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for running away with the boat. Now, my lord, we have heard of running horses, but never of running bulls before. Now, my lord, the bull could no more run away with the boat than a man in a coach may be said to run away with the horses; therefore, my lord, how can we punish what is not punishable? How can we eat what is not eatable? Or how can we drink what is not drinkable? Or, as the law says, how can we think on what is not thinkable? Therefore, my lord, as we are counsel in this cause for the bull, if the jury should bring the bull in guilty, the jury would be guilty of a bull."

The counsel for the boat affirmed, that the bull should be nonsuited, because the declaration did not specify of what colour he was; for thus wisely and thus learnedly spoke the counsel: "My lord, if the bull was of no colour, he must be of some colour; and if he was not of any colour, of what colour could the bull be?" I overruled this objection myself (says the reporter) by observing the bull was a white bull, and that white is no colour: besides, as I told my brethren, they should not trouble their heads to talk of colour in the law, for the law can colour anything. The causes went to reference, and, by the award, both bull and boat were acquitted, it being proved that the tide of the river carried them both away. According to the legal maxim, there cannot be a wrong without a remedy, I therefore advised a fresh case to be laid before me, and was of opinion, that as the tide of the river carried both bull and boat away, both bull and boat had a right of action against the water-bailiff.

Upon this opinion an action was commenced, and this point of law arose,-how, whether, when, and whereby, or by whom, the facts could be proved on oath, as the boat was not compos mentis. The evidence point was settled by Boatum's attorney, who declared that for his client he would swear anything.

At the trial, the water-bailiff's charter was read, from the original record in true law Latin, to support an averment in the declaration that the plaintiffs were carried away either by the tide of flood, or the tide of ebb. The water-bailiff's charter stated of him and of the river, whereof or wherein he thereby claimed jurisdiction, as follows:-Aqua bailiffi est magistratus in choisi, sapor omnibus, fishibus, qui habuerunt finnos et scalos, claws, shells, et talos, qui swimmare in freshibus, vel saltibus, riveris, lakos, pondis, canalibus et well-boats, sive oysteri, prawni, whitini, shrimpi, turbutus solus; that is, not turbots alone, but turbots and soles both together. Hereupon arose a nicety of law; for the law is as nice as a new-laid egg, and not to be understood by addle-headed people. Bullum and Boatum mentioned both ebb and flood, to avoid quibbling; but it being proved, that they were carried away neither by the tide of flood, nor by the tide of ebb, but exactly upon the top of high water, they were nonsuited; and thereupon, upon their paying all costs, they were allowed, by the court, to begin again, de novo.



No complicated story can be related in marble, and much that suits description can find no historian in art. Darwin, the poet, planned a monument, recording the genius and inventions of Arkwright: the design exhibited the Pyramids of Egypt, a sphinx, a mummy, and a spinning-machine! On the darkness of his sketch he threw a little light from his pen, and the whole became, in appearance, at once clear, consistent, and characteristic. when the words were away, and the sculptor tried to tell the story with his modelling-tool, all grew dark again. Many are the absurdities committed even in our own times in marble. The invention of the steam-engine has been recorded by the figure of an elephant, which may imply power, but cannot surely represent active motion. When a basis for Chantrey's statue of Grattan was under discussion, one of the orator's friends, and a witty one too, said, "Pedestal ! the best pedestal for him is the Rock of the Constitution-carve that, and put him upon it." "A good notion," answered another of his countrymen; "but how are we to know the Rock of the Constitution from any other rock?"- Family Library; Lives of British Painters and Sculptors.


WHERE's the blind child, so admirably fair,
With guileless dimples, and with flaxen hair
That waves in every breeze? He's often seen
Beside yon cottage wall, or on the green,
With others, match'd in spirit and in size,
Health on their cheeks, and rapture in their eyes.
That full expanse of voice to childhood dear,
Soul of their sports, is duly cherish'd here;
And, hark! that laugh is his-that jovial cry:
He hears the ball and trundling hoop brush by,
And runs the giddy course with all his might-
A very child in every thing but sight.

With circumscribed but not abated powersPlay the great object of his infant hoursIn many a game he takes a noisy part, And shows the native gladness of his heart. But soon he hears, on pleasure all intent, The new suggestion and the quick assent: The grove invites, delight thrills every breast: To leap the ditch, and seek the downy nest, Away they start-leave balls and hoops behind, And one companion leave-the boy is blind!

