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hourly solace through a life protracted to the longest
apan. His harp is preserved in Sir Henry's mansion,
at Downhill, as a relic of its interesting owner."
We regret to learn from Mr Bunting, that, in the
latter days, a considerable number of the harpers par-
took of the dissolute character of Echlin Kane. Of
this sort was Owen Keenan, who, notwithstanding his
being blind, performed some rather singular frolics.
At Killymoon, the residence of a Mr Stewart, he was
detected, Romeo-like, mounting on a ladder to woo a
French governess, and committed to Omagh jail. To
pursue the story in the words of Mr Bunting: "There
was at that time a very good harper, also blind, called
Higgins, who was of a respectable family in Tyrawley,
county Mayo, and who travelled in better style than
most others of the fraternity; he, hearing of Keenan's
mishap, posted down to Omagh, where his appearance
and retinue readily procured him admission to the
jail. The jailor was from home; his wife loved music
and cordials; these harpers, too, knew how to humour
the amiable weakness of one who had once been a
beauty. The result may be imagined. The blind men
stole the keys out of her pocket, while oppressed with
love and music, made the turnkeys drunk, and, while
Higgins stayed behind, like another Orpheus charm-
ing Cerberus with his lyre, Keenan marched out by
moonlight merrily,' with Higgins's boy on his back, to
guide him over a ford of the Strule, by which he took
his route direct to Killymoon again, scaled the walls
once more, and, finally, after another commitment for
the ladder business,' as O'Neill calls it, carried off his
Juliet, and married her."

interesting, both from its real beauty and from asso- |
ciation.

In conclusion, we heartily recommend Mr Bunting's
new work to general favour. To it must every one
resort who would wish to become acquainted with
"the dear, dear, sweet old Irish tunes."

THE EXQUISITE AT COVER.

York Mirror, November 23, 1839, purporting to be extracted from
[We copy the following jeu d'esprit from an article in the New
a forthcoming work, called "Hark-away, or Brushes of Flood and
Field." We do not know whether the work has yet been issued,
and therefore are unable to say who is the author or publisher.]
THE impatient sportsmen, with palpitating hearts,
surrounded the cover, holding tightened reins upon
their ardent horses. All were watching for the glo-
rious "break," with "Tally-ho!" ready to burst from
every longing tongue. The horses, with pricked ears
and glaring eye-balls, pawed the ground and champed
their bits with anticipation of delight.

The personification of tailors', hatters', and per
fumers' advertisements, Mr Charles Olivier, seeing his
friend Colonel Scourfield within a few yards, cantered
his graceful galloway towards him.

"Ah! my dear colonel, how de doo?" inquired Mr Olivier, checking his ambling nag. "I never saw this enimel called a fox. By what means shall I be enabled to distinguish it!"

a

"By his brush," briefly responded the colonel, with
smile.

"Brush! pray what is a brush?"

well-trimmed whiskers round a broom-handle."
"A tail, my dear fellow-a tail resembling your
"How very odd!"

"You cannot mistake him; but surely you have no
intention of following the hunt in that gear?" said
the colonel, laughing.

"Gracious! No. The truth is, I was obliged to say last night that I had never seen a thing of this kind. It appeared Goth-like, and so I determined to venture this morning, and examine what is called, I believe, the throw-off; but I've no intention of being thrown off. Dear me! No. I abominate danger in all shapes," replied Mr Olivier, elegantly kissing his white glove to his friend, and cantering away. He had proceeded but a few yards, when he returned, and said, "If I should see the enimel, what shall I say, colonel !"

"Not a word, if in cover."

"And if the creature comes out?"

"Halloo Tally-ho! as loud as you can," replied the colonel, turning his horse's head away from Mr Olivier, leaving him alone to ponder upon his in

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Mr Charles Olivier placed his glass quietly to his right eye, and, pointing to the topmost branch of a lofty elm, said,

"There it is-I knew him by his tail."

Who shall describe the horror, the astonishment, and disgust of all, upon obeying the direction of the pointed finger, at seeing a squirrel, with his bushy tail curled over his head, peeping at the scene below with indubitable pleasure "at being above all danger."

Laughs, groans, and hisses, proceeded from every quarter. Mr Charles Olivier began to suspect that he had committed some mistake; but, conceiving it politic to appear cool and collected under any accidents or awkwardness, he, with admirable sang froid, continued to look at the "enimel," and occasionally observe that he recognised him by his tail.

"Flog him off!""Duck him in a horse-pond!” "Go home!" "Get your nurse to come with you next time !" Such were the various little pleasant suggestions from the enraged sportsmen, at being subjected to the grievous disappointment occasioned by Mr Charles Olivier's ignorance of natural history.

With fears, which were very excusable under the circumstances, the mistaken innocent felt that he was one too many. If in carving a goose the ill-shaped bird had glided into the lap of the fairest creature in the world, Mr Charles Olivier could have imitated that refined personage who said, upon an occasion of the kind, "Madam, I'll trouble you for that goose." He could even have added, "Pray, don't apologise; such trifles will occur. 39 However collected he would have been under such a trying ordeal, Mr Olivier could not appear so comfortable under the present. "Flogging" and "horse-pond" possessed so much of the nerve-agitating system, that, with chattering teeth, he looked beseechingly, and requested "to be heard."

"Hear him, hear him!" cried the majority, laughing. "No, no! Duck him-duck him!" shouted others, among whom the huntsman's voice was the loudest. As the reporters say, after a noisy squabble in the house, "order was restored," and Mr Olivier thus commenced :

"What did I say?" sharply interrupted his friend, disliking the appeal.

"By his tail, my dear colonel, you certainly said," replied Mr Olivier, with praiseworthy decision. Bursts of laughter.

