was a troop of swans. They spread their large glorious wings, and flew away from the cold lands to warmer countries-to the sweet blue lakes; they soared higher and higher, and the poor ugly duckling was quite bewildered with their loveliness and their powers. He could not forget them, those beautiful, those happy birds: he knew not their name, nor whither they flew, but he felt such love to them as he had never felt for anything before: he did not envy them; how could he think of being like them, poor ugly creature, who would have been glad if even the ducks had suffered him to live among them? Winter came, and with it the piercing cold of the north: the duckling was soon obliged to keep swimming round and round in the water of a pond, to prevent its freezing; but every night the hole grew smaller, and he was compelled to move his feet incessantly to keep it open; at length he became very faint, and lay quite benumbed in the ice. The next morning a peasant passed, saw him, broke the ice with his wooden shoe, and bore him home, where he was brought to life again; and the children wanted to play with him; but the duckling was afraid of them, and in his terror he flew up into the milk-dish, so that half the milk was spilt. The peasant's wife began to scream; this frightened him into the buttertub, then into the meal-box, and out again. Heavens! how odd he looked, all milk and meal! And the woman attempted to reach him with the tongs, and the children ran after him, laughing and screaming. What luck for the poor duckling that the door was open! Away he ran, and plunged into the snow, where he lay in a sort of lethargy. But it would be too sad to describe the misery of the wretched creature during the long long winter. When the snow melted, he found himself lying in the fens; soon the sun began to shine warmly, and the larks to sing the sweet spring was come. Then at once he raised his wings; they were far larger than when he last spread them, and bore him rapidly away soon he saw himself in a large garden, where the apple-trees were blooming, where the lilacs exhaled their fragrance, and dipped their long green branches in the deep-winding river. Everything was full of beauty, and upon the water floated three fair swans, lightly skimming the waves with their dazzling wings. The duckling recognised the beautiful birds, and his heart throbbed. I will fly to them, the kingly birds. Perhaps they will kill me, because I who am so ugly have ventured to approach them; but no matter better to be killed by them than to be bitten by the ducks, pecked by the hens, kicked away by the servants, and suffer all that I have done through the long rough winter;' and he swam towards the beautiful swans: they saw him, and approached. 'Kill me,' said the wretched creature, and bowed his head to the surface of the water, and expected instant death. But what did he see in the clear waves? His own image! and lo! he was no longer a clumsy, swarthy bird, ugly and despised-he was himself a swan! (It matters not to have been born in a poultry-yard, if one has but lain in the egg of a swan.) He was almost glad he had suffered so much. Now he knew better how to value all the happiness that surrounded him. And the swans swam round him, and stroked him with their beaks. Some little children came into the garden and cast bread and cakes into the water, and the youngest exclaimed, There is a new swan!' and the other children repeated joyfully, 'Yes, there is a new one!' and they clapped their hands, and danced, and called their father and mother, and bread and cakes were thrown to him, and they all cried, 'The new swan is the most beautiful-so young and fair!' and the old swans bowed to him. Then he felt quite bashful, and hid his head under his wing, he knew not why; but he felt too happy, but not proud; for a kind heart never becomes proud. He felt how despised he had been, and now he heard him self praised as the fairest of those fair birds; and the lilacs bowed to him with their graceful branches; and the sun shone out brightly. Then his eyes sparkled, he lifted his slender, elegant neck, and full of joy, he exclaimed, 'I did not dream of so much happiness when I was the Ugly Duckling.' INTERCOURSE OF THE RUSSIANS AND CHINESE. IN 1728 the treaty of Kiakhta was signed, under which the intercourse between the Russians and Chinese is still carried on. This intercourse is described at some length by Mr Erman, to whose work we return; * and we now propose to condense his sketches, whether of an amusing or informing nature, and render them, from other sources, more complete than his own opportunities permitted. Finding that we shall be unable to notice, as we had proposed, his very interesting account of the Samoyeds near the arctic circle, we must be content to rejoin our traveller as he begins to approach the southern frontiers of Siberia. Here, in the very midst of the largest continent in the world, we find him gazing with wonder upon an inland sea 360 nautical miles in length, and from fifty to seventy broad, and vexed by such sudden and terrible storms, as render it dangerous for vessels to carry topsails. The most violent wind that visits Lake Baikal, as it is called, is the north-west, which sweeps down from lofty and rugged mountains; but squalls almost as perilous are frequent from every point of the compass. The waves in these inland waters are often seven feet high. The avenue of the Chinese trade is carried round the lake in zig-zags over the mountains; but the safest line