An act was passed by Congress in 1838, to prevent steam-boat disasters, such as have been above enumerated; but the act is exceedingly defective, and, so far as it goes, its provisions are nearly inoperative, because, as we are told, it would be imprudent for magistrates, constables, or other functionaries, to risk their popularity at elections by putting the law in execution. This very strange state of things is alluded to in a work quoted by the reviewer.

"In our peculiar form of government, where almost all officers are elective, even to the constable, no officer is willing to risk his own popularity by the enforcement of an unpopular law. Thereby it is that our laws are so little enforced; that hundreds of our most valuable citizens are deprived of life against all law, because it would be against the interests of trade for an inquest to examine too closely into the causes of such fatal consequences, or to institute legal proceedings to bring the perpetrators to justice. If half the citizens of this country should get blown up, and if it should be likely to affect injuriously the trade and commerce of the other half, by bringing to justice the guilty, no elective officer would risk his popularity by executing the law, without some alternative which should weigh stronger on his mind than the loss of office; and perhaps an appointed officer would find it a rather dangerous business to execute an unpopular law during an excitement, unaided by numbers, which he seldom has at command."

THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN AND HIS
TOWN LOTS.

[By G. P. Morris-From the New York Mirror.] How much real comfort every one might enjoy, if he would be contented with the lot in which heaven has cast him, and how much trouble would be avoided if people would only "let well alone!" A moderate independence, quietly and honestly procured, is certainly every way preferable even to immense possessions achieved by the wear and tear of mind and body so necessary to procure them. Yet there are very few individuals, let them be doing ever so well in the world, who are not always straining every nerve to do better, and this is one of the many causes why failures in business so frequently occur among us. The present generation seem unwilling to "realise" by slow and sure degrees, but choose rather to set their whole hopes upon a single cast, which either makes or mars them for ever!

?

Gentle reader, do you remember Monsieur Poopoo He used to keep a small toy-store in Chatham, near the corner of Pearl Street. You must recollect him, of course. He lived there for many years, and was one of the most polite and accommodating of shopkeepers. When a juvenile, you have bought tops and marbles of him a thousand times. To be sure you have; and seen his vinegar-visage lighted up with a smile as you paid him the coppers; and you have laughed at his little straight queue and his dimity breeches, and all the other oddities that made up the every-day apparel of my little Frenchman. Ah, I perceive you recollect him now.

Well, then, there lived Monsieur Poopoo ever since he came from "dear, delightful Paris," as he used to call the city of his nativity-there he took in the pennies for his kickshaws-there he laid aside five thousand dollars against a rainy day-there he was as happy as a lark-and there, in all human probability, he would have been to this very day, a respected and substantial citizen, had he been willing to "let well alone." But Monsieur Poopoo had heard strange stories about the prodigious rise in real estate, and having understood that most of his neighbours had become suddenly rich by speculating in lots, he instantly became dissatisfied with his own lot, forthwith determined to shut up shop, turn every thing into cash, and set about making money in earnest. No sooner said than done; and our quondam storekeeper a few days afterwards attended a most extensive sale of real estate, at the Merchants' Exchange.

There was the auctioneer, with his beautiful and inviting lithographic maps-all the lots as smooth, and square, and enticingly laid out as possible--and there were the speculators-and there, in the midst of them,

stood Monsieur Poopoo.

"Here they are, gentlemen," said he of the hammer;

"the most valuable lots ever offered for sale. Give me a bid for them?"

"One hundred each," said a bystander. "One hundred !" said the auctioneer; "scarcely enough to pay for the maps. One hundred-goingfifty-gone! Mr H., they are yours. A noble purchase. You'll sell those same lots in less than a fortnight for fifty thousand dollars' profit!"

Monsieur Poopoo pricked up his ears at this, and was lost in astonishment. This was a much easier way of accumulating riches than selling toys in Chatham Street, and he determined to buy, and mend his fortune without delay.

The auctioneer proceeded in his sale. Other parcels were offered and disposed of, and all the purchasers were promised immense advantages for their enterprise. At last came a more valuable parcel than all the rest. The company pressed around the stand, and Monsieur Poopoo did the same.

"I now offer you, gentlemen, these magnificent lots, delightfully situated on Long Island, with valuable water privileges. Property in fee-title unexceptionable-terms of sale, cash-deeds ready for delivery

Monsieur Poopoo was the fortunate possessor. The auctioneer congratulated him-the sale closed-and the company dispersed.

"Pardonnez moi, monsieur," said Poopoo, as the auctioneer descended his pedestal," you shall excusez moi if I shall go to cotre bureau, your counting-house, ver quick to make every ting sure wid respec to de lot vid de valuable vatare privalege. Von feetle bird in de hand be vorth two in de tree, c'est vrai-eh ?” "Certainly, sir.”

"Vell, den, allons."

And the gentlemen repaired to the counting-house, where the six thousand dollars were paid, and the deeds of the property delivered. Monsieur Poopoo put these carefully in his pocket, and as he was about taking his leave, the auctioneer made him a present of the lithographic outline of the lots, which was a very liberal thing on his part, considering the map was a beautiful specimen of that glorious art. Poopoo could not admire it sufficiently. There were his sixty lots as uniform as possible, and his little grey eyes sparkled like diamonds as they wandered from one end of the spacious sheet to the other.

Poopoo's heart was as light as a feather, and he snapped his fingers in the very wantonness of joy as he repaired to Delmonico's, and ordered the first good French dinner that had gladdened his senses since his arrival in America.

After having discussed his repast, and washed it down with a bottle of choice old claret, he resolved upon a visit to Long Island to view his purchase. He consequently immediately hired a horse and gig, crossed the Brooklyn ferry, and drove along the margin of the river to the Wallabout, the location in question.

