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are seen. When one thinks of the extraordinary ingenuity which these creatures evince, and the beauty of the processes which they go through, one feels, as it were, a degree of regret at the annihilation of creatures which have been endowed by the Disposer of all things with powers and habits so surprising; but further consideration should satisfy us that a check must be put, and was intended to be put, on the spread of all these inferior creatures, if they interfere with the comfort of man. An unlimited spread of these moths would keep us half naked; and it would be as foolish to encourage or permit such a thing, as it would be to foster the breed of tigers on account of the uncommon beauty of their skins. Hence, notwithstanding the interest with which the natural history of the clothes' moth abounds, its removal from substances of use to man becomes quite legitimate. The ravages which the creature commits among furs and fine woollen goods, are indeed so great, that much ingenuity has been expended upon attempts to get rid of it. Unfortunately, the means by which this may be most easily effected, are attended with disagreeable effects to the cloth or other material so cleaned. Turpentine, or the flavour of it, when moderately strong, instantaneously kills the moth; but turpentine is highly unpleasant to the human senses, and, when cloth is once impregnated with it, there is no removing its odour. Where this is of lesser consequence, no more effective remedy can be used, and only one colour, rose-colour, is affected by the oil. If goods infested by the Tinea, be put into a close place, and a saucer of turpentine placed along with them, the fumes which rise from the oil, at a moderate temperature, will destroy the vermin, without the substance being actually touched or sprinkled with it. To touch the cloth with a hair brush dipped in the liquid, will bring the nuisance, however, to a speedier close. The best way of banishing the consequent smell, is to hang up the stuff for a time in the open air.

doctor then proceeds to say, that, if ladies must have
artificial complexions, how much superior would be
such paints to the deleterious cosmetics in common
use; and as hairs form in part the food of the insect,
he ingeniously remarks, that "the pearly hairs of a
grandmother might be the means of augmenting the
beauty and saving the life of a grandchild, by af-
fording a pearl white of a delicacy of tint and harm-
lessness of character that cannot be equalled by any
chemical preparation."

These suggestions were made more than forty years
ago, and we are not aware if they have been ever
adopted for any practical purpose. They seem some-
what fanciful, certainly; but when we remember that
the cochineal insect affords one of our most common
dyes, we cannot but think that Dr Anderson's sugges
tions might have some practical value. He points
out that shearings of cloth, an article usually treated
as refuse, and various kinds of wool and hair, might
be dyed and used as food for the Tinea Pellionella and
its immediate congeners, such as the Tinea Vestianella,
or clothes' moth of summer, the Tinea Tapetzella, or
tapestry moth, and the Tinea Mellonella, or moth that
attacks bee-hives. We repeat that we are not aware
whether the plan has been tried or not since it was
suggested, but it is worth an experiment. Let not
any one smile at it, on account of the necessary minute-
ness of the proceeds of such an experiment, when tried
at least on a small scale. How vast are the quantities
of silk used in the world! Yet is it a petty grub just
such as is the Tinea Pellionella, that supplies all that
enormous amount of silk. Attention and care have
produced these great results in the one case, and simi-
far means might have similar effects also in the
other.

THE POLICE AGENT.
BY ARMAND DURANTIN.

[Abridged from "Pictures of the French, drawn by themselves,"
now in course of publication.]

type in French society, but a type varied to infinity:
we mean the POLICE AGENT.

We have observed that every one is acquainted with
his name, but very few have studied his position. We
do not speak of the garde municipal, who belongs to a
regular body of troops; nor the policeman, the zealous
protector of public peace and morals, who would not
scruple to take Fanny Elsler herself into custody if
she were ever to venture to dance the cachucha under
the shade of the Chaumière, or in the Tivoli gardens.
But there exists a peculiar class of agents who eschew
scrutiny, and are almost impenetrable to the common
observer-in short, the secret agents, whose mysterious
proceedings we have been watching in order to bring
them to light in this gallery.

The smoke of tobacco, or a decoction of it, is also effective in removing these insects. The flavour of this substance is so disgustful to them that they are THERE exists a class of men whose name is well known either killed by it, or avoid the tainted material. to the public, but whose manners, habits, and diploHere, again, however, the odour is one distasteful to the senses of a majority of the human race, particu-matic address, almost defy observation—a remarkable larly when it comes to them through the medium of clothes. The following plan is another of the many that have been proposed for the purpose under consideration. Some observers discovered the curious fact that the clothes' moth has a strong dislike to unwashed wool, probably from the animal oil or grease incorporated with it. Acting upon this discovery, many people have got rid of the insect by placing unwashed wool in layers among the infected cloth, or rubbing it upon the latter material, so as to communicate its flavour thereto. Another plan is also very generally followed. It had been observed that the moth was seldom if ever seen in drawers or boxes of cedar-wood, and it struck some one that to place cedar shavings in drawers made of other woods might answer the same purpose. We believe that this very simple scheme has proved pretty effective upon trial. The cedar has rather a pleasant flavour than otherwise. Many other strong-smelling substances, and in particular camphor, have been used for the same purpose with more or less success; but into the history of all these expedients it is needless to enter here. We must observe, however, before concluding, that, for the banishing of moths from ordinary household wardrobes, frequent airing of the contents is perhaps the best of all plans that can be tried. The clothes' moth, or its larva, delights in close, secluded, smothering situations, and cannot abide the open air. When the clothes are taken out, they must be well shaken, as the silken cables already alluded to, by means of which the creature anchors its case, hold it very firmly attached in ordinary instances. In September, when the larva is young, the attachment is less secure, and therefore that month is the best for airing and shaking clothes. They will be cleared of the vermin completely for the whole ensuing season, if the operation be then efficiently performed. September is the best season, likewise, for smoking these insects, as they are more easily killed, of course, when young. We have now but one other point of interest to notice relatively to this curious little creature, which forms, as we have seen, so striking an analogy to the human being in two important particulars, petty and insignificant as it may appear. We allude to its nakedness at birth, and to its tailoring powers. The remaining point of interest in its history has reference to the excrementitious matters which it emits. We quote Dr Anderson's Recreations in Natural History upon this subject. The excrementitious matter of the larva is tinged red, blue, green, or white, just as the colour of its food may be, and from this peculiarity Dr Anderson is led to suggest, "that this insect might be usefully employed by man in the preparation of pigments. It is probable that the colours thus obtained might possess qualities that belong to none others, so that it is a proper object for experiment." To a certain extent, Dr Anderson goes on to tell us, experiments had been already made, and from these it was found that the matters in question possessed an extraordinary fineness of tint and comminution, and that "they mixed equally well with water and oil. Thus, therefore, might be obtained greens and blues of the most beautiful tints in a state of perfection, and also one colour which has long been a desideratum, namely, a fine opaque white for water-colours." The

In truth, the notions generally entertained of the
organisation of the police, are singular enough. Many
worthy citizens firmly believe that there is no street,
passage, public walk, or assembly, that is not crowded
with secret police agents, and thieves no less numerous.
With respect to thieves, we do not say nay; but,
certainly, the number of agents is limited enough:
only they know how to multiply themselves with so
much address, that one alone would, in a case of great
urgency, be enough to watch over Paris.
Thirty-two agents alone have the surveillance of
the French metropolis, and the care of the safety of
its inhabitants. They are mostly chosen from among
those unfortunates who, having no other employment
or resources, are compelled to accept a wretched situ-
ation, of which most of them are ashamed. Doubtless,
this is an amelioration of the moral condition of the
police, but it is perhaps an evil; for those men who
are unskilled in the trade, who are unacquainted with
the tricks of the thief's profession, who cannot asso-
ciate with robbers, are more likely to let delinquents
escape than their predecessors, who had daily inter-
course with bad characters, followed them in their
nocturnal depredations, and to their secret haunts,
and watched and denounced them in time to prevent
the perpetration of intended crimes. The police have
indeed appreciated the inefficiency of the agents, and
are occasionally obliged to employ men of a different
stamp, who are not strictly in their pay, but who per-
form the same duties as the ancient companions of
Vidocq. This class of spies, composed of known thieves,
and men who have already been convicted, establish
an intercourse with the police agents, and although
they do not entirely renounce their unlawful practices,
clandestinely give information that often leads to the
discovery of crime. Their number is unlimited; they
generally meet at wine shops, taking care to place a
scout at the door to keep watch.