His fancy paints their distant paths so gay, That childish fortitude awhile gives way; He feels his dreadful loss: yet short the pain: Soon he resumes his cheerfulness again. Pondering how best his moments to employ, He sings his little songs of nameless joy; Creeps on the warm green turf for many an hour, And plucks, by chance, the white and yellow flower; Smoothing their stems, while resting on his knees, He binds a nosegay which he never sees; Along the homeward path then feels his way, Lifting his brow against the shining day, And, with a playful rapture round his eyes, Presents a sighing parent with the prize.



It has been said that no man is a hero in the eyes of his valet-de-chambre; but that this is not universally true, is proved by the account which was given by Mr. Smith, Admiral Collingwood's valued servant. "I entered the admiral's cabin," he observed, "about day-light, and found him already up and dressing. He asked if I had seen the French fleet; and on my replying that I had not, he told me to look out at them, adding that in a very short time we should see a great deal more of them. I then observed a crowd of

ships to leeward; but I could not help looking with still greater interest at the admiral, who during all this time was shaving himself with a composure that

quite astonished me."-" Admiral Collingwood dressed himself that morning with peculiar care; and soon after, meeting Lieutenant Clavell, advised him to pull off his boots. You had better,' he said, 'put on silk stockings, as I have done; for if you should get a shot in the leg, they would be so much more manageable to the surgeon.' He then proceeded to visit the decks, encouraged the men to the discharge of their duty, and addressing the officers, said to them,Now, gentlemen, let us do something to-day that the world may talk of hereafter.""-Life of Lord Collingwood.

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Dr. Parr being asked who was his immediate predecessor in the mastership of the Free School at Norwich, he said it was Barnabas Leman, an honest man, but without learning, and very tyrannical in his discipline. had the impudence to publish, by a half-guinea subscription, what he called an "English Derivative Dictionary,” in quarto. He pretended to find a derivation for every word in Saxon, German, Dutch, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, matter what the word was, however culinary or vernacular, he undertook to find its etymology. Coming to "Pig's Petty-toes," (a Norfolk way of dressing the feet of sucking pigs,) he was a little puzzled, but it did not stop him; so he wrote, as it now stands in the book, Pig's Petty-toes-a dish of which the author of this Dictionary is extremely fond."

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SING to me in the days of spring-time, beloved; In those days of sweetness, oh, sing to me! When all things by one glad spirit are movedFrom the sky-lark to the bee.

Sing to me in the days of summer-time, dearest ; In those days of fire, oh, sing to me, then! When suns are brightest, and skies are clearest, Sing, sing in the woods again.

Sing to me still in the autumn's glory;

In the golden fall-time, oh, be not mute! Some sweet, wild ditty from ancient story, That well with the times may suit.

Sing to me still in the hours of sadness,

When winter across the sky is driven;

But sing not the wild tones of mirth and gladness→→ Then sing of peace and heaven.



We have been so much gratified by the perusal of the following letter, that, at the risk of being thought excessively egotistical, and at the risk, too, of offending some of our English readers who cannot decipher Scotch hieroglyphics, we give it as we received it, with the exception of a very little pruning. The censure of the writer is worth a thousand laudatory criticisms, because the censure proceeds from a man who not only reads but appreciates, In reply to him, and to others who have written in a similar strain, we say first, that our sins of omission and commission are not very extensive; and, second, that they arose chiefly from inexperience, and the hesitation and uncertainty which inexperience causes. Circumstances, too, arose from time to time, over which we had little control, which prevented us from immediately fulfilling promises. We trust that, in future, our attentive and attached readers will find less cause of complaint; and though, in addressing an audience of various tastes and inclinations, it is impossible to please everybody, and some will be offended with the very things which gratify others, still, with the Letter-Box as an echo, it is not likely that we shall stray very far from our right path.


"MR. EDITOR,-Ceremonies and apologies are the fashion of the day in which we live, and at the hands of a puir Scotchman sic like things may be luiked for by you, for this daring attempt to trespass on yer attention for a wee while; sae I maun frankly tell ye, that ye hae yersel to blame a'thegither.

"Ye hae open't a Letter-Box for the use o' your readers, an' as I am ane o' them and may be nane o' the least attentive-why I should be thocht imperti. nent for availing mysel o' a preeviledge o' yer ain granting is mair than I can foresee. However, be that as it may, I shall try my han' for aince, an' wi' some kind o' confidence too, because I am really disposed to look upon ye as a decent, ceevil sort o' chiel, an' a lad that's no likely to tak amiss ony thing whilk I―ane o' the simplest and poorest o' yer readers—may gie utterance to. "I hae vera little doubt but that, since ye opened yer Letter-Box, yer correspondents will hae slaiket ye ower wi' praise on nae sma' scale; maybe by this time ye're sick o' sic like commendations. Ye maun bear wi' me, however while I cast in my puir mite o' admiration; for, truly, they wha attempt to gie ye ower muckle praise wull hae nae easy task to perform.

