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To return to John Pounds :-He established his nephew comfortably in the world, out of his slender means, and went on adding to his school until it became famous. Many a poor child did he rescue from vice, and educate into usefulness. He watched with anxious interest the progress of his pupils in life, and helped them when he could. Many useful and industrious citizens, who otherwise might have been outcasts and beggars, does England owe to this humble man. He was a parent to the destitute; he was the father who bound them to society. His labours at his stool earned him bread enough for his wants; but his labours on the minds and hearts of his little pupils-that was the great work of his life, the value of which can scarcely be over-estimated.

Besides "book learning," and industrial habits, John Pounds taught his poor little children humanity, and implanted in them a love of natural objects. He was fond of all kinds of birds and domestic animals, singing-birds, jays, parrots, cats, and guinea-pigs; and he might sometimes be seen at work in the midst of his pupils, with a canary perched on one shoulder and a cat on the other. His was a happy family on a large scale, and to him might not inappropriately be applied the beautiful lines of Coleridge

"He prayeth well, who loveth well
All things, both great and small;
He prayeth best, who loveth best
Both man, and bird, and beast;
For the dear God, who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."

It may be imagined what sorrow of young hearts, what weeping and shedding of tears, there was at the death of this truly good man, on New Year's Day, 1839, at the age of seventy-two. England had lost one of its best and most useful citizens; but as for them, they had lost a father, friend, and play-fellow, all in one.

"Were we," says Mr. Guthrie, in his Second Plea for Ragged Schools, "to make a pilgrimage anywhere, as soon as to the lowly heath where the martyr reposes, we would direct our pilgrim steps to the busy streets of Portsmouth, and, turning aside from the proud array of England's floating bulwarks, we would seek out the humble shop where John Pounds achieved his works of mercy, and earned an imperishable fame. There is no poetry in his name, and none in his profession; but there was more than poetry-the highest, noblest piety-in his life. Every day within his shop he might be seen cobbling shoes, and surrounded by some score or two of | ragged urchins, whom he was converting into useful members of the State. Honour to the memory of the patriot cobbler, beneath whose leathern apron there beat the kindest heart-there glowed a bosom fired with the noblest ambition, and who, without fee from scholar, or reward from man, while he toiled for his hard-earned bread with the sweat of his brow, educated not fewer than five hundred outcasts before they laid him in the lowly grave! Honour, we say again, to the memory of this illustrious patriot! Nor is there in all the world any sight we would have travelled so far or so soon to see, as that self-same man, when he followed some ragged boy along the quays of Portsmouth, keeping his kind keen eye upon him, and tempting the young savage to his school with the bribe of a smoking potato. Princes and peers, judges and divines, might have stood uncovered in his presence, and now marble monuments might be removed from the venerable walls of Westminsterpoets, warriors, and statesmen, might give place to make room for him."

Another founder of ragged schools, who lived before John Pounds, and in another country-of whom, perhaps, John Pounds never heard-was the benevolent Pestalozzi. He began his labours towards the close of last century, devoting his whole time and means to the instruction and elevation of the poor. The idea which took possession of his mind, and strongly influenced his

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conduct throughout life, was that of the brotherhood of man; and that the great obstacle to the elevation of the poor was their ignorance. He therefore sought to elevate their independence by increasing their knowledge; and by placing them on a level, as regarded their intelligence, with the more affluent classes, he thus looked to education as the best means of realizing the great Christian maxim of human brotherhood. Assisted by his devoted wife, he invited poor, and even beggar-children, to his home, for the purposes of instruction. His efforts were treated by his neighbours, and by the world, as utterly absurd, and even insane. Yet he persevered, through misfortune, loss of means, ridicule, and opposition of all kinds. In the midst of the turmoils of revolution and war, this true hero held to his purpose, and went on educating. He was in advance of his age, and the world was yet to come up with him, and acknowledge the wisdom and benevolence of his plans. The local Government of the Canton of Unterwalden at length recognised his efforts, and placed him at the head of a school at Stantz. Here he laboured with immense success, almost compelling the pupils to love and admire him, so devoted was he to their happiness and their interests. No materials could have been less favourable than those committed to his care-children whose minds had been corrupted by the habits of begging and stealing, to which the miserable necessities of the times had driven them. But how could children, no matter how vitiated by habit, resist such methods as those which Pestalozzi employed?