for traffic is over the ice of the Baikal in winter. By this route our author pursued his strangelydiversified journey. Thick mists,' says he, 'rose like smoke over the water, and seemed to float onward with the torrent, while beyond it we had the boundless surface of the frozen lake glimmering in the distance. Listvenishnaya takes its name from the splendid woods of larch which extend over both sides of the spacious valley. We continued our journey by moonlight, and came to a rugged projection of the hills on our left, which formed a landmark between the Angarà and the lake, and then struck into a narrow tract, hemmed in between its waters and the rocks which confine them. The jagged and shattered outline of these gigantic masses was sufficient proof that the sandstone must have already given place to another formation. An open space now extended for some versts along the shores of the Baikal, and after some time, we came upon a wide extent of ice, which we availed ourselves of, keeping close to the shore till we arrived at the post-house of Kadilnaya. At this point we turned off from the western coast directly across the sea, till we made Posolskoi, on the opposite side. There was no snow upon the ice, so that its surface shone like a polished mirror in the moonlight. The horses that were put under our sledges in Kadilnaya had to be held on each side till the very moment of starting, when they broke at once into full gallop, which they kept up till we landed on the further shore. We completed seven German miles in two hours and a quarter; this is undoubtedly the most extraordinary, as well as the most speedy stage upon any route in Russia. The smoothness of the way, however, was hardly more in our favour than the speed of the Buraet horses, which are supplied at the coast station. The regular and steady tread of our horses' feet rang over the wide and dreary waste, interrupted now and then by the creaking of the sledges, as they yielded to the draught; or by the duller noise emitted from the ice cracking under the increasing severity of the frost.' Beyond this, the windows of the peasants were of pieces of mica sewed together with black horse-hair; and the verst-post of Tarakanova gave the distance of 5963 *From No. 229. from St Petersburg, and 5450 from Moscow.* The inhabitants are thus, as our traveller remarks, but a trifling distance farther from the centre of the earth than they are from their own capital. The trains of sledges laden with tea, which had been a frequent sight along the whole road from Tobolsk, became now more numerous, each train comprising from 50 to 100 one-horse carriages, with tea sewed up in hides. Only a few drivers sufficed for the convoy; and the reason is, that they make it the interest of the horses to follow in line, by placing a bundle of hay on the hinder part of each of the sledges. Relays are hired from station to station, and thus the merchandise may be carried at full speed from Kiakhta to Moscow; and in the wild part of the country we are now traversing, it is curious to see the headlong troop bound out of the way like a flock of sheep when they meet a heavy carriage. In Russia, the post-drivers are frequently the heroes of the popular ballads, and for a reason which appears to have escaped Mr Erman, although in the first volume he gives an instance of the fact. Horses are not kept, as elsewhere, by the postmasters: they are obtained from the neighbouring peasants as soon as the vehicle is announced by the scouts that are on the look-out; and the individual to whom they are intrusted by their owners is of course the lightest, liveliest, and boldest young fellow in the family. These are the lads who leave their lasses sighing at their departure, to rejoice at their return; and these are the chartered libertines,' whose familiar intercourse with the world beyond their village gives rise to the incidents of romance and the plaints of poetry. long gowns of black silk, fitting close to the body; their hats were of black felt, nearly in the shape of a crown, the part for the head forming a hemisphere, and having the brim turned up all round: a tassel of red silk falls down on each side from the top where there is a copper stud in the centre, on which a ball of some coloured stone or other material is fixed-this being the mode in which the several ranks are distinguished in China. The merchants here had rarely any such badge, and dare not, as I was informed, wear anything but a golden bulla, as they are accounted to belong only to the lowest class both in China and Russia. They all had cases for their ears, to protect them from the cold. These cases were angular and oblong, made of pasteboard, and covered with black silk, their open side fitting to the temples. Their thick silken skull-caps fell below the edge of their hats, and their heads were shaved, except upon the very crown, from which long queues hung down their backs. A long purse is attached to their girdles, just above the right hip, and in it they carry their tobacco and pipe, with its wooden stem curved at the lower end, and its diminutive bowl of brass. They were all hurrying over the boundary line, for every Chinese is obliged to be in Maimachen before sunset.' These, however, are Russian peasants; and here, as we approach the frontiers of China, we are more interested in the native Siberian Tartars. The Buraets live in tents constructed with poles meeting at the top, and felt hangings. Notwithstanding the usual projection of the cheek-bones, and