The harp has not been allowed to decline in Ireland without various efforts being made to keep it alive. A Mr Dungan, resident in Copenhagen, conceived the idea of annual meetings, where prizes should be distributed; and such a meeting, accompanied by a ball, took place in 1781, in Mr Dungan's native town of Granard, in the county of Longford. Seven good harpers attended, and there were five hundred persons at the ball, which was held in the market-house. Perhaps one of the most characteristic circumstances was, that a Mr Burrowes, one of the stewards, and a good judge of music, was so angry at the decision of the premiums, that he thrust his cane through one of the windows. Two other meetings took place; but they then terminated in consequence of private jealousies. In 1792, another meeting of harpers was held at Belfast, when ten attended. This was the last. In 1807, the Belfast Irish Harp Society was established by private subscription, for the support of a teacher, and the tuition of a number of blind boys. The office of preceptor was conferred on Arthur O'Neill, who may "Gentlemen, I certainly have mistaken an enimel be called the last of the old order, being a polite which I learn to be a squirrel, for a fox. I asked my and well-informed person, as well as a very delight-structed duties. friend, Colonel Scourfield, how I should know the fox ful performer: he died in 1818, at the age of eightyfive. The society fell to the ground for want of funds, pearance of a fox-hunter's; a superfine black coat and The dress of Mr Olivier had any thing but the ap--that is, by what feature-and he said" after an existence of only four years. In 1819, another prunella pumps not being generally donned for the society was instituted, chiefly through the liberal sub-casualties of the dashing chase. His steed was slightscriptions of Irish gentlemen in India, and a teacher limbed, showy, and high-spirited, but suited only to was found in one Rainey, described as a nephew of carry a lady or Mr Charles Olivier, who was unaethe Scotch poet Burns, and a very good performer. eustomed to flying gates, or scrambles through prickly At this time, there existed no harpers in Ireland who hedges. had not been pupils of O'Neill in the Belfast academy, so completely had the instrument ceased to be national. For some years this last society has been in a declining state, and we are led by Mr Bunting to understand that it is now extinct. It has been found that the young men educated to the harp can only earn their livelihood by playing in hotels, which is apt to have a bad effect on their character; and the supporters of the society have adopted the notion that their money could be more usefully laid out on other charities. We feel most reluctant to accord with this view of the subject. If we could judge at all from one instance, we would say that an Irish harper may yet be a respectable person. A worthy representative of the fraternity, Mr Patrick Byrne, a pupil of the Belfast Academy, makes a livelihood by playing to parties at Leamington. He is a well-informed, modest, and agreeable man, of perfectly virtuous habits, as well as a delightful performer on his instrument. We had the great pleasure of hearing him about three years ago in Edinburgh, where he attended private parties for a moderate fee, and was generally esteemed. Why may not other blind youths be reared to the same walk in life, and conduct themselves with equal propriety? Any thing rather than that so beautiful an instrument should perish from the face of the earth.

Let it not be supposed that the Irish music may nevertheless be preserved and played on other instruments. No one who has heard the Irish harp could imagine such a thing. When we hear Sir John Stevenson's Irish Melodies played by a young lady on the piano-forte, or even on the pedal harp, we do not hear the same music which O'Cahan, Carolan, and Hempson played. It is as much altered as Homer in the translation of Pope. For the true presentment of this music to modern ears, we require the old sets as preserved in the volumes of Bunting, and the Irish harp played by an Irish harper. This instrument, it must be remembered, is of peculiar structure. It contains about thirty brass wires, the twang of which give the music a striking metallic brilliancy. The high notes are given with the left hand, reserving the more powerful member for the deep chords of the bass. There is moreover at least so we found it in Mr Byrne's playing-a certain national accent, like the tone in speech, given to the music by the Irish performer, which every one must recognise as extremely

The hounds continued to drive the fox from one
desired exit. Reynard had no inclination to quit his
corner of the cover to the other, without effecting the
quarters, although his enemies were in such unenviable
proximity. Every now and then he would come to
the verge of the wood and take a survey; but, disliking
the appearance of the surrounding pink coats, in he
popped again, much to the annoyance of many who
Hattered themselves that now "break" he must, and
the view-halloo ready to escape died into a grumble of
suppressed disappointment.

was certain that out he must come, or submit to the
Every hound now pressed close to the fox, and it
degrading fate of being "chopped"-killed upon his
own hearth, without a meritorious struggle for life.
"Tilly-hoo-oo-oo, Tilly-hoo-00-00-00 to the asto-
nishment of all, came evidently for a broad "Tally-
ho!" from some novice with the view halloo.

"For'ard, for'ard, for'ard!" shouted the huntsman,
galloping towards the spot, with a few of the hounds,
from whence the sound came.

"As if a fox had a tail," said the old huntsman. “I presume, by that observation, that the enimel is without a tail. That is no fault of mine. I was in The colonel also stated that I could not but know the formed by the colonel that the creature had a brush. enimel, although I informed him that I had no idea of the creature's form; for his brush or tail, which appear to be synonymous, bore a strong resemblance to one's whiskers round a broom-handle"

Roars of continued laughter.

"Now, gentlemen, you must admit a strong resem blance exists between that little creature's bushy tail and my whiskers, both in shape and colour," said Mr the exalted squirrel. Charles Olivier with a triumphant smile, pointing to

After loud mirth for some minutes, it was unani mously decided that the speaker had satisfactorily justified himself. The sportsmen good-humouredly shook Mr Olivier by the hand, rather too roughly, perhaps, for his delicate fingers, and some said with courtesy that they'd "back him against the parson for an argument."

"Come away, come away!" bawled the whipper-in,
cracking his whip for the remainder to leave the cover"
and join the huntsman.

The horn winded a cheering "Hark-forward!”.
every body said; "let them get at it."
horses reared and danced with delight. "Hold hard,"

"Now for luck, and no checks," said one.
"He'll go for Sydenham earths," said another.
"Not he. The wind's wrong," suggested a third.
"A cool hundred that he makes for Ealing," a
fourth offered to bet.

The huntsman arrived at the place where "Tilly-
hoo-oo" proceeded from, and there sat Mr Charles
Olivier, perseveringly chaunting "Tilly-hoo." An
observation about a post sometimes points out the
road," undoubtedly came from the lips of the old
huntsman as he saw the source from whence it came.
Rising in his stirrups, he took off his cap and cheered
the hounds to pick up the scent.

distended nostrils, but no response was given. They
Wagging their tails, they snuffed the earth with
ran to and fro, each endeavouring "to snatch the
track, and lead the willing pack," but all to no purpose.
puzzled by the hounds being at fault.
"Where did he break, sir?" inquired the huntsman,

"Gracious me! Close where you stand, the enimel

"Try-back, try-back," hallooed the huntsman, and away the hounds went to pick up the lost scent. Hark back, Musical hark back, I tell ye !"-off" galloped the old favourite leader to obey the mandate. In a few moments "Tally-ho" rang from a corner of the cover, from which burst a splendid fox, closely followed by the crying Musical.

"For'ard, hark for'ard-hark to Musical!" shouted the huntsman: The horn was blown; the whipper-in hurried on with the tail hounds, and, in an instant, on rushed the pursuing and pursued the many for sport, the one for life.

to his courser, as the animal caught some of the enthu "Gracious me! Be quiet," said Mr Charles Olivier siasm of the sport. "I certainly-shall not be able to hold him." Our hero was correct in this opinion; for his horse pulled upon his hands, unused to exertion, lowed his own inclination by galloping after the others, so violently that, after a few useless struggles, he folto the great discomfiture of his rider.

will not attempt to leap that wall!" exclaimed Charles "What shall I do what shall I do? He surely Olivier, as they neared one of tolerable altitude. Still the resolute horse approached it with a determined manner. "Heavens ! I certainly shall be off!" said the rider, clinging to the pommel of the saddle with pertinacity; "I certainly shall." They were within

a fow strides of the wall, when the horse's ideas corresponded with his master's, that he should not at tempt it. Throwing himself suddenly upon his hocks, the careful animal succeeded in preventing any acei dent to himself by stopping on the right side of the barrier. This quick decision, however, did not hinder Mr Charles Olivier from enjoying a leap. The im petus had the effect of sending him in a straight line over the horse's ears clean over the wall, like the stick of a rocket, head-foremost into a duck-pond on the opposite side.

