the result. Who can say that he may not, ere many years pass over his head, require the servicos of such an institution? It is to those, certainly, who know not the comforts of a family circle, and of friends around them, that a Sanatorium seems to hold out direct prospects of advantage; but those who possess these blessings may one day have them not, and may be glad to have that substitutive help in distress, which the establishments under consideration are so well calculated to afford.

AN INCIDENT IN THE CAREER OF A
COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER.

IN Egypt, at the present day, and in various other eastern countries recently opened up by the increase

of steam-navigation, an assimilation is rapidly taking place between the customs of the west and the east. In past times these have remained almost entirely isolated and distinct, the intercourse between the different climes not being of such a nature as to cause an amalgamation between their habitudes, at least to any great extent. But, now-a-days, commercial travellers pass as regularly between London and Alexandria as between London and Hamburgh, or Glasgow and Manchester; and the consequence is, that fashions and manufactures are flowing from the west into the east in great abundance and with great rapidity, promising soon to create new and powerful ties between regions and races hitherto really little known to one another. The end of all this cannot but be for good; but long-existing prejudices cause this incipient intercourse to be sometimes attended by a degree of effervescence, such as accompanies the union of different chemical elements. From inattention to the peculiar prepossessions of their oriental customers, commercial men from Europe, and especially those of a bustling and officious order, frequently get themselves into odd scrapes, and scrapes not unattended with danger.

A traveller from Paris, named Bonnard, a brisk stirring fellow, who rejoiced in the office of agent for a distinguished depôt of male and female fashions in dress, conveyed himself not long since to Alexandria, with a large assortment of rich articles of attire, which he proposed to dispose of to the lords and ladies of Egypt, but more particularly to the ladies. Through dint of activity and perseverance, he was successful beyond his hopes. The Mussulman aristocracy are eminently accessible. The meanest water-carrier of the Alexandrian streets may present himself to Mehemet Ali in person, and make a verbal appeal, or deliver a petition, just as used to be the case in the days of Haroun Alraschid. The eastern nobility imitate this regal fashion; and hence Bonnard, while in Alexandria, found it not very difficult to obtain a hearing from the great men of the city, and to lay before them specimens of his rich goods, which led to extensive purchases by these pachas and beys, for the decoration of the invisible ladies of their respective

households.

self pretty intelligible. He started in praise of his stock of goods; Abdallah nodded. The traveller spoke more; still Abdallah nodded. But Bonnard was anxious to bring things to a bearing, and, remembering only his Parisian politeness, he got out with the words-intended to call an important personage to the mind of the Egyptian, and so to stimulate to a purchase, " And how does madame ?-your lady?" The words, simple as they were, acted like an electric shock on Abdallah-Pacha. His lately calm countenance was instantly flushed with passion, and then distorted by its subsequent workings. His hands grasped the cushions of the divan as if he would rend them in pieces, and he commenced to pour forth a torrent of objurgations, few of which were intelligible to Bonnard, though he could not mistake their general tenor and meaning. Yet, though he grew pale, the

Frenchman preserved his unchangeable, indestructible smile. When Abdallah seemed to have nearly exhausted himself, Bonnard observed, with a tone in which only a slight falter was apparent, "I have unintentionally said something wrong."

"To ask me how does my wife? By the beard of the prophet," said the still boiling Abdallah, "if I did not respect the claims of hospitality! How come you to know my wife? Unless you had acquaintance with her, you would not ask for her."

"Pardon me, my lord," said Bonnard; "it is the custom of my country."

"It is a monstrous and offensive custom," said Abdallah. The little Frenchman faltered, and simpered, and bowed, and explained; but all would not do. He had touched on the tender point in the eastern's jealous nature; and although his inquiry would have been held as one but of common courtesy in the west, it had the effect, particularly as coming from the lips of a stranger, of jarring on all the prejudices, both national and personal, of AbdallahPacha. Still the latter was not an illiberal man in his way; and becoming partly convinced, perhaps, that he had made a mistake, he contented himself by dismissing Bonnard for the time only. "I cannot examine any thing to-day," said he, passing his hand over his yet ruffled brow; "come back to-morrow. Farewell."

This sounded as a peremptory order for departure, and Bonnard obeyed it. As he left the house, however, he accidentally met with a female, whom he recognised as a Maltese, a person who was employed in retailing articles of dress about the households of Cairo. Anxious to get off his stock, it struck the Parisian that it would be a good scheme to give this woman one of his "Journals of the Fashions," that she might place it in the hands of Abdallah's beautiful lady. The thing was easily managed. A slight douceur being laid upon her palm, the Maltese took upon her at once the proposed commission.