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'My first task," says he, "was to gain the confidence of my pupils, and to attach them to me; this main point once attained, all the rest appeared to me easy. The deserted state in which I found myself, all painful as it was, and the absolute want of assistance, were precisely what contributed the most to the success of my enterprise. Cut off from the rest of mankind, I turned all my cares and all my affections to the children; to me they were indebted for all the relief they received. I partook alike of their pains and their pleasures; I was everywhere with them when they were well, and when they were sick, I was constantly at their bedside. We had the same nourishment. and I slept in the midst of them; and from my bed either prayed with them, or taught them something."

Extraordinary success attended the labours of Pestalozzi at Stantz; but these were rudely interrupted by the troubles of the times, and he then removed to Burgdorf, in the Canton of Berne, where he founded another school, which was equally successful with the former. But this too was broken up by the revolutions of the period; and still persevering, he founded again a poor-school in the country, some five miles from Berne, where he was joined by Fellenberg, and again he succeeded in attracting around him large numbers of pupils, and bringing them to an extraordinary pitch of improvement. Shortly after, he removed to a place called the Castle of Yverdon, where he founded an academy for the education of all classes. His plans by this time attracted great notice from the leading minds of all countries; numerous schools were founded throughout Germany and England on his plan; and the leading features of his system are now adopted in all the best schools in this and other countries.

Such were the first founders of Ragged Schoolsamong the most valuable and beneficent institutions of modern times. To found a Ragged School is a greater work than to found a College; for the rich are never without the means of an adequate education: but the poor,-how are they to be educated, unless by some such instrumentality as that above described? and, without education, what can the poor ever continue, but miserable and degraded? To properly and efficiently educate the poor such is the greatest problem for the solution of our age; and to accomplish this work, to some extent, is the glorious mission of the Teacher in Ragged Schools.

HUMAN HOPES.

ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL.

Ir was a sweet, calm evening-so calm that the experienced imagined that this very calmness might but be the precursor of one of those terrible storms which not unfrequently visit our Western Islands.

Under the shade of the piazza lounged a West India merchant, and by his side was seated his young English wife. She had been kindly and tenderly nurtured, the idol of fond parents, the darling of doting brothers and sisters; yet all these, her home, her relatives, her country she had left, to join him to whom she had been long attached, and who was now to her a most affectionate husband.

Near them was playing a sweet child of some four summers, attended by an ayah, who ever and anon, as the child wearied of its play, or complained of the heat and fatigue which its amusement produced, would take it upon her lap, and sing to it one of those wild, foolish songs, which have of late become so popular in our own dear England.

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Henry, my love, do not again urge it," said the young wife; "I could not leave you and our child." "The nurse and dear little Emmeline shall accompany you."

"And you?" she inquired.

"I will remain here until the autumn, and then join you; by that time, if my sugar plantations be as productive as I expect them to be, I shall then have realized the modest independence, which was the sole motive of my coming personally to take possession of the acres left I will then sell them, convert all my me by my uncle. possessions into money, and then, dearest ! a life of quiet happiness, with dear friends at home."

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Oh, how much I long for it," said his wife. "The air here is stifling, and I feel myself daily more unlike the healthy, robust girl you once knew me.'

"And it is this debility, this evident delicacy of constitution, that makes me so strongly urge your return to Captain Stratford will sail in a fortEurope at once. night, and assures me he will take every care for your comfort."

"I do not doubt it, my dear Henry; but still I cannot What matters the leave you. Oh, come with me now. few more riches you are staying to glean? Are we not all the world to each other?"

"True, most true, dearest; but yet we must not be For Emmeline is at unmindful of our children, Mary. present our only care; but had your health been capable of nursing our boy, he might now have been with us. Do not, oh! do not let this dreadful climate cost us another life."

"I will go to Barbadoes; you know the change has been of benefit to me before; I will stay there for my approaching confinement; you can then visit me; but I cannot, indeed I cannot cross the wide waste of waters' alone." And she threw herself upon his shoulder and wept bitterly.

"Mary, God is everywhere;' on the waters-in the deep. He will be with you, and your husband's prayers shall beg of him to regard you with his especial blessing. Come, cheer up, sweet wife, and though the trial is most severe to both of us, resolve to bear your part, for the sake of the child that is to be given to us."