"On the first appearance o' yer Journal, I was tempted to buy the Preliminary Number; ye promised sae fair that I bought the next, an' so forth, till 1 bae at this moment a' the monthly Parts. It wad be but a puir meed o' praise to say that ye hae keepit yer Prospectus to the letter; yer articles, sae far as they gang, are irreproachable: an' it is cheerin to my heart at least, to see ae Journal stan' opposed like a giant to the trashy, balefu', ephemeral publications with which the press teems in our day. Au' even when we compare yer periodical wi' ithers stamped as truly valuable by the unanimous voice o' the public, they, in my opinion, may hide their dineenished heads before yours. Sincerely do I hope that your example may speedily be followed by ithers o' yer brethren. I wad rejoice to see the whole tribe o' Journals an' Magazeens conducked on the same principles as yours; and in that case I wad cheerfully respond to your favourite maxim, Man is progressing.'

"It is truly gratifying to see ye tak every opportunity for conneck in the discoveries o' science, o' natur', and airt, wi' the halesome doctrines o' Haly Writ-I mean the Bible. Ay, ay, my man, ye hae ta'en the richt gate to mak' man progress-ye seem to be thoroughly alive to the fact, that science,

airts, and natur, benefit the human race only in sae far as thae things are made subservient to God's Word. I trow ye are sensible o' this, and I just beg that ye may continue in the gude way ye hae begun. Dinna heed the cry o' some senseless craiturs that may say, 'This is a' cant, humbug, an' I dinna ken what a';'-geese, ye ken, maun hiss an' cackle. Kennin this, ye need naither heed their senseless blethers, nor alter yer principles; for, were ye to do sae, I wad venture to prophesy, yer great aim, and the great means needfu' to mak man progress, wad be knocked on the head completely. Gang on then, and prosper; and, my man, while ye may quite lawfully pray that yer Journal may pay in a pecuniary point o' view, dinna forget, at the same time, to ask a blessin upon yer labours intended for the benefit o' yer fallow craiturs. "Whatsoever ye do, whether ye eat or drink, or anything else, do all for God's glory,' is a Bible precept, but ower muckle neglecked by this wise generation.

"I'm fley'd that I may hae been tiresome; juist excoose me, I haena' dune yet. I hae gart this gude pen o' Mosley's sound yer praises; I maun try noo gif it can gie ye a bit flyte (i. e. scold). How in the world does it happen that ye begin articles to whilk there is nae conclusion? Ye gied us a capital wee sketch o' our English translations o' the Bible in a vera early Number, promisin to return to the subject on a subsequent occasion. Ye left the article 'Mada. gascar' in the same condition, gif I'm no mista'en; and maybe mair lay ower in the same plight, for ocht I ken. Noo, shame fa' ye! What d'ye mean by ' a subsequent occasion '-whan will that be?-whan wull the future Number' come out, giein the finishing stroke to apparently forgotten articles? Ye want hints, an' if it war agreeable and convenient, I wad just hint that subjects ocht to be feenished wi' the volume at ony rate. D'ye no think this wad be a better arrangement yersel? Hope deferred maks the heart sick;' and really I hae tint hope a'thegither o' ever seein some o' yer promises fulfilled. "As regards yer articles, the Dawnin o' the Day,' and 'the Mornin Overcast,' they, too, bore the stamp of that excellence whilk pervades the rest, but really I canna but say I was meeserably disappointed wi' the conclusion. Of course, I dinna mean to dictat to ye; I mean naething mair than to gie hints; an' vera far be the thocht frae ye that I mean to gie offence. I hae plenty mair to say, and-but what o'clock's that ?-nae less than twal at e'en, an' I scribblin' awa as viciously as ever, while near my side lie my ain sonsie, canty, tosh, bit wifie, an' rosy-cheeked, chubby, wee callan [boy], sleeping fu' snugly and sweetly in the airms o' Morpheus. I maun lay a' the blame o' my late sittin' on you. Ye'll excoose me for takin' leave o' ye abruptly, and I'll promise that, if spared, ye'll hear frae me again, provided ye dinna gie contrair orders in your Letter-Box. Ae word at pairtin';-dinna set me up as a mark in your Journal, whereat to shoot all yer shafts o' English wit and ridicule ;hae some pity, and spare the feelings of


P. R.—" Allow me to beg the favour of your informing me, through the medium of your Letter-Box,' if a young man, well acquainted with the retail bookselling, but little conversant with the French language, and who could be well recommended, would have any means of obtaining a situation in Paris in that line of business, and what would be about the salary he might expect;would it be sufficient to keep him in board and lodging becoming his situation? Could you give the writer any hint or advice on the subject, you will greatly oblige him."