Our friend, however, was not a little perplexed to find his property. Every thing on the map was as fair and even as possible, while all the grounds about him were as undulated as they could well be imagined, and there was an arm of the East-river running quite into the land, which seemed to have no business there. This puzzled the Frenchman exceedingly; and, being a stranger in those parts, he called to a farmer in an adjacent field,

"Mon ami, are you acquaint vid dis part of de country-eh?"

Yes, I was born here, and know every inch of it." "Ah, c'est bien, dat vill do," and the Frenchman got out of the gig, tied the horse, and produced his litho graphic map.

"Den maybe you vill have de kindness to show me de sixty lot vich 1 have bought, vid de valuable vatare privalege?"

The farmer glanced his eye over the paper. "Yes, sir, with pleasure; if you will be good enough to get into my boat, I will row you out to them!" Vat you say, sare?"

"My friend," said the farmer, "this section of Long Island has recently been bought up by the speculators of New York, and laid out for a great city; but the principal street is only visible at low tide. When this part of the East-river is filled up, it will be just there. Your lots, as you will perceive, are beyond it, and are now all under water."

At first the Frenchman was incredulous. He could not believe his senses. As the facts, however, gradually broke upon him, he looked at the sky-the river the farmer-and then he turned away and gazed at them all over again. There was his ground, sure enough; but then it could not be perceived, for there was a river flowing over it! He drew a box from his waistcoat pocket, opened it, with an emphatic knock upon the lid, took a pinch of snuff, and restored it to his waistcoat pocket as before. Poopoo was evidently in trouble, having "thoughts which often lie too deep for tears;" and as his grief was also too big for words, he untied his horse, jumped into the gig, and returned to the auctioneer in all possible haste.

It was near night when he arrived at the auction room-his horse in a foam and himself in a fury. The auctioneer was leaning back in his chair, with his legs stuck out of a low window, quietly smoking a cigar after the labours of the day, and humming the music from the last new opera.

"Monsieur, I have much plaisir to fin you chez vous, at home."

|

"I do not joke. I nevare joke; je n'entends pas raillerie. Sare, voulez cous have de kindness to give me back de money dat I pay !" "Certainly not."

"Den vill you be so good as to take de East-river off de top of my lot ?"

"That's your business, sir, not mine. "Den I make von mauraise affaire-von gran mistake !"

"I hope not. I don't think you have thrown away your money in the land."

66

No, sare; but I have trow it away in de ritare!” "That's not my fault."

Yes, sare, but it is your fault. You're von ver gran rascal to swindle me out of de l'argent."

"Hollo, old Poopoo, you grow personal; and if you can't keep a civil tongue in your head, you must go out of my office."

"Vare shall I go to, eh?"

"To the devil, for aught I care, you foolish old Frenchman?" said the auctioneer, waxing warm.

"But, sare, I vill not go to de devil to oblige you !" replied the Frenchman, waxing warmer.. "You cheat me out of all de dollar dat I make in Chatham Street; but I vill not go to de devil for all dat. I vill go and drown myself, tout de suite, right avay."

"You couldn't make a better use of your water privileges, old boy !"

"Ah, miséricorde! je suis abimé. I am ruin! I am done up! I am break all into ten tousan leetle pieces! I am von lame duck, and I shall vaddle across de gran ocean for Paris, vish is de only valuable vatare privalege dat is left me á present p

Poor Poopoo was as good as his word. He sailed in the next packet, and arrived in Paris almost as penniless as the day he left it.

Should any one feel disposed to doubt the veritable circumstances here recorded, let him cross the Eastriver to the Wallabout, and farmer J— will ros him out to the very place where the poor Frenchman's lots still remain under water!

BOODHISM.

HITHERTO we have possessed little or no knowledge of any religion prevalent in the East, except that of Brahminism in Hindustan ; and Christian missionaries being consequently ignorant of what they had to contend with in their respective fields of enterprise, a very serious obstacle was placed in the way of their success. There need, however, be no longer any ignorance on the subject. Boodhism, or the religion of Boodh, which prevails over an extensive region in Asia, and numbers more adherents than any other religion in the world, has been lately described in a most luminous manner by Mr Howard Malcom, in his Travels in the Burman Empire,* and from this credible authority we make the following abridged statement:

"Boodhism is probably at this time, and has been for many centuries, the most prevalent form of religion Cochin-China, and Ceylon; all of Camboja, Siam, Burupon earth. Half of the population of China, Lao, mah, Thibet, Tartary, and Loo-Choo; and a great part of Japan, and most of the other islands of the

southern seas, are of this faith.

Boodh is a general term for divinity, and not the name of any particular god. There have been innumerable Boodhs, in different ages, among different worlds, but in no world more than five, and in some not any. In this world there have been four Boodhs, namely, Kan-ka-than, Gau-na-göng, Ka-tha-pa, and Gaudama. One is yet to come, namely, Aree-ma

day-eh.

It has often been supposed that Boodhism resembles Brahminism or Hinduism, which is a great mistake. No two systems can be more opposite, or bear less evidence of being derived from each other. Brahminism has incarnations, but Boodhism admits of none, for it has no permanent god. That has a host That enjoins bloody saeriof idols; this only one. fices; this forbids all killing. That requires atrocious self-tortures; this inculcates fewer austerities than even Popery. That makes lying, theft, and other vices, sometimes commendable, and describes the gods as excelling in these enormities; this never confounds right and wrong, and never excuses any sin. That makes absorption into deity the supreme good; this annihilation. In fine, I know of no important resemblance.

Boodhism inculcates no principle of caste, which is a striking difference from what prevails among the indus, and from this and other causes it is believed to be much more ancient as a religious faith than Brahminism. The probability seems to be, that Brahminism grew out of Boodhism, and gained power and numbers in Hindustan till the close of the first century of the Christian era, when the Brahmins were able to commence that persecution of which their own records speak, and which drove out the teachers of I have been to see de Boodhism into Farther India, whence it extended into China.

"Ah, Poopoo! glad to see you. Take a seat, old boy."

