Henly, of Basil, who now lives in Blackfriars, demanded of me half a yard of satin to make me a suit, more than I was accustomed to give, of which I required a reason, saying I was not fatter now than when I came to France. He answered it was true, but you are taller, whereunto when I would give no credit, he brought his old measures and made appear that they did not reach to their just places. I told him I knew not how this happened, but however he should have half a yard more, and that when I came into England, I would clear the doubt; for a little before my departure thence, I remember William Earl of Pembroke and myself did measure heights together, at the request of the Countess of Bedford, and he was then higher than I by about the breadth of my little finger. At my return; therefore, into Englatid, I measured again with the same Earl, and, to both our great wonders, found myself taller than he by the breadth of a little finger, which growth of mine I could attribute to no other cause but to my quartan ague, formerly mentioned, which, when it quitted me, left me in a more perfect health than I formerly enjoyed, and indeed disposed me to some follies which I afterwards repented and do still repent of.

'I shall tell some other things alike strange of myself. I weighed myself in balances often with men lower than myself by the head, and in their bodies slenderer, and yet was found lighter than they, as Sir John Davies, Knight, and Richard Griffiths, now living, can witness, with both whom I have been weighed. I had also, and have still, ä pulse in the crown of my head. It is well known to those that wait in my chamber that the shirts, waistcoats, and other garments I wear next my body, are sweet beyond what either easily can be believed or hath been observed in any one else, which sweetness also was found to be in my breath above others before I used to take tobacco, which towards my latter time I was forced to take against certain rheums and catarrhs that trouble me, which yet did not taint my breath for any long time. I scarce ever felt cold in my life, though yet so subject to catarrhs that I think no man ever was more obnoxious to it, all which I do in a familiar way mention to my posterity, though otherwise they might be thought scarce worth the writing.'-The Life of Lord Herbert, of Cherbury; Written by himself. Edit. of 1809, pp. 232-235.

It was also said of M. de Fitzjames by 'la naïve Deshoulieres,' that he might be rolled in a gutter all his life without contracting a spot of dirt. Still we are not surprised to find Mr. Walker endeavouring, in a subsequent Number, to corroborate his statement by a high medical authority :

My most staggering assertion I take to be this [The Original here repeats it] Dr. Gregory says of a person in high health, the exhalation from the skin is free and constant, but without amounting to perspiration-exhalatio per cutem libera et constans, citra vero sudorem-which answers with remarkable precision to "my active exhalation," and the repulsion of impurity is a necessary consequence. In fact, it is perspiration so active as to fly from the skin instead of

remaining

remaining upon it, or suffering anything else to remain ; just as we see an animal in high health'-[e. g. M. de Fitzjames]-roll in the mire and directly after appear as clean as if it had been washed. I enter into these particulars, not to justify myself, but to gain the confidence of my readers, not only on this particular subject, but generally-more especially as I shall have frequent occasion to advance things out of the common way though in the way of truth. Well-grounded faith has great virtue in other things besides religion. The want of it is an insuperable bar to improvement in things temporal as well as in things spiritual, and is the reverse of St. Paul's " rejoiceth in the truth; believeth all things;, hopeth all things;" for it believes nothing and hopes nothing. It is the rule of an unfortunate sect of sceptics in excellence, who at the mention of anything sound, look wonderfully wise, and shake their heads, and smile inwardly-infallible symptoms of a hopeless condition of half knowledge and self

conceit.'

