Imatges de pÓgina


WE HAVE, MORE THAN ONCE, at all events half, wished that we could conscientiously adopt the creed of the "poor Indian," who

"Thinks, admitted to an equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company; but, alas! he is of "the brutes that perish;" and the wish is an idle, it may be a murmuring one. But that a dog has nothing more than mere instinct that a dog doesn't think, we defy the most learned Theban that ever wrote or lectured to convince us. We do not mean to say that he is a philosopher, or a moralist, or a poet; but he feels and he reasons, for all that-and he shames or ought to shame, not a few of his very rational lords and masters.

footman or our housemaid, or any man or maid on the face of the earth, destroyed at one fell swoop the labor of years, we verily believe the readers of next morning's Times would have been horrified by three entire columns of "awful murder and felo-de-se." But had it been thou, oh, Rover, our little harmless, playful doggie, thou who didst never provoke one frown of anger upon our brow, but one wag of thy tail dispelled it in hadst done the wrong, we should, with all a moment had it been thou, we say, who the meekness of the immortal philosopher,


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(Continued from Page 11.)

WE ENTERED INTO A FULL EXPOSURE, in our January number, of certain ignorant and unprincipled quacks, who deluged the town with their deceptive advertisements; luring thousands into their deep-laid snares, and practising seriously upon the wits as well as the purses of their numerous dupes. We have reason to believe that our exposure was attended with some beneficial results.

Another of these advertising sharks is in the field; and we are requested by a correspondent, to register her among the other speckled birds. Her avowed name is Madame Maxwell; and her mission, she tells us, is to bring about unions between people of opposite sentiments, rendering the matter "delightfully pleasant to both;" and being in all cases "highly successful." This from the mouth of a woman !

When we threw down our newspaper this morning, after breakfast, and sauntered to the parlor window for the mere purpose, as an ordinary observer would have conjectured, of standing there with our hands in our pockets our children didn't know it-the wife of our bosom didn't know it—we scarcely even knew it ourselves-but Rover, our dog, knew it; and he came frisking and bounding from his prescriptive corner of the hearth rug, and looking up in our face, and bowwow-ing (for which we first thrashed him bodily, and then ourselves mentally, though, in truth, the cuff we gave him would hardly have sufficed to disturb the most superannuated flea of the tribe which made in him their dwelling), and running to the door, and scampering back again, and then jumping bolt upright as high as he could jump, and looking as if he would give his ears to say bow-wow once more-only he durst notand so, as it was there ready at his tongue's end, easing it off gently through his teeth in the shape of a sort of pleasurable growl; and then lying down, and yet peering up ever into our face with a kind of half supplicating, half reproachful expression, which We should have let this pretender pass said, as plainly as looks can say, "Well, I'm down the stream of time forgotten, had we almost afraid it's of no use, but I won't give not observed how energetically she is adit up for all that," and then-" Bless my vertising, and spreading her nets to catch soul! are we to be kept a whole month the unwary. She is a first-rate artiste in learning what this dog of yours did know?" humbug; consequently, her victims are Now, thank your stars, good readers, that numerous. Her presumption is only exwe are of a placid and gentle disposition-ceeded by her gross indelicacy, or rather for, by that intemperate interruption of yours, profligacy. you have cut short one of the most faithful touches of description that we have penned for this many a day. Had we been sudden and quick in quarrel, it might have cost you more than the loss of the picture you have so unceremoniously marred. But, alas! you feel it not-we say to you as Sir Isaac said to his spaniel, "Ah! Diamond! Diamond! thou little knowest what mischief thou hast done!" Had we been in the knight's place on that most trying occasion, and had our

Her mode of procedure is this. All persons who want to "win a lover," as she terms it, are to enclose her thirteen stamps, and she will then furnish them full instructions. These instructions are received in