Little did poor Bonnard imagine, as he moved off with renovated spirits to his place of lodgement-confident that the sight of the magnificent figures adorning his Journal must tempt Abdallah's lady into an order of immense magnitude-little thought the dapper Parisian that he had prepared the way for the outburst of a storm, likely to involve not only himself, but others also, in ruin and destruction! Abdallah, after smoking himself into something like composure, went to the apartments of his beautiful spouse, whom he really loved tenderly. She was seated with her damsels, busily engaged in discussing the mysteries of the toilette. Abdallah approached. His eye lighted on a book, covered with splendid figures. Ile snatched it up, and turned over the leaves. One figure arrested his attention, and in an instant his brow became again black with the passionate blood of the east. Unlucky Bonnard! In the Journal given to the Maltese, there was one portraiture of the "masculine form divine." It was the one by which Bonnard dressed himself. In every particular he copied this great original, from the cut of the collar to the bootstraps. It is well known that these model-figures are like every body and like nobody; or, in other words, as like one man as they are like another; but it chanced that this particular figure was very like Bonnard, as regarded colour of hair, complexion, and every other point, as well as in the dress. AbdallahPacha gazed at it as if he had seen a boa-constrictor in his path. His suspicions were re-awakened, and roused to a boiling torrent. He could not doubt but that the Frenchman had formed an acquaintance with his wife, and had presented her with his portrait. It may be guessed what an impression such a belief would make on the fiery and jealous nature of Abdallah. We shall not attempt further to describe it, but will proceed to mention the consequences to which it led. Repulsing his trembling lady, who saw that something was amiss, and who sought to soothe and to explain, Abdallah burst from the apartment where he had found the proof, as he thought it, of his wrongs, and retired to his own chamber to meditate schemes of vengeance.

On moving from Alexandria to Cairo, Bonnard learnt that in the latter city there resided a certain Abdallah-Pacha, a wealthy and powerful lord, who had recently married a most beautiful lady, and one of whom he was devotedly fond. Bonnard immediately resolved to make prize of Abdallah-Pacha, and found no difficulty, accordingly, in making his way into the presence of the eastern grandee. He found Abdallah sitting in luxurious ease upon a divan, alone, in a large saloon, and smoking with most oriental languor and enjoyment. Servants were present, but not a whisper or footfall could be heard. All were dumbly attentive to the looks and signs that came, or might come, from their master, who was a man in the prime of life, with finely cut features and head, a long beard of glossy black, and eyes that sparkled like carbuncles. The contrast between this grave, awe-striking personage, and the dapper lively mortal who now intruded on his luxurious repose, was most remarkable, as regarded appearance, and every other point. Bonnard was a thorough Frenchman, firmly impressed with the belief that all that was done at Paris was right, and that all that was done elsewhere, if done differently, must be and was indisputably wrong. Ile dressed precisely in the manner of the lay figures adorning his own depôt, or the pages of the "Journals of the Fashions," which he carried about with him in the exercise of his calling. Such was the person, curled, essenced, strapped, and starched, in the newest Parisian mode, who now approached Abdallah with the same graceful unembarrassed sidle which he might have displayed in accosting an old college chum. Scarcely waiting for the permissory nod of the master of the house, Bonnard, withdrawing his hat from its elegant position in front of his breast, sat down on the divan, close by Abdallah's side. The Egyptian looked on him with much the same feelings as those with which a noble stag-hound might be expected to regard the approach of a lady's lap-dog; namely, with a sort of grave and lordly surprise, but without displeasure. Indeed, it is known that the orientals feel the easy After a long interval of moody reflection, during address of Europeans as a relief, when compared with which he sat with the hated portrait before him, their own formal and tedious salutations. Such were Abdallah called his blacks, the passive instruments of the circumstances attending the meeting of the power- eastern vengeance. He told them that two victims ful Mussulman with the Parisian fancy-agent. wore to be sacrificed; but when he attempted to name Bonnard was no sooner seated, than he rubbed his them, he found that the words would not pass his hands, and unfolded his sample-stores, eager for a cus- lips. He loved his wife, it has been said, most detomer. By the help of a little smattering of Turkish votedly, and had hitherto never doubted of her conand Arabic, in addition to his fluent French, which is stancy. All that he could say to the blacks was, partly understood in Egypt, Bonnard could make him-To-morrow, I will point out the victims to you!"

