worked factory people. Neither drunkards nor gluttons, nor the idle, dissolute, and lazy, can hope legitimately for length of days. Cornaro, who was wild in his youth, lived to a great age by reforming his excess, and eating so little that at last an egg per day sufficed him. The rich man, says Sir W. Temple, who wishes to live happily, must live like a poor one. Reflecting that in our society, since the invention of cooking, each of us eats annually fourteen hundred and sixty meals—not counting luncheons—in the course of the year, it behoves us to eat sparingly. Many of us, too many, dig our graves with our teeth, according to the old saying. But, did we prize life as we ought, did we use our time as we should, there is little doubt but that, as we have shown, we should be able not only to render human life more worthy of its allwise Creator, but also to extend the sum of our existence very materially. And who will deny but that life in any state or class is a blessing which we may all legitimately desire to prolong?

:

SOMETHING SUPERIOR.

|T is not without reason, as it is fit that it should not be, that our pastors and masters are continually preaching to us the necessity of being humble and lowly. It is, perhaps, not a very pleasant thing to insist on, but there is hardly one of us who does not wish that he were somewhat higher than he is. Women wish it as a matter of course; their ambition being, as a rule, greater than man's. A man may, as an exception, be content to be nothing; a woman never is and never can be she worships and loves power, rises more easily into it than man, and when in power bears herself better than man. Writers of comedy and of novels have often drawn pictures of very vulgar, coarse women, and no doubt there are many such. But woman is neither so coarse, nor so vulgar, nor so awkward as man; that is to say, a great big girl is not so awkward as a hobbledehoy; nor is a grown-up woman so coarse as a man in the same circumstances; and even in the midst of their coarseness some of these women will give a genuine touch of love and feeling which will make a man forgive them for their want of politeness. If a woman has had,

in society or elsewhere, any chance of observing what good manners really are, she at once catches at them, because she at once perceives how gracious really good manners are, and also because she wishes to rise above her level.

But, rise as high as we can-we men or women-we shall always find at a point above us certain "superior” people. You constantly hear and see such people. They are perhaps not so rich, so good-looking, nor so clever as yourself, but they are "superior people." They are born such, and such they continue. It is not because their birth is high, or their connections are high, although they always make believe that they have a little of both of these advantages; nor that their power is actually greater-but there they are. If you are an author, you will find such men hard-hearted, cruel, and often very stupid critics, who multiply faults, and who are quite blind to beauties-but who habitually look down on the writer. They have the entry everywhere: you have not. They have never written a clever book: you have: they meet you at a party and patronize you, that is all. They are at all Literary Fund dinners; they take the chair at charities; their names are mentioned in the papers; and you are— nowhere! It is the same in all the ranks of life.

Now this is sadly annoying. It is all the more so because it is so true. It is only the old story over again of the Preacher's lament, that the race was not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but that time and chance have happened and will happen to all men.

In Mr. Trollope's story of the Small House at Allington,

a very clever, sad story, a tale of many worldly Pharisees, and yet very true, there is a certain Lady Dumbello, whose character is depicted by her name. She is a dumb belle, and a very dumb one too, but by force of character as a superior woman she takes the first place everywhere. All the ladies, even her betters, bow to her, and she reigns the first person in every assembly. She is not particularly wicked, unless it be in that she is not at all good; but she has positively not the least virtue-actively speaking-nor amiability. She is all self, and yet she sails placidly up to the top of society, just as cream will rise to the top of a cup of tea.

One cannot help feeling bitterly annoyed at these superior people; but then our annoyance is of little use. Even those who raise them to their height know nothing in their favour, nothing except one thing--they are silent and safe; if they do nothing clever, they say nothing foolish.

:

Silence and imperturbability are the two requisites for a man to get on in the world. He should not feel too much; he should not be too clever he should be able to put up with a good deal of snubbing and rudeness, and conceal his feelings. He should not show his cards, for reticence is the secret of success, but be at times capable of being close, sudden, and determined. If he be in official business, or in any of the pursuits into which our society is cut up, he may rise superior to many a better man by merely holding his tongue, and looking as if he understood things. This is not a very high estimate of matters in the world; but yet practice tells us every day that it is not a very high world, although it is the

highest that we know at present, and although, in its general aims, estimate, and practice, it is considerably higher than the world of the "noble savage," or any such primitive and normal personage.

The kind of "superior people" whom Bulwer, Trollope, and other writers describe, who are really merely blown-up and inflated living bladders, easily seen through and despised by all true men, are born to their greatness; that is, they arrive at their sham position by nature, not art. They must be naturally dull and naturally proud, and they therefore consider themselves very much better than other people. Bulwer relates that, meeting once with one of those superior persons, who rose from rank to rank in diplomacy without once serving his country, who was always considered a wise man without ever opening his mouth, and who was the very embodiment of political success, he tried to draw him into conversation; but the attempt failed; he, however, perceived just this much-that the great diplomatist was a great fool. When, therefore, the minister, some few days afterwards, spoke of this "superior man," the baronet said, honestly, "Well, I don't think much of him. I spent the other day with him, and I found him insufferably dull." "Indeed!" said his chief, with horror; "why, then, I see how it is: Lord Blank has been absolutely speaking to you!"

This

is but another version of Coleridge's story of the apple dumplings in both stories if the heroes had not opened their mouths, they would have still been considered superior persons.