But I shall not take de seat, sare." "No-why, what's the matter?" "Oh, beaucoup de matter. gran lot dat you sell me to-day." "Well, sir, I hope you like your purchase?" "No, monsieur, but I do not like it at all.” "I'm sorry for it; but there is no ground for your complaint."

"No, sare; dere is no ground at all-de ground is all vatare." "You joke."

The most extraordinary peculiarity of Boodhism is the want of any existing God. Adoration or respect is merely paid to the image of Gaudama, who was a god at a former period, but is now annihilated, or entered into annihilation. Gaudama was the son of a king,

* People's Editions: published by W. and R. Chambers.

benevolence, would become extinct under such a system, had not Jehovah planted their rudiments in the human constitution. If his neighbour's boat be upset, or his house on fire, why should the Boodhist assist? He supposes such events to be the unavoidable consequences of demerit in a former existence; and if this suffering be averted, there must be another of equal magnitude. He even fears, that by his interfering to prevent or assuage his neighbour's calamity, he is resisting established fate, and bringing evil on his own head.

The same doctrine of merit destroys gratitude, either to God or man. If he is well off, it is because he deserves to be so. If you do him a kindness, he cannot be persuaded that you have any other object or reason than to get merit, and feels that he compensates your generosity by furnishing the occasion. If the kindness be uncommon, he always suspects you of sinister designs. In asking a favour, at least of an equal, he does it peremptorily, and often haughtily, on the presumption that you will embrace the opportunity of getting merit; and when his request is granted, retires without the slightest expression of gratitude.

Boodhism allows evil to be balanced with good, by a scale which reduces sin to the shadow of a trifle. To sheeko to a pagoda, or offer a flower to the idol, or feed the priests, or set a pot of cool water by the wayside, is supposed to cancel a multitude of sins. The building of a kyoung or pagoda will outweigh enormous crimes, and secure prosperity for ages to come. Vice is thus robbed of its terrors, for it can be overbalanced by easy virtues.

May the favoured ones of our happy land be induced to discharge their duty to these benighted millions !"

GEOGRAPHICAL CIRCUMSTANCES AFFECTING THE DISTRIBUTION OF RACES.

[This is a brief extract from the Messrs Blacks' new and comprehensive geographical work, founded on the systems of Malte Brun and Balbi, of which the first part only has as yet appeared. As far as we can judge from the specimen before us, we are inclined to think that this work will be one of the most faithful, and, in proportion to price, most ample works of the kind as yet presented to the British public.]

IN casting a rapid glance over the globe, we perceive at once that the parts that enjoy the mildest and most equal temperature, that most abound in rivers, and present the longest line of sea-coast thus possessing the easy means of communicating with other places, are or have been formerly also the most numerously peopled, and the most anciently civilised. In all countries, whatever may be their condition as to civilisation, it is along the gulfs, at the mouths, or on the banks of rivers, that we find the densest population. Mankind, in their migrations and their increase, are subjected to laws as invariable as those that guide and control the lower animals. They spread themselves in all the places that offer them the means of subsistence, and stop where they find these no longer; and if we inquire, what is the order which they follow in their migrations, we find they are distributed by families, in the same manner as the waters are divided. If, for example, in any country, we ascend from the mouth of a river to the sources of both the main stream and its tributaries or affluents, we generally find, upon both banks, people belonging to the same family, speaking the same Innguage, or dialects of the same language, and having similar manners and customs. This fact, which seems to exist in all countries, is most easily observed in those of Europe. Several large rivers rise in the Alps, near each other, but run to the sea in different directions. If we ascend the Po and its affluents, we find on all their banks people of the Italian race; if we ascend the Rhine and its affluents, we find on both banks people of the Teutonic, Dutch, or German race; if we ascend the Rhone and its affluents, we find people who speak the French language; but in the mountains, where all these river basins ineet, there is found a confederation of different people, consisting of French, Italians, and Germans. These divisions are independent of political combinations, and of the kinds of government to which the people are subjected. Thus, those who dwell in the basin of the Rhone all speak the same language, although they are distributed among five independent governments, namely, France, Sardinia, Valais, Vaud, and Geneva. The people of the Rhine are all of the Dutch race, although divided among the governments of France, Switzerland, Prussia, Holland, and many others. The people of the basin of the Po belong all to the Italian race, although some of them live under the Swiss confederation, some under Italian governments, and others are subjects of Austria. Diplomatic arrangements and political violence often disturb the natural divisions of people, but this order, though often shaken, can hardly ever be effaced. Unity of government will be found equally powerless in uniting people who are divided by natural arrangements. Piedmont and Savoy have been for centuries subjected to the same government, and yet the manners, language, and interests of the inhabitants of these two countries, are as distinct at this day as before they were politically united. In like manner, in Switzerland, Dutch, Italians, and French, are united under the same federal government, yet each race preserves its distinctive characteristics. In France, successive governments have employed every possible means to give unity to the diverse races subject to their authority. The territory has been cut up into shreds; uniform legislation, administration, and systems of education, have been introduced into that country, and yet the desired object has not been attained. In France there are almost every where two idioms, that of the country and that of the seat of government; the former spoken by the mass of the population, and having for its natural limits the crests of the mountain ridges; the latter spoken out of its native country only by the agents of government and by the educated classes. Nor are the interests of these

divided races less distinct than their languages. The same phenomenon is exhibited on a still greater scale in China. That country is divided into many natural provinces by the water-sheds of its river-basins; each of these provinces has its own dialect and separate interests; and the agents of government, and the literary class, are obliged to communicate with the people in the vernacular tongue of the latter; but every where carry on their intercourse with one another by means of the language of Kiangnan, the seat of the Imperial court under the last native dynasty. India, under the dominion of the Moguls and the British, is another instance; and almost every other country exhibits something of the same kind, varying, of course, with different modifying circumstances.

