1

variety would have been displayed the extent of his information and his sagacity; and even in the peculiar path he had chosen, no one who knew him doubts that the concluding portion of his labours would have been the most valuable.

BENEVOLENCE OF THE POOR.

[The following paper, by the late Alexander Bethune, the enlightened and pure-minded Fifeshire peasant, seems to us of considerable value, from the presumable truthfulness of all that is stated in it as fact. In this character it is of consequence, we think, as a report on the economy, circumstances, and feelings of a portion of the humbler classes; that subject which is now everywhere engaging so much attention. At the same time some abatement must needs be made from Bethune's remarks on the affluent classes-a subject on which the poor man is generally as much a visionary as the rich man is about the poor, and from the same sad cause-ignorance.]

At a short distance from his place of residence stands what was once a little lonely farm; but the land which belonged to it being taken in lease some years ago by a neighbouring farmer, the offices were fitted up for dwelling-houses, and are now inhabited. Past it winds one of those broken, uncouth, and ill-conducted roads, which, half a century ago, were all our fathers had to travel on. This road is now little frequented, save by the ragged boy who takes it for a nearer cut, or the wandering beggar, who, finding it difficult to supply his wants and procure quarters near the highway, where his trade is overdriven, strikes off into remote and secluded districts, where he has fewer competitors, and the people are more willing to bestow an alms.

Along this road, a few days ago, came a man, a woman, and two children, the youngest of whom, a suckling infant, she carried in her arms. The man was To become rich is evidently, with many, the sole aim middle-aged, the woman apparently still young; and and object of their existence. With the single idea want and privation were pictured in the faces of the of riches, they seem to associate comfort, consequence, whole. The man entered the first house he came to, "space in the world's thought," and all that is worth while the woman-she was his wife-with the children, following after. Yet the rich rarely fail to tell us of remained at the door. Here the family were in mode the miseries they endure-of the accumulation of care, rate circumstances, and comfortable for their station. and the increase of anxiety, which fortune inflicts on He asked and obtained leave "to light his pipe." The them. The poor would be rich, while the rich indulge pipe was empty; and after several unsuccessful atin day-dreams about the happiness of the poor. Both tempts, it was given up as hopeless; but there appeared are perhaps deceived by appearances. That the rich in his manner still a wish to linger. He was, however, are so, might easily be proved. Many of those evils told that he must go, and went. When he came out, his of which not a few of the rich complain, might be wife and he exchanged hopeless looks, and their heads entirely cured by a better acquaintance with those of dropped heavily on their bosoms. They then proceeded that class which they deem so happy. How would it to the next door, and stood before it for a space, like alter the ideas of those who murmur over imaginary people seeking the means of escape from some terrible evils-those who never knew what it was to encounter calamity, or trying to muster courage for some desperate a real hardship, or meet a real misfortune in their lives attempt. At last the man entered as before, and agair -were they only subjected for a short time to live and he asked and obtained leave to light his pipe;" but labour with the poor! The lady, for instance, who again the pipe was empty, and his attempts to light it frets and supposes herself perfectly miserable, because unsuccessful. This was the house of a widow, whose she has been disappointed in her expectations of being husband had died about a twelvemonth before, leaving invited to this or that party, or because some part of her in very poor circumstances. Beside her, at the her dress does not become her well, or because twenty time, sat a woman, by courtesy called the wife of an other things, which might be mentioned, are not within invalid, whose earnings for many months had only a whole hair's-breadth of what she would have them- amounted to a few shillings. Infamy, it was said, was what would her feelings be, were she to take a scanty attached to their connexion; and this the world had not breakfast at six o'clock in the morning, travel two or failed to visit on their heads with something worse than three miles, and turn out by seven to spread manure, neglect. Here, however, the unfortunates were destined not with any instrument, but with her delicate white to find better fortune. After the pipe-lighting had fingers! Shrink not from the loathsomeness of the proved utterly unsuccessful, the wife and children were idea to spread dung with her fingers, in turnip or kindly invited to "come in and rest them." Their potato drills, till six in the evening; and should her wants were inquired into, and commiserated. Let pleastrength or dexterity prove less than that of her com- sure-hunting pomp blush to hear what follows. Neither panions, to have her ears assaulted with the oaths of the two, without the assistance of the other, could and upbraidings of a heartless wretch, whom his master supply the wants of the strangers. The one had a small keeps for the purpose; and to hear herself called upon quantity of milk, which had been the gratuitous gift of to "get on," in language with which no writer would a neighbour to herself; the other had a scanty store of blot his page! To add to the discomfort of the scene, meal, which she had probably purchased with her a wet day may be supposed, and the possibility of re- last shilling; and by laying their slender means toturning home drenched to the skin at night, to an ex-gether, they contrived to set before the hunger-bitten tinct fire! To deepen the picture yet another shade, travellers a meal-their breakfast. It was now althink of a woman supporting herself and a child, or, it most noon. This unwonted kindness drew forth their may be, two, upon the eightpence or tenpence a-day, which is the most this drudgery will produce. Say not that this is too dark a picture; its darkness might be deepened by many shades, and still the depth of those waters, through which many a poor man and woman must wade, remain untouched. Yet distressed, pinched, and scorned as the poor often are great as are their privations, it is surprising how much they often do for each other. Here the comparison between poor and rich is very striking. When the wealthy impart their guinea to relieve distress, they probably give but a five-hundredth or a thousandth part of their revenue. The poor in serving the poor frequently give the last mouthful of food which they can call their own. Surely this is benevolence with the least imaginable tincture of selfishness.

