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observable with regard to the inability to write, though the excess was not so remarkable as in this

case.

The Registrar-General does not appear to have entered into any consideration, for which the marriage registers seem to furnish facilities, as to how far, if in any degree, the disposition towards early marriage,

which we have seen manifests itself in such varied

About two o'clock in the afternoon they were observed by some persons crossing the river Thames, nearly seven miles from the place at which they set off. This was the only intelligence we had of them for thirteen days. concluded that they must either have perished with After they had been absent for some time, their friends hunger and cold, or have been destroyed by the wounded bear. I was strongly of opinion that they had been frozen to death, for the weather was excessively cold, proportions in the different parts of England, may and they were slightly clothed, without a tinder-box, have been encouraged or affected by the absence of and totally unprovided with any means of shielding education among the parties married, so far as the in- themselves from the inclemency of the weather. I thereability to write, as shown by the marriage registers, fore assembled a large party of the settlers pertaining to may be indicative of such absence. This seems of the townships of London and Nassouri, and proposed much importance; and we ourselves have been at the that we should stock ourselves with provisions for a few pains to make a comparison between the two tables days, and go in quest of the two unfortunate hunters. in the report, one of them showing the mean propor- To this proposal they unanimously agreed; and we set tion per cent. of persons married under twenty-one off on the following morning, provided with pocket comyears of age, and the other, the mean proportion per passes and trumpets, a good supply of ammunition, and cent. of the persons married who signed the marriage the necessary apparatus for lighting fires, taking with us register with marks; and the result is such as fairly between their departure and ours a partial thaw had some of the best dogs in the country. In the interval to lead to the conclusion, that the disposition to marry taken place, which left not the slightest layer of snow early is in some degree influenced by the want of eduupon the ground, except in low and swampy situations. cation, among other causes. We find, for example, We had therefore no tracks for our direction, nor any that the eight counties of Bedfordshire, Huntingdon- idea of the course which Howay and Nowlan had taken, shire, Cambridgeshire, Hertfordshire, Northampton- except what we had obtained from the persons who saw shire, Essex, the West-Riding of Yorkshire, Stafford- them crossing the Thames on the day of their departure. shire, and Wiltshire, wherein the disposition towards We had no very sanguine hopes of finding them; but early marriage has been shown to prevail in the high-continued for two days to explore thousands of acres of est degree, are precisely the counties in which the interminable forests and desolate swamps, apparently want of education, as respects the inability to write, untrodden by human foot, yet without the most distant is proved by the marriage registers to exist in the prospect of success. We returned home, having given up all expectation of seeing them again, either living or dead. greatest proportions among the parties married. And the same coincidence is more or less observable the two adventurous settlers, and all hope of their return Thirteen days had now elapsed since the departure of throughout the remaining counties, and especially is had completely vanished. On the morning of Christmasit remarkable with regard to the metropolis-Mon-day, as I was in the act of sending messengers to some of mouthshire, and North and South Wales, forming Howay's most intimate acquaintance, to request them to almost the only striking exceptions. take an inventory of his property, I was informed that he and his companion had returned a few hours before, alive, but in a most wretched condition. When I had see them, for I felt anxious to hear from themselves an recovered in some measure from my surprise, I went to account of their extraordinary preservation [which was as follows]:

AN AMERICAN BEAR-CHASE.

MR N. P. WILLIS, in his very beautiful work on Canada, publishing at present in highly embellished numbers,* presents a variety of details on the field-sports of the northern settlers, and among others the following story of adventure in the pursuit of bears, which he quotes from Talbot's Travels:

"One of my father's settlers, of the name of Howay, discovered the tracks of three bears on the morning of the 11th December; and, after following them for about three miles, came to the tree in which they had taken up their quarters. Having his dog, his gun, and his axe with him, he began to cut down the tree, the trunk of which was at least sixteen feet in circumference. Whilst

engaged in this employment, he occasionally directed his eyes upward, to see if his motions disturbed the bears in the place of their retreat. He became at length weary of acting as sentry to the prisoners, and had nearly forgotten this needful precaution, when, in the midst of his hewing, a large piece of bark struck him on the head. This aroused his attention, and, on looking again, he discovered, to his great consternation, one of the bears descending the tree in the usual manner, tail foremost.

Apprehensive that he might be attacked by his black friend, which he perceived was coming down with every appearance of hostility, he laid down his axe, and, taking up his gun, resolved to discharge its contents into the body of Bruin. Upon reflection, however, he desisted; for he was afraid, if he only wounded the animal, his own life would be the forfeit of his eager temerity. While he was thus deliberating, his dog perceived the bear, then only a few yards from the ground, and, by his barking, alarmed the brute so much that he ran up the tree with inconceivable swiftness. On arriving at the opening into the trunk, he turned himself about, and, looking down attentively, surveyed the dog and his master. Howay now regretted that he had not called upon some of his neighbours to assist him; but being afraid that if he should then go for any one the bears would in the mean time effect their escape, he rallied his courage, and, resuming his gun, lodged a ball in the bear's neck, which fortunately brought him lifeless to the ground. Victory generally inspires the conqueror with fresh courage, and

is seldom the forerunner of caution. The conduct of Howay, however, affords an exception to a rule so generally acknowledged; for, instead of being elated by his success, and stimulated to pursue his conquest, he reflected that, although he had been thus far fortunate, the favourable issue was to be imputed more to casualty than to any particular exertion of his own prowess, and concluded, that if he continued to fell the tree, he might in his turn become the vanquished. He therefore very prudently determined to go home and bring some of his neighbours to his aid. Leaving the bear at the foot of the tree, he departed, and in a short time returned with two men, three dogs, and an additional axe. They soon succeeded in cutting down the tree, which, when falling, struck against another, and broke off about the middle, at the identical spot where the beasts lodged. Stunned and confused, the affrighted animals ran so close to one of the men, that he actually put the muzzle of his gun close to its shoulder and shot two balls through its body. The other escaped unhurt; and the dogs pursued the wounded one till he compelled them to return with their flesh badly lacerated.

By this time the winter sun had ceased to shed his refulgent beams upon that portion of the globe, and the men deemed it imprudent to follow the tracks until the succeeding morning; when Howay, accompanied by a person of the name of Nowlan, an American by birth, and of course well acquainted with the woods, followed the tracks, having previously provided themselves with a rifle, an axe, about six charges of powder and shot, and bread and meat sufficient for their dinner. This was early in the morning of Thursday the 12th of December. *London: George Virtue. 4to, with plates.

which took a north-western course for at least twenty On the day of their departure, they pursued the bear, difficulty they lit a fire, having contrived to produce a miles, and at night stopped upon his track. With great light by the application of a piece of dry linen to the pan they spent the first night, which was exceedingly cold, of their gun whilst flashing it. Thus, before a good fire, both supperless and sleepless.

In the morning they continued the chase, as soon as they had eaten a small piece of bread, the crumbs or fragments of their dinner on the preceding day. This was equally divided between themselves and their dog. About noon, when they had travelled on the track, through all its windings and doublings, for at least twenty miles, they were unable to distinguish the north from the south, and of course considered themselves lost in the boundless immensity of interminable forests. They resolved to pursue the bear no longer, conscious that it would lead them still farther into the wilderness, from

whence they apprehended they could not without difficulty extricate themselves, for the snow was disappear ing fast, and the rain continuing to increase. They now crossed over the track of another bear, which they fanrecollected that, in the early part of the day, they had cied would lead them to the settlements. This they unwisely resolved to follow, consoling themselves with the thought, that, if it should not conduct them to the abodes of man, it might lead them to the bear's retreat; and that if they should succeed in killing him in a spot even remote from any settlement, his flesh would afford them nourishment, and his skin a more comfortable couch than the snow-covered deserts on which they had bivouacked the preceding night. Hope, which-though it often bids desponding thoughts depart, and sometimes cheers us in the darkest hour-is too frequently the cause of our expecting where expectation is vain and disappointment ruinous, had, in the present instance, nearly precipitated its unfortunate votaries into the vortex of irretrievable misery. They followed on the track, until the snow completely disappeared, and the sky became so dreadfully overcast, that they were compelled to relinquish all ideas of hunting, and to think only of escaping from solitude and starvation. They were by this time on the banks of a small rivulet, the course of which they resolved to pursue, expecting that it would eventually lead them to the Thames, into which they calculated, as a matter of undoubted certainty, it emptied itself. On the banks of this rivulet they passed the second night, but were not able to get any sleep. It rained incessantly, and they suffered much from their exposed situation, for they were only partially covered with a few strips of bark.