Crash, splash, went the luckless horseman-quack, quack, quack, screamed the ducks. "Gracious me bubbled from the lips of Mr Charles Olivier, as he crawled from the water and the inire; "I-I-I never will see another fox-hunt as long as I breathe."

STEAM-CARRIAGES OF M. DIETZ.

THE attempts to run steam-carriages on common roads in this country have generally failed in practice, chiefly, we believe, from the injury caused to the machinery by jolting over the ordinary rough materials of which our thoroughfares are composed, and the

the newspapers, a steam-carriage, the invention of great expense for fuel. Lately, as we understand from Colonel Macerone, has been successfully run in experimental trips in the neighbourhood of London; and, according to the French press, similar success has attended the running of steam-carriages, the invention of a M. Dietz, in the neighbourhood of Paris. While attention is directed to this subject, it may be useful to offer a few particulars respecting M. Deitz's carriages, from the Reports of the Academy of Sciences and Academy of Industry.

ance of the extra wheels, which kept the engine in the
equilibrium. This principle does not indeed apply to
the carriages of the train; but as they are so con-
structed as to present little danger of upsetting, the
deficiency is of no importance; and if it were found to
be so, it would be very easy to extend the principle to
the whole of them. The power of returning without
danger from the sides of the road to the pavement, is
one of great value in France, for nine accidents out of
ten which happen in the ordinary coach-travelling,
arise from the difficulty of regaining the paré, without
losing the equilibrium. On many roads the pavé is
too narrow for two diligences to run abreast, and when
they meet each other, one of the two, if not both, must
deviate a little from the centre. The pavé is very
much rounded for the purpose of keeping it dry; and
in winter the sides of the road are loose and rotten, so
that the wheels sink several inches below the edge of
the paved portion of the road. The danger, therefore,
in regaining it is very great. If M. Ďietz had not
obviated it by his ingenious contrivance, not only
would his machinery be subject to shocks, which would
render frequent repairs necessary, but the engine itself
would be very liable to upset.

All the evidence, as far as it goes, appears favourable
utility, as in all such cases, is still to be given by carry
to the invention of M. Dietz; but the proof of its
ing the invention into practical and daily operation.

THE RETURN.
[BY MRS HEMANS.]

"Art thou come with the heart of thy childhood back,
The free, the pure, the kind?"

So murmured the trees in my homeward track,
As they played to the mountain wind.
"Hast thou been true to thine early love?"
Whispered my native streams,

"Doth the spirit reared amidst hill and grove,
Still revere its first high dreams?"
"Hast thou borne in thy bosom the holy prayer
Of the child in his parent halls?"

Thus breathed a voice on the thrilling air,
From the old ancestral walls.

"Has thou kept thy faith with the faithful dead,
Whose place of rest is nigh?

With the father's blessing o'er thee shed?
With the mother's trusting eye?"

Then my tears gush'd forth in sudden rain,
As I answered-“ Oh, ye shades!

I bring not my childhood's heart again

To the freedom of your glades!

M. Dietz's carriage has eight wheels, two of which are larger than the other six, and give the impulsion. The six smaller wheels rise and fall according to the irregularity of the ground, and at the same time assist in bearing the weight of the carriage, and in equalising its pressure, &c. The wheels, instead of having iron tires, are bound with wood, under which there is a lining of cork, in order still further to deaden the noise and prevent shocks which would otherwise derange the mechanism of the carriage. This wooden binding is secured by an iron circle, which does not touch the ground, and is so contrived as to be exceedingly durable. Another improvement of M. Dietz is a mechanism by which all the carriages of the train which are drawn by the engine (for he does not propose to carry either goods or passengers in the steamcarriage itself) are made to follow in the precise line of the wheels of the steam-carriage, which is so regulated by the six smaller or flexible wheels, acted upon by an endless pulley chain, that they describe any curve at the will of the conductor. Of the moving power of the engine, the report of the Academy of Industry says, "According to Colonel Macerone, whose calculations are not far from the truth, it appears certain, 1st, that to draw a weight along an iron railway, in a horizontal-Works of Mrs Hemans. line, requires a force equal to a two hundred and fortieth part of the weight to be moved; 2dly, that to move this weight along a horizontal line, the force of traction must be carried to a twelfth of this weight;

I have turn'd from my first pure love aside,
Oh, bright rejoicing streams!

Light after light in my soul hath died,
The early, glorious dreams!

And the holy prayer from my thoughts hath pass'd,
The prayer at my mother's knee-

Darken'd and troubled I come at last,
Thou home of my boyish glee!

But I bear from my childhood a gift of tears,
To soften and atone;

And, oh, ye scenes of those blessed years!
They shall make me again your own.”

ALL DIFFICULTIES MAY BE OVERCOME.

There are few difficulties that hold out against real

and active amusements seldom tire us. Helvetius owns

EDITORIAL NOTE.
ORIGINALITY OF THE JOURNAL.

WE lately received a letter from Newcastle, contain-
ing, first, the general inquiry whether the articles at
the beginning of the various numbers of the Journal
were generally our own, and contained our own
opinions, or were copied, and, next, the special inquiry
(supposing we did not choose to answer the first), if
the article at the beginning of No. 445 were original.
Could there be any doubt more mortifying to a poor
labourer in the field of letters than what is here
expressed? For eight years and upwards we have
been leading a life of incessant toil, composing literary
articles of various kinds, some of them descriptive, in
a novel style, of society and manners in the middle
ranks, others philosophical and scientific, the very
least important being careful compilations, often from
not very accessible sources; and, after all, “a reader,"
a person who has perhaps seen every number of the
work as yet published, is not sure but that our very
results of a lifetime spent chiefly in study, and in
best, or at least most elaborate, papers are taken
without acknowledgment from some other work. The

industrious observation of human character, have been diffused throughout the 450 numbers of this work, not to speak of the many articles arising from the special labour of the time when they were composed; and, after all, it is surmised that the whole work is as much a compilation as a school collection. Three individuals spend nearly their whole time in preparing the work, and there are occasional contributions by others; many single papers requiring, for the collection of information, the composition, and the correction, three, four, and five days; and, when all this pains is taken by so many persons to produce a work sold far beneath any former standard of price, the reader languidly asks if we ever give anything original! If we were of the stuff to be disheartened by anything, we might certainly be so on thus learning that our labours are only remunerative in a business point of view, but do nothing in the way of creating confidence or respect, so that merely because we publish in a limited quantity at a limited price, we are supposed capable of, week after week, and year after year, holding forth selected matter with the usual appearances of that which is original.

