most good-humouredly when my father was stiffly unconvinced.

Beside the work above mentioned, Mr. Bulkley had written many things, and was a zealous defender of Lord Shaftesbury from the charge of Deism. These productions he had an art of introducing to notice, which, perhaps, was to be excused. My father could generally guess that a visit from Mr. Bulkley was to produce a claim on his purse-which was urged in the terms of Since I saw you I have written such a thing.' My father of course must desire to have a copy. And such a pamphlet.' 'Well, pray send it me.' And such another,' and so on.

It was very lucky for the Historian of Music, that Bulkley was not as bookprolific as the Scotts and Southeys of our day, or such an insinuating Anabaptist might have deducted a cool hundred or so annually out of his pocket.

There is one thing still wanting in this re printing age-a cheap and careful edition of John Buncle," with a selection of its author's best miscellaneous writings, which, no doubt, are sprinkled, more or less, with the quaintness and singularity of that most quaint and singular of romances. "Cœlebs in search of a Wife" might then walk off to the trunkliners, if he is not there already; for adventurous John would certainly beat him off" the Row."-ILLUScenor.

THE CHARACTER OF THE VENETIANS.

GENERALLY speaking, the Venetians are gentle, affable, polite, courteous, hospitable, and more civilized and better informed than the inhabitants of any other part of Italy. Their conversation is at once entertaining and instructive. The vast number of men of talent, in every art and science, to which the Republic has given birth, is a proof that its lakes are as abundant in genius as they are fertile in the productions of their native element. To mention only a few of the illustrious names who have rendered the Venetian nation immortal-Titus Livius, Petrarco, Trissino, Algarotti, Goldoni, Titian, Tintoretto, Paul Veronese, Palladio, Sansovino, Scarlati, Buranello, Bertoni, Tartini, Canova, &c. are names which, in their respective departments, remain unrivalled, and will be the admiration of the world as long as mankind shall continue to entertain a taste for science and the fine arts. As navigators, the Venetians claim the foremost rank; as war

riors, they stand on an equality with the bravest; and as politicians, they are superior to every other civilized nation in Europe.

The men are above the middle stature, rather inclined to be tall, and remarkably well made. They have good clear complexions, fine expressive countenances, with an elegant and easy deportment. So remarkably constant are they in their attachments, that it is no uncommon thing to hear of friendships, between the sexes, of fifty and sixty years' standing. A Venetian rarely abandons the object of his primitive affection, except for ili-treatment or infidelity; and, even in those instances, he never fails to render her his assistance, should she happen to stand in need of it.

The females, who, generally speaking, are handsome, have very fine figures, with beautifully clear skins,expressive features, and eyes that penetrate the inmost recesses of the soul. They are interestingly delicate in their external manners and in their language, the Venetian being, of all the dialects in Italy, the most agreeable. In the mouth of a genteel Donna Veneziana, it adds to the native grace of her carriage, and never fails to charm and delight the ear of a stranger; especially when it happens to be placed in contrast with the vulgar Lombardian jargon. They are remarkably attentive to foreigners; though they rarely form a tender attachmert for them. When, however, such an attachment does take place, it is usually most passionate and sincere.

The societies at Venice, whether at private houses or at the public casinos, are generally enlivened with the smiling eyes and gentle and fascinating looks of the fair sex, and are conducted with an ele gance and ease superior to most other female societies; and without any of that discordant rivalship of prerogatives too often to be met with elsewhere. The casinos are conducted much in the same manner as the subscription-houses in London; where the members are at liberty to do as they please, with this especial difference, that the ladies only are subscribers, the gentlemen being honorary members. Strangers of respectability, of both sexes, are readily admitted, and meet with a polite and affable reception. The company are entertained with a concert, and treated with refreshments. Cards are introduced at the wish of any of the party;、 and other amusements, except those of hazard. These casinos are furnished in the most costly and elegant style, and are brilliantly lighted up with the beautiful wax candles for which Venice is so justly celebrated.