"I will try, dear Henry, I will try; I am sadly wilful and ungrateful; but you have quite spoiled me."

"And I may tell captain Stratford that you will go with him. You, the nurse and child."

"And leave you quite alone! No, no, Henry; the purse and child shall remain here until you can bring them to England."

"This must not be, Mary, they must accompany you. My engagements here will be very numerous; I shall

have long distances to travel, and had rather they did not
remain. In four months I shall join you."

"Four months! Ah! Henry, will they not appear
years to both of us?"

A sharp wind came rushing through the opened windows, raising the soft curls from Mary's cheek, and hoisting them into all sorts of fantastic shapes. The nurse caught the child up in her arms, and hurried into the house. Henry placed his arms around his wife, and led her into an inner apartment. It was a fearful storm; Mary one of those dreadful tornadoes which leave "nought unscathed," tearing up huge trees, and twisting them like straws, bringing devastation wherever it came. more than a week, and at the end of that time she was was very ill that night; she did not leave her bed for more reconciled to her husband's plan for her return to England. The eve of the dreaded day came, on which Captain Stratford was to sail. He thought it advisable that she should be on board that night. Poor Mary was carried there insensible, and, when her reason returned, she found the vessel in motion.

Sad was poor Henry's heart! Wife, child, all gone! He watched the vessel until his eyes became so dim from tears, that all around him was clothed in a deep mist, and then he turned away towards that home which, until now, had been blest with a wife's fond smile and glad welcome, no matter how short his absence How great was the contrast from it might have been. now! There was her small table, at which she would sit employed in some feminine occupation, while he Here stood a vase of sweet would beguile the hours by reading to her, from some of their favourite authors. A toy of his child's again flowers-they had been gathered and arranged by her awoke his sorrow, and he threw himself on a couch, fingers-almost her last act. while the heavings of his chest betrayed the conflict within.

Many weeks have passed. Mary Vincent has once more been clasped to the affectionate bosom of her mother, and is again one of their happy family group. Her little Emmeline is already a great pet with grandcat, which has until lately had undisturbed possession of papa, and takes all sorts of liberties with the huge grey a comfortable corner of the hearth, and who now regards with some suspicion, and not too large a share of goodhumour, the new intruder, who so frequently occupies the seat on her master's lap, which was wont to be peculiarly her own property.

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Time passed on, and Mrs. Vincent was rapidly recovering strength; as she gazed on her infant, she would clasp him to her bosom and say, "Could thy father but see thee, my boy, how he would rejoice that he prevailed on thy mother to come to England." "I am glad to Henry had written once to his wife. 'that at present our affairs are most tell you," he said, promising, and I hope so to arrange matters as to be able in about six weeks to dispose of my goods to advantage. Already the son of a neighbour is in treaty for the plantations; when they are sold, little else remains to be done, may hope very shortly again to embrace my treaIn the mean time I commit them to the care of and sures. Him who neither slumbereth nor sleepeth."" He went on further to say, that his friend Captain Stratford would be returning with a cargo about the time he thought he should be ready to sail, and that he should, most probably, come home in his vessel.

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On the birth of his son the happy intelligence had been immediately dispatched to him, as it was hoped he would receive it before he left Jamaica.

Time, with his wings of strength and fleetness passed on, as time will pass, whether conducting the maiden to her bridal, or the old man to his grave, and the arrival of Captain Stratford's vessel was daily looked for. Poor Mary scarcely took her necessary walks, lest Henry should arrive

in her absence; she feared to sleep, lest he should come and not find her watching; she dressed her children with scrupulous care, and smoothed her daughter's bright locks, that they might look their best when first their father's eye rested upon them. Poor Mary! my heart bleeds for thee, thy fond visions of joy must vanish! the cup which is half tasted must be set down, never to gladden thy lips again! henceforth thy children must be all in all to thee; bring them up as he would have taught them, instil into their minds those holy principles and calm desires, which in after life will be a mine of wealth, instruct them in those things which "perish not in the using," and "thou shalt have thy reward."

It was a bright morning in spring when Captain Stratford slowly traced his way to the residence of Mary's parents. His air was dejected, and his whole manner evinced grief and unhappiness.