These desultory remarks were suggested by an incident with which their writer lately became acquainted.

story.

The man, according to his own account, was by trade a dyer; and after having fallen out of employment, and exhausted all the means he could think of for procuring it, he had quitted his home in the expectation of finding, if not work, at least food for himself and his starving family. But he had not been bred to beg, and could not ask it. With his wife matters were still worse. She was even ashamed to have it known that they were in want. The pipe-lighting had been often tried, and with various degrees of success. Sometimes it produced an inquiry if they had got their breakfast or their dinner; sometimes not. And on the previous night, after all their endeavours to procure the shelter of a house had failed, after they had preferred the request at every door they came to, so long as they could find a door open, or any one awake to listen, supperless, and wearied out with travelling, they had made their bed

beside a hedge, with the sky for curtains and a covering, the mother keeping her infant warm in her bosom, and the father doing his best to preserve animal heat in their other child. Thus they passed the night. As morning advanced, and early risers began to stir, they resumed their comfortless wanderings, in the hope that some one would offer them that bread which they could not muster courage to seek. But there are seasons when Fortune seems to set all her powers in array against the victims of her wrath. The pipe-lighting, and such other simple stratagems as they could devise, had all failed, and they had travelled, faint and fasting, till they found a morsel where this narrative found them.

When the cravings of nature were satisfied, and this simple story told, they parted with a few homely but heartfelt expressions of gratitude, a tear, and a promise if, should it please God that they should ever meet under a reverse of fortunes, they would not forget the kindness they had experienced beneath that humble roof. "While there is life there is hope," saith the proverb; and it is well for the poor that hope seldom abandons them. When friends have proved false, and fortune hath forsaken them, in the abyss of misery they cling to it; it cheers them with a meteor-light amid the storm; props them with its illusions when about to fall; leads them with a steady hand over the precipice of despair; nor ever leaves them till the mortal sweat is on their brows. And even then, when "earthly hope" is at an end, how often doth that other spirit, with eyes fixed above, support them in the last agony, and paint a smile on their countenances in that fearful struggle, when death is fast winning the victory.

fame is both fluctuating and perishing property. A nobler reward awaits every truly virtuous action: even the wish, where the power is wanting, will not be forgotten. Let them remember what a greater than the greatest upon earth said of the mite which the widow cast into the treasury. Let them consider that there is an eye on them which seeth not as man seeth-a Power above them, by whom justice cannot be partially dealt-a Judge before whom they must appear, who reckons not of men by the garb they wear, or the property they possess, or the professions they make, but by their thoughts and actions. Let this consideration stimulate them to do their duty; and let this, with the unsullied pleasure which always flows from a consciousness of doing good, be their reward when it is done. And, if it could serve as a prompter to patient perseverance in well-doing, let them be told that there are among the learned and the truly great men who take an interest in their welfare, hearts which pity their distresses, and hands which would not be slow to record their virtues, were they only known.