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*We may very appositely introduce here, in a note, the report of a curious " action recently brought to recover fifteen shillings. Mr. Gay, it appears, wanted a wife, and did not know how to set about" getting one. What an odd idea

the form of a small printed book; consisting of some seven pages. It is entitled "Matrimony made Easy." There is also another abomination, called the "Etiquette of Love." In these books, the strictest secresy is promised to be observed. Of course! Now the iniquity of this, must be self-evident; for so artfully are the advertisements worded, that victims innumerable must fall into this creature's clutches. It appears that

it is, for people to want "assistance" in so pleasant an occupation as wooing! We confess WE cannot understand it at all. To oblige Mr. Gay, a friend, Mr. Paine, feigned illness; and by these means, Mr. Gay got a "nice" introduction to a delightful family. He slipped in as a doctor! Oh, fie Mr. Gay! But here is the Report: "Mr. Gay was a surgeon, of Old Brompton, and the defendant, Mr. Paine, is an unmarried gentleman, of Wellington-square, Chelsea. Mr. Gay said he had supplied the defendant with a mixture and a box of pills, and had attended him six times; for which visits he charged half-a-crown each. He had not charged for the mixture. Mr. Delamere, the defendant's solicitor, said that his client resided with a gentleman at Brompton, who had a family of beautiful daughters. Mr. Gay, who was a single man, was anxious to obtain an introduction to the young ladies, with the view to choose a wife. With this object he sought the services of Mr. Paine, who very foolishly pretended to be ill; and, accordingly, the professional services of Mr. Gay were sought to alleviate the sufferings of the patient. Mr. Paine, on being called, stated that Mr. Gay informed him of his wish to pay his attentions to a nice young lady, as he was sick of being single-(laughter)-and he intreated witness to introduce him to one(laughter). He mentioned and recommended the young ladies at their house; but how to get an introduction was, for some time, a poser to them(laughter). It could only be carried out by stratagem; and it was devised by plaintiff and himself that he (defendant) should fall ill-roars of laughter) and write a letter to Mr. Gay to visit him-(prolonged merriment). He felt unwell(laughter) and wrote the note proposed by Mr. Gay-"Dear Sir, I want to see you immediately. I am alarmingly ill. Yours, &c. Postscript. Only myself and the Misses- -at home, my boy-(shouts of merriment)." Mr. Gay came immediately. There was nothing whatever the matter with him-(laughter)—and he never took the stuff that was sent, but threw it to the dogs(renewed laughter). As to the six visits the plaintiff had charged him for, it was a downright "do." At any rate, five out of the six visits were paid to the young ladies, and Mr. Gay had the modesty and impudence to charge him half-a-crown for each of the wooing visits-(shouts of laughter). Besides that, he was invited to dinner each time. He had never had any rash, saving the rashness of introducing the plaintiff to his friends.-The judge (Adolphus): I think, if it be a joke, it ought to be followed out-laughter). Fifteen shillings is, perhaps, too much to pay for it. My judgment will be for ten shillings, and that is not too much for a rich joke like this."-[Dirt cheap!] ED. K.J.

she keeps "a stock on hand" of lads and lasses, men and women-all ready and eager for partnership-only waiting the waving of her wand. We shall not waste time nor space upon this most infamous book; but we notice it, for the sake of seeing whether such a system cannot be put a stop to. It genders an amount of moral evil which it is perfectly terrible to contemplate.

We hardly need say, that when a woman is bad, she knows no bounds. Whether Madame Maxwell is bad, let our readers judge. Her book ends thus:

I feel increased confidence in publishing my system of "introduction;" and shall with much pleasure advise any person, male or female, by letter or otherwise, on any difficult point, draw up and insert their advertisement in the most eligible medium, arrange for a private address; and then forward their letters. Indeed, I will conduct the matter to a successful issue. The strictest secresy will be observed; and, be it remembered, there is such novelty and fascination about the system of courtship, that none can resist its captivating influence. There is also another way by which the above object can be realised. I am daily in communication with hundreds, of the highest respectability, of both sexes, as to ages, classes, and conditions (having at the present moment the names of thirty-five titled persons in my list), who are anxious to form matrimonial alliances. It therefore necessarily follows, that I can generally introduce any person to a partner in every way suited to their fancy, possessing all the qualities essential to happiness; and render the married state, what indeed it ought to be, an earthly paradise of bliss.

