gorge themselves to such an extent with honey, that on holding them head downwards when shot, a spoonful of the luscious fluid will flow from their mouths. Another instance of a curious tongue occurs in the Philip-Island parrot: it resembles the end of a finger, with the nail on the under side, forming a kind of spoon. This bird is further distinguished by barking like a dog. The bronze cuckoo of Australia offers an interesting puzzle to naturalists: it deposits its egg in the nest of the blue wren. This structure is dome-shaped, with a small hole only at the side for entrance; and it is not easy to conceive the mode adopted by the large bird to introduce the egg by an opening so disproportioned to its size. We may add, that the interloper is hatched and reared by his diminutive foster-parents with as much care and attention as his European congener. Among the larger kind of birds, there is an interesting incident connected with the Australian crane, a noble bird, standing four feet in height. It is said to be easily tamed, and being of graceful movements, looks well walking about a garden or pleasure-grounds. Two of these cranes were once kept on the estate of a gentleman near Camden, and so far attracted the notice of a pair of wild birds, as to induce them to settle and feed near the house, make acquaintance with himself and the other members of his establishment, and becoming still tamer, to approach the yard, feed from his hand, and even to follow the domesticated birds into the kitchen, until unfortunately a servant imprudently seizing at one of the wild birds, and tearing a handful of feathers from its back, the wildness of its disposition was roused; and darting forth, followed by its companion, it mounted into the air, soaring higher and higher at every circle, at the same time uttering its hoarse call, which was responded to by the tame birds below. For several days did they return and perform the same evolutions without alighting, until, the dormant impulses of the tame birds being aroused, they also mounted high in the air, winged their way to some far distant part of the country, and never returned to the home where they had been so long fostered.' This awakening of aboriginal instincts has had many parallels among uncultivated specimens of humanity. hawk, of an inch and a-half in length, together with The satin-bower bird is about the size of a crow; its purloinings are for decoration, not for concealment. The bowers are made use of for several years, and repaired when damaged. The most probable supposition as to their use is, that the birds use them as a rendezvous during pairing-time and the period of incubation. Two of these singular structures were brought to Europe by Mr Gould; one of them, with all its ornament of shells and feathers, may be seen at the British Museum. Besides this, there is the spotted bower-bird: the bower of this species is a foot or more longer than the one just described; and the interior is formed of tall grasses, which, by the curve of the outer twigs, are bent over till they meet. The bottom of the bower is paved with stones, which keep the lower extremities of the grass at a proper degree of divergence. There is the same accumulation of ornament as in the former case, half a bushel of shells being not unfrequently found at either end of the avenue or run. The whitest and most glittering are always chosen, and being collected from long distances, must cost the bird considerable labour. The range of this bird extends far into the interior of the country. A third variety, of similar habits, has been discovered on the north-west coast, a region which as yet has been but little visited. Our selections comprise but a very small part of the feathered races of Australia; the study of the numerous varieties which the country produces would afford a subject of inexhaustible interest. What a delightful resource for the emigrant in the back settlements, remote from society, and with but few books at command! With the birds of Australia around him, he need never fall into the vices or degradation of idleness. WORK AND PAY. We select one more example, as peculiarly illustrative of the manifold workings of nature; in fact, while ignorant of the law to which it is to be referred, we may look upon it as a freak. The Ptilonorhynchus holosericus, from THERE is a secret in this subject of work practically its singular habits, has received the name of Satin Bower-known to multitudes, which it yet so happens is seldom bird; its nest has not yet been discovered; and as, pre- embodied in written or spoken counsel. The hardest viously to Mr Gould's visit to Australia, it had not been work is not the most slavish or disheartening, and he who described, he took pains to watch the creature in its effects most has often the greatest share of leisure. To native haunts. This bird, as its name imports, con- illustrate this from the extremes of the industrial scale, structs a bower, not for a dwelling, but as a place of let us take the leading counsel, or the accomplished railrecreation. Its habitat appears to be confined to the way engineer, both of whom are working with their brains district of New South Wales, and Mr Gould first saw it in almost to the utmost point which the human intellect is the woods at the base