16

Here," said he at length, turning to the blacks behind him, and giving them the unlucky Journal, "this is what you shall throw into the Nile!"

The words startled Bonnard, but Abdallah continued, addressing him, " Bring your whole goods hither, and I will buy them at your own price."

Bonnard received a lesson from this incident, and so may every commercial man who goes to the east. Let them beware of jarring on the prejudices of those whose custom they seek.

OCCASIONAL NOTES.

ODDITIES OF GREAT MEN.

circumstances, which have no apparent connection The greatest men are often affected by the most trivial with the effects they produce. An old gentleman, of whom we knew something, felt secure against the cramp, when he placed his shoes, on going to bed, so that the right shoe was on the left of the left shoe, and the toe of the right next to the heel of the left. If he did not bring the right shoe round the other side in that way, he was liable to the cramp. Dr Johnson used always, in going up Bolt Court, to put he felt certain the day would be unlucky. Buffon, one foot upon each stone of the pavement; if he failed, the celebrated naturalist, never wrote but in full dress. Dr Routh, of Oxford, studied in full canonicals. An eminent living writer can never compose without his slippers on. A celebrated preacher of the last century could never make a sermon with his garters on. A great German scholar writes with his braces off. Reisig, the German critic, wrote his commentaries on Sophocles with a pot of porter by his side. Schbyel lectures, at the age of seventy-two, extempore in Latin, with his snuff-box constantly in his hand; without it he could not get on.

ASKING OPINIONS ON ONE'S OWN WORKS.

Every one who asks you your opinion on his book, does it in the spirit of the artist who invited a friend to look at a picture which he had lately completed, and said, "Here, what do you think of this? So-andso was here the other day, and said he didn't like it, and I knocked him down stairs. Now, tell me your candid opinion." What is a man to say under such circumstances? Martial, in sending an invitation to a friend to come and visit him, after telling him what he will do for him, adds, Nay, more, I'll read you nothing."

IMPLIED INSULT.

To ask a person whom he considers to be the greatest man in any department in which he thinks himself a proficient, is the sure way to offend him. Every one knows the story of Parr being asked who was the first Greek scholar in England, and saying that Porson was the first, Burney the third, and he would leave the inquirer to judge who was the second.

When Schbyel was in England a few years ago, and was entertained at one of the large club-houses, the conversation turned one day after dinner on the poets of Germany. Goethe's death had just been announced, and Schiller had died many years before; and one gentleman who was present accordingly asked Schbyel, in allusion to the death of Goethe, "What poets have you left now?" Schbyel, with indignant pride, and that vanity which it is so difficult for him to conceal even from a stranger, rose from his seat, and, drawing himself up to his full height, said, Ich bin eic dichter. ["I am a poet."]

bush with your pole, where the man lieth concealed with the ducks, who must cast forth one of them, to the end the hawk may think it was put up by you; and if with a courage she takes it, reward her well; and this is the way to train up a goshawk to catch a fowl at souce. Having trained your hawk to this, you may boldly go with her to the ponds where the fowl lies, and creeping close to the place, raise them up by beating about with your pole; and when any rise, let go your hawk from your fist, and if she seize it, let her take pleasure thereon, and reward her well. It is very necessary to have a spaniel with you; for if the hawk is well acquainted with the sport, she will be so nimble at the catch, that they will fall into the water together, and by that means the fowl may go to plunge, so that then the spaniel will be ready to do good service, and not displease the hawk. It is when your hawk will fly, jump, and come in at your lure, it is to further manage your flight, observe these directhen that she is fit to go to the river in earnest; and tions. When you have found where the fowl lies, then go about a quarter of a mile up in the wind to the river side, and whistle off your hawks, loosing their hoods, and let them fly with their heads in the wind, for there must be a cast of hawks for this flight; then let the falconers, or others that are at the sport, strike their poles in the water, to cause the hawks to come in unto you, and own the river; and when they are got up into their places, then let one of the falconers go below the fowl, that is, down the river; and the other that is above, let him come down, and show the fowl again, and by that means the fowl will be crost over land, that the hawks may make a fair stooping; and knocking the fowl on the land, will occasion the killing it, which will quarry your hawks. But if they should miss their stooping, so as the fowl may get to the river again, then your hawks must go to their wings to make good their flight; but if the fowl should go to plunge, then take down your hawks, lest you should fly them too long; and the falconers, with their spears or poles, may endeavour to spear or kill the fowl, which take to quarry the hawks with. If they kill not the fowl at first stooping, give them respite to recover their place; and when they are at their place again, and their heads in, lay out the fowl as before directed, and reward them well if they kill. You should do well to have a live duck in your hawking-bag, that if they kill not the fowl which is stooped (as ofttimes it happens), then your hawks being at their pitch, and their heads in, you may throw to your hawks and reward them; and by this means you shall always keep your hawks in good life and blood, and to

be inwards."