The secret police agents begin their operations in
Paris early in the day. Some are charged with the
inspection of pickpockets, others with the apprehen-
sion of shoplifters. For this service the agent disguises
himself as a workman, dandy, or what not. The fea-
tures of this class of thieves are known to him, and
not a day passes that he does not detect one or more
in the very act, in spite of their artful evasions.
Others have in their province to proceed under the
superintendence of their chief, M. Allard, to effect
the dangerous arrest of housebreakers and murderers.
When a man is suspected of having committed murder

on the highway, the chief of the brigade of safety gives instructions to the sixteen inspectors of lodging-houses in Paris, and these make inquiries about the haunts of the accused parties. The steps of the latter are dogged, every attempt is made to discover where they passed the night of the crime; and if circumstances corroborate the suspicion, they are immediately taken into custody, and placed in confinement.

The agents receive eight francs per arrest; but out of these eight francs they have to pay their informants. Moreover, the higher officials levy a mulet upon the paltry remainder, so that the agent pockets a few sous only of his premium. Yet it is well known that the duties of the police are efficiently discharged; and though it is impossible to prevent every crime, few are left unpunished.

The Police Agent is not very conversant with the usages of good society, nor is he there treated with respect by his superiors, as the following anecdote will testify. The head of a department entertained several important personages; the invitations included a secret agent, from whom information was required. Uneasy in such good company, the agent was unable to conceal his embarrassment. He was particularly puzzled by the sight of the little silver spoon on each salt-celler, and could not divine the use of an instrument apparently so superfluous.* Wishing to help himself to some salt, our humble guest removed the salt-spoon, and coolly plunged his finger and thumb into the salt-celler; he then carefully replaced the mysterious instrument. The master of the house observing a sneer on the countenances of his guests, turned to the secret agent, and complimented him on his renowned skill in capturing thieves. Gratified by this notice, the agent related some of his feats, and asserted that no thief could escape him.

"Are you so ready at tracking ?" asked the functionary.

"As a poacher after game," answered the agent. "Then can you tell me," pointing to the salt-celler, "what animal has passed there!"

To

He knows all languages, and, according to circum-
Yet the Police Agent has a good deal of learning.
stances, he could arrest you in French, English,
Italian, or German, and would make himself under-
stood in Chinese, if he had to capture a mandarin. He
is a very chameleon for changing at will, colour, tone,
and manners. The world is his native country; he
has neither friends nor relatives, and would, if need
were, arrest himself. Seven towns assert that Homer
was born within their walls; an equal number would
rise to disown the Police Agent, if there were the
slightest suspicion of one of them being his birth-place.
He is of any age, or of none; he has names without
number, and is never known twice by the same.
day he has riches, honours, a title and the ribbon of
an order; to-morrow he will wear a blouse, and smoke
a clay pipe. He knows every thing, sees every thing,
and is every where at once. With one ear he listens
to the instructions of his principal in the Rue de
Jerusalem, while with the other he overhears the
conference of certain conspirators in a garret in some
obscure faubourg. In the first days of the Republic
he frequented the clubs with his chin immersed in the
folds of a large red scarf; when France was ruled by
the Directory, he played deep in the saloons of the
Faubourg St Germain. Then came the Empire, and
he acted as spy alike upon the royalists and republicans.
Governments changed; but not the agent. The sus
pected party of one day was in power the next; and
the agent many a time received his orders from those
who a few days before were under his surveillance.
After the Restoration, decorated with orders and noble
titles ad lib., he acted as a spy towards the Bonapar-
tists, who could no longer reward his services. At a
later period, after the revolution of 1830, he insinuated
himself into secret societies, composed of the most
inveterate enemies of the government, and gave the
first signal of the emeutes. We saw one called as a
witness before the court of assize, impudently reply to
the judge, who was ignorant of his position, and boldly
provoke an uproar, knowing that he would be sup-
ported. This agent was a more violent bonnet rouge
than the wretches whom he had denounced.

There are dandies of the profession, charged with important operations, and certain captures that require more intelligence and cunning than force and courage. Not a day passes that you do not elbow one of them in the street; and often at the theatre, your amiable and obliging neighbour, who converses with such good taste on all the trifling topics of the day, is no other than an agent of the Rue de Jerusalem come to feel political pulses, or watch the proceedings of a notorious member of the swell mob.

The Police Agent has a wonderful faculty for every metamorphosis. The man who a few minutes ago appeared so rough and ill bred, can in a twinkling assume the most elegant manners. This reminds me of a curious scene at which I was present a few summers ago in a hotel at Cauterêts, when I myself was completely duped by a Police Agent.

dined that day at the table d'hôte, and by my side sat a charming young Parisian lady. A stout old gentleman was tying a napkin round his little boy's neck, while his wife endeavoured to cut something eatable off the lean skeleton of duck sent her by the young man at the head of the table. My attention was naturally attracted by the carver, who at a table

*[Salt spoons are a recent introduction into France.-ED.]

d'hôte is too important a personage to be neglected. I observed him closely.

He was rather a good-looking young man of about five and twenty; his black hair was artistically curled; he wore a small moustache, and his countenance had a very pleasing expression.

The next day, I learned that the fair traveller had been to visit the waters of Cauterêts, and that not daring to venture alone, she had accepted the young dandy's arm.

For some time they walked on in silence beneath the avenue of elms, and were bending their steps towards a neighbouring village, when a post-chaise that was rapidly passing them stopped on a signal from the

young man.

"What are you going to do?" asked the fair tra

veller.

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Surprise you agreeably," answered the young man, laughing. Step in, walking is weary work, and for me this journey will be most delightful."

"Sir, you are too gallant." "No one can be gallant enough for so fair a lady," returned her companion, carrying her unresisting hand to his lips.

"Come," said she, laughing, "I abandon myself to your care. What should I have done," she added, in a tender voice, "if I had not met you? I must have died of ennui! You are certainly my good genius.” The young man smiled, and made no Meanwhile, the post-chaise drove rapidly onwards; and an animated conversation soon ensued between the travellers.

answer.

"Where are we going?" exclaimed the young lady. "This is surely the high road. Postilion! postilion!" The young man did not reply; he no longer even smiled. "Sir, this conduct is infamous," cried the young lady, in a voice of terror. "Where are we going? Whither are you carrying me?" "To Paris." "What do I hear?"

"That, so far from being your good genius, I am, on the contrary, commissioned to conduct you, first to the Rue de Jerusalem, and thence to prison."

"There must be some mistake, sir." "Oh dear no, not at all-I never make mistakes. You are Emma Popply. What! don't you remember Rigody?" So saying, the handsome young fellow slowly took off his jet black wig, which concealed a short crop of bright vermillion; removed the falso beard and moustache that graced his bald chin and lip; and having carefully bestowed them in his greatcoat pocket, he coolly proceeded to fill and light a common red clay tobacco-pipe, humming snatches of Brandhofen all the while.

The chaise still drove at great speed, to the great dismay of one of its occupants. Having exhausted tears and threats, she had recourse to cajoleries, and these failing, tried an hysterical fit. But all were alike unsuccessful; nothing could disturb the equanimity of the agent, who, with the utmost unconcern, watched the volumes of smoke ascend to the roof of

the chaise.

"Sir, your conduct is cowardly and beneath contempt, thus to inveigle a poor defenceless woman!" said Emma, almost bursting with rage.

"You are a charming companion," said the agent, removing his pipe, and kissing her hand with mock respect.

This insolence is not to be borne," said the irritated fair one, smartly boxing her tormentor's ears. "You were more amiable a few minutes ago," answered Rigody, still unmoved.

"Let me go," said she, after a few minutes' hesitation, "and I promise you two-thirds of all I possess, jewels, gold, and notes."

"No-the thing's impossible."
"Suppose I consent to be yours?"
"You have just made me a better offer," said the

young man.

