rites. I of
course wished to hear them. He opened a very an-
cient version of Luther's hymns, and they all began to
sing in German, so loud that the woods echoed the
strain; and yet there was something affecting in the
singing of these ancient people, carrying one of their
brethren to his long home, in the use of the language
and rites which they had brought with them over the
sea from fader land,' a word which often occurred
in their hymn. It was a long, loud, and mournful air,
which they sung as they bore the body along. The
wordsmein Gott,' mein broder,' and 'fader land,'
died away in distant echoes in the woods.
brances and associations rushed upon me, and I shall
long remember that funeral hymn.

taken place in the police of London, and the increased humanity and knowledge of the inhabitants, the proportion of deaths under two years is now, to the christenings, as between a fifth and a fourth; a great step, certainly, towards that state of things in which human life shall be permitted to commence under proper circumstances, but still far short of what further

consumption, 2640 by small pox, 3225 by fevers, and 1242 by teething; in all of which departments there are now greatly reduced proportions. The proportion of deaths in 1731 to the total population seems to have been one in twenty-three, whereas it is now stated by Mr Britton at one in thirty-one.

One general trait appears to me strongly to charac terise this region in a religious point of view. They improvements may be expected to effect. In the geare anxious to collect a great many people and preach-neral list of deaths, 7986 are by convulsion, 3425 by ers, and achieve, if the expression may be allowed, a great deal of religion at once, that they may lie by, and be exempt from its rules and duties until the regu lar recurrence of the period for replenishing the exhausted stock. Hence we witness the melancholy aspect of much appearance and seeming, frequent meetings, spasms, cries, fallings, faintings, and, what I imagine will be a new aspect of religious feeling to most of my readers, the religious laugh. Nothing is more common at these scenes than to see the more forward people on these occasions indulging in what seemed to me an idiot and spasmodic laugh; and when I asked what it meant, I was told it was the holy laugh! Preposterous as the term may seem to my readers, the phrase holy laugh' is so familiar to me, as no longer to excite surprise. But in these same regions, and among these same people, morals, genuine tenderness of heart, and capacity to be guided either by reason, persuasion, or the uniform dictates of the gospel, was an affecting desideratum."

| pers. Remem

After

They had brought a minister among them, of the name of Weiberg, or, as they pronounced it, Winebork; an educated man, but a notorious drunkard. The earnest manner in which he performed divine service in their own ritual and in their own language, carried away all their affections; for, like other people naturally phlegmatic, when the tide once gets started, it sweeps all restraints from its course. service he would get drunk, and, as often happens among them, was quarrelsome. They claimed indulgence to get drunk themselves, but were not quite so clear in allowing their minister the same privilege. The consequence was, that when the time came round for them to pay their subscription, they were disposed to refuse, alleging, as justification, their unworthiness and drunkenness. He had for three successive years in this way commenced and recovered suits against them. And to reinstate himself in their good will, it was only necessary for him to take them when a sufficient quantity of whisky had opened their phleg matic natures to sensibility, and then give them a vehement discourse, as they phrased it, in the pure old Dutch, and give them a German hymn of his own manufacture for he was a poet too-and the subscription paper was once more brought forward. They who had lost their suit, and had been most inveterate in their dislike, were thawed out, and crowded about the paper either to sign their name, or make their mark.

The settlement is German, also, in all its habitsin their taste for permanent buildings, and their disposition to build with stone, in their love of silver dollars and their contempt of bank-bills, in their dis. position to manufacture every necessary among them. selves. I counted forty-five female dresses hung round my sleeping-room, all of cotton, raised and manufac tured, and coloured in the family. The ladies of cities are not more inwardly gratified with the possession of the newest and most costly furniture, than these good, laborious, submissive, and silent housewives are in hanging round their best apartment fifty male and female dresses, all manufactured by their own hand. I had the good fortune to be very acceptable to this people, although I could not smoke, drink whisky, nor talk German. They made various efforts to fix my family among them; and as the highest expression of good will, they told me that they would do more than they had done for Weiberg.