Thus it will appear, that although I have recommended advertising, such a course is rarely necessary; that is, where my correspondents will avail themselves of my experience; for(as I before intimated) being in communication with hundreds, both male and female, of the first respectability and standing in society, I can always introduce the exact style of person that is required, and will pledge myself not to introduce any who I am not fully satisfied are in every way eligible. All those who may feel diffident, may rest assured that, with my mediation, an introduction can be arranged with the nicest delicacy and secresy— while all may be married if they will only avail themselves of my recommendations. Marriages promising the happiest results are almost daily occurring through my assistance, and I hope that all my readers will have more good sense than to allow their prospects of future happiness to be in any way impeded by the silly forms of etiquette! I shall be happy to arrange the whole matter for any person, on condition of receiving part of any amount agreed upon at the commencement of my services, with an understanding that I receive the remainder when marriage is effected; and if favored by letter or otherwise with full particulars as to age, appearance, circumstances, prospects, &c., &c., with the style of partner preferred-all this can be settled to the satisfaction of both parties previous to the first interview, which may take place at my residence-it being excellently

adapted for the purpose, or elsewhere, as agreed


Now, we ask-is not this diabolical? Marriage, which ought to be the most sacred of all engagements, is here used as a mere peg for an advertisement. The word "marriage," we conceive, is but a colorable evasion of something far too shocking to contemplate. People thus "introduced would very rarely, we imagine, take refuge in matrimony. We should rather expect to see them falling from the top of the monument, or to hear of a shocking catastrophe having taken place on Waterloo Bridge!

Oh, what an age of wickedness is this!


people know about the sky! It is the part IT IS A strange thing how little, in general, of creation in which Nature has done more for the sake of pleasing man-more for the sole and evident purpose of talking to him, and teaching him, than in any other of her works; and it is just the part in which we

least attend to her.

The noblest scenes of the earth can be seen and known but by few. It is not intended that man should live always in the midst of them. He injures them by his presence-he ceases to feel them if he be always with them. But the sky is for all; bright as it is, it is not "too bright nor good for human nature's daily food." It is fitted in all its functions for the perpetual comfort and exalting of the heart, for the soothing it and purifying it from dross and dust. Sometimes gentle, sometimes capricious, somtimes awful: never the same for two moments together; almost human in its passions, almost spiritual in its tenderness, almost divine in its infinity. Its appeal to what is immortal in us, is as distinct as its ministry of chastisement or of blessing to what is mortal is essential. And yet we never attend to it-we never make it a subject of thought, but as it has to do with our animal sensations!

We look upon all by which the sky speaks to us, more clearly than to brutes-upon all which bears witness to the invention of the Supreme-that we are to receive more from the covering vault than the light and the dew that we share with the weed and the worm. There exists nothing, of meaningless and monotonous accident; too common and too vain to be worthy of a moment of watchfulness or a glance of admiration. If in our moments of utter idleness and insipidity we turn to the sky as a last resource, which of its phenomena do we speak of? One says it has been wet; another it has been windy; and another it has been warm.

Who among the whole clattering crowd

can tell us, of the forms and the precipices of the chain of tall white mountains that gilded the horizon at noon yesterday? Who saw the narrow sunbeam that came out of the south, and smote upon their summits until they melted and mouldered away in a dust of blue rain? Who saw the dance of the dead clouds, when the sunlight left them last night, and the west wind blew them before it like withered leaves? All has passed unregretted or unseen; or, if the apathy be ever shaken off, even for an instant, it is only by what is extraordinary.

And yet it is not in the broad and fierce manifestation of the elemental energies-not in the clash of the hail, nor the drift of the whirlwind-that the highest characters of the sublime are developed. God is not always so eloquent in the earthquake, nor in the fire, as in "the still, small voice."

ties of our nature, says John Ruskin, which They are but the blunt and the low faculcan only be addressed through lamp-black and lightning. It is in quiet and subdued passages of unobtrusive majesty, the deep, and the calm, and the perpetual-that which must be sought ere it is seen, and loved ere it is understood things which the angels work out for us daily, and yet vary eternally, which are never wanting and never repeated, which are to be found always, yet each found once. It is through these that the lesson of devotion is chiefly taught, and the blessing of beauty given.


An Editorial Secret.

A secret in the Public's mouth,
Is like a wild-bird put into a cage-
Whose door no sooner opens, but 'tis out.

VERY CURIOUS IS OUR POSITION JUST NOW, and very curious are some of the letters and communications that find their way into our "Editor's letter-box."

We are daily puzzled, perplexed-confounded, by some of the questions put to us. Our correspondents, masculine and feminine, multiply exceedingly. Gladly would we remain neuter, as regards certain questions; but finding no rest given us until we have answered them, we reluctantly comply with the wishes of the writers. We are expected to know everything, and to furnish advice gratis!

