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venue boat's crew, they pushed off and succeeded in picking him up, but, strange to say, he had no idea whatever of his perilous situation, and it was with the utmost difficulty they could persuade him he was not still in bed. But the most singular part of this novel adventure was, that the man had left his house at twelve o'clock that night, and walked through a difficuit and to him dangerous road, a distance of nearly two miles, and had actually swum one mile and a half when he was fortunately discovered and picked up." The state of madness gives us, by analogy, the best explanation of the condition of these climbers and swimmers. With one or more crgans or portions of his brain diseased, and the rest sound, the insane person has the perfect use of his external senses, yet may form imperfect conclusions regarding many things around him. The somnambulist, with his senses in activity, but with some of his cerebral organs in a torpid state, is in much the same position as regards his power of forming right judgments on all that he

hears or sees.

The story of the sleeping swimmer is borne out by a statement from an indisputable authority, Dr Benjamin Franklin. The doctor relates, that on one occasion, while bathing in a hot salt-water bath, he fell asleep, and floated on his back in that state for nearly an hour, as his watch testified to him.

Sometimes, in the case of a person liable to somnambulism, it is possible to direct the thoughts of the dreamer to any given subject, by acting on the external senses. Smellie, the writer already quoted, gives the subjoined instance :-" Mr Thomas Parkinson, then a student of medicine in the University of Edinburgh, was accustomed to talk and answer questions in his sleep. This fact was known to his companions. To amuse ourselves, two of us went gently into his chamber while he was asleep. We knew that he was in love with a young lady in Yorkshire, the place of his nativity. We whispered her name repeatedly in He soon began to toss about his hands, and to speak incoherently. He gradually became more calm and recollected. His imagination took the direction we intended. He thought he was stationed under the lady's window, and repeatedly upbraided her for not appearing and speaking to him as she had so often done on former occasions. At last he became impatient, started up, laid hold of books, shoes, and every thing he could easily grasp. Thinking his mis

his ear.

proper form (through the French souverain from the Low Latin superanus or superancus, one set over others). But people thought it had some connection with the verb to reign, and hence it became sorereign. So perhaps foreign, which was formerly spelt forein (through the French forain from the Latin foraneus, out of doors). Perhaps this was confounded with reign. So the word island people imagine to be compounded of isle and land. Now, in point of fact, isle, which is a contraction of the Latin insula (French ile), has nothing to do with island, which is the German eiland and Saxon calond, and belonging to quite a separate family of words. So again the word waits, the name given to the nightly minstrels who itinerate at Christmas time, is commonly pronounced wakes. People find that the waits wake them; therefore they call them wakes. Now, it is very curious that the word wraits is connected with wake, but in another way. Watch, wake, and the German wachten, are the same, and a wachter or watcher is a wait, a person who watches or keeps awake all night; so that the waits are in fact wakes, not because they keep us awake, but because they keep awake themselves. Webster, in his AmericoEnglish or Anglo-American Dictionary, says that the word waits is not used; we suppose he means not used in America.

liar state of somnambulism, and that, during the con-
tinuance of that state, sensation or sensibility is
destroyed. It has been seen that Smellie found the
farm maid-servant to have lost sensibility in her arms.
This is a statement corroborative of the account given
of magnetic somnambulism. Taking advantage of this
absence of sensibility, surgeons, it is said, have per-
formed upon magnetic somnambulists the most severe
and painful curative operations, without inflicting on
the parties a moment's suffering of the slightest kind.
The patient's mind, meanwhile, seems in a perfectly
sound and active state, but without the power of re-
membering any thing that passed in the unmagnetised
state. A Parisian lady, aged sixty-four, who had a
cancerous breast, was magnetised, and it was found
that somnambulism could be induced. In her waking
state she was deeply averse from an operation, but in
her magnetised state it was proposed to her, and she
consented at once. The breast was operated upon,
and cut off without the slightest seeming pain to her.
On waking, she was, it may be believed, much surprised.
This case, it has been alleged, is but one of several, where
the like has been done, and some of the most respect-
able medical men of Paris have borne witness to the
truth, or at least apparent truth, of these allegations.*
On this score alone, animal magnetism seems worthy of
a full and fair inquiry. It would be a wonderful thing, Gone, Done, Borne. In these words the regularity
indeed, if we could arrive at means by which all the of the formation is obscured by the spelling. Just as
painful operations to which the human body is ren- we have shaven, broken, driven, &c., so from go, do, bear,
dered liable by disease or accident, could be performed we have go-en, do-en, bor-en, the e having been displaced
without suffering to those who undergo them.
in the forms go-ne, do-ne, bor-ne. Our participles for-
Somnambulism, or the tendency to it, most com- merly had the prefix y corresponding to the German
monly arises from causes not apparent or discoverable.ge; thus yborn, whence we now have born, but the
Where it occurs in persons not accustomed to exhibit Germans still ge-bor-en. So ygone-gegangen, ydone-gethan,
any such propensity, some disorder of the digestive ydriven-getrieben. And this ge is pronounced ye in some
functions may be suspected, and the restoration of parts of Germany, but wrongly. In the word yclept
these functions to a healthy state may put a stop to or yeleped, the participle of clepe "to call," the old
the practice. But in confirmed cases nothing can be form is preserved. The phrase star-y-pointing, used by
done but to lock the doors, bar the windows, and keep Milton, is obviously wrong and falsely formed; they was
dangerous objects or instruments out of the way, or prefixed, not to the present, but to the past participle.
a cord may be affixed to the bed-post and the arm of
the sleep-walker. As a general rule, the somnambu-
list should be taken to bed before being waked.

SPECULATIONS ON WORDS.
THIRD ARTICLE.

Salt, Sound, Tyrant, Propound.-Changes are con

Lay, Lie; Drop, Droop, &c.-In English, as in many other languages, we have from the same root two sets of verbs, one set transitive, the other intransitive. In Latin these are numerous, and in English perhaps more so than is commonly supposed. Compare

Fell, Fall. Lay, Lie. Drop, Droop.

tress was asleep, he threw these articles against the stantly making in language; and the same tendencies speak of dining their men.

opposite wall of his chamber. By what he said, we learnt that his imaginary scene lay in a street, and that he was darting the books and shoes at the lady's window, in order to awake her. She, however, did not appear; and after tiring himself with frequent exertions, he went quietly into bed without wakening. His eyes were nearly shut; and although he freely conversed with us, he did not seem to perceive that any person was present with him. Next day we told him what had happened; but he said that he had only a faint recollection of dreaming about his mistress."

which produce the alterations in the speech of the
educated, often produce the alterations in the speech
of the uneducated, so that the same principle which is
applied by the educated to certain words, is often ap-
plied by the uneducated to other words, and these are
considered corruptions of language, and vulgarities.
Thus, we all say sound, but we do not all say gownd;
only the uneducated say it. We all say tyrant, but
we do not all say chest (for the game of chess); only
the uneducated say it. Yet d is added in gound on
the same principle as in sound, and t in chest on the
same principle as in tyrant; and d in sound and t in
tyrant have no more right there than in gound or chest.
In tyrannise, tyrannical, there is no t: tyrann is the
German, tyrannus the Latin.+ In sonorous there is no d.
Now, Chaucer wrote sowne for sound; but he also wrote
laund for lawn. The thing is now reversed.

This seems capricious, but it is not more so than
people's talking nowadays. We often hear, for ex-
ample, clift for cliff, and perhaps from the same person
fon for fond: We have in English some words with
and without the t or d. Thus,

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Set, Sit (and Set). Raise (and Rouse), Rise. On exactly the same principle the London shopkeepers One of them might say, on engaging a man," I will dine you, but I shall not be able to sleep you." To dine and to sleep a person are phrases formed analogically, though they are not yet in the language of books. Words of this class are numerous in German. Compare Legen (to Lay), Setzen (to Set), Trinken (to Drink),

Liegien (to Lie).
Sessen (to Sit).

Tränken (to give to Drink). The common mistake of using lay for lie and laid for lay is one of the vilest vulgarisms.

words ways and wis, no ways, and nowise, &c. Ways, Other ways, Otherwise.-People often confound these however, is not the same word as wise. Wise is only another form of guise, and is the same as the German waise "manner." "In no wise" means "in no guise" or fashion or manner.