66

Brute," ” cried the mortified lady, relapsing into a silence that was unbroken till, three days afterwards, the post-chaise stopped before the hotel in the Rue de Jerusalem. The entrapped lady was handed out by her fellow traveller, and taken charge of by two policemen, who immediately closed the iron gates behind her.

I returned to Paris, and had entirely forgotten the two travellers, when one evening, about two months afterwards, whom should I meet at a party but my handsome hero of the glossy black hair, beard, and moustache. Having returned his bow, I inquired how matters stood between him and his conquest. "Which?" asked he. "Ah! I remember. A young girl, rather pretty?"

"The same. You carried her off, lucky fellow that you are!"

"Carried off! No, indeed; I only took her to the prefecture of police. If you consult the register, you will find this entry :-June 3, 1832.-Emina Popply, aged twenty-two, accused of purloining diamonds and cashmeres. Placed in confinement at five o'clock this day.'"

"Why, who are you?" said I, in astonishment. While I spoke, an old gentleman stopped near me, and stared hard at the young dandy, who, instead of answering me, changed colour, and, turning on his heel, disappeared in the crowd.

"Sir, can you tell me who that young man is ?" said I, turning towards the old gentleinan, with whom I was slightly acquainted.

THE PERSECUTION OF THE JEWS AT
DAMASCUS.

"A secret agent of police," was the answer. "Some out success. Then he was cruelly beaten with rods months ago I was his dupe in a political affair, in two several times, and they applied the torture to his which he played the part of accomplice to act as spy head. In the interval he received a brotherly visit against us. Every time he sees me, he instantly from Mohammed el Telli, so that he ended by declarretreats. Whenever you chance to meet the fellow, ing as follows:-He said, 'That on Wednesday, Fedo not fear to unmask him openly, sir, as I have just bruary 5, towards evening, he had been called into the done to you." house of David Arari, where were also Joseph, Aaron, and Isaac Arari, Moussa Aboulaffia, Moses Salonati, and Joseph Laniado, all distinguished merchants among the Israelites. They desired him to murder Father Thomas, who already lay bound in a corner of the room, but he refused to execute a crime so horrible. Then they dismissed him, putting into his hand a sum of money to induce him to keep silence respecting what he had seen. He retired, without knowing the fate of Father Thomas. The seven bastinadoed; but it being remembered that as most merchants were instantly arrested and interrogated. They denied every thing. They were ordered to be of them were of an advanced age, they might very likely die under the first strokes, it was thought that confession might be extracted by another species of torture. They were consequently made to remain standing for thirty-six hours consecutively, without being allowed to sleep. They underwent this torture, but persisted in denying all. After this trial they were beaten with rods, but this proceeding was soon suspended, for at the twentieth stroke the sufferers fainted away. As they persisted in their denial, the French consul judged that the punishment inflicted on them had not been executed according to the letter, and demanded that it should be repeated. This request was acceded to, but they continued to declare themselves innocent.

THAT species of persecution to which the Jewish
people were exposed in England, and other European
countries, during the middle ages, has lately been
revived with barbarous atrocity at Damascus, under
the government of Mehemet Ali. The people of this
this odious transaction from the report of Mr Merlato,
country have been made acquainted with the details of
the Austrian consul at Damascus, addressed to M.
Laurin, Consul-General for Austria at Alexandria,
dated March 23, 1840, and which has been circulated
in a translated form in the English and French papers.
From the succinct account of Mr Merlato, it will be
observed that the pretexts for the injuries committed
those which have been always used in similar cases-
on the unhappy Jews, are very nearly the same as
an unfounded charge of murdering adult or infant
Christians, for the sake of employing their blood in
certain religious offices. The following is Mr Mer-
lato's report:-

"On the 5th of February 1840, a Capuchin friar of
the name of Father Thomas, a native of Sardinia, dis-
appeared suddenly from Damascus, where he had
resided since the year 1806 or 1807; and at the same
time a young man, his servant, was likewise missing.
Father Thomas had formerly practised medicine, and
for a considerable time past had devoted himself ex-
clusively to the vaccination of children of all classes
and all religions; he was well known throughout the
country. He had amassed a much larger fortune than
is consistent with the regulations of the monastic
order to which he belonged. He was not fond of
giving; he talked a great deal, and to all kinds of
persons, without exception; he was rather given to
intemperate habits; he was of an easy temper, and

had but little education.

The day after his disappearance, the French consul (M. le Comte de Pratti Menton), whose duty it was to investigate the affair, commenced the task of tracing the fate of the two unfortunate men. He repaired first to the chamber occupied by them; money, the friar's effects, those of the servant of the hospice-all was found untouched. At the same time several Israelites declared that the Friar Thomas had been seen in the quarter of the Jews towards evening, on the day on which he was missed. No one said that he had been seen to quit it, no one testified to his having been seen elsewhere. It was inferred from these circumstances, that, on his entrance into their quarters, he had been murdered by the Hebrews. As soon as this idea was conceived, the search was no longer directed towards any other part of the town; yet it surely would not have been improper to carry the investigations beyond the quarter of the Jews, more especially as Father Thomas and his servant had, a short time blows, in the square of Hassan Pacha (a part of the previously, had a violent quarrel, accompanied with city much frequented), and as this fray had arisen between them and some Mussulmans of the lowest class, such as porters, carters, &c. Nevertheless, a young Hebrew, who thought proper to declare that he had seen him elsewhere, was so severely beaten with rods, that he expired after twenty-four hours' imprisonment.

Arrests followed: the bastinado was liberally used among the sufferers; one Hebrew, a man sixty years old, expired under the strokes; his crime was that of being doorkeeper of the Jewish quarter. The bodies of two Israelites lately dead were disinterred, to see if they were those of the two men who were missing, or at least those of two Jews who, having assisted in the perpetration of the crime, might have received some fatal wound in the struggle in which Father Thomas and his servant had perished. Many houses were searched, among which were some belonging to Austrian and Tuscan subjects, or persons protected by Austria, under the authority of my consulate; but for many days all these investigations were completely fruitless.

At length the French consul demanded the release
from prison of a Turk of low extraction, named Mo-
hammed Telli, who had been confined for debt towards
the state, and employed him in the affair, not only to
trace the guilty persons, but likewise to exhort sus-
pected persons and prisoners to furnish, by their con-
fessions, some clue, some indications, for the discovery
of the erime and its authors.

ber; he had been interrogated at the French consu-
Among the first persons arrested was a Jewish bar-
late, and in his answers were found some confusion
seriously inculpated than the other prisoners. He was
and some contradictions; he was thought to be more
kept at the consulate for three days, was exhorted to
declare every thing, and was promised a reward, and a
safe conduct to foreign countries-but all these means
could shake him. He was remanded to his excellency
were ineffectual; he persisted in his denials; nothing
the Sherif Pacha. The promises were renewed with-

In the meanwhile, the servant of David Arari was seized on. He was made to submit for a long time to the torture of the rod. In the intervals they washed his lacerated body with cold water; at last he said, that, by order of his master, David Arari, he had called on the barber to bid him come towards evening to the house. They searched the house of David Arari as many as six times, in hopes of discovering something; but fruitlessly. At length, on the evening of the 27th of February, 1840, the servant, whose name was Murad el Fallat, was called; after a formal promise of impunity, a promise made to him by the French consul, after more than one of Mohammed el Telli's affectionate visits, he declared 'That it was he himself who had murdered Father Thomas, in the house of David Arari, his master, in the presence and by the order of the seven merchants under arrest; the blood of the poor friar had been received in a crystal vase, for religious purposes to him unknown. The barber and himself were then employed to cut the body in pieces, to bray in a mortar the bones and the skull, and carry the whole away to an aqueduct which flows through one of the streets inhabited by the Hebrews, at a distance from the dwelling of Arari.' They now returned to the barber, interrogated him gently, in an insinuating manner. They encouraged him by fresh promises of impunity: he declared at last the same as the servant had declared. The French consul and his followers went to the place that had been indicated, preceded by the two witnesses one after the other. These two persons were mounted on carts, their sufferings not permitting them to stand or walk. At the spot pointed out by them, the drain was opened, and some bones were found, together with the remains human bones. These were taken to the seraglio, and of a cap. Some physicians declared that they were shown to the seven accused men, who, nevertheless, persisted in repelling every accusation of guilt. They and given up to the rods, and, one after the other, were then made to suffer tortures of various kinds, they all at last confessed themselves guilty of what the barber and servant had declared.