BRIGANDS IN SPAIN-PLEASANT TRAVELLING. THE following account of an incident of travel in Spain, characteristic of the state of that unhappy country, has lately appeared in various newspapers. It purports to be a letter from M. Tanskie, correspondent at Madrid of the Journal des Débats, Parisian newspaper, describing a journey he made a short time ago from Madrid to Bayonne. "I have just made acquaintance, in a manner somewhat dramatic, with the ladrones of Old Castile, who are a sort In the habitation of comfort, and comparatively easy for being the most cavalleros (gentlemanlike) men, and of juste milieu between the robbers of Andalusia, who pass circumstances, the wanderers had not been offered those of La Mancha, who are justly branded as the most even a seat, while in that of penury, and all but savage and cruel. After the new arrangement of the post absolute want, they had found pity and kindness, and between Madrid and Bayonne, the mails had been several the means of prolonging life for another day. It is times attacked by brigands, particularly soon after leaving thus the obscure and indigent help each other along Madrid. The government thereupon had the coach eson "life's thorny road," while the poet drivels non- corted by detachments of cavalry as far as Buitrago, and sense about the "happiness of humble cots," and the also certain stages between Aronda and Burgos; but they philosopher amuses himself in his study with fine-spun are not a sufficient protection. In fact, it was at two and theories for bettering their condition, and the political the mail in which I was a passenger was stopped. Two of a-half leagues from Orando, at eight in the evening, that economist tries to persuade them that poverty would the brigands seized the leading postilion, and pulled him constitute a perfect paradise if they would only do as he off his horse. Four others, two on each side, came to the bids them, little knowing that they do all they can, carriage, and called upon the coachman and the conductor and probably a great deal more than he would do were to come down. I was in the coupe with M. Mayo, a young he in their place. Let them continue to do so. Let Spanish advocate. The courier and a student were in the them nobly do their duty, heedless though the hero's interior. We were not suffered to alight, and as we were idol-this world's fame-should never smile upon them. all unarmed, we could not have made any effective resistThough the splendid gift and the liberal donation may ance. Indeed, had any one shown such a disposition, be far beyond their reach, let them offer the voice of the rest would have prevented him, because, in that case, Sometimes the robbers consolation and the friendly hand of assistance wher-all would have been murdered. ever these may be required. Let them cherish benevo-burn the coach and all the luggage, in the hopes of finding lence to each other, and those kindly sympathies of among the ashes such money and valuables as remain conwhich they often stand so much in need. When misfortune bears down its victim, or when the constitution is labouring under the attack of disease, and physical strength decays, then the perceptions often become quicker, and the senses more acute. The sufferer, whether from mental or corporeal pain, looks, as it were, into the very soul of those around him, and reads their thoughts without the assistance of their words. He who now writes, when his pulse beat feebly, and the tide of life seemed to ebb in his veins with every passing hour, has felt soothed by a look of sympathy, when he turned away with loathing from the cold inquiry and the offered gift. And when weakness pressed upon his frame, and pain preyed on every nerve, he has gathered fortitude to bear it from a kind word, the tone of which told from whence it came, when the lecture of the learned comforter, though it vibrated in his ear, left no impression on his heart. To the sympathies and the kindness of the poor he owes much, and he is proud to acknowledge it. Though the rich may pass them by with little pity, or abandon them to their fate, let them not abandon each other. Though obscurity may darken round their deeds, and oblivion wrap their names when they die, man's praise is but little worth, and

cealed.