His errand was sad, most sad,-and it is a trying task to bring misery and desolation, where you hoped to be the cause of increased happiness. Poor Henry Vincent's arrangements had all been completed to his satisfaction, and it was within three days of his setting sail for England, when the yellow fever broke out in the district where he resided, and he was one of its first victims; the rapid fatality of this disease is well known, and Captain Stratford had only time to receive the last faint words of the dying man, who, not without a struggle commended his wife and children to the care of Him who has promised to regard the widow and the orphan with His especial favour, and to see him calmly resign his soul to "Him who gave it."

We will not attempt a description of poor Mary's grief, those only who have suffered a similar bereavement can

realize it.

Time has in some degree sobered her affliction, and when she watches her two sweet children in their gambols, she cannot but feel grateful that they have been preserved to her, though while looking upon them she will turn away her head for a moment, a tear will intrude itself, and she will sigh and say, ALAS, FOR HUMAN HOPES.

sition and Government inaction exist as they do, is the adult and growing section of our manufacturing population to be educated?" And this interest is the more important, when we recollect that a large city, like Norwich, already possesses a similar institution, lately organized, yet already with a student list of between two and three thousand.

The People's College at Sheffield was originally instituted by the Rev. R. S. Bayley, in 1842, for the purpose of providing an education for the young men and women of the middle and working classes, superior to that which is ordinarily called education by a large section of the community. The power to wield a pen, to read, or cast a sum, were justly considered by Mr. Bayley, the instru ments towards the acquirement of knowledge, and not knowledge itself; and he was convinced that the young men and apprentices of Sheffield might, by a judicious use of their time, before and after the ordinary hours of labour, advance their mental culture far beyond the limits thought requisite for those who earn their daily bread by manual labour. Proceeding on this idea, the institution and detail of the College were carried onward by him with unexampled zeal through a space of six years, till September, 1848, when he removed to London. Though this loss of the founder and zealous patron looked inauspicious for the future existence of the institution, particularly as at this time the number of its students was small, a committee was chosen, principally from the monitors, who had worked under, and been trained, as it were, by Mr. Bayley; and to this, more than to other circumstances, is to be ascribed the present efficiency and growth of the institution. There is, however, another, and an important element of success in the fact, that the committee is formed of young men who are as much convinced of the worth of popular education as they are enthusiastic in their desire to promote it.

As all such institutions should be, the People's College is self-supporting, mainly through the fees of students, and the gratuitous services of the monitors and lecturers, the former being sixpence paid weekly, and a quarterage of one shilling, making in the whole the yearly sum of £1 10s. from each student.

At the time this working committee took the affairs of the institution in their hands, it was in an entire state of need, both of books, furniture, and money; whilst, at the period of our visit, 200 had been received in students' fees, through the course only of eleven montas,

THE HEART THAT LOVES US STILL. The ivy round the leafless oak, when winter storms assail, As closely twines, as tightly clings, as in the summer gale; So, when the ruthless winds of fate come freezing with their chill, and deducting the expenses of rent, coals, gas, cleaning, We find the same devotion in "The heart that loves us still."

False friends fall off in poverty-their friendships, once so warm,
Fade like the shining summer flower before the winter storm,
But, 'mid the dim and gloomy scene, fair Hope and Truth instil-
Sweet echoes softly breathing from "The heart that loves us still."
Thus, like a spirit by our side, it lights the darkest hour,
And lulls the troubled soul to rest with gertle seraph power;
'Tis meet its changeless faith be sung in many a deathless trill-
When woman in our sorrow brings "The heart that loves us still."
ROBERT FISHER.

THE PEOPLE'S COLLEGE, SHEFFIELD. OUR visit to Sheffield, in the early part of last September, was one so productive of valuable information of several kinds, as to need, perhaps, in giving preference to the subject of its People's College, the apology of the interest and value of the question of popular education, above all others. But much that we have yet to say, of a purely social, or artistic character in reference to design, is comparatively local in its interest, to the practical solution of an important question afforded by the conduct and increasing prosperity of this parent institution of Sheffield, viz."Through what means, whilst sectarian o po

&c., the clear gain of £110 was left to promote the further improvement of the institution.

Amongst the laws are those constituting the People's College a self-supporting and self-governing educational institution: that all persons shall be eligible to become members that it shall be free from sectarian religion, and party politics: and that the surplus funds be applied exclusively for increasing the efficiency of the institution.