It is not of course likely that all our readers are under the very disrespectful impression which seems to affect our Newcastle correspondent. But, from other revelations made to us, we fear that it is the belief of a great number, or at least that many are habitually doubtful of the originality of many of the articles presented without marks of quotation in the 3dly, that to move this weight upon a common road, attacks; they fly, like the visible horizon, before those Journal. For instance, we were lately asked by a lady with a rise of one foot in twelve, or eight degrees, who advance. A passionate desire and unwearied will in London, who reads our Journal regularly, "from can perform impossibilities, or what seem to be such to what book of Mrs Hall's it was that we extracted her which appears to be the greatest ascent accomplished the cold and the feeble. If we do but go on, some unby any of the diligences in France, the force of tracseen path will open upon the hills. We must not allow very pretty tales ;" and she was very much surprised tion, whether on an iron railway or on common roads, ourselves to be discouraged by the apparent dispropor- to be told that the tales were original, being written must be augmented by one-twelfth of the total weight tion between the result of single efforts and the magnitude expressly for our work, and paid for accordingly. It beyond what would be necessary on a horizontal line. of the obstacles to be encountered. Nothing good or now therefore becomes necessary to reiterate a stateIt results, therefore, that it is not necessary on com- great is to be obtained without courage and industry; mon roads to do more than double the power of trac- but courage and industry might have sunk in despair, ment more than once made, that all the articles of tion for an elevation of eight degrees on common roads, and the world must have remained unornamented and the Journal are really and truly original composition, whereas on a railway we must not merely double the unimproved, if men had nicely compared the effect of a excepting in the comparatively rare instances where primitive force, but add to it a power equivalent to a single stroke of the chisel with the pyramid to be raised, twelfth of the weight which is to be set in action. To or of a single impression of the spade with the mountain it is otherwise expressed-in other words, every article fulfil the first condition, M. Dietz, proposing to draw to be levelled. All exertion, too, is in itself delightful, is original which is not marked as extracted or selected only from thirty to forty thousand pounds, has made that he could hardly listen to a concert for two hours, circulation of the work (72,000) should banish the matter. A little reflection on the very extensive his engine of thirty horse power, calculating the power though he could play on an instrument all day long. The false notion that, because the Journal is cheap, it canof traction of the horse at one hundred and fifty pounds chase, we know, has always been the favourite amuseat a speed of two hundred feet per minute; conse ment of kings and nobles. Not only fame and fortune, not be composed in any part of original matter: it quently, he has a force capable of surmounting every but pleasure, is to be earned. Efforts, it must not be ought to be seen that its cheapness, leading to such obstacle, and is at the same time able in case of neces- forgotten, are as indispensable as desires. The globe is sity to double the power by a simple combination of not to be circumnavigated by one wind. We should an extraordinary sale, is, above all other things, the pulleys." never do nothing. "It is better to wear out than to rust reason for its containing original matter, and that of The report then goes on to enumerate the arrange-out," says Bishop Cumberland. There will be time the best kind which money can procure in the country. ments made by the inventor for the regular supply enough to repose in the grave," said Nicole to Pascal. We trust that no one will do us the further injustice of steam by the conductor, so as to increase or dimi. In truth, the proper rest for man is change of occupation. to suppose, from what is here said, that we are unduly able importance of early industry, since in youth habits anxious on the score of literary reputation. We As a young man, you should be mindful of the unspeakare easily formed, and there is time to recover from de- might point to the whole history of this work, its fects. An Italian sonnet, justly as well as elegantly, compares procrastination to the folly of a traveller who being scarcely ever advertised, its rare allusions to its pursues a brook till it widens into a river, and is lost in editors or writers, the anonymity of all its articles, the sea. The toils as well as risks of an active life are and its unswerving adherence to its original plan, for commonly overrated, so much may be done by the dili-proof that this has been a matter to which little atgent use of ordinary opportunities; but they must not tention has been paid. At the same time it could not always be waited for. We must not only strike the iron while it is hot, but till "it is made hot." Herschel, the but appear to us extremely hard, if a labour which, great astronomer, declares that ninety or one hundred more than any other, exhausts the human energies, hours, clear enough for observations, cannot be called an and which, to be pursued in an efficient manner, calls productive year. The lazy, the dissipated, and the for nearly a complete denial of all those social pleathem in the course. They must bring down their prefearful, should patiently see the active and the bold pass sures which the humblest enjoy, were to pass for a tensions to the level of their talents. Those who have long series of years altogether unappreciated by those not energy to work must learn to be humble, and should who may be presumed to profit by it. not vainly hope to unite the incompatible enjoyments of indolence and enterprise, of ambition and self-indulgence.

nish it instantaneously, according to the nature of the
ground, and for checking the engine at its greatest
speed without shock or danger. In this description,
however, there is little new to the English reader who
has turned his attention to the construction of steam
carriages on commınım vonds in England. The great
merit of the invention of M. Dieta in avoiding the
expensiya repairs which have hitherto been the
greatest olennels to the use of steam carriages on the
Common roads in England. A commission from each
wandering meddrinjanied M. Diete in one of his experi-
mandal journeys from Paris to 151 Cormain, and report
host it was performed at the rate of ten miles an hour,
wwd Khak the ball between the Ferg and Mt Germain,
which be one of the steepest within twenty miles of
Paris, was aankled in less time than is occupied by
the diupsnes They akute, also, that when the steam
**ckings ww* Putpelled to deviate from the paved
4 to the angered sides, the return was accomplished trust that my young friends will never attempt to re-
teruk diffaulty or danger, by the ingenious contriv-concile them.-Sharp's Letters and Essays.

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.

[graphic]

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE," "CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

NUMBER 452.

"THE WORLD."

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1840.

THERE is a great number of charges of old standing against the world, from which each accuser regularly excepts himself. For instance, it is a very censorious world. So you will find your friend Mrs Thompson calling it every day in her life, seeing that she is a widow upon whom many set eyes of watchfulness, lest some day she should steal unperceived into a second matrimonial engagement. Mrs Thompson does not recollect that she occasionally takes observations of the goings on of the Misses Smith, a band of young milliners, who live in a third floor opposite to her. Were you to call upon these same Misses Smith, you would probably find them also complaining that it is a censorious world-meaning that they feel themselves exposed to Mrs Thompson's observation, but altogether unconscious that they talk nothing but scandal for at least three hours every day. So also Mrs Thompson speaks of it as an evil-thinking world, the worst construction being put by it upon every thing that is not quite as clear as daylight. She means that she has heard of her attentions to Mrs Johnson, who has so many fine young sons, being misunderstood. She does not say anything of her having conjectured that her maid Sukey was keeping improper company, in consequence of seeing her walking one day with a young man, who proved to be her brother, a sailor newly returned from a long voyage.