On the third day they continued their journey down the brook, which, growing wider and wider, inclined them to think it was the head of some extensive river, and they hoped it would prove to be that of the Thames. The violence of the storm began to subside about noon, but without any abatement of the cold, or cessation of the rain, which continued to fall during the whole of the day. A little before sunset they fired at a partridge, but unfortunately missed it. Another joyless night found them waking in all its watches.

On the fourth day they felt excessively hungry and weak; their thirst also was insatiable, being compelled every five or six minutes to drink. In the afternoon, their hunger increased to such a degree, that they could have eaten any thing except human flesh. Sixty hours had now elapsed without their having tasted food of any kind, and the appalling idea of suffering by starvation for the first time obtruded itself. Before the close of the day, however, they succeeded in shooting a partridge, one-half of which they imprudently ate as their supper,

and feasted on the remainder at breakfast the ensuing morning. Little more than one charge of powder was now left; and this they resolved to preserve for lighting fires, knowing, as the frost had again set in, that if they the protection of a fire, they must inevitably perish. were exposed for a single night to the weather, without

The fifth night proved extremely cold, and Nowlan perceived, in the morning, that his feet were badly frozen. Pitiable as their situation was before this heart-rending event, it then became still more wretched. This unfortunate man had now to endure a complication of unprecedented sufferings. To the imperative hankerings of hunger which he could not satisfy, a continual thirst which he could not appease, a violent fever which seemed not to abate, and the pelting of the pitiless storm,' from which he had no shelter, there was added a species of torment the most excruciating that human nature is doomed to suffer. Until this deplorable event, they had travelled at least fifty miles a-day, walking, or, as they expressed it, running, from before sunrise until after suntheir accustomed journey, and even that with the utmost set. They were now unable to perform more than half difficulty.

On the afternoon of the sixth day, the sun appeared for a few moments, and convinced them that they were not on the banks of the Thames. The knowledge of this gave them much uneasiness, from a conviction which it impressed on their minds, that they were on the banks of a river which might lead them to the desolate and uninhabited shores of Lake Huron or Lake St Clair. Still they preferred following its course, hoping to discover some Indian settlement, which they could have no expectation of finding if they departed from its margin. Immediately after the sun had disappeared, they discofarther down, a canoe. vered a boat on the opposite side of the river, and, a little induced them to think that a new settlement could not The appearance of these vessels be far distant; but when they had travelled several miles farther, and had not met with any other traces of inhabitants, they concluded that the vessels had been driven down the river by the ice during the late thaw, and had been stopped at the point where they were first noticed. night, when they observed a stack of hay a few perches They were just about to cut down some timber for the before them, and on their side of the river. The hay appeared to have been mowed on the flats, or shallows, where it grows spontaneously beneath the gloomy shades of the overhanging forest. This circumstance, when coupled with their recent discovery of the boat and canoe, convinced them that they were in the immediate neighbourhood of some settlement. The hay-stack afforded them a comfortable asylum for the night, and appeared to them the most enviable bed on which they had ever reclined.

On the morning of the seventh day, they rose much refreshed, having enjoyed, for the first time since they left home, a few hours of sound sleep. They were confirmed afresh, by the incident of the stack, in their resolution to keep close to the river, being elated with the idea that it would certainly lead them to some inhabited place. But their dog, the faithful companion of their dangers and partaker in their sufferings, was that morning unable to proceed any farther. When he attempted to follow them, he staggered a few paces, and then fell, but had not power to rise again. The hunger of the men

had by this time increased to such a degree, that they could have eaten the most loathsome food; yet they de sisted from killing the dog; they left him to die a lingering death rather than imbrue their hands in the blood of a fellow-sufferer. Scarcely had they proceeded a mile beyond the hay-stack, when they were intercepted by an impassable swamp, which compelled them to leave the Difficulties seemed to surround them on every hand, and success appeared to smile on them for a moment but to add to their other sufferings the pangs of blighted hope and bitter disappointment. They were compelled to wander once more into the pathless desert, with very faint expectations of regaining the river.

direction of the river.

They walked a considerable distance on the eighth day, and at four o'clock on the ninth discerned the tracks of two men and a dog. They now imagined the long-wished for settlement at hand. With renewed spirit and alacrity, therefore, they pushed onward, indulging by the way the pleasing reflection, that the issue of the newly-discovered track would ere long terminate their woes, and bring them to enjoy once more the unspeakable pleasure of human society. Judge, then, what must have been their feelings, when, towards evening, they were brought to the very spot on which they had lain five nights before! Hope now no longer shed her delusive rays into their hearts; and they neither had a thought, nor felt a desire, to prolong existence.

After indulging in the gloomiest reflections for nearly an hour-during which time they both declared, that if a tree had then been in the act of falling on them, they would not have made any exertion to escape from its destructive stroke-they began to look upon it as their duty to employ the means which Providence had placed within their reach for the preservation of that life which He who gave possessed the sole right of taking away; and they resolved once more to light a fire. This they accomplished with the utmost difficulty, for they were so much debilitated as to be scarcely able to exert themselves in collecting a sufficient quantity of fuel. As they consumed the last grain of their powder in this operation, they became susceptible but of one emotion-that of indescribable horror, at the idea of being compelled, ere another night should elapse, to pay the debt of nature in a manner the most abhorrent to their feelings. They now conversed freely, but in a melancholy strain, on the method in which it was most likely that the frost would accomplish their destruction; and agreed in the opinion that it would first attack the extremities of their bodies, and gradually proceed up towards the vitals, until their hearts'-blood should become congealed to ice. After this discourse they lay down, almost unmindful of the past and careless about the future. endeavouring to re

sign themselves to the fate which awaited them, whatever that might be.

