not glory at the beginning, for the first heroes were the benefactors of mankind; and it never has been, and never will be, true glory. For ourselves, we are for the revival of the primitive worship, divested of its corruptions. Ceres and Apollo are the deities who should enjoy our votive offerings, and not Mars and Bellona. We should wish to see honour and glory given to the men who, by useful suggestions and acts, by pleasing accomplishments, and the furnishing of innocent enjoyments, should ensure greater happiness to greater numbers; still more to those who, by improving the moral nature of their fellow-creatures, made them better for both time and eternity.

STORY OF JOSEPH RIDGE. MASTER JOSEPH RIDGE was a very worthy individual, but such a one as seldom has played the part of hero in tale or history. The county of Surrey had the honour of giving him birth, and there he passed his early days. His parentage could by no means be called distinguished; his father, Gaffer Ridge, being but a plain hedger, and his mother, Goody Ridge, being a personage who had not married below her station-a roundabout way of saying that Joseph's immediate progenitors were both of the humblest class of society. Young Master Ridge was the only son of his parents, and was born to them in their mature years. He would have been called by most people a regular bumpkin; and certainly he had been nurtured in a way suitable to that appellation, and had every prospect of passing through life in such a state of Arcadian simplicity as to render the term enduringly appropriate. But, though Joseph Ridge might be a bumpkin, he was one "with capabilities," and so time proved.

In his boyish days, Joe wrought, as boys usually work, about a farm adjoining his natal cot; and, as he grew stronger and older, he began to help his father, who had a considerable amount of employment, and was beginning to feel the weight of years. Our young hero had a good heart, and usually assisted his father in a dutiful and manful way; but at times he showed a soul above hedging, and diverged from its sober engagements into pursuits which most folk called idle, and which the neighbouring manorial lords were apt to regard as high misdemeanours, worse than treason against the state. In general, however, Joe behaved himself like a good boy, and Goody and Gaffer Ridge were very proud of him.

One day Joe was returning alone from his regular toils, with his bill over his arm. He was wearied, but went on whistling cheerily, and ruminating at intervals on the comforts attending the consumption of fried bacon, and other little restoratives for a tired frame. A carriage came up behind him, and on reaching his side drew up. A respectable-looking servant out of livery, who was seated on the coach-box, looked hard at Joe, and then leapt down. "Stop a moment, if you please," said he civilly to our young labourer. Joe did come to a pause, but looked a little surprised. The man stared at him for a few moments longer, and then said, "I think I can't be in a mistake. Yes, you are the man. I have a note for you." As he spoke, he tendered a little unsealed and undirected billet to our hero.

"A letter for me !" returned Joe; "bless you, sir, you must be mistaken. Nobody writes to me!" "That may be," replied the other," but this note is for you; I am sure it is," and he held out the paper again to Master Ridge. The latter took it into his hand, looked at it all ways, and then scratched his elbow. "I bo'nt very good at reading hand of write," said he; "perhaps you would be good enough to do it for me?" The servant took back the letter, saying, quietly, "It is from Lord S-" At this name, which was that of one of the greatest men of the district, and a minister of state, Joe's face turned suddenly to all colours of the rainbow. The memory of various little peccadilloes flashed rapidly across his brain, and he thought to himself" Well, hang it, Joe, you are in for it at last!" The billet, however, gave no countenance to his fears, but on the contrary bore an opposite tenor. It merely desired the party" to whom the letter should be delivered, to accompany the bearer, without a moment's delay, to the house of Lord S- in London, where something might perhaps be disclosed of advantage to his future interests."

"Oh, ho!" cried Joe, a little relieved, "it can't be me he wants. You have come to the wrong hand. My name's Joe Ridge. I am a poor hedger-lad, and have come, you see, from my work-up there by the canal side." This disclosure, which he expected to be perfectly decisive, had no effect whatever. The man-servant only smiled, and said, “I don't at all wonder at your surprise, young man. All will be explained to you. I know your name, and I am sure of the letter being for you, and you alone; and I advise you to come iminediately with me, as it will perhaps be for your own good."

Joseph Ridge was perfectly confounded. To be sent for by a lord was something altogether out of the

66

line of his wildest conjectures. While he stood in Lord Salso, assuredly knew his name, and who
A strange notion as to his parent-
mute amaze, the servant said, "Time presses. The and what he was.
more quickly you come, the better pleased will his age came across his mind; he might have been a sen
lordship be." "But I must go and tell father and of Lord S- placed in infancy under the charge of
mother," replied Joe; " and I must put on my Sun- Goody Ridge; but then he and his reputed father Gaf-
day's jacket." "Pooh, pooh!" said the servant, come fer Ridge were as like each other as two peas. All was
away just as you are.' As he spoke, he led the half-mystery, in short; but Joe had sense enough to resolve
reluctant Joe to the carriage, and was about to pull upon holding his tongue at ali events, and letting the
down the steps. "Come," cried Joe, bursting into tide of fortune carry him whither it chose. He told his
laughter in spite of his confusion of mind, "that is a
parents that Lord S- had seen him working, thought
bit over much! me go into a carriage! No, heaven love him an amazingly clever fellow, and was going to make
you, I'll go on the dicky, if I must go at all." "That a man of him. But he also said to them that the whole
won't do," said the man; you must go inside, and I affair would be blown up if they talked about it. The
old people were quite ready to believe Joe a genius;
shall pull down the blinds."
but their questions were troublesome to him. From
these he was delivered two days after, being then
carried to London, and put to school, while Lord S-
promised to make up privately for his loss to the old
people, a promise which he amply fulfilled.

66

He then half forced our hero into the carriage, bill and all, let down the blinds, shut the door, and in a few minutes the vehicle was off for London, which was not above eight or nine miles distant.

Master Joseph Ridge had some humour about him, and, notwithstanding the almost alarming oddity of his situation, he could not at first help laughing heartily, though not loudly, to find himself so suddenly become the inmate of a nobleman's carriage. "Polly Woodward thinks herself a cut above meand so she is, 'cause her father's a farmer; but if she could see me now," thought Joe, "how she would stare!-and mother! Talking about mother, I must let her know, directly I can do it, where I am. I won't vex the old soul for ever a lord in the land!" After making this commendable reflection, our hero fell into a profound fit of musing on the possible cause of his lordship's summons. "It can't be the girn I set on Monday was a week," thought Joe; "no, no-the constable would have been the gentleman picked out to visit me had it been that." Another term of meditation succeeded, and then, on a sudden, our young rustic started up, and clapped his hands. "I have it!" cried he joyfully; "his lordship has seen me handling the bill, and wants to make me head hedger upon his grounds hereabouts. Oh, my eye! what news for father!" And poor Joe, overcome with the anticipation of his parent's joy, lay back in his seat, and wept. An honester or more honourable tear was never shed in noble's carriage!