The world is also a cold and heartless world. Every one becomes convinced of this, when, falling into a few trifling difficulties, he goes about making an endeavour to borrow a hundred pounds. Mr Peregrine Harmnone was in these circumstances, and thought he had nothing more to do than to call on his friends Wilson and Jackson for the amount. But his friends had no money to spare. He forthwith declaimed against the heartlessness of the world, altogether forgetting that, when poor Robson applied to him last year for a like favour, he found himself unfortunately very low in account with his banker. So also, when Mr Abraham Sandy, merchant in Liverpool, failed in business, and applied to a few houses with which he used to be on very good terms, for renewed credit, he found himself rather coolly received, and his orders civilly declined. Remembering how friendly the partners in all those cases had once been, he began to talk of the heartlessness of the world, never once adverting to the fact that, not six months before, he had declined being a security for a credit to his own brother-in-law. Mr Sandy's daughters, finding he was unable to recommence business, very properly resolved to be no burden to him; but a year had not elapsed before they also began to talk of the coldness and heartlessness of the world, having found that, as family instructresses amongst strangers, they were not objects of so flattering a regard as they had been when they were thought to be young ladies of fortune, and dispensed the hospitalities of their father's elegant home. It quite escaped the recollection of these young ladies that, when an orphan cousin of theirs came a few years before to live with them, they had not been more than sufficiently kind to her, always taking care to let gentlemen know that she was only a person whom their father had been pleased to take into his house, because she had been left without a penny, and also taking specially good care that she never accompanied them to the balls at which they showed off amongst the gayest of the gay. Mr Sandy now lived in a poor lodging, where he was never visited by any of the friends who used to be delighted to wait upon him at his handsome villa two miles out of town. The world, he sighed to think, was but a summer friend.

All was well so long as he could give good entertainments. He was then a man of some account. It was a matter of pride to most to have it to say that they had been at his parties. But now where were all those swallow-like friends-all gone! Alas, what is friendship? he thought

"A shade that follows wealth and fame,

But leaves the wretch to weep."

Mr Sandy did not remember that, after his friend Major Tomkins lost nearly all his Indian fortune by the failure of a Calcutta bank, and ceased to give dinners, he almost forgot that there was such a person in the world, although the major had oftener than once insinuated how happy he should be to see him and his daughters over a quiet game at whist.

The world is a very deceitful world. Mrs Higgins became deeply impressed with this idea, when she discovered that Miss Tims, who had come about her as a friend for several years, and seemed sincerely attached to her, made a practice of telling all her secrets and ridiculing her in every point. Mrs Higgins forgot that she had not a single friend about whose faults she did not speak quite candidly, on all occasions when they were not themselves present. The world is also very encious. Mr Dobson, of the Custom-house, found it so, when he ascended to the dignity of comptroller, forgetting that he had himself envied his predecessor in the office for the better part of twenty years. The same sentiment was deeply impressed on Mrs Dobson, when she heard that her new gown of gros-de-Naples had been spitefully spoken of by her old friend Mrs Pyne; Mrs Dobson being totally oblivious that, during the days of her humbler fortune, she had never seen a single dress of superior elegance at church, which she did not think would be far more suitable on herself than on the person who wore it. Amongst all the bad qualities, however, that attach to the world, in the eyes of all but the speakers, there is none so much spoken of as its ingratitude. This is one of the most notorious of its alleged failings. Instances are here out of the question. Ask any one if he ever finds any gratitude on earth, and he will answer in the negative, making only a mental exception in favour of himself, whom he believes to be wholly incapable of so black an offence as that of forgetting or wilfully overlooking a kind turn or benefaction from a neighbour.

There surely is some strange falsity at the bottom of these common forms of speech. It is not, of course, to be denied that censoriousness, evil thinking, deceitfulness, envy, and other such bad things, exist, and that to a considerable extent. It is also by no means uncommon to see reduced merchants sink in credit, and impoverished families cease to be so much courted as they were in the days of their prosperity. But the vices of censoriousness, deceitfulness, envy, &c., are faults which beset human nature in general; the impoverished decline into the condition of those who were always poor, by an irresistible tendency in our social system; and if there is not much gratitude in the world, may it not be owing to this-that when favours are conferred, there is usually an expectation of future deference, against which some principle common to all obliged parties hastens to rebel, and which is therefore never to be satisfied? Such faults, as far as they are faults, attach to all. Let almost any human being be in the circumstances proper for bringing them out, and out they will come. They are sentiments and acts liable to occur when human beings are in a certain relation to each other, and which no one can hope altogether to avoid. How strange, then, for any one person to speak of them as things attaching to all besides himself!

PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.

There are some other ways of talking of the world, which seem not quite free from similar absurdity. One often hears of its being difficult to "get on in the world." Now, the world is a common good, of which every person gets a share proportioned to his abilities, industry, the judgment he may have exercised in selecting a branch of employment, and the accidents of fortune to which he, like all other persons, is liable. If any individual, therefore, finds more than the usual difficulty, it must be from some inconsistency between these things and the extent of his wishes. He has had the same chance as the rest; his woes and weals, his fortunes and misfortunes, are exactly such as would have befallen any other person in precisely the same circumstances, and with precisely the same qualities as himself. He has therefore no right cause to find fault with the world, though it may be quite possible that, if he were carefully to inquire, he might find some in the history of his own actings with regard to circumstances, or his expectations and desires, as contrasted with what his abilities and fortune have brought to him. Again, it is not uncommon, when some instance of over-reaching is mentioned, to hear the remark, "Ay, it is the way of the world." There is here either a very loose observation of human nature, great prejudice, or an indifference to moral actions, for such things are only the way of a part of the world, and that but a small part, in most enlightened countries. Every one must have remarked how different minds consider the spirit of the world in various lights, according to the bent of their own nature. The ardent divine deems it a spirit indifferent to religion. The indifferent think it fanatical and bigoted. Morose and reserved persons consider it as given up to gaiety and frivolity. The gay are perpetually complaining that it is dull and stupid. The refined and unselfish think it sordid. No one of these suppositions is entirely true; they are only true in some part. They would never be affirmed as wholly true, were it not for certain habitual feelings in the minds of those who affirm them. The human mind is a cluster of various faculties, each of which seeks in the world for its appropriate gratification; and the employments of men are still more various than their faculties. Amidst such a bewildering variety of thoughts, desires, and actions, how can any one say that the spirit of the world is of any one special character whatever? Yet, attributing general characteristics to the world is a thing of daily Occurrence. We lately read somewhere, that if Walter Scott had not had the ambition to be a great man "of the world's kind," he might have ended his life more happily. What can be the meaning of this? How could any one be what is called great, without having the praises of a pretty large section (at least) of the world. If it were said that the great novelist aimed too exclusively at being a man of wealth and title, the remark would be just, for such certainly was a fatal ambition in Scott. But if this is what is meant by being a great man after the world's fashion, we would deny the justice of the remark. The admiration or

greatness which Scott acquired by literature was so much more than any he could gain by merely being a baronet and the owner of an estate, that the two are not worthy of being spoken of in the same day. For one that would have admired the greatness of a Roxburghshire country gentleman, there must have been thousands to admire the unprecedented novelist. We would therefore deny that it was the world's kind of greatness which he aimed at, but only that of a limited class in a limited district.