After binding the hands of the postilion and driver behind their backs, they led the mules and carriage about five hundred yards off the road, on to the fields. There they made us all four get out, and then tied our hands behind our backs. The captain of the band, who was the only one on horseback, dismounted, and called upon us, in bad Castilian, to declare what money we had, and where it was, adding, that if we did not tell the truth, we should be victimised. He interrogated us with all the acuteness changing his tone and accent. of the most experienced commissary of police, frequently you come? where are you going? were questions put to Who are you? whence do us; and if we had had the misfortune to belong to any place near the haunts of the brigands, or had happened to know the person of either of them, we should have been inevitably assassinated. In fact, only three months ago, a poor postilion was killed by these brigands near the same spot, because he happened to be acquainted with one of them.

Americans, for if we had been, they would have completely They inquired of us whether we were Englishmen or stripped us; the Spanish lower orders of people imagining that the clothes of all the English and Americans are stitched with gold thread. Our interrogation finished, we were made to lie flat on the ground, with our faces downwards. This done, they plundered the coach, throwing

down all the trunks and packages. Knowing that they could not get mine open without breaking it to pieces, I looked up and told them that I would open it for them, and give up to them all the money it contained, if they would unbind my hands, for they had drawn the cord so tight that I was in great pain. They consented, and brought my trunk to me. The money they found in it did not satisfy them. They left me in the hands of one of their band, a young man between twenty and twenty-two years of age, who continued to search my trunk, while an older and fiercer brigand watched my every look and gesture, with his carbine levelled at me. The young man, although he made use of the coarsest oaths and other expressions the Spanish language could furnish him with, was not so savage as the rest, and this was evidently his first expedition. He carried neither carbine nor sword, and the only weapon he had was a Catalonian knife stuck in his belt. Everything he saw in my trunk caused him surprise and wonder. He asked me to tell him the use of each. On finding some rosaries, he exclaimed, Ah! you are a priest ? I told him no, but had bought the rosaries at a fair in Madrid as curiosities, and that they were of no real value. He, however, with great devotion kissed the crosses suspended to them and the other emblems, but finding they were of silver, he broke the string, letting them all fall to the ground. He carefully picked them up, and again kissed each cross and emblem, but at the same time renewed his oaths at his own awkwardness. He secured these and every other thing he thought valuable between his shirt and his skin; but my clothes and linen he put into a large sack, which appeared to be the common receptacle. I had also some small knives and daggers. He asked me what I did with them. I told him they had been sold to me as having been worn by the Manolas of Madrid under their garters. At this he laughed, and throwing two of them on the ground for me, he put the rest into his private magazine.

I hoped to make something of my young brigand; but while I was talking to him, the captain came suddenly up and struck me with violence on the back of the neck with the butt end of his carbine, saying in a furious tone, 'You are looking in his face, that you may be able to recognise him!' He then seized me by the right arm, while another took my left, and they again bound them behind my back. In my bad Spanish I assured him that I was a foreigner, but they threw me down upon the other passengers. I fell upon the driver, who was literally sewed up in two or three sheep-skins, with the wool outwards. I took good care not to stir from this position, for the ground was saturated with the snow which the sun had melted and brought down in streams from the Semo Sierra. By this probably I escaped the fever which attacked the student from Tolosa, who lay in the water more than an hour. When the brigands had secured all they thought worth taking, the captain remounted his horse, gave the word of command, and they all retreated. My young robber, in passing by me, put into my fastened hands the padlock and key of my trunk, and threw over my head a peasant's cloak.