The desire to "go to Paris," or to the Continent generally, is very strong amongst our young men, and becomes more general every day. In itself it is very commendable, since no mode of improving oneself is so gratifying, so permanent, and so useful, as seeing with one's own eyes, and hearing with one's own ears, and being, as it were, driven into a foreign language by the daily intercourse and necessities of one's position. It is practised to a very large extent by Germans, hundreds of whom annually leave their native places, to spend a given time in Paris and London, and then to return with their accumulated experiences. But to Englishmen in certain circumstances the advantages to be derived should be carefully weighed with the disadvantages, and the probable results. Not a few individuals are in London, who have spent years in Paris, expressly to become perfect in French speech, and who are now in situations, and likely to remain in them, where much of that knowledge, to acquire which they encountered many privations, is of little use to them, because they have no occasions to call it into use. To the great body of persons destined to earn their bread at home, that knowledge of French which they can easily acquire at home will be quite sufficient.

Our correspondent confessedly knows very little of French. His only chance, then, would be, we think, with Galignani, who, our correspondent must be aware, publishes the well-known English newspaper in Paris, and who has also an extensive publishing concern. Galignani, who speaks and writes English perfectly, is an exceedingly active man, is in perpetual correspondence with London, and has always a choice both of English bookselling assistants and printers. Let our correspondent apply to him; we have known instances where answers have been obtained months afterwards, which shows that

Galignani registers applications, and makes use of them when vacancies occur. Our correspondent would not get more, at first, than about 1000 francs per annum (that sounds very large, does it not?) or say 401. per annum. Now, to an Englishman, with his English notions of comfort, 407. in Paris will not go much farther than 501. in London. In fact, an Englishman, not very well acquainted with French, and dependent on a situation, must, in Paris, be prepared to encounter hardships, and either be content to be thrown amongst his own countrymen for society, (which would defeat one of his objects in going to Paris,) or else, amongst Frenchmen, submit to much of that jealousy and aversion which is as strong amongst the mass of the Parisians towards Englishmen, as it was in London some thirty years ago towards Frenchmen. Nor can we wonder at it; the struggle for existence being much stronger in Paris than in London, and foreigners who ge thither to earn their bread appear as interlopers.

Our BOSTON friend, who inquires about the salary he is likely to receive as a bookseller's assistant in London, is informed that it is not likely he would obtain more than 607. (if so much) at first. But some experience of the London trade would be valuable to a young man who intends to return to the provinces; and if, therefore, he can procure a situation in some respectable house before he comes up, or can bring a little money with him, to enable him to live until he can get a situation, we should think a year's residence in London would do him no harm, provided he has the moral courage and the common sense to take care of himself, and be content to live very economically.

A CONSTANT READER says, "In your 34th Number, under the article Cocode-Mer,' is mentioned the difficulty experienced in effecting their germination in this country. Perhaps it may not be known to some of your readers, that seeds which do not commonly germinate in our climate, or in our hot-houses, and which we cannot raise for our gardens or fields, were found by Humboldt to become capable of germinating, when immersed for some days, in a weak solution of chlorine. This discovery has been turned to great advantage in some botanic gardens.

S.-Beef-eater is a jocular appellation given to the yeomen of the royal guard. "It seems probable that the name of buffetiers was formerly assigned to that portion of the yeomen of the guard only who from time to time waited at tables at great solemnities, and were ranged near the buffets. The French in the same manner called their valets who attended the side-board buffets." Beef-eater may therefore be a corruption of buffetier.