LINES ON A DEAD SOLDIER.
Wreck of a warrior pass'd away,

Thou form without a name!
Which thought and felt but yesterday,
And dreamt of future fame.
Stripped of thy garments, who shall guess
Thy rank, thy lineage, and race?
If haughty chieftain holding sway,
Or lowlier destined to obey!
The light of that fixed eye is set,
And all is moveless now,
But passion's traces linger yet,

And lower upon that brow:
Expression has not yet wax'd weak,
The lips seem e'en in act to speak,
And clenched the cold and lifeless hand,
As if it grasped the battle brand.

Though from that head, late towering high,
The waving plume is torn,

And low in dust that form doth lie,
Dishonour'd and forlorn,

Yet death's dark shadow cannot hide
The graven characters of pride,
That on the lip and brow reveal
The impress of the spirit's seal.
Lives there a mother to deplore
The son she ne'er shall see?

Or maiden, on some distant shore,
To break her heart for thee?
Perchance to roam a maniac there,
With wild-flower wreaths to deck her hair,
And through the weary night to wait
Thy footsteps at the lonely gate.
Long shall she linger there, in vain
The evening fire shall trim,
And gazing on the darkening main,
Shall often call on him

Who hears her not-who cannot hear:
Oh! deaf for ever is the ear
That once in listening rapture hung
Upon the music of her tongue!
Long may she dream-to wake is woe!
Ne'er may remembrance tell
Its tale to bid her sorrows flow,
And hope to sigh farewell;
The heart, bereaving of its stay,
Quenching the beam that cheers her way
Along the waste of life-till she
Shall lay her down and sleep like thee!
-Poems of John Malcolm.

HIGHLAND DEER.

Donald M'Kay, a farmer, who lived in a remote glen on the estate of Reay, in Sutherland, received so much injury from the depredations of the forest deer, which made continual inroads upon his crops, invading him from the west and from the north, that he at length marched off to Tongue, the residence of his landlord and chief, to endeavour to obtain some redress. Having obtained an audience, Lord Reay, who probably gave little credit to his tale, told him to go back and pound the deer whenever they trespassed in future. Donald did not presume to say aught against his reception, though he was bitterly vexed at having walked forty miles for nothing. On his arrival at his little farm, he set his wits to work to devise some place for making use of the permission which had been conceded to him. Donald was a shrewd fellow; but it was not particularly easy to pound the denizens of the mountains. He was pretty secure for the present, as he had built a large barn, and kept his crop on rafters, out of the reach of all depredators. When the winter came on, he put part of this crop very carefully into one end of this barn, and barred it in with sticks and fir roots in such a manner that no beast or person could get at it. About the end of November, a very heavy fall of snow came on, and the ground was wholly covered with it. The second or third night after the storm fell, the wind was from the west, and Donald spread the sheaves on the rafters, the barn door giving eastward: he then threw the door wide open, and tied a long rope of hair to it, the end of which he took in at the only window that was behind the dwelling-house. He took his station within the window, with the end of the tether in his hand. He had not been long in this situation before he saw the gaunt and starving animals approaching. They came forward slowly and cautiously, stopping at intervals, and examining every object: at length the cravings of hunger prevailed, and two hinds walked into the barn, and began eating the corn. The stags soon followed, and some of them had great difficulty in getting their antlers through the narrow door. As soon as ten had entered, Donald pulled the tether, and made the door secure. More blythe than before, he set off a second time for Tongue, travelling as fast as his legs could carry him. On his arrival, he craved an audience of Lord Reay, and told in Gaelic that he had followed his advice, and pounded ten of his deer. "I might," said he," as well have had a hundred as ten; but I could not afford to give them straw, whilst I come to report the affair to your lordship." Not a little incredulous, Lord Reay dispatched two men to ascertain the truth of the matter. The deer were found imprisoned, and were liberated. M'Kay then came to terms with his chief, who very handsomely gave

his farm rent free for his life, on condition that he did not pound any more deer.-Scrope's Deer-Stalking.

MATHEWS AND THE IRISH BEGGAR.

Mr Mathews had a great dislike to carry money about him, and this often exposed him to trifling annoyances. On one occasion, while in Wales, on arriving at Briton Ferry on horseback, having ridden on in advance of his friends, he was obliged to wait their arrival, not having a single shilling to pay the ferryman:-"Just at this mo ment an Irish beggar, in the most miserable plight, came up, and poured forth all that lamentable cant of alleged destitution which it is their vocation to impress upon the tinder-hearted, and which seldom fails to draw forth sparks of compassion. My husband, however, assured the appli cant (who declared he was 'making his way back to ould Ireland without bit or sip for days together, and that a halfpenny itself would be a treasure to him") that he had not even a farthing to offer him. It was in vain; the wretched, almost naked creature, still importuned him. At last he was told by him he supplicated, with some impatience at the tiresome and senseless perseverance, after this explanation, that so far from being able to bestow alms, he was himself, at that moment, in a situation to require assistance; actually, cold and damp as it was (November), compelled to remain at the water's edge till some friend came up who would frank him across the ferry. The man's quick bright eye surveyed the speaker with some doubt for a second; but upon a reiteration of Mr Mathews's assurance that he was detained against his will for want of a shilling, adding, that he was lame and unable to walk home from the other side of the ferry, or otherwise, he might leave his horse behind him as security, the beggar's face brightened up, and he exclaimed, Then, your honour, I'll lend you the money! It's all true,' eagerly interrupted the man; 'it's all true; I'm as poor as I said I was-divil the lie's in it. I'm begging my way back to my country, where I've friends; and there's a vessel ready, I'm tould, that sails from Swansea to-night. I've got some money, but I want more to pay my passage before I go, and I'm starving myself for that raison; but is it for me to see another worse off than mysilf, and deny him relafe? Your honour's lame; now, I've got my legs anyhow, and that's a comfort, sure!' Then, taking a dirty rag out of his pocket, and showing about two shillings' worth of coppers, he counted out twelvepence, and proffered them to Mr Mathews, who, willing to put the man's sincerity of intention to the proof, held out his hand for the money, at the same time inquiring, How, if I borrow this, shall I be able to return it? My house is some miles on the other side of the ferry, and you say you are in haste to proceed. I shall not be able to send a messenger back here for several hours, and you will then have sailed? Oh, thin, may be, when your honour meets another of my poor distrist countrymen, you'll pay him the twelvepenny; sure, it's the same in the end.' Mr Mathews was affected at the poor fellow's evident sincerity; but, desirous to put the matter to the fullest test, he thanked his ragged benefactor, and wished him a safe journey back to his country. The man took his leave with, Long life to your honour,' trudged off, and was soon out of sight. Mathews waited till his friends arrived, then rode after and repaid the borrowed money with interest; but it was only on producing good evidence of his prosperous condition, that the poor fellow could be prevailed on to take it."-Memoirs of Charles Mathews.