Less, Worse, Chief, Ere, More, Former, First.-Several words are used as comparatives in English which are not so in form; and some are so which do not look so. Less and worse are used as comparatives, but they are positives, and the real comparatives are lesser and worser, which the pragmatical school of English critics would reject altogether. Lord Brougham has forms. Chief, again, the same Lindley Murray school done a great deal to revive these and some other old would rob of its comparative and superlative, chiefer and chiefest; and the adverb most chiefly. These also Lord Brougham has revived in his writings and speeches. On the other hand, ere and more, although they are not commonly looked on as comparatives, are so. Ere we have not in the positive; the Germans, however, have ele, comparative, eher. We have comparative, ere, and superlative, erst.

More is the comparative of mo, which is often used

Now, compare the German and English list which fol- by Spenser and other old writers-Mo, mo-er (more), lows:

It is consistent with our own knowledge, that many country surgeons, who ride much by night, and pursue a most laborious life generally, sleep perfectly well on horseback. This, however, although a position in which the bodily motion is not entirely passive, is not properly somnambulism. Perhaps the most perfect sleep-walkers were Sir John Moore's soldiers, many of whom, in the disastrous and fatiguing retreat to Corunna, were observed to fall asleep on the march, and yet to go on, step by step, with their waking companions. Many tradesmen have been known to get up by night and work for a time at their usual employments, without being at all aware in the morning of what they had done. Gall mentions a miller who did this. One of the most extraordinary cases of this order, however, is that of a student of divinity at Bourdeaux, who was accustomed to rise in the nighttime, and to read and write without the use of his eyes. This case is stated in the French Encyclopedie, under the word Noctambule, and is attested by the Archbishop of Bourdeaux. This prelate, in order to test the young man, interposed an obstacle between his eyes and the paper on which he was reading or writing, but he read and wrote with equal facility and equal accuracy as before. Macnish, who repeats this story, does not mention the fact of the eyes not being used, though this is the most marvellous feature in the case. The reading may not have been aloud, and may only have been apparent. But as for the writing accurately without the use of the eyes, this was certainly a feat which few waking persons could have accomplished. In addition to these cases, many others might be gathered, and particularly from Mr Macnish's Anatomy of Sleep; but that book is so accessible that it is enough to refer to it for further information. We shall only mention one other case which is there given. It is that of Dr Blacklock, who "on one occasion rose from bed, to which he had retired at an early hour, came into the room where his family were assembled, conversed with them, and afterwards entertained them with a pleasant song, without any of them suspecting he was asleep, and without his retaining, after he awoke, the least recollection of what he had done." Being blind, his family would have the more difficulty in discovering his unusual condition. Somnambulism, it was stated at the close of the farm-servant's case, had of late years assumed a new and more interesting aspect. This has arisen from the discovery (if it be allowable to call it a discovery) that animal magnetism is capable of inducing a pecu--ED.

Germ.-Donner

Morass
Germ.-Lehnen
Germ.-Sieben

Sin

Hip

Thick

Sap

Lay (a song)

Thunder.
Morast.-Germ.

Lend.
Sift.

Sünde.-Germ.
Hüfte.-Germ.
Dicht.-Germ.
Saft.-Germ.
Lied.-Germ.

Propound, compound, expound, have acquired the d in
the same way.

Spelling influenced by a false etymology. Sovereign,
foreign, waits, &c.-There are a great number of words
in English, and probably in other languages, which
have been spelt in a particular way from a mis-
taken notion of their derivation. For example, sote-
reign was by Milton always spelt sovran, and this is its

*Colquhoun on Animal Magnetism. 2 vols.

mo-st. The comparative and superlative of some words
are made by more and most added to the word; thus,
pos. fore, comp. for-mer (fore-more), sup. fore-most.
First is a corruption of for-est from fore.
Abbreriations. It is the tendency of language to
abbreviate as time goes on.
Yet an early period of a
language will often exhibit contractions, which a later
and more polished period will not tolerate. It is so in
English. For example, old writers used nathless as a
contracted form of nevertheless; but now it is not
allowed. So the word them was often contracted to
Norris (of Bemerton), 8th edit. p. 149,
'em even in books, as in the Miscellanies of John
our designs
about 'em," which is now considered vulgar. Again,
occur frequently in writers of that date, 1600-1700,
the contracted forms tho', can't, don't, 'tis, 'twill, which
are instances of the same thing. The participles, also,
concern'd, pull'd, sar'd, &c., which would not be spelt
were generally spelt without the e, as help'd, reckon'd,
so now in prose. In Fell's Life of Hammond, which
edit.) lai'd, instead of laied. It might be difficult to
we have referred to before, laid is spelt (p. 61, 2d.
say why we spell played as we do and not plaid, like
laid. It is curious to notice that it is not so. We

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+ The Scotch say tyrran, laying the accent on the first syllable. do not think it desirable to restore the apostrophes

they look ugly and save no time; but such a word

i

CHAMBERS'S EDINBURGH JOURNAL.

as stept we see no reason why we should write stepp'd or stepped, any more than why wept should be written wepped. So whipt, stript, &c. Mr Julius Charles Han would write publisht, lookt, wisht, talkt, &c.; and certainly, in so doing, we should only be restoring the old method of writing them.

THE ASS AND THE TREASURE,

AN ARABIAN TALE.

[The ass, in Europe, is a by-word for all that is dull, obstinate, and stupid. Very different is the case in the East; and not unnaturally so, seeing that the animal, under the more genial skies

he tried to lead the conversation by degrees to the
object of his journey. The old man, however, antici-
no dervish is poorer than I am; I am ruined; all the
pated his purpose, and cried, "I am poor, a beggar;
dinner for you." Rajeb perceived that he had to deal
world robs me; I have spent my last para upon a
with a heart of marble; so, after trying in vain to
soften the old man by descriptions of his mistress's
beauty and his own passion, the youth rose, and, under
pretence of taking the air, went out to conceal his
bitter disappointment and vexation.

Troubled as he was with his own matters, Rajeb could
not look without pity on a poor ass which he saw on
of oriental latitudes, is as remarkable for docility, activity, and going out of doors, and which was lying in a little shed,
swiftness, as well as for elegance of form, as its European con-
gener is for tardiness of step and meanness of aspect. The Egyp-munching some morsels of straw that lay within its
tian Arabs give the ass the precedence over all other four-footed reach. Rajeb, who loved animals, approached to caress
and the ass seemed sensible of the affection shown to
creatures for intelligence and sagacity, and their story-tellers the poor lean, starved creature, which was all hide-sore;
it. Prompted by his natural benevolence, Rajeb then
bring forward as many stories in support of this opinion as would
have kept Scheherezade from the block or the bowstring for
went away, and bought a measure of barley, and almost
another month or two. Our young readers may be pleased with
a sample of these tales, and we select for their amusement one
fall to its food with the liveliest marks of joy. After
which we find contributed to a recent French periodical by M. P. forgot his own griefs in the pleasure of seeing the ass
bringing it water to complete its meal, the youth
Granal, a writer who has personally visited the East, and who,
by other compositions, has proved himself to be thoroughly con-
went back to his uncle. It is needless to say that
versant with its fictions and customs. He describes himself as
Rajeb passed an unhappy night; he lay on the floor,
having heard the story from the lips of his temporary attendant
and the vermin infesting the place were sufficient of
in Egypt, a professed narrator of such matters.]
themselves to banish sleep. In the morning, the two
relations breakfasted on the relics of yesterday's meal,
It is all that remains to me of my
and then the nephew was about to take his leave. But
Rajeb thought his
his uncle stopt him, and said, “I have an ass which is
substance, and if you wish"-
uncle was about to make him a present of the ass, but
for the old man proceeded-" if you
wish, you may go with me to the market, and see me
sell him." Rajeb consented, and when they went to
the stall of the ass, the young man again caressed the
of intelligence, and struck the ground several times with
poor animal. In return, it looked at him with eyes full
its foot. Rajeb even thought he heard it say, "Buy
me.' Its looks at least, he thought, said so.

of no use to me.