Laying out of view entirely the partial revival of the sport in modern times, it may be said that falconry is, and must ever remain, a living thing amongst us, in consequence of there being so many references to it in literature, and its terms being so largely received into our common language. Dante, Chaucer, Spencer, and Shakspeare, to say nothing of many meaner names, abound in allusions to this sport of the noble and princely, and in images derived from the falconer's craft. One of the most affecting stories in Boccaccio is that of the reduced gentleman, who long wooed a lady unsuccessfully, and at length on her visiting him, having no other means of entertaining her, gallantly sacrificed his falcon for her meal, and thereby, though without design, gained her affections. The idea in Othello's exclamation respecting the suspected Desdemona

I'll whistle her off, and let her down the wind,
To prey at fortune-

place where the birds retained by the English monarch were put on those occasions, near his palace, was called the King's Mews. The buildings for the hawks were in time supplanted by stables for the royal stud, but still the name of King's Mews or Meuse was retained. This has in time spread to stable-lanes, as already mentioned, all over the kingdom.

SANATORIUMS.

THE term Sanatorium, which is nearly synonymous with the French Maison de Santé, or House of Health, has been suggested as the title for an Hospital-Establishment of a peculiar order, lately proposed to be set on foot in London. The objects of this institution seem to us of so commendable a character as to claim some notice at our hands, and we give it with the addressed to the very classes of society chiefly integreater willingness, as our pages are more particularly rested in the subject, and may be the means of calling their attention to it more readily and extensively. The Sanatorium is intended to be, in some measure, a private hospital, calculated for the benefit of many individuals of the middle and lower classes of society, who, when labouring under disease, are unwilling to resort for relief to an ordinary medical charity, yet are not so circumstanced as to be able to pay for medicines, and to procure the attendance of physicians and nurses at home-at least, in a manner suitable to their ailments. In short, the proposal is, to give to every such person, through the advantages of combination, the amplest and best means of relief under bodily distress, at the lowest possible rate of cost, without rendering them debtors to public charity,

as in the case of common hospitals. It appears to us that there is a large section of society, which establishments of this order are calculated to benefit extensively and lastingly. Mechanics and working men of every description, and all who fill the humbler departments in offices, shops, and warehouses-especially where they are unmarried and live in lodgings-together with all domestic servants of the more respectable class, who usually are compelled to leave their places of service when attacked by serious diseases these, and many similarly situated parties, must be again and again thrown into the deepest distress by the want of such institutions as the one now proposed. On the other hand, there is an equally large class of individuals, not residing in cities, to whom such institutions would also be of the highest benefit. There are numerous persons, in rural situations, afflicted with diseases of a chronic kind, such as old ulcers, eruptions, tumours, and the like, who might be relieved by the superior medical advice to be got in cities, but who cannot make up their minds to enter a common hospital as objects of charity, or to risk the expense attending a residence in private lodgings under the charge of proper nurses and proper medical attendants. They are in decent enough circumstances to shrink from the first of these alternatives, yet too poor to venture on the second step. Small farmers, and respectable tradesmen, with their wives and families, as well as servants and others who have laid up a little money, are the parties usually placed in this dilemma,

flight.

What! all my pretty ones-all At one fell siroop ?—

the frantic inquiry of Macduff-is from the act of the bird itself in descending upon its prey. Milton speaks of "imping his wing" to a bolder flight. Imping is the technical term for the process of mending a broken feather in the wing of the hawk; the process itself consisting in splicing, as the sailors would say, a new feather to the stump of the old one, with a needle passing through both at the juncture, and holding the two pieces together. Knowing this, the reader will understand Sir Philip Sidney, when he speaks in his sonnets in praise of Edward IV:

Not for his fair outside, nor well-lined brain, Although less gifts imp feathers oft on Fame. "Hood-winked," a familiar phrase for one who walks in any kind of mental darkness, is from the practice of keeping hawks hooded till they were ready to fly. We speak of "flying at higher game," from a traditionary notion of hawking. The term hawker, expressive of a travelling merchant or pedlar, is probably derived from the old custom of carrying about hawks for sale. These men carried the birds upon a frame slung from their shoulders, and termed a cadge: hence cadger, another but comparatively local term for an itinerant dealer. Most curious of all is the term musket, which seems to have been derived from the technical name for the male sparrow-hawk, on the same principle which was followed in calling pieces of ordnance in the sixteenth century by such names as the Great Falcon, Thrawn-mou❜ed Meg, and so forth. Another strange memorial of falconry is found in the term, now common in our large cities, for a lane of stables running behind a street. The birds employed in the sport annually mewed, or changed their feathers. The

sequence.