The end of the journey arrived, and the carriage was driven to the door of Lord S's splendid mansion in Square. The dusk had fallen in, and Joe was delivered from his place of confinement without observation. He was ushered into a private room, and the unliveried servant went to inform his lordship of the arrival of the visiter. In a few seconds the man returned to bring him to the presence of Lord S. Having never been in London before, Joe's confusion and tremors had returned on being whirled through the crowded streets, and were strengthened at sight of the magnificence around him in Lord S's house. Looking at his clumsy hob-nailed shoes, he said hurriedly to the servant, "Shouldn't I take them off?" "No, no," returned the other; "but you need not bring your hedge-bill with you," continued he with a smile, seeing that our confused hero had lifted that weapon, so formidable to hawthorn boughs and green leaves. Joe laid down the bill, and followed his guide to a small but handsome apartment, where sat Lord S- alone.

Lord S was a pale, weakly looking man of middle age. His countenance was fine, but wore a sensitive, nervous expression, indicating more than even the usual languor of luxurious life. The moment that Joe entered, the peer looked fixedly at him, and turning to the man-servant, who had remained in the room after carefully closing the door, he said, "You are right, William; this is he-the very person." His lordship then turned away, and seemed embarrassed as much so as poor Joe. But the great man recovered himself apparently by an effort, and looking directly at our hero, said, "You know me, young man?-you recognise me?" Joe had seen his lordship several times in the country, and he said, with tolerable composure, "Yes, my lord." The peer again turned his head away for a moment, and then resumed "It is needless to waste words. I will do much for you, if you will be prudent. Can I depend upon your discretion, young man?" Our rustic understood so far what was meant as to know it was fitting to reply, "Yes, my lord." "Then we understand each other fully?" said Lord S―, with emphasis. "Yes, my lord," poor Joe said, but what he thought was soniething very different. "Then, let this subject never be adverted to again. William," addressing the servant, "I know your attachment to me. You hear my wishes. Never let the subject of this evening's meeting be mentioned between us again!-do not even think of it to yourselves!" An expression of pain and confusion passed from his lordship's face as he said to Joe, after a pause, "I will do much for you, young man. I think you have the appearance of good natural abilities, and you shall have wherewithal to cultivate them-you shall have education. You are not yet too old for it. Afterwards, I will take care of your fortunes. Remember only my wishes."

Joseph Ridge was re-conveyed to his parents on the morning succeeding this memorable evening. What were his reflections on the subject of it, it is scarcely possible to describe, the issue of the interview having been so extraordinary-so different from all that he had anticipated. His natural shrewdness led him sometimes to conjecture that there was a huge mistake under the whole affair; but against this conclusion stood out the fact, that the man-servant, and through him

If a bumpkin, Joseph Ridge was certainly rather a clever bumpkin. He profited rapidly by the advantages afforded him, and in the course of no great time became a fair scholar. He was now well clad, well lodged, and well fed; and had sense to see that by strictly following up his lordship's wishes, he had a chance of rising in the world, but none otherwise. He therefore attended to his lessons diligently. In due time he was called, for the second time, before Lord S. "I have the best accounts of you, Joseph," said his lordship; "and am told you are now fitted for a respectable situation. I have got a clerkship for you." Poor Joe was now able to put his gratitude into decent though embarrassed language. "Gratitude!" said the nobleman, interrupting him, "you owe me no gratitude. You have been prudent, and merit every thing I can do for you. Allude no more to this subject. It is painful to me."

Joseph Ridge went away pleased, but more surprised than ever. Again he teased himself with thinking whether or not he could bear some secret relationship, if not that of a son, to Lord S-; but there was no satisfaction to be got in this quarter. He could not doubt his being the son of Gaffer and Goody Ridge, and their lines of descent were known to the whole

parish. "Never mind," thought Joe, "up the ladder I go, push me what may." And up the ladder of fortune he did go. Lord S raised him step by step, and at last fixed him, while still very young, as junior partner in a thriving commercial house. In his course of luck our hero forgot neither his poor old father and mother, nor any other old friends. They shared in his prosperity.

Mr Joseph Ridge had been in his new situation for several years, when William, the confidential servant of Lord S, came one day with a hurried summons for him to appear at the bedside of that nobleman, who was declared to be dying. Joseph went without delay. "I have sent for you," said his lordship, speaking in a faint voice, "to thank you for having preserved my secret so well." "Secret! my lord," said Joseph. "Yes, I can now talk of it—I could not bear to do so before. It is little that a dying man cares what is said of him, yet you must promise to preserve silence still"- His lordship grew exhausted. He pressed the hand of Joseph, and the latter returned the pressure, and this seemed to satisfy the dying peer. Friends and physicians came round him, but he never spoke again.

After all was over, Joseph, more confounded than ever, was retiring from the house, when William, the servant, stopt him and took him into a private apartment. The man was sorrowful, but he composed himself, and said to Joseph," I have sometimes thought, Mr Ridge, that a mistake was made in your case. Do you, or did you ever know the secret cause of my lord's notice of you?" "To be candid,” said Joseph, "I never did." "You have been made a man of, then, by a fortunate accident," replied the other. A pause now took place, and William seemed thoughtful. "You must feel curious to know the truth," said he at length, "and I believe you are too. grateful to my lord to disclose it to the injury of his memory. I will tell you the whole. My lord was, you know, an able statesman, and altogether a man of great talents; but he was constitutionally nervous and sensitive in the extreme. One day, some years ago,

a circumstance connected with public business drove him into a state of temporary derangement. He rushed down to his seat in Surrey, accompanied only by myself. When there, he went out alone, about mid-day, and precipitated himself into the canal. Fortunately, I had watched him, and I managed to get him out. A young countryman stood on the opposite bank at the time. He had seen the deliberate attempt of my lord, and rushing up, though he could not help us, saw my lord recover-in short, saw the whole affair. The cold bath effectually restored the reason of Lord S, but then came upon him a feeling of dreadful alarm lest his suicidal attempt should get wind. The idea of being despised as a lunatic, and the prospect of losing place, character, and influence, almost hurried his proud and sensitive mind back into its former state, and he gave me instant orders to search for the sole witness of the scene (whom he himself had seen), and to bring him away, in order to secure his silence at any cost. I was left to do this, and his lordship, though ill, rode off for London, to make a public appearance that evening, lest the worst should come out. I found you out, learnt your name, watched you at work near the spot, and was convinced

you were the very person, your dress and appearance being the same with that of the individual wanted. You know the rest. I went for the carriage, and you were in London that evening. His lordship's shrinking dislike to enter on the details of the subject caused the mistake to be confirmed, and I never spoke of it, because to me his commands were ever law. He thought your look promising, and took the course that he did with you, in the hope of being safer with an educated man than a boor."