DIPPINGS INTO OLD MAGAZINES.

THE GENTLEMAN'S FOR 1731.

In the Monthly Intelligencer for January, there are several notices of state prosecutions for libellous paThe northern roads are stated to be so deeply covered with snow, that the Scottish members of Parliament and representative peers, on their way to London, were obliged to alight, and walk many miles on foot. A human heart is found, preserved in spirits,

in a leaden pot, under a garden connected with Waverley Abbey in Surrey-supposed to be that of William Gifford, Bishop of Winchester, founder of the abbey. It is "advised" from Burlington in Pennsylvania, that some old men and women, suspected of bewitching cattle, had been dragged by a mob to the governor's house, and tried by the novel plan of weighBible; and on their being found "vastly to outweigh the Bible," they were thrown bound into a river, on the supposition that if they swam they would be guilty. «This they offered to undergo, in case their accusers should be served in like manner; which being done, they all swam very buoyant, and cleared the accused." It is also mentioned that in the previous September,

a mob at Frome in Somersetshire had destroyed an old woman, supposed to be a witch, by subjecting her to the water-ordeal.

In the March number is given a Scotch proclamation for a fair, as follows:-" Oyez, and that's ae time; Oyez, and that's twa times; Oyez, and that's the third and last time. All manner of person and persons whasoever, let them draw near, and I shall let them ken, that there is a fair to be held at the toun o' Langholm, for the space of aught days; wherein if ony hustrin, custrin, land-louper, dub-scouper, or dum, rabblement, brabblement, or swabblement, he gang-the-gate swinger, shall breed ony hurdum-dur. shall have his lugs nailed to the muckle trone, with a and pray to heaven, nine times God bless the king, nail of twal a-penny, until he down on his hobshanks, and thrice the laird o' Relton, paying a groat to me, Jemmy Fergusson, bailie of the aforesaid manor. you've heard my proclamation; I'll hame to my

Or that important department of our national litera-ing their persons in a pair of scales against a large
ture now familiarly termed the Magazines, the GEN-
TLEMAN's was the great original, as it still continues
to be, if not the most brilliant, at least one of the most
useful and respectable. For some years before 1731,
an industrious printer and journalist named Edward
Cave had contemplated the commencement of a monthly
pamphlet, in which the best articles of the newspapers
should be condensed, and a register of events, markets,
&c. regularly given. After in vain endeavouring to
procure the co-operation of the booksellers, he found
himself, in the year just named, able to commence
such a work on his own account, the duties of editor
The first number ap-
being performed by himself.
peared in the form of a very plain octavo pamphlet of
forty-two pages, at the price of sixpence, under the ti-
tle of The Gentleman's Magazine, or Trader's Monthly
Intelligencer, by Sylvanus Urban, Aldermanbury,
Gent. ; as if to imply that the tastes and interests of
both the aristocratic and mercantile classes, of both city
and country, would be attended to. The bulk of the
work consisted of abridgements of the best articles in
the political and literary journals of shorter periods,
as the Craftsman, the London Journal, the Universal
Spectator, Applebee's Journal, &c.; and then came a
department called the Monthly Intelligencer, contain-
ing foreign and domestic occurrences, casualties, a re-
gister of births, marriages, and deaths, observations
on gardening, and a list of publications. The work
met with great and immediate success, insomuch that
a second edition of the first number was issued with
the third, and reprints of the first five with the eighth,
upon which appeared for the first time that wooden
engraving of St John's Gate, Clerkenwell, which has
ever since so curiously distinguished the magazine;
though it was not till the year 1735 that Mr Cave
gave his name on the title-page as publisher.
natural consequence of success, the design was imme-
diately imitated by multitudes of those who formerly
refused to enter into the views of the projector; but
he was at all times able, by the advantage he enjoyed
as originator of the plan, and by unceasing exertions
for the improvement of his work, to keep greatly
ahead of all competitors, and eventually realised a
fortune. He died, January 10, 1754, at the age of
sixty-two.