After remaining some time recumbent, the postilion, whom the brigands had released before leaving, unbound the conductor, and thus one after the other we were all set The wind had scattered at liberty and upon our feet again. all my papers and books; my first object was to collect them. The postilion and coachman set to work in the meantime to take up such of my linen as the robbers did not think worth carrying away, but I begged them not to put themselves to so much trouble, and thus secured myself a change on reaching Bayonne. I also recognised in the hands of some of my fellow-travellers a sheep-skin I had been advised at Madrid to furnish myself with, a silk handkerchief, and a cap, which I claimed, and which served to keep me warm while crossing the plateau of Burgos, which was covered with snow and hoar-frost. As to the cloak bequeathed to me by my young thief, the conductor claimed it as his, saying that it was the custom of the brigands thus to cover those whom they had robbed, to prevent their This rather seeing what direction they moved off in. lowered in my estimation the gratitude I owed to my young thief.

On arriving at the small village of Orquillas, about half a league from where we had been stopped, a different scene awaited us. The courier and conductor, to account for the delay in the arrival of the mail at Irun, thought it necessary to apply to the local authorities. We were all shown into the venta of the village, which consisted of little more

than a kitchen within four bare walls, in which a young girl endeavoured to make a fire with some damp weeds and roots of trees, which sent forth a vile odour and a thick smoke, which filled the place, and set all our eyes weeping. The alcalde soon made his appearance in the venta, with the fiel de fechos-a species of escribano or registrar-accompanied by some peasants with guns in their hands, representing the national guard. The alcalde gravely seated himself by our sides on the wooden bench. He was about sixty years of age, clothed in an old cloak in rags, without any shirt; but en revanche he wore in great pride, a little tending to one side of his head, what was once a hat, but was now without any brim or top to the crown. The escribano was younger, but apparently more intelligent. He wore a peasant's dress, but had on also a pair of boots, a cravat of red cotton, and a hat entire in all its parts. He placed himself behind a table close to the alcalde, taking from his pocket pens, ink, and stamped paper.

The national guards were in jackets, and shod with abarcas, or square pieces of leather, fastened to their legs by long scraps crossed over them. The legs themselves were naked; and very few, if any, wore shirts. They looked upon us with a sort of contemptuous consequential smile. [Our depositions having been taken, the escribano gave orders in the name of the alcalde to the national guards.] He sent four of them in pursuit of the robbers, as he said, and four others were to accompany us. They loaded their muskets before us. The escribano pulled out of his pocket a handful of small pistol balls, and distributed them to the men, who put several of them into their trabucos.

The ceremony being finished, the alcalde rose up solemnly, took off his hat, the escribano did the same, and recommended us to follow his example, and swear that our depositions were sincere and exact. We obeyed, and repeated after him the oath usually administered in courts of justice. [We were now favoured with a little brandy, by the politeness of the postilion, having no money of our own: it was very acceptable, for we had tasted nothing for fourteen hours, and were very cold.] We then set out with the four national guards, and at the first stage some cavalry soldiers were added. Thus, when we had nothing to lose, and when we were in a fit condition to brave all the brigands in Spain, we travelled along escorted like princes, and fed at the expense of the mayoral, who at every inn stood our guarantee as far as Irun."

POEMS BY CLARINDA.

[CLARINDA (Mrs M'Lehose), whose correspondence with Burns we lately noticed in the Journal, was the authoress of a few fugitivo pieces of considerable taste and beauty. The following from the Appendix to the "Correspondence" will, we have no doubt, be read with pleasure.]

ON LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.
Talk not of Love! it gives me pain-
For love has been my foe:
He bound me in an iron chain,
And plunged me deep in wo!

But Friendship's pure and lasting joys
My heart was formed to prove→
The worthy object be of those,
But never talk of Love.

The "Hand of Friendship" I accept-
May honour be our guard,

Virtue our intercourse direct,
Her smiles our dear reward.

Your thought, if Love must harbour there,
Conceal it in that thought,

Nor cause me from my bosom tear
The very friend I sought.

ON THE LOSS OF MY CHILD.
Does Heaven behold these sadly-falling tears,
Shed by a mother o'er her darling child?
Ah, blasted hopes! and heart-distracting fears,
That fill my breast with frantic sorrow wild!
Yes, Heaven beholds; from thence the stroke descends,
And Heaven alone can heal the wounds it gave.
Oh, Thou, who dost afflict for gracious ends,
Lead my sad soul to scenes beyond the grave!
'Tis there alone all tears are wiped away;

There death-divided friends shall part no more.
Oh, Thou Supreme! whose years know no delay,
Teach me thy dispensations to adore.