Four days after the confession of the seven merchants, an attempt was made to compel them to give up the watch and keys of Father Thomas. The unhappy men, perceiving that the sole aim was to prolong their miserable existence in the midst of the clared that their late confessions had been extorted most dreadful tortures, denied every thing, and defrom them by the violence of their agonies. This caused much surprise to the inquisitors, who had again recourse to the bastinado and other tortures, to bring thein back to their former confessions, but all in vain."

been made, with respect to the servant of Father The consul then states that similar accusations had Thomas, against other Israelites, among whom was Piccioto, an Austrian subject; that Piccioto had proved a distinct alibi by the evidence of Mr Marson, an individual under the protection of England; that the bones stated to have been found were afterwards declared by an able physician to be those of animals; and he then proceeds as follows:

Austrian, whose reputation as an honest man and peace"I, as consul, could not allow that an unfortunate able merchant had hitherto remained unblemished, should be given up to the malice of his enemies. I have therefore thought that a circumstantial account of the proceedings should be forwarded to your imperial consulate-general in Egypt, in order that such for preventing, not only a subject of our empire, but measures may be adopted as you shall judge proper even any European, whoever he may be, from finding himself, as is here the case, at the mercy and discreto hope that you will appreciate the reserve and caution of this infamous judicial inquisition. I venture tion of our conduct in this deplorable business, when

190

you read the correspondence which has taken place. Our opponents had it in their power to lay hold of a formidable weapon against us, namely, the blind and ignorant fanaticism of the Christians in this country. Because I, as Austrian consul, did not warmly lend myself to the encouragement of measures dictated by stupid passions, they have dared to address to me the most opprobrious imputations, and have probably ascribed to me the most foul and immoral intentions. I therefore most respectfully implore your excellency to interfere actively and efficaciously towards preventing, for the future, the recurrence of these calumnies, and obtaining honourable reparation for the injured individuals. If the Egyptian government will conscientiously endeavour to obtain accurate information on this strange event, it has only to summon all the accused, in order that they may be submitted to another examination, rigorous, but more in accordance with the customs of civilised nations. Otherwise my opinion is, that the truth with respect to this affair will always remain involved in obscurity."

In another statement of the same consul, the following passages occur :

"The Israelites of this town have undergone persecution, against which any other class would have risen in revolt. The names held in the highest estimation among the Jews, those whose fortunes are derived from the purest sources, those whose weakness is most deserving of compassion, are equally insulted and insecure. Sixty-three children have been detained in prison several days; women have been called upon to appear, and have been interrogated. At the first suspicion, the most respectable Jews, if not previously arrested, took flight; others secreted themselves in their houses, in order to escape the insults of the Christians."

The irritated Christians assembled in the public squares, relate to one another the most unheard-of extravagances about this sect, which they hate. The consul has made public an Arabic translation of some execrable doctrines imputed to the Jews, and drawn from a Latin book, entitled Prompta Bibliotheca. This book has been furnished through the zeal of our Christian missionaries of the Holy Land. A copy of it has been forwarded to his excellency Ibrahim Pacha.

Finally, Mr Merlato, in a third statement, says "An agent of the government yesterday discovered the retreat of Moses Fahi, son of Meir. He was brought before the pacha; they asked him where his father was. He answered that he did not know; instantly he received the bastinado. The child, being of a weak and delicate constitution, implored them to send for his mother. She was brought, but revealed nothing. The young man was again scourged with rods, and the unhappy mother in despair disclosed the place where her husband had taken refuge. I declare to you, sir, that it is impossible to endure any longer the spectacle of such atrocities, in which, underhand, the Latin monks and some Christian monks of the country take an active part, backed by the blind fanaticism of a mob who think their bigotry Christianity. A system of espionage is publicly organised, and encouraged by promises of money. All hearts are void of compassion; each dreads for himself the miseries of which he is witness. I shall claim, in the most urgent manner, the interference of the superior authorities." M. Laurin, Consul-General at Alexandria, thus expresses himself in a letter:-"The accusation has no legal foundation; the avowals of guilt have been obtained either by the agony of the torture, by intimidation, or by deceit.

For the interest of humanity, as well as especially for that of our subjects who are in danger of being put to death, though innocent, I am making every possible exertion to obtain from Mehemet Ali an order to direct that proceedings may be carried on in a humane manner, and judgment pronounced by judges who may be enlightened, independent, and free from prejudice. Mr Merlato deserves all praise, and every assistance in his courageous efforts on behalf of the

innocent."

In consequence of the representations made to him, Mehemet Ali interfered to stop the persecution at Damascus, though it is yet uncertain whether he will make a full and proper investigation into the subject, or issue such commands as will prevent a recurrence of the illegal barbarities. From a passage in the petition of the Egyptian Jews to Mehemet Ali, praying for his interference, it is evident that the persecution was greatly promoted by a certain resident European. After adverting to the revolting and incredible charge that the Jews would sacrifice a man and drink his blood, the petitioners say-"This is false on the face of it, but the old enmity of a person too powerful in Syria against every individual of our faith, gives credit to such a falsehood, and hence the most respectable people of the country are tortured; blows without number are inflicted on their persons; newly invented and most severe tortures afflict the unhappy race, and these are the means to induce them to confess! Surely such great suffering might extort a false confession from some of them, for, though there are many men who can face immediate death, there are but few who can endure torture, and in Damascus the tortures are greater than they have ever been in the world. Already have Israelites been known to confess themselves guilty, and afterwards their innocence hath been proved. Above one hundred children are perishing in prison from want of food. And this is

The individual here alluded

the way in which justice is administered to your people in Damascus." to, and whom the Jews in Egypt dare not venture to name, is Count Pratti Menton, consul of France-a fact which, if true, certainly calls for some decided We are measure on the part of his government. glad to learn that the British government has already exerted itself in behalf of the much injured and perillously situated Jews of Damascus, and from this circumstance alone we may anticipate a speedy conclusion to these barbarities.

A FEW WEEKS FROM HOME.

NEWCASTLE-CONCLUDED.

THE improvements which I have described as having taken place in Newcastle, were accomplished in the space of five years, or between 1834 and 1839, and added new property to the town which has been valued at nearly a million of pounds. Much of this property, however, remains unfinished or unoccupied ; a great number of the shops have never been opened for business, and are not likely to be required for several years; many houses, likewise, remain without inhabitants. It is rather unfortunate, that, by Mr Grainger's arrangements, there is little choice in the new erections. There is a complaint of a want of variety. A shop is but one apartment, notched out of the front of a building, leaving the house otherwise from cellar to garret to form a private dwelling, entered by a separate door. This kind of house has many inconveniences; it will not be selected by a superior order of inhabitants, who will prefer a house at a distance from the business streets, and it is too large and expensive for persons of moderate desires The common-stair plan of building, as and means. at Paris and Edinburgh, might have been introduced into some of the business districts with considerable advantage both to proprietor and tenant. In the present partially occupied state in which we find both new houses and shops, an annual rental, as it appears, of L.17,416 is realised; when fully occupied, the sum will be increased to L.40,000.