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We had heard much of the Sheffield College, and were not amongst those who expect to find the ministry of the people's self-earned learning housed in a palace, and therefore found more than we looked for. That was fair sized, cleanly, well lighted, and well ventilated rooms, in the heart of where the people work and dwell, where exist the social relations they may exalt and carry onward, and where the knowledge so acquired will best bear its fruits. But there was an earnestness in all we saw which would have graced a College of Massachusetts, or our own more aristocratic institutions, though many of the students were no other than the young men and apprentice lads we had seen at the forges, at the grinding wheels, and in the workshops that morning; and their studies no profounder, or more abstract, than plain rules of arithmetic, and lessons in writing. But no learning, however rudimentary, can be seperated from this condi tion of earnestness; if it is, it cases to be truthful; and

this is why the Mechanics' Institutes of this country have proved to so large an extent failures. The inductive link, between the working man's labour and his intellectual needs, was not clearly seen, even by institutors like Lord Brougham and others, who were the early promoters and patrons of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. The thing is, as we have elsewhere said, the moral and physical nature of man is in one respect in opposition; exhaust either by labour, and it becomes a matter of absolute rest, to bring its opposite into action; and therefore to those wearied by physical labour, the solution of a rule in arithmetic, the study of history, or a geometrical lesson in relation to design is, if the paradox may be allowed, the most stimulating and satisfactory of repose, whilst at the same time conducive to the need of sound and pregnant knowledge. But the contrary to this, was on two material points pur sued by the earlier promoters of Mechanics' Institutions for the working classes. It was conceived that, because the artisan had been in his workshop all day, that knowledge must be made seductive; and however profound the subject chosen, he must be treated with it as children with physic-that is sugared. He was favoured with what was called "a popular" elucidation of astronomy, "a popular dissertation on heat," "an entertaining analysis of the steam engine;" but once these entertaining facts worn threadbare, and his interest wearied by reiteration, he found himself as ignorant as before, or in possession of just that smattering of scientific knowledge which disclosed the difficulties which attend the acquirement of all truth; and thus disgusted by the very knowledge which he needed, his support and interest were no longer given. This shows that we cannot invert the processes of truth. Support thus withdrawn, and popularity lessened, a new stimulus was sought by managers and committees; and concerts and lectures on every-day subjects, were brought into operation, with no other result in innumerable instances, than that of attracting another class who, occupied more by mental than physical labour, were glad to procure amusement at a cheap rate. Hence Mechanics' Institutes have notoriously passed into middle class hands; and a very able report which now lies before us fully bears out this fact.

But the people, the handicraftsmen of this country want knowledge; they want that species of knowledge which possesses the stimulus of being connected with the duties and interests of their daily life; they want instruction in that class of knowledge which is truth based upon induction; namely, knowledge which grows out of a consideration of their peculiar local needs, as design in relation to metallic art for Sheffield and Birmingham, to textile art for Norwich and Manchester; they want instruction in the teening facts of the history of this great country, and to be taught that its principles of liberty are sterling, its laws noble, in spite of much error and need of reformation; and they want finally to be taught that the greatest reformation wanting, is of men, not things; and that the exercise of their own individual temperance, prudence, and forethought, is what this country and this generation require. As the noble Pestalozzi beautifully said, "The amelioration of outward circumstances will be the effect, but can never be the means of mental and moral improvement." Now if people's colleges be ably carried onward, such needs may be fully satisfied; but there must be no attempt to make a royal road to learning, by pleasant sedatives, for knowledge possesses within itself the sweetest and most attractive of allurements; and what attractions may be needed, let them be found apart, at the concert and lecture room, and not as mere matters for amusement in connection with the institution intended to carry out the purposes of a college. But we must not be supposed to condemn all classes of lectures; those in inductive connexion with the branches of knowledge taught, form a desirable method for the able

teacher; but it is when unconnected, when out of the line of all method, when mere persiflage, that we object to them. The lecturers in the hospitals of London and Edinburgh do not entertain their students with an essay on comic actors, or a digression on architecture; and the same rule holds good, though the students be but handicraftsmen, and the studies but rudimentary.