he was in

error,

RAJEB was a young man of Cairo, who had been left by his father with a fortune of about two thousand piastres. Had he embarked this little fortune in trade, and been industrious, he might have lived very comfortably; but he fell in love soon after his father died, and could think of nothing but the fair object of his passion. She was a young girl, whose countenance he had first seen for a moment, when by chance she put aside her veil to drink at the fountain of a mosque. She was very plainly dressed, and appeared to belong to some humble but decent family. But she was rich in beauty, at least, and in modesty, for she hastily replaced her veil on seeing a young man looking at her, and walked away without turning to the right or the left, or looking back as coquettes do. Rajeb followed her, and saw her enter a plain house, of the kind inhabited by the middle orders. From this time forward, Rajeb was consumed by the passion which had sprung up in his breast. Of the object of it he could learn no more than that she was as virtuous and well-behaved as she was beautiful. At length he went to the parents of his mistress, and asked her hand in marriage. They received him very kindly; but when he came to speak of the dowry which they expected to be given by their daughter's husband, they demanded the sum of five thousand piastres. This was above the lover's means, and he exclaimed loudly against the enormity of the sum; but they were obstinate, and Rajeb could only prevail on them to give him a few days to reflect, and to look about him for means. If he did not appear at the end of the stated time, they would hold themselves at liberty, they told him, to accept of other offers. Rajeb returned home, lamenting and reproaching "Ah! himself with having idled away his past time. if I had worked hard," said he, "I might have increased my fortune, and might now have been happy!" He took out his money and counted it several times, but he could not thus make it more than it was-two thou-ingly, they set out, and the ass with them. By the way, sand piastres. He lay down on his bed, and tried to sleep, but his mind was too much occupied with projects for procuring the required dowry to permit him At last he bethought him of a maternal uncle at Tantah, whom he had not seen for eighteen years, and He who was said to be rich. Rajeb had no sooner thought of this person than he resolved to visit him. would borrow the three thousand piastres; a rich reThe young man lation could not refuse such a sum. longed for the coming of day to set out on this hopeful

to rest.

errand.

economy.

white!"

Morning at length dawned, and Rajeb started on his journey. In order to save money he went on foot, hoping, also, to interest his uncle the more by this When he reached the first houses of Tantah, he inquired for his uncle Jousoff, "the rich Jousoff," of several boys whom he met. "The rich Jousoff!" cried they, "say rather the old beggarly miser Jousoff, who regrets to throw away a bone when he has picked it One of the boys, however, conducted Rajeb to his uncle's house. The young man entered it trembling, for the description which he had heard was by no means encouraging. When his uncle came to him, Rajeb saw an old, withered, ragged, dirty being, who cried, "What do you want ?" in a rough voice. “Ah, my dear uncle !” cried Rajeb, throwing his arms about the old man, "do you not remember me? I am Rajeb, the son of your sister little Rajeb, whom you loved when a boy; I am come, dear uncle, to see if you are well." "Very well," said Jousoff, "I am very well, but very poor. I shall not be able to show you very splendid hospitality." "What then?" said Rajeb, cheerfully; "riches and poverty come from God." At these words, they entered the old man's apartment, dark and dingy, without any other furniture than an old mat and a jar of water; neither pipes nor coffee were to be seen. Rajeb, however, was patient, and showed no ill humour. That evening they feasted upon a crust of wretched cheese, and some crumbs of black, detestable bread. The cheese, such as it was, was a novelty in that place, and the neighbours who saw the old man buy it, could scarcely believe their eyes.

Rajeb was not accustomed to rich fare, but after his journey he stood really in need of soup and roast, or something else that was goods But he ate the bread and cheese, and said nothing. When they had done,

the old man.

66

The ass stamped no more, and Rajeb hastened to
secure his treasures, and to get them transported
He put them into two panniers, and, al-
though they were very heavy, the ass never slackened
to Cairo.
of his arrival, Rajeb hastened to the house of his mis-
brought its burden to its master's door. On the night
its speed, nor gave any signs of weariness, until it
tress. He was just in the nick of time, for an old Turk
had seen her, and offered the five thousand piastres to
with him, and showed a part of his treasures, when the
The young bride
the parents. Rajeb, however, took the father home
marriage was at once agreed on.
proved to be really as virtuous as she was beautiful,
ass, it had the place of honour, during its life, in the
and made Rajeb happy. He gave large donations to
the poor on the occasion of his wedding. As for the
that of bearing its mistress and her children.
stable, and was never doomed to any other toil than.
master visited the stable every day, and spoke with it
as with an old friend.

Its

Behold, in this story, a lesson never to despise animals, but always to be gentle and compassionate to them, for they may often repay a hundred-fold the little kindnesses which we do to them.

THE COMMERCIAL PRINCIPLE.

WE have extracted the following just and glowing
recent number of the KNICKERBOCKER.
eulogy on the influence of the commercial principle,
from an article entitled the American Merchant, in a

"The discovery has not long been made, but it is made at last, that the real source of national prosperity, Even rulers and monarchs, although greatness, and power, is the once contemned pursuit of commerce. generally the last to abandon errors, and to perceive great moral truths, have begun to entertain the idea that that increase of territory, by conquest, is not prois not probable that the civilised world will ever again the power of an empire is not exclusively in its armies; sperity; and that successful warfare is not glory. It in such a frightful series of butcheries and desolations On the way to the market, Rajeb reflected on the produce a Napoleon, or civilised nations again engage subject, and felt himself impelled to purchase the ass by some involuntary feeling, which most people would as were the fruits of his ambition. The knowledge have been disposed merely to call good-nature or pity. that the business of mankind is to create, and not As the ass was young, and had no faults but those destroy, has slowly travelled upward, from the workward. One offered two hundred piastres, another three merchant, to the study of the philosopher, the cabinet It is time, indeed, that this great truth were uniarising from starvation, several purchasers came for- shop of the mechanic, and the warehouse of the When Rajeb saw that his uncle was willing to take this, hundred, and at last the price mounted to five hundred. of the statesman, and the council-chamber of the king. he offered a few piastres more, assured that he would versally acknowledged, for history has been teaching "What do you want with the ass?" said it these thousand years, in the successive rise and fall of empires. Of the great nations of antiquity, we "I am resolved upon having it," was all Ah, well!" said Jousoff, find that the most rapid growth in power and prospe get the ass. that the nephew answered. with a smile of greedy pleasure, "you must give me a rity belonged to the most commercial, as Phoenicia, Rajeb Carthage, and Egypt; and that when they fell, their of enemies, superior in power. Their greatness had was shocked at the miser's demand; but the old man, ruin came not from within, but from the fierce assaults thousand piastres, and then it shall be yours." seeing his nephew's anxiety, would not bate of his exwere stricken down by the overbearing might of miliorbitant request, and the youth at last agreed, and a in itself the elements of duration; and although they bargain was struck. nuous resistance, with numbers far inferior, proving tary dominations, it was not until after long and strethe vigour and soundness of the principles on which of Rome, were of short and uncertain duration. They their national existence had its foundation. The military empires, on the contrary, with the exception had within themselves the seeds of dissolution, and crumbled into ruins with a rapidity of destruction generally commensurate with the celerity of their rule, save only in the long continuance of its greatness; a greatness founded on the valour and warlike elevation. Even Rome itself was no exception to the temper of its people, which every new conquest tended. to diminish, by the introduction of luxurious habits, and the increase of means for their indulgence, gained by the robbery and plunder of the conquered. A power erected on such foundations could not be permanent. Its growth was unnatural, and at length it fell to pieces, as so many other warlike empires had done before it, through the influence of causes inherent in its elevation. The Romans, the Macedonians, the at riches and dominion by the strong arm and the Assyrians, the Persians, all the conquest-seeking nations of antiquity, were mere robbers. They aimed rapacious spirit; and with the very attainment of their cnds, the strong arm grew weak, and their illgotten wealth became the instrument of their destruction. The Carthaginians and l'hoenicians, and every other commercial people, grew in strength and prowealth they acquired was won by toil, and enterprise, sperity with a wholesome and vigorous increase. The and perseverance, and brought with it increase of knowledge and intelligence; and if they fell at last, But without looking more deeply into the causes of they fell nobly, after a long and gallant defence, not by enervation and effeminacy, but by the enormous disparity of force against which they contended. ancient prosperity or ruin, as to which we labour under racy and fulness of historical record, we shall find much uncertainty, by reason of the insufficient accuabundant demonstration of our position in those courses of events which approach nearer to ourselves in point of time, and of which we have fuller and more definite information. In the modern history of nations, agency of commerce, in the creation of national wealth then, we cannot fail to be struck with the manifest and power; for wherever we find commercial activity and a decline of this commercial activity immediately and enterprise existing in vigour, we also find national strength and influence exhibited in a high degree;

ass,

As Rajeb had left all his money at Cairo, it was agreed
that Jousoff should go back with his nephew to that
city, and there receive the purchase-money. Accord-
the creature seemed to be inspired with fresh life, and
gambolled and danced as if to please its new master.
Arrived at Cairo, Rajeb gave his uncle the promised
sum, and entertained him handsomely. After a few
days Jousoff departed, and left his nephew alone. The
and in tending and cleaning it, by which means it
As for the mistress
latter occupied himself in making a good stall for his
soon became quite a new creature.
of his heart, Rajeb had almost given up all hope of her.
The interval allowed him by the parents had expired,
and the youth, now poorer than before, did not dare to
Whilst matters stood
present himself before them.
thus, information was brought to him that his uncle
had been found dead by the road-side, having been
plundered and killed by robbers. The young man shed
a tear for the sudden end of the miser, and then made
preparations to go to Tantah to take up the deceased's in-
heritance, though there seemed little hope of its proving
once acquired for being rich.
great, notwithstanding the reputation which Jousoff had