The whole of Mr Grainger's surprising alterations were begun and carried on towards completion without an act of parliament-a circumstance only to be accounted for by the general popularity of his schemes and his own energy of character. He was likewise greatly favoured by having to negotiate with a towncouncil which had been lately remodelled, and was desirous of earrying useful improvements into effect. So far was the civic corporation impressed with the propriety of making extensive improvements, that it procured an act of parliament in 1837, by which, along with powers respecting matters of police and local management, it possesses authority to remove certain old streets and buildings in divers quarters, so as to open up new lines of thoroughfare from the environs. This design, and also a plan for extending the quay for shipping and steam-boats, are now slowly in progress under the care of the council, whose funds are able to permit to a certain limit this species of outlay, as they amount annually to about L.40,000. Of the ultimate benefit of all these schemes of improvement, there cannot be any doubt. Newcastle had greatly fallen behind the taste of the age: it was not even worthy of itself. It is now, in point of elegance and comfort, on a par with, or rather superior to, most

towns of the same resources.

engine work, that it was not heard over the hum of voices in the apartment. By means of shafts and belts, it turned a variety of apparatus requiring power to keep them in motion. By far the most interesting of these pieces of machinery that came under my observation, was Walton's patent card-making machine, which is probably the most wonderful apparatus ever contrived by human ingenuity. The object of the machine is to cut small pieces from a coil of fine steel wire, bend the pieces into a particular shape, and insert them as rows of teeth in a flat leather belt; the ultimate design being to employ the toothed belt in the carding of cotton or wool. The making and insertion of teeth by the hand is a laborious and tedious operation, and therefore the invention of this machine is one of the finest triumphs of skill. The apparatus, which seems a perfect cluster of small wheels, levers, and other minute parts, acting by short and rapid jerks, performs nineteen distinct motions in the making of every tooth, and makes and fixes 250 teeth per minute. It was under the watchful care of a superintendent, who at times shifted the belt; it had been brought from Lancashire to be exhibited, at a considerable expense to the directors. The exhibition, I am glad to say, was warmly supported by the inhabitants, not only of Newcastle, but of all the adjoining district; and by a liberal arrangement of the directors of the railway, persons were brought from Carlisle to see the exhibition and carried back at a reduced fare. Up till the period of my visit, 7339 season tickets, and 21,919 single admission tickets (the latter 6d. each) had been disposed of a fact of the most gratifying kind, as showing the extent of the interest now taken in rational and improving exhibitions.

Newcastle has long possessed one of the best mechanics' institutions in the kingdom, and has now an institution or society for providing popular lectures and music, on Saturday evenings, at a cheap rate of admission. I went to one of these Saturday evening assemblies, which took place in a spacious lectureroom beneath one of the halls of the polytechnic exhibition. The admission money was 2d., and I found present about 700 persons, chiefly workmen, and some young men from shops and warehouses. By some accident, the lecturer did not make his appearance, and the entertainment was necessarily confined to music. Some pieces were well performed on the piano, and sung by different individuals of both sexes, employed for the purpose; but other parts of the performance were less to be admired. It is a pity that this entertainment should be defective in point of managernent, for such meetings, when well conducted, as they are at Glasgow, do much good, being both a cheap and an innocent substitute for the seductions of the publichouse.

Besides these institutions of a humble character in Newcastle, there are others of a higher grade, for purposes of social advancement, and the cultivation of science and the arts. Latterly, a most extensive suite of public baths has been erected by subscription, and is now in full operation. I have seen nothing of the kind any where to compare with these baths. A substantial stone building of one story, covering an area of 176 feet by 134, is laid out with large and small baths, on a remarkably liberal scale. There are, in a central open part, two plunge baths, one for gentlemen 100 feet by 50, the other for the working classes 96 feet by 30. Leading from the various corridors around these, are warm, medicated, tepid, vapour, and hot air baths, each in a small apartment, with a dressing-room adjoining: one section is laid off for ladies, and another for gentlemen, with separate entrances, and waiting rooms. All the baths are lined with glistening white tiles, and look clean and comfortable.

At the period of my stay, the town was enjoying the treat of a polytechnic exhibition, which I took the opportunity of visiting, and found to be got up in a The exhibition occuhighly praiseworthy manner. pied a series of large apartments, in two separate buildings, which were connected by a temporary covered gallery thrown across a narrow street. Here we found upwards of 300 paintings and drawings, a variety of pieces of sculpture and models, a very large quantity of objects of vertu and curiosity, such as occupy public museums, an equally large quantity of articles illustrative of the progress in the arts, and many objects in natural history. High walls covered with rare and costly articles, long rows of glass-cases sparkling with gems and valuable objects of art, tables loaded with a profusion of vases, jars, &c., formed some of the details of the scene. But the principal place of attraction was the largest of the apartments, which usually serves as a music-hall. This room, measuring 100 feet in length by 40 in breadth, had its centre occupied by a circular basin of water, surrounded by a table on which was a railway with a small locomotive vehicle and carriage running round it; it contained also a canal, on which was a model steam-boat in motion. Arranged around the margin of the circular table, there were various working models of apparatus demonstrating hydraulic operations. Near these interesting objects were exhibited five large annular polyzonal lenses, with mirrors mounted in framework, as now used in lighthouses of the first order, with revolving and flashing lights; the whole lighted up every evening. In another corner of the room a Jacquard loom was kept in constant operation, weaving figured waistcoating. In the middle of the floor stood a highly-finished steam-engine of five horsepower and somewhat novel arrangement, made for the exhibition by the Messrs Hawthorn of Newcastle. The cylinder of the engine, which rested on the floor, was singularly shallow, but of large diameter, and it and all other parts of the mechanism were of finely-blishment. polished iron: so smoothly and noiselessly did the In order to have some notion of the trade upon

It is evident from these and other matters which fell under my notice, that Newcastle possesses a population who are desirous of being something more than mere money-makers; no other town of its size is so ready a patron of the fine arts, or spends so much of its gains annually on literature. London booksellers tell us that no town in England, the metropolis excepted, has such a large demand for embellished and costly productions of the press. The general habits and language of the lower classes of the inhabitants afford some less gratifying traits; still, it is pleasing to reflect that here, at least, is a horde of industrious human beings, who are not exposed every now and then to a complete failure of the means of subsistence, in consequence of those stoppages of employment which elsewhere occur almost at fixed times, and produce such wide-spread misery, Newcastle and its neighbourhood, embracing a population of 150,000, have little or no experience of these dreadful disasters. The people-all who are able and willing to work-are well employed, and at generally good wages. The manufacture of steam-engines and locomotive machines, which has lately been added to the course of industry, is now carried on to a very large extent, and employs some thousands of workmen. I had the good fortune to be permitted to walk through the establishment of Messrs Hawthorn, where five hundred men are constantly engaged in making these engines and machines, and was astonished at the magnitude and complex details of the concern. Upwards of a dozen locomotives each valued, I understand, at about L.1500-were pointed out to me as preparing for the North of England and other railways. Nothing more is wanted to prove that the world is in no likelihood of standing still, than a visit to such an esta

the Tyne, I devoted a day to a sail in a steamer down the river to its estuary, a distance of ten miles. There is nothing in the voyage which can afford pleasure to the eye of a scene-hunter; all that craves attention belongs to coal-mining or manufacturing, and indicates the character of the district. From Newcastle, pretty nearly all the way downwards on both sides, the banks rise rather steeply from the edge of the water, being in some places composed of huge mounds of clay or muddy material, brought as ballast in vessels from London and other places to which coal is exported. These mud hills, the accumulation of centuries, in some parts cover a large space of ground, and rise to a height of perhaps 150 feet. In time, they become covered with herbage, and are not distinguishable from the steep banks which adjoin them. Placed at favourable spots on both sides, are numerous dingy smoking factories of glass, pottery, paints, and chemical materials. At intervals, we observe depôts of grinding stones, with wharfs for their shipment; and at many bold parts of the banks are seen staiths for putting on board coals from the pits, which lie at the distance of from a quarter of a mile to eight miles from the river. For this immense coal-field, the Tyne has for ages served as the great and commodious outlet. It has been the practice for many years to convey the coal from the mouth of the pit by a railway leading to the bank of the river, where it has been taken on board of lighters, called keels, to be carried down to the ships at Shields, or on board the vessels themselves, if able to come alongside. By improvements in the navigation of the Tyne, and the erection of staiths, the clumsy mode of employing keel boats has been greatly obviated. A staith is a very peculiar apparatus. It is a species of high scaffolding of wood, forming the terminating point of a railway from the pit, and to its brink is brought the loaded waggon ready to be emptied into the vessel beneath. As soon as the waggon reaches the verge of the scaffold, it is seen to sink slowly without suffering any disturbance, and is thus let down till close over the ship's hold, when the bottom is disengaged, and the entire contents are deposited in their designed situation. The waggon, being now emptied, rises in the air to the level of the scaffold, and immediately runs away along the line to make way for its successor. The mechanism by which this feat of falling and rising is performed is a powerful lever process, whose exterior large arms are alone seen in action. By these means a vessel can receive its load in a very short space of time, and the coal is likewise preserved from being dashed and broken, as would necessarily be the case if it were poured into keels, and from them shovelled into the holds of ships in the river. Keels are now used chiefly for conveying coal from the staiths above the bridge at Newcastle. The keelmen, who have latterly declined in number, are an exceedingly active body of watermen. Three men and a boy, the usual amount of a crew, will guide one of their little vessels down the river to Shields, a distance of twelve or fourteen miles, there deliver their cargo of eight chalders, or twenty-two tons, and return by the tide to the place whence they set out, all within a space of fourteen hours. It has been established by evidence before a committee of the House of Lords, that the keelmen of the Tyne receive less payment for their enormous day's labour than a London lighterman enjoys for conveying the same quantity of coal from the ship's side to the wharf. This, however, is only one of many monstrous abuses to which the coal trade of London is subject, and to which the people of that city submit with wonderful resignation. At Newcastle, coal is, as might be expected, remarkably cheap. I saw some of a fine quality burning in a gentleman's house, which, I was informed, cost only six shillings per ton, being rather less than a fifth of the price in London.