ANECDOTE OF MADAME MALIBRAN. One evening she felt rather annoyed at the general prejudice, expressed by the company then present, against all English vocal compositions, the opinion being altogether in favour of foreign music; some even going so far as to assert that nothing could be good of which the air was entirely and originally of English extraction. Malibran in vain endeavoured to maintain that all countries possess, though perhaps in a less equal degree, many ancient melodies, peculiarly their own; that nothing could exceed the beauty of the Scottish, Irish, Welsh, and even some of the old English airs. She then named many compositions of our best modern composers, Bishop, Barnett, Lee, Horn, &c.; declaring her belief, that if she were to produce one of Bishop's or Horn's ballads as the works of a Signor Vescovo, or Cuerno, thus Italianising and Espagnolising their names, they would faire furore. In the midst of this discussion she volunteered a new Spanish song, composed, as she said, by a Don ChocarShe commenced- the greatest attention prevailed; she touched the notes lightly, introducing variations on repeating the symphony, and with a serious feeling, though a slight smile might be traced on her lips, began:—

reria.

Maria trayga un caldero De aqua, Llama levante Maria pon tu caldero Ayamos nuestro te. She finished-the plaudits resounded, and the air was quoted as a further example how far superior foreign talent was to English. Malibran assented to the justice of their remarks, and agreed to yield still more to their argument, if the same air sung adagio should be found equally beautiful when played presto. The parties were agreed; when, to the positive consternation of all present, and very much to the diversion of Malibran herself, the Spanish melody, which she had so divinely sung, was, on being played quick, instantly recognised as a popular English nursery song, by no means of the highest class. Shall we shock our readers when we remind them that Maria trayga un caldero,

means literally, "Molly, put the kettle on !"-Memoirs of Madame Malibran.

LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W.S. ORR, Paternoster Row; and sold by all booksellers and newsmen.-Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars. Complete sets of the Journal are always to be had from the publishers or their agents; also, any odd numbers to complete sets. Persons requiring their volumes bound along with titlepages and contents, have only to give them into the hands of any bookseller, with orders to that effect.

NUMBER 431.

MALAGROWTHERING.

MALAGROWTHERING is a branch of a very important art-the art of ingeniously tormenting. It derives its name from Sir Mungo Malagrowther, an ancient Scottish gentleman described, in a certain veracious history entitled "the Fortunes of Nigel," as attending the court of James I. of England, where an uncouth visage, joined to lameness in one leg, and the want of three fingers of the right hand, made him a somewhat conspicuous figure. Sir Mungo had been brought up in the school of suffering, for, the king and he having been educated together, it was his duty to receive all the whippings due to his majesty for slovenly tasks and positive misdeeds, in addition to all those chastisements incurred by his own proper demerits; and he had thus contracted an irritability of spirit which clung to him through life, and caused him to feel pleasure only in the misfortunes and failings of his fellow-creatures. It was Sir Mungo's custom to go about amongst his friends for the purpose of gratifying this propensity of his nature, his personal deficiencies and the pity due to his poverty protecting him in most instances from the resentment which he rarely failed to inspire in every one with whom he conversed. An amusing scene will be re membered, in which he contrived, while walking arm in arm in the most friendly way with Lord Glenvarloch, to fill the heart of that youth with bitterness by allusions to certain rumours which were flying about respecting his lordship, as that he had become a gamester, that he was one who gamed safely and meanly for the sake of money, and much more to the like purpose. This was a remarkably fair specimen of the powers of Sir Mungo in inflicting a little torture in a friendly way.

Malagrowthering, however, was by no means invented by this venerable gentleman, but is an art of the remotest antiquity, albeit neither Goguet nor Beckmann makes any reference to it. We hold it likely that the population of the world was no sooner sufficient to maintain a dialogue, than Malagrowthering took its rise, seeing that it has a foundation in human nature itself, and only requires the requisite number of persons, a Malagrowtherer and a Malagrowtheree, to be called into exercise. Nor is this likelihood in the least diminished by the consideration that the first two who lived on earth were a married pair, but quite the contrary, a civil mode of mutual tormenting being extremely suitable to that condition in life. Ever since then, Malagrowthering has been a well-known and much bepractised art, although not recognised under any definite name till a comparatively recent period. We shall now proceed to consider the various rules and modes of the art, as exemplified in the practice of its greatest masters-and mistresses.