of the Liverpool Mountains. The capable of reaching. Yet they both have their luxuries bower is usually placed in a retired spot, under the shade and their leisure hours. You meet them in society chatof a tree. The base consists of an extensive and rather ting, laughing-looking as if they had nothing to do; in convex platform of sticks, firmly interwoven, on the the touring season you encounter them in the Highlands, centre of which the bower itself is built: this, like the get through their hard work. Look now at the hand-loom on the Rhine, and yet all the world is wondering how they platform on which it is placed, and with which it is weaver-pale, emaciated, half-fed, half-clad-as solemn interwoven, is formed of sticks and twigs, but of a more and melancholy under the weight of unvarying physical slender and flexible description, the tips of the twigs affliction as if he had taken a monastic vow, and given away being so arranged as to curve inwards, and nearly meet all the joys of this world for an ample reimbursement in at the top. In the interior of the bower, the materials futurity. That man knows no rest but the hours of sleep are so placed that the forks of the twigs are always pre- and the seventh day; every little period he takes from the sented outwards, by which arrangement not the slightest weary monotony of his work is a bit of bread less to him obstruction is offered to the passage of the birds. In and his children: the demon Hunger has possession of this way an avenue about two feet in length is formed; him, and drives him on till he drops at the loom. Yet either end is decorated by gaudy feathers dropped by that man never knew what it was to work hard-and there other birds, inserted between the twigs, and by shells is the secret of all his misery. He found a monotonous and bones laid in a heap, in the interstices of which easy trade to his hand, and in an evil hour he yielded to its seductions. If weavers are wanted,' said a witness on feathers are also placed. The propensity of these birds,' the hand-loom inquiry,' they may be struck into existence pursues Mr Gould, 'to pick up and fly off with any in a month: some branches may be done by boys and girls, attractive object, is so well known to the natives, that and what may be done by a boy, can never reach above a they always search the runs for any small missing article, boy's wages.' as the bowl of a pipe, &c. that may have been accidentally dropped in the bush. I myself found at the entrance of one of them a small neatly-worked stone toma Now I do not mean to maintain that the eminent lawyer and engineer work as many times harder than the handloom weaver as they are better paid. It is the peculiarity of work of every kind that a small addition to the expertness makes a large addition to the remuneration, and that the higher the grade, the more marked is this difference. This arises from the numbers gradually decreasing the further they have outstripped their brethren in excellence. At the point of skill which only three or four men have reached out of so many hundreds, there will be little competition, and high pay: when there are services which only one man can do, he can name his own price. Moreover, the general labour market in its widest sense, including efforts both of mind and body, is affected by various accidents of education, training, and position, which bring to some occupations a scale of remuneration much higher than the members of others can hope by any energy to obtain. Thus it does not follow that the scale of income corresponds with the hardness of the work; but we may take it as a general rule, that high pay is not given without some service being done for it; and that the man who can, by courageous energy in setting his mind, or his hands aided by his mind, to do some useful act requiring skill, will reap a reward for his service. In fact the great dragon to be conquered by the strugglers through this world is indolence. It is because he has yielded to it, that yonder gray-headed gentleman is a clerk in a government office, at a hundred and fifty pounds a year, instead of making a fortune like his schoolfellow the engineer. He found the employment set before himnothing to do but to copy pages or add up columns; no exertion of thought, no risks of failure, but a secured income -and he yielded to the temptation. In his case little harm is done: he has food and clothing, and is content. But go several steps farther down. A still easier operation than writing and casting accounts has tempted eight hundred thousand men to follow a trade which less than half the number would have supplied; and no legislation or parliamentary inquiry, no private benevolence, no relief committee, no poor law, can obviate the devastating result. And forth she comes, the cottage girl, with basket on her arm, 'Twelve bunches for a single groat,' she adds with plaintive cry: And as the sound steals on the breeze, across the quiet vale, torn. HURRY AND HASTE. C. A. M. W. Nor is the small remuneration the only evil of the humblest and most overstocked occupations. Their fol'Never do anything in a hurry,' is the advice given to lowers are the most acutely sensitive to oscillations in the attorneys and solicitors by Mr Warren. 