persons came to cousult her, and even hid herself to avoid them. Hoffman termed wine a panacea, a universal medicine. He recommended it for weakness of the stomach, indurated and obstructed spleen and liver, flatulence, stone and gravel, fluxes, scorbutic complaints, failure of the senses and mental powers, depression, barrenness, and all the infirmities of age. Pringle ascribes it partly to the prohibition of wine that the plague, smallpox, and inflammatory fevers, annually commit such ravages; and it is said to have been observed in Guienne that such disorders prevail only in those years when the vintage has proved the least favorable. In an old French journal, the Germans are described as a melancholy people, and this disposition is ascribed to the want of wine. The writer says, that in a very small town he has known twenty persons put an end to their lives within the space of a year; and he attributes most of these catastrophes to that dullness and depression which seem to be innate in all the inhabitants of the north. Thus it would appear that wine is a specific for the plague, smallpox, and even melancholy and suicide! Some of these praises, it must be acknowledged, are well founded. Wine is a real and most excellent medicine; but no person has characterised it more justly than Fernelius. "Wine," says he, "is to the human body what manure is to trees it forces the fruit; but it injures the trees." An intelligent gardener is not constantly applying manure, but only when he sees occasion for it. His trees are not to be entirely nourished, but only occasionally strengthened, by manure. He must therefore apply it only when they want it, in such quantity as they may require, and of such a kind as is best adapted to their respective

natures. Such, too, is the whole dietetic system to be observed in regard to wine.

There are many who drink nothing but wine. These are people who would live upon physic, which, by its continual use, becomes a poison. Wine differs far too wide

ly in its nature from the usual aliments of animals to be substituted in their stead without injury. The more powerful a medicine the more hurtful it must be to a healthy person, in proportion to the doses that he takes of it. For this reason, the most spirituous are the most pernicious of good wines, because they are the most operative. When dealers adulterate wines, they combine with their naturally medicinal properties others which do not belong to them, and this infinitely increases the danger. But even good wine is not of benefit to all alike. One species possesses natural advantages over another, depending on the climate in which it grows, on the cultivation of the plant, and on the manner in which the wine is made; and a person may have such a constitution or habit of body, that certain kinds even of the best wines may be hurtful to him. On some future occasion I may take a review of the wines that grow in Europe, with particular reference to these different objects. At present I shall only insist once more on the general principle, that all wine must be taken merely as medicine. It must be adapted to the constitution of each person, pure of its kind, generous aud unadulterated. Believe not the poets, who praise it without qualification, but seldom drink it; and when they extol their Bacchus as the god of joy, of love, of harmony, and the preserver of life, consider it as one of those licences in which the votaries of the Muse have ever assumed the right of indulging.

"Now that the servants are all gone, the table drawn towards the window, and everything comfortable about us, take a good bumper to the King, and let me hear the secret you spoke of before dinner." "Why, really, my dear fellow, I have long wished for an opportunity to disburden myself to some kind and sensible friend-The King, God bless him!--and I know none I can so readily confide in as yourself. You must have seen, I am sure you must have remarked, something new about me of late." "No, nothing, upon my honor, but the same dingy old coat, which you have had, to my certain knowledge, about you these three years." "Tush, don't interrupt I don't mean that. Have you not remarked a change in my manners?""Not the least; just as sheepish and ridiculous as ever," "There now, Simson, you always interrupt me."-" Well, well, go

me;

on."

"Well then, you must know I have turned my attention seriously for the last two or three months to a certain point "-" Aha! Matrimony? Who is it, Billy?" "Now, you promised not to interrupt me. In casting my eyes about "—"Ah, you had always an ugly trick of staring."-"There now again! upon my honor you're too bad I think I have at last found a person who will suit me in every respect our joint labors will produce something good, I hope, when we are fairly united, and the issue of our endeavors "-" What in the world are you talking about now?"-"The person, I tell you, I have chosen, is admirable in every point of view-respectability, interest, and talent."-"Who is it? Who is this wonderful paragon who is going to become one flesh with Mr. Billy Tompkinson?"—"One flesh! Nonsense, man; what can you be talking of ?"—"Stay, Billy;

I'll describe your choice to you :Fair hair, almost approaching to Love's proper hue, celestial rosy red; widish mouth-there is nothing equal to the mouth for expression; cock-nose; a delicate obliquity of vision; pointed chin; age, thirty-five; and the name of this Dulcinea is "-" Mr. William Blackwood, 45, George's Street, Edinburgh; see, there's his address-I am just going to send off the letter. The fact is, my dear Simson, I have turned author; I have written a story or novel, or whatever you like to call it, and before sending it down to the North, I should like very much to have some rational and intelligent person's opinion on its merits."-"Thank you; you could not, I am sure, have applied to a more disinterested friend, or one who would be happier to give you any advice that may benefit your work. (Vain puppy ! what can tempt such a silly fool as this to commence author?" Aside.)