The regularity, the order, and the mag

nificence which prevail at these princely casinos, at once discover the ladies of Venice to be a superior race of beings to their neighbours of Terra Firma. In their conversation they are lively and unaffected, without levity, and communicative and affable without coquetry.

The uncommon share of Freedom which these ladies enjoy, induces foreigners, who have but a superficial knowledge of them, to form an opinion of them very different from that which they really deserve. The mixed classes of every country have their chiaro scuro. The Venetian ladies are extremely engaging in their manners; and as to their dress, it may be called becoming rather than fashionable, and sets off their fine figures to the greatest advantage. It is not unusual for them to be married to men whom they have never before seen, except through the grate of the convent in which they have been educated, and which they only quit to enter into the gay world, through the temple of Hymen-where Cupid rarely presides beyond the honey-moon! And, to this very liberty, which they enjoy the moment they are married, is to be ascribed, that they are usually not so capricious as the Italians of the south, who are more rigorously subjected to antiquated external formalities.

At one period, the Venetians were so suspicious of their wives and daughters, that they never allowed them to walk out; and, to prevent their doing so, they even obliged them to wear exceedingly highheeled shoes, which, as it were, suspended the foot from the toe upwards, raising the other extremity nearly ten inches, and making it almost parallel with the leg; in consequence of which, their feet became cramped, like those of the Chinese.

The usual dresses of the noble Venetians, in the time of the Republic, somewhat resembled the black gowns worn by our judges, having ermine on one side. The robes of ceremony were of crimson damask, very long; and they were habited in full powdered wigs, like those worn by the gentlemen of the bar. This was the usual dress of the Dege; except on special occasions, when he wore one made of gold brocade, with a massy gold chain round his neck, and a coronet on his head of the same materials, over a wig and velvet cap. The dress of the noble ladies was a rich black velvet, according to the season, skirt with a long train, a coloured body and sleeves, and a black silk veil that covered the head and shoulders, was crossed on the neck and round the waist, and fell tastefully behind on the black skirt. It was generally trimmed with black lace, and was very becoming when properly

a

put on.

Under the veil they wore a skeleton wire shape, to keep it from falling on the face, which was called vesta e sendal. Foreigners generally adopted this dress on their arrival at Venice: but few could put them on so tastily as the natives. Madame Mara, when singing at Venice, always wore this dress during the morning; and she was accustomed to say, that she never pleased her auditors more than when she was thus attired.

In the church, at mass, and at all public places, the ladies wore this dress. During the time of the Carnival they could never go to the theatre or opera without the tabbara e bauta: which was a long cloak of black or coloured silk, with a black silk cap, and a lace trimming placed round, nearly a yard in length, which fell over the shoulders half way down their figures. Over their faces they wore a mask, and on their heads a man's three-cornered hat, ornamented with feathers and a cockade. But, the moment they reached their boxes, the cap and mask were taken off, until they left the opera; when they were immediately replaced, until they had passed to their gondolas.

This dress, together with the mask, were worn during Carnival time, the feast of the Ascension, and at some other public festivals; which, altogether, occupied nearly six months out of the twelve; and only at these seasons, and in this dress, were they permitted to hold converse with the corps diplomatique resident at Venice.

The gondolas were all painted black, and highly varnished In the middle of this elegant little vessel is a cushioned bench, for two persons; and on each side there is another, sufficient to hold one person. The tilt, or awning, resembles a hearse, with windows and Venetian blinds. The outer part is covered with black cloth, trimmed with tassels; the inner with silk; and a curtain, of the same materials as the outside, serves as a door of entrance. The gondolas of the foreign ministers, and of other distinguished personages, had generally coloured silk curtains, by which they could always be distinguished from those of the Venetians.