Mr Albright was a smart bustling little man, with reddish hair, light grey eyes, and a murky, yellowish On the morning of the ninth day of their deplorable complexion. He was usually dressed in a dark green wanderings, they arose in a state of perfect apathy, and surtout, broad white-corded small-clothes, top-boots, a began to traverse the same lands which they had so re-riding-whip under his arm, and his hat placed rather luctantly trodden six days before. In the evening they backwards, so as to make the most of his small head. arrived at the hay-stack, where they left the dog. They He affected an appearance of great professional pracfound him still living, but unable to get upon his feet. He was reduced to a mere skeleton, and appeared to be tice, until he ultimately made a very lucrative one. in the agonies of death. The desire of life once more Whilst standing with me in the street, he bowed to took its seat in their hearts, and they resolved to seek every respectable person, even if they were merely diligently for some sort of food. Their appetites were now passing strangers; for, as he observed at the time, " If so unconquerably ravenous, that they stripped the bark they are not patients now, they may be, you knowoff an elm tree, and devoured large quantities of its inner ha ha! ha!" This was the kind of man whose praise rind. Scarcely had they eaten it, however, when they had quite intoxicated me. For, if I had not been became exceedingly delirious, and were forced to lie blinded by my own excessive vanity, his glaring and down among the hay, where they remained until morn- palpable superficiality would have been apparent to ing in an agony of despair. me. But, in order to let you see the whole of Mr By daylight, on the tenth morning, they were much Albright's character, I must tell you that, before he Detter, and would have arisen; but, recollecting that they left me on this memorable occasion, he told me "to now possessed no materials for lighting a fire, they resolved to roll themselves up in the hay again, and quietly take a large house in the vicinity of London, to pubawait the hour of dissolution, whenever it should arrive. contained a single original thought, and in this way lish an elementary treatise, no matter whether it Their resolution had but just been formed, when they heard the joyful sound of a cow-bell, which seemed to obtain a reputation and a large fortune; and," said proceed from the opposite shore of the river. They the little man, "I'll stake my ruby ring to a nut-shell, arose immediately, and, on looking over the water, per- that you will become a popular lecturer, and gain an ceived to their infinite satisfaction a log-house recently imperishable fame!" Such verbiage seemed, at the erected, but yet without any appearance of inhabitants. time, like spicy and fragrant zephyrs to my excited For some time they felt inclined to doubt the evidence feelings, and I inhaled and relished the dose for its of their senses, and to consider the log-house as a crea- honied sweetness. The quantity was so potent, that ture of their disturbed imaginations. They recollected it acted on my heart and brain, until my imagination passing that way before without observing any building; revelled in all the anticipated joy of a well-lighted but, on calling to mind the circumstance of seeing the theatre, with crowded benches, and mine ears were boat and the canoe, they were convinced that all was reality-delightful, heart-cheering reality! They there-greeted with the rapturous applauses of my ideal fore resolved, by some means or other, to ford the river; and, walking with feeble steps but bounding hearts along the bank, they soon discovered a crossing place. On arriving at the opposite shore, they were met by a white man and two Indians, who took them to the house of one Townsend, with whom they were well acquainted, and from whom they experienced every mark of attention which their wretched condition required. The heart of sensibility, if conversant with affliction, may form some estimate of their feelings at that moment. If a single feeling had then any marked preponderance over another, it must have been that of gratitude-boundless, unspeakable gratitude, to the protecting power of an Almighty and gracious Deliverer.

A few months previous to this event, Townsend had discovered a salt-spring on the banks of the river Sauble, and was at this time preparing to commence a manufactory of that article at a distance of nearly twenty miles from any human habitation. This embryo salt-manufactory was the building which Howay and Nowlan discovered after they heard the ringing of the cow-bell. It was a fortunate circumstance for them; for if this spot had been uninhabited, as it was a short time before, they must unquestionably have breathed their last on the banks of that unexplored river, which flows into Lake Huron, at a point which is nearly one hundred miles from any settlement. They were only thirty miles from the lake when interrupted by the swamp, in avoiding which they had inadvertently wandered back into the woods; and, on discovering their own tracks, returned unconsciously to the place where they had lain five nights before-a catastrophe which, at the time, they lamented as a dire misfortune, but which afterwards was the cause of their final deliverance. At Townsend's house they were fifty miles from home, every yard of which they had to travel through the wilderness, but not without the aid of a blazed line to direct them. Nowlan's feet were by this time in a very bad condition; and as he could not procure at that lonely dwelling the materials necessary to prevent mortification, which he was apprehensive would very soon take place, he and his companion set off early on the following morning. Mrs Townsend kindly furnished them with provisions, and every thing necessary for their journey; and on the eve of the thirteenth day after their departure from the Talbot Settlement, they had once more the happiness of enjoying the comforts of their own firesides. So much for the pleasures of the American bear-chase!"

TWO OPINIONS, OR WHICH IS BEST? IN my native town in Lincolnshire, there resided a medical gentleman named Albright, and a worthy divine whom I must take leave to name Dr Doubtmuch: two beings more opposite in the cast of their minds could not be conceived. My father, bless him! being an easy sort of a man, allowed me to choose my own future profession, but requested that I would consult these two gentlemen, as he calculated that, in all probability, their difference of character would give me an excellent idea of the world, and some useful hints for my future guidance in it.

Unfortunately for my peace of mind, I met Mr Albright just as I was going to the house of Dr Doubtmuch, and related to him my plan, which was to become a teacher of experimental philosophy, that being, in my opinion, less laborious and more profitable than any of the three learned professions, and more gentlemanly than trade. Mr Albright stared as if he considered me an intellectual prodigy; and then exclaimed, in an enthusiastic manner, "Admirable plan! Pray, my dear Mr Weathercock, is it your whole and sole suggestion?-for really, sir," he continued, "it shows a greatness of mind, a profundity of thought, and a brightness of idea, that is truly surprising for so young a man." This hyperbole, which he used upon all occasions, was a delicious dose to my vanity. I was always lean and upright, like a hop-pole; but this extraordinary jargon made me seem to grow some inches higher.

auditors. My good fortune seemed such a matter of
certainty, that I did not bestow another thought on
the worthy Dr Doubtmuch; and I should have declined
asking his opinion, had not my good father urged me
to do so; for, as he remarked, "the anti-phlogistic
treatment of my reverend friend will allay your feve-
rish symptoms, Tom, and restore you to a state of
common sense."

As the peculiar character of Dr Doubtmuch will be
developed in relating my interview with that gentle-
man, it may be as well now to advert to some minor
points of it, and give some general idea of his personal
appearance. Dr Doubtmuch was a very tall and stout
man, with a ponderous head, and features exceedingly
well defined; his mouth pouted out some inches be-
yond his fat double chin; his Bardolph nose had a
most prolific appearance; and this noble member was
overlooked by two full staring eyes, protected by very
bushy eyebrows, overhanging them like the gable-end
of a thickly thatched roof. Nature seemed determined
to make this specimen of her handiwork quite sym-
metrical, although he was much above all ordinary
sized men. If the doctor stored his capacious head
with intellectual matter, he did not forget to nourish
his bodily organs. He had a great capacity for all
things, whether consisting of the spiritual, subtle, im-
material properties of thought, or the substantial
articles for eating and drinking. His walk every
morning seldom extended beyond the market-place,
where, with the nicest discrimination, he selected the
dainties of the season for his dinner. He would then
return and shut himself up in his study; and was
surly and rude if intruded upon by any one. Persons
desirous of having his advice, or to ask him some
pecuniary favour, never ventured to visit him until
an hour or two after dinner, when his better feelings
were thawed and warmed into a state of cheerfulness
by the many good things of which he had recently
partaken. At such times he would be all civility to
those who called upon him.

On the memorable evening on which I paid him a visit, he was sitting in a great arm-chair, and had been seemingly drinking more than his usual quantity, for he stared as if all did not appear quite clear before him; besides which, his tongue seemed rather too heavy to move, for he pointed to a chair, and nodded to me to occupy it. But I remained quite silent, until he asked me very laconically-"What do you want, Mr Weathercock?" I then did my tale unfold, to which he listened with seeming attention, until 1 unfortunately said "that Mr Albright admired my plan very much." At the mention of Albright's name, the eyes of the old doctor flashed with indignation; and, bending his head forward, like one who fancies he does not hear correctly, he bawled out with a stentorian voice-" WHAT!" Had it been a clap of thunder bursting over his house, or a musket-ball suddenly whizzing past my head, I could not have been more effectually startled from my seat than I was at the enraged "WHAT!" I actually felt a spasmodic action of the heart; and, when I recovered from the stupor it induced, Í perceived an expression of extreme contempt written on the features of my censor. Yet I did not venture to say any thing, but looked rather timidly at him, and encountered his large full eyes, when he said, in an irritated tone, "Why, that puppy Albright will ruin you, Tom! I doubt much whether the fool knows the exact meaning of experimental philosophy." I then ventured to assure him that my friend Mr Albright was a scientific man, and practised in medicine and surgery. He replied, sneeringly, "You assure me, do you? Why, I doubt much, sir, whether you are competent to judge, or to give an opinion on the subject." These uncourteous remarks quite nettled me; so, taking up my hat, I pertly told him, that as my friends thought I possessed talent, it behoved me to try whose judgment was most correct.