"I thought so, Simson; and, if you'll give no interruption, I shall be most happy to read you the first chapter or two."—"I interrupt you? It is a thing I never did in my life; take another glass before you begin, and depend on my not making the slightest noise-unless I should happen to snore-" Aside.-"Well, then, here goes.—

"It was on the evening of the 15th day of July, in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and twentyeight ""Why, that's just like the beginning of a law paper; but I beg pardon-mum."-" It was on the evening of the 15th day of July, in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and twenty-eight, that a stranger was seen to enter the stable-yard of the Angel Inn, in the ancient town of Bury St. Edmunds. The stranger, from the juvenility of his appearance, was evidently young. His hat was set perpendi

cularly on the top of his head, while his legs were carelessly suspended one on each side of the animal which he bestrode. Buttons of a bright yellow metal relieved the sombre shade of his dark-brown coat and, after dismounting from his horse, he eyed it affectionately for a considerable length of time, and having ordered the hostler to give it a feed of corn, he proceeded into the house. The room into which he was shown was a clean, well-furnished apartment, about sixteen feet by twelve. The fire-place was exactly opposite the door, and above the mantel-piece was suspended a black silhouette of a very fat gentleman, with a Roman nose; while, on the mantel-piece itself, was laid an elegant glass case, containing a representation of the Babes in the Wood, in wax. A small round table was placed in the middle of the room, supported on one leg, which divided, about a foot from the ground, into three separate claws. Another table, surmounted by a large paper tea-tray, was stationed close to the wall; and five rush-bottomed chairs, ranged regularly round the room, completed the furniture of the apartment. The stranger, depositing his hat on the table next him, sat down on one of the chairs we have previously mentioned, and seemed to sink into a reverie of not the most pleasing nature. 'Unhappy that I am!' he at last exclaimed, dashing his hand with energy upon his brow; whither can I turn? Nowhere have I a friend; my uncle opposes my inclinations; Mrs Jobson is severe and cruel to my Sophia; and she herself-wretch, wretch that I am, to have inflicted such woe on so gentle, so susceptible a heart !'". Stop now, Billy; does your hero exclaim all this in the small room you so circumstantially described, sitting alone by himself, without even the waiter to sympathize in his griefs?" "To be sure he does; waiter? nonsense; stop till you know who

he is.

6

The tower of

Saying these words, he rested his head on his hand, and betrayed by the frequency of his sighs, the sorrow that oppressed his breast. Yet why,' he exclaimed, starting up, why give way to dejection? why surrender hope because friends prove unpropitious? So long as my Sophia continue true, never, never, shall I despair.' He rung the small bell upon the table with great vehemence, and having ordered a beef-steak and pickles to be ready for him at ten o'clock, he rushed with renewed confidence and spirit into the open air. On coming out into the street, he found the scene considerably altered The grey light of twilight had now faded into night, and the moon was sailing high in heaven, attended by her galaxy of stars. the ruined monastery, which imparts such an air of grace and dignity to the town of Bury St. Edmunds, was now no longer revealed to the eye by the mellowing rays of the declining sun, but rested in a deep shade, save where it was partially illuminated by the moon, beams as they struggled through the foliage of the trees. Still indulging in melancholy thoughts, the stranger directed his steps towards the old bridge, and sighed at the remembrance of ruined magnificence as he passed the Abbey wall. The wind by this time had risen, without his having perceived it. Dense masses of cloud had congregated in the sky, and occa sionally obscured the moon for a moment, and then floated past her with their dark edges tipt with her silver light, like a rich shawl of the darkest cachemire wool, fringed, as we sometimes may remark, with bright and glittering colors. He had now approached very near the water, when he thought he heard steps close to him, and waited impatiently for a transient glimpse of moonlight to discover from whom the sounds proceeded. The steps seemed those of a heavy man, and occasionally he thought he detected

the clank of spurs. He placed himself as much as possible beneath the shelter of the Abbey wall, and with considerable excitement wait ed for the gratification of his curiosity. A thin haze now passed over the moon, and revealed a figure on the opposite side of the water, but whether a male or female the light did not yet enable him to discover. Suddenly, however, he heard a violent plash in the river, and instinctively rushed forward. For God's sake, stop,' he exclaimed, whoe ver you are, for I solemnly assure you, you have fallen into the water! Yare, yare, hold in your bellowing tackle,' replied the object thus addressed; do you think I don't know water from land, especially when it's running into my boots? The channel perchance is deep; take care of your steps, for if it takes you over the head, and you cannot swim, you will very probably be drowned.'