Under such circumstances, no wonder is it that we are obliged to preserve the strictest incognito; and to shroud ourself closer than ever in the "mysterious cloak," so often referred to. This said cloak has stood us in good stead-rendering us perfectly invisible. Hundreds have tried to waylay us, but we have readily slipped through their fingers; and hundreds have " called" to see

us, and slunk away disappointed. Our name is secret, our person impalpable to the touch, our ensemble invisible to the sharpest eye. We flit into our sanctum noiselessly, and dissolve into thin air when we make our exit to the busy world. We see and hear every thing, yet are we seen and heard by none. We repeat this, to satisfy all who are so annoyingly "curious." They never have seen us-never will see us. Why, therefore, do they sacrifice so much valuable time? If we reply to all questions asked-what would they more?

There is only one way of getting access to our royal person; and that is, by the chord of sympathy and cordiality which genially binds us and our choicest readers so closely together. That is the key which unlocks

our heart.

are wielded with an impetus commanding atten-
tion wherever exhibited, his natural feeling of
humility asserts her prerogative; allowing no
appearance of pride to divide the laurels, or share
the honorable position it is his destiny to fill.
mortalium omnibus horis sapit), so no character
But as no one is correct at all hours (Nemo
make inroads, to act as antagonistics. These
can be "perfect." Imperfections must and will
may be wisely designed to show, by contrast, the
spotless beauty of virtue and the hideous deformity
of vice. Ambition, therefore, the graphiologist
would deem to be "the
failing; but the
poisoned barb is mollified by Benevolence.
Wealth may be desired and sought after; but
no mercenary motive will be instrumental in its


The desire for domestic happiness and comfort, in "Ignotus" reigns paramount; nor would he his recreation--suffering any invasion upon We will visit all over the world, rather a personal pecuniary deprivation; for, like Esop's bow, when "Once relax'd,

most gladly; only let the masonic signal of
brotherly and sisterly love reach us. The
open sesame" that we require, is simple;
but it is eloquent. We seek no honor, want
no homage-but wherever we go, we must
feel at home." These remarks will be
extensively understood. They are called for,

or would not have been offered. OUR
JOURNAL is a printed record of what we are.
What we therein profess, that do we practise.
Singular are we-very!

We may introduce here, very consistently, the result of a note addressed to us by one of our kind readers. The object of his communication was, to set us right upon the subject of a remark we made at page 258-about "Character-reading." We ridiculed the idea of any one being able to define character simply by the handwriting, and called all such professors "jugglers."

Our unknown friend says:

Do send thirteen stamps to the address enclosed, and fill up the required particulars. You will assuredly get an answer; and when it reaches you, print it. It is a public question; and those who know you, can say whether you have received

a false character or not.

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"Twill bear a tighter string."

Such is a literal transcript of " Our Editor's" character.* The power of divination in the graphiologist, He gives it as he received it. is left for the decision of the public.

ideas that some people form of our identity and * It is not a little amusing to note the very odd qualifications. On reaching home, we frequently find on our table letters addressed to us as a "

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reverend," a "doctor," a "professor," &c., &c. Our worthy postman is bewildered-fairly puzzled, by our famous titles," each day adding to the variety. A question was recently raised in a public carriage, travelling through Hammersmith to London-as to who we really were. A strange gentleman (very strange!) took upon himself to answer the question. He said he knew us wellvery well; and that we were-a Quaker! He described us as of "a stern presence, but of uncompromising principles; austere in manner, but of a kind heart, hard features, a rotund_person, and a peculiarly-plain cut.' We nev-er! Perhaps, however, it is well to be thus "figured." It will protect our royal person. "Our Editor" of a stern presence and hard features! rotund, austere—and a Quaker too! Let us remark that, if not provokingly handsome, he is not so alarmingly ugly. He is "sensitive" on this point!-ED. K. J.


WHY dost thou wound and break my heart,
As if we should for ever part?
Hast thou not heard an oath from me,
After a day, or two, or three,

I would come back and live with thee?
Take, if thou do'st distrust that vowe,
This second protestation now;
Upon thy cheeke that spangl'd teare,
Which sits as dew of roses there;
That teare shall scarce be dri'd before
I'll kisse the threshold of thy dore;
Then weepe not, sweet; but thus much know,—
I am halfe return'd before I go.