In this institution of Sheffield, as in others organized on the same principles, the chief class hours are in the evening, between half-past seven to nine, and the best attendance is secured at this period. Whilst, it is observed, that with all the students, more or less, the signs of the day's toil have been effaced before the hour of meeting, and an air of decency and cleanliness is the usual characteristic. Indeed, as respects the females, we particularly noticed that they were cleanly and well dressed, and far more earnest students, than some philosophers who conceive woman has no other vocation than to darn stockings and make puddings, might like to have witnessed; and so far from being as such philosophers would imagine, the attendance of females has been found highly conducive to the order and respectful deportment of the other classes. One thing appears to us wanting in this department of the People's College, namely, a class of instruction that might tell upon the progress of domestic life. And here it is in a department of this kind that the females of the middle and higher classes ought to prove serviceable; and, through lessons or written discourses on cooking, housewifery, and the management of children, conduce to a most needful and most important public and social end. If extraneous and separated from the ordinary duties of rudimentary learning, no efficient committee, especially one formed of young and able men like that of the Sheffield College, who have not been hardened by half a century of routine, into a fashion of domestic life, far from being productive either of comfort or happiness, would refuse a separate room for such classes; and we do hope, at this hint thrown out of what is needed, that some will be found willing to become teachers of this character. Many a plate-burnisher, many a file-scourer, many an apprentice girl, might be, by such method, taught a hundred different lessons, the effects of which would, in the next generation, be grave enough for the consideration of the philanthropist, the moralist, and the physician.

Through the forthcoming year we shall turn our attention to this class of topics; and, in the meanwhile, we cannot press too earnestly upon the consideration of this and similar institutions, the noble and earnest work there is for them to do, both in the relation of monitor and student; and whilst it is in the power of the former to show both ministers and people what can be done by the force of co-operativa earnestness, it is in the power of the latter, to demonstrate that true education is no fallacy in its connection with manual labour; and to show, in perhaps another instance, that the heights of Wharncliffe can inspire anew, and the soil of Hallamshire be not destitute of the noble in their generation.

ECCENTRIC PEOPLE.

SILVERPEN.

"Masters! it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly.” Ir may be well to begin with a declaration that these few remarks have nothing whatever to do with the eccentricities of genius. I am of opinion that these are not eccentricities at all, in the true meaning of the word; they are not departures from a known law which should regulate the being, but an unconscious conformity with a higher law, to a knowledge of which we have not yet attained. I am not a genius, reader, and we will take it

for granted that you are not a genius; but we need not, on that account, behave like fools and ignorant persons. Let us always avoid that deadliest sin of folly and ignorance, viz., laughing at what is superior to ourselves, at what we don't understand. Let us use a becoming reverence in speaking of all higher and but partially understood intelligences; let us never presume to ridicule or censure the so-called eccentricities of true genius. Let the great workers, the great sufferers for humanity, -those who pioneer the way for us into the path less unknown-who make vast conquests in the spiritur world, that their fellow-creatures turn to account in every-day life; let genius be ever honoured and respected, even by those who are least able to offer it the solace of sympathy and thorough appreciation.

Our present business has nothing to do with genius; it is far less aspiring in its nature. By "eccentric people," I mean people whose sole claim to distinction and admiration, is, what they and their friends are pleased to call, their eccentricity or oddity. I should be sorry to say an unkind thing, but I cannot help wishing that you may have had as much experience among eccentric people as your humble servant; because, I should then feel quite sure of carrying you along with me in what I am about to say. Truly, "nature hath framed strange fellows in her time;" but there are fellows who have framed themselves far more strangely than nature would have done, if they had let her alone.

It is not for nothing that tender infants learn the Latin grammar. From the time when I could first

construe

"Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas," I have maintained a diligent search after happiness by trying to find out the causes of things. Bungler as I am, the object of my search has never yet come to hand. Nay, rather, has its very opposite been thrust upon me instead. Tired with repeated failures, I am now going to make up my mind to reach my "being's end" without accomplishing what some folks consider its "aim." Still, my little experiences in the investigation of certain causes may amuse, if they do not benefit, others; and if you like to listen to me, dear reader, you

shall hear some of them now.

such a physique, it is unfortunate that Narcissus should be smitten with the desire to be esteemed "a proper man and stalwart, besides a very Adonis as regards grace and beauty, and in speech

"As musical as is Apollo's lute."