the oblique and elongated eye, their jetblack hair, expressive eyes, and teeth of unrivalled white-earth. The unvaried sober hues of the Russian side were ness, give them a pleasing look; and the cheeks of the women, notwithstanding the darkness of the skin, are tinged with a ruddy hue. Their dress, extravagantly rich, fits close to the person; and their hair descends from the temples in two thick braids, and is confined round the forehead by a fillet studded with mother-ofpearl, Uralian malachite, and polished coral. Although the fireplace of their tents is nothing more than a hole dug in the earth, with the felt mats and cushions on which they sleep ranged around it, some of their utensils exhibit all the refinement of civilisation. The steel-work of their riding-gear is beautifully engraved, and inlaid with plates of copper and silver. The silver bowls of their pipes (executed by themselves in the steppe) are adorned with reliefs, and inlaid with copper; while the stalk, for the convenience of carriage, is in two parts, closing so neatly, that the bore is air-tight. At a certain horse station, within two or three miles of the frontier, are four regiments of Buraets and one of Tunguzes, armed with bows and sabres; and shortly after leaving this, our traveller found himself at the entrance of Kiakhta, the Russian emporium of trade with the Celestial empire. The Chinese town called Maimachen is represented by Mr Erman as adjoining the other in fact separated only by a gate; but Pallas states that there is a distance of 140 yards, with two posts midway, one inscribed with Russian, and the other with Manchoo characters, to mark the frontier of the two empires. On entering Kiakhta, which resembled a German village, with a single Cossack keeping guard with his drawn sword, Mr Erman found the houses of the merchants of the better class with stairs and balconies in front, and in some cases painted and embellished with architectural ornaments. Three camels met us just as we passed the gate, which were much longer haired than the Chinese camels that we saw afterwards. They belonged to the Buraets of Selenginsk, who were now thronging the streets on their way to a religious festival at Maimachen. Chinese traders, too, met us at every step. They wore *Two English miles are equal to three versts and a fraction. When Pallas visited this place, it contained about 1200 inhabitants; and over each of its four gates there was a wooden guardhouse for the Chinese garrison, consisting of Mongols in tattered clothes, and armed merely with clubs. The Russian emporium was defended by a company of soldiers and some resident Cossacks; and these are all the precautions taken by the two governments for that protection of trade' which, with certain other nations, gives rise to vast standing armies that devour the profits. When Mr Erman passed through the southern gate of Kiakhta, the change seemed like a dream, or the effect of magic; a contrast so startling could hardly be experienced at any other spot upon the succeeded all at once by an exhibition of gaudy finery, more fantastic and extravagant than was ever seen at any Christmas wake or parish village festival in Ger many. The roadway of the streets consists of a bed of well-beaten clay, which is always neatly swept; while the walls of the same material on either side are relieved by windows of Chinese paper. These walls do not at first sight present the appearance of fronts of houses, as the roofs are flat, and not seen from the street. Indeed they are nearly altogether concealed by the gay-coloured paper lanterns and flags with inscriptions on them which are hung out on both sides of the way. Cords, with similar scrolls and lanterns, are likewise stretched from roof to roof across the street. These dazzling decorations stand out in glaring contrast with the dull yellow of the ground and walls. In the open crossings of the streets, which intersect each other at right angles, stood enormous chafing-dishes of cast-iron, like basins, upon a slender pedestal of four feet in height. The benches by which they were surrounded were occupied by teadrinkers, who sat smoking from the little pipes which they carry at their girdles, while their kettles were boil ing at the common fire. It is only the porters and cameldrivers, and the petty dealers that is, Mongols of the lowest class-who thus seek refreshment and chit-chat in the streets. Some of the poorer of the Russian Buracts occasionally resort there too; and both nations avail themselves of the niches or little chapels which are seen at the corners of the adjacent houses. These are dedicated to Buddha; and when the doors were open, we could readily distinguish the images of the saints within. Metal dishes, like those observed by us in the tents at Selenginsk, were placed before these divinities, and filled with consecrated water; and between them were pastils of vegetable extracts, and in the shape of slender yellow rods, which emitted no flame, but a bluish aromatic vapour; we saw reddish tapers, also of tallow, which were occasionally lighted by some passer-by. Similar tapers were burning against the door-frames or walls of the chapels, either in the open air, or in lanterns of various tastes. At sunset, the travellers were quietly and politely turned out of China, it being against the rules for strangers to pass the night in Maimachen. The festival of the White Moon afforded him an opportunity of seeing the place in its holiday dress. On this occasion the Russians visited