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N. S., MANCHESTER, asks respecting the general mode in which the NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS dispose of their dead. There is no universal mode, almost every tribe having a mode somewhat peculiar to itself, with this exception, that by every tribe the dead are placed with their feet to the rising sun. Along with the dead bodies are placed their weapons and medicine bags, pipes, tobacco, provisions, and apparatus for procuring fire,-in fact, everything for a far journey to those "beautiful hunting grounds" which constitute their future state, and where, in the words of Pope, "admitted to that equal sky," they think "their faithful dog will bear them company.' The Indians are particular in paying honours to the dead. The funerals of chiefs and warriors, and of distinguished women, are (we may say, were) attended by the heads of the tribes, and all the people, and the ceremonies are impressive. Some tribes bury their dead in a sitting posture, others prostrate. Several tribes (the Sioux, Mandans, and Riccarees) envelop the bodies in skins, and elevate them on scaffolds, or in the crutches of trees-except where one dies in dishonourable combat, is executed, or otherwise loses his claim to honourable burial, when the public condemnation assigns him an ignoble burial, under the ground. Some tribes deposit the dead bodies in cances, to float about upon their favourite lakes, &c.; and others by suspending their canoes in the branches of


In Mr. Catlin's "Indian Gallery," there is a picture-a scene on Upper Missouri-representing a "back view of the Mandan village, showing their mode of depositing their dead on scaffolds, enveloped in skins, and of preserving and feeding the skulls; 1800 miles above St. Louis. Women feeding the skulls of their relatives with dishes of meat." Mr. Catlin informs us, that this Mandan mode of treating the dead is by no means a "peculiar" mode, as several contiguous tribes are found treating them in a similar manner.

Connected with this North American Indian subject, we may mention that an EDINBURGH correspondent inquires respecting the mode in which the TOMAHAWK is used. This weapon is a handsomely-shaped axe, the handle being usually perforated, to serve as a pipe-the pipe-head being the hammershaped projection which forms a cross with the axe at the end of the handle. It is difficult to restrict its use to any precise form or rule: and, in fact, it is

an article not legitimately connected with Indian modes, being, like guns and scalping-knives, a weapon of civilised construction. The tomahawk, however, is generally made for the treble purpose of smoking, and wielding in war, and also for cutting wood, tent-poles, &c. &c.

It is a mistaken notion generally held, that the tomahawk is thrown at an enemy in battle; in the chase, however, it is often done; but in war, it is a weapon of too great value to an Indian to be out of his hand, and is only used when in close combat, and then is always aimed at the head, preparatory to the use of the scalping-knife.

AN AMATEUR COLLECTOR.-Statements have so repeatedly appeared in periodicals, respecting FARTHINGS of the reign of Anne, that we are surprised our correspondent is not aware that these coins are neither very scarce nor very valuable. Every now and again we hear of somebody having picked up a Queen Anne's farthing, and straightway he imagines he has laid hands on one of the wonderful Three farthings which are supposed to be all that are in existence! Even supposing that there were only three Queen Anne farthings in the wide world, where would be their value? The reign is too recent to give them any historical or antiquarian interest, and their intrinsic value we should hardly fancy to be much more than-a farthing!

Y. X. W., HENLEY ON THAMES.-" Have any further discoveries been made on the subject of Electro-Magnetism?-and is there any probability of its superseding steam in commercial purposes?"

The first part of this question is so exceedingly undefined, that it is not practicable to answer it, unless some data had been given. With regard to the second part of the question, although we must refrain from giving an opinion, we will mention that Professor Jacobi spent several entire days on the Neva, with ten or twelve persons, on board a ten-oared shallop, furnished with paddle-wheels, which were put in motion by an electro-magnetic machine; and, although he was not satisfied with this trial, he adds, "If Heaven preserve my health, which is a little affected by continual labour, I hope that within a year from this time [June last] I shall have equipped an electro-magnetic vessel of from forty to fifty-horse power." Mr. Davidson, of Aberdeen, has also been eminently successful in the same field of discovery; and Professor Patrick Forbes, who writes to Dr. Faraday upon this subject, remarks, that "from what has already been done (i. e. by Mr. Davidson) it seems to be probable that a very great power, in no degree inferior even to that of steam, but much more manageable, much less expensive, and occupying greatly less space (if the coals be taken into account), may be obtained." It also appears that a Mr. William H. Taylor, late of New York, took out a patent in November last, for improvements in obtaining power by means of electro-magnetism.With these few out of many facts, we will leave Y. X. W. to form his own conclusions.

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Our correspondent is of course familiar with the famous experiment of Sir Joseph Banks, as recorded by Peter Pindar, in his Philosophical Transactions. Joking apart, however, the question is a philosophical one. Mr. Edwards informs us, that in the greater number of the crustaceans, though not in all, the tegumentary envelope is very firm, forming a shelly case or armour, in which all the soft parts are contained. The integument consists of a corium and an epidermis, or outer covering, with a pigmentary matter of a peculiar nature, destined to communicate to the epidermis the various colours with which it is ornamented. With regard to the pigmentum, it is not so much a membrane as an amorphous matter diffused through the outermost layer of the superficial membrane. In plain words, the shell contains a colouring matter, which alcohol, ether, the acids, and water at 212° Fahrenheit, change to red, in the greater number of species; though there are some species which may be exposed to the action of all these agents without undergoing any change.