"I was not the person," said Joseph. "Well, well," said William, "my poor lord could well afford all he spent on you. The mistake has done no harm to any one, certainly not to you."

It indeed made the fortune of honest Joe Ridge. These matters occurred a good while ago, but we believe there are some of Joe's descendants yet living, who bear the double name of Woodward Ridge.

MEETING OF THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION

AT GLASGOW.

SECTION OF MATHEMATICS AND GENERAL PHYSICS. PERHAPS the most remarkable paper read at this section, both for its scientific character and its popular interest, was one by an American gentleman, named Espy, respecting the laws governing storms. Mr Espy is, we understand, a gentleman of moderate fortune, who, instead of giving himself up, as most Americans of his class do, to mercantile pursuits, has devoted himself from an early period of life to investigations in meteorology, and thereby excited no little wonder amongst his more practical compatriots. A brief notice of some part of his speculations formerly appeared in the Journal, but not in so conspicuous a manner as to preclude our here giving a summary of his entire theory.

Mr Espy, whose address to the section occupied two hours, commenced by stating that he had found, by examining simultaneous observations made in the middle of storms, and all round their borders, that the wind blows inwards from all sides of a storm to its central parts. If the space overspread by the storm be circular, the wind blows to a central point; if oval, it blows towards a line extending through the longest diameter. He stated that he had been able, within the last five years, to investigate seventeen storms, not one of which formed any exception to the general rule. As an illustration, he presented a map of Great Britain and part of Ireland, exhibiting the direction of the wind in twenty-two different places on the night between the 6th and 7th of January 1839, when so much damage was done to the shipping around our coasts, and particularly at Liverpool. It appeared that at all the points where observations were made in Scotland, beyond the Forth and Clyde, the wind came from the north-west. In all the places throughout the east and central districts of England, it was from the contrary direction, southeast. On the west coast, again, from the Mersey to the coast of Ayrshire, the wind was, after 10 o'clock at night of the 6th, from the south-west. It appeared, indeed, that the wind on this occasion blew from all around towards a point somewhere in the south of Scotland, or the German ocean immediately to the east of that district.

In all the other cases, precisely similar phenomena had been observed. With the aid of the Franklin Institute, Mr Espy had got a correspondence established with individuals in various parts of North America, extending from Canada to Georgia, a space of a thousand miles. These individuals were requested to record the precise period when storms occurred in their neighbourhood, their duration, the direction of the wind, and the state of the barometer and thermometer, when the parties had such instruments. The history of nine storms was obtained in this way, and they were all wonderfully similar. In the centre of the storm there was a calm, and the barometer was there low. The storm had, besides, a progressive motion eastward. In one case, for instance, the centre would be in the western states, and the eastern states would have an east wind; next day, the storm had travelled eastward, a calm prevailed in the eastern states, and an east wind on the coast; on the third day, the wind blew from the west in the eastern Thus the centre appeared to travel from the western states to the coast, and from thence into the Atlantic Ocean. Mr Espy had also examined the accounts collected by Mr Redfield and Colonel Reid, of various storms and hurricanes in the West Indies. The form of these seemed to be more nearly circular, and their progressive motion, as Messrs Redfield and Reid snowed, was north-westward. It is this progressive motion which has given birth to the idea that the currents of air in these storms form vortices revolving horizontally. Mr Espy says that he has examined the data collected from the log-books of ships, by the gentlemen mentioned, and when those which are strictly simultaneous are compared, they agree completely with his theory, and show that the winds did not revolve horizontally, but blew inwards to a common centre.

states.

This blowing inwards to a centro, Mr Espy conceives to be the consequence of the sudden and powerful ascent of a column of air at that centre, from the atmosphere being there more heated than elsewhere. The column, as it ascends, expands, in consequence of being always less and less under pressure. in its ascent, it takes up with it the aqueous vapour with

which it has chanced to be charged. It is here ne-
cessary to advert to what scientific men call the dew
point. Many must be familiar with the phenomenon
of a bottle of iced wine, or any other bottle contain-
ing very cold liquor, being introduced into a room
which has been warmed by a large company, when
immediately dew begins to be formed on the outside
of the bottle, the coldness having condensed the aque-
ous vapour of the surrounding air. The highest tem-
perature at which the bottle would condense the sur-
rounding vapour, is called the dew point: that degree
of temperature depends on the quantity of vapour in
the air, and is therefore variable. As a column of
air ascends, it loses, in consequence of expansion, 14
degrees of temperature of Fahrenheit for every hun-
dred yards of ascent; in other words, it rapidly be-
comes cool, and acquires the power of condensing the
aqueous vapour with which it is charged, or which
may be immediately around it. Thus cloud is formed,
and ultimately rain. If that vapour, in its ascent,
continued in the same state in which it was below, the
changed temperature would affect it in this manner
to a far greater extent than we see in nature: the
effect is moderated to a considerable extent in conse-
quence of the expansion which at the same time takes
place in the vapour. The vapour, in short, becomes
thinner as well as the air, but not in the same ratio.
It is affected in this way only to the extent of of
a degree of Fahrenheit for every hundred yards of
ascent, being a full degree less than the extent to
which the air is affected by expansion. It follows
that, as soon as the column rises as many hundred
yards as there are degrees of Fahrenheit between the
temperature of the atmosphere and the dew point,
cloud will begin to form. When the vapour con-
denses, it will give out the latent caloric into the air,
which will prevent the ascending air from cooling
more than half as much as it would otherwise have
done on its further ascent. Thus, the higher the
column of air rises, the warmer it will be when com-
pared with the air on the outside of the cloud at the
same height. For every degree that the cloud is
warmer, it will be a certain amount lighter than air
at zero; and thus under the cloud the barometer will
fall, and the air will run in under the cloud and up-
wards, with a velocity of upwards of 240 feet per
second. Mr Espy first inferred the existence of these
ascending currents over the space where a calm pre-
vailed on the surface of the earth, but was afterwards
able to prove it, and to prove, too, that they always
attend the formation of clouds. For this purpose he
sent up large kites, and he invariably found that,
long before they reached the under surface of the
cloud, they were strongly dragged upwards, and often
carried violently out of his hands. In explaining the
formation of clouds, he has an instrument of his own
contrivance, which shows how vapour is condensed
and rendered visible, by the cold produced by the dila-
tation of the air. Water-spouts are another of the
effects of these upward currents, which are, in Mr
Espy's theory, the key to the principal phenomena of
meteorology.