After the conquest of the Greek Islands, Constantinople, Cyprus, Candia, and the Morea, by the Republic, from the vast influx of wealth and luxury, and the great increase of population from the Terra Firma, it became necessary, in order to preserve virtuous females from violence, to allot-in imitation of the ancient Romans-a certain retired part of the city, for the habitations of the improperly called

Meretrices; and, to prevent those dreadful evils, for which two great cities were once destroyed by fire, the Senators would walk in the public square of St. Mark, by the side of these necessary evils; who, at the approach of evening, were required to exhibit themselves between two lighted candles, at the windows of their apartments. Under the present government, the frail sisterhood are licensed, and pay a regular tax; and are permitted to follow their profession-pro bono publicowherever they think fit.- -Italy in the 19th Century.

And when shut out from this world's grief, The quiet sleep of death comes o'er her, I close the eye in fond belief,

That strife of heart has gone before her.

Then when I've raised the storied urn, That tells the wandering passer by, To love as I have loved, and learn, Like her to live, like me to die.

Near the murmuring brooks meander, O'er the sod where she doth sleep, Where nor grave nor gay shall wander, There I'll go and silent weep.

Unnoted there I'll live, I'll die,

There I'll seek the long sought bower, And wing my way where one on high, Shall recompense life's bitter hour. W. MORLEY.

THE LAST TEAR.

(For the Olio.)

I saw the mother calmly weep,
O'er her cradled infant dying,
I marked the tearful anguish peep,
Wan melancholy's smile belying.

And then I mused on parting breath,
Of innocence, and kindred feeling,
And then I prayed of envious death,
That he would gently work his dealing.

I spoke in comfort to the heart,

That well I knew was silent breaking, I sought to play the soother's part, But mine alas! was sorely aching.

I tried to hide th' expiring sigh,

And sombre tint of torture's seeming, I told in place of realms on high, Where blissful peace was ever teeming.

But when the death smile sweetly shone, I told her then her babe was dying, One sob escaped, and only one,

To heaven's light innoxious hieing.

And she that died, I've heard her say,
Was like to him I ne'er had known,
But he had gone like her, away,
And knelt at Heaven's Throne,

The story of her life has drawn,

From tearful founts the drop of sorrow, She deems that every friend has gone, To greet on high, life's morrow.

But there is one whom she has slighted,
By-gone days of love will tell,
But tho' by her that love was blighted,
It round her still shall dwell.

He murmurs not unwelcome love,
He speaks not of the poisoned shaft,
Nathless it might him now behove,
The goaded sigh to waft.

But let it rest where long it has, Ungnaw'd by time, where still it rages, The shadow now of what it was,

In her remembrance only wages.

And still she seems to mourn in peace,

Nor courts the grave where she is going, For death hath traced in that sweet face, The dam that stops the tear from flowing.

THE GRAVE OF CRIME.

He sleeps, but ah! how troubled is his rest,
No breeze that keeps the vigils of the blest,
Sighs the sad requiem, o'er his stony bed,
But loose, rough winds have threatened, and
they filed.

So should a wicked, life's last couch, be laid
Without the solace of a cooling shade,
To spread its lonely balm at evening.tide,
Upon the waving grass; which parched, and
dried,

Would wave no more, nor shade the tomb of peace,

Bidding the grief, of fond relation's cease And dry their tears, when they beheld the spot Where noise ne'er strays, where passion wan

ders not,

But O for him no pleasant spot like this,
The bones of crimes, must never sleep in bliss,
He sported with the world, and with its joy,
Ere sorrow came, to furrow; and destroy
The healthful blush youth's gaiety had spared
Through all the dangers restless manhood
dar'd;

But sorrow came, not singly, in his age,
His hair grew silvery; and the open page,
Where lie enclosed, the jewels of the mind,
Where genius, splendid image, is enshrined,
Was furrowed, by the world's unfeeling scorn,
Which since hath felt his tomb, unshaded and
forlorn!
W.

THE LEADING PROFESSION.