We entreat Mr. Walker to believe that we are not of this unfortunate sect; we place the most implicit faith in his dirt-repelling capabilities; but opinions may differ as to the cleanness of a face, and he therefore will do well to keep his feet in the same relative state of purity, to be prepared, at all events, with Lady Mary Wortley Montague's retort, who, on a French lady's expressing some astonishment at the not quite spotless condition of her hands, exclaimed, Mes mains, Madame !-ah! si vous voyiez mes pieds!' Miss Berry, in her clever and agreeable book on the Social Life of England and France, quotes this reply it illustration of the coarseness of the times; but the inference is hardly just, for, assuming Lady Mary to have been acting on Mr. Walker's theory, to say that her feet were dirty was simply tantaitiount to saying that she was ill. At the same time, in case of confirmed ill health, it might be advisable to try the effect of an occasional ablution inistead of trusting to active exhalation' exclusively. Mr. Wadd, in his Treatise on Leanness and Corpulency, records the case of an elderly female who had shunned all contact with water, both hot or cold, for more than twenty years, under a belief that it was bad for the rheumatism, to which she was a martyr; when, long after she had given up all hopes of cure, she had the good fortune to get half drowned in a pond, and the immersion, combined with the consequent stripping and rubbing; effected her perfect restoration to health. It may also be just as well to caution Mr. Walker's admirers against following his example as to clothing too rigidly, particularly in the article of cotton stockings and thin shoes; for by going lightly shod' in wet weather they may incur an inconvenience of a very different description frotti cold. The Baron de Béranger relates that having secured a pickpocket in the very act of irregular abstraction, he took the

2 G 2

liberty

liberty of inquiring whether there was anything in his face that had procured him the honour of being singled out for such an attempt: Why, Sir,' said the fellow, your face is well enough, but you had on thin shoes and white stockings in dirty weather, and so I made sure you were a flat.'

We are tempted to quote another of Mr. Walker's personal immunities :-

'Once when I was residing at Rome, my horse suddenly ran up a steep bank, and threw me off behind with great force on my head upon a hard bank. I felt a violent shock, and a very unpleasant sensation for the moment, but experienced no bad consequences whatever. For some time previously I had been living very carefully as to diet, and had taken a great deal of exercise, otherwise I am confident I should have suffered greatly, if not fatally.'

Mr. Walker ought certainly to know best; but our equally con fident conviction is, that the escape was entirely owing to the original firmness of the exterior defences of the brain.

Having now ascertained the habits and peculiarities of the Police Magistrate, we turn back to his Preliminary Address, which must be quoted to convey an accurate notion of his plan—

'Dear Reader,-I address you without ceremony, because I do not like ceremony, and because I hope we shall soon be on intimate terms. I have long meditated this mode of introducing myself to your acquaintance, from a belief that it might be for our mutual advantage: for mine, by furnishing a constant and interesting stimulus to my faculties of observation and reflection; for yours, by setting before you an alterative diet of sound and comfortable doctrines, blended with innoxious amusement.

It is my purpose to treat as forcibly, perspicuously, and concisely as each subject and my own ability will allow, of whatever is most interesting aud important in religion and politics, in morals and manners, and in our habits and customs. Besides my graver discussions, I shall present you with original anecdotes, narratives, and miscellaneous matters, and with occasional extracts from other authors, just as I think I can most contribute to your instruction or amusement; and even my lightest articles I shall, as often as I am able, make subservient to the illustration of some sound principle, or the enforcement of some useful precept, at the same time rejecting nothing as too trifling, provided it can excite in you an antibilious sensation, however slight.

In conclusion, I must tell you that with regard to pecuniary profit as an author, I estimate that as I do popularity in ray capacity of magistrate. A desire for popularity has no influence on my decisions, a desire for profit will have none on my writings. I hunt after neither one nor the other. If they follow as consequences of a patient and fearless perseverance in the establishment of right, well and good—I value them on no other terms. I aspire in my present undertaking

to

to set an example towards raising the national tone in whatever concerns us socially or individually, and to this end I shall labour to develope the truth, and seasonably to present it in a form as intelligible and attractive to all ages and conditions as lies in my power.

I have given you my name and additions, that you may be the better able to judge what credit I am entitled to in respect to the different subjects of which I may treat, and as the best security against that license which authors writing anonymously, even when known, are but too apt to allow themselves.'