'No one in a money and labour market, and ever the most liable to be hurry can possibly have his wits about him; and remember, deprived of their little bit of bread. Let us just cast a that in the law there is ever an opponent watching to find thought over the manner in which the industrious, careful, you off your guard. You may occasionally be in haste, but and energetic members of society occupy themselves when you need never be in a hurry; take care-resolve-never hard times come. Some of them retrench their expendi- to be so. Remember always that others' interests are ture; they must of course have still as much as will in occupying your attention, and suffer by your inadvertence some way support their families, or they could not do so.by that negligence which generally occasions hurry. A Others increase their exertions. 'It is but mounting a man of first-rate business talents-one who always looks so thousand additional stairs,' said Dr Arbuthnot, when his calm and tranquil, that it makes one's-self feel cool on a hot savings were swept away by the South-Sea scheme. Here summer's day to look at him-once told me that he had and there, active-minded people are excited to new enter- never been in a hurry but once, and that was for an entire prises and conquests over difficulties; they lay open new fortnight, at the commencement of his career. It nearly fields of exertion, or work old ones with renewed energy. killed him: he spoiled everything he touched; he was The additional services so called out are marvellous, and always breathless, and harassed, and miserable; but it did the beneficent effect of the whole operation is, that by him good for life: he resolved never again to be in a hurry these exertions trade revives, and prosperity is restored.-and never was, no, not once, that he could remember, It is a mistake to suppose that these pressures and oscil- during twenty-five years' practice! Observe, I speak of lations arise from too much industry. being hurried and flustered-not of being in haste, for that is often inevitable; but then is always seen the superiority and inferiority of different men. You may indeed almost define hurry as the condition to which an inferior man is reduced by haste. I one day observed, in a committee of the House of Commons, sitting on a railway bill, the chief secretary of the company, during several hours, while great interests were in jeopardy, preserve a truly admirable coolness, tranquillity, and temper, conferring on him immense advantages. His suggestions to counsel were masterly, and exquisitely well-timed; and by the close of the day he had triumphed. "How is it that one never sees you in a hurry?" said I, as we were pacing the long corridor, on our way from the committee-room. "Because it's so expensive," he replied with a significant smile. I shall never forget that observation, and don't you.'-Warren on Attorneys and Solicitors. There may be too much production relatively-too many railways, too much corn, too many ginghams or satin slippers; but if every person is working where his services are required, there cannot be too much industry; and it is the tendency of the exertions made by active men in times of trial, to find out the quarters in which their labours are most useful, and thus restore the equilibrium of the market. A man can seldom turn from a losing to a gaining occupation without doing a benefit, instead of an injury, to the community. But what can that poor creature do who has been accustomed only to give his time, and some rotatory bodily motion, when the service so produced has ceased to be worth the morsel it used to bring him? He cannot reduce his expenditure and live. He cannot increase his exertions, for they are measured by time, not work, and the whole is already taken. He is nearest the edge, and when the blast comes across the great platform of industry, he is blown over the side into the slough of mendicancy, whence he rises no more. From an excellent series of letters in the Daily News, June 1848. [A principle of very great consequence to the humbler classes is here developed. It is not alone necessary to be at labour for many hours; that may be such a labour as not to deserve good remuneration. not all-sufficient that a small trader sticks for the whole day to his shop, for it may be a shop not required in the place, or conducted on too small a scale to be profitable. It is DUTIES AND EVENTS. Duties are ours: events are God's. This removes an infinite burden from the shoulders of the miserable, tempted, dying creature. On this consideration only can he securely lay down his head and close his eyes.-Cecil. Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold by D. CHAMBERS, 20 Argyle Street, Glasgow; W. S. ORR, 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. 