Mounting his ass, Rajeb proceeded to Tantah. He
put up the ass in its old stall, and went into the house
to search it. As he had almost expected, not a para
was to be found; not a vestige of any thing valuable
was visible in any corner of the wretched abode. While
Rajeb was prosecuting his examination, he was sur-
Thinking he had neglected its wants, he went out seve-
prised by the continued whining and braying of his ass.
ral times, and put barley, straw, and water before it;
but the animal would not touch them, and continued
to stamp on the floor of its stail with its foot. Rajeb's
attention was at length attracted to this movement, and
mence. Its master, seizing a bar of rusty iron which
the ass, seeing this, repeated it with increased vehe-
the ass struck. As he did this, the animal looked on
stood by, then commenced to turn up the ground where
with eyes glistening with eager pleasure, and seemed
as if it would fain say, "Go on, go on; it is there." At
last, Rajeb came to a coffer. He turned it out, and
behold! it was filled to overflowing with doubloons,
hugged his treasure, but the ass would not yet let him
sequins, and all sorts of precious coins. The youth
rest. It struck the ground in another spot with his
feet, and Rajeb, on digging anew, found a second coffer,
filled with pearls, rubies, emeralds, and other valuable
gems.

followed by a corresponding decadence of population and resources. Look at the states of Italy, for instance-Venice, Tuscany, the Florentine republic, Genoa, and the rest. Time was, when, despite their narrow territorial limits, they stood foremost among the nations in wealth and power; carrying on a most extensive commerce, their ships were found in every sea; their flags were respected, their political influence was paramount, and their great men were proud to bear the title of merchant-princes. But in process of time they neglected the real sources of their power; their rulers began to assume more exclusively the character of princes, and to lay aside that of merchants; they engaged in wars of aggression; and with all this, permitting themselves to be rivalled in their trade by other nations, they descended very quickly to the miserable state of poverty and impotence in which they now exist. Spain, too, once the most commercial country in the world, was also one of the most prosperous and powerful. But in an evil hour the discovery of Columbus laid open to the Spaniards the delusive wealth of Peru and Mexico; and from merchants they became conquerors and robbers. We might enlarge upon this branch of the proofs in support of our position; taking the instance of every kingdom and country in the world, and showing that its wealth, power, and influence, bear a direct ratio to its commerce; but the enumeration would occupy too much space, and we limit ourselves to the two most commercial nations of the earth, Great Britain and the United States; each presenting, but in a different way, the most striking and remarkable illustration of the principle for which we are contending. In the first, we behold one of the greatest powers, occupying the very first rank among the nations, and until very recently holding a sort of recognised supremacy upon the ocean, without any one natural advantage which should secure to it this amplitude of power and dominion. A mere island, of such narrow limits, compared with the other great powers of Europe, that in territorial extent it holds almost the very lowest place; unfavourably situated at the corner, as it were, of the eastern hemisphere, with a climate very far from delightful, and a soil, fertile indeed, but extremely limited in the range of its productions; without forests for shipping, or mines of any thing except tin and coal; with scarcely any streams affording water-power for the driving of machinery; and, in short, as little indebted to nature for the elements of prosperity and greatness as the least potential of the petty kingdoms; this small island has for centuries taken the lead of all the world in activity, population, wealth, power, influence, and even splendour, laying every quarter of the globe, every land, and every sea, under contribution; wielding the sceptre of dominion over an empire, that, like the tricksy spirit of Shakspeare, puts a girdle round about the earth,' and giving laws to millions upon millions of every race and language under heaven. It boasts a navy, which, until within the last twenty years, was greater than those of all the other powers united, and more than once has maintained long and successful war, single-handed, not only against the most powerful and warlike of the continental powers, but against several of them in combination; and finally, in its last and greatest struggle, it was able to resist, and ultimately to overcome, the greatest soldier of modern times, before whose power all the other kingdoms of Europe had gone down in succession, and whose vast armies at one time included legions from almost every nation between the Baltic and the Mediterranean, the Atlantic Ocean and the continent of Asia.

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Such is the power of England; and the wealth by which it is supported is of the same gigantic measure. And this wealth and power are the immediate fruit of commerce. By commerce the latter is acquired, and the former is sustained; and so long as the commercial supremacy of England is kept up, so long will that little island continue to be the first among nationsthe arbiter of empires, and the wonder of mankind. The illustration afforded by our own country is not less remarkable, although of a somewhat different nature. The amazing influence of commerce upon the growth of nations is exemplified in our history, not by overcoming disadvantages, but by the astonishing rapidity of its operation. We have every thing desirable or necessary for the attainment of prosperity and power. Immense extent of territory, unsurpassed fertility of soil, inexhaustible variety of productions, abundant forests, navigable rivers, mines of coal, iron, copper, lead, and other useful minerals; water-power for machinery, and a sea-coast abounding with harbours; we are divided, by three thousand miles of ocean, from the conflicts and intrigues of European politics, and, by the freedom of our institutions, left at liberty to employ all our energies in the attainment of individual welfare and happiness.

And now what is it that has made the United States, within less than half a century, one of the great powers of the earth? Not their natural advantages, certainly, for the same advantages are enjoyed by many other countries, without the same result. Perhaps it may be answered, that our political institutions are the cause of this effect. And so they are, in part. They are the cause, in so far as, by the freedom of action which they secure to every citizen, they have enabled us, as a people, to exert all our energies, with the highest efficacy and advantage, in those pursuits to which inclination prompted; interposing no obstacle either to the choice, or to the successful prosecution,

when the choice was made. Favourable circumstances, that to constitute a first-rate merchant, are demanded
and the national temper, led to the choice of com- the highest attributes of mind and disposition; clear-
merce; and under the benign influence of our free ness and vigour of intellect, extensive knowledge,
institutions, we have become the second commercial sound judgment, perfect integrity, liberality of senti-
people in the world, and shall soon be the first.
ment, and unsullied honour. He will see that to the
There is a consequence resulting from the wealth possessor of these attributes, the mercantile profession
and power-bestowing influence of commerce, that is of opens the road to distinction as widely as any other;
infinitely more importance than wealth and power and conscious that in this profession, as much as in
alone. There is yet another attribute of commercial any other, whatever is noble in the employment, be-
enterprise, which bears more directly upon the high-longs to the man, and whatever is noble in the man,
est interests of mankind, and the most exalted obliga- to the employment, he will make it his study to
tions of responsible Christian beings. The influence acquire and cultivate all those properties which shall
of commerce is peaceful; its noblest attribute is, the fit him to sustain the honourable character of a pro-
restraint it places on the brutal passions of humanity. fession which, in its capabilities, may give fitting
Strange as it is that men should exist so long, without employment to the most accomplished minds, and to
making the discovery, yet it is unquestionable, and the which, as well for its beneficial influence, as for the
world is at last beginning to find it out, that the inte- worthy and distinguished men it has produced, the
rest of all nations, and of every individual nation, is most intellectual, the most instructed, and the most
best promoted by the harmonious intercourse of philanthropic man that ever lived, might esteem it no
mutual want and mutual supply. At last, the great less than an honour to belong."
ones of the earth have bethought themselves of put-
ting glory, and conquest, and military splendour, and
increase of territory, in the one scale, and commerce
in the other; and some of them are very much as-
tonished to find that commerce is the heaviest.