Upon the whole, there is extremely little rationality in sweeping charges, or depreciatory expressions,

a few strides of the wall, when the horse's ideas corresponded with his master's, that he should not attempt it. Throwing himself suddenly upon his hocks, the careful animal succeeded in preventing any accident to himself by stopping on the right side of the barrier. This quick decision, however, did not hinder Mr Charles Olivier from enjoying a leap. The impetus had the effect of sending him in a straight line over the horse's ears clean over the wall, like the stick of a rocket, head-foremost into a duck-pond on the opposite side.

Crash, splash, went the luckless horseman-quack, quack, quack, screamed the ducks. "Gracious me!" bubbled from the lips of Mr Charles Olivier, as he crawled from the water and the mire; "I-I-I never will see another fox-hunt as long as I breathe."

STEAM-CARRIAGES OF M. DIETZ.

ance of the extra wheels, which kept the engine in the
equilibrium. This principle does not indeed apply to
the carriages of the train; but as they are so con-
structed as to present little danger of upsetting, the
deficiency is of no importance; and if it were found to
be so, it would be very easy to extend the principle to
the whole of them. The power of returning without
danger from the sides of the road to the pavement, is
one of great value in France, for nine accidents out of
ten which happen in the ordinary coach-travelling,
arise from the difficulty of regaining the paré, without
losing the equilibrium. On many roads the pavé is
too narrow for two diligences to run abreast, and when
they meet each other, one of the two, if not both, must
deviate a little from the centre. The pavé is very
much rounded for the purpose of keeping it dry; and
in winter the sides of the road are loose and rotten, so
that the wheels sink several inches below the edge of
the paved portion of the road. The danger, therefore,
in regaining it is very great. If M. Dietz had not
obviated it by his ingenious contrivance, not only
would his machinery be subject to shocks, which would
render frequent repairs necessary, but the engine itself
would be very liable to upset.

EDITORIAL NOTE.

ORIGINALITY OF THE JOURNAL.

WE lately received a letter from Newcastle, containing, first, the general inquiry whether the articles at the beginning of the various numbers of the Journal were generally our own, and contained our own opinions, or were copied, and, next, the special inquiry (supposing we did not choose to answer the first), if the article at the beginning of No. 445 were original. Could there be any doubt more mortifying to a poor labourer in the field of letters than what is here expressed? For eight years and upwards we have been leading a life of incessant toil, composing literary articles of various kinds, some of them descriptive, in a novel style, of society and manners in the middle ranks, others philosophical and scientific, the very least important being careful compilations, often from not very accessible sources; and, after all, “a reader," a person who has perhaps seen every number of the work as yet published, is not sure but that our very All the evidence, as far as it goes, appears favourable to the invention of M. Dietz; but the proof of its best, or at least most elaborate, papers are taken utility, as in all such cases, is still to be given by carry-results of a lifetime spent chiefly in study, and in without acknowledgment from some other work. The

THE attempts to run steam-carriages on common roads
in this country have generally failed in practice,
chiefly, we believe, from the injury caused to the ma-
chinery by jolting over the ordinary rough materials
of which our thoroughfares are composed, and the
great expense for fuel. Lately, as we understand from
the newspapers, a steam-carriage, the invention of
Colonel Macerone, has been successfully run in experi-ing the invention into practical and daily operation.
mental trips in the neighbourhood of London; and,
according to the French press, similar success has
attended the running of steam-carriages, the invention
of a M. Dietz, in the neighbourhood of Paris. While
attention is directed to this subject, it may be useful
to offer a few particulars respecting M. Deitz's car-
riages, from the Reports of the Academy of Sciences
and Academy of Industry.

THE RETURN.

[BY MRS HEMANS.]

"Art thou come with the heart of thy childhood back,
The free, the pure, the kind?"

So murmured the trees in my homeward track,
As they played to the mountain wind.
"Hast thou been true to thine early love?"
Whispered my native streams,

"Doth the spirit reared amidst hill and grove,
Still revere its first high dreams?"

"Hast thou borne in thy bosom the holy prayer
Of the child in his parent halls ?"

Thus breathed a voice on the thrilling air,
From the old ancestral walls.

"Has thou kept thy faith with the faithful dead,
Whose place of rest is nigh?

With the father's blessing o'er thee shed?
With the mother's trusting eye?"

Then my tears gush'd forth in sudden rain,
As I answered-" Oh, ye shades!

I bring not my childhood's heart again

To the freedom of your glades!

I have turn'd from my first pure love aside,
Oh, bright rejoicing streams!

Light after light in my soul hath died,
The early, glorious dreams!

And the holy prayer from my thoughts hath pass'd,
The prayer at my mother's knee-

Darken'd and troubled I come at last,
Thou home of my boyish glee!

But I bear from my childhood a gift of tears,
To soften and atone;

And, oh, ye scenes of those blessed years!
They shall make me again your own."
-Works of Mrs Hemans.

ALL DIFFICULTIES MAY BE OVERCOME.
There are few difficulties that hold out against real

industrious observation of human character, have been diffused throughout the 450 numbers of this work, not to speak of the many articles arising from the special labour of the time when they were composed; and, after all, it is surmised that the whole work is as much a compilation as a school collection. Three individuals spend nearly their whole time in preparing the work, and there are occasional contributions by others; many single papers requiring, for the collection of information, the composition, and the correction, three, four, and five days; and, when all this pains is taken by so many persons to produce a work sold far beneath any former standard of price, the reader languidly asks if we ever give anything original! If we were of the stuff to be disheartened by anything, we might certainly be so on thus learning that our labours are only remunerative in a business point of view, but do nothing in the way of creating confidence or respect, so that merely because we publish in a limited quantity at a limited price, we are supposed capable of, week after week, and year after year, holding forth selected matter with the usual appearances of that which is original.

It is not of course likely that all our readers are under the very disrespectful impression which seems to affect our Newcastle correspondent. But, from other revelations made to us, we fear that it is the belief of a great number, or at least that many are habitually doubtful of the originality of many of the articles presented without marks of quotation in the Journal. For instance, we were lately asked by a lady in London, who reads our Journal regularly, "from what book of Mrs Hall's it was that we extracted her