This may be taken as an outline of the theory, and
of the observations on which it is founded. Mr Espy
deduces from it several observations bearing on the
practical concerns of life; and these we take from an
excellent report of his paper in the Athenæum :-

"As air cannot move upwards without coming under diminished pressure, and as it must thus expand and grow cooler, and consequently form cloud, any cause which produces an up-moving column of air, whether that cause be natural or artificial, will produce rain, when the complement of the dew point is small, and the air calm below and above, and the upper part of the atmosphere of its ordinary temperature.

Volcanoes, therefore, under favourable circumstances, will produce rain-sea-breezes, which blow inwards every day towards the centre of islands, especially if these islands have in them high mountains, which will prevent any upper current of air from bending the up-moving current of air out of the perpendicular, before it rises high enough to form cloud, such as Jamaica, will produce rain every day-great cities where very much fuel is burnt, in countries where the complement of the dew point is small, such as Manchester and Liverpool, will frequently produce rain-even battles, and accidental fires, if they occur under favourable circumstances, may sometimes be followed by rain. Let all these favourable circumstances be watched for in time of drought (and they can only occur then), and let the experiment be tried; if it should be successful, the result would be highly beneficial to mankind. It might probably prevent the occurrence of those destructive tornadoes which produce such devastation in the United States; for if rains should be produced at regular intervals, of no great duration, the steam power in the air might thus be prevented from rising high enough to produce any storm of destructive character. Independently of its utility to the farmer, it would be highly useful to the mariner in the following way :-As the very time and place of the commencement of the rain would be known, it would be easy to find out in what direction from the place of beginning it moved along the surface of the earth, and also its velocity of motion, and the shape that it assumed from time to time in its progress. Now, this knowledge is the principal thing wanting to enable the mariner, who has the power of locomotion, to direct his vessel so, when one of these great storms comes near him, as to use as much wind in the borders

of the storm as will suit the purposes of navigationfor Heaven undoubtedly makes the wind blow for his use, and not for his destruction, provided he becomes acquainted with the laws to which it is subject. From the preceding principles, he will be able to know in what direction a great storm is raging when it is yet several hundred miles from him, for the direction of the wind alone points it out. If, however, the storm should be of such great length, moving side-foremost, as to preclude the possibility of avoiding it, he will at least be enabled to know in what direction to steer his ship, so as to get out of the storm as soon as possible. For example, if it shall be found that storms between the United States and Europe always move towards the east, then it will manifestly be improper to scud with the wind in the latter part of the gale, when the wind is blowing from the westward, because this would be to keep in the storm as long as possible. The sailor also will be able to know when he is out of danger; for when a great storm has passed off to the cast in middle and high latitudes, and to the north in low latitudes, on the north of the equator, he will know that it never returns; and therefore he will not be afraid to spread his sails to the wind, before the calm of the annulus comes upon him. The mariner will finally be able, by observing storm-clouds on their approach, to ascertain the direction in which storms move; for these stormclouds frequently exhibit themselves above the horizon in the form of an arch; and if the highest part of the arch approaches towards the zenith, then is the storm coming from the point where the arch first appeared.

When a storm has a much greater diameter from north to south than from east to west, the wind will not blow towards a central point, but towards a central line, which may be called the major axis of the storm.

On the northern end of the storm, if it moves towards the east, the wind will change round without a lull, by north towards the west-and on the southern end of the storm, the wind will change round without a lull, by south towards the west; but in the middle of the storm the wind will change with a lull from easterly to westerly.

When the storm is of great length north and south, the lull in the central parts may be experienced simultaneously, at considerable distances apart, north and south, which could not be the case if the storm was round; and as this occurs frequently on the coast of the United States, it is certain, from that circumstance alone, that the centre of storms is frequently a line of great length; and, moreover, as the wind in the first part of the storm is frequently south-east, and in the last part of the storm north-west; and as the barometer falls successively from north of west to south of east, it seems highly probable that these storms of oblong form move towards the south of east.

In the West Indies, from Barbadoes to Jamaica, it is known, by the invaluable labours of Redfield and Reid, that the hurricanes there move from the southeast to north-west; therefore, if the wind springs up violent from north-west in those parts, the mariner may be sure that a hurricane is coming upon him if he remains stationary; and if it springs up in any other direction, he will know in what direction to sail to avoid its violence."

ABBOTSFORD.

SECOND AND CONCLUDING NOTICE.

WE take up the description at the point where it was broken off, having still the armoury, drawingroom, and library, to notice. All of these look out upon the Tweed, and are places of interest, from the contents they display. The mere enumeration of the remarkable objects in the armoury, though the room be a very small, or rather very narrow one, would make a goodly catalogue; and it is in reference to these objects principally, that the world has cause to regret Sir Walter's non-completion of his " Reliquia Trottcosiana," a catalogue of his rarities, which he had projected and even commenced, and which would certainly have been rendered by him a very entertaining work. Arms, as is fitting, predominate in the armoury; and, among the articles of that nature, not the least interesting to a Scotsman is the gun of Rob Roy, an immensely long weapon, of Spanish manufacture. It is marked with the initials of the freebooter, R. M. C., Robert Macgregor Campbell. The purse of the same renowned individual hangs on the walls of the armoury, but not that immortal purse shown by him to Nicol Jarvie, which is described as having been curiously guarded with a small pistol, the contents of which were likely to be lodged in the body of any one opening it without a knowledge of the secret. The present purse is merely a leather spleuchan, of a very plain kind, and likely to have been used by "Rab" in his honest drover days. Its authenticity is unquestionable, Mr Train having procured it from an immediate descendant of the original possessor.