And now to what conclusion do we arrive as to the character of commerce, in this examination of its influence? We find that it is a civilising principle, eminently favourable to the advancement of science and the cultivation of intellect, potent in its operation upon the welfare of states, adverse to war and discord, a promoter of human happiness, and the natural and efficient stimulus to production, because it is the means by which the advantages of production are realised. Are we not right, then, in pronouncing it liberal and honourable? Must we not give a prompt and indignant denial to the charge so often brought against the mercantile profession, that its tendency is contracting, and its character illiberal? For our own part, we cannot listen with patience to such unfounded and silly imputations. Whether we use the term 'liberal,' in its intellectual sense, as relating to the tone of mind, or in that other and more common sense which regards the sentiments, it seems to us that it is, to say the least, not less applicable to commerce than to any other occupation. The merchant is not debarred, by his pursuit, from the cultivation of his mind; on the contrary, he has facilities and inducements for it of the highest order.

LINES TO A LITTLE BOY.

My winsome one, my handsome one, my darling little boy,
The heart's pride of thy mother, and thy father's chiefest joy;
Come ride upon my shoulder, come sit upon my knee,
And prattle all the nonsense that I love to hear from thee:
With thine eyes of merry lustre, and thy pretty lisping tongue,
And thy heart that evermore lets out its humming happy song;
With thy thousand tricks so gleesome, which I bear without annoy,
Come to my arms, come to my soul, my darling little boy!
My winsome one, my fairest one, they say that later years
Will sometimes change a parent's hope for bitter grief and tears:
But thou, so innocent! canst thou be aught but what thou art,
And all this bloom of feeling with the bloom of face depart?
Canst thou this tabernacle fair, where God reigns bright within,
Profane, like Judah's children, with the pagan rites of sin?

No-no, so much I'll cherish thee, so clasped we'll be in one,

That bugbear guilt shall only get the father with the son;
And thou, perceiving that the grief must me at least destroy,
Wilt still be fair and innocent, my darling little boy!
My gentle one, my blessed one, can that time ever be,

when I to thee shall be severe, or thou unkind to me?

Can any change which time may bring, this glowing passion
wreck,

Or clench with rage the little hand now fondling round my neck?
Can this community of sport, to which love brings me down,
Give way to anger's kindling glance, and hate's malignant frown?
No-no, that time can ne'er arrive, for, whatsoe'er befall,

This heart shall still be wholly thine, or shall not be at all;

And to an offering like this thou canst not e'er be coy,
But still wilt be my faithful and my gentle little boy!
My winsome one, my gallant one, so fair, so happy now,
With thy bonnet set so proudly upon thy shining brow,
With thy fearless bounding motions, and thy laugh of thought-
less glee,

So circled by a father's love which wards each ill from thee!

Can I suppose another time when this shall all be o'er,
And thy cheek shall wear the ruddy badge of happiness no more;
When all who now delight in thee far elsewhere shall have gone,
And thou shalt pilgrimise through life, unfriended and alone,
Without an aid to strengthen or console thy troubled mind,
Save the memory of the love of those who left thee thus behind.
Oh, let me not awake the thought, but, in the present blest,
Make thee a child of wisdom-and to heaven bequeath the rest :
Far rather let me image thee, in sunny future days,
Outdoing every deed of mine and wearing brighter bays;
With less to dull thy fervency of recollected pain,
And more to animate thy course of glory and of gain;
A home as happy shall be thine, and I too shall be there,
The blessings purchased by thy worth in peace and love to share-
Shall see within thy beaming eye my early love repaid,
And every ill of failing life a bliss by kindness made-

And if we speak of liberality in its common sense,
as a synonyme for generosity, or readiness to bestow
on deserving objects, in what profession shall we find
more of it than in the mercantile? It is notorious,
that for all charitable institutions, for the relief of
individuals or communities in distress, for the endow-
ment of literary or scientific bodies, in a word, for
every kind of beneficent purpose or object, the dona-
tions of the merchants are always the largest, and the
most freely given. It is notorious that the sums
annually bestowed for purposes of this nature, in
London and New York, the two most commercial
cities in the world, are of startling magnitude; and
we are warranted in saying, that to no class of men
are applications of this kind made more frequently, or
with more success, than to the merchants. There are
exceptions, undoubtedly; but, generally speaking, Shall see thee pour upon thy son, then sitting on thy knee,
their liberality in giving money is one of their most
striking attributes. Away, then, with the mistaken
prejudice, that charges upon commerce a want of
liberality, in thought or feeling!

And that other prejudice, too, which withholds from commerce the title of honourable-one of the most flagrant and absurd of all the prejudices that beset the human mind. Why, is not the pursuit of commerce honourable! It is creative, beneficent, pacific, light-diffusing, and promotive of human comfort; and to the eye of reason, therefore, infinitely more deserving of honour than the destructive pursuit of war. Yet we cling to the stupid error of the warlike ages, and imagine that there is more honour in killing, burning, ravaging, and laying waste the fair domain provided for man, by divine benevolence, than in disseminating and increasing the enjoyments designed for us by our Creator. We adopt the insane and atrocious opinion of those iron-clad and iron-souled barbarians of the middle ages, whose business was robbery, and whose amusement was strife and butchery; who held it right to take whatever they could seize by the strong hand, and thought it very chivalrous and noble to run each other through with spears, for the mere glory of the deed; and allow our high intelligence to be hoodwinked by a prejudice, which the common sense of a child rejects as monstrous and absurd.

It is not merely as an abstract proposition, curious but of no practical consequence, that we have expatiated on the character and influence of commerce. We have been impressed with a sense and a conviction of its beneficial agency; we have seen that, by its effects upon the progress and the welfare of mankind, it has a dignity and honour of its own; we have recognised, in their full extent, its capacity for good, and the dependence of its operation upon the mode and spirit in which it is pursued; and the reader's good sense will point out to him the way in which its full advantages are to be realised; and his laudable ambition, if he be intending or preparing to engage in commercial pursuits, will prompt him to grasp the means, and employ the agencies, by which that end is to be accomplished. He will see that a first-rate merchant is one of the most useful and honourable members of society; and

A father's gushing tenderness, such as I feel for thee;
And know, as I this moment do, no brighter, better joy,
Than thus to clasp unto thy soul thy darling little boy!

ART OF FLOATING.

R. C.

Any human being who will have the presence of mind to clasp the hands behind the back, and turn the face towards the zenith, may float at ease, and in perfect safety, in tolerably still water-ay, and sleep there, no matter how long. If, not knowing how to swim, you would escape drowning, when you find yourself in deep cher; let your mouth and nose-not the top part of your water, you have only to consider yourself an empty pitheavy head-be the highest part of you, and you are safe; but thrust up one of your bony hands, and down you go-turning up the handle tips over the pitcher. Having had the happiness to prevent one or two drownings by this simple instruction, we publish it for the benefit of all who either love aquatic sports, or dread them.

-Walker.

NOVEL MODE OF CONVEYING A STEAM-ENGINE. It is but a short period that the steam-engine has been used to convey post letters on land, and now for the first engine. Messrs Newton and Berry, of the Patent Office, time a post letter is made the means of carrying a steamChancery-lane, London, lately received per post, from Messrs Chadburn Brothers, Sheffield, a perfect working steam-engine, constructed on the oscillating cylinder principle, with its fly-wheel, framing, boiler, and fireplace complete; the whole was enclosed in a case wrapped in paper secured with string, and accompanied with a description of its construction and mode of working. The total weight being under four ounces, was charged as eight letters, which sum being prepaid at Sheffield, cost fellow penny travellers.- Newton's London Journal of eightpence postage, and came safe to hand with its

Arts.

EDINBURGH: Printed and published by W. and R. CHAMBERS, 19,
Waterloo Place.-Agents, W. S. ORR, London; W. CURRY Jun.
& Co. Dublin; J. MACLEOD, Glasgow; sold by all booksellers.
Complete sets of the Journal are always to be had from the
publishers or their agents; also, any odd numbers to complete
sets. Persons requiring their volumes bound along with title-
bookseller, with orders to that effect.
pages and contents, have only to give them into the hands of any

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

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GOING TO SERVICE.