Their existence itself is in many cases shortened by the same cause. To these persons the Sanatorium would be an institution of the highest value. They would there enjoy, for the least possible cost, the best possible tendance and advice, and would neither, on the one hand, have their honest pride hurt by the sense of accepting eleemosynary relief, nor be alarmed, on the other, by fears of incurring debt, or draining the scanty resources of their families for a personal end.

So much for the principle of the Sanatorium, which seems much the same as that which leads gentlemen to form club-houses; union lessening cost to individuals. Sanatory institutions, based on this leading principle, appear to us likely to do much good in every great seat of population. The details of the plan may differ in different places, and will do so, it is probable, if the idea be adopted to any great extent. The following are the leading features in the scheme of the London Sanatorium, projected, we believe, by Dr Southwood Smith, a gentleman who has won an honourable reputation by his excellent work on human physiology. A payment of about two guineas a-week made by each patient, insures to him bed, board, and medicine; the attendance of skilful physicians and nurses; the use of a separate room if requisite; with baths, quiet, pure air, and all the curative means and appliances which science has provided in aid of medicine. To collect a fund of L.3000 wherewith to commence operations, life-subscriptions, of ten guineas each, and yearly subscriptions of one guinea, have been proposed and opened, the subscribers in such cases being privileged not only to share the advantages of the institution at a lower rate of cost, but to recommend non-subscribers as inmates. It is only a few months since the idea of the institution was first started, but the subscriptions, and particularly

the annual ones of a guinea, are already numerous, and there is every prospect of the requisite sum being soon made up, and the building got ready. As for medical attendance, it seems to be arranged that one resident medical officer shall take the general charge of the house, assisted by others who are to act as visiting physicians.

We trust that this establishment will go on and prosper. But we have now to present a claim for the Scottish capital, as having had the merit of leading the way in this particular path of sanatory policy. In 1837, a private hospital was opened at Minto House, Argyle Square, Edinburgh, the leading principle of which is identical with that of the London Sanatorium, as will appear from the words of the original Report. "It is intended for the benefit of a numerous class of individuals, who, when labouring under disease, are unwilling to be considered_objects lodgers, when affected with ill health, cannot, in their of charity, and to enter a public hospital. It must frequently happen that housekeepers, servants, and peculiar circumstances, obtain all the attention and comfort they require. In many cases it is particularly inconvenient for the masters or friends with dation, professional attendance, medicines, and nurs whom they reside, to afford them suitable accommoing; and to them, therefore, the advantage of a maison de santé, to which recourse may be had, must be apparent. In such an institution the patients enjoy the seclusion of a home; and as something is paid for the would arise from being treated entirely as objects of services of which they stand in need, the feelings which charity are removed." The same Report then points out several of the advantages likely to accrue to country patients from such an institution, with other circumstances rendering it worthy of public notice ; and mentions that the charge for board, lodging, medical attendance, and nursing, was to vary from 10s. to 20s. per week.

Three regular medical officers, Drs Peddie, Brown, and Cornwall, aided by the valuable services of Professor Syme, in the capacity of consulting surgeon, House, where it was commenced, had formerly been took the management of this private hospital. Minto a surgical hospital, and is a building of no great extent, yet airy and commodious. As the originators did not possess the advantage of large subscriptions to establish their Sanatorium on a very extensive scale, the number of patients received and treated by them has not been, on an average, above fifty or sixty annually. This may seem a comparatively limited amount of practice, but it must be remembered that only eight or nine patients can be received into the house at one time, and that many of them, being afflicted with diseases of long standing, occupy the rooms for a considerable period. With regard to the description of persons thus relieved, we are told that they consisted of the class for whose benefit "the institution was principally intended, such as strangers from the country, individuals in reduced circumstances, clerks, shopmen, the upper class of servants, &c. Of the cases coming under treatment, many have been highly important and interesting in a medical point of view, and several requiring the performance of severe surgical operations." The Report for last year also states that "patients have lately come from great distances, and that the hospital has met with countenance from families in the higher circles in town, from commercial houses in which boarders are kept, and from hotel and lodging-house keepers, who have placed under our care valued servants and others." The medical managers conclude, from their past experience, that, as the institution becomes more widely known, the number of admissions will progressively increase.