264. NEW SERIES. SATURDAY, JANUARY 20, 1849. GIPSY SORCERIES IN THE DECCAN. FROM their first appearance in Europe, about the middle of the fifteenth century, to the present day, the gipsies have been objects of wonder, curiosity, or interest, from the mystery in which their origin is enveloped, and from the singular manner in which they have kept apart from the nations amongst whom they wander. They were originally believed to be Egyptians, but the researches of late years establish the probability, if not the certainty, of India being their mother country. Their language is found to have no affinity with the Coptic; but it bears a strong resemblance to that of Hindoostan; and their arrival in Christendom followed at no great interval of time the period when Timour ravaged and desolated the East, practising cruelties on the wretched natives of India, which might have very probably induced them to emigrate in vast numbers. Whether this latter supposition be correct or not, it is difficult to determine; it is, however, a fact that the gipsies exist as a distinct and numerous caste in Asia; and during a recent visit to the Deccan, I chanced to have an opportunity of seeing a large tribe of these singular outcasts, who came down from the mountains to pay a rude homage to the governor, by exhibiting before him the magic arts which, from far-off ages, have been the heritage of their race. For this purpose they were assembled outside the governor's bungalow at Dahpooree, in a large open space, bounded on one side by the broad stream running through the garden in which the residence is built, and on the other by a hedge of giant jessamine, the post of a Hindoo sentinel. The whole population of the neighbouring little village was assembled, and covered every part of the ground, sitting, after their own strange fashion, on their heels, and all gaping with intense eagerness on the space left near the veranda for the performances of their admired sorceries. Of the simple faith with which they were prepared to witness the spectacle, we had no doubt, both from the expression of their countenances and our knowledge of their extreme superstition; for near our seats stood a young Hindoo mother, carrying an infant whose tiny ankles were tied up in rags, to preserve it from the effects of the evil eye,' which is peculiarly baneful when blue-and we had unhappily admired the little creature on the previous day. PRICE 14d. grains of incense, muttering at the same time an incantation. A wicker basket, of about the size used to hold a baby's wardrobe, was then brought forward, and our gipsy informed us that it was his intention to put a baba (youth) into it; afterwards to change him into a pigeon or dove, and make him fly off whithersoever we chose. The trick did not promise to be very difficult; but we thought differently when we saw the candidate for the metamorphosis. He was a tall, fine-looking lad of sixteen or seventeen, apparently much too big to occupy the space assigned him; but the wizard approaching, threw him on the ground, tied his feet to his hands, and literally doubling him together, dropped him into a sort of cabbage-net, which he fastened over his head. He then brought him round for us to examine the strange prison; and certainly it appeared a clear case of 'I can't get out.' He was consigned to the basket, and a cloth thrown over him, both of course being much raised and distended by the captive they covered. The wizard now began a solemn promenade round the basket to the sound of the tom-tom, muttering mysteriously the while. By degrees the cloth and basket shrank down, growing smaller and smaller, till the latter appeared empty; then the lid was gently raised, and the net and ligatures thrown out: a second circuit made by the old gipsy effected the promised translation, and a white pigeon fluttered from the basket, and directed its flight (as we desired) to Poonah. The enchanter now affected great amazement, called on the boy to come forth, raised and shook the basket, and finally producing a long naked sword, thrust it with loud cries apparently into every crevice of the wicker - work. He then turned, and calling in the direction of Poonah, which was only seven miles off, was answered from a distance by the best ventriloquism I ever heard. This was a summons for the lad to return. He, or rather the pigeon, obeyed. The basket began to swell again, the cloth rose, and the young gipsy sprang forth, leaving us in admiration of his wonderful power of self-compression; as how he could have folded himself into so small a space, we were unable to conceive, nor how he avoided the sharp point of the sword. The second exhibition was far more extraordinary, and more difficult; indeed I could not have believed it, had I not witnessed it myself. A young man stepped forward, and by the assistance of one of the Parsees, who acted as interpreter, informed us, that though it was not usual for the eyes to work as the hands did, he would for once, and to show his respect, &c. for the 6 It was about three in the afternoon, and the sun, still glorious in the cloudless, glowing sky, poured a flood of light upon the whole scene, which was highly pic-burra sahib (great man), use them in a similar manturesque. In a few seconds the circle by the veranda was occupied by an aged wizard, and an assistant beating a tom-tom, or drum. He placed a small pan of lighted charcoal on one side, and cast into it a few ner. A huge piece of stone, two or three feet thick and square, was then placed before him, to which two short lines were strongly attached, having at the ends a small round piece of tin, the size and shape of a sixpence. Lifting his eyelids, and rolling the ball of the eye on one side in a most extraordinary manner, he stooped, inserted these coins inside the lid on the eyes, and closed the lid on them. His