66

Weekly Chit-Chat.

Play writers have now-a-days no pleasant duty. They must compose pieces not so much for the purpose of holding the mirror up to nature," as to suit the fancies of actors, a thing about as ridiculous as would be the writing of books to suit the taste of compositors. In a late article in Mr Jerrold's Illuminated Magazine, an ideal author, Mr Delawhang, who writes a play called the Road to Riches, submits his production to the manager of one of the metropolitan theatres, and receives it back along with the following characteristic letter:-"My dear Sir-We are all of opinion that the third act of your drama must be transposed with the first; because Mrs Z-(if she is to play your heroine) will not consent to appear in the dress you have described, after Miss Q- has already been seen by the audience in a similar costume. This is imperative. You must, my dear sir, if you wish the piece to escape failure, which now-a-days means great success, cut down your low comedy part. I acknowledge it is cleverly written, but it interferes unpleasantly with Mr -'s character, and he must be the feature, or he will not act at all. The part is too funny; you can reduce it to a mere walking gentleman. You can throw the jokes into the bit you have written for the second bailiff, which is short enough, and he is never on in Mr -'s scenes. The supper and champagne you have described in the second act must be entirely omitted. In these times of theatrical economy, the management cannot afford any expensive extra properties; you can speak about them, which will do just as well. I agree that it will cut out some very brilliant dialogue-but what are we to do? I would advise you, in a friendly way, to alter the title of your piece, and simply call it by the name by which you have designated the character intended for Mr. It will be quite worth the while of your music publishers to give the twenty guineas to Mrs Z, if she will introduce the song you have pointed out. She objects to sing it for less. You must concede all these matters, or the play will be laid aside; for I understand that the reading in the room was wholly ineffective. Yours most sincerely, P. S. Send it altered in the morning." Female Wood Engravers.-We are glad to see, by announcements in the newspapers, that a class for the instruction of young women in wood-engraving has been lately established in the government School of Design, Somerset House, London. No doubt there will be many competitors for instruction in this elegant art; but we should recommend no lady to think of applying herself to it, who is not already a proficient in drawing, both of figures and landscapes; for before the wood can be cut, it must be drawn upon, and therefore to be able to draw the subject with taste, is a matter of first importance; while taste in cutting, so as to bring out the true meaning of the lines and touches, is at the same time indispensable. With a preliminary knowledge of drawing, we should have no fears of soon seeing ladies attain an eminence in this lucrative and respectable profession; with ordinary diligence, they could at least very speedily rival the bulk of the persons who now profess to furnish wood-engravings for books. The publishers of the present sheet, who expend several hundreds of pounds per annum on wood-engravings for their works, have all along experienced the greatest difficulty in procuring the species of cuts which they require. A want of a thorough knowledge of drawing they feel to be a chief source of the difficulty.

cumbered with them. Some were gathered in crowds under rocks, as if to obtain shelter from the biting wind; we could conceive what it must have been in January, for such was the intensity of the cold, that we were almost all compelled to dismount and walk to keep life in our limbs, and the water froze in icicles on the legs of the horses. Í counted in one place twelve skeletons huddled together in a little nook. Some, from their attitudes, appeared to be those of persons who had expired in great agony, probably from wounds. Most of them retained their hair, and the skin was dried on the bones, so that the hands and feet were little altered in form. Some were still covered with fragments of clothing, and here and there the uniform was discoverable. The horse and rider lay side by side, or men were seen clasped in each other's arms, as they had crowded together for warmth. One spot, where the pass was almost closed by rocks projecting from either side, was literally choked with the corpses of men, horses, and camels. It appeared as if a tremendous volley had been poured among them, or that the delay unavoidable in passing so narrow a gorge had caused them to drop from cold. A small ruined building, on the left of the road, was quite filled with dead

bodies.