the Chinese town, and the procession made by the former was received by a troop of actors, who conducted the train to the house of the chief functionary with an incessant clatter of wooden instruments. Here they were received by a crowd of his Chinese guests, each of whom did his best to shake all the Russians by the hand; but the great man himself merely advanced a few steps towards them in a calm and dignified manner. The repast was begun by a course of dried fruits and tea; and when the guests had tasted of everything-this being incumbent upon them as well-bred men-the tables were covered with more substantial food, in small saucers, which the initiated recognised as mushrooms, pheasants, pork, mutton, fish, and the gelatinous dainties of China. As course after course followed each other in long succession, the dishes were not removed, but the full piled upon the empty, till a lofty pyramid was constructed of gastronomical remains. When this second act of the feast was ended-by which time at least a hundred dishes had come upon the table-pipes, ready charged for smoking, were handed round to all the guests, with small glasses of spirits. This interlude did not consume much time, the bowls of the Chinese and Buraet pipes being not larger than a thimble; so that if one would enjoy the few whiffs it affords, he is obliged to conform to the Asiatic custom of swallowing the smoke, allowing a portion to find its way out again by his nostrils. The serious business of the feast was then resumed by the introduction of the third course, consisting of soups; and finally, pipes were again brought in, with a hissing, steaming vessel, containing an infusion of cabbage leaves, drawn off by a cock, and drunk out of teacups. In making tea, it may be said here, the cup is rather a teapot than a drinking vessel. A few leaves of tea are put into it, boiling water poured over them, and when the extract is ready, it is emptied into the saucer, from which it is drunk. After dinner, their entertainer conducted them to one of the temples, where the offerings brought on the occasion of the New Year lay heaped up in hillocks at the feet of the idols. Among them were whole sheep without the skin, plucked fowls, pheasants, and guinea fowls, in their natural positions, and glistening with fat. There was a long table like the counter in European shops, running parallel with the threshold of the temple, so that it was necessary to go round the ends of it in order to get from the door to the statues. On this was now built up an absolute wall of offerings. Six sheep occupied the middle, and round them lay dressed meats and cakes of every kind. The whole was surrounded with an extremely elaborate structure of white dough, which was reared from the ground to the height of five or six feet, so as to be above the table. The dough or paste was formed into an open lattice-work, like that with which we sometimes fence our gardens; but the openings in the lattice-work were here filled with dried fruits and confectionery of the finest kind.' When they returned into the street, it was already dark, and lanterns on long poles were borne before them, the troops of actors, as before, heading the procession, dancing, leaping, and capering, and making an incessant noise with cymbals and wooden drums. In going through the streets, it appeared that the New Year festivities had had a somewhat too enlivening effect upon a Mongol of the lower orders, who carried his audacity to the length of elbowing the great man as they passed each other. The criminal was immediately laid hold of by the police, pushed against the wall till the procession passed, and an iron chain thrown round his neck preparatory to his being carried off to prison. This offence against politeness appeared to be regarded with great indignation by the crowd, who admonished the prisoner in an angry tone, each person ending the objurgation by putting his fist to the man's nose. The procession now visited the houses of the principal merchants, whose servants welcomed them by throwing lighted rockets and crackers over their heads. In the houses they found a banquet resembling the one they had already partaken of; till, as the night advanced, the solids diminished in quantity, and at length the treat was confined to confections, tea, and pipes. Such was New-Year's Day in China. The The merchants of Maimachen, we are told by Pallas, come chiefly from the northern provinces of China. Each has a partner at home, who, at the end of a year, brings a fresh cargo of Chinese commodities, and relieves the other, who returns with his Russian purchases. town resembles in one respect a great convent-all the inhabitants being men; for the Chinese policy strictly prohibits their women from having even the slightest intercourse with foreigners. The commerce is necessarily a trade of barter, for the Russians are prohibited from exporting their own coin, and the Chinese have no coin to export. The former find it more advantageous to take goods in exchange, than bullion at the Chinese standard. The Celestial merchant visits the warehouse of the Russian trader in Kiakhta, and after selecting from his stock, goes into the house with him, and adjusts the price over a cup of tea. They return to the magazine, where the goods are not only sealed, but a confidential person left in charge of them; and then adjourn to Maimachen, where the Russian selects in his turn, and carries back with him his purchases. The want of a circulating medium is supplied, according