The worthy doctor looked at me with a countenance more in sorrow than in anger; and, pointing to the chair, bade me, in an authoritative manner, to be seated an order which I could not help obeying. After a short pause he said, "It is out of respect to your family, Mr Weathercock, that I am induced to point out to you the absurdity of your speculation. For, sir, I doubt much whether, in a country so commercial as England, where the people are devoted to the mere acquisition of wealth, and the fortunate winners so fond of show and dress, even if you had the greatest talent for philosophical teaching, you would get a class to pay more than current expenses. You would therefore be sure to get into debt, compromise your respectability, and lose all relish for more certain means of getting money to pay your way as an honest upright man. It is a mistaken notion, my good sir, to think all respectability is confined to professions; for in very few instances do we find that professional pursuits are so lucrative as trade. Yet some would rather starve to be gentlemen, even at the hazard of integrity and independence, than be guilty of exercising some mechanical or handicraft occupation. They would think it a compromise of their gentility to go behind a counter; and yet they must often pander to the whims of a rich shopkeeper, and either keep their opinions to themselves, or be literally all things to all men.' Therefore, Tom, if, in opposition to the experience of observing persons, you follow the whimsical fancies of your own morbid imagination, it needs not the gift of prophecy to foretell the consequences. You will fritter away the greater part of your life in catching at unsubstantial shadows; your latter days will be cheerless and miserable; and your bosom companions will be poverty and disappointment, as they generally are the associates of the visionary adventurer." I sat quite motionless during the delivery of this powerful lecture, and I felt that the doctor, like a divine oracle, had pronounced my certain doom, if I persisted in my original design. Yet I could not reply to him, for a sickly faintness came over me, cold drops of perspiration trickled down my aching forehead, and my whole body seemed enveloped in a chilly, deathlike dampness, as if life was oozing away. It was not till some minutes had elapsed that I felt myself able to rise and take my leave.

Subsequent deliberation convinced me that the opinion of Dr Doubtmuch was the most prudent; and I resolved to follow it, though still grieving over the downfall of my once brilliant hopes. I selected a particular line of business connected with medicine, and gave it my undivided attention for a series of years. Ere life had passed its prime, I possessed a competency, with which I retired, and devoted myself to those scientific pursuits, which, if pursued in poverty, would undoubtedly have ended in the loss of my independence. I allow myself to be occasionally tempted to give a few lectures, in amateur fashion, to the good folk of the little town near which I dwell, and generally secure a fair modicum of applause. When, after these exhibitions, I descend from the rostrum, my respectable neighbours, ladies as well as gentlemen, flock about me, shake hands, and assure me they have had a great deal of pleasure in listening to my excellent lecture, &c. I more than suspect that it is pleasanter to be a lecturer on experimental philosophy as a gentleman of independent means, than as a young fellow seeking to make his bread and establish himself in the world.

SMALL COUNTRY NEWSPAPERS.

SOME time ago we mentioned the appearance of several monthly sheets issuing from country towns in Scotland, containing local and general intelligence, along with advertisements, and some matter of miscellaneous interest. Not being newspapers in the proper sense of the term, they did not require to be stamped, and were published at the convenient price of one penny each. As they had a pretty extensive circulation in rural neighbourhoods, and in reality reached quarters where the ordinary products of the press never appear, it seemed to us that these monthly miscellanies were calculated to be of considerable service in the cause of popular instruction.

In consequence, it appears, of our recommendations on the subject, several monthly sheets were forthwith begun in England, and one in Ireland; and we now learn, with no small regret, that the latter has been extinguished by the interference of authorities connected with the Board of Stamps. This, we take leave to say, seems a most unwarrantable stretch of duty; and we feel the more entitled to call it so, when we learn that the Scotch and English monthly sheets have met with no molestation. Desirous only of promoting the dissemination of respectable literature, no matter in what form, we have looked into the act of parliament respecting newspapers, in order to see whether monthly sheets are liable to stamp-duty. The act, as is usual with such productions, is as unintelligible as it could well be made; still we pick out of it a tolerably definite assertion that papers containing news published at wider intervals than twenty-six days between consecutive numbers are not newspapers, and do not fall to be charged with duty. We, however, extract the entire passages from the act (6 and 7 William IV., cap. 76), defining newspapers and the rate of duty, so that each person may judge for himself :

newspaper shall be printed, one penny
"For every sheet or other piece of paper whereon any

And where such sheet or piece of paper shall contain on

one side thereof a superficies, exclusive of the margin of -the letterpress, exceeding one thousand five hundred and thirty inches, and not exceeding two thousand two hundred and ninety-five inches, the additional duty of one halfpenny. And where the same shall contain on one side thereof a superficies, exclusive of the margin of the letterpress, exceeding two thousand two hundred and ninety-five inches, the additional duty of one penny. Provided always, that any sheet or piece of paper containing on one side thereof a superficies, exclusive of the margin of the letterpress, not exceeding seven hundred and sixty-five inches, which shall be published with, and as a supplement to any newspaper chargeable with any of the duties aforesaid, shall be chargeable only with the duty of one halfpenny. And the following shall be deemed and taken to be newspapers chargeable with the said duties: viz.---. Any paper containing public news, intelligence, or occurrences, printed in any part of the United Kingdom, to be dispersed and made public.

Also any paper, printed in any part of the United Kingdom, weekly or oftener, or at intervals not exceeding twenty-six days, containing only or principally advertise

ments.

And also any paper containing any public news, intelligence, or occurrences, or any remarks or observations thereon, printed in any part of the United Kingdom for sale, and published periodically, or in parts or numbers, at intervals not exceeding twenty-six days between the publication of any two such papers, parts, or numbers, where any of the said papers, parts, or numbers respectively shall not exceed two sheets of the dimensions hereinafter specified (exclusive of any cover or blank leaf, or any other leaf upon which any advertisement or other notice shall be printed), or shall be published for sale for a less sum than sixpence, exclusive of the duty by this act imposed thereon: Provided always, that no quantity of paper less than a quantity equal to twentyone inches in length and seventeen inches in breadth, in whatever way or form the same may be made, or may be divided into leaves, or in whatever way the same may be printed, shall, with reference to any such paper, part, or number, as aforesaid, be deemed or taken to be a sheet of paper.

And provided also, that any of the several papers hereinbefore described shall be liable to the duties by this act imposed thereon, in whatever way or form the same may be printed, or folded, or divided into leaves, or stitched; and whether the same shall be folded, divided, or stitched, or not.

EXEMPTIONS.-Any paper called "Police Gazette, or Hue and Cry," published in Great Britain by authority of the Secretary of State, or in Ireland by the authority of the Lord-Lieutenant. Daily accounts or bills of goods imported and exported, or warrants or certificates for the delivery of goods; and the weekly bills of mortality; and also papers containing any lists of prices-current, or of the state of the markets, or any account of the arrival, sailing, or other circumstances relating to merchant ships or vessels, or any other matter wholly of a commercial nature: provided such bills, lists, or accounts do not contain any other matter than what hath been usually comprised therein."