It is but just, therefore, to the gentlemen now mentioned-who have for three years sustained this Sanatorium by gratuitous labours of no common extent, as well as kept up a large out-of-door and dispensary practice, by which no fewer than 5611 poor persons were relieved during last year-to state that they have the merit of having given a fair trial to the scheme now about to be carried into operation in London. It is true that the trial has been made on a comparatively small scale, yet the public have it in their power, by increased support, to extend the advantages and sphere of usefulness of the institution. It is excellent as far as it goes, and has nurses, medical attendants, and other conveniences suitable for its extent; the patients are treated as if they were in their several homes, and, according to their wishes and means, are provided with single rooms, or have the comfort (which most of them are found to like) of the company of others of their own sex during their confinement; scales of comfortable diet are arranged for them, in accordance with their wants and their maladies; and, in short, the establishment is conducted with great liberality, judgment, and care. But Edinburgh and its neighbourhood, if fully alive to the advantages of such an institution, would support its managers more generously, and enable them to work on a scale of increased utility. This might be done, to a certain extent, by patients themselves taking advantage of the opportunities which the institution, as it is, affords; but if the public were to come forward at the annual meetings of the supporters of the dispensary and general establishment of Minto House, and to strengthen the hands of its managers by their support, something still more worthy of the capital of Scotland, in the shape of a Sanatorium, might be

strength and courage to all of us, for I trembled lest the prisoner should suffer from the excess of his emotion. About two o'clock, a postchaise appeared in sight. I called to my cousin, although scarcely able to speak. Look! a tall man is getting out of the carriage. It is he, I am certain: Alexander, answer me!' A face, pale and emaciated, turned and raised its eyes towards me on hearing my voice. I could not contain a cry of sorrow. It is he; but how could I have recognised him! And I fell on a seat, and could not find strength or speech. My cousin rushed towards the staircase before I was able to stand. He returned leading and supporting my unfortunate brother, who threw himself into my arms, repeating only, with sobs, Old-old-dead there without you! More than an hour elapsed before we could recover from our agitation. Nothing had prepared me to see him thus-dying, presenting the appearance of an old man by his bent figure, and his cadaverous complexion."

We cannot help adding a few words more. Indeed, it is in some measure imperative upon us to do so, seeing that, in our article upon Andryane's narrative of 1837, we expressed our pleasure at the promulgation, about that period, of an act of amnesty, "recalling the political exiles of Italy, and giving freedom to all who remained in durance." This was a mistake. A few "young men of family" were then permitted to return from banishment by the successor of the Emperor Francis, but these were merely fugitives, against whom no specific sentence had been passed. Those who had actually undergone conviction" for having done or said any thing, however trifling, against the sovereign or his government, are still left lingering by hundreds in Hungarian fortresses, or in exile." The amnesty, so muchi boasted of by the partisans of Austria, proved but "a fraud (says Signor Prandi) to obtain a good reception for the new Emperor Ferdinand on his visit to Italy." The system of things, therefore, described by Andryane and Pellico, still exists, and to Ferdinand may be applied the words used in reference to his father by a British reviewer of Pellico's narrative. "Have his ministers and courtiers allowed the Austrian sovereign to be enlightened as well as saddened by the sight of these high-minded and deeply affecting Memoirs? Does he know the merit, the goodness, the piety, of which he has been made the jailor? Has he been enabled to measure the full extent of the barbarous injuries of which God will one day make himself the avenger? Are his dreams never haunted by the vision of the scholars and gentlemen of Italy, working in prison-clothes in their Moravian dungeon, bent down by chains under whose weight they are unable to walk, and the pressure of which will not let them sleep, sickening at the smell of food so uneatable that the famished cannot taste it, fainting under the indirect assassination of a sunless at

Miss Clinkscales, Miss Cogle, and Miss Bogle, and twenty other misses, to whom the reader can have no desire to be introduced. And of the gentlemen who liked a good pennyworth of what was going, and had come in for a share of the tea-drinking, there was Captain Stark, the coal-agent; Mr Sprot, the ringer of the music-bells; and Mr Burns, the sub-collector of government assessments; Mr Drew, the dentist; Mr Ballantyne, a student of divinity; Mr Piper, an accountant's clerk, an inmate of the house, who lodged in one of Mrs Wildgoose's attics; Lieutenant Darling, a lean elderly gentleman, with a nose in full blossom, who lived upon his money; and Mr Macintosh, a solicitor before the supreme court. And this is but a trifling fraction of the living mass which squeezed into Mrs Wildgoose's public rooms, between the hours of nine and eleven.