to Mr Erman, by brick-tea, which is a mixture of the spoiled leaves and stalks of the tea-plant with the leaves of some wild plants and bullocks' blood dried in the oven. It is divided into pieces weighing from three to three and a half pounds. The Manchoos themselves never make use of this production, but to the Mongolian nomades in China, to the Buraets and Kalmuks collectively, to the Russian peasants south of the Baikal, and to most of the Siberian Tatars, it is become as indispensable as bread in Europe. Every brick, or kirpich, contains sixty or seventy portions, because the infusion made with it is mixed also with rye-meal, mutton fat, and with kujir or búsun-that is, salt from the lakes in the steppes. The Russians purchase an immense quantity of it from the Chinese; but besides, the kirpich or brick of tea is the money unit and standard of value, in which the price of every other kind of exchangeable property is expressed.' When it is necessary to pay fractional parts of this strange money, they are cut off by the Russians and Buraets, measuring by the eye; and the Chinese never object to take such pieces in payment. From Russia, we are told by Pallas, the Chinese receive furs and peltry of various kinds; and the demand for these articles is so great, that they are in part supplied even by England, which sends the produce of Hudson's Bay to St Petersburg. Cloth is another staple; the coarser sort of Russia manufacture, the finer English, Prussian, and French. Then there comes a miscellaneous list of rich stuffs, velvets, coarse Russia linen, leather, &c. with camels, horses, horned cattle, and dogs for the chase. In return, the Chinese give raw and manufactured silk, although the exportation of the former is prohibited under pain of death; raw and manufactured cotton, teas, porcelain of all sorts, Japan ware, rhubarb, and numerous other articles. Rhubarb is a monopoly of the Russian government, and is brought to Kiakhta by Bucharian merchants. We have left ourselves no room to follow Mr Erman in his journey eastward to Okhotsk; but we cannot refrain from giving another and concluding picture of native Siberian life. The scene is in a yurt of the Tunguzes, consisting of a single square room, with a flat earthen roof, and a fireplace of beaten earth. This place was occupied, besides the traveller, by ten members of the wandering family of Tatars. We remained in the yurt with the women and the Yakutian servant of the family, who served me as interpreter, for Revyákin spoke only the Yakutian fluently. The women of the house and their unmarried daughters now sat down together on the floor to their work. They were occupied to-day with the last cares of winter, for they were sewing the cover for a birch tent, and were mending the men's reindeer clothing, the torbasás, or water-tight boots (here called súri), and other articles necessary for travelling. In the afternoon the girls went to the river hard by to cut ice, which was in part melted in the kettle, and used for cooking, and a part of it was thrown into a wooden vessel near the fireplace, and kept for drinking. When the work was finished, they began to employ themselves in the yurt with the business of decoration. In an elaborately-made box of birch bark they had treasured up some studs of brass and lead, beads, and old brass springs. These last were now cut into small pieces, and strung with the studs and beads so ingeniously, that a very pretty ornament for the head was made with very poor materials. The Yakut had lent the girl his assistance in making this band at her earnest request.' They then amused themselves by playing cards; and at supper the black bread to which they were treated by the traveller was devoured as the greatest dainty along with the soup and meat. Some singing followed, to pass the time; and then this primitive family sought their berths for the night, each person being provided with a lighted pipe. It will be seen that we have not meddled with the scientific information interspersed throughout these diversified volumes; but this, although not of popular interest, is unquestionably the most valuable portion of the work. ARTIFICIAL BARRIERS TO SOCIAL INTERCOURSE. WE are of opinion that much agreeable and profitable social intercourse is prevented by a want of moral courage in adopting a simple style of entertaining one's friends and acquaintances. Let us look around, and what do we find to be the general state of intercourse between friends and acquaintances in the middle and upper classes of a commercial community? On the one hand, we see an entire abstinence from all social intercourse (except, perhaps, with immediate connexions), arising from economical motives, founded on the impossibility of complying with the supposed requirements of society in this matter. On the other, we find individuals giving, once or twice a year perhaps, an expensive and formal dinner party, or a stiff evening entertainment, at neither of which does any one feel himself at ease; where one is in the midst of a most heterogeneous company, gathered together without any earthly reference to fitness or amalgability, and from which one at last escapes, thankful to find himself again at his own quiet fireside-inwardly vowing that nothing shall ever again tempt him to exchange its genial precincts for any such vain and profitless visiting. During the winter, Mr and Mrs A-have been invited to dinner by Mr and Mrs B, or the young people have had the pleasure of their company requested,' &c. by