hands were then bound behind him, and raising himself slowly, he actually lifted the huge mass by the eyelids from the ground to the level of his waist. How long he would have continued to hold it I cannot tell, for the ladies present were so shocked at the really terrible exhibition, that they insisted on his being commanded to let it go. He was rewarded by a gift of ten rupees. We afterwards inquired if this power or art were common amongst the gipsy tribes, and were told it was not: being rather rare, and highly esteemed by them, the performer always expected an extra present from the spectators. Our Parsee servant added, that the practice entailed early blindness on its possessor. A man then seated himself before us, and ordered one of his companions to light the fire,' a command which was immediately obeyed; the fireplace being actually the speaker's head, on which they placed a piece of something that looked like black mud, and on it kindled a blaze of some height. The fire-king, as he called himself, then opened his mouth, and received a lump of fire into it, from which he puffed volumes of smoke both from his mouth and nostrils; and certainly no one could look more like the Zatanai' he personated than he did, for his eyes were large, and glitteringly black and white, his features deformed, and his skin swarthy. Then followed the equally common snake-charmers, with their huge basket of civilised reptiles. It is perhaps less curious to see these creatures move to the monotonous music which is supposed to influence them, than to examine at leisure, and with impunity, their different appearances; from the frightful cobra de capello, to the deadly cobra manilla, the bite of which I once narrowly escaped by the presence of mind of a young child, who, without speaking, pulled me back at the moment my foot was descending on the step where it lay. This snake exhibition is common all over India, as well as that which followed it-the juggler and his golden balls. Some of the gipsy women then advanced to display their skill; but they were anything but interesting 'magas. For the most part they were old, and very ugly, and their chief cleverness appeared to consist in making a fountain of their nose, from which they showered in a continuous stream the water they drew into their mouth from a small tube. Swordsmen followed, and really displayed the most wonderful skill with their weapons. When their fencing was concluded, they made a huge pile of their swords, the points being upwards, and leaped over it with great agility and boldness. The entertainment concluded by several men breaking cocoa-nuts with their heads-a feat which they achieved by throwing the huge fruit high into the air, and catching it on their skulls, which were certainly of the thickest, as, though they sounded fearfully, they did not appear hurt by a blow which separated the shell of the cocoa-nut. By the time they had finished their employment of nutcracking, the sun had nearly set, and the burra sahib, after gracious commendations, and a very liberal bucksheesh, dismissed her Majesty's gipsy lieges, though they assured us they had many excellent tricks still in store. We were, however, weary, and believed the actors must be so too; therefore further proffers were declined, to their great surprise, as we were told; for the native princes or chiefs can never have enough of similar exhibitions, and tax the poor creatures' powers almost beyond endurance when they are thus brought before them. The exhibition had greatly amused us, both from the skill of the people and the picturesque effect of their wild appearance and costume. Their own apparent faith in the incantations they muttered, and the real credence bestowed on their powers by the native spectators, gave a reality to the scene which no English jugglery can ever possess. The sword exercise and cocoa-nut breaking were accompanied by shrill, animated, and exciting cries. Of their skill in palmistry we were unable to judge, as we did not understand their language; but we were told that their prophetical gifts are very similar to those of the European brethren. About three or four days afterwards, as we were returning from a drive, we met the whole tribe on their march back to the mountains. The road was narrow, and they were therefore obliged to move to one side, passing in a long-continued and most picturesque file, beneath the sweet mimosa-trees that bordered the way. One might almost have fancied himself living in the age of the Patriarchs, and witnessing the journeyings of a people, as he gazed on them. The strong men came first, each armed with a tall staff; then the women, bearing their infants on their hips, or leading the young children by the hand; old crones and ancient men followed, with such cattle as they possessed, and bundles, containing, as we supposed, their property. They all salaamed us with kindly smiles as they glided by; and we watched them with considerable interest for some time, the great plain they traversed permitting us to see them till they were lost in the dim though brief twilight. We never saw the gipsies of the Deccan more; but we have often thought and talked of them, and regretted that the energies they displayed, and the toil by which they must have brought many of their performances