Tastes differ, notoriously, in all things, and in this amongst the rest; but it cannot be denied that it is a large and most respectable section of the ancient order of St Mungo who generally prefer, in their practice, the comparatively candid mode of torment called touching on the sore heel. We need scarcely explain that by this is meant making allusions to painful circumstances in the past lives or present situation of one's friends, always, of course, in a polite manner. Suppose, for instance, that your friend has committed some notedly imprudent or rash act in the course of his life, or at any time from any cause made himself a public laughing-stock, or is now suffering under some wound inflicted on his vanity or his fortune, all you have to do is to bring the conversation to that point, whatever it is, and enjoy the affected tranquillity with which he talks of it, all the time that you know his heart is burning within him. There is one great advantage

SATURDAY, MAY 2, 1840.

attending this mode of Malagrowthering, that it can be performed with an appearance of frankness extremely honourable to one's self. You may appear to fall in a good-humoured blundering way upon the subject, and keep up a good laugh all the time you converse about it. Then it looks downright, and maintains a character for openness, under favour of which you may in time become what is called a privileged person, and so be able to say all kinds of disagreeable things at all times to any body. This mode was the favourite one of Sir Mungo himself; a fact which should in itself go far to recommend it to all who rank themselves under his banner.

Less direct natures will generally prefer the next mode, which chiefly consists in acquainting one's friends with depreciatory opinions which are, or may be supposed to be, entertained of them by others. This mode may want some of the advantages of the candid plan, but it is safe and pleasant, and quite as effective. It calls, it is true, for a slight exercise of dissimulation, and occasionally even a little positive lying; there are also people who may think it shabby to invent them and lay them in the name of persons to report things said by others, and worse than shabby who never so much as dreamt of them. But all these are matters between one's self and one's conscience; and if the operator chooses to disregard them, we cannot well see what title any one else has to interfere. Besides, it is an acknowledged maxim amongst the honourable body of tormentors, that the end sanctions the means; and as their purpose is generally the laudable one of taking down pride, or the equally laudable one of letting the wind out of vanity, or perhaps the still more useful one of inspiring a little prudence into the brains of folly, why, we should suppose that, instead of blame, they deserve some public mark of approbation. We recollect, for instance, being ourselves much indebted to a lady Malagrowtherer, at a time when youthful vanity had persuaded us that we possessed a gift for the sacred art of poesy. This lady had the great kindness to inform us, that a certain gentleman of her acquaintance Had spoken of our verses as things which, at a maturer age, we should be ashamed to have written. It was a staggerer at the time, but we have since acknowledged that it did us good. So also do we remember this same lady effecting some considerable reformation in the external aspect of her friend Mrs Gayflower, by informing her of a remark which a certain gentleman had made upon her, to the effect that she was a handsome woman, but always greatly overdressed. If this simple remark did not cause Mrs Gayflower to lay aside a set of ostrich feathers, and put off some dozen yards of pink ribbons for three whole weeks, may we never again take pen in hand! Certain other persons were supposed to have been much obliged to our friend for the hints she gave them of what was generally said by the public respecting their style of life. This was a point on which she was apt to give herself rather more than the usual scope, for, not being in flourishing circumstances herself, she thought it unjust that the children of affluence should enjoy themselves immoderately. It is supposed that Mrs Girdwood, the rich brewer's wife, did not give any kind of party for a whole month, and that champagne was banished from her husband's dinner-table for the better part of a winter, in consequence of our friend having informed them one day, that there were some people in the world spiteful enough to say that they were straining to imitate the county gentlefolk, and that all their fine entertainments were only laughed at by those who attended them. So also it was generally believed that Mr and Mrs Dashwood laid down their britzka and two dun ponies, for no

PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.

other cause than her reporting the remark of a neighbour (whom she pretended in common with Mrs D. to hate very much), that it was really wonderful how the colonel's half-pay was made to go so far. A woman who exercised the gift in this way might rather be considered as an useful monitor or reformer than any thing else. Her object was to gratify the wish of the poet

Oh wad some power the giftie gie us,

To see oursels as others see us!

Startled by the images reflected in her mirror, people trembled and were corrected. Undoubtedly it would be for the good of mankind, if there were more persons, possessed of the same moral courage, and the disposition to exercise it in the same way, going about amongst them.

Genuine Malagrowtherers, particularly of the gentler sex, know another mode of using third parties with effect. Whenever they hear of any friend you have got, whether that friend be the faithful and kind associate of long bygone years, or only the acquaintance picked up at random a few weeks ago, they immediately set themselves to learn all they can to his disadvantage, which they take the first opportunity of reporting to you. This is a still safer mode than any of the preceding, for it is not so likely to excite sudden and high resentment as the attack upon one's self. It is, however, equally tormenting in its general effect. A man may have sufficient candour to listen quietly to a discourse calculated to set his friends in a low light-he may listen, and even assent; but in the long-run he feels himself degraded by his presumed connection with such persons. If he is a man of nice honour, he writhes to

hear that one whom he has invited to his house, and allowed to dance with his daughters, is thought by many to be a black-leg. If he is simply aristocratic in his feelings, he loathes the day on which he was prevailed upon by easy good nature to dine with one whom he now finds to be reputed as the son of a retired ship-chandler. If he be a generous and affectionate man, he is shocked to hear such sad stories of one whom he had long allowed himself to regard as a friend. A mercantile person will, on the other hand, be annoyed to be reminded of one of his most endeared associates who has lately become a bankrupt under unpleasant circumstances. One way or another, a Malagrowtherer of any tact may easily manage, by this mode, to give a considerable amount of pain. The treat is greatly heightened when the poor wretch makes a miserable attempt to deny the friends so much undervalued, or speaks of them as persons whom he has only met once or twice. To know that a real intimacy has subsisted, and to hear it thus explained away, while the twinged countenance betrays that the truth is not disguised within, must be a joy which only Malagrowtherers can fully appreciate.