the C-8. The As consequently feel it incumbent on them to clear off the debt supposed to be owing to the said B- -s and C―s, by inviting them in return; and in order to have a general clearing off of scores, they bethink themselves of all and sundry from whom they have received civilities during the past six or twelve months, and without any consideration whatever as to the harmony of the ingredient members of the company, a great crowd of persons, for the most part utterly unknown to each other, are uncomfortably packed together, the house is turned topsy-turvy for a few days, a great deal of money is foolishly squandered, no comfort or satisfaction has resulted to anybody, and when the affair is over, the givers of the entertainment generally congratulate themselves that a year at least must elapse before they have again to undergo similar trouble and expense. For months after this event, the A-s would as soon think of flying as of asking any of the B- -s, C- -s, or Ds to drop in upon them in a quiet way to spend an evening. With such persons there is no medium between a formal tiresome party and an entire abstinence from all visiting whatever. The fact is, the true secret of genial and improving social intercourse of anything at all approaching even to the name is but little understood, and still less acted upon. The very words 'visiting' or 'meetings of friends' suggest to most minds the idea of expense, domestic inconvenience, anxiety, and trouble. Why should this be so? All kinds of social intercourse ought to be associated with the most pleasing ideas. They ought to be easily attainable, and readily arranged, and should entail little or no disarrangement of the usual domestic routine. When will a few rich persons encourage their less wealthy brethren by systematically adopting in their entertainments & severe and them infinite honour, by tending to emancipate those less almost Spartan simplicity? Such a simplicity would do favoured by the gifts of fortune from the supposed necessity of needless profusion and uncalled-for expense. If such examples were to become prevalent, the consequence would be, that the apparent inequalities between rich and poor would be much softened down-there would be an absence of that painful, but irrational feeling, which constantly haunts many otherwise amiable persons, lest their mode of entertaining those whose incomes are ten or twenty times larger than their own may not be quite comme il faut -we should have less thought taken about mere eating From the Companion, a series of pleasant rational Essays in and drinking, and more about matters of higher import.the Manchester Examiner. SONNET. WHAT felt the world's survivor when the bough WALKING. F. T. Of all kinds of exercise, walking is that which is the most universally attainable, and at the same time the best. Calling so many muscles into action, and especially those of the lower extremities, of which the circulation is apt to be more languidly and imperfectly performed, from the degree of resistance presented by the force of gravity to the return of the blood to the heart-calling, moreover, so much of the moving apparatus of the body into reciprocal and balanced action, flexor and extensor muscles being correspondingly exercised-walking is undoubtedly the best of all exercises for the purposes of health, independently of its secondary, and by no means little useful effect, of carrying the respiratory organs into the freer and purer air, and exposing the system to the extraordinary and (at least in the colder and temperate countries of the earth) the healthful influence of the direct rays of the sun. The degree of the exercise must of course vary with the age, condition, and habits of the individual; but the degree of exercise that is in most cases serviccable is generally much underrated. Two miles a day is the minimum distance which a person of moderate health and strength ought to walk. If the powers of the system increase, or are stronger to begin with, the minimum ought to be four miles. The object should be, in most cases, to walk the four miles in an hour; and the invalid, beginning, perhaps, by walking a mile, or a mile and a half, in an hour, might gradually increase his rate of walking until he had accomplished this end. Quick walking calls more muscles into action than slow walking does, and is therefore better. The muscles of the back and trunk, neck and arms, are comparatively very little used in slow walking. A person can hardly walk quickly without using them to a very considerable degree. It is a maxim so sound and impor tant, as to deserve frequent repetition, that the greater the number of the muscles used, the more advantageous will be the exercise.-Robertson on Diet and Regimen. Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold by D. CHAMBERS, 98 Miller Street, Glasgow; W. S. ORE, 147 Strand, London; and J. M'GLASHAN, 21 D'Olier Street, Dublin.