The armoury contains the gun of another famous mountaineer-famous, we must say, in despite of national prepossessions, for much better things than our own Highlander. The weapon in question belonged to Andrew Hofer, the Tyrolese patriot, from whose lieutenant it was obtained by Sir Humphry Davy, in reward for having cured him of a fever. It forms an almost ridiculous contrast to the musket of Rob Roy, being even stuntedly short, and having two barrels. If these arms are interesting, still more so, in the opinion of most visiters, will be a pair of pistols

that hang over the mantel-piece of the armoury. They are about a foot long, and very plain articles, though they were once the property of an emperor, and that emperor Napoleon Bonaparte. They were found in his carriage at Waterloo, and presented to Scott by the Duke of Wellington. A single pistol, of a much more ornamental character, is to be seen opposite to them. This is a relic of Claverhouse, and has a handle finely inlaid with ivory. Whether or not it be the weapon which he used at Drumclog, and which is specially alluded to in Old Mortality, Sir Walter alone, it is probable, could have told us. Among other guns or fire-arms in the armoury, some Persian weapons may be mentioned, as beautiful specimens of workmanship, their stocks and butts being of wrought silver and ivory. There are also many specimens of antique fire-arms, such as the original matchlocks, which were discharged like modern cannon, by match or lintstock. Many of these may have histories attached to them, but their antiquity now forms their only interest.

admirable portrait of Scott himself, sitting in the
open air, with a book in his hand. We find also a
fine original of "glorious John" (Dryden), with his
grey hairs floating about (to use Mr Lake's words)
in a most picturesque style, eyes full of wildness, pre-
senting the old bard in one of those tremulous moods
in which he appeared, as we are told, when inter-
rupted in the midst of his Alexander's Feast." A
portrait of Lady Scott exhibits to us a petite figure,
with dark eyes and complexion, and foreign-looking,
on the whole. We see here, also, the comely Scottish
countenance of Anne Scott, and, beside her, a decent
old-world-like lady, who stands for Miss Rutherford,
the poet's near relative. These are nearly all the
paintings in the room.

Such as it is, with all its faults and all its beauties, Abbotsford will certainly be a place of pilgrimage to the nations in the times to come. At this hour, the throng of visiters to the spot is something altogether surprising, and among them are strangers from all quarters of the globe. We may expect the shrine to be still more fondly reverenced in after days, for, if the present dare prognosticate respecting the tastes of the future, the productions of Scott may be expected to charm the leisure hours of civilised man in all ages.

OCCASIONAL NOTES.

MAKING A PRINCIPLE OF THINGS INDIFFERENT.

of the family-occupants has formed no part, apparently, of the projector's views. The provision of sleeping-room to the greatest possible number of persons, seems to have been the main object in his thoughts, and that object he has certainly attained. Passing from this point, we may observe that there is but one article of a curious nature on the second floor, which we shall advert to. This is a large chest which was sent from Italy to Sir Walter, as the identical chest in which the beautiful young bride (Ginevra) hid herself on her marriage-day, out of a frolicsome wish to baffle the search of her newly-wedded lord; and out of which chest she never came, until the lapse of many years had converted her beautiful frame into a mouldering skeleton. A spring-lock had shut her in, On an antique table of mosaic marbles, between two and all search for her proved vain. Mr Rogers tells of the drawing-room windows, stands a large porcelain this story finely in his "Italy," and the English song vase, of most beautiful workmanship, being that pre- of the "Mistletoe Bough" does the same thing also very effectively. It is proper to state, however, that sented to Sir Walter by Lord Byron, along with a silver urn filled with bones from the Piræus. The Sir Walter was ultimately led to entertain strong urn had upon it the inscription, "Given by George doubts of the authenticity of the chest sent to him, Swords and other edge-weapons are abundant in Gordon, Lord Byron, to Sir Walter Scott, Bart.," but from the annoying fact that Italy has a box with sithe armoury. One sword has a deep interest, both it is not now shown to visiters. It has not, however, milar claims in two or three of her principal cities. from its beauty of make and the associations con- we believe, gone the way of the letter originally ac-Besides, the chest at Abbotsford has not the springnected with it. It is the sword of the gallant Mon- companying the donation, which some one carried off lock. However, Sir Walter's may be the right onetrose, and was presented to him by Charles I.; -a piece of rascality most unserviceable to the author the real Sosia-and if visiters are romantic enough to though, from the arms of Prince Henry being wrought of it, as the letter never could or can be shown, the get over the difficulties mentioned, let them shed a on the hilt, it would appear originally to have been knowledge of the theft having long been universal. tear over the deathbed of Ginevra. We have told the property of the elder brother of Charles. The The only other object of interest in the drawing- the truth. weapon is of elegant shape, and has a magnificent room which we shall notice, is a curious and valuable appearance, from the sheath being covered with crim-clock, given to Scott by the Duke of York, who was son stuff, crossed by strong bands of silver. A more a great clock-fancier. It is a gilded, foreign-looking costly sword in the armoury is that presented to Sir article. With its silk damask hangings, fine paper, Walter himself, by the Celtic Society. We can only mirrors, and other ornaments, the drawing-room of describe this as a gorgeous article, with a sheath of Abbotsford altogether would do honour to any palace. elaborately chased silver; but it is, on the whole, in- For general grandeur as an apartment, however, ferior in chaste and tasteful beauty to the sword the library exceeds all the other rooms of the house, of the great marquis. Scimitars, claymores, axes, being of oblong form, and about fifty feet by thirty tomahawks, arrows, javelins, darts, &c., from all quar- in dimensions. The wood-work, including the bookters of the world, and of all ages, are also to be seen shelves, is of Jamaica cedar, "finely pencilled (says in this apartment. Scarcely a nation upon earth, Sir Walter) and most beautiful, something like the savage or civilised, has not contributed something, in colour of gingerbread." The hangings are of " superthe shape of a warlike weapon, to the stores of Scott's fine crimson cloth (he says) from Galashiels, made of mine own wool." The roof is also of carved wood, armoury. Miscellaneous rarities are numerous. We have either oak or cedar, probably the latter, and the Prince Charles Stuart's spurs, very massive ones, and chairs are of old oak. All these things, forming the seemingly of solid gold. We have still more massive staple furniture of the apartment, give it a very rich spurs here, relics of the moss-trooping days; and hard-appearance, and the presence of some fifteen or twenty skinned indeed must the steed have been, which could thousand volumes, all in fine order, tend in no degree resist a hint from spikes one to two inches in length, to detract from the general effect. The cases are and proportionably thick. Spurs almost as large are wired in and locked. One painting only has a place to be seen, said to be from the "Spanish main," or in the library, and it is a full length of the present rather from the Spanish colonies, for the Buccaneers Sir Walter Scott, in the uniform of the fifteenth of that region would certainly have their hands more hussars, and with his horse by his side. The picture often upon "the ocean's mane," than on that of the is by William Allan, and is placed over the mantelhorse. The identical pair of thumbikins which piece. Opposite to it, and prominently placed in a crushed the hands of Professor Carstares, hang above large recess terminating in a bow-window, is a fine the mantel-piece. This instrument consists simply of cast of the bust of Shakspeare, taken from the Strattwo small parallel bars of iron, made approachable by ford monument; and in a central niche in the east a screw, and between which the victim's unlucky wall of the room, upon an elegant stand of porphyry, thumb was squeezed. These very thumbikins have is a marble bust of him, who alone of all whom the before now pressed royal fingers, King William hay- isle of Britain has produced, has a fair claim to be ing submitted to be operated on with them, but only named along with the great dramatist-namely, Sir in a gentle and experimental way. An old hunting Walter Scott. This is the bust, so well known from flask, made of leather, belonging once to "bonnie the numberless casts of it, which Chantrey executed King Jamie" an iron box found in the chapel of for the poet himself, and, being of the purest white Mary of Guise, in the Castlehill of Edinburgh; a marble, is not less admirable as a work of art than mazer, or drinking-horn, one of a set which Robert as a likeness. The expression of the countenance is the Bruce provided for the use of lepers frequent- at once perfectly natural and noble. It was after his ing the hospital called King's Case, founded by the death that the bust of Scott was placed here. At the Bruce himself, near Ayr, in consequence of re- west end of the library there is another bust (a cast). ceiving personal benefit from a medicinal spring It is the likeness of William Wordsworth, and exhithere; a Canadian horn of large size, with a map of bits a head of beautiful and Miltonic formation. Upper Canada and its lakes, most ingeniously and not Among the objects occupying the centre of the incorrectly carved upon it by a native Indian; the library floor, there are but two which appear worthy identical slippers of Tippoo Saib; an old hat-a very of special notice. One is a large writing-cabinet of old hat, indeed-which was worn for ages at the in- ebony, richly figured, which was once used by George stallation of the burgesses of Stow, a village of great III., and was presented by his heir to Sir Walter, beantiquity on the Gala; and, lastly, a necklace of ing a match to the ebony chairs. The other is a human bones-may be specified as worthy of notice desk of peculiar construction, having four slopes, among the remaining articles of interest which the which can be moved round at the will of the writer, armoury contains. Out of many hundreds of rarities, thus enabling him to consult a number of works at we have not, we hope, trespassed on the patience of one time. Scott used this desk in the composition the reader by mentioning these few. of the Life of Napoleon, a production which rendered it necessary for him to have hosts of authorities under his eye at one and the same moment.