It will be observed from these passages, that there is no definition whatever as to what is meant by news. This is a serious deficiency in the act. As the case is, nobody can tell when an event loses its news qualification and becomes a waif of history. Say, for example, it is an account of a voyage in a balloon. Does it continue to be news beyond a week, a fortnight, a month, or a year? It may be news to somebody, but not news to somebody else-not news in Britain, but news at the antipodes. An event dead and gone in London, and which any body may use up at pleasure, is only coming into life at Sydney. Query, then, is it news at Sydney? Common sense says, " Yes, as respects Sydney, but not as respects us." But the act of Parliament is silent on the point, and thus a door is opened to dispute. Again, the act does not tell us what class of events shall not be considered news. According to common usage, accounts of scientific and literary meetings are not considered news, but accounts of meetings for other purposes are so. Now, there is not the shadow of foundation in the act for this partiality. But it is needless to say more on the subject. The existing act of parliament respecting newspapers is a mass of confusion, which we should be glad to see altered, so as to prevent all collision between the administrators of the law and those who are engaged in the honourable calling of disseminating information through the medium of the press.

BURNING AS A PUNISHMENT. [From L'Audience, a French newspaper.] THERE is scarcely a nation of the earth which has not, at some period of its history, used fire as a punishment. With the ancient Egyptians, parricides were punished by being burnt alive upon faggots of the pinetree; and the Babylonians burnt their criminals in large fiery furnaces. The same kind of punishment prevailed among the Hebrews. With the Romans, also, criminals were burnt in a great many cases; and this species of execution was always carried into effect with great solemnity and much preparation. [In the middle ages], apostates from Christianity were likewise burnt; and heretics could be delivered to the flames by the bishop of the diocese alone, without the intervention of the synod. In the reign of Mary, a woman who was with child was burnt at Guernsey for being a heretic, and the moment the funeral pile was lighted, the fear and the pain together brought on premature labour. The spectators attempted to save the infant to which she gave birth; but the priests who were in attendance threw it

back into the flames, in order that the "little heretic" should perish with its mother! Of all the civilised countries, Spain is that in which this mode of punishment-known by the name of auto da fe—has been most frequently applied. The number of unhappy victims whose ashes have been scattered to the winds by the tribunal of the Inquisition in that country is almost incalculable. The savage tribes of America yield nothing in this respect to the "civilised" nations. When a prisoner is condemned to death, they drive a stake into the earth, and fasten the sufferer to it. They then sing the song of death around him; and the savages having seated themselves in a circle about the prisoner, a large fire is then lighted, at which they make hatchets and other instruments red hot, and apply them to different parts of his body; others come and hack his body with their knives, while some will actually cut a piece of his burnt flesh, and eat it before his face. Some of them have been known to fill the wounds in the bodies of the victims with gunpowder, and set fire to it. In short, each of the spectators will torment the sufferer according to his caprice, and his agonies will last for four or five hours, and have been known to continue for several days! In France this mode of punishment had continued to prevail from the earliest ages down to the year 1790; but it was in that period of barbarism and cruelty called "the middle ages" that this horrible punishment was most frequently applied. The legislators of that period were not content with avenging the laws and punishing moral outrages, but occupied their minds in extirpating heresy; and to that end burnt heretics by hundreds and Jews by thousands. This was the more horrible, as religion was only made the pretext. It was not for the sake of converting the Jews to Christianity that they burnt them, but for the base purpose of possessing their riches. The same motive may be traced in the punishment of the Templars; fifty-nine of whom were burnt alive in one day, near the Abbaye Saint-Antoine, Paris. Jacques de Molai, and Guy, son of Robert II., Dauphin of Auvergne, were also thrown alive into the flames on the 18th of March 1314, on the spot at present occupied by the equestrian statue of Henry IV. Two witnesses were brought forward to support the most ridiculous charges against them; but no one was imposed upon by the accusations. It was plainly enough seen that the only crime of the Templars was that of possessing great wealth. A greater number of persons were burnt during the fourteenth century than in any other period of our history, for heresies and sorcery. The parliament of Bordeaux, by its own authority, burnt more than six hundred in the space of one year. We may judge of the "crimes" for which they suffered by the case of Gilles Garnier, who was sentenced to be burnt by the parliament of Dôle, in 1374. It was charged against him that he had sold himself to the devil, who had changed him into a wolf, and that under this form he had devoured a number of little boys.

THE GLORY OF GOD IN CREATION. [T. MOORE.]

THOU art, O God, the life and light
Of all this wondrous world we see:
Its glow by day, its smile by night,

Are but reflections caught from thee!
Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are thine.
When day with farewell beam delays,
Among the opening clouds of even,
And we can almost think we gaze

Through golden vistas into heaven; Those hues that mark the sun's decline, So soft, so radiant, Lord, are thine. When night, with wings of stormy gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with a thousand dyes; That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine. When youthful spring around us breathes, Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh; And every flower the summer wreathes, Is born beneath that kindling eye; Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine.

SONG.

[A. PARK, Glasgow.]
HURRA for the Highlands! the stern Scottish Highlands!
The home of the clansman, the brave, and the free,
Where the clouds love to rest on the mountain's rough breast,
Ere they journey afar o'er the islandless sea.
'Tis there where the cataract sings to the breeze,
As it dashes in foam like a spirit of light;
And 'tis there the bold fisherman bounds o'er the seas,
In his fleet tiny bark through the perilous night.
Then hurra for the Highlands ! &c.

'Tis the land of deep shadow, of sunshine and shower,
Where the hurricane revels in madness on high;
For there it has might that can war with its power,
In the wild dizzy cliffs that are cleaving the sky.
Then hurra for the Highlands ! &c.

I have trod merry England, and dwelt on its charms;
I have wander'd through Erin, that gem of the sea;
But the Highlands alone the true Scottish heart warms;
Her heather is blooming, her eagles are free.

Then hurra for the Highlands! &c.

WANT OF LABOURERS IN NEW SOUTH WALES. IN a late number of the "Scotch Reformers' Gazette" (Glasgow newspaper) we find the following letter, addressed to the editor, written by one of the magistrates of New South Wales, who was, not long ago, it says, an estimable citizen of Glasgow, and on whose statements reliance may be placed :

"Sydney, August 1, 1841.

Sir, When your population at home appears to be suffering the greatest distress-when your industrious artisan and labourer, by the greatest exertions and economy, can scarcely keep want from their door-the ques

tion has often occurred to me, Then, why do they not come here? We require labour, urgently require it; for were a thousand immigrants to arrive here weekly, they would all be instantly engaged, so great is the demand. We cannot, in fact, procure a sufficiency of hands to carry on our operations, whether buildings, clearing ground, agriculture, or tending our flocks and herds. The cry, as you will see by the Sydney papers, from one end of the land to the other, is labour-give us labour. The goverument provides a passage, and the circumstance of your suffering population not being more anxious to embrace it than they are, appears to me almost a mystery. It can only arise from gross misconception, or want of information; for, as you will see by the statement which follows, the wages are most liberal, and a family, except in the case of children under twelve, instead of being a source of anxiety and expense, as at home, will here gain their own living, and lay the foundation of their future independence. While thus confidently assuring all who are willing to work that they cannot fail to obtain abundance both for themselves and families in this country, there are some things to which many have accustomed themselves before leaving their native country, which they need not look for, must not expect; for if they do, they will be disappointed. In general, immigrants will be placed in remote situations in the bush, where all old associations will be broken-where there is no alehouse to repair to-in which they must be all in all to themselves, and abandon old habits and old ideas, depending for their comfort and happiness on their own resources, not on external excitement.

With this precautionary statement, I will now proceed to lay before you the amount of wages received by labourers in my part of the country; and I may as well state, that they are somewhat lower than in some other districts. The food allowed to a free man weekly, is as follows:-Beef and mutton, 10 lbs.; wheat, 1 peck, or 12 lbs. flour; tea, 4 oz.; sugar, 2 to 3 lbs. ; tobacco, 4 oz. A dwelling is always provided by the master, and the hours of work, deducting one for breakfast and another for dinner, are from sunrise to sunset-being in summer from five to six, and in winter from seven to five o'clock. L.25 to L.30 a year.