THE choice of a profession was in all times an affair of difficulty, and it has become peculiarly so at a period when the avenues to success, whether in the walks of theology, of law, or of medicine, are blocked up by a crowd of eager competitors. Nor is the path to wealth, by the more beaten track of commercial pursuits, less impeded by the struggles of rivalry, the intrigues of connexion, or the overwhelming preponderance of enormous capital. For adventurous young men, not cursed by nature with a modest or studious turn, and who are impatient to take the post of honour by a coup-de

main, a state of war offers the ample field of the profession of arms; but in a time of peace that field is narrowed to a very aristocratic circle, and the plebeian spirit learns to be tamed in the never ending rebuffs of the Horse Guards and of the Admiralty. All things considered, and with a due regard to the necessary education, the certain rewards, and the few chances of failure, it appears to us that the profession which involves the least individual expence in its necessary studies, the aspirants being constantly trained at the public cost-which is supported by the greatest excitement of popular observation, so as to satisfy the most insatiate appetite for fame-which presents the most open field for exertion, so as to leave the adventurer the largest choice of opportunities—and which is fenced round from the attacks of private envy or revenge, by the most powerful support of innumerable functionaries-that most cherished and honoured profession is that of a THIEF.

And first, of the education for this profession.

We will imagine a youth to whom the honours of his calling are not hereditary. He has been brought up as other youths are, either in absolute ignorance of the world which has preceded him, and the world which is before him; or with such an acquaintance with the tendencies of mankind as they are learned in the book of history, or the safer volume of experience, as will satisfy him that the least successful of the sons of men are the most conscientious. If he be utterly uninstructed in book-learning, and yet have a tolerable acquaintance with the things around him, he will see (if he open his eyes) that the one thing needful is money, --that cunning has a much surer grasp of that summum bonum than wisdom; -and that the contempt of society is only reserved for the poor. Hence poverty, as Taileyrand said of the execution of the Duc d'Enghien, is worse than a crimeit is a blunder. If he derive his knowledge from the half truths, half fables of the records of his species, he will discover that fraud and violence have always secured to themselves a much larger portion of what are called the blessings of life-competency, luxury, high station, influence, command-than sincerity and moderation. If he live in the country, he has constantly presented to his eyes the condition of a vast many miserable people, who are reduced to the utmost extremity of perpetual suffering,-their honest pride trampled upon, their affections outraged, their commonest wants unsupplied, and for no personal demerit that he can perceive, but because

they are laborious, patient, inoffensive, easily satisfied, content to do their duty in the station to which they are born. If he abide in a city, he discovers that the most direct modes of obtaining a living are ill paid-that squalid filth follows the scanty earnings of the mechanic-that the tradesman who vends an honest commodity cannot compete with the quack and the puffer that insolent vice always thrusts modest virtue into the kennel. In either case he perceives that mankind, directly or indirectly, spend their lives in endeavours to abstract more than they have a right to abstract from the property of their neighbours. He commences, by dint of hard reasoning, a professional career of resolving to practice that philosophy which teaches him that the institutions of society are chains only for the weak. If he be a peasant he tries his hand at poaching, if a London blackguard, at picking pockets. In either case the law soon takes charge of his further educa-: tion; and he is duly sent to that most instructive Alma Mater,-a prison.

The care which is now bestowed upon the nurture of his infant hopes is prodigious. He has abundant leisure for the cultivation of his faculties: he has no anxiety about the events of the passing day: he is introduced to the full enjoyment of the society of the most careless, enthusiastic, and undaunted men in existence, as well as to the ablest instructors in his peculiar art. All knowledge, but that which is to lead him to excellence in the profession which he now must choose, is despised ;-all views of the social state, but those which regard man as a predatory animal, are held to be low and unattractive, all employments of the talents of the human race, but those which present themselves to the lion heart in the shape of burglary, and to the cautious understanding in the not less attractive forms of coining and shop-ilfting, are pronounced to be mean and ungratifying.