"THERE'S many have done it before; and let people say what they like, and however disagreeable it may be, it's no disgrace," said Mrs Mulvany, the shopkeeper's wife in the little town of Ballycastle, or, according to its original designation, Ballycushlawn. "It's no disgrace, Mary Cassidy, and so don't cry, dear; if you are not comfortable after a while, you can come to me. Remember there's a time for every thing, and every thing in time; a place for every thing, and every thing in its place;' dust the corners,' as my poor mistress used to say (she was English, as well as myself, Mary), 'dust the corners, and the middle will dust itself; never leave till to-morrew what ought to be done to-day;' a stitch in time saves nine;' 'keep on doing, and you will soon be done;' keep a civil tongue in your head, and your head will keep you; always remember time and tide wait for no man.' Why, Mary, girl! if my husband, Terence Mulvany, had minded my advice, where he has single pounds now, he'd have had dozens in his purse; but he's an Irishman, Mary, and they're very affectionate in their way, yet very, very thoughtless. But for all that," added the good woman, leaning her large red arms on a counter that was as clean as hard rubbing could make it, "for all that, I would not exchange my Terence for any other husband, no matter what his country."

Mrs Mulvany was a bustling, industrious woman. Many people are bustling who are not industrious, but she was both; and she was kind-hearted withal, though her kindness did not take the form it usually takes in Ireland. Her hospitality was not reckless; she would place enough before her husband's guests, but not a great deal too much. Provisions are cheap in her neighbourhood, but she did not conceive that their being so, justified her in any species of extravagance; she considered their abundance an especial blessing, not to be wasted. She did not think that prevailing on persons to eat or drink more than they liked, more than did them good, was a proof of either kindness or generosity; she loved her husband dearly; she worked with him, thought for him, saved for him; but she also remonstrated with him, when, instead of minding his business, he would borrow a pointer, and use, or endeavour to use, the old gun as a fowling-piece. She steadily refused her sanction to card-playing in all its branches, as being an unchristian and unthrifty amusement; and when, having taken a "stiff tumbler" of punch, Terence would express his desire to have another, or, if not another, half a one, or "only a little drop of sperits in the could wather, just to kill the insects," Mrs Mulvany would lay firm, if not violent hands on the ugly green bottle, put it into the cupboard, lock it up, and consign the key to her capacious pocket: this was was nobody by. She had good sense when there enough, if Terence filled his glass too often when a neighbour dropped in, to hold her tongue until he was gone; or, if Terence had really taken too much, to keep it quiet till the next morning; then, indeed, her husband received a lecture, long or short, mild or strong, according to circumstances.

Men generally listen to reason when suffering from a bad headache produced by indiscretion, and Terence knew his wife was right; besides, her entire conduct in her own homely way convinced him that his interests were hers, and that the desire of her life was to see him well and happy. To be sure, she wanted him to be happy in her way rather than his own, and was not as yielding, not as subservient, as Irish wives generally are; consequently, the young idling men, who would have enjoyed their hot punch and feasting at Terence Mulvany's expense, but for his wife's care

SATURDAY, MARCH 21, 1840.

"that she kept his nose to
fulness, were apt to say,
the grinding-stone." Nevertheless, the worthy shop-
keeper grew fat, looked happy, and prospered.

And what has all this to do with "going to service?"
you inquire. I will tell you. Mary Cassidy, the pretty
interesting-looking girl who stood in Mrs Mulvany's
shop, had in a great degree been brought up under
her eye, and improved by her counsel. She had within
the previous six months lost her uncle, or rather her
mother's uncle (for poor Mary was an orphan), an
amiable-hearted, gentle-minded old man, a friar, who
had been educated in France, and who was both
polished and tolerant. Mary was only sixteen, and
her great-uncle's death had deprived her of bread;
indeed, during the last four years of his life his mind
had faultered, and to the kindness of his neighbours
he was principally indebted for the few comforts he
required. Mrs Mulvany had, as she declared, lovea the
girl" as if she were her own;" but, contrary to the
usual Irish practice, she had sent those of her own
children whose assistance was not required in the shop,
to service long before. They had gone cheerfully,
because they had been brought up with that inten-
tion; their mother's well-known diligence and in-
dustry had secured them good situations in the best
families, and it was not in Mrs Mulvany's bustling
nature to understand the nature of poor Mary's
feelings. Mary had occupied a dangerous position;
she was above the lower class, and greatly below the
higher; the poor called her "Miss," the shopkeepers
"Mary." She had received a little education; enough
to begin upon, and enough to make her desire more,
but not enough to raise her above the rank of an ordi-
nary English servant. This she hardly believed could
be the case, though Mrs Mulvany had told her so. She
is not a cold one. All who knew sympathised with her,
had no near relation in the world; but the Irish world
except Mrs Mulvany, who declared she was in luck to
get what was as good as an English place, to go where
she'd have fresh meat once a-day, regular meals, a
good bed, and a mistress who "would have her work
done properly."

Mary Cassidy silently agreed with every word ut-
tered by her active and disinterested friend; she
then as silently stole into the parlour behind the shop,
and from that into the little garden, where she shed
many bitter tears at the prospect of "going into
service." Mrs Mulvany supplied her with all she
deemed necessary for English servitude; and as she
was going as house-maid, under the lady's maid,
there was every reason to suppose she would learn
well and quickly. She was, however, to spend a few
days after she left Ballycushlawn at the house of a
country gentleman, a sort of person midway between
a farmer and a squire; a very dangerous position for
The gentleman's wife was a
any one to occupy.
distant relative of poor Mary's, and as in Ireland
"poverty" does not often "part good company,"
she was not ashamed of her fourth cousin, though she
was foolish enough to lament her going to sarvice.
Here it was Mary's fate to witness the reverse of all
the maxims inculcated by Mrs Mulvany's kind advice.
There was no settled time for any one duty; every
thing was conducted by the rule of "hurry scurry;
consequently, when night came, at least half the work
was laid to the account of the following day, which
thus became overburdened. The kitchen was a scene
of most desperate confusion; instead of the noggins
and jugs being hung in regular lines along the dresser,
they were laid down when done with on the floor, "that
the cat, the craythur, might finish the sup of milk,"
or "the chickens pick the last of the stirabout," or
"Rover, the baste, lick the end of it." There they
remained until they were wanted, when all was per-
plexity to get them ready. The dust was never dis-
turbed from the corners of their parlour, or from
behind the tables and chairs; consequently every breath
of air that entered the room, set it whirling over "the

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PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.

greenest spot" that had received the promise of a sweeping.

Mary discovered in the morning, while commencing her breakfast, that the milk had never been properly strained before it was set for cream to make butter; consequently the cow hairs stuck round that com"Indeed, and it is very troublesome they are," said pound, like a cheveau-de-frise. Mary could not eat. "It's mighty troublesome they the lady, picking out the offenders one by one, and laying them on the breakfast cloth, which bore tokens of being" used to it." are; and while I think of it, I'll just speak about it to Nelly. Ring the bell, Mary."

Mary tried; the bell was mute.

"Well, call, then, dear; tongues were made before bells; but, any way, if Jerry had strengthened the

crank when I told him, with a bit of wire, we needn't be made hoarse with calling, or lame with tramping have the bell-hanger, I suppose, when we can get him." after those blind and stupid sarvants; now, we must

"A stitch in time saves nine," thought Mary Cassidy, as Nelly entered.

"Nelly, the hairs prevent our eating the butter," "Bad luck and bad manners to 'em for that same," said "the misthress," with the greatest composure. replied Nelly, leaning her shoulder against the door post, and running her finger backwards and forwards across the back of the nearest chair, so as to form a meandering figure in the dust.

"Nelly, it's your fault."

"Bedad! I'm as clear from it as if I had just risen from the priest's knee, God bless him! My faut, agra! Bedad! misthress, it's the faut of the strainer, that's gone into smithereens ever since yerself, ma'am, took it to bate paes in."

"Devil take the peas!" chimed in the husband. "Sure milk-vessels should be kept to themselves; I had the taste of split peas off the butter for a month."

"Ay!" said Nelly, making a very long slide with her finger in the dust; "ay, and last market-day, butther through one of Andy Muckle's jokes--may Pether, Sandy Pether, the gra-boy, lost the sale of the the devil choke him wid the next, I pray! He said it was cows' hairs he was bringing to market instead of cows' butter."