On approaching the mouth of the Tyne, our steamer shot past successive groups of vessels ranked up in some kind of order, to the extent of many hundreds, and waiting either for their cargo or a favourable opportunity of putting to sea. Opposite North Shields the masses of shipping increased in density, and here, penetrating through their ranks, the small steamer landed us on a slip of quay, apparently the only flat piece of ground in the town. North Shields, which may be considered the shipping port of Newcastle on the Tyne, is a most uninviting cluster of old red brick houses, stuck on the face of a hill overhanging the river, and is balanced on the opposite shore by a facsimile of itself, but of inferior dimensions, entitled South Shields. Plunging through the miry and tortuous lanes of this busy emporium of the coal trade, we emerged on a high bank beyond the town, and forthwith proceeded a distance of about a mile to Tynemouth. This is a retired and agreeable place of summer residence, very different in aspect from its neighbour, and, with its ruined priory, commands a charming prospect seaward. Immediately below is the bar of the river, distinguishable by the white foam which curls in masses over it, and through whose passages it requires considerable nautical skill to bring a vessel safely into port.

Some thirty years ago it was almost as difficult a matter to reach Shields from Newcastle as it was to reach Margate from London; but now all this is changed. First came steam-boats, and then a railway. At present, the railway carries the day; though the fare by water is only 6d., the locomotives have almost driven the steamers off the course. Having given our

custom to the boats in going down, we thought it but
fair to countenance the railway in going up. Distance
eight miles-time twenty minutes. fare 9d.; the
thing was well done. I never was on a railway which
pleased me so much as this. The line proceeds over
a flat tract of land, through the midst of villages inha-
bited by colliers employed in the pits, and crosses, by
lofty bridges, two deep ravines with rivulets tributary
to the Tyne. All the rails are firmly screwed upon
square blocks of wood, laid longitudinally, and bound
together like a frame-work, at the distance of every
twelve feet or thereabouts. By these means, the rails
rest throughout their entire length on a uniformly
level basis, by which all jolting and lateral motion are
avoided. After trying all the principal railways in
England, as well as several in other countries, I have
found none on which the motion is so easy and smooth
as that between Newcastle and Shields; and I can
ascribe this to no other circumstance than the mode
of laying the rails on longitudinal bars of timber. In
proceeding along the line from Shields, the train
passes at the distance of about half way the church
and village of Wallsend, with the colliery of the same
name. This place marks the terminating point of the
Roman wall on the Tyne. The various other villages,
which are rapidly shot past, mostly consist of brick
and tiled dwelling-houses of a humble order, for col-
liers and their families; but all, as was mentioned to
me, are clean and comfortable to no inconsiderable
degree, and each, as I observed, was furnished with a
pig-house behind, the use of pork or bacon being uni-
versal in this part of the country.

On the south side of the Tyne, a railway, also lately
established, connects Gateshead with Sunderland, and
that being joined by another railway which branches
off to Durham, this great and rapidly improving dis-
trict may be said to be already laced all over with
these admirable means of communication.

THE LITTLE FISHMONGER.
[BY MRS S. C. HALL.]

(From

irritating the little Fishmonger, ask him what he is, he says, "What I always was," in a tone that effectually silences any further inquiry, at least for the time. Job has, I believe, no friends; the gentle patient creature who shares his toils and bears with his temper seems as much in awe of him as any one else, and his children skulk out of the sunshine and into the shade when they hear his footstep. He has now three little children-eighteen months ago he had six, but the scarlet fever carried off three in one week; the little coffins, covered with decent black, left Job's lonely bleak cottage in the snow of a December morning; the coffins were placed upon a hand-barrow, the undertaker supporting the front handles, and a kind neighbour bringing up the rear; while Job followed with his dog and his weeping wife. Very sad, indeed, the humble procession looked, so desperately dark upon the silver snow; but Job shed no tear, nor even thanked his neighbours who attended; if he felt, the iron of his stern-built frame suppressed the emotion. Of all men in the parish, Job has long been instanced as the most hard, the most severe, the most unyielding, but honest and true. His word was never doubted, nor his honesty questioned. He is, in short, a character over whom circumstances have no influence-he never moved his seal-skin cap in his life to any of the powers that be-he never went to see a sight but one, and that was a huge sturgeon, exhibited in Hungerford market three years ago and then said, "he was a great fool, for it was nothing but a big fish after all." He never laughed, nor cried, except "Fine haddock and live sole," or "lobsters," with variations peculiarly his own, laying a long strong emphasis upon the word "lob-bb," and ascending by thirds into "sta-hi-hi-ers," and, strange as it may seem, the cry was by no means unmusical. "You cry lobsters very pleasantly, my mistress says," said the cook to him one day as he was -not shouldering, but, if I may be permitted to coin a word "heading" his lobsters. "Does she?" quoth he, jerking the basket on his head; "eagh! it doesn't much matter; my cry's my own, and I shouldn't change it."

Still, notwithstanding his ungraciousness, Job felt the compliment, for he always stops at the corner, and gives the "Sta-hi-hi-ers" with as perfect melody as possible, and then jerks the basket, as much as to say, "I know I did that well." Now, would any suppose,

even Job had a tender morsel in his ossified heart :

There is an immensity of privation endured by the lower classes. As an Irishwoman, I see it less than others, because the peasantry of my own country suffer and bear so much more. Still there is a great deal, even in neighbourhoods where the rich spend much time, and more money, in visiting and relieving the distresses of their humble fellow-creatures. Somehow no one liked to visit Job; although it was observed, and, being observed, talked about, that Job carried herrings instead of haddocks, and shrimps instead of lobsters-that his cheek was less ruddy, and that poor Tickle not only eyed the butcher's shop, but absolutely purloined a bone, for which he was soundly thrashed by his master. Mrs Job was not met going to market as of old, and when questioned said, "she bought at night." Just when things looked "suspicious of poverty," Job fell and broke his arm; his pale pretty wife hawked the fish about for a time, and sad it was to hear her low gentle voice roused to the energy of a cry in the cold winter mornings. People bought from her though they did not want, for every one liked her. One of the ladies of our district committee met Mary and offered her assistance, which she thankfully accepted, and the same lady called at the cottage to repeat the gift; Job was unfortunately at home alone, and to the kind question of "Can I be of any use to you?" answered a gruff "No!" that offended a kind but warm-tempered visiter.