Progress of Quarrels.-The first germs of the majority of the disunions of mankind are generally sown by miscon ception, wrong interpretations of conduct-hazarded, very possibly, at moments of ill humour-and the whisperings and suggestions of suspicion, aroused, perhaps, without any cause. The mutual coldness often turns, at first, upon paltry trifles; this feeling is then strengthened by absurd the evil. At last the false pride of neither party will give reports and statements; the effects of accident augment way; each must first see the other humbled; and thus, those perhaps who were completely adapted to mutually esteem and treasure each other, and possessed the means each other's company in aversion. And does a mere trifle of rendering to one another essential services, part from

for everything temporal and earthly is such-merit being the cause for rendering mutually our lives so bitter in every way? [Every reader can put this question to himself.] From "Hours of Meditation," by Zschokke, a German writer.

The two loftiest chimneys in the world are those belonging to Messrs Charles Tennant and Company of Glasgow, and Mr James Muspratt of Newton, Lancashire. That of Messrs Tennant and Company is 436 feet, and that of Mr Muspratt 406 feet in height. The latter, however, is wider, and contains three millions of bricks, being a third more than what is in the former. We believe chimneys equally high are raising in other parts of the country.

CHAMBERS'S EDINBURGH JOURNAL. THE present, as it will be perceived, differs in size and appearance from the previous numbers of the Journal. The cause for this alteration will be briefly explained. Throughout the twelve years' existence of the work, its large size was the subject of constant complaint, which increased latterly in force, as the inconvenience long resisted the demand for a change, from a dislike to give the of such bulky volumes in a library was more and more felt. least disturbance to the arrangements of a publication which had experienced so singular and unvarying a prosperity. At length, however, when on the point of completing the twelfth volume, we concluded that this disinclination on our part ought not any longer to stand in the way of the general wish of our readers. The pre

We

sent number, therefore, the first of the thirteenth volume, has been issued in a royal 8vo. size, and for convenience has been entitled the first of a New Series. By this alteration the Journal will in future range with CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE, CYCLOPEDIA OF ENGLISH LITERATURE, and PEOPLE'S EDI

TIONS.

As the object of this change is simply what has been stated-a mere matter of convenience, deemed likely to be agreeable to our

remark on the present occasion. It may only be proper to say, the work-we hardly feel called upon to make a single further that the Journal, in this its new size, contains precisely the same quantity of matter as formerly, that every other arrangement connected with the work remains unchanged, and that we contemplate carrying it on with, if possible, increased zeal and assiduity, as a miscellany of instructive and entertaining reading for all classes, and as an instrument for promoting the great cause of popular education.

Glory.-Mr Allen, in his work descriptive of the march through Scinde, presents the following scene, a fine comment on military glory :-" The entrance to the pass would have formed a fine subject for Salvator Rosa. The sun had not risen, and the gorge looked dark, gloomy, and threat-readers, and for that reason possibly favourable to the interests of ening. I was between the quarter-master-general's party and the column; consequently, there were but few people, and one or two officers scattered about. The craggy and fantastic rocks towered almost perpendicularly on both sides, many of them quite so, to an enormous height. The foreground was occupied by the skeletons of the ill-fated troops, with the larger forms of camels and horses. The gray light of morning scarcely allowed the eye to penetrate the pass, which appeared entirely shut in. Large carrioncrows and vultures, with flagging wings, were soaring nal has been prepared, and may be had along with any odd numheavily overhead. As we entered, the ghastly memorials of past calamity became more and more frequent. It is impossible to estimate their numbers, but the ground through the whole length of the pass, about five miles, was

A General Index for the preceding twelve volumes of the Jour

bers to complete sets.

W. AND R. CHAMBERS.

Published by W. and R. CHAMBERS, Edinburgh; and, with their permission, by W. S. ORR, Amen Corner, London.-Printed by BRADBURY and EVANS, Whitefriars, London.

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