between tea and supper. The younger and more agile The guests amused themselves in various ways part of the company danced up stairs in the drawingroom to Miss Cogle's music, till they were like to drop down themselves, and to break down the ceiling of the room beneath; and in a little space left in a corner, stood a card-table, where Mrs Wildgoose and Captain Stark, Mr Macintosh and Miss Meek, contended for victory at a game which should have been whist, but, in condescension to Miss Meek's capacity, was only

catch-the-ten.

During these agreeable proceedings above stairs, the lieutenant, and the sub-collector of the king's taxes, and the ringer of the music-bells, were settling the affairs of the nation in a parlour below, over a tumbler of rum and whisky punch; while the clerk of the attic, the student of divinity, the dentist, and a few other kindred spirits who had joined their company, also in the parlour, together with a bevy of young girls, who liked other fun better than dancing, played at fortune-telling, conversation-cards, and forfeits, which latter were redeemed by many ingenious and novel inventions, besides the long kiss in the corner, and the spelling of opportunity behind the door.

In the course of time it became necessary to desist from all these harmless sports, namely, when the performers were tired of them, and when the piano strings were starting, and its notes rendered dumb by Miss Cogle's indefatigable thumping, and the company both above and below rendered deaf with the noise of the

Her hostess found her out, and she hastily dried her tears and tried to appear unconcerned, and she was dragged down to the room below, and there was a Captain Stark clapped her heartily on the shoulder, general shout of joy when she made her appearance. and, with a familiar wink, asked her if she had been taking a snooze? The solicitor before the supreme court helped her to a chair; and the lieutenant with the blooming nose gave her arm a gentle pinch in passing, and proposed a bumper to her restoration as queen of the company.

Hip, hip, hip, hurra! hurra! roared all the men, starting on their feet and flourishing their glasses; and the din and roaring were like to rend the walls with the noise, and like to faint with terror and of the apartment, and Margaret sank down upon the seat which was set for her, pale as death, and stunned dismay.

You must return thanks for that,' cried Mr Burns, the gatherer of the window-light assessment and house duty.

You must make a speech,' cried Mr Herdman, a tall, swarthy, strong-built man, with a loud voice, whose appearance very much suggested the idea of a huge quadruped on its hind legs. This was a gentleman who took a lead on the occasion, and was acting at one end of the table, on which were the bottles and glasses, as master of the ceremonies, over a jug of punch-royal, and he was also at times the buffoon of the company.

The queen deputes you to make a speech for her,' cried Mr Drew, the dentist.

་

'Does your majesty depute me?' roared Mr Herdman, who had much ado to make himself to be heard amid the confusion of tongues. Does your majesty depute me?' vociferated he a second time, while Margaret sat speechless and shaking, with a glass of hot negus which the solicitor had put into her hand.

Yes, yes, don't you hear? Yes,' cried the lientenant. Don't you know, man, that silence is consent ?'

And without more ado, Mr Herdman rose up, and began his speech forthwith.

By the permission and special commission,' said he, Ilere a boisterous peal of laughter from all the com"of her most gracious majesty, Queen Margaret' pany, with clapping of hands, broke in upon Mr Herd man's oration.

I am hereby,' roared he, in a voice which got above the other din, I am hereby deputed, appointed, and commanded, to notify and propound to you her liege and pleasure regarding-regarding that is to say concerning-concerning-I say'

heart's longings after friends to whom they may never write, after parents from whom and of whom they must never hear; supporting each other by manly and religious hopes against desperate temptations to self destruction; the objects of silent and tremulous compassion to even the lowest ministers of abused justice; to all but to him who alone had the power of relieving

them ?"

A NOVEL.

"INGLISTON" is a novel, in one volume,* chiefly devoted to the history of a young female, the natural daughter of a Scottish baronet, and a person of the finest bodily and mental qualities, but in whom all is rendered nugatory for her own happiness by the awkwardness of her social position. Miss Margaret Inglis, as the heroine is named, is by accident thrown for a

time into the charge of Mrs Wildgoose, an elderly

female of dubious character and intense vulgarity, who occupies a house in Edinburgh, part of which she lets as business chambers to a writer to the signet, and part as furnished lodgings. Here a tea and supper party, given for Miss Inglis's amusement, affords the author an opportunity of introducing a scene of broad humour, which many will recognise as but slightly a caricature of real life. The best parts of this scene are as follows :—

"The ladies of the party, with a very thin sprinkling of gentlemen, arrived at seven to tea and coffee; and Mrs Wildgoose introduced, in an especial manner, to all and each of them, 'her particular friend from the country, Miss Inglis of Ingliston, daughter of the

late Sir Norman Inglis; and Margaret had to go through the ceremony of shaking hands with the whole of the guests, male and female.