-Printed by W. and R. CHAMBERS, Edinburgh. EDINBURGH JOURNAL CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF 'CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE,' 'CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE,' &c. No. 233. NEW Series. SATURDAY, JUNE 17, 1848. HAUNTED PEOPLE. YOUNG folks are still awed, and old folks either puzzled or amused, by the veracious and circumstantial narratives about seen and unseen supernatural agents; and such books as Mrs Crowe's Night-side of Nature strengthen in some, who would be ashamed to admit it, early impressions, which, though often combated, yet seem too strong and well-founded to be got rid of on all occasions. But notwithstanding the extent to which this actual ghost secretly influences those whom some would deem insufficiently reflecting people, still I believe there is an ideal ghost which affects even many of the thoughtful and educated to an extent of which they are not always conscious, and which is, however, one of the greatest scarecrows to happiness that it is possible to conceive. This ghost is sometimes created by young folks for themselves, and often, too, well-meaning but injudicious friends are the first to raise it; but whatever be its origin, its existence is often unnoticed till it has got such a hold of us, that it costs a world of trouble to get rid of it. Now though most people are familiar with it under various names and shapes, still it may not be useless to add another to the many phases under which it has appeared in print. Some call it the 'fear,' and others the 'love,' of what the world would say; many term it 'emulation,' and more 'envy. In unison with the idea which suggested this paper, I might call it the ghost of imitation;' but as names are bad mediums for conveying one's thoughts, I shall leave my readers to form their own nomenclature. To understand, then, what I mean, reflect for a moment, and consider if there be any one whose acts, whose position in life, whose abilities, whose accomplishments, whose tastes, whose manners, or whose anything you often involuntarily draw into comparison when about to form or act on a judgment of your own. If there be any one the remembrance of whom rises to your mind spontaneously when thinking on a particular subject, so that, before coming to any determination, you regularly fancy to yourself how would he or she act in these circumstances, that person, reader, is your ideal ghost; and the effect of its haunting you is more destructive to your happiness than all the other ghosts you have ever heard or read of. Have you the desire or the necessity to become an author, and in choosing your style, do you think of some popular or eminent writer whose works have first roused you to action, and whose ideas, whose incidents, and whose plans of composition have taken such hold of you, that you almost involuntarily choose such subjects as he has written on; and though shame of being a paltry plagiarist may compel you to use a different, and most likely inferior language, yet in a difficulty you feel your memory groping through your model's works for an idea instead of searching for it within your PRICE 1d. self? that author is your ghost: he has haunted you till he has frightened you out of your self-reliance; and the composition you have so laboured at will only confirm your apprehensions of disappointment and annoyance. To take a more trivial instance: do you feel disinclined to go to church on a Sunday, and still do go, not from conviction of duty, but from reluctance to draw upon yourself the notice of some one you respect? — that some one is a ghost, who has terrified you out of your own good sense; and though you may meet their eyes with self-satisfaction, and without any of that self-condemnation which your absence would have filled you with, still you can't feel that you have acted aright; and no lasting or solid pleasure can result from your mere escape of censure. Do you feel inclined to lie long in bed in the morning, and while so dawdling, think what such a one is doing, and how busy he or she is, and how they would smile (to say the least) if they could look in on you, and see you so lazy?—that such a one is a ghost that will continue to haunt you so long as you have any self-respect left; and unless you lay it by activity and resolution, it will be a constant source of uncomfortableness and unhappiness to you. Is an opportunity of doing what you feel to be a charitable action thrown in your way, and after hesitating about doing it, you feel impelled to it by either the dread of shame from some one seeing you omit it, or the less ignoble motive of bethinking yourself what some one whom you admire would do on such an occasion?-these individuals all haunt you: and I think you can now understand what I mean by a person's being haunted. But, say you, don't all wise people tell us that example is better than precept; and that when we find a person who laudably surpasses others in some particular, the very best thing we can do is to try and do what that person is doing, and so aim at that merit which all commend? True: wise people do say so; but like most of the sayings of wise people, it requires a wise person to understand it. Example is an excellent method for showing what can be done, but a dangerous one for pointing out how that is to be done, or rather for people to adopt in trying to find out how a thing is to be done. Example may show us the great things a man can do; but if we aim at doing similar things, we must find out mainly by ourselves how they can be done by ourselves, and not trust to our imagination, by supposing that others may have done them in a particular way, and therefore that we may do them if we follow in that way. This is a distinction which, if not carefully attended to, will convert what might have been your best friend into your most constant and dangerous foe; and I shall give you my reason for thinking so. It seems to me that though any attentive beholder may clearly understand the external results of a person's conduct, still he must form a very imperfect estimate |