"The Britannia" newspaper.) PEOPLE who live amid the hurry and bustle of large cities are seldom able to study the various shades of human character, like those who, having fewer objects to divert their attention, have also more time to observe. In great cities people come and go-you do from what I have said of the little Fishmonger, that there was a tender chord in his bosom, which revernot meet the same face perhaps more than once a-year berated as gently as the tones of an Eolian harp, if and then, except that time may have underlined breathed over by the evening breeze-he who had folthe stronger features, the face is dressed exactly in lowed three children to the same grave without a tear the same manner-the same smile the same ex-who had uniformly treated his wife harshly-who pression, whether it be born of pain or pleasure—and, was the bugbear of the neighbourhood, who was disit may be, the same phrase is repeated, either in the liked by every housekeeper who bought his fish, whose way of question or reply; for those "greetings in the surliness was a byword, who often ill-used the illmarket-place" are all generally alike. In the busy favoured but most faithful cur that trotted at his feet; world your sympathies have no time to take root; the and thus I know it. wheel revolves, the kaleidoscope is shaken, you forget and are forgotten, the more wide your field of observation the less leisure you have to observe; and though you have a moral certainty that every creature you meet has a distinct and positive character of his or her own, they dwell in your memory only as black, brown, or fair! There is the little Fishmonger, for instance, who lives with his small fry of children in that little bleak lonely cottage near the Canal. I have passed that man scores of times, hear his voice in the distance every morning of my life, know the names of every one of his children, and even of his little ugly cur dog Tickle, a misshapen, blear-eyed, cross-grained brute, as ever infested a high-road or narrow lane, and whom every cat in the village, acting upon the combination system, sets up her back at, be she at the street-door, or staring with her great green eyes out of the first-floor window. I thought I knew the character of the little Fishmonger, whose very name of Job was given, it would seem, in derision and defiance of every rule of Christian patience, for Tickle and Job are well matched. What the dog is, that is the master-and what the master is, that is the dog. Job is as lame upon his two legs as his canine follower is upon double the number; as ready to snarl and growl, and quarrel with the mistresses of the various cats, as the cats are with Tickle; in fact, the little Fishmonger's approach is the signal for a sort of running fire from cottage to cottage; every one quarrels with Job, every one buys from Job-for his fish are good, and he lays them nicely out upon a snow-white cloth, and covers them with fresh-cut grass. He is, of course, a violent Radical, and was still more so; but at a beershop where politics are talked over regularly and strongly, some one told Job that a new prerogative was to be given to mankind under the title of Socialism, which bestowed more liberty than Radicals, or even Chartists, had ever dreamed of before; inasmuch as men were to exchange wives, and wives husbands, at pleasure. Job presupposed a case and which (considering how ill he had often treated his kind, gentle, and still pretty Mary) was very natural-he supposed that if Mary pleaded incompatibility of temper, and took unto herself another husband, what was to become of him, the three young Jobs, and Tickle Job went home that night a silent man, did not visit the beer-shop the following night, hinted that he thought things were going too far, and that, perhaps, he might join the Temperance Society.

Still Job has not forsworn his opinions, and if any of his village customers, with the charitable intent of

A pebble will sometimes turn the current of sweet charity. Job got better-well, the people said; but even the small stock of herrings dwindled into half a basket of sprats.

"Job," inquired a cottager's wife, "Job, will you warrant these sprats?"

"No!" roared the little Fishmonger; and off he went, followed by the hairy shadow of what had been Tickle.

The question was repeated once and twice. Job had been imposed on, but was too honest to impose upon others.

"No," he vociferated for the last time; "and I'l carry them no longer," and he threw the sprats into the nearest ditch.

lonely than ever. The bed and bedstead, the chest Lonely as his cottage had always been, it was more of drawers, the clock, whose stroke had marked the hour each child was born, and whose iron tongue had knelled the time of the departure of three from a world of trouble-all were gone. His wife and children were cowering over the ashes of a miserable fire,

Rizzio himself, in the presence of Mary, never touched a harp with more tenderness than Job, when he drew the dusty bow over the two last strings of his long-cherished instrument. "Hush!" whispered his wife to her eldest living child. "Hush!" and then she burst into tears, while the youngest starveling said, with blue and quivering lips, "Mammy, shall I dance?-daddy never played music till now, since brothers died!"

Job came out after a time-the violin and bow had been carefully dusted and replaced in the box, which the little Fishmonger carried under his arm. "Job!" exclaimed his wife, "you are not going to sell that, are you? Job, you have often said you would die to part with it; you've had it seven-and-twenty years. Oh! Job, the only times you've been kind to us, was when you played it-it softened your heart, like -it was a friend to us. I thought the time might come when you'd play it again."

A BEAR HUNT IN LAPLAND. looking into the embers, with hungry eyes, that did not thrown across the Canal-twilight had deepened into dare to look into the face of him whose harshness but night, and the young moon threw a line of silver light A peasant generally goes out in search of his trail, and, increased their misery; when Job strode into what upon its waters, that seemed a peaceful and secret bed having found it, moves in a ring some miles in circumhad been their bedroom, and locked the door; in a for those whom earth rejects from her cares and sym- ference, to make sure of having him within it. He then corner stood, or rather lay, a box covered with dust-pathies. He laid the box on the wall, and leaning his gradually contracts his circles, till he comes to the retreat he opened it, and brought forth an old violin. arms upon the parapet, looked down upon the deep itself of the animal. Weeks are sometimes expended in this search; the peasantry are then summoned to a skall and narrow channel. "If I was out of the way," he thought, "the neigh-by the landshofoding, or governor of the province, and bours would all look to Mary and the children; it's put under the direction of the jogmoestare, or ranger of the district, who marshals them, and commands their me they can't bear; but no one ever could bear me movements. The peasants are generally formed into but poor Mary! After all, it's a dirty way of ending circles, and come armed with whatever weapons they one's days; all mud, and not a good fish from one end can procure. Though opposed singly to a whole host, the bear often spreads havoc among his assailants. Every to the other of it. So near home, too!" And after a lengthened pause, having, as it would seem, changed ball that enters his huge carcass but adds fire to his fury, his purpose, he took up the box, and proceeded along and wo to the individual whom his wrath has singled out. the back road across the fields, passed Earl's Court, It ceases to be a mere pastime, and nothing but the until he came to a lane where the Eagle Saw-Mills greatest self-possession can save him from a miserable exult in noise and smoke, through Thistle Grove, that death. While at Hernosand, I saw a representation of an event that took place at a skall in the neighbourhood, olla podrida of suburban architecture, across the Fulham Road, down Milman's Row-and there flowed in 1831, and which shows that bear-hunting must be the Thames. Apparently the poor fellow had resolved quite equal to tiger-hunting in excitement and peril. The bear on this occasion was very large; nothing like to throw himself off Battersea Bridge, but, on prean American bear, with which an Indian can grapple, but senting himself at the toll-house, the man demanded a an enormous beast able to carry off a pony under his halfpenny. Alas! he had it not. His temper, probably never very good, had been ruffled by ten shots lodged in different parts of his body; all present entrenched themselves, and awaited some desperate effort on his part, should not a lucky shot through the head speedily give him his quietus. At this moment, a man, bolder than his companions, advancing before them, the bear rushed upon him, tore the gun from his hands, and began to wound him with his tremendous claws. The wretched man was unable to contend with his muscular antagonist; already his wounds Job stood half under the shed, and opened it. were letting out his life, when a young Norrlander, unable "Why," he exclaimed, looking down on the veneto look quietly on, rushed to his assistance. Besides the rable instrument, "it ain't worth a halfpenny!" danger which he himself incurred, and which, of course, "Yes, it is," said a voice behind them. Both men he had no feeling of, there was some difficulty in shooting were surprised, but the keeper touched his hat, for the the bear without striking the man. As he advanced, the new comer was an eccentric but well-known character, bear rose on his hind legs to meet his new opponent: his residing not quite half a mile on the Surrey side of victim dropped before him; the Norrlander seized the the venerable bridge. favourable opportunity, raised his gun with both arms "Let me look at that instrument," said the gentle-high above his head, to bring it in a horizontal position man. on a level with the bear's, and, trusting to feeling more than sight, discharged his piece. An immediate deathwound could alone save either from their enemy. The success which the brave man deserved attended him, and the ball passed through the brain of the bear, which fell dead on the rescued man.-Dillon's Winter in Lapland.