An infant, everybody knows, is flooded in milk whenever it begins to pipe. This uni

NATURE'S with "little" pleased. "Enough's" a feast; versal remedy, we find, the infant stomach

A sober life but a small charge desires.
But man, the author of his own unrest,
The more he eats, the more he still requires.

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have, we find, immortalised us
all over the civilised world.
Even those who at first dif-

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considers unwise. But the noisy teat-ling cannot always be supplied by its own mother; and, in such a case, it is handed over to a "wet nurse," who largely increases its internal torments by the peculiar flavor of the supplies:

The sweet almondy taste of the delicious food fered from us have gradually my poor mother gave me, says the Stomach,veered round, and now conwas changed to a sort of London milk, slightly impregnated with Geneva. The tricks this woman fess we are right. This is well. We love to played were frightful. The doctors told her to see people enjoy themselves; nay, more-we drink porter; and so she did, and every other sort like to join in their enjoyment, 'provided of liquor into the bargain, to be obtained at the always" Moderation takes the head of the public-house. The worst of it was, I had no re table, and Discretion sits as Vice-President. dress, but I took care to let everybody participate Then can we be jolly as anybody. Our in my disgust, by inciting my neighboring arms animal spirits are positively boundless. This and legs to kicks and contortions; and to the small by the way. voice which dwelt upstairs, I suggested such shrill cries as made every person in the house detest the little body of which I was the centre.

The human Stomach is a curiosity. Born with certain powers, it exercises them always for the benefit of its owner; but when overtasked, it turns restiff, and very properly throws off its load. A good thing is it that it can throw it off! Our aldermen must think so sometimes, for their motto is,—

Oh! that my stomach were a cable long, and every inch a palate!

We have just received a very useful and a very clever little work, called "Memoirs of a Stomach;" and the preceding remarks have been made by way of introducing its author, who is just the sort of person to write such a book-being "A Minister of the Interior." We have a great regard for this said minister, and most cordially recommend the cultivation of his acquaintance by all who are in the habit of eating and drinking. He peeps into the stomach of a babe, deluged with pap; and tells us, in vivid language, all the narrow escapes from destruction we every one of us have experienced, from the pap-boat upwards. This is done sagaciously and pleasantly; indeed we never met with a more waggish "Minister of the Home-department." Soft as pap is, he hits us hard with it!

But as everybody will read this book, we shall merely offer a few random extracts. What is a Stomach? Listen to its own voice :

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My personal appearance, I must acknowledge, is not prepossessing, as I resemble a Scotch bagpipe in form, the pipe part being the oesophagus or gullet, and the bag myself. I often wish there were more 'stops," especially when I am played upon by gluttony; and perhaps there would have been, could I give vent to noises similar to those of the Caledonian instrument, whose strains are so terrible that the brave Highlanders are said to rush into battle to escape them.

If every Stomach could speak, would it not be loud in abuse of its owner! We think so.

VOL. III.-22.


This accounts for so many ugly babies,— said to be "choked with wind!”~ˇBut now for step further. We are peeping into a cup of bread-sop-a most curious-looking, unlikely article, for keeping a child's stomach in order :

I believe my innocent attendants imagined they were giving me ground corn. Corn, indeed! Why, when I came to test it by the aid of my powerful machine of analysis-a machine so strong I could dissolve a marble, and tell you its component parts when, I say, I came to test it by a strong acid, found that there was not more than twenty per cent. of flour in the whole composition, the remainder being made of a common sort of starch, alum, ground bones, potato flour, and often plaster of Paris. In a penny bun lately analysed, were found three grains of alum and ten of chalk, and in others plaster of Paris.


We cannot, nor is it needful for us to follow the Stomach in all its accurate delineations of what is going on hourly in the whole human race. We can only wonder that the "Bills of Mortality" are so comparatively light, considering the pains taken to produce sudden has a stomach. The "Minister of the Intedeath, or lingering illness, by every one who rior" is justly hard upon tobacco, and the fumes of smoke; which no doubt do send tens of thousands yearly to their long home. We have written against the use of it, till we are weary, also, against its twin brother, ardent spirit. The Stomach says, that tobacco is

A most deadly weed; a spirit of evil ushered in by fire, and exorcised by sickness! Nature made it nauseating-poisonous: but man, combating with the penalty she placed upon his use of it, puffs away through a whole existence; and this first specimen I received was the puff preliminary. Repetition overcame my dislike to the taste, and at length with the true philosophy of my race, I

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