Passing eastwards from the armoury, the visiter enters the drawing-room, a large and lofty apartment, rich in its furniture and walls, and not without curious contents of a different kind. As to the walls, they are covered with "splendid Chinese paper" (to use Scott's own words), a present to him from his cousin, Hugh Scott, of the Raeburn family, who had it made purposely for his great relative in the land of tea and pagodas. The windows, doors, and other wood-work, are of Jamaica cedar, and, being well varnished, have a rich and beautiful appearance. The common chairs, again, are an ebony set, presented to the poet by George IV., and really worthy of the rank of the donor. There are two finer chairs, however, in the room, large elbow ones, brought from the Borghese palace at Rome, and presented by Constable to Scott. They are in boxwood, with figures and foliage elaborately carved upon them, and are truly exquisite specimens of this kind of manufacture. The magnificent bibliopole was in nothing more magnificent, in his palmy days, than in his donations, and this the rooms of Abbotsford show, in the case of many other articles besides these chairs. But enough of mere furniture. The paintings of the drawingroom form a more intellectual object of attention. Among them we have Raeburn's well-known and

A catalogue of the books in the Abbotsford library has been recently published by Mr Cadell. In antiquarian lore particularly, the collection is rich beyond measure. The books are arranged according to their subjects, British history and antiquities, for example, occupying one range of shelves, and foreign literature another. It would be vain to particularise individual works. Many of them are presentation-copies, and gifts from friends. Constable contributed, among other things, a splendid set of the Variorum Classics, and George IV. a ten-volume folio copy of Montfaucon's Antiquities, bound in scarlet, and stamped with the royal arms. We have now only a few concluding remarks to make upon Abbotsford. It is entirely a place of show, every one must admit; and nothing establishes this fact more satisfactorily, than a glance at the second floor of the house. The huddled and uncomfortable character of the bedrooms on the second floor, and, in short, of all parts of the house excepting the exhibition rooms that have been described, can escape no one's notice. There is here and there a piece of rich furniture on the second floor, but there is no order or judgment shown in the construction and arrangement of the parts. The comfort

Ir is right to watch the first approaches to real error, which often take a very indifferent and unalarming appearance; but there is no need for making a principle of matters which, from their absolute nature, never can be any thing but indifferent. The possession of a steady, well-balanced mind, to distinguish between what is important and what is indifferent, is a great blessing, for the opposite subjects its possessor to much ridicule, and on many occasions to no small inconvenience. It is generally against the lesser customs of society, the little formalities and ways which human beings fall into when massed in communities, that those liable to this error lift up their testimony. They become conspicuous, accordingly, as odd or disagreeable persons, and lose much of the credit to which for other reasons they would be entitled. They never do this; they can't endure that; they avoid another thing: all of these being matters which an angel might submit to without tinging the tip of one of his snow-white feathers. We have known a literary man of this order, who made a principle of spelling music and public with a final k, because it was more Saxon; yet at the same time subtracted a t from Scottish, because so it was done in Latin. We have known an artist make a world's wonder of himself by dismissing a neckcloth, alleging that neckcloths are antagonistic to the natural grace of the human figure. He was perhaps right in his opinion; but a man nevertheless looks foolish in this country without a neckcloth, or something serving the same end. The line of defence usually taken up by an odd person is, "I have a right to do in this matter as I please: no one has any right to interfere." No doubt of both propositions; but then is it worth while to assert or act upon a right of so worthless a nature? And, again, though no one has a right to interfere, every one has a right to laugh, and every one does laugh accordingly: is it worth while, we would ask, to subject one's self to so much ridicule for so small an object? It is the disproportion between a trivial oddity, and the ridicule encountered for its sake, that makes the practice so absurd. As much good martyrdom is thrown away, perhaps, in affecting a different length of hair from the bulk of mankind, as, if bottled up and kept over, might prove the means of overthrowing some great national evil. The fault lies partly in a kind of moral elephantiasis, which makes little things appear huge; but there is also a morbid self-esteem at the bottom of it-a self-esteem which makes it seem better that we should be singled out for something, however ridiculous, than be swamped amidst the common herd. The true philosophy is to do as others do in all trivial matters, amongst which is to be included the whole range of external manners, dress, eating (within moderation), speaking, and so forth, and only to stand up against things which really portend or do evil, it being quite enough for any man to incur odium as a dissenter from the serious delusions and vices of his fellow-creatures, without also causing them to laugh at him for affecting to consider that as a matter of principle which their common sense has set down as a thing of not the slightest consequence.