Job made no answer, but quitted the cottage. The little Fishmonger proceeded on his way, but not rejoicing. Any one who observed his firm and dogged step, his bent head, and the determined gathering together of his entire frame, could perceive that he was resolved to go through whatever he had undertaken, and that the undertaking was (to him) of consequence. We are all too apt in this hastily-judging world—we are all, I say, too apt, according to the old proverb, to measure our neighbour's corn in our own bushel-to fancy our own privation great, and our neighbour's small-to think, if the peasant-girl place a field-flower in her hair, that she trenches on our prerogative indulges in a superfluity. But I must finish my story, and cease moralising. The little Fishmonger plodded on to the beer-shop, where he had first heard of the advantages of Socialism. "If," he thought within himself, "these people wish us all to share and share alike, surely they will take a shilling chance in a raffle for my poor violin."

Job entered the room. One fellow, the orator of

the party, was making a speech, while another, acting on the principle of equal right to be heard, was singing a song. It was evident there did not exist among

them even the rude courtesy that is shown by one labourer to another; each wanted to be first; none would be last. Some took the part of the orator, others of the singer, and the little Fishmonger, pressing his treasure more closely to his side, squeezed himself into a vacant seat, and waited the issue, or rather waited for a pause in the contest, that he might propose a plan, which was to save his children from immediate starvation, and deprive him for ever of his cherished instrument; he was right glad of the tumult -for it seemed to diminish that which raged in his own bosom pride and independence had been tugging at his heart; and when, for a moment, he closed his eyes, to shut himself in, as it were, with his own considerations, his wife's ghastly face, and the blue quivering lips of his youngest born, rose before him. This forced him into action, much against his sullen nature, and, to the astonishment of the company," he sprang upon the table, and, in a voice hoarse with unusual emotion, declared his desire to dispose of the cherished treasure of his soul by raffle, charging a shilling for each chance. There was an immediate desire to see the instrument.

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"Play on the two strings, Job; let's hear the music," said another, sneeringly.

Job looked as though he could have knocked the speaker down.

"John Cummins," quoth the pot-boy, "sold a gayer looking one than that, last week, for five bob and a pint of purl."

"I tell you what, Job," said the butcher, who had often declared that, but for Job's fish, he could sell more meat, and consequently did not regard him with particular favour, "put it up at a silver fourpence a chance, and I'll begin by taking three;" and he struck the table with his fist, and looked round, as much as to say, "I have made a liberal offer."

"Too liberal," exclaimed another; "the whole concarn ain't worth it."

"If it was not worth it," answered Job, sturdily, "I should not bring it to be raffled for, though God knows, I!" the little Fishmonger was about to make a confession of his poverty, but he could not, and quietly stepped down off the table.

"God knows what?" inquired the butcher. "All things," was the laconic reply, as he prepared to quit the house.

Holloa!" said the landlord, "won't you stand any thing?"

"No," shouted Job; "there ye are all of ye, pretending to more liberality than the rest of the world -and-but no matter-God knows all things." He rushed from the house, and walked towards town. The consciousness that he had acted too hastily pressed him still more deeply into misery; and now, when no eye was there to bear witness against him, heavy and bitter tears coursed each other down the rough furrows in his cheeks. He came to the bridge which is

"Are you coming back?" asked the keeper.
"No," muttered Job; "I hope not."
"Because, if you were, you might leave that box in
pledge," observed the man.

The little Fishmonger paused. "Well, I will," he
answered.

"Stay," persisted the guardian of the bridge; "let

me first see its contents."

Job placed it in his hands without speaking, but
fixed upon his countenance the earnest, anxious look
of one whose life depended upon his decision.
The gentleman turned it over, tapped it gently with
his knuckle to ascertain if it was sound, peeped into
the interior, again turned it over, smiled, and looked
at the little Fishmonger, while taking the bow he held

towards him.

"The bow is new-that is to say, new compared to
the other," observed Job. "It's a good bow."
"Psha!" said the old gentleman, returning it.
"I bought it myself," added Job, rather offended.
"And the violin ?"

"Ah! my father had it of an old Italian gentleman,
who died suddenly; his things were sold by the land-
lady; and having a turn for music, he took it in part
for wages due. He used to play on it to me when I
was a child, to dance to it-to dance! God help me!" |
There was a world of misery in the sound of that
last sentence-" To dance! God help me!" But the
old gentleman did not heed it.

"And you will sell it ?"

The little Fishmonger was a chapman ; but still he had suffered too much of prolonged sorrow during the past days-too much of intense agony during the last few hours, to think of his craft, and he eagerly answered, "Yes!"

man,

"Before you tell me your price," said the gentle-
"let me ask you if you know what it is?"
"Ough!" grumbled Job; "to be sure I do-it's a
fiddle."

"Ah!" said the stranger, drawing out his purse,
"what do you want for it?"

"I would not part with it if I could help it-no money can pay me for it; but many that heard it said it was prime; perhaps thirty shillings”

"For that!" exclaimed the toll-keeper, contemptuously.

The gentleman emptied his purse into Job's hand; one, two, three, four, five golden sovereigns, and placing his card upon them, said, "Call upon me to-morrow, and you shall have the full value of your instrument."

He then buttoned it up carefully, as if it had been an infant, inside his cloak, and departed with the air of a man who had obtained his heart's desire. Job was for a moment as one palsied, but perceiving the stranger had forgotten the bow, he seized it, and ran after him.

"It is of no value," said the gentleman; " call on me to-morrow at twelve."

What Job received beyond the five guineas I do not know-but this is upon record, that the gentleman, a distinguished musical amateur, now boasts of the possession of a real Cremona; and the little Fishmonger has declared his intention of taking a shop in Victoria-road, and commencing business in a first-rate way.

arm.

MAXIMS OF BISHOP MIDDLETON.

Employ leisure in study, and always have some work in

Persevere against discouragements. Keep your temper.

Be

hand. Be punctual and methodical in business, and never procrastinate. Never be in a hurry. Preserve selfpossession, and do not be talked out of a conviction. Rise early, and be an economist of time. Maintain dignity, without the appearance of pride; manner is something with every body, and every thing with some. guarded in discourse, attentive, and slow to speak. Never acquiesce in immoral or pernicious opinions. Be not forward to assign reasons to those who have no right to ask. Think nothing in conduct unimportant and indifferent. Rather set than follow examples. Practise strict temperance; and, in all your transactions, remember the final

account.

LOVE OF CHILDREN.

Tell me not of the trim, precisely arranged homes where there are no children; "where," as the good Gerwall;" tell me not of the never-disturbed nights and man has it, "the fly-flaps always hang straight on the days, of the tranquil, unanxious hearts, where children are not! I care not for these things. God sends children for another purpose than merely to keep up the race-to enlarge our hearts, to make us unselfish, and full of kindly sympathies and affections; to give our souls higher aims, and to call out all our faculties to extended enterprise and exertion; to bring round our fireside bright faces and happy smiles, and loving tender hearts. My soul blesses the great Father every day that he has gladdened the earth with little children!-Hope On! Hope Ever! by Mary Howitt.

SONG OF THE HAPPY MOTHER.
[FROM THE GERMAN.]

Look at me, my pretty boy,
With thy golden ringlets flowing,

Bright blue eyes, and cheeks all glowing:
Was there ever such a one?

No; I'm sure there can be none.

Look at me, my sweetest boy,
Rosy as a summer morning,
Sweet as dew the leaves adorning :
Was there ever such a one?
No; I'm sure there can be none.
Look at me, my kindly boy,
Nor too froward, nor too fearful,
Ever kind and ever cheerful :
Was there ever such a one?
No; I'm sure there can be none.
Look at me, my darling boy,
No sad naughty child could ever
Be so loved and lovely-never.
You may wish for one as fine,
But, good folks, you shan't get mine.
Should a merchant come to buy;
Let him ope his golden coffers,
Would I take his richest offers ?
Never-buy where'er he can,
He should not get my pretty man!
R. S.

He has engaged a man to carry his basket-Mary goes to market by daylight-and Tickle has grown so fat as to have lost much of his disposition towards worrying cats. Job also is decidedly better tempered, and absolutely laughs when he cries "lob-bb-stairs" at the corner. Prosperity has extracted much acid from his nature, and though the expression of his countenance remains the same, there is the evidence of a better spirit in the tones of his voice. In short, pro- pages and contests, have only to give them into the hands of any sperity has improved our little Fishmonger.

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. J 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 title

bookseller, with orders to that effect.

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