"Still, Nelly, that is your fault," said her mistress, "See that now! Bedad! ma'am, I thought ye'd say in a more angry tone. so! Sure ye could not expect me to hinder the strainer of wearing, and the paes, and".

"Don't dare to talk to me of the peas," exclaimed the good woman, angry that her fault should be exposed; "could you not have mended the strainer?" "It's a-past mendin' now." "But at first ?"

"Oh! at fust! Sure it was only a dawshy hole at fust; and Miss Nancy used to take the world's delight in seeing the kitling put her paw through it. The hole did no harrum at the fust going off, as we used to lift the strainer on one side."

"If Mrs Mulvany heard this," thought Mary, "how she would storm!" and ventured immediately to suggest, that until a new strainer could be purchased, a piece of coarse linen should be sewn round the wood. She would do it with pleasure herself, "as it was a pity to lose the sale of the butter."

"Oh, very well," said Nelly, rather piqued than pleased; "miss might do it to be sure, if the misthress liked. The butther had the hairs in it many a day, and the misthress took it aisy enough; and as to the sale of the butther, the laugh was agin Pether in the market. But, to be sure, some people, especially those reared by half English, such as Mrs Mulvany, was mighty nice;" and Nelly flounced away, her mistress talking loudly of the "dirt of the servants," quite forgetting that she had set the example, if example was needed, of carelessness, by corrupting the milk-strainer by the impurity of other matter.

Dinner was ordered at four that day, and as poor Mary was wandering about, observing, without knowing it, how different every thing was from the thrift and care manifested in Mrs Mulvany's dwelling, two of the children came running to tell her that "Peenawn the piper was outside the back door, playing Rattle her down the Hill,' the hunter's jig, and that Nelly and Molly, and little Jemmy, war dancing a double jig." Mary thought it must be near the hour of dinner; as she passed the clock she looked up; it was not going (a sure sign of a mismanaged house); but in the kitchen, the ducks, suspended by a string of twisted worsted before a fire, roaring like a burning mountain, were at a dead stop, while a dog was licking round and round the edge of a huge cracked dish that did duty as a dripping-pan, as the cook (!) had not been able to find time to rid" the baked potatoes out of the proper dripping-pan, though they had been nearly destroyed by the picking of chickens and the licking of animals, to whom the kitchen was free ground; and over this kitchen there was no presiding genius, as the cook had fled at the sound of the pipes to turn her foot in a jig, leaving the dinner to dress itself.

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Mary drove away the dog, and turned the ducks, seeing there was no chance of the servants "keeping on doing and consequently being soon done;" but the servants regarded her care with scorn, and held her labour in contempt. Indeed, they war not going to lose their step of a dance for nothin'; the dinner would be time enough. Masther nor misthress was never ready to the minute; why should they bother then ?-it wasn't every day they heard the pipes."

If Mary had known enough to understand the full force of the observation, "master nor mistress was never ready at the minute," she would have understood how necessary the practice of punctuality is to enforce its observance. The slovenly habits of this house did Mary Cassidy infinite service, for she had a sufficient quantity of good taste to perceive they were such as to mar every thing like comfort and economy.

Five months elapsed after she went to Mrs Singleton's before she wrote the following letter to Mrs Mulvany:"MY DEAR FRIEND-for so you have ever proved yourself to be to a poor friendless girl-and you will therefore, I am sure, let me call you so-I am doing, thanks to your advice, very well indeed, and, I may say, give great satisfaction; and if it warn't for Mary Dacey, the lady's maid, I should be as happy as if I wasn't at service at all; every thing is regular as the clock, and my mistress so particular. You are a good girl,' says she to me one morning; Mary Cassidy, you are a very good girl; I have examined all the corners, and find them well dusted.' Ma'am,' says I, making a dutiful answer, Mrs Mulvany told me to sweep the corners, and the middle would sweep itself,' and that pleased her very much, and she said I was a nice clean girl. But what puts betwixt me and my rest entirely is Mary Dacey. Oh, Mrs Mulvany, if it wasn't for Mary Dacey, there wouldn't be a happier girl betwixt this and the Bay of Dublin than myself. Now, you see, the mistress asked me when I came if I had any followers, and I felt my checks burn up like a coal of fire, for you know I never encouraged but the one, and he went to sea before my poor uncle (the heavens be his bed!) died; but he did not go without breaking the ring which hangs about my neck at this minute, though, even if he is alive, maybe it's too proud he'd be to think of a poor servant, though he'd regard a priest's niece. However, I said, and trembling alive with the shame, None at this present time, ma'am,' for you told me to speak the truth.

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At this present time!' she repeated; then you hope to 'If it's pleasing to God and yourself, ma'am,' I answered, curtseying; for,' I added, I broke the ring with one that's beyant seas, and that, I'm afraid, will never trouble yer honour about me.'

Now, Mrs Mulvany, was there any thing to laugh at in that? Sure I was in fear, and am in fear, that I may never see him again! But the mistress laughed outright, and then said, 'Well, I am sure you have told the truth, and if you continue to do so, we shall have no reason to repent Mrs Mulvany's recommendation. But, Mary, the reason I asked was, that, if you had a lover, I would find out who and what he was, and, if he was steady and well conducted, never object to your seeing him occasionally in my house, though I do not permit young girls to meet young men out of my house. It is perfectly natural,' she said, that you and every other young woman in due time should wish to be settled; and as I hope to be not only a mistress but a friend to you, and to all who serve me, I wish to know whom you know, that I may be able to advise you for the best, and reward you for good conduct. Always tell me the truth, frankly and simply as you have done now, and I will always be your friend.'

I'm sure they talked of my little token in the parlour, for Miss Annette looked very slyly out of her blue eyes at me the next morning, and asked me if I wore nothing about my neck but my handkercher; but was not that very good entirely of the mistress? Now, I never was used to lying; but, look, after those words of hers, Mrs Mulvany, honey, I'd suffer myself to be eut into sparables before I'd tell her a word of lie; and that's what's ruining me with Mary Dacey-the lies I mean. Oh, Mrs Mul vany, the contrariness of Mary goes beyant the beyands -it's shocking, so it is. There's an old henwife in it-a little put-together of a woman; and she gave out that all the young pullets were cocks, and the old hens past laying, so there never was any fresh eggs for breakfast. Moreover, she let a goose-plucker into the goosery at night, on condition that she was only to take half the feathers off the poor innocent birds. As it was done on the sly, even I did not know it, and the plucker was going on with the brutal work, until one old gander, who, I daresay, was up to the mischief, went bang through the window, and never set foot on the ground until he flew right under the mistress's window, and then the cackling he made woke the dog, that woke the mistress, and she wakes the master, and rings the servants' bell. Up I bounced, and, to my astonishment, Mary was not

in her bed. I ran down to the mistress, and,' Cassidy,' she says-the quality think a surname grander than a Christian one, I suppose-Cassidy,' she says, there's a light in the goosery; go and see what's the matter, and tell Dacey to come to me.'

Well, I went down, and the gander kept on roaring a thousand murders; and when I got out, there was the plucker and the hen-wife, one on a boss, the other on a creepie, plucking for the dear life at an old goose, and half the flock shivering in a corner, and Mary Dacey with a dirty pack of cards in her hand, that had been reading her fortune.*

Go back,' says the old goose-plucker, and say there was a cat or a weazel among the geese.' 'I'll tell no untruth,' I answered; and the master saw the light, besides the gander!

'I wish the devil had him-and I'll give him something will make him stiffer in the wings soon,' says the hen-wife. 'Mistress asked for you,' I said, wondering at their craft, and addressing my words to Mary. Tell her I'm very bad entirely with the toothache,' she said, and that I can't get out of bed.' 'I tell you what,' I replied: you, Anty Mullowny, have no right to sell the birds' feathers unknowst to the mistress.' She won't sell them herself, so I do no harm,' she said. They are not yours,' says L.

"Praich to the skylarks, priest's niece,' she answers. 'Mary,' I said to the lady's maid, for the love of God, and the sake of your character, run in at once; I can tell no lie for you or any one else; I must say if I am asked, and tell the truth."

Oh dear, how mighty righteous we are of a suddent!' exclaimed Mary; but do go your own way; make tales and carry tales, and see what you'll get by it. I don't care.'

'Mary, remember what Don't Care came to,' I answered; and as to making tales, you know I never did that; but certainly I will not see my master and mistress plundered without informing them of it.'