THE NEWSPAPER PRESS OF FRANCE.

A calculation lately made by a French journal, places in a striking light the importance attached to the profession of a journalist in France. In July 1830, forty-four journalists, including the editors, conductors, and publishers of the principal news-sheets of Paris, signalised themselves by protesting against the ordinances of Charles X. The extraordinary influence acquired since that era by the press, and the extent to which public situations were thrown open to talent by the Revolution, is made remarkably apparent by the position in which a considerable portion of these fortyfour individuals have for some time stood. The following list exhibits the state of the case :

M. Thiers, chief editor in 1830 of the newspaper called the National, has been for a considerable period Prime Minister of France.

Mignet, co-editor or permanent writer in the same paper, is now Keeper of the Archives to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Counsellor of State, and an Academician.

Carrel, another co-editor, was killed in a duel, otherwise he would certainly have now been in very high office, supposing him willing to accept of any thing of the kind.

Chambolle, also co-editor, is a Deputy of the Chamber, and is now intrusted with the conduct of the official or ministerial paper, the Siècle.

Peysse, also co-editor, is Director of the Academy of Fine Arts.

Roche, also co-editor, is Keeper of the Public Library of Paris. Gauja, manager of the same paper, is at this time

Prefect of the Pas-de-Calais.

M. Dejean, one of the editors of the Globe, is now a Counsellor of State, and was recently Director of the Police of the kingdom.

De Remusat, co-editor of the same, is now Minister for Home Affairs.

De Guizard, also co-editor, is a Counsellor of State, and Prefect of the Aveyron.

M. de Jussieu, editor of the Courrier des Electeurs,

is Prefect of the Ain.

M. Cauchois-Lemaire, editor of the Constitutionnel, is Principal Keeper of the Archives.

Année, co-editor of the same, is a Counsellor of State.

M. J. Coste, editor of the Temps, is a Pensioner of the State, and a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour.

State.

Baude, co-editor of the same, is a Counsellor of Hausmann, also co-editor, is Sub-Prefect of a department.

Isle of Bourbon.

Barbaroux, also co-editor, is Solicitor-General of the Chalas, also co-editor, is Under-Secretary to the Ministry of the Interior.

Billard, also co-editor, is an Ex-Prefect. M. Larréguy, editor of the Commerce, is now a Counsellor of State, and Prefect of the Charente. M. Bohain, editor of the Figaro, is an Ex-Prefect, and a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour. Roqueplan, co-editor of the same, is a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour.

M. Leon Pillet, editor of the Journal de Paris, is a Master of Requests, and Acting Director of the Opera.

In all, out of the forty-four protesting journalists of 1830, three are dead; six are now no one knows what or where; and fourteen have remained independent, in the same position as formerly. At least twenty-one have been loaded with employments, wealth, and honours, during the ten years intervening since

the Revolution.

Why, it may be asked, and asked with some indignation, is not literary talent equally advanced and honoured in our own country? Before feeling indignant on this point, it would be well to make sure that the advancement of literary men in France is an indication of a sound and desirable state of things. Public writing, we are told, is now adopted in that country by young persons of talent as one of the paths to eminence, just as the law, the church, and the army, used to be. Most of the ambitious and turbulent spirits take this course, and the public press of Paris is accordingly rather marked by earnest endeavours on their part to acquire importance, than by any conscientious regard for what is for the public interest. Every means are taken to raise and keep up a flame about all kinds of things, that papers may be purchased, and the editors made great men. The interests of these gentlemen and of the public are therefore, we would say, not one, and the public peace and welfare is just so far endangered. Right and safe elements of power must, we fear, be considered as wanting in a country, where merely to inflame the human passions by extravagant writing is a ready means of attaining to high station and influence.

all this display of literary exertion, how much is de-
voted to mere amusement, how much to trivialities of
all kinds, how much to the objects in which not truth
but party is concerned, how much to the great object
of making the worse appear the better reason, obfus-
cating the common sense of the plain-sailing public, and
misleading into all kinds of error and delusion! If all
this were subtracted, we fear that the account would
look pretty much as a certain celebrated tavern-bill
would have done, supposing the deduction of the sack.
Admirable things there are no doubt in our literature,
and some men of virtue belong to it; but, take it as
we will, it cannot be said to be pervaded by any defined
philosophic or moral spirit tending to the permanent
benefit of our race, or to be in the main any thing but
a vain show of intellect. We must confess that we
should like to see its men animated more generally by
some lofty and abiding principle, before we could wish
them as a class to be advanced to state situations of
any considerable degree of responsibility.

their crops with the hoe or hand, and singing together some lively air to lighten the labour, which they sometimes intermit to come around me, offering some of the refreshments they generally have with them; a light for my pipe, or to joke a little. Thus they aid each other alternately, and their crops in general have the cleanly appearance of one of our nurserygrounds. If a traveller pass while this or any other agricultural occupation is going forward, he almost invariably cries out 'Rabestuakho' (May it be productive!); and the rules of good-breeding equally require that, when he encounters a flock of sheep or goats, he should not press on, but wait until the shepherd has gathered them to one side or other of the pathway, when he exclaims to him 'Bowhapshi' (May you have increase !)"