As a

These strong features of nationality are very striking characteristics in this country universally. The Germans, the French, the Anglo-Americans, Scotch, and Irish, all retain and preserve their national manners and prejudices. Nothing fosters attachment to every thing national, like residing in a foreign region, and among foreign manners. All our peculiar ways of thinking and acting become endeared to us by the unpleasant contrast of foreign manners, and become identified with our best possessions by national pride. But among the races in this country, the Germans succeed decidedly the best; better, even, than the Anglo-Americans. They have no vagrant imagina. tions, and they cast a single look over the forest or prairie which they have purchased, and their minds seize intuitively the best arrangement and division, and their farming establishment generally succeeds. They build a good house and barn. They plant a large orchard. Their fences, their gates, all the appendages to their establishment, are strong and permanent. In opening the homely and old-fashioned volume They raise large horses and cattle. They spend little, before us, one of the first facts that occurs, of a naand when they sell will receive nothing in pay but ture calculated to excite remark, is one of a melanspecie. Every stroke counts towards improvement. choly nature in the general bill of christenings and Their wives have no taste for parties and tea. Silent unwearied labour, and the rearing of their children, burials for the year. In 1731, there were twenty-five are their only pursuits; and in a few years they are thousand burials in London, whereof nearly ten thou comparatively rich. Next to them in prosperity are sand or two-fifths were of children under two years the Anglo-Americans. Then the Scotch. The direct of age; while in the same space of time there were emigrants from England are only superior to the French, who in the upper country have succeeded only about eighteen thousand christened. What an less than any other people, as planters. The German amount of avoidable misery was here encountered and settlement at Cape Girardeau extends very near the endured, through ignorance of, or contempt for, the French settlement of St Genevieve; and here you physical and organic laws! This prodigious mortality have the strong points of national difference brought of infants was in a great measure the result of inade in direct contrast, The one race is generally independent in their condition; the other produces a few rich quate or erroneous treatment, and of the unnatural farmers, but is generally a poor race of hunters, crowd-mode of living which obtained in large and ill-regued in villages with mud hovels, fond of conversation lated cities. Owing to the improvements which have

dinner."

So

Among the casualties for March, is one which might have done honour to the imagination of the barber in the Arabian Nights' Entertainments: "A poor man in Norfolk, by a person who cut him down, and, runwas found hanging in a gentleman's stables at Bungay ning for assistance, left a penknife behind him; the poor man, recovering, cut his throat with it, and, a a river being nigh, jumped into it, but, company coming, he was dragged out alive, and was likely to

remain so."

The state-lottery system had commenced before 1731, and in the scheme of that year the highest prize was L. 10,000. "August 31, the tickets were delivered out to the subscribers at the Bank of England; when the crowd being so great as to obstruct the but to-morrow we shall deliver prizes;' upon which clerks, they told them, 'We deliver blanks to-day, many who were by no means for blanks retired, and they had room to proceed in their business by this stratagem."

At the beginning of October, a report of her majesty's death was raised in London, in consequence of the death of a woman at court whom the grooms and servants called Queen; "on which account several dealers were considerable losers by buying up blacks for mourning." About the same time, "Miss Wors attacked by a highwayman. He presented his pistol, ley, driving in her chair on Banstead Downs, was and she lashed at him and his horse, with her whip, till she obliged him to sheer off. Her footman was so surprised that he durst not assist." This instance of feminine intrepidity is matched by another which took place in Bohemia, whence "they write that two young ladies had fought a duel for an accomplished young knight, in which one being dangerously wounded in the breast, resigned him to the sole possession of her victorious rival." Mr Urban hears from Scotland that "William Crawford, janitor of the High School at Edinburgh, somewhat in years, having been thrice proclaimed in the kirk, went thither with his friends, and stood some hours expecting his bride. At last he received a ticket from her in these terms