Malagrowthering is an art, it may be said, of nice gradations. The touch on the sore heel is candid, but coarse. The reporting of what a third party has said is more refined, while equally efficacious and more safe. Then come the insinuations against friends, more refined still. Last, and finest policy of all, though perhaps too fine for all occasions, is that form of the art which consists in holding up a person's real or supposed faults to his own inspection, by frequent reference to these faults, either abstractly, or as exemplified in some third person, that person being real If, for instance, a lady has a young friend whom she or imaginary as may suit the pleasure of the artist. wishes to torment, but very covertly, so that there shall be no chance of the patient defending herself in an offensive way, all she has to do is to take up one of the young lady's faults, or some fault at least at

tributed to her, and harp upon that form of human error, with illustrative examples, for half an hour at a time, once in the morning, a second time in the middle of the day, and a third time in the evening, or perhaps oftener if there be opportunity, always taking care to keep upon hypothetical grounds, and never making the least approach to a direct charge. Where the patient chances to be a person of fine feelings, and considerable love of approbation, the pain inflicted is generally very great, for not only has she the sense of being held guilty of the fault, but she is deprived of all power to vindicate herself by denying or extenuating, seeing that to assume the lecture as intended for her own correction would at once

be to acknowledge the assumed guilt, besides implying that her counsellor was guilty of Malagrowthering. Here, also, the Malagrowtherer usually has a great additional enjoyment in witnessing the conduct of the patient under her knife. Her propositions are usually so very much in accordance with established maxims, as that pride is bad, and vanity much to be despised, that they cannot be denied. A whole lecture will be so sound in its morality, that the victim must assent to every word of it. The examples of the vice drawn from imagination or from real life will be so frightful, that every dash of the pencil must elicit a new exclamation of horror from the sufferer. Thus she is made, as it were, to sign and seal her own condemnation, and this she usually does with so many ill-concealed twistings and writhings, that even the Malagrowtherer herself, one would think, must sometimes be disposed, though only for a moment, to relent. Relenting, however, is a failing of which no true follower of Sir Mungo is ever guilty. Patients often run under their guns to ask quarter-that is, take the occult satire in good part, in the hope of being held free of the imputed error; but there is, to the best of our knowledge, no well-authenticated case of one of them being spared a single pang for all their submissiveness and good nature.

There is a variety of the first plan, which may be most properly introduced at this place. If your friend, for example, has met a severe loss through simplicity or imprudence, tell him how sorry you were to hear of it, how severe it must be upon him, and so forth. Do not forget, however, in the first place, to express incredulity as to the report, and then you will have the additional satisfaction of making him confess his error, and go over the whole recital of what evidently lowers him to the dust in his own esteem. Be sure not to be sparing in your expressions of pity, for pity humiliates its object, all the time that it looks so proper and even creditable in him who professes it. There is one variety of this department of the art which never fails of success. Every body has poor relations, and many have depraved ones. Nobody likes to hear of such persons in his own case. At the same time, it is held discreditable to disown or speak otherwise than kindly of them. Calculating these things, the same mistress of the art who has been above alluded to, made it her business to learn all about the humble kinsfolk of all her friends, before whom on proper occasions she would bring forward references to the unfortunate people in all sorts of plausible ways; stating that she had been applied to by one for a situation, and wishing to know her character; or that she had met another one day, a very old, infirm, and poor person, who had given her a tale of personal woes quite distressing to listen to; or perhaps it would be, that she lamented to see that wild young cousin of yours come back once more from America, to be a torment to his parents, and a vexation to the police, particularly after so much money had been spent on his last outfit. All this she used to manage under cover of such an earnestly friendly manner, that no one could shake her off or express positive offence, while a stranger hearing her for the first time would have been inclined to think her a woman who took an uncommon interest in the poor, and looked with eyes of Christian leniency on the wicked. Such, indeed, was the blandness of her style, that even the patient did not at the time (in most cases) feel his wounds. Usually, it was not till left to his own solitary reflections, that he discovered how severely he had been lacerated, and became aware how tremendous a power is that of the Malagrowtherer.

another. Or the Malagrowtherer may be simply disliked and avoided, which is the more likely and general consequence. But one consolation then remains, and we seriously recommend it to the attention of all regular performers, that such has been the fate of all who have endeavoured to chastise the follies and correct the morals of mankind since the beginning of the world.

PHYSICAL AGENTS AFFECTING MAN.

SECOND ARTICLE.

IN a recent number, some attention was devoted to the consideration of those physical agencies which exert an injurious influence on the well-being of the poorer classes of society in large cities, and which exist and operate independently in a great measure of their social condition and moral habits. The want or imperfection of sewers, the existence of stagnant pools and ditches, accumulations of vegetable and animal refuse, the improper state and position of slaughter-houses and burial-grounds, and the crowding together of buildings in courts and alleys, were pointed out as the chief causes, falling under the head just mentioned, which impair the health of those living in situations exposed to their influence. An attempt was also made to show in what manner and to what extent these evils were remediable. But there are other causes affecting to a greater extent the health and wellbeing of the same orders of society, and, consequently, still more deserving of attention. This second class of detrimental agencies is connected with the circumstances, habits, and modes of life of the poor in large communities. A pretty clear line of distinction is thus drawn between that branch of the subject for to devote the remainder of the present paper. merly considered, and the one to which we propose In the Report of Drs Arnott and Kay upon the causes of Fever in the British Metropolis, the following sources of disease, springing more or less from the habits of the poor, are enumerated -1. The state of the lodging-houses of mendicants and vagrants, and of a certain class of the Irish poor. 2. The crowded state of the dwelling-houses, which, in certain districts, contain several families under one roof. 3. The gross want of cleanliness of the person, dress, and habitations among certain classes of the poor. 4. The valence of intemperance. 5. The habit of dwelling in previously deserted houses, cellars, &c. 6. Keeping pigs, &c. in dwelling-houses. 7. Indisposition to be removed to the hospitals when infected with contagious disease. 8. The neglect of vaccination.