One of the most charming forms in which our author saw the good feeling, or politeness, if you will, of the Circassians exemplified towards one another, consisted in the care and attention bestowed on the wounded and the sick. "The custom of females visiting the wounded men is universal, and shows, at MR J. S. BELL'S WORK ON CIRCASSIA. all events, a kindliness of feeling among the people. HUMAN nature being ever the same, it is not surprising The visit of the bright-eyed maidens to the young that past history should be often reproduced in action, wounded warriors, must contribute greatly to the dif scene and characters alone being changed. At this hour, maidens, one of them the sister of Hassan Bey, sitting fusion of courage. I have repeatedly seen two of these the struggles of the Swiss with Gessler, and of the Scotch by the couch of my patient, fanning and paying him | with Edward I., are in the course of being renewed on other delicate attentions, among others that of combthe shores of the Black Sea, the parties in the presenting the tuft of hair on the apex of the head, generally The freedom permitted to case being, the Circassians on the one hand, a handful worn by young men." young unmarried females, in walking abroad and unof semi-civilised, but vigorous-natured people, and on covered, is strikingly at variance with the rules to the other the colossal government of Russia. This which married females are subjected. "The house contest has been carried on since 1828, without the and society of the married female are inaccessible, as in least mark of languor or shrinking on the part of Turkey, to all males except those of her own family, the Circassians; and now, from some late triumphs, the ataliks of her children, and the members of her they seem to be more thoroughly exempt from Rus- times. When she goes out to visit her female friends, husband's fraternity, who have free admission at all sian bondage than at any time since the commence- her head and face are closely veiled, and her whole ment of the war. Of the general features of the figure enveloped in a cloak; she must avoid meeting contest within the last year or two, and of the cha- males, or, unless they be serfs, stand respectfully aside racter and peculiarities of the Circassian people, we covered in front with clasping plates of silver, and till they pass. But the maid-whose tight corslet have a striking and attractive account before us, in a skull-cap ornamented with knobs and lace of silver, new work by Mr J. S. Bell, who resided for a con- give her somewhat of a martial appearance, as if the siderable time on the very scene of action.* panoply of her innocence were proof against all asThe territory of the Circassian people is well defined saults; while her pendant tresses, flowing skirts, and in its limits, being confined, or nearly so, to the space figure, and, if she be tall, give it much of dignity and between the north-eastern shore of the Black Sea, and grace-sallies forth unveiled, and upon occasions she gentle gait, preserve the feminine character of her the large river Kúban. The nation, which is chiefly fearlessly, but never with effrontery, enters amid of Tatar descent, was of the Christian faith four or groups of men. The tall handsome girl I have refive centuries ago; but the influence of Turkey, at one peatedly seen entering the guest-house here when filled with men, to visit the wounded warrior, has time predominant in the country, caused the establish- made me think more than once of the Maid of Orment of Islamism as the national religion. Properly leans' performing this military duty to her comspeaking, as Mr Bell shows, the Circassians were al- panions in arms." Bright colours-red, yellow, and ways an independent race, governed by their native blue-are the favourite hues in the dresses of the Cirthe Porte, led to the insertion of a clause of cession in the benefit of the followers of fashion here, the rechiefs; but a pretence of suzerainship, put forth by cassian maidens, but the long veils of the matrons are white as driven snow. We cannot help quoting, for a treaty between the Turks and Russians, on which marks of our author on the Circassian dresses genethe latter ground their claim of authority. What rally. "How superlatively ridiculous do some of the was the exact nature of Mr Bell's mission to Circassia, follies of what is called civilised life become when does not appear very clearly, but he was certainly re- one's mind has got a little 'unsophisticated' by living ceived by the whole nation as an agent accredited, to among an artless people; when one contrasts the a greater or less extent, by England. They bestowed ceaseless dance of fashion in Europe, and all the monon him the sounding appellation of the "greatly strosities in turn produced-the hats, petersham, honoured, the ever-constant, the nobly-descended tally-ho, and clerical-the small and large-collared, Lord Misr Bell;" though, as it might have been broad and swallow-tailed coats-the apoplexy-inducinconvenient at times to repeat all this, they also ing neckcloths and stocks of our men and the bonassigned to him the every-day title of "Yakub Bey." nets and sleeves, of all possible forms and sizes, of our In point of hospitality and politeness, the Circassians women-with the simply elegant and unvarying attire are described by our author, from experience as well of these Asiatics, whom we reckon among baras observation, to be superior perhaps to any other barians!" nation in the world. When residing in one part One practice which the Circassian mothers have of the country, he used to be presented by mes-long followed, of girding the waists of their girls with sengers from other quarters with the "respects of leather bands, when they are very young, and leaving hundreds of men, women, and children," all unknown these for many years, is still prevalent, Mr Bell says; to him; and was often told that, wherever he might but of late years they have wisely "abated the tightchoose to go, "not one, but a hundred thousand ness" of these cinctures to a great extent, and dimidoors," were open to receive him. He further ob- nished their hardness. serves-" From all I have seen, I feel inclined to pro- The Circassian men, in a state of peace, occupy their nounce the Circassians, in the aggregate, the most time chiefly with pastoral and agricultural concerns, genuinely polite people I have ever known or read and are governed by their chiefs and elders, who asof." Their politeness, moreover, seems not to be semble in congress on great national occasions. Exsuperficial, or of that kind which displays itself only cepting in one point to be noticed, there is much to strangers. It is universally practised among them- practical freedom in their communities, and, doubtless, selves, and goes beyond forms or mannerism. "A it is their acquaintance with this blessing that has matron on a visit here frequently pays the girls a made them enter with such gallantry into their unvisit; and I observe when she approaches, whether equal contest. Some instances of patriotic devotedthey be seated before the cottage or inside of it, they ness and personal bravery are recorded in the work invariably rise (intimates and relatives as they are) before us, which would have done honour to the days and remain standing till she seats herself. The same of Leonidas and Coeur de Lion. In a skirmish with respect is shown to the male visiters when they enter the Russians, "they observed a tokav of the neighthe cottage, and to me when I pass even at some dis-bourhood who was in advance of them, and at one side tance from its window. One or other of these girls of the advancing body of Russians, draw his sabre and invariably, and sometimes all our females, accompany rush alone into the midst of it. He was atalik of my such female visiters as they have to the confines of the host's second daughter, and a person of singular intreterritory of the hamlet, and a young one, married or pidity. He had been wounded on the head by a ball unmarried, is never allowed to go home alone." To only an hour before, and was no sooner bandaged than old men, of whatever rank, the Circassians pay the he engaged ten or twelve others to perform with him same Spartan-like respect. This may be partly form, this feat of devotion, saying, Better to effect somebut not so ia the following case. Mr Bell speaks of thing and perish, than be subdued like women.' At often seeing "some happy band of neighbours, old and the subsequent exchange of dead, the Russians said young, males and females, busily engaged in weeding that, unless they had witnessed his prowess and hardihood, they could not have believed in them." Wounds are despised by the young braces of Circassia. Mr Bell once had for a patient "Osmond, a former ac

It would also be well to ask if our literary class, as a whole, are of a character to make it desirable that they should be advanced to places of high trust. There is certainly an immense display of literary talent and industry in the country. According to Mr Bent, the number of books published in 1838 was 1550 (by the way, the number in 1828 was only 842, though there were then no cheap publications to ruin the trade). There are above 30 quarterly, between 200 and 300 monthly, and an infinitude of weekly periodicals, besides nearly 500 newspapers, Journal of a Residence in Circassia during 1837, 1838, and daily, weekly, and twice and thrice a-week. But of 1839. By James Stanislaus Bell. London: Edward Moxon.