"The traveller, however, made no answer to this, and the deepest silence succeeded to the previous disturbance in the water. 'Is it possible? thought the stranger; can the individual be already drowned? At least let me try to save him, if, indeed, it be not already too late.' Urged on by these generous feelings, he rushed into the stream; but, greatly to his surprise, he found that he arrived at the other side, without having waded nearly up to his knee; and what added to his astonishment was, that the person whom he had addressed was nowhere to be seen. He perambulated every part of the street, but could not anywhere find the object of his search; and what increased his disappointment was, that he began to have a strange idea of having somewhere or other heard the traveller's voice before. Bewildered, and in a state of considerable suspense, he was now warned by his appetite, and also by a fit of sneezing, which he considered was probably brought on by having wet his feet in his humane

endeavors, that it was time for him to pursue his way back to the inn. He had not proceeded far, when he felt a heavy hand laid on his shoulder, and a voice muttered in his ear, Kites are abroad-beware.' He turned round to the speaker, and saw only a closely-muffled figure, but could not distinguish any features. 'Kites?' he said "Thank God, I care nothing for any kites; they can do no harm to me.'-'The wolf attacks not the shepherd, yet he guards against it for the sake of his flock. Know you of no timid dove whom the kite may wound? Listen.' He applied his lips close to the stranger's ear, and whispered some words which had a surprising effect.-To-night, say you?" said the stranger.Ay, to-night,' he replied; ere the grey dawn, you shall see me again. Farewell.' So saying, the mysterious figure disappeared into one of the smaller streets, and left the stranger to pursue his walk alone. His mind was now in a complete chaos. The information which his visitant had given him was one of the most perplexing nature. Sometimes he was half inclined to doubt its truth; at others, he determined to forego his beef-steak and pickles, and proceed instantly to ascertain whether it was true or false. Amidst these conflicting feelings he arrived at his room. Supper's quite ready, sir,' said the waiter; what do you please to drink, sir?'-'Is your ale mild? Yes, very good indeed, sir.'-'Then bring me a quart of ale.'-' Directly, sir-A note for you, sir.'-'A note for me! where? when? how did it come ? '—' A sailor brought it a few minutes agoSteak's quite hot, sir.'

"The stranger seized the note with avidity. It had no address, and was written in such a miserable hand, as to render it difficult to make out its meaning. He at last, however, deciphered it, and found it to contain these words :-'If you be he as comes from Bungay, and cares for S. M., you will not fail to

be in St. Mary's Churchyard at half past 11 to-night. Yours, Tom Tyger.' 'To-night, in St. Mary's Churchyard,' he muttered, inaudibly. The plot thickens round me on every side; first, the stranger who disappeared in so marvellous a manner near the bridge; then the person who addressed me on my way hither, and who seemed to know what I had believed hidden from every human being, except one; and now this letter, pointing so manifestly to my dear Sophia! In fact, I know not what to think.' In this state of uncertainty, he paid his respects to the viands before him, and had nearly succeeded in demolishing every particle of the solids, when the door opened, and a gentleman walked into the room. Servant, sir,' said the intruder; 'hopes I don't incommode you; but finding as the house be chokeful, takes the liberty to walk in here.'' Sir,' said our hero, swallowing the last morsel with a gulp, 'I certainly hoped to be secure from interruption.'- Don't mention it, I beg, my dear sir,' replied the new comer, taking off his greatcoat, and throwing himself on a chair, don't say a word of it-I knew—indeed, I told the waiter, I was sure you would be delighted to have a companion.-Is the beer good, sir?' As he said these words, he laid hold of the pewter vessel containing the whole of our hero's quart, and, nodding familiarly, drained it to the very bottom. 'D—n, sir!' cried our hero, in a passion, 'what do you mean by that?' 'By what, my good friend; what makes you so angry ?'-'Angry? who the devil can submit to be intruded on by a fellow who flops himself down without ceremony at another gentleman's table, and drinks up every drop of his beer?' -Fellow!' replied the other; 'I'd have you for to know, sir, I'm no fellow of your'n. Confound you and your beer too-can't you order another quart? If it's too much for you, I shall be very happy te

help you to finish it-so ring the bell, and order in a supply.'—Who are you, sir?' roared our hero, in a prodigious rage- who are you, sir, who order me to ring bells, and send for more beer, which you would infallibly pour into your own throat?-Sir, I won't stand it, and if you don't take care, I'll throw you neck and heels out of this window into the street.'-' Now, listen,' said the other, very composedlyIn the first place, this window opens on the stable-yard, and not on the street. In the next place, look at my shoulders, and then at your own. In the third place, sit quietly down in your seat, for even wet feet, I see, can scarcely cool your courage.' -"How do you know my feet are wet, sir?' said our hero, still irrate; are you the person who-Ha-ha-ha! so your curiosity's raised at last!— Come, come, let us have in some more beer-shall be good friends by and bye.'-'Sir, you are one of the most extraordinarily impudent men I ever saw.'-' You may say that, with your own ugly mouth.'

Ugly mouth? what the dev 'There now, you're in a rage again

always flying your kites-they'll bring you on your back some day.' These words were said with the most provoking calmness, and an emphasis was laid on the word 'kites,' which strongly arrested our hero's attention. Resolved to gratify his curiosity, he sat down and said, with as much softness as he could assume,-'Sir, your conduct is undoubtedly very strange-you came in when I had just finished my beef-steak '- -Gadso,' interrupted the intruder, and I've kept you all this time from your cheese! Here, waiter! Waiter, bring this gentleman's cheese, and, waiter, bring in a couple of plates,-—and, waiter, do you hear-fill up the gentleman's pot with the same sort of beer-for I feel myself uncomOur hero monly thirsty again.' checked himself as much as possible while his forced guest gave his