lack of wit," of which commodity you shall not pick up a Then, again, Narcissus is endowed with "a plentiful grain of his dropping, though he go through all the subjects of an encyclopædia, during your conversation with him. Yet, he would fain have you think that Sidney Smith, Sir James Macintosh, and Theodore Hook, were not so good at table-talk as be. Wisdom of the higher sort, which we use on the red letter days of life; and that which is the wisdom of working days and lower things, viz., common-sense; of these Narcissus he has a sincere and ardent admiration for his own sup

desires you to believe he has the lion's share. In short,

posed qualities. At one time it seemed likely that he would be doomed to that melancholy passion spoken of by La Fontaine as "L'amour de même sans avoir de rivaux," which we can but imperfectly render into English, as, "Love of oneself without having any rivals." This appeared to be his probable fate; when, fortunately, a distant relation died, leaving him £3,000 per annum, and the name of Strangeways.

A strange idea came into the head of our friend Narcissus Strangeways. Now, he was rich, he could make himself notorious; he would shine forth upon the world as an eccentric character. Even Narcissus was not silly enough, or sanguine enough, to think of producing any effect in that character as a poor man. But now that he was rich, Mr. Narcissus Strangeways was sure of success. He speedily became known as "an extraordinary man." "Such an eccentric creature!" "Really the greatest oddity in the world!"

He built himself a house, which answered his purpose, of making people stare, as well as might have been expected. It was in the form of a pyramid, with the apex downwards. Having learned, from historical reading, that the meat-eating races of men have, in all ages, been the greatest workers and thinkers; the strongest, physically; and, upon the whole, the best developed Having studied the characters of eccentric people necessity of living upon rice and potatoes, cabbages and mentally, Mr. Strangeways thinks proper to advocate the attentively, this conclusion has forced itself upon my barley-water, in order to facilitate the perfection of the mind:-the eccentricity of all sane persons, who do not human race. In the matter of clothing, the eccentricities possess genius, or any extraordinary amount of talent, of Narcissus Strangeways would astonish all writers upon proceeds from two chief causes, viz., vanity and perversity costume, including Messrs. Moses and Son, M. Planché of temper. In almost all cases there is a union of the and Sartor Resartus. As to considering man in the two; although, in some, the love of admiration pre-light of a forked radish, that must be covered up, lest it dominates, and, in others, the love of opposition.

The eccentricity of the very vain man begins in this way he is neither handsome, accomplished, amiable, elever, or in any way remarkable; and yet he burns to be noted among men ; to be "the observed of all observers." He is an ingenious self-flatterer, but still his instinct tells him truly, that he was not born great, and is not likely to achieve greatness by the exercise of his moral and intellectual qualities. But he is far too vain to be contented with his natural insignificance. As he cannot make himself superior to the generality, he determines to differ from them. In some way he will make himself notorious to his own little world; if it be only by standing on his head, or wearing his coat the hind part before. If people will but look at him, and talk about him, the vain man, who sets up for an oddity, is contented, although they look to laugh at, and talk

to blame him.

be injured by cold; as a lay-figure for the becoming arrangement of drapery; or, as a machine for reforming tailors' bills,-Narcissus Strangeways has "no such stuff" in his thoughts. His idea of dress is, that it is a vast field for the exercise of eccentricity; and, consequently, a capital means of getting one's-self stared at. This he makes very evident; for he never wears a coat, waistcoat, or pair of trowsers like other people; and, like Spenser's celebrated giant, he is much admired

"By fools, women, and boys."

(Pardon the poet's want of gallantry, fair readers, but he did not live in our day, you must remember.)

It is a pleasant sight to see Mr. Strangeways at a public place, or in a private party. At the theatre, for instance, he turns his back to the stage during the best actor's best scene, and endeavours to attract the attention of the persons near him, by carefully examining his teeth Of this class is my friend Mr. Narcissus Strangeways. in a pocket mirror. During Jenny Lind's finest cadence Nature has, in no way, singled out Narcissus from the race he will rise with a frown, and lounge out of the box, as her peculiar favourite. He is little, not to say stumpy; whistling "Cease, rude Boreas." At a full dress evenplain, not to say unpleasant-looking. His voice is suching party he will appear with dirty boots and linen, and as you may buy, any day, for sixpence, in a toy-shop, a face to match. He never agrees with the general imprisoned in the leather sides of a barking dog. With opinion, because nobody would wonder if he did. His

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