All Letters intended to be answered in the LITERARY LETTER-BOX are to be addressed to "THE EDITOR of the LONDON SATURDAY JOURNAL," and delivered FREE, at 113, Fleet-street.

The VOLUMES of the LONDON Saturday JournAL may be had as follows:VOLUME I., containing Nos. 1 to 26, price 5s. 6d. in cloth. VOLUME II., containing Nos. 27 to 52, price 58. 6d. in cloth. VOLUMES I. and II. bound together, containing the Numbers for 1839, price 10s. 6d. in cloth.

BACK NUMBERS and PARTS, to complete Sets, may always be obtained.

London: WILLIAM SMITH, 113, Fleet Street. Edinburgh: FRASER and Co. Dublin: CURRY and Co.-Printed and Stereotyped by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars,


No. 64.]





more as an angel than a woman, and making my fireside radiant. Nay, we speculated, too, about our prospective family; and

DURING two years of a delicious portion of my life, my leisure though Eliza blushed, and smiled and laughed, her imagination

was devoted to her whose life is now devoted to mine. Three or
four evenings each week, and every Sunday, were considered as
sacred to each other: we walked, talked, laughed, and whispered
in perfect unison; went to church regularly, and returned, com-
menting on the services of the day. Reposing in one another
mutual and entire confidence, and looking forward to a
66 common
event" as the natural termination of our present attachment, we
had no "lovers' quarrels," no fears, no jealousies; the course of
"" was as smooth as the surface of a placid lake on
our "true love
a summer's eve.
There was but one circumstance which threw a bitter into my
gentle girl's cup of happiness and disturbed the serenity of her
temper. In going and coming, we had to pass a house which con-
tained a large family of grown-up daughters, and these had the
idle habit of perpetually staring out from their parlour window
into a quiet little street, whose chief events were the passing of the
baker, the butcher, the beggar, or the ballad-singer. We, of
course, were conspicuous objects for the "broad stares" of what
the Scotch call "tawpies," an expressive word for idle, hoyden
girls; and as the window was scarcely ever without a sentinel, our
approach was telegraphed; "along the line the signal ran," and
some seven or eight heads were presently seen bobbing over one
another, like fish leaping in the water. Nothing annoyed my com-
panion more than to have regularly to run the gauntlet of observa-
tion from these “idle creatures," as she rather bitterly termed
them. She could not change a ribbon on her bonnet, or alter a
boot-lace, without its being carefully noted. I knew, also, that I
was diligently scrutinised by these diligent observers, who "read
off," as the astronomers say, my air, aspect, height, walk, com-
plexion, dress, &c. &c., not without an occasional sneering com-
parison (what an abominable thing it is for a young woman to
sneer!—the almost unfailing indication of a selfish disposition),
but I did not mind it or rather I liked the "joke." A coarse or
a common mind would have enjoyed the triumph of having an at-
tentive "bachelor" to parade regularly before half-a-dozen dam-
sels, not one of whom could boast that a "bachelor" ever entered
their door; but Eliza held the faith that all young women should
be married, and comfortably married too; and therefore she
shrank from provoking envy, where no envy should exist. Pass-
ing this, however, I may repeat that these girls were almost the
only troublers of our quiet and happy courtship: but so sensitive
was Eliza, that, as there was no other way of getting out of the
street than by passing the window of the "tawpies," we have
frequently sat till it was dark, and thereby lost our evening's walk,
rather than go out in daylight and pass under the ordeal of

The wedding-day was fixed, and time flew on. We were a "sensible" couple, and resolved that our wedding should be sober and sedate a quiet breakfast with a few choice friends after the important ceremony, and a still quieter excursion. In fact, being so very "sensible," our imaginations vaulted beyond the weddingday, and sketched out our future domestic felicity. Eliza wanted a nice little cottage "out of town," where, at the garden-gate, on summer evenings, she would watch for me as I returned fatigued from business; and I, on my part, saw my own dear wife, the "light and life" of my existence, moving about my own house,


had already dressed up three or four delightful little creatures with "golden" hair, clear complexions, sparkling eyes, and loud, ringing, merry voices. Then we shook our heads about the awful responsibility of a family; and we laid down plans about how they were to be brought up, educated, and provided for; and we resolved to be economical in our expenses, correct in our deportment, and exact in all our doings-our prospective children were to become little models for the human race. What a deal of romance there is in the hearts of a fond young couple, to be gradually dissipated by broken china bowls, smashed toys, and a number of little et ceteras, "too numerous to mention!"