A ploughman, A blacksmith,

A rough carpenter,

A shepherd,

A sawyer,

50 to

60

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The rations I have mentioned as being given, are in addition to these wages, and every encouragement is given to the servant to provide himself with a garden. He can there grow what he likes, but any luxuries he may require must be paid for. In the case of a man with a young helpless family, a larger ration of food would be allowed, and less wages; but the salaries are most liberal to the immigrant so situated; and the latter should remember, it is an evil which every day will make

less.

Let me earnestly, in conclusion, advise my countrymen coming here to avoid the society of government men.

In

a few short years this infamous class will effectually be put down, and the labour of the immigrant preferred; but as it is impossible in the present state of the colony either for master or servant altogether to avoid them, the newly arrived should be put on their guard. Their whole employment seems to be, to avoid work and to plan thefts; and they are so linked and faithful to each other in their villanies, that it would require the ingenuity of a Bow Street officer to unriddle them.-I am, sir, your obedient servant,

A MAGISTRATE OF THE TERRITORY."

THE RAILWAYS IN 1841. Having entered upon the new year, we have drawn up a few brief remarks upon the events of 1841, to which we beg to call attention. A co-operative system of forming new lines, by the combination of several companies, has been organised for the formation of the railway from Darlington to Newcastle. The question of low fares has made much progress. About 250 miles of railway have been opened. The number of companies paying dividends last year was 26, this year 38, increase 12. Number of companies the dividends of which have decreased, 1; increased, 13. Notwithstanding the greater length of opening, the vast extension of traffic, the greater number and proportion of dividends, such has been the state of the money market, that the shares, even of the best and most stable companies, taking the prices of the 18th of December in each year, have generally receded. The number of those which have increased in price has been 12; remained at the same price, 10; decreased, 28. The sacrifice in the value of railway shares stands thus:

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

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THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE. "WELL, that bates the pyeramids, Mister Colooney!" exclaimed Patrick Gallagher, turning the object of his examination this way and that in his hand; "resolve me this book, and Father M'Teigue may go to school to you!"

The reader must imagine two grotesque-looking fellows, on an unfrequented by-road in the west of Ireland, towards the fall of an autumn evening, busily engaged in scrutinising something they had just picked up. Mr Patrick Gallagher was one of about twenty partners who held a piece of land under one lease from the rich absentee Lord T, and endeavoured to wring his share of the rent out of the wet side of a hill, with the comfortable reflection, that if any whim should induce him to become rich, he was to be visited for his presumptuous prosperity with demands from his landlord for the full proportion due by the less thrifty and more Irish of his copartners. Thus he felt that he performed the whole law by having a sufficient number of dirty bank-notes in his pocket at certain seasons to give the agent one half year's rent of his share within the other, so as to leave something always due; and accordingly, without a farthing on the face of the earth, and liable any day of the year to have his cattle driven or his crops seized, he was considered a respectable tenant by his landlord, and an independent if not a wealthy man by the neighbourhood and also by himself. He was, however, a Connaught man; and those alone who have crossed the Shannon are aware of all that is implied in that term. He was fidgetty, resentful, and grandiloquent-on wires, on thorns, and on stilts, all at the same time. His appearance was characteristic. The eyes of an observer, beginning their survey from above, first lighted upon a piece of felt, of the shape of a thimble, with a bit of whip-cord tied round the middle of it, as if to prevent it going farther down on the wearer's head than the point of his nose. In this office, indeed, it was assisted by his ears, which rose gracefully outside the brim, where the ordinary hat itself is wont to curl. His face was sharp, meagre, and cunning, with a chasm below, armed so as to resemble Fingal's Cave, and beset on either side with an irregular thicket of wiry red hair. A blue coat, interspersed with a few brass buttons, and built without much attention to the usual orders of architecture, served to connect the attic storey of this human edifice with a pair of leather small-clothes, that contracted like a backgammon-box half way down each thigh, but spread roomy for the knee-joint to play, disdaining buckle, button, or strap, and flapping against the top of a blue worsted stocking. This specimen of Connemara manufacture, which was gartered just above the swell of the calf, was erased, as heralds would term it, below, leaving the primitive leg again to "crop out" to the surface, till it once more dipped into the unfathomable brogue. Imagine a creature thus clad, with flat back and shoulders, knees bent and knotted, and heels extending back like a reserve of foot, ready to be put forwards when the other end was worn out-carrying a stick with the smaller end, polished with the "frequent palm," in his horny fist-and you have some faint idea of Pat Gallagher.

Mr Colooney was of a higher stamp. The first glance showed that his hat was or had been white, notwithstanding the discoloration of the weather side of it. The collar of a long trailing frock-coat was of velvet, of a time-worn green, as if it had begun to vegetate. His features were thick and stolid, his beard black. He had not only buttons at his knees, but long tape strings, tightening his hose over a burst

SATURDAY, MARCH 5, 1842.

ing calf. He was of somewhat shorter stature than
his companion, it is true; but what he wanted in
height was more than made up in the dignity of his
bearing, the manner in which his elbows were thrown
back, and the determined rigidity of his knee-joint,
which formed the key-stone of a backward arch at
every step. Mr Colooney was no less a personage
than the village schoolmaster.

"Well, by dad, Mister Colooney, but this bit of a
shtoane's mighty like a book-the Lord save us !"
And like a book the thing certainly was that he had
that instant picked up in the middle of the road, for
it had a back with four projecting ribs marked across
it, some show of tooling, as it is called, flat sides, and
the place where leaves generally appear in books sunk
the usual distance between the covers. Stone it cer-
tainly was, and polished stone, too-a very pretty bit
of marble, with some "organic remains" visible at
each side of it. In short, it was a very stony-looking
book, and a very bookish-looking stone.

PRICE 14d.

flood, with hammers in their hands, just like the gintlemen that was up the mountain the other day with the tin case, sarchin' over and under, and up and down, for the filloshofer's stone?"

"An' what was it to do for them if they found it ?" asked Pat, his face writhing with curiosity.

"Oh, by dad, every thing. It 'id make them young (Pat twitched up the right leg with a half audible whoop), and comely (Pat leered modestly), and wise (Pat strove to render his face intellectual), and rich"

"Och, by japers," cried Pat, "that's the shtoane for me! Rich! was it rich you said?"-here he executed a screech, such as Power alone could imitate, evidently showing that he considered all other qualities merged in this great one. "But mind," says he, laying his finger on his nose-" remimber, Mr Colooney, it was me that picked it up." So saying, he offered to relieve the pedagogue of his burden.

"Oh no, paudheen!" said the other, smiling, but holding the precious relic tight. "So you want to make out that it's you found out the saycret, do you? Didn't I resolve you the maning of it all? Didn't I hit on the grand ar-cane'um, as I was like to do, being the one that puts the larnint into your four brats, if they'd resave it; and bad luck to them, the spalpeens, it's the hardest-earned sack of cups, the taching of them four, ever I ate."

"But where's the use of a book that wont open?" continued Pat, musingly, as he attempted to force asunder the covers. "Shure, there's only one book that's any good, and it shut; and Father M'Teigue can open that same, an' sorra a more strinth in his bit iv an arm nor would rise a tum'ler to his mouth; but, by dad, this would defate him, or Father M'Hale himself, and small blame to them, when there's no inside to it at all at all!" "You may go back to your boys, Misther Colooney," "Whisht, Pat," said Mr Colooney, with a sagacious says Pat, "and hit upon what you plaise; but if you wink, "how do you know that?" were the Kildare Sthreet man himself, you wouldn't make them pick up as much knowledge in a day as I did just now;" and he winked, by way of giving sauce to his joke.