'It does not take a penny out of their pocket,' said the plucker, while the old hen-woman shook her fist in my face, and the lady's maid dropped me a sneer of a curtsey.

Well, Mrs Mulvany, I don't know how it would have ended, had they not seen, from the light of a candle he carried, the master himself picking his steps through the sludge of the yard, on account of the drain of the duckpond being going to be repaired; and the moment Mary Dacey saw the flare of the candle, she turned white as a silver penny.

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'I'm done,' she says, I'm done for ever, if the master catches me here.' We're all done,' says the gooseplucker, shaking a whirl of feathers from her that looked like a snow-storm. We're all done!' And as she said the word, old Anty bundled herself into where a goose, poor thing, was sitting on her eggs, and like lightning she puts herself down on the eggs, and takes the goose in her lap, drawing her head down, for she is but a mite of a woman; the goose-plucker stood her ground, but Mary Dacey fell on her knees to me.

Oh, Mary, avourneen,' she said, 'just stand here that I may creep down behind you, which will get the master to pass me over-do-now do. For the sake of your uncle's soul, don't tell on a poor motherless girl like yerself; I'll burn the cards, and never do wrong again.' Well, Mrs Mulvany, I did let her do as she desired; and maybe when the master came in, was'nt he in a towering passion entirely; for being a gentleman mighty used to his own way, he didn't like being disturbed; and then every minute he opened his mouth to spake, the flaff of the down got into his throat, and then he was dancing mad entirely; and the goose herself, poor thing, got unaisy about her eggs, as good raison she had; and after turning the plucker out, and she on her knees to his honour, Mary,' he says to me, that goose is distressed at something; I hope they haven't poisoned as well as pluck't them; and while he walked over to the far corner with the light to see what ailed the bird, Mary Dacey slipt out, and my heart grew lighter then, for I thought she'd mend for good.

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And indeed I could not help laughing, for the master, angry as he was, did the same thing as he pulled Anty off the eggs; and when the poor goose found them broke, she got into her tantrums, and raised a regular rebellion among the other geesc, so that old Jerry the gander, who had sold the passt on the goose-plucker, came tottering home; and the upshot of it all was, that, in spite of a thousand lies, and as many curses, old Anty was sent off the next morning, and two more, who certainly deserved it, with her; but they did not tell upon Mary Dacey, which at the time I thought very good of them entirely. But now this is my trouble.

I believe Mary's heart softened, but not only must the heart soften with sorrow, but harden against future sin; if it does not, the sorrow does no good. Well, Mary promised me if I did not let on, that she'd change, and give up the card-playing, which, as you told me, brings not only temptation with it, but a hard and heavy curse wherever it is encouraged; and she seemed mighty study and good entirely, until one morning I thought I saw the old goose-plucker in the far shrubbery, waiting under a such as her that servants so often got into trouble; for tree. Now, my poor uncle used to say it was through they maraud through the country, sometimes pulling feathers, sometimes with a basket of hardware, or a pack of soft goods, tempting the foolish girls with finery unfit for them, and taking payment in meal or corn, or apples, or any thing the girls are tempted to take unknowst from their employer, or their parents: this is worst of all, and

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she was so surely on the watch, that I watched her, and by'n by I saw Mary Dacey go to her and give her something blue, but what I can't say. Well, I met Mary at the turn, and she running home for the dear life. She grew red and pale when she saw me. Where have you been?' I says. 'Down the grove for a mouthful of fresh air,' she says. The air is fine and fresh here, Mary,' I says; glory be to God for it!' Maybe I had a bachelor to meet down there,' she says, laughing it off.

May be, Mary,' said I, 'you went to meet the gooseplucker.'

Well, what staggered me, was, she swore such an oath she never set eyes on her since that night; and when I reproached her with her wickedness, and said I knew she was there, she turned on me with the greatest abuse, called me a spy, and said I might be an informer if I liked; that, if she did not see the goose-plucker whenever she sent for her, she would tell the mistress, by a synonymous letter, all I had to do with them before.

Oh! Mrs Mulvany, what am I to do?-the woman is often about the house, and neither master nor mistress knows it. Mary meets her, I know she does, constantly, and master said the first person who encouraged her about the house, should lose their place; and what he says, he'll do. I know she's after no good, and I tell the cook so, and she says the same; but she says also, it's not your business, nor mine; and if ye tell on Mary, she's an orphin, and can have no character if she's turned away for comrading with that old fortune-telling woman, that's the curse of the neighbourhood." [The letter continued to repeat her anxiety as to what she ought to do, and her fears as to whether or not Mary took any thing of value, and her dread of making enemies, and all the various fears and feelings which a well-meaning mind, that nevertheless wants strength, is likely to urge, both to itself and others, as an excuse for not doing at once what it is a duty to do.]

When Mrs Mulvany read the letter, she first of all called to her youngest daughter to be ready to take charge of the shop, as she was going from home for maybe a couple of days. She then asked her husband if she might have the sorrel swinger," as demurely as if she wished him to believe that he really had some command over his stable. And then she ordered "Jem" to saddle the horse, and put on the big pillion and his best "top coat," as she wanted him to look decent. After she had made these arrangements to her perfect satisfaction, she commenced dressing herself in her best, and commented aloud on the contents of the letter, as she did so." That's the way the world gets worse instead of better, and good, honest, industrious servants suspected, because of the bad ones that have gone before them. It's all through the want of a proper feeling of the great principle of truth; that's what it is; confounding the character of an informer, who tells lies, and if he does tell truth, does it for a reward, with that of the truth-teller, who cherishes truth for the love of God, and whose duty it is to prevent evil. What is she to do? Why, if Mary Dacey won't take her warnings, it is her duty, as a servant and a Christian, to tell her mistress. My poor child! she'll get into trouble, that she will! But I don't care a rush for the whole set of them! I'll just give my own Mary's letter into her mistress's hand, plain and above board. Anonymus letter!' he who writes an anonymus letter is a knave, he who believes it a fool. Oh! that servants should be so base as to see their employer robbed; and say, It is not their business,' as if it is not every body's business to prevent robbery, as if we should not speak truth! Oh! if plain-speaking was minded, how seldom we should meet rogues, for they would know that every honest eye was as a watch-tower over the inroads of roguery. To think now that she'd be led by the cook! But that's the way; if one servant does not exactly corrupt another, she saps the foundation of good principles. Mary Dacey, an orphin, indeed! Good reason she should be more careful, after all the warnings, too; and why should she have a character, if she does not deserve it? The idea of letting fraud be practised, because if it was known the person who cheats and robs will not have a character! the person, too, who gives bread, who spends money in his own country instead of going abroad. That little minx, my own Mary, she ought to have known better; but she is young, poor child! However, I'll set it all to rights; I don't care for any of them."

And having so decreed, she strapped on her riding skirt, put on a warm shawl, surmounted her handsome lace-cap by a black beaver hat, which boasted the ornament of a steel buckle; and after her husband had lifted her on the pillion, and the “sorrel swinger" was fairly off at his usual hard, high trot, Mr Mulvany was heard to declare that his wife "grew heavier and handsomer every day of her life."

She had not proceeded far, when she saw strolling towards her the goose-plucker, who was well known to every one in the country.

"Got any thing good and cheap ?" she inquired, as the old rogue looked up at her with an expression of cunning and fear, for rogues had an instinctive dread of Mrs Mulvany.

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Oh! ma'am, there's no good in telling you; for you less show ye any thing." wont let a poor body come within a mile of ye, much

"Well, I'm taking a turn, perhaps," said the shopkeeper; so hand up yer basket, till I have a look." and little looking-glasses that libelled the human face There were threads and tapes, and ribbons and laces, divine, and the usual assemblage of odds and ends; but Mrs Malvany knew, from the weight of the basket, that it contained more than it appeared to do.

How long is it," inquired Mrs Mulvany, "since you were at Castle Hazard ?-how long since ye saw my little pet, Mary Cassidy ?"

A change, too perceptible not to be at once noted by the quick-witted Mrs Mulvany, passed over the goose plucker's face; and in a tone of mingled anxiety and anger she exclaimed, "Yarra wisha! ma'am, give me my basket; sure it's well enough I knew ye didn't want to buy any thing."

"Here's a remnant rolled up of blue satin," persisted

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