About three o'clock on a dark, dreary, stormy November morning, I was suddenly roused out of a profound sleep by somebody shaking my shoulder and flaring a candle in my face. When very fatigued, as was the case on the present occasion, I am, like some wild animals, difficult to be awakened, and usually stare in bewilderment before comprehension exerts its influence. did not hear me," said a voice; "I knocked first at the door, and then made bold to enter. You had better get up, sir, for mistress is becoming very bad."


The words of the summons were very indistinctly heard, but I knew the cause; so I drawled out, "Ye-es, I'll get up, immediately." So saying, I sank back in the bed, and was in an instant once more in a sound sleep.

I do not know whether I slept five minutes or an hour, but I was startled by a sharp clicking, caused by the sudden turning of the handle of the door, and the hasty re-entry of my disturber. "Oh, sir, you must get up, you must indeed! I'll leave the candle, sir, but you must be smart."

The voice was the voice of one of a privileged class, who, like the fools of the ancient time, sometimes presume on their prerogative. There was no time, however, for ceremony on the present occasion. "Yes, nurse," I replied, "I'll be up instantly;" and as at that moment a moan struck on my ear, proceeding from the adjoining bed-room, my heart spoke to my heels ;-I was on the floor in a moment, and dressed in a minute.

The wind blew in gusts, the windows danced in their frames, and the rain plashed against the glass. My poor wife tried to hide her agony, and apologised for raising me, though the apology was interrupted by a scream. "Oh, my dear, I am so sorry-but nurse thinks the doctor should be sent for." The house shook, at that moment, to the very foundations. "Really, William, I cannot think of letting you out-you'll be killed by the falling of some chimney-top-send Mary."

Now, I had no particular fancy for going out; but to let the girl go rather jarred with my selfishness. "No, no, my dear, you'll require Mary yourself—I won't be many minutes."

"Well, William, wrap yourself up; take care of yourself. Nurse, go down and help him on with his great-coat-William, take care-oh!"

"Poor dear soul!" said I to myself, as I went out; "thinking of me in the midst of her own suffering. Well, after all, the women are a good set-I hope my poor wife will get well over it!"

In about ten minutes I was standing at the door of a corner

Bradbury and Evans Printers, Whitefriars.


house, with my hand on the brass handle of a bell-pull, round which were engraved the words "Night Bell." It answered my rather vigorous pull with a loud and long-continued reverberation. Meantime I tried to shelter myself within the doorway, for the wind howled round me, and the rain battered and slashed at me, as if it were glad to get a solitary victim who could feel its violence: Nobody came. I rang again. Nobody answered. T interval might be five minutes, but at that moment I could hav sworn in a court of justice that I had stood there half the night. I pulled the third time, and the bell seemed destined to ring for ever, while I made the knocker do the work of a sledge-hammer. At last a footstep shuffled along the passage; the door-chain rattled; the bolts were withdrawn; the key was turned, and a head, the front of which must have weighed heavy from the profusion of its papers, projected, like the Irishman's gun, "round the corner.'

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"Rouse up Dr. Nugent tell him I want him."

"Oh, sir, he's out-but he left word he should be sent for. Are you from Angel-place, sir?"

down stairs to dry myself at the kitchen fire, and the doctor went up stairs to his patient I was going to say, but that is not exactly the word.

By and bye, down came the nurse, her looks full of importance, but struggling to maintain her professional equanimity. A few orders were given to Mary, and Mary flew like a mad-cap, evincing by her excited manner how highly she estimated the honour of even a very humble share in the important proceedings. Then, approaching the fire, where I was standing, nurse muttered a "Beg your pardon, sir," in a tone which seemed to insinuate that I ought to beg her pardon and get out of the way. I never felt so insignificant in my life.

Left for some time to myself, I became uneasy, and went on the stairs to listen if "anybody were coming." I heard the bed-room door open, and presently a shrill scream announced the important fact that I was a papa, and the father of a child blessed with excellent lungs.

Mary now descended, her face as round and as full as the moon, and "wreathed with smiles." "I wish you much joy, "Yes, yes, yes-where is the doctor? I will go for him sir; you have got a son.". "Indeed, I am glad it is a boy." myself."