"Arra, sir, who'd open a pair of flent covers?-ye might as lieve go look for writin' betune Thady M'Gusty's millstones. It's a shtoane book, and you can't resolve me it, with all your guagin', and surveyin', and alphabets! Well, what'll the poor childher do, I wondher, that's set at letthers as long as my shtick, when the masther can't read a book no bigger than the palm of my hand? Set Pat at it himself, an' he'll make somethin' of it, I'll go bail." With this, Pat sought to recover the mysterious stone, which Mr Colooney had taken from his hand in the course of the conversation.

But the man of the ferule was not inclined to part with it. He turned it on this side and on that, and from one hand to the other, and racked his brains for some solution of the riddle.

"It's a lump of a stone, that's sartain," he muttered, musingly, "and, by the same token, mighty like what's in Father M'Teigue's chimley-piece, with the little egg-shells and saws and rulers broke out on it like the small-pox. So a stone you are, says I, if St Patrick himself pithrified you. But then, again, you're a book, or I never seen the inside of a school-room. The bigness to a T of my own Univarsal,' and the place at the back where the name ought to be, and was wanst, maybe. It's a book, and it's a stone. Well, that's beyant me. Maybe the larned men in the ould ancient time 'id be spellin' out of stone books, afore readin' and printin' was found out the ould filloshofers. By the blessed Vargint, I have it, Pat!" shouted Colooney at last, flourishing his arm round his head.

"Well, Pat, there's somethin' due to you for finding what you couldn't miss ; and so, Pat, I'll toss you for the stone. Will that do, Pat?"

"Oh, be aisy, Misther Colooney, if you plaise; there's two sides to a halfpenny. What sarvice 'id a small lump of a flent do to the likes of you? No-see here, now. If I make my forthin' out of the shtoane, d'ye mind, you'll be the betther by another sack of cups next Candlemas, and not a word about the keg of potteen undher the school-room flure. Is that a bargain? Wet your fist, my honey, and done!' says I. Give us the shtoane."

All was arranged. Pat went home with the "treasure-trove" in the crown of his hat, or rather on the top of his head, for crown his caubeen had none. Not a word could he say to his astonished wife and hungry brood, but "Wait, wait, darlints-you forthin's made. I'll set my li'l' houldin', and rise a male-shop in Ballymakeskin." But he kept the stone out of sight, as he had not quite made up his mind as to how he would proceed so as to realise his wealth in the shortest possible time. He thought the best thing to do at first would be to sleep on it. He had often dreamt of bags of shillings under a wall, and nearly undermined his hovel with digging for them; but "Bad luck to them," he used to say, "I never hit upon the right spot yit." Still it was in his dream he expected the stone to discover to him all its virtues ; and he had no doubt but that the way it would do so would be by telling him the right side of the wall to dig for the bag. "My fortune's made, Pat!-I'm the boy, afther When night came on, he placed the piece of marble all!" and the pedagogue performed a pirouette, finish- immediately under his right ear, and anxiously did ing with a sprawling gambol high in air. "The fillo- he wait for the necessary preliminary to his dream to shofer's stone, Pat!-the filloshofer's stone! Eh, Pat, come; but whether it was the cold of the application isn't that it?" and he fetched another gambol. to his face, or that a man seldom goes to sleep when "The fill-fill-the fill of a what?" demanded the he " pays attintion to it," I do not know, but so it hapanxious Pat.

Pat jumped round, and opened his mouth.

"The filloshofer's stone, you fool! Usen't all the world to be going about in the ould times after the

pened that morning found Mr Patrick Gallagher still awake, and, moreover, groaning and moaning most piteously with toothache, and pain in his right jaw.

The next day the half acre was left to plough itself if it chose, and the little mountain nags evinced much satisfaction that their shoulders were not made acquainted with the wisp of straw that generally served to attach them to the plough. Pat would answer no questions, but was observed to go up the side of the hill with Mr Colooney, whose school was over unusually early that day. At this the red-headed rabble which burst from his door displayed tokens of delight as clearly as the nags, and much more audibly. That night Pat repeated the experiment, with this difference, however, that, having been made disagreeably acquainted with the properties of a stone poultice, he put some of the bedclothes (that is, a wisp of straw) between him and the making of his fortune.

Patrick Gallagher slept. As soon as he awoke, he shook himself, turned about his head, thrust his eye into the floor, screwed his forehead into a most sagacious disposition of wrinkles, and began to think.

"What did I dhrame of?" Thinking with Pat was a serious job. "What the dickens did I dhrame of?" he repeated, putting his hand mechanically to feel whether the book was "to the fore." "There you are, sure enough," said he, as he turned it in his hand; "but by this and that you might have made me remimber what it was you tould me while you were about it, or what good's in your saycret at all at all." But it wouldn't do. The knowledge which had been afforded him in his sleep (for that it had he did not think of doubting for a moment) had disappeared like the stars with the light of the day, and Mr Gallagher was still as ill able to meet his landlord on the approaching gale-day as ever, nay, less so by the amount of what a fine day's farm work was worth at that season of the year.

For three days and three nights did this go on, and Gallagher was still completely swallowed up in his speculations. Towards the evening of the third day, he smote the leather which clothed his thigh. To explain this action, as fraught with meaning as the nod of the sapient Lord Treasurer, we will transport our readers a week forward in the history of Mr Patrick Gallagher, and beg of them to post themselves at the side of the door of his cabin about two o'clock in the day-that is, if they can find room, for they will meet a "mortial recoorse" of people flocking from all parts of the "mountain," far and near, and converging to the entrance of the aforesaid cabin. Do the magnates who may con these pages in the drawing-rooms of the metropolis know the full import of the term "cabin," as it is used to designate a human habitation in the west of Ireland? | If it were only to do our duty towards our neighbour, we must endeavour to explain. As a certain tourist, in writing home a description of Alpine scenery, commenced by assuring his correspondent that a glacier was not a fellow in a paper cap, with a square of glass under his arm, and a bit of putty stuck in his fist-so we must begin by making our readers aware that they will not understand our "cabin" by a reference to a picture by Morland, or a description by Leigh Richmond.

A Connemara cabin is a sort of excrescence of mud, raised like a bubble out of a tenant's "houlding," and topped with a layer of straw, spread irregularly on a few rude rafters, over which some huge flat stones are laid, to prevent the whole concern from flying off into the Atlantic the next equinox. This "mud edifice" is surrounded by a floating mass of putridity, consisting of whatever may be gathered or suffered to accumulate, to be spread over and fertilise the land at the proper season, and of which the least offensive materials are decayed straw and stagnant water. This moat environs the house on all sides, except where one narrow, broken, and half-submerged causeway conducts to the aperture through which an entrance may be effected. With considerable stooping this may be done; and then, if the fire happens to be low, you may have a sufficiently clear atmosphere to look about you. You perceive that the domicile is divided into two compartments, the fire being in that which you first enter, screened from the door by a great mud buttress. There may be some borings here and there in the walls, like so many feeble efforts of the inmates to scratch out for light; but the greatest quantity of that commodity is admitted by the hole in the roof, in return for the smoke it lets out. A few three-legged stools, a D-shaped griddle, a table like a choppingblock, and some musty straw in the corner of the inner apartment, are nearly all the necessaries. A piece of broken mirror, looking as if it had been worn into

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holes with having been so long looked at, a dresser of crockery, apparently the relics of an earthquake, an odd flitch blackening in the chimney, and a coloured print of some anonymous saint, skewered into the mud wall, constitute the refinements of the establishment. For inhabitants, these consist of the father and mother, and their innumerable offspring, which seem to descend by insensible grades into the pig, curdog, and chickens, with which they habitually consort-so that it is difficult to say where humanity ends, and pig begins; while an old crone for ever cowers in the chimney, by the few sods of lighted turf, like the genius of poverty incubating over her heterogeneous brood.