There were the Miss Shorts, and the Miss Blythes, the Miss Brocks, and the Miss Brownlees, four families of sisters, consisting of three each; and their brothers were expected, when they shut their shops, or left their counting-rooms. There was Miss Meek, Miss Bow, and Miss Bendy, Miss Gowanlock, and

*Ingliston. By Grace Webster. Edinburgh: W. Tait, 1840.

tial symptoms of tear and wear were on this festive occasion rendered much more obvious and general, so that the dancers with the dry and sore throats, and the Brussels carpet, were mutual sufferers, and must have parted with mutual sympathy and consent when the supper hour arrived; and the card-players, being by that time perfectly enfeebled by their mental exertions, simultaneously threw down their newly-dealt hands,

and straightway headed the procession which descended

to the refreshment room.

There was in Mrs Wildgoose's supper-room a long table covered with refreshments of every sort-every thing, in short, in or out of season, that ever was set upon a supper-table. There were dishes cold and hot, dishes costly and common, in such variety and abundance as would suit every taste and would satisfy every hungry appetite. And another table of smaller dimensions was set out on equally liberal principles, with liquors malt and spirituous, with a few decanters of foreign and home-made wines, which, like the Brushost of hot water jugs and toddy ladles, and the whole sels carpet, were more for show than service, and a contents of a crystal shop of tumblers and glasses.

It was not intended, and the company did not attempt it, that they should sit round the table, but they sat as they could, and how they could, two to a chair all over the room, thick and throng, with each a plate on his or her knee; and the first heat of carving, and helping, and stuffing, was over, before it was observed that one of the party was amissing.

Mrs Wildgoose had fancied all along that Miss Inglis was among the dancers. The dancers fancied she was among the forfeit-players or the punchdrinkers, and had given themselves no concern. The players at forfeits and the punch-drinkers had thought nothing at all about the matter. But she had been

"You're off your eggs now,' cried Lieutenant Darling, swilling off a glass of toddy. Concerning,' continued the speechifier, looking fiercely indignant at the lieutenant, but nothing daunted by the interruption; concerning, I say, the late most gratifying testification of your loyalty and attachment to your sovereign. And her most gracious majesty's will and pleasure is'

Hear, hear,' cried Mr Gollochar, the hatter. 'Hear, hear,' responded Captain Stark. 'And it is the will and pleasure of her most gracious majesty' proceeded the orator.

'Out with it at once, man,' cried Lieutenant Darling. We are all wearying for her majesty's will and pleasure.'

'Call to order,' cried Mr Herdman, in a tremendous voice; I can't get on with so many interruptions.'

Order,' screamed Mrs Wildgoose, in a shrill key. slap upon the table with the palm of his hand, which "Order,' roared Gollochar, with an accompanying

made all the glasses jingle, and the Miss Brocks, and the Miss Blythes, and the Miss Shorts, giggled in full chorus.

6

Order, ladies, I say,' vociferated Mr Herdman. Nay, it is order, gentlemen, I think,' bawled Mrs Wildgoose.

interposed Mr Macintosh, relieving Margaret from Your majesty must assert your authority here, the glass of untasted liquor, which he saw was only an annoyance and encumbrance to her. I fear,' continued he, 'you have chosen an unskilful commissioner.'

"She may easily appoint another,' said Gollochar to yourself? You are a capital hand at a speech." Macintosh. What do you say to accept of the office

Hear, hear! Mr Deputy Macintosh's speech,' shouted the sub-collector of the taxes. 'Mr Deputy Macintosh's speech,' echoed Mr Piper of the attic.

'Mr Deputy Macintosh's speech,' shouted all the company.

But an interruption was put to the business by the announcement of a new guest, namely, Bailie Liddel of the Canongate, who came puffing and blowing from a committee meeting, which had detained him till a late hour.

bailie, wiping, with his silk handkerchief, the drops of What a walk I have had, or rather race!' said the perspiration from off his brow and face.

"What will you take, bailie? said the mistress of the ceremonies, in her sweetest tone.