The facility with which the profession of a thief is acquired is a wonderful recommendation of its excellent and manifold advantages. In this college, the honours are bestowed after an examina-> tion for which the previous study is very inconsiderable - the "wooden-spoon", feels that his rank is by no means settled in the estimation of his examiners, but that a successful adventure may place him in the first degree of the beloved of Bow Street ;-and even he that is "plucked" for wanting in the reckless qualities by which excellence is attained, may hope to prepare himself next session (the "term" of our houses of felo

nious maintenance) for the most distinguished companionship of that fraternity, which, above all others, generously delights in imparting its blessings to novices by the most unremitting system of proselytism.

Nor is it any degradation from the agreeable nature of this education (when compared to education in general) to say, that the student often receives bodily chastisement in the progress of his willing labours. The laws have no punishments which touch his mind. If he be remand ed to his prison, he is only condemned to a further acquaintance with the agreeable society to which he was introduced when he first entered its walls. He bas formed friendships which will last for life; he is secure of patronage when he comes out again upon the stirring world, he will, in future, have no lack of counsellors and abettors. Admit that he is sentenced to be privately whipped; in this he does not differ an ounce from the highest of the land. The boys of the middle classes have been gradually becoming more exempt from the terrors of indecent bodily chastisement; but inflictions upon the persons are still the peculiar privileges of the noble students of Westminster and Eton, and the not less ambitious denizens of Newgate and Brixton. Long may they each enjoy these ancient and politic rights, which have such a decided influence upon the destinies both of the statesman and of the felon !

From the moment that our aspirant leaves his first prison, he becomes a public man. His preparation for the duties of life is complete. He rushes at once into his stimulating career; and he reaps a full harvest of profit and of fame. Less fortunate candidates for distinction may waste an existence in obtaining a single puff of the newspapers. Thousands of authors die for lack of criticism ;-painters go off by scores, because no obscure scribbler ever echoes their names; the finest of women have been figurantes at the opera for twenty seasons, without having attained to the recorded dignity of a pas-seul at the Surrey, and ostentatious citizens have given dozens of dinners, to which some gentlemen of the press were duly invited, and yet never once saw their magnificence, under the head of "Court and Fashion," in the Morning Post. But the very first adventure of a thief is fame. Is a watch snatched out of a window in the Strand, ten daily papers and two hundred and fifty weekly immediately describe the astonishing incident in the most glowing colours;-is a pocket picked in the pit-entrance of Drury

Lane, the embryo hero of the evening sees his fame duly chronicled in the morning journals and lastly, if by some error in judgment he appear before Sir Richard Birnie, he excites the sympathy of all mankind, being 66 a remarkably good-looking and interesting young man, attired (yes, attired is the phrase) in the highest style of fashion, and his hair elegantly arranged." Who can resist such flatteries as these? After such encouragements, what candidate for the final honours of the New Drop would abandon his stimulating career, and retire, (if he could) to the prose of common life,

Content to dwell in decencies for ever?

The legislative care which is bestowed upon the commonwealth of thieves must be abundantly gratifying to every member of the profession. Their calling never cankers by neglect; they must have a perpetual vigilance as to what laws are enacted and what are repealed; what is grand larceny to-day and petty larceny to-morrow; the statistics of their realm, too, are known and registered with the greatest accuracy. The condition of their palaces forms the constant object of magisterial and parliamentary solicitude, and societies are specially constituted in aid of all this official vigilance, to see that their apartments are airy and their provisions wholesome. The most affectionate care of their health is duly taken; and if, at any period of their lives, foreign travel is recommended, a country, which is admitted on all hands to be the finest in the world, is specially appropriated for their enjoyment. All this is highly stimulating.

(To be continued.)

THE STAGE-COACHMAN.

'Going down, Sir

Aye. Give me a lift:—all right.'

To be the complete Stage-coachman,' he should be clothed in boots, coats, pockets, and neckcloths. When thus equipped, he takes the reins and the whip, mounts the coach-box adroitly, gives a click with his tongue, peculiar to drivers of horses, which they well understand, and the light or heavy apparatus of the vehicle runs nobly along to the known destination. Previously to starting, however, he contrives, if possible, to get a female, (and a handsome one, too,) courageous enough to seat herself beside him, and whom he entertains with success