to perfection, had not been more worthily employed and better directed. They follow strictly the wise injunction, Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might;' though unhappily their hand, through ignorance, finds little to do that is useful or becoming rational beings; and they are thus far examples to those who, living in the light of civilisation, never exert the capabilities, whether mental or physical, which their Creator has bestowed. Many a sluggard of our enlightened Europe might thus derive a useful lesson from the wild gipsies of Hindoostan. A SECOND GLANCE AT MR MACAULAY'S HISTORY. MR MACAULAY's book must undoubtedly be what is called the book of the season.' It comes at an opportune time; in the midst of the revolutions of so many despotic governments, telling the tale of the sober and bloodless revolution which we passed through a hundred and sixty years ago-made sober and bloodless because we had never, like the continental nations, allowed our early popular institutions to be torn from us, and therefore had always something of a timehonoured character round which to rally. The whole story of James II.'s reign reads like a drama or a romance. It is a fair struggle between two principles, with victory or death for the issue. On one side a monarch, naturally weak, and not very good-hearted, driven by bigotry into tyrannical courses, with only the frail support of a few profligate statesmen, and a sentiment of loyalty which, though tinged with superstition, was insufficient to sustain men under extreme practical sufferings and dangers; on the other, 'a noble and puissant nation rousing herself, like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks,' to throw off a yoke whose whole merits were of an abstract kind, but which, in such an age, it was almost impiety to challenge. The very struggles of the latter party with their own prejudices are intensely interesting. Mr Macaulay tells the story, we think, somewhat too rhetorically; yet is always animated, picturesque, and entertaining. It will be very curious to find his volumes so universally read as they must be, for it will show how much public attention to a book is affected by peculiarities in writers, by the presumption of their degrees of information, and perhaps also in some measure by currents of taste. We are able to mention, on the best authority, that, upwards of twenty years ago, a history of the English Revolution was published by a respectable writer, and that the sale amounted to only one copy! It would require ten times our space to present any adequate samples of this narrative; but even were that at our command, we would still recommend our readers to go to the book itself: there only can they obtain a thorough idea of the conflict carried on between 1685 and 1688. Perhaps the most intensely-interesting piece of narration is that of Monmouth's insurrection, and its fearfully bloody close. One cannot read without sympathetic anguish of the vain pleading of this unhappy leader for his life before an uncle who knew not pity. The brutalities of Jeffreys make it impossible not to feel a stern pleasure in his own ultimate humiliation and wretched end. We still think, however, that there is wanting in this, as in every other history of the period, a sufficient exposition of the causes of all the bad doings of the latter Stuart governments, in the terrors from which they were a reaction. We are left to wonder at the indignities put on the poor Earl of Argyle, which seem the most wanton and uncalled-for wickedness. The authors of these indignities felt still burning in their bosoms what we know nothing ofthe recollection of the similar indignities put by a kingless parliament on Montrose-which this very earl and his father, it was said, had triumphantly witnessed. Why did men fool themselves with the doctrine of the divine right of kings? Nothing is without a cause. This folly was merely a counteraction against other fanatics, who thought they might treat kings as those of Israel were treated by the Hebrew prophets and people, and who had actually brought one monarch to a violent death. Men submitted to the worst tyranny of the infatuated James, because they had learned thirty years before that there was a worse tyranny in sanctified brewers and leather-sellers. The king himself had seen his father, after many concessions, put to death, and the government destroyed. It was still unsettled -perhaps it is not yet settled-whether the concessions or their insufficiency was the cause of the evil. A wiser man might have doubted whether he should recede or go on. Then it is scarcely possible in our cool days to judge of the religious feelings which were the immediate animating cause of all movements in those times, when the many wonderful and agitating things in the Bible were as yet but freshly burst on the European mind, and men had not half learned in what light they ought to be regarded. Scarcely, we apprehend, could the sincerest Catholic of our day even approach to a conception of the state of mind of King James, with his convictions, enduring for an hour the predominance of the reformed religion. Mr Macaulay, with all the amplitude of his information, is here as deficient as any of his predecessors. The freedom of Mr Macaulay's sketches of