Here Mr. Walker is unconsciously pluming himself with one of Lord Mansfield's feathers- I wish popularity; but it is that popularity which follows, not that which is run after it is that popularity which, sooner or later, never fails to do justice to the pursuit of noble ends by noble means. His disregard of literary profit may be based on another great lawyer's authority-' Glory is the reward of science, and those who deserve it scorn all meaner views. I speak not of your wretched scribblers for bread, who tease the world with their wretched productions; fourteen years is too long a period for their perishable trash. It was not for gain that Bacon, Newton, Locke, instructed and delighted the world. When the bookseller offered Milton five pounds for his Paradise Lost, he did not reject it, and commit his poem to the flames-nor did he accept the miserable pittance as the reward of his labours: he knew that the real price of his work was immortality, and that posterity would pay it.' Mr. Walker may be supported by the same consciousness; but, sad as the sinking in point of sentiment may be, we own we think there was more sense in Ensign Odoherty's maxim, given in Blackwood, that every unpaid writer is, ex vi termini, an ass.

At the conclusion of Mr. Walker's first Number appears this attractive intimation

Notice. I propose ere long to enter upon three subjects of interest and importance-the Art of Dining and Giving Dinners, the Art of Travelling, and the Art of attaining High Health-all from experience.'

These three Arts' form in fact the staple commodities of the collection. The art of dining and giving dinners, in particular, is expounded with such extent of knowledge, such comprehensiveness of view, such soundness of principle, and delicacy of taste, that we believe we shall best discharge our duty to our readers by making it one of the leading objects of this article. The series is continued through ten or twelve Numbers, at the rate of three or four pages in each, but Mr. Walker deals so largely in that kind of Judgment in Wilkes's Case.

+ Lord Camden's Speech on the great Copyright Case, Becket and Donaldson,

in 1774.

amplification

amplification which rhetoricians find useful in impressing opinions on the mass, that we shall be able to give the sum of his observations and theories within little more than a fifth of the space he has devoted to them. It seems best, however, to quote the greater part of the introductory paper as it stands

'According to the lexicons, the Greek for dinner is Ariston, and therefore for the convenience of the terms, and without entering into any inquiry critical or antiquarian, I call the art of dining, aristology, and those who study it, aristologists. The maxim that practice makes perfect does not apply to our daily habits; for so far as they are concerned, we are ordinarily content with the standard of mediocrity or something rather below. Where study is not absolutely necessary, it is by most people altogether dispensed with, but it is only by an union of study and practice that we can attain anything like perfection. Anybody can dine, but very few know how to dine so as to ensure the greatest quantity of health and enjoyment. Indeed, many people contrive to destroy their health; and as to enjoyment, I shudder when I think how often I have been doomed to only a solemn mockery of it; how often I have sat in durance stately to go through the ceremony of dinner, the essence of which is to be without ceremony, and how often in this land of liberty I have felt myself a slave!

There are three kinds of dinners-solitary dinners, every-day social dinners, and set dinners; all three involving the consideration of cheer, and the last two of society also. Solitary dinners, I think, ought to be avoided as much as possible, because solitude tends to produce thought, and thought tends to the suspension of the digestive powers. When, however, dining alone is necessary, the mind should be disposed to cheerfulness by a previous interval of relaxation from whatever has seriously occupied the attention, and by directing it to so me agreeable object.'

We do not know what agreeable object Mr. Walker particularly points to-but the author of The Parson's Daughter,' when surprised one evening in his arm-chair, two or three hours after dinner, is reported to have apologised, by saying— When one is alone the bottle does come round so often.' It was Sir Hercules Langrishe, we believe, who being asked on a similar occasion, 'Have you finished all that port (three bottles) without assistance?' answered-No-not quite that-I had the assistance of a bottle of Madeira.' To return to his Worship:

'As content ought to be an accompaniment to every meal, punctuality is essential, and the diner and the dinner should be ready at the same time. A chief maxim in dining with comfort is to have what you want when you want it. It is ruinous to have to wait for first one thing, and then another, and to have the little additions brought when what they belong to is half or entirely finished. To avoid this, a little foresight is good, and by way of instance, it is sound practical philosophy to have mustard upon the table before the arrival

of