M. Dietz's carriage has eight wheels, two of which are larger than the other six, and give the impulsion. The six smaller wheels rise and fall according to the irregularity of the ground, and at the same time assist in bearing the weight of the carriage, and in equalising its pressure, &c. The wheels, instead of having iron tires, are bound with wood, under which there is a lining of cork, in order still further to deaden the noise and prevent shocks which would otherwise derange the mechanism of the carriage. This wooden binding is secured by an iron circle, which does not touch the ground, and is so contrived as to be exceedingly durable. Another improvement of M. Dietz is a mechanism by which all the carriages of the train which are drawn by the engine (for he does not propose to carry either goods or passengers in the steamcarriage itself) are made to follow in the precise line of the wheels of the steam-carriage, which is so regulated by the six smaller or flexible wheels, acted upon by an endless pulley chain, that they describe any curve at the will of the conductor. Of the moving power of the engine, the report of the Academy of Industry says, "According to Colonel Macerone, whose calculations are not far from the truth, it appears certain, 1st, that to draw a weight along an iron railway, in a horizontal line, requires a force equal to a two hundred and fortieth part of the weight to be moved; 2dly, that to move this weight along a horizontal line, the force of traction must be carried to a twelfth of this weight; 3dly, that to move this weight upon a common road, attacks; they fly, like the visible horizon, before those with a rise of one foot in twelve, or eight degrees, who advance. A passionate desire and unwearied will which appears to be the greatest ascent accomplished the cold and the feeble. If we do but go on, some uncan perform impossibilities, or what seem to be such to by any of the diligences in France, the force of trac-seen path will open upon the hills. We must not allow tion, whether on an iron railway or on common roads, ourselves to be discouraged by the apparent dispropormust be augmented by one-twelfth of the total weight tion between the result of single efforts and the magnitude beyond what would be necessary on a horizontal line. of the obstacles to be encountered. Nothing good or It results, therefore, that it is not necessary on com- great is to be obtained without courage and industry; mon roads to do more than double the power of trac- but courage and industry might have sunk in despair, tion for an elevation of eight degrees on common roads, and the world must have remained unornamented and whereas on a railway we must not merely double the unimproved, if men had nicely compared the effect of a primitive force, but add to it a power equivalent to a single stroke of the chisel with the pyramid to be raised, twelfth of the weight which is to be set in action. To or of a single impression of the spade with the mountain fulfil the first condition, M. Dietz, proposing to draw to be levelled. All exertion, too, is in itself delightful, only from thirty to forty thousand pounds, has made and active amusements seldom tire us. Helvetius owns his engine of thirty horse power, calculating the power though he could play on an instrument all day long. The that he could hardly listen to a concert for two hours, of traction of the horse at one hundred and fifty pounds chase, we know, has always been the favourite amuseat a speed of two hundred feet per minute; consement of kings and nobles. Not only fame and fortune, quently, he has a force capable of surmounting every but pleasure, is to be earned. Efforts, it must not be obstacle, and is at the same time able in case of neces- forgotten, are as indispensable as desires. The globe is sity to double the power by a simple combination of not to be circumnavigated by one wind. We should pulleys." never do nothing. "It is better to wear out than to rust The report then goes on to enumerate the arrange-out," says Bishop Cumberland. "There will be time ments made by the inventor for the regular supply enough to repose in the grave," said Nicole to Pascal. We trust that no one will do us the further injustice of steam by the conductor, so as to increase or dimi- In truth, the proper rest for man is change of occupation. nish it instantaneously, according to the nature of the able importance of early industry, since in youth habits anxious on the score of literary reputation. We As a young man, you should be mindful of the unspeak- to suppose, from what is here said, that we are unduly ground, and for checking the engine at its greatest are easily formed, and there is time to recover from de- might point to the whole history of this work, its speed without shock or danger. In this description, fects. An Italian sonnet, justly as well as elegantly, however, there is little new to the English reader who compares procrastination to the folly of a traveller who being scarcely ever advertised, its rare allusions to its has turned his attention to the construction of steam- pursues a brook till it widens into a river, and is lost in editors or writers, the anonymity of all its articles, carriages on common roads in England. The great the sea. The toils as well as risks of an active life are and its unswerving adherence to its original plan, for merit of the invention of M. Dietz is avoiding the commonly overrated, so much may be done by the dili-proof that this has been a matter to which little atexpensive repairs which have hitherto been the gent use of ordinary opportunities; but they must not greatest obstacle to the use of steam-carriages on the always be waited for. We must not only strike the iron common roads in England. A commission from each while it is hot, but till "it is made hot." Herschel, the academy accompanied M. Dietz in one of his experi- great astronomer, declares that ninety or one hundred mental journeys from Paris to St Germain, and report hours, clear enough for observations, cannot be called an that it was performed at the rate of ten miles an hour, unproductive year. The lazy, the dissipated, and the and that the hill between the Pecq and St Germain, them in the course. They must bring down their fearful, should patiently see the active and the bold pass which is one of the steepest within twenty miles of tensions to the level of their talents. Those who have Paris, was ascended in less time than is occupied by not energy to work must learn to be humble, and should the diligence. They state, also, that when the steam- not vainly hope to unite the incompatible enjoyments of carriage was compelled to deviate from the paved indolence and enterprise, of ambition and self-indulgence. road to the unpaved sides, the return was accomplished I trust that my young friends will never attempt to rewithout difficulty or danger, by the ingenious contriv-concile them.-Sharp's Letters and Essays.

pre

very pretty tales ;" and she was very much surprised to be told that the tales were original, being written expressly for our work, and paid for accordingly. It now therefore becomes necessary to reiterate a statement more than once made, that all the articles of the Journal are really and truly original composition, excepting in the comparatively rare instances where it is otherwise expressed in other words, every article is original which is not marked as extracted or selected matter. A little reflection on the very extensive false notion that, because the Journal is cheap, it cancirculation of the work (72,000) should banish the not be composed in any part of original matter: it ought to be seen that its cheapness, leading to such an extraordinary sale, is, above all other things, the reason for its containing original matter, and that of the best kind which money can procure in the country.

tention has been paid. At the same time it could not but appear to us extremely hard, if a labour which, more than any other, exhausts the human energies, and which, to be pursued in an efficient manner, calls for nearly a complete denial of all those social pleasures which the humblest enjoy, were to pass for a long series of years altogether unappreciated by those who may be presumed to profit by it.

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.

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CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE," "CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

NUMBER 452.

"THE WORLD."

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1840.

THERE is a great number of charges of old standing against the world, from which each accuser regularly excepts himself. For instance, it is a very censorious world. So you will find your friend Mrs Thompson calling it every day in her life, seeing that she is a widow upon whom many set eyes of watchfulness, lest some day she should steal unperceived into a second matrimonial engagement. Mrs Thompson does not recollect that she occasionally takes observations of the goings on of the Misses Smith, a band of young milliners, who live in a third floor opposite to her. Were you to call upon these same Misses Smith, you would probably find them also complaining that it is a censorious world-meaning that they feel themselves exposed to Mrs Thompson's observation, but altogether unconscious that they talk nothing but scandal for at least three hours every day. So also Mrs Thompson speaks of it as an evil-thinking world, the worst construction being put by it upon every thing that is not quite as clear as daylight. She means that she has heard of her attentions to Mrs Johnson, who has so many fine young sons, being misunderstood. She does not say anything of her having conjectured that her maid Sukey was keeping improper company, in consequence of seeing her walking one day with a young man, who proved to be her brother, a sailor newly returned from a long voyage.