familiar things will be relished as a delightful relief to the sobriety of political narrative. Dr Robertson would have been too dignified to descend to such matters-Henry would have brought them in with the dryness of a catalogue. It is reserved for the historical writer of our age to paint a class of people and a department of manners with the unrestrained pencil of La Bruyere and Addison. Take, for example, this little bit respecting the Popish country squire of James II.'s time:'Excluded, when a boy, from Eton and Westminster, when a youth, from Oxford and Cambridge, when a man, from parliament and from the bench of justice, he generally vegetated as quietly as the elms of the avenue which led to his ancestral grange. His corn-fields, his dairy and his cider press, his greyhounds, his fishingrod and his gun, his ale and his tobacco, occupied almost all his thoughts. With his neighbours, in spite of his religion, he was generally on good terms. They knew him to be unambitious and inoffensive. He was almost always of a good old family. He was always a Cavalier. His peculiar notions were not obtruded, and caused no annoyance. He did not, like a Puritan, torment himself and others with scruples about everything that was pleasant: on the contrary, he was as keen a sportsman, and as jolly a boon companion, as any man who had taken the oath of supremacy and the declaration against transubstantiation. He met his brother squires at the cover, was in with them at the death, and, when the sport was over, took them home with him to a venison pasty and to October four years in bottle. The oppressions which he had undergone had not been such as to impel him to any desperate resolution. Even when his church was barbarously persecuted, his life and property were in little danger. The most impudent false witnesses could hardly venture to shock the common sense of mankind by accusing him of being a conspirator. The Papists whom Oates selected for attack were peers, prelates, Jesuits, Benedictines, a busy political agent, a lawyer in high practice, a court physician. The Roman Catholic country gentleman, protected by his obscurity, by his peaceable demeanour, and by the good-will of those among whom he lived, carted his hay or filled his bag with game unmolested, while Coleman and Langhorne, Whitbread and Pickering, Archbishop Plunkett and Lord Stafford, died by the halter or the axe.' Our author's account of the coffee-houses of the seventeenth century looks more like a paper in Bentley or Colburn than a page of a large historical work; yet there can be no doubt that it is as essential to that work as the gravest accounts of parliamentary debates and councils of state. The coffee-house must not be dismissed with a cursory mention. It might indeed at that time have been not improperly called a most important political institution. No parliament had sat for years. The municipal council of the city had ceased to speak the sense of the citizens. Public meetings, harangues, resolutions, and the rest of the modern machinery of agitation, had not yet come into fashion. Nothing resembling the modern newspaper existed. In such circumstances, the coffee-houses were the chief organs through which the public opinion of the metropolis vented itself. The first of these establishments had been set up in the time of the Commonwealth by a Turkey merchant, who had acquired among the Mohammedans a taste for their favourite beverage. The convenience of being able to make appointments in any part of the town, and of being able to pass evenings socially at a very small charge, was so great, that the fashion spread fast. Every man of the upper or middle classes went daily to his coffee-house to learn the news, and to discuss it. Every coffee-house had one or more orators to whose eloquence the crowd listened with admiration, and who soon became, what the journalists of our own time have been called, a fourth estate of the realm. The court had long seen with uneasiness the growth of this new power in the state. An attempt had been made during Danby's administration to close the coffee-houses. But men of all parties missed their usual places of resort so much, that there was a universal outcry. The government did not venture, in opposition to a feeling so strong and general, to enforce a regulation of which the legality might well be questioned. Since that time ten years had elapsed, and during those years the number and influence of the coffee-houses had been constantly increasing. Foreigners remarked that the coffee-house was that which espe cially distinguished London from all other cities; that the coffee-house was the Londoner's home; and that those who wished to find a gentleman, commonly asked not whether he lived in Fleet Street or Chancery Lane, but whether he frequented the Grecian or the Rainbow. Nobody was excluded from those places who laid down his penny at the bar. Yet every rank and profession, and every shade of religious and political opinion, had its own head-quarters. There were houses near St James's Park where the fops congregated, their heads and shoulders covered with black or flaxen wigs, not less ample than those which are now worn by the Chancellor and by the Speaker of the House of Commons. The wig came from Paris, and so did the rest of the |