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"Well then, sir, it is as pretty a baby as I have seen this many a day." I gave Mary half-a-crown. "Thank you, sir—well, I'm sure you will quite doat on the little dear-it's a fine baby, sir, and so large!"

The size of a baby is an essential ingredient in its value. So think the women; and, reader, if you ever visit on such an occasion, beware how you drop a syllable about the little thing being little, even if you should think it could be immersed in a pint vessel.

Up went Mary; and down she came again, to desire me to walk up to see my son. At the door the doctor met me, and we shook hands; and the nurse, sitting in all the glory of her state, called on me to come over and see what a fine little fellow he was. But I went to the mother first; kissed her, and she looked up in my face with such an aspect of triumphant affection, that I loved her more than ever. Then I went to visit my son. "Take him in your arms, sir," said the nurse; "isn't he a glorious little fellow?"

Arrived at the terrace, I saw a long row of houses, every door alike, every knocker alike, and every area alike. I began to doubt whether or not it were 20 or 30 I had to call at, and I paused to consider. The wind drove me onwards, and I began to get angry with myself; my anger only confused my recollection the more. I was now uncertain whether it might not be 36, or 46, or 56. "Drat babies, doctors, nurses, and all!" I exclaimed; "what the plague brings me here?" I looked upwards to see if I could discern any symptoms of bustle, or any glimmering indications that human beings were watching the agonies of human beings. Every window and every house seemed dark and silent as the grave. I now looked round for the watchman, or for anybody who by instinct or observation might help me to detect the presence of a doctor in some one of the "uniformities of Manchester-terrace. Not a living soul could I see. I knocked at 36-no answer. I knocked at 46 the same result. In a passion I knocked and rang at 56, and presently high above-head I heard the whistling sound of a window thrown up, and a deep voice called out, "Well, sir, what do you want?" “Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, I am afraid I am mistaken, but I man-it was shocking-horrible. The little thing seemed so very thought Doctor Nugent was here."

I had never in my life seen a new-born baby. I was the youngest of my father's family, and circumstances so happened that I had never seen a child younger than three weeks or a month old. I now felt shocked. Had it been any other person's child, I could have philosophised on the matter; but my child—my firstborn-the child of her whom I had loved with all the ardour of a youth, and now with all the graver yet stronger attachment of a

little, measured by my usual habits of comparison,-it seemed so "No!" thundered the voice, and the window thundered down helpless, so miserable, and the skin of its face hanging loosely-so after it. like a little old man, and therefore so ugly-that I involuntarily turned away.

Drenched with rain, and out of humour with myself, I blamed the flickering lamps for making me forget the number, and then resolved to run back and give the doctor's servant a good "blowing-up," which she would remember for some time. Turning the corner, I came in rather violent contact with a man wrapped in a cloak, and could have throttled him. Shame, however, succeeded to wrath when I discovered in my antagonist the "Doctor" I was in search of.

"Oh, doctor," said I, "this is lucky-I have been seeking for you like a fool, up and down here. Come along."

We walked for a little way in silence, for the doctor was a thoughtful man and had left a death-bed. I should talk, however. "Well, now, doctor, this circumstance of strangers coming home in the night-time is not very pleasant. I am rather out of humour with the joke."

"Sir," said the doctor, "your wife at home thinks it no joke, and I fancy she has the worst of the bargain. Do you not think, now, that if your safety, or even your comfort required it, she would go out for you, if it were raining cats and dogs?"

I need not record my answer, nor tell whether it were in the affirmative or negative. We shortly arrived at home; I went

"Well now," exclaimed the nurse, who had marked the expression of my countenance, "what's the matter with master? Isn't it a pretty little dear?"

"No!" I replied rather fiercely, and walked away. My wife followed me with her eyes-she could not divine the cause. Mary and the nurse were in raptures with the child; both affirmed it to be so large and so pretty, and the doctor, though not so extravagant in his encomiums, still pronounced it to be a very healthy, fine boy. "Are you sorry it is born, William?" said my wife gently, while the tears were in her eyes. I now felt the necessity for acting the hypocrite, if I did not wish to agitate, perhaps dangerously, her whom I really loved. "No, no, Eliza, no, no! my feelings have been so much excited about you!" I kissed her again, and went over to look a second time at my son. The features were small and regular, and an experienced eye might easily have prognosticated that the child would become a very pretty child. But, as I gazed on it, the face became distorted, preliminary to a scream; and the idea of its smallness and its ugliness so fastened on me, that I was obliged to retreat from the room, under the pretence of faintness and fatigue.

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