Now, readers all, gentle and simple, that we have introduced you to an Irish "cabin," you will perceive that when we placed you at the side of Pat Gallagher's door, we allotted you a more disagreeable position than you were aware of.

On the day in question, as hath been already related, this door was beset with people of all ages, sizes, and sexes, who seemed determined to take the castle by storm, so eagerly did they press towards its gate; but here they met with an obstacle in the shape of the commander of the garrison, our hero himself, who stood in the door-way with the alpeen already described in his fist, and opposed without scruple knocking-down arguments to their farther advance. No one was to enter-no, not the priest of the parish, Father M'Teigue himself, without "paying his footing." A penny a-piece for a sight of the rale filloshofer's stone, the book that dropped out of the skies one day that the blessed St Patrick was reading it, and let it fall out of his hand; " and sorry he was," said Pat, in his notice to the neighbourhood, "that he couldn't demane himself to come down and pick it up; but since he daren't do that, shure he pointed to it with his crook and I passin' by, and Pat,' says he, it ll be the makin' of you ; but, mind you, don't let it out of your hands, but bring it up safe to me when you're comin' yourself, you know; and if it isn't this way you'll be comin', jist hand it over to Misther Colooney there beyant at the school-house forenenst you, and he'll take charge of it;' and with that the blessed Saint took off his specs, and Good mornin' to you, Pat,' says he, quite genteel, and up into the skies with him again, to the tune of Patrick's day in the mornin'." All this spread like wildfire, of course, and not on Tribute-Sunday were pence in greater requisition than on that day of wonder and excitement.

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“Now,” said Mr Gallagher, apostrophising himself as he took his post at the door-" now, Pat dear, show yourself a man. There's young Hoolaghan and Larry O'Dowd 'ill be for breakin' in past me for nothin', I'll be bail. But sorra one of them 'ill do it without the prent of this bit of a shtick on their shkulls first. This is the way I'm to make the forthin', that's plain; and by the help of the blessed Vargint, I'll not be chated out of a pinny of it. Dhrame indeed! I hot upon it broad awake;" and again he smote his thigh. By two o'clock the concourse was great, and Pat had some difficulty in regulating the admissions. Oh, Misther Reilly, an' is that you all the way from Curnavooleen? The sight of ye's good for sore eyes —walk in, an' welcome-och, not at all; do ye think I'd be afther chargin' the likes of you, that I'm proud to see at all times, let alone this present? Keep your coppers towards drinking my health-only, plaise God, I'll be thratin' you myself, when the forthin's made. Blur an' owns, Phelim, but you're the welcome boy! I was thinkin' you had another month in Monaghan yet. You jist got out in time for a sight of the shtoane. Are you goin' to make all right wid poor Molly ?" "Och, that's all over," answered Phelim, "and Molly's as honest a woman as any in Connaught." "In with you for nothin', my darlint!" exclaimed Pat, in a transport of moral enthusiasm-" in with you, and Oh, by japers, but here's Larry O'Dowd sure enough. Well, Larry" (he said this in an altered tone), "I'm proud to see you." At the same time he placed himself in the middle of the door-way, and grasped his bit of oak by the middle, prepared to guard to the uttermost the approach to the shrine of wonder.

Larry lounged slowly up, with his hands in his breeches pockets, turning his head here and there, with a look between cunning and nonchalance. As the loiterers who had no pence expected a row, and hoped to take some advantage of the confusion, the causeway was left clear for the belligerent power to advance. He did so and held out his hand.

"Pat, my honey," said he, "give us thee fist-there' your ha'pence, an' I'd give a naggin into the bargain to get a sight o' the blessed Sia Fail that I'm tould you've got back from St Pether."

Gallagher burst into a hideous yell, which in the polite world would have been termed melting into tears. "I wronged you!" he sobbed-"I wronged you! But, by my sowl, no man shall say that Pat Gallagher was bate at that game. In with you, Larry, and mille failte; and for the matter of your pinny, there's small Terry with the shkull-cap 'll be blessin' you for ever for the half of it. Terry, you blackguard, what's keepin' you?" and he bestowed a hortatory box on the bandaged ears of the urchin.

Hereupon Terry's face silently writhed out of every resemblance to humanity, becoming gradually black through every shade of red and purple, till at last, after a lapse of time sufficient to have suffocated a diver, a roar burst forth, which was only moderated by being too vast for the dimensions of the imp's throat.

"Here, my jewel," said Larry, apparently melted by this affecting demonstration, "away with you to your mother, and tell her who was helpin' you."

more.

The urchin, as soon as he felt the money in his hand, and without ever looking up, at once trotted off barefoot over the stones with a light step, but maintaining at its height the stentorian roar which had helped him to this bit of good fortune, as if afraid that any intermission might deprive him of it again. Larry entered the hut, and Pat once more resumed his position. Three or four friends dropped up, and he showed the same magnanimous scorn of gain which had influenced him in the cases we have selected for special mention; a bright eye or a tight ankle his gallantry forbade to pay toll, and the consequence was that his house was filled considerably before his pockets. Now, however, the crowd outside began to thicken, and to become urgent. Persons, known to have no pence, affected to be pushed from behind by those who said they had, the tightness with which the "admitted few" were while the hubbub from within sufficiently evidenced packed, and the difficulty those nearest the door had of gaining a sight of the wonderful object of attraction. Pat was now forced to exert himself. The shillala was brandished in a menacing manner, and, after two or three "demonstrations," finally brought to bear with effect. Whop went the tough oak on many a tougher head, Pat exclaiming all the time, that he was determined not to let in more than "the full of the house" for any man. While he was thus engaged, however, a sudden rush and shout from within turned his attention the other way. So while some boy is busy cramming greasy tarts, a gripe from the visceral regions recalls his senses from the uneaten portion outside his mouth to the eaten and halfdigested load within. He pauses-and turns the eyes of his soul back upon himself. But Mr Gallagher did the door into the presence of the precious stone; and He quitted his post at once, and plunged from here our illustration deserts us, seeing it would be next to impossible for the self-indulgent school-boy to jump down his own throat to discover what the greasy tarts O'Dowd-to his shame be it spoken-no sooner had were about. It was manifest in a moment. Larry squeezed within arm's length of the relic, than he snatched at it, unmasked a battery in the shape of a short thick stick he had concealed about him, in a twinkling knocked down two women and a man who which he expected to have "bolted" in a sense diffewere next to him, and had nearly reached the door, rent from the usual one, when he was confronted by the might of Patrick Gallagher himself, the hero of our tale. As may be imagined, they did not begin, like Glaucus and Diomed, to recite their pedigrees, lay sprawling and bleeding on the ground, until the but at once set about their principal business. Larry stone was wrenched out of his grasp; but no sooner was he relieved of this burden than he started up on his feet, and ran straight out of the house and assembled crowd shouting after him as if he had been across the hill, as fast as his legs could carry him, the a hare, and Pat bellowing above them all-" My blessin' on you, Larry O'Dowd !-when'll you be back? Come here, man, till you see the inside of it." tinued "I hope he hasn't taken the vartue out of the Then, turning to the grinning bystanders, he conshtoane, for he wanted it badly. By japers, if it's back he'll be comin', I'm thinkin' he'll shtay about as long as a drop uv water on a hot smoothin'-iron." He then returned into the house, barred the door, and told the good woman to produce the keg of poteen; "for,” said he, "shoutin' and door-keepin's dhry work." Out came the secret store, accordingly; the earthquaken ware was set upon the table, and soon the huzzaing and laughter betokened to those without that the illicit spirit was getting as little law now as at its making.

At length a tap was heard at the door. In towns footman's from a dun's. Pat's heart smote him, for we know a postman's knock from an attorney's, a there was something peculiar in the tap; it was a

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