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the lower orders, in Edinburgh and Glasgow, mainly to destitution. The evidence which he brings forward in support of his views is strong and conclusive. We shall only allude to two impressive points in his statements, by way of convincing our readers of the justice of the opinions already expressed here. In the first place, it is found by Dr Alison, from an extensive observation of the history of epidemics, that they almost universally prevail with the greatest virulence after the occurrence of some catastrophe, spreading pecuniary and mental distress through the community in which they appear. Several great epidemics have raged in Ireland since 1700, each of them of nearly two years' duration. In 1740, a long and severe frost occurred, and was followed by a fearful epidemic. In 1799 and 1800, a scarcity (besides the insurrection) afflicted the land, and a two years' epidemic was the consequence. In 1816, another scarcity occurred, and this, along with the distresses attendant on the "tran sition from the war to peace," caused another terrible epidemic. In 1708, 1720, and 1731, similar events took place, with similar consequences. Now, it is natural that a frost or a searcity, accompanied by agricultural or commercial distress, should cut off many victims; but unless destitution promoted contagious diseases to a striking extent, why these regular, suecessive, and long-continued epidemics? In Edinburgh, while commerce flourished on the deceptive basis of the war-prices, the number of fever cases admitted annually to the Royal Infirmary, for twenty years, never exceeded 130. In the three years following 1816, when the war-bubble burst, they averaged 905 annually. Commerce regained its balance, and up to 1825, the admissions were fewer, but during the three years following the great failures of 1825, they rose to 1173 in the twelve months. After another interval of decrease, the admissions were raised by the new crisis of 1835, to 3270, on an average, in the years 1836, 1837, 1838. The increase of the population must be allowed for here, but, taking this fully into account, can any thing more strikingly exhibit the great influence of depression of circumstances, or destitution among the poor, in producing disease?

The first and second sources of disease, mentioned in the Report, are the "state of the lodging-houses of mendicants and vagrants," and the "crowded state of the private dwelling-houses of the poor in certain districts." The third cause mentioned, is the "uncleanliness of the poor in dress, person, and domicile." Without supposing any great change in the circumstances of the parties concerned, certainly these evils are capable of very considerable diminution. That they really exist, and in a deplorable degree, is placed by the Report beyond doubt, as regards London, and we fear that London is at least no worse than Glasgow, Edinburgh, and some other large cities, in these points. Small lodging-houses of two floors frequently contain from thirty to forty people each night, and these people, all of the lowest description, are taken in for their wretched pittance, whether sick or healthy, clean or dirty. Four or five beds are ranged around each small close room, and three or more persons usually sleep in each of these beds, all perhaps strangers to one another. What a scene such a house must

That this is an accurate and well-founded statement of the causes that more immediately operate in producing disease among the lower orders of large communities, can scarcely be denied. Yet, assuredly, these are but the proximate or secondary causes. To what is the crowded state of the lodging-houses, as well as of the private dwellings of the lower orders, fundamentally owing? To the destitute state of those who frequent and inhabit them-to their inability to pay for and maintain better places of abode. Again, destitution, if it does not directly and entirely take away from those subjected to it the power and means of being cleanly in person, dress, and dwelling, takes present by night! And yet it is a common one in away at least the spirit and anxiety to be so; they the low lodging-houses of London. The consequence have not the heart to bestir themselves for the pre- is, that " during the whole year, disease, or fever, never servation of this minor source of comfort and health, leaves these places." In a small cluster of such lodgwhile suffering under the heavier inflictions of indi-ing-houses, called Mill's Lane, the attending surgeon gence and want. A starving family cannot whitewash visited, according to his own statement, "eighty-two walls, or brush the dirt from rags. As to intemper- cases of fever in the year ending March last." The ance, it is scarcely possible for human beings, in a private dwellings of many of the poor are scarcely less state of destitution, to resist the temptation to drown crowded. care in intoxication, whenever an opportunity occurs. As to want of cleanliness in point of dress, person, The habit of dwelling in deserted houses, and of keep- and habitation, the Report gives us a melancholy ing pigs, &c., in human habitations, is plainly referable, picture of the poor in London. Other places are in a great measure, to the same primary cause; and even worse in this respect. The evil of uncleanlithere can be little doubt, moreover, that the unwilling- ness is a more serious one than is commonly imaness to enter hospitals, and to have children vaccinated, gined. It was formerly mentioned, upon Dr Southis attributable, to a considerable extent, and in the majo-wood Smith's authority, that when a portion of rity of cases, to that spirit of reckless negligence which atmospheric air, loaded with putrescent exhalations, is generated by the constant pressure of the actual was analytically examined, a poison was found mixed evils of indigence, and which cannot but lead those with it, of so deadly a nature, that, when injected into exposed to them to care but little for evils that are the veins of animals, it produced fever and death. only possible and prospective. Now, what do uncleanly houses contain, or what do individuals uncleanly in person and dress bear about with them, but the refuse of animal and vegetable matter? From the walls of their habitations, and from their own bodies, their lungs must be perpetually inhaling that vitiated effluvium which actual experiment has shown to be a baneful poison, capable of producing, according to its degree of intensity, all varieties of fever, from the slightest species of it to the fatal yellow fever of the tropics. The cleanliness of individual persons, and more especially of individual houses, is obviously of nearly as much consequence to a large community, as the general cleanliness of a district, its courts, streets, and lanes.

The Report on the Fevers of London suggests the following steps for securing the cleanliness of lodginghouses, and the dwellings of the poor generally. A SaThese latter remarks were in some measure antici- natory Board of Guardians exists in that city, and the pated in a recent article, in this periodical, on the Report proposes to give to the Board sufficient powers subject of the general Management of the Poor, to accomplish the following enda, at the public expense: which had it in view to consider the propriety of mak--1. "To direct the removal of accumulations of filth ing stated provision for that class, wherever they had from houses, the yards of dwelling-houses, &c., whenit not already. As one argument for the establish- ever two medical officers certified in writing that the ment of such provision, it was there mentioned that state of such places was likely to prove injurious to Dr Alison, in his late able pamphlet upon the state of the health of the neighbourhood. 2. To cause from the poor in Scotland, traces the fevers and diseases of time to time an inspection of the lodging-houses at