The world is also a cold and heartless world. Every one becomes convinced of this, when, falling into a few trifling difficulties, he goes about making an endeavour to borrow a hundred pounds. Mr Peregrine Harmnone was in these circumstances, and thought he had nothing more to do than to call on his friends Wilson and Jackson for the amount. But his friends had no money to spare. He forthwith declaimed against the heartlessness of the world, altogether forgetting that, when poor Robson applied to him last year for a like favour, he found himself unfortunately very low in account with his banker. So also, when Mr Abraham Sandy, merchant in Liverpool, failed in business, and applied to a few houses with which he used to be on very good terms, for renewed credit, he found himself rather coolly received, and his orders civilly declined. Remembering how friendly the partners in all those cases had once been, he began to talk of the heartlessness of the world, never once adverting to the fact that, not six months before, he had declined being a security for a credit to his own brother-in-law. Mr Sandy's daughters, finding he was unable to recommence business, very properly resolved to be no burden to him; but a year had not elapsed before they also began to talk of the coldness and heartlessness of the world, having found that, as family instructresses amongst strangers, they were not objects of so flattering a regard as they had been when they were thought to be young ladies of fortune, and dispensed the hospitalities of their father's elegant home. It quite escaped the recollection of these young ladies that, when an orphan cousin of theirs came a few years before to live with them, they had not been more than sufficiently kind to her, always taking care to let gentlemen know that she was only a person whom their father had been pleased to take into his house, because she had been left without a penny, and also taking specially good care that she never accompanied them to the balls at which they showed off amongst the gayest of the gay. Mr Sandy now lived in a poor lodging, where he was never visited by any of the friends who used to be delighted to wait upon him at his handsome villa two miles out of town. The world, he sighed to think, was but a summer friend.

All was well so long as he could give good entertainments. He was then a man of some account. It was a matter of pride to most to have it to say that they had been at his parties. But now where were all those swallow-like friends-all gone! Alas, what is friendship? he thought

"A shade that follows wealth and fame,

But leaves the wretch to weep."

Mr Sandy did not remember that, after his friend Major Tomkins lost nearly all his Indian fortune by the failure of a Calcutta bank, and ceased to give dinners, he almost forgot that there was such a person in the world, although the major had oftener than once insinuated how happy he should be to see him and his daughters over a quiet game at whist.

The world is a very deceitful world. Mrs Higgins became deeply impressed with this idea, when she discovered that Miss Tims, who had come about her as a friend for several years, and seemed sincerely attached to her, made a practice of telling all her secrets and ridiculing her in every point. Mrs Higgins forgot that she had not a single friend about whose faults she did not speak quite candidly, on all occasions when they were not themselves present. The world is also very encious. Mr Dobson, of the Custom-house, found it so, when he ascended to the dignity of comptroller, forgetting that he had himself envied his predecessor in the office for the better part of twenty years. The same sentiment was deeply impressed on Mrs Dobson, when she heard that her new gown of gros-de-Naples had been spitefully spoken of by her old friend Mrs Pyne; Mrs Dobson being totally oblivious that, during the days of her humbler fortune, she had never seen a single dress of superior elegance at church, which she did not think would be far more suitable on herself than on the person who wore it. Amongst all the bad qualities, however, that attach to the world, in the eyes of all but the speakers, there is none so much spoken of as its ingratitude. This is one of the most notorious of its alleged failings. Instances are here out of the question. Ask any one if he ever finds any gratitude on earth, and he will answer in the negative, making only a mental exception in favour of himself, whom he believes to be wholly incapable of so black an offence as that of forgetting or wilfully overlooking a kind turn or benefaction from a neighbour.

There surely is some strange falsity at the bottom of these common forms of speech. It is not, of course, to be denied that censoriousness, evil thinking, deceitfulness, envy, and other such bad things, exist, and that to a considerable extent. It is also by no means uncommon to see reduced merchants sink in credit, and impoverished families cease to be so much courted as they were in the days of their prosperity. But the vices of censoriousness, deceitfulness, envy, &c., are faults which beset human nature in general; the impoverished decline into the condition of those who were always poor, by an irresistible tendency in our social system; and if there is not much gratitude in the world, may it not be owing to this that when favours are conferred, there is usually an expectation of future deference, against which some principle common to all obliged parties hastens to rebel, and which is therefore never to be satisfied? Such faults, as far as they are faults, attach to all. Let almost any human being be in the circumstances proper for bringing them out, and out they will come. They are sentiments and acts liable to occur when human beings are in a certain relation to each other, and which no one can hope altogether to avoid. How strange, then, for any one person to speak of them as things attaching to all besides himself!

PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.

There are some other ways of talking of the world, which seem not quite free from similar absurdity. One often hears of its being difficult to "get on in the world." Now, the world is a common good, of which every person gets a share proportioned to his abilities, industry, the judgment he may have exercised in selecting a branch of employment, and the accidents of fortune to which he, like all other persons, is liable. If any individual, therefore, finds more than the usual difficulty, it must be from some inconsistency between these things and the extent of his wishes. He has had the same chance as the rest; his woes and weals, his fortunes and misfortunes, are exactly such as would have befallen any other person in precisely the same circumstances, and with precisely the same qualities as himself. He has therefore no right cause to find fault with the world, though it may be quite possible that, if he were carefully to inquire, he might find some in the history of his own actings with regard to circumstances, or his expectations and desires, as contrasted with what his abilities and fortune have brought to him. Again, it is not uncommon, when some instance of over-reaching is mentioned, to hear the remark, "Ay, it is the way of the world." There is here either a very loose observation of human nature, great prejudice, or an indifference to moral actions, for such things are only the way of a part of the world, and that but a small part, in most enlightened countries. Every one must have remarked how different minds consider the spirit of the world in various lights, according to the bent of their own nature. The ardent divine deems it a spirit indifferent to religion. The indifferent think it fanatical and bigoted. Morose and reserved persons consider it as given up to gaiety and frivolity. The gay are perpetually complaining that it is dull and stupid. The refined and unselfish think it sordid. No one of these suppositions is entirely true; they are only true in some part. They would never be affirmed as wholly true, were it not for certain habitual feelings in the minds of those who affirm them. The human mind is a cluster of various faculties, each of which seeks in the world for its appropriate gratification; and the employments of men are still more various than their faculties. Amidst such a bewildering variety of thoughts, desires, and actions, how can any one say that the spirit of the world is of any one special character whatever? Yet, attributing general characteristics to the world is a thing of daily Occurrence. We lately read somewhere, that if Walter Scott had not had the ambition to be a great man "of the world's kind," he might have ended his life more happily. What can be the meaning of this? How could any one be what is called great, without having the praises of a pretty large section (at least) of the world. If it were said that the great novelist aimed too exclusively at being a man of wealth and title, the remark would be just, for such certainly was a fatal ambition in Scott. But if this is what is meant by being a great man after the world's fashion, we would deny the justice of the remark. The admiration or greatness which Scott acquired by literature was so much more than any he could gain by merely being a baronet and the owner of an estate, that the two are not worthy of being spoken of in the same day. For one that would have admired the greatness of a Roxburghshire country gentleman, there must have been thousands to admire the unprecedented novelist. We would therefore deny that it was the world's kind of greatness which he aimed at, but only that of a limited class in a limited district.

Upon the whole, there is